Together we’re dancing the future,
with pragmatic magic we glide.
The song of the Goddess within us—
no longer can She be denied.
I trust the voice inside of me.
I trust the voice inside of you.
Original text of “For When I Pass On.”
For When I Pass On
(1985)
Don’t grieve over me.
I did what I wanted to do,
followed my excitement.
my thoughts and desires
lived as I wanted to
rejected traditions and rules
neither a meteor nor a dud.
I let my loves flow
my furies explode
smashing icons and celebrity
appearing and withdrawing
as the mood suited me.
Don’t grieve over me.
I have never felt regret
and even in times of despair
a candle of hope remained lit.
I relished intensity and integrity
truth with gentle diplomacy
compassion, with demands
that potential be fulfilled.
I thought rude questions
smashed superficiality and pretense
laughed at established lies
decided that most people
were afraid to live.
Don’t grieve over me.
I was blessed with a full measure
of the juices of conscious life.
Merlin in her room, circa 1995, when she finished her novel.
One Summer on the Way to Utopia,
or Dreams of Getting There
Excerpts from an Unpublished Novel
by Merlin Stone
with commentary by David B. Axelrod
Dr. Addie Sedgewick Weaver, clinical psychologist, expert and lecturer on cults and cult behavior, and social commentator, tells us:
I’ve always been extremely curious about people who seem to be on the path of some compelling quest, always wanting to know what it is that pushes, or perhaps magically pulls, each quester to take just one more step again and again and again. Whether that quest is to arrive at the point of experiencing the spiritual enlightenment of nirvana, or to discover who really wrote the plays attributed to William Shakespeare, or to accumulate millions of dollars, or achieve enormous fame, or develop a cure for a particular disease … the expression of a sometimes obsessive and frequently intense dedication of a person toward a very specific goal has always intrigued me.
Addie is the protagonist in a novel written by Merlin Stone. By all accounts, Merlin worked on the book off and on for two years, completing a second draft by 1995.
Merlin created Addie, a clinical psychologist, professor, and expert on cults and cult behavior, to give a first-person account of social and women’s issues. Addie recounts a number of sessions with her patients. In addition, she watches her husband’s quest for an “Elixir of Immortality,” and advises a friend who is drawn into an ongoing investigation of cult activities.
We are witness to clinical sessions Addie conducts. We join her in the course she teaches on cult behavior. We witness Addie’s own personal relationships. Each situation provides a context for us to consider the ways people seek happiness. Addie’s commentary continues:
Although the actual journey of any quest—the experiences along the way, the encounters with various people, the lessons, the tests, the adventures, the epiphanies—is often said to be the true purpose of the quest, still I find myself more curious about the intensity of the drive, the fierce motivation that forces the quester along like a small piece of paper in the wind of a hurricane or a lover in search of the lost beloved.
What initially aroused my interest in quest people were the intense rushes of excitement I could see they were experiencing, wildly surging tides of adrenalin, endorphins, long highs of an almost ecstatic anticipation that seemed to accompany every probability, even any possibility, along the way. I am still quite puzzled about the nature of that quest energy, that heightened sense of existence, which primarily reveals itself in the single-minded determination of each quester to explore along some very specific pathway, each wave of excitation manifesting itself in an insatiable thirsting for just one more bit of information, just one more obstacle to overcome, just one more acquisition, just one more mountain to climb, just one more idea to try, with the continually repeated expectation of reaching an ultimate sense of satisfaction, an ever-present yearning to achieve the envisioned promise of the finish line. (pp. 3–4)
The observations continue:
How do people get started on these quests? What is it that seeps into their innermost drives, pulling them, sustaining them, on these sometimes dangerous and certainly long and arduous journeys?
At times I’ve surmised that the essential nature of the goal of each quest might be innate, genetic, that early clues could have been observed in the very young child. My most serious and thoughtful guess would be that it was probably the result of a random group of events and experiences, people being in certain places at certain times, especially in their earlier years, that sent them off on their individual quests. In my more imaginative moments, I’ve even wondered if each compelling quest is a single component of some overall cosmic plan, a predestined role that is being communicated to, and carried out by, each of the questing individuals without them even being aware of what is driving them along on their paths. (pp. 7–8)
It is, of course, a fallacy to assume that the words of any fictional character automatically speak for the author herself. But there seems to be little doubt that Merlin, who pursued her own vigorous quest and research on goddesses and goddess worship, is speaking at least somewhat through Addie when she observes:
Although I have never thought of myself as a quest person, perhaps every life may be regarded as a quest, a seeking to decipher what life is about, why we are here, what we are supposed to be doing while we are here. Perhaps my own compelling quest is to comprehend what it is that drives the most noticeably questing people ever onward, to gain more insight into the intrinsic nature of human quest itself and, in so doing, to better understand why some lives seem more exciting, more satisfying, than others. (p. 10)
Of Addie’s patients, the one person most useful in terms of sketching out women’s issues and views is the character Andrea. In session after session, Andrea questions her own identity, delves into the nature of man-woman and woman-woman relationships, and recounts her discovery of the women’s movement and her growing female consciousness.
Addie begins a session by noting that:
We do live in a society where women are much more likely to be treated as children, even as incompetents. Therefore, it is more often the woman who is likely not to trust her own perceptions and judgment. The question is whether or not this can be done to a woman who was reflected positively during her childhood, encouraged to trust her own perceptions and judgment. … Sometimes it’s difficult to believe that … a man who says he loves a woman would do that to her. I guess that’s the first perception we begin to doubt, that it’s happening at all. (p. 41)
Later, commenting more generally, Addie herself observes:
Too many humans become callous and arrogant, belittling others, striving for status and power, caring for no one but themselves, in their quests to feed and comfort their own egos. Who, other than beings with superhuman powers, could rescue us as a species? Perhaps that is why Superman and Wonder Woman are so beloved by children, even by adults who read about them as children. Perhaps it is why so many people have recently become interested in the idea of angels. … It seems that so many people are desperately hoping, searching, for a savior, a messiah, a Melchizadek, a Superman, someone to save them, someone capable of making this a better
world or leading them to one that was already perfect—a utopia, an Eden, a paradise. Women, especially before this last wave of women’s liberation, often waited to be rescued and carried off by some knight in shining armor riding up on his white horse—a Prince Charming.
How anxious some people seem to be to find and accept a leader for their quest, to believe in the sweet promises of evangelists or those of smooth-tongued politicians, each seductively describing how they will create a better world if you will just follow them. The Pied Piper arrives in many forms, a shape-shifter if there ever was one. (pp. 74–75)
Again, in a clinical session with Andrea, Addie lets us glimpse some interesting thoughts on the women’s movement. Here is an account in which Andrea describes her attendance at a women’s gathering. Andrea says:
As it turned out, only nine women showed up in all, mostly women who lived in that area. Mindy said they usually had more. For a long time we sat outside, cold as it was. We sat around a ring of huge rock slabs, with this tremendous fire blazing in the middle, crackling and sparking into the night sky while two women were drumming, and all the women were singing these songs I’d never heard before. I hadn’t worn warm enough clothing, and when Lucy saw that I was shivering, she brought a blanket out from the house and wrapped it around my shoulders without my even asking. Sitting there in front of this great fire, with that striped woolen blanket draped around my shoulders, I felt as if I were in a dream, almost as if we were the women of some primitive tribe, or people in another time. I’d never had an experience like that before. There was such a sense of closeness between the women, and that included me. All the “I must impress you” competition at the parties I have to attend here in the city seemed a world away.
There was one thing that did bother me a bit. … It was kind of silly. Some of the songs they were singing were about the moon as a goddess. They used Greek and Roman goddess names—Artemis and Diana. As I’ve told you, my family was never very religious, Episcopalian, but we hardly ever went to church. I don’t know if my discomfort was from thinking it was too pagan, or too religious. I can’t imagine that those women were raised worshiping Diana any more than I was, yet they all seemed quite comfortable with the songs, even Mindy. In any case, when it was over, Lucy invited us to stay at the house, so we didn’t get back to the city until this morning. I didn’t want to return. It was so idyllic. …
I remembered how much I missed being near trees and the smell of the earth and the air. Did I mention that they did this strange thing for me? They asked if I wanted them to do a healing for my divorce. They all seemed to know about it from Mindy, who, to put it politely, doesn’t believe in secrets. I suppose I was so totally absorbed in the whole experience by that time, I must have agreed. They formed a circle on the grass not far from the fire, holding hands the way children do in their games. Then they stood me in the center of the circle and kept dancing around me, singing, moving in closer and closer until I felt incredibly safe and cared for, as though I had eight loving mothers.
When we went into the house after the ritual and I was lying in bed looking up at the full moon through the window, I realized that I need more friends, friends like Mindy, friends like these women who made me feel so connected, not only to them but to myself. (pp. 6–7)
Here are Addie’s comments after the session with her patient Andrea:
It sounded rather odd. I had read an article about something similar, women forming groups like that. It seemed to be connected to the women’s rights movement, of which I heartily approve. Women’s rights were something my mother had often spoken of as extremely important. She had participated in some of the marches to get the vote for women.
It’s still hard for me to believe that women gained the right to vote only about twelve years before I was born. I was in my late thirties when the women’s rights movement began to spread again, and I often wished that my mother had been alive to see it. I’ve attended some feminist conferences and panel discussions, read quite a few articles about it, but I wasn’t sure what I thought about a group of contemporary women dancing around under the full moon. …
I had a vague notion, almost a visual image, of Andrea standing at a crossroads, standing there trying to decide which path to take, possibly changing the course of her direction. Was this simply another road on her quest, or was she completely changing the destination—the goal—of that quest? (pp. 134–137)
If creating Addie serves in any way as an alter ego for Merlin herself, it is touching to listen in on Addie’s private musings. Addie asks:
“Just who am I?” I found myself wondering, setting down my teacup and walking over to the mirror … to look at myself. I examined the small lines that formed around my eyes and mouth, the gray in my hair, and then noticed that the black scarf I had worn in the kitchen was still hanging around my neck where I had pushed it down to eat my snack. A whimsical impulse made me pull it up over my nose again just to see how it looked.
Again, I saw myself as the Lone Ranger. Did I need to be like the Lone Ranger, constantly trying to help people in distress? Is that what made me feel worthwhile? A funny image of myself dashing about on a white horse drifted through my mind, along with the old cry of Hi-Yo, Silver! Away! Rescuers. Saviors. White horses. … Did I need a white horse like Silver to ride on? Perhaps I did, as long as Greg [her husband] needed his alchemical gold.
I heard Greg moving around in the kitchen, probably turning off the heat under his bowl of green mush, his effort to concoct an Elixir of Immortality that he thought might keep him alive and young forever. …
No, I wasn’t the Lone Ranger. I was more like the writer of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, listening to the story of each pilgrim as they made their way on their quests, their pilgrimages. But Chaucer’s pilgrims were all traveling to the same place. What if each one had been going in a different direction, as mine seemed to be? (pp. 146–147)
Certainly, if Addie speaks for Merlin at all, the way she characterizes her relationship with her husband, Greg, also would speak well for Merlin’s own relationship with her life partner of thirty-four years, Len Schneir:
I should explain that much of my ability to keep up with all these people and activities has been facilitated by the wonderful relationship I have with my husband. After almost thirty years of marriage, and having heard about hundreds of marital problems in couples counseling, I realize how lucky I’ve been. I believe that each of us continually encouraging the other to fully develop our innate potential, to feel free to explore whatever is of interest to us as individuals, has been of enormous benefit to the solidity of our relationship. (p. 23)
Indeed, in Merlin’s novel, Addie tells us that her patient Andrea “had come into therapy to help her get in touch with whatever made her choose a man like Roger [the husband she just divorced] so she could be more careful in the future.” (p. 161)
The exchange between patient and therapist is revealing. The exchange is worth reading in its entirety. In the dialogue with Addie, Andrea says:
“I don’t think I’m a lesbian. … I just think that men are damaged goods. They simply don’t understand what an egalitarian relationship is. They’re always out to win, and we become the losers because we don’t even realize a game is being played.”
“You’ve always described your own father as very gentle and kind.”
“That’s a different generation. Besides, my mother always placated him with the patience of Griselda. She was right there behind him all the time doing just about anything he requested. I don’t intend to do that for any man.”
“I’m not suggesting that you sacrifice yourself, but there are relationships where men and women can give equally to each other.”
Andrea pursed her lips, shaking her head from side to side. “I think it always works to the man’s advantage. I’ve been reading this book about how men are always thinking they’re in some sort of contest, while women
are more concerned about relationships, trying to make them work better. The author presents it as if we’re simply different, men and women, but how can you relate to someone who’s always thinking about everything, even making love, as a competition? You can see they’re always jockeying for position in sports, in business, in politics, in everything. Sexually, they’re competing with any man you’ve ever been with and anyone you might meet.”
She paused for breath, but not for long, taking up her tirade with renewed vigor. “And look at who commits most of the violence—boys and men, right? Mindy calls it testosterone poisoning. They say they feel protective toward women, but then there’s all that terrible wife battering and rape, even sexually abusing young girls. It’s all part of their contest, their need to control, to have power over everyone and everything around them. They’re always competing about something, whether it’s over material things or even ideas.
“It’s why we have wars—their ultimate contest! And all that rubbish about women wanting to control men! You know what that’s about, don’t you? They want to control everything you do and exactly the way you do it. That’s winning the contest. If you ask for one little thing, suddenly they feel pressured, nagged, controlled, just by your asking. So they accuse you of being a controlling woman, which is just another way of controlling you, of winning the contest.”
I’d never seen Andrea so full of rage, even more furious than when she had initially been talking about Roger [her ex-husband]. This was a scathing indictment of all men. These were issues of morality in conflict with psychological notions about emotional health and mental stability. I’m beginning to see politics as yet another aspect of why people behave as they do. I don’t mean politics in the sense of who’s running in an election, but politics in its most basic presence in our lives—who’s in charge, who makes the decisions, and who has the power.
My studies in psychology never dealt with questions of how groups of people actually do have less power in a given situation, or have to defend themselves against negative stereotypes, whether it’s because of race, gender, economics, class, ethnicity, age, disabilities, or whatever affects the people of that group as individuals. I’m beginning to see now that the all too numerous structures of hierarchy, those that leave many people with very little or completely without status or power in various ways, do exist. To pretend they do not, or to pretend they have no impact on an individual’s personal life, is as much a pattern of disassociation and denial as when these patterns occur in young children who have been abused.
Merlin Stone Remembered Page 18