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Wednesday, 6 November 2013

STUART WILDE REQUIEM

 
“See you again soon, yeah?”
“Yeah!”

Stu & Shé at the Milton Castle
They were the last words I said to him. Sure, it had been years, but we both meant to catch up soon. If it were important, we would drop each other a message. I have been going through some of our emails to each other today. In the beginning, his were brief and mine were long. However, as time passed, that reversed. Eventually the topic of one of our emails became one of his most controversial articles and then he included me as  “The Lady She-She-La-La” in one of his books. (God’s Gladiators) Sometimes it was hard to get a message through to him. There were layers of protection around him. He liked being one step removed and a little inaccessible. Yet, if it was important it reached him no matter how convoluted the trail. Like when be had been flagged by immigration to be refused entry to Australia. It would have isolated him from his son and his home. (The castle at Milton.) How did I know this was about to happen to him? An ex of mine had grown jealous of my friendship with Stuie. Tony boasted that he had flagged Stuart and because I gave him the heads up, Stuie was able to get it sorted before he returned to Aus. Stuie sent me a simple reply to that piece of information – “Thank you so much – I know you love me. You’re such a decent bird.”

Jealousy is such a waste. Stuie was jealous of me when we went out. "Stop flirting with everyone." he would complain. In my mind I wasn't. I was just being friendly and approachable. As usual, he was right. Many have misinterpreted my inverted snobbery as a sign of sexual attraction. Contrary to what I believed about myself, Stuie thought that I was arrogant. He called me his fallen angel Shé Shé. I knew my training put me streets ahead of many of the so-called spiritual crowd that hung around him. Stuart loved to pick my brains about my techniques and Asian training and then would give me a hard time for sharing too easily. He was a contradiction and a challenge. He always made me feel I had to prove myself. It was a competition that he always won. In front of his class, he derided me once. "She' you can do all this stuff and you have all of these qualifications, do you know how boring that is and how repelled people can be by that?” A slap in the ego but it made me strive harder.

He was good at keeping me knocked down a peg or two. I might have skills but he was Stuart Wilde and I should never forget it. Nevertheless, every now and then it reversed on him. 
"I bet you haven’t even heard of TOEism?” he asked me once. I paused for a moment and stared at him in disbelief. Surly he was joking. The existence of Taoism is common spiritual knowledge. “Thought so. My A-list wizards have read all about it and you have never heard of it.”
“Er…Well, actually, I am Taoist trained but I have never heard it pronounced that way before. My Tibetan teacher called the study of the way: “Dow.” Well, at least that’s how it sounded when she said it. However, if your asking me about any spiritual practice involving toes then, nope! Never heard of it!”

Another time, “Shé I have traveled all around the would hundreds of times... Where have you been and where have you taught?”
“The US, China, New Zealand and South Africa." He was surprised. He had not been to China but he was born in South Africa.

We had many little things like that in common. I didn't speak of such things till he challenged me. I think he like that I didn’t back down to him and was always willing to give his challenges a go. Yet, no matter how well I did with his challenges, he always had a reply that put me in my place.
“Shé you can't speak with authority on business until you have been successful in business for yourself." He was surprised that I had been a QLD businesswoman of he year. His reply to my parrying of his challenge made me feel as inferior as discussing business with my successful father... "Well..." he replied... " When. Your second business makes its second million you will have credibility with my friends.” Oh, Stuart had a way of making people feel special but with replies like this it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t have any really close friends. He always kept everyone at arms length. Very few of his lovers ever really knew him. By his friends, he meant his “rich uncles,” the group that would fly him around the world to be the entertaining celebrity author at their soirees. He knew I had wealthy lovers who did the same for me because my beauty and enthusiasm made them feel special.

Stuie had a great sense of humor when it suited him. When it didn't, the do not disturb sign went up. “Already disturbed so don't disturb any more.” I would joke with him. I don’t know how we remained friends despite ourselves. Sure there were moments when he needed me. “Stay with me before I go on stage. I need you to calm me down. Give me healing. Kiss me and push some healing energy into me.” I knew I was useful to him and that in an obscure way he needed me, yet, he never let me need him in return. It was his way of protecting himself from abandonment and keeping me strong. If I played needy or wanted affection in public his reply was always the same: “Stop it Shé. You are stronger than that. People are going to need you and you will need to be able to stand alone. I won’t bend over backwards for you and you will never bend over backwards for anyone. They should fall at your feet, but I won’t.”
The first time he said that to me I countered: “Can't two warriors give each other comfort between battles?”
“We will, but tomorrow you will be alone again and you must learn to stand alone.”
Therefore, the next day I balanced on the battlements of the Milton castle 50 feet above the ground and walked alone right around them all. As I past his bedroom window where he was sleeping with another woman.... I laughed as I past – did a bend back and stood up again. He saw me and froze, thinking it was a suicide attempt. The look on his face made me laugh so hard that I nearly did fall. I wasn't broken hearted. It was what I expected. Yes, I was walking all alone, but, like Scaramouch, I got the cosmic comedy of life.

Stuie was funny but I laughed at life more than he. He only saw me really up set with him once. He didn’t like it and hid. He sent two emissaries to my beautiful hidden valley retreat to see if I was still upset with him. When I admitted I was I didn't hear from him in a long time. Then out of the blue be left beautiful voice messages on my answering service inviting me to dinner in Byron. He was very charming. There was a defenseless side to him like an abandoned little boy. We shared that early experience of childhood abandonment as well. We were two small children sheltering in each other’s arms when we were together. We were friends first who shared the experiences of our wounds left by other lovers, our fantasies, and what we aspired to in partners. We did not want to hurt each other. We knew we would if we developed expectations about each other. We even found ways of getting others to fulfill each other’s fantasies and sexual proclivities. I introduced him to several unique characters. Another game and another challenge.

When he needed me, he would contact me, sometimes through others and sometimes incognito, revealing his true identity at the last moment. He loved games. He hated anything that was boring or ordinary. One of our first dates was to a shooting range. He asked me about Ayahuasca and I put him in contact with Darpan. About security, I put him in contact with my SAS friends; he wanted meditation techniques, magick spells, and safety tips. Nevertheless, he respected me enough to not publish my work. He warned me which publishers to avoid and where to advertise. Like a sarcastic older brother, he was protective of me, guided me and he chided me into keeping my feet on the ground.

He was an excellent writer. Intimidatingly so. He had a way of making the reader feel like they knew him. His books feel as though they are written personally to the reader from an old friend. He liked to ask others what they thought of his work. That was all fine unless they didn't like it. Then he could get angry or aggressive and very insecure. He liked having people around him but resented them in his personal space. He did not accept differing opinions easily. We disagreed occasionally. Mostly on the use of psychoactives in spiritual development. He was pro, I anti. I felt they made students lazy as all states of altered consciousness can be achieved through disciplined meditating techniques. Stuart just liked them and he felt them to be the fast track. He ignored the dangers. They aged him prematurely. He remains the only man to ever pressure me into taking a substance against my will. His doctor/girlfriend “supplied medical grade stuff.” He felt that ecstasy would reopen my heart chakra after my years of abuse. He was right it did. It also opened me to depression, till I found the antidote. I used hypericum to restore my balance as Stuie used me to restore his.

I was reminiscing about him with the Nacson bothers on the weekend at the Mind Body and Spirit festival in Sydney. I had first met them at Stuart’s home in Milton. I had heard about Stuart’s death in late May, but I would not have put it past him to stage his own death in order to make a grand entrance at his own wake. Robert had confirmed it on the weekend. It was real. He was really gone. I had sent Stuie several messages whilst I was in Singapore in April. I felt he needed me and I had tried to urgently contact him on the first of May but there had not been a reply. I was busy so I didn’t pursue it. When I heard the news, I understood why. I felt I had let him down. I left it too long to see him again. I knew his heart was bad. It was becoming more difficult for him to achieve an erection. He was aging rapidly, as vegans often do. There was so much about the post 2012 world that he did not want to face. I knew that was when my main work would start and his finish..... But.....

How do you finish unfinished conversations and ideas not yet exchanged? He has left me hanging again. This restless regret will prod me into finishing what we started via playful internet exchanges twelve years earlier. It was all about things we planned in Italy in 1475. He teased me about how excited I was to discover portraits that looked like me by DaVinci and Botticelli. Then our past-life selves remembered the meetings in the philosophical salons of Milan. Salons hosted by my former self, Cecilia Gallerani, where he, a young bright eye member of the Borgia family, first heard dangerous ideas. Our souls were young then, ready to change the world and we did, and have done many times since. Now his soul was tired so it passed on.

The last time I saw him, he lay in my arms in a motel room in Byron Bay. We started to joke and felt really close again. Looking forward in time, as I often do, I saw the potential pain in our relationship if we stayed together. “How do you want this to end?” I half joked.
Coming from the left, he said, "In the arms of a gorgeous strawberry-blonde looking out to the sea from high on an Irish mountain top." (He got this wish in the end but I am glad it wasn’t me)
"Oh." I sad sadly. He had understood my intent with my question and had deliberately misanswered me. Therefore, I got up to put my clothes on.
"Where are you going? Come back to bed. Why are you always running away from me?"
I didn't get back into bed. I leaned over and planted one more passionate kiss on his beautiful full lips. "Home." I replied. "Its an hour’s drive." I went to leave but he had preempted me and had dead bolted the door. He had the key in his pants pocket. His pants lay scrumpled on the floor. We both sprang on them at the same time. We wrestled around this way and that, laughing and tugging the legs of his designer jeans in opposite directions. He was very strong but I was very quick. I got the keys and opened the door. It was so late it was early. We had lost track of time again. I turned back to him threw the keys to him and looked deep into his blue eyes. His expression held me in a tighter grip than our play fighting. There was his hurt little boy wanting me to stay and hold him until late in the morning. I smiled my love and care to him and tried to hide my fear that was causing me to flee again.
His reply, a simple slow blink and nod. I stepped through the door. “See you again soon, yeah?” he asked after me.
"Yeah!" I exclaimed as I firmly closed the door and stepped out into the cold, dark night all alone.

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