The Wild Party
There was this wild party
In Boston, they said
Made the papers a few years back
Mainly because some politician’s daughter was supposed to have attended
Not that this kid’s use of her leisure time was going to have any effect on public policy
Or the precarious moral state of the nation
But because there was sex involved
At least by implication
And you know how that sells ad space
Anyway, the thing was this
The party was held in a three story house
On the first floor everybody had their clothes on like at any other party
On the second, everybody stripped to their underwear
Bras and panties for the ladies, briefs or boxers for the guys
And on the third floor
You couldn’t get past the gatekeeper
Unless you dropped it all at the door and partied naked
The idea being pushed by the press
None of whom claimed to have actually been there
Was that the higher you went the wilder it got
More booze, more loud music
More unbridled carryings on
Not so
The press as usual missed the big picture
This wasn’t that kind of party, not at all
The first floor was pretty much like any other party
Drinks, music, idle conversation, cruising for mating opportunities
The usual stuff
But on the second floor, the underwear floor, things started to get serious
The only drinks were purified spring water and unsweetened tea
And the music was quiet, Bach mainly
With a special set of double doors to keep out the noise from below
And there were piles of books
All kinds of books
Dickens, Dickinson
Neichze, Neruda
Freud and Friedan
Basho’s haikus in the original Japanese
With multiple English translations on the facing page
Those kinds of books
The people in their underwear would each pick one
And go off to a quiet corner to read it
And in the middle of the room
There were circles of five chairs each
No more, no less
Where, if they chose to
The readers could gather to quietly discuss the ideas the books they were reading
Had inspired
They didn’t have to agree with each other
They were in fact encouraged to have heated arguments
As long as they did it quietly
Which the underwear thing seemed to enhance
Underwear being such a great equalizer
And on the third floor, the top floor
There was no food or drink
And absolute silence
Three doors
You left your underwear between the first and the second
Paused for a moment between the second and the third
And entered though the last only when it was opened to you
Each person was assigned a partner
Whoever had entered the room immediately before
Male, female, made no difference
The two sat on the floor facing each other
Legs crossed
Knees touching
Nothing else, just the knees
And looked into each other’s eyes
For the first few moments they worked at synchronizing their breathing to a set rhythm
Blinking together on the fourth breath
So as not to break their concentration
After a few minutes the synchronization became automatic
And they could begin
Relaxing into each other
Accepting from each other
Or from whatever part of themselves the loss of self into the other managed to set free
Whatever thoughts, feelings or imaginings came
If only a sense of comfortable emptiness
In the case of accidental sexual arousal
For either male or female
No notice or action was taken
And the desire was allowed to ride itself out till it slowly subsided
And in its turn fuel the inner fires
Which continued uninterrupted
And became stronger as the session went on
Both partners would mutually sense when it was time to withdraw
Often with reluctance
Most reported a slight feeling of chill
Each left alone
And on the fourth level
Which was not a floor but a space of energy
That hovered above the building
Outside the visual range of the press
Was a vortex
Where those who managed to achieve a point of perfect emptiness
During their time of union on third floor
Would enjoy
For a space of time not measureable by human means
A sense of total loss into the whole of creation
And a simultaneous return to themselves with the whole of creation
At last unseparated from the self
It’s smallest and most stubborn particle
And that’s the kind of party it really was
The politician’s daughter, they said
Went as far as the second floor
She could probably have brought back some good ideas that might have proved useful
To her father and the general public
But nobody was interested in that
So they didn’t ask her
Preferring to imagine her drunk and sloppy
And cruising for mating opportunities in her underwear
But it was a wild party
The wildest ever, so far
They’ve been cropping up a lot of places lately
You never know when you’re going to stumble into one
The politician’s daughter kept her mouth shut
She was smart enough to know that some things are worth protecting from the press
And her father’s career recovered
In fact it may have made him seem more human to have out of control children
Just like God
Who threw the party.
There was this wild party
In Boston, they said
Made the papers a few years back
Mainly because some politician’s daughter was supposed to have attended
Not that this kid’s use of her leisure time was going to have any effect on public policy
Or the precarious moral state of the nation
But because there was sex involved
At least by implication
And you know how that sells ad space
Anyway, the thing was this
The party was held in a three story house
On the first floor everybody had their clothes on like at any other party
On the second, everybody stripped to their underwear
Bras and panties for the ladies, briefs or boxers for the guys
And on the third floor
You couldn’t get past the gatekeeper
Unless you dropped it all at the door and partied naked
The idea being pushed by the press
None of whom claimed to have actually been there
Was that the higher you went the wilder it got
More booze, more loud music
More unbridled carryings on
Not so
The press as usual missed the big picture
This wasn’t that kind of party, not at all
The first floor was pretty much like any other party
Drinks, music, idle conversation, cruising for mating opportunities
The usual stuff
But on the second floor, the underwear floor, things started to get serious
The only drinks were purified spring water and unsweetened tea
And the music was quiet, Bach mainly
With a special set of double doors to keep out the noise from below
And there were piles of books
All kinds of books
Dickens, Dickinson
Neichze, Neruda
Freud and Friedan
Basho’s haikus in the original Japanese
With multiple English translations on the facing page
Those kinds of books
The people in their underwear would each pick one
And go off to a quiet corner to read it
And in the middle of the room
There were circles of five chairs each
No more, no less
Where, if they chose to
The readers could gather to quietly discuss the ideas the books they were reading
Had inspired
They didn’t have to agree with each other
They were in fact encouraged to have heated arguments
As long as they did it quietly
Which the underwear thing seemed to enhance
Underwear being such a great equalizer
And on the third floor, the top floor
There was no food or drink
And absolute silence
Three doors
You left your underwear between the first and the second
Paused for a moment between the second and the third
And entered though the last only when it was opened to you
Each person was assigned a partner
Whoever had entered the room immediately before
Male, female, made no difference
The two sat on the floor facing each other
Legs crossed
Knees touching
Nothing else, just the knees
And looked into each other’s eyes
For the first few moments they worked at synchronizing their breathing to a set rhythm
Blinking together on the fourth breath
So as not to break their concentration
After a few minutes the synchronization became automatic
And they could begin
Relaxing into each other
Accepting from each other
Or from whatever part of themselves the loss of self into the other managed to set free
Whatever thoughts, feelings or imaginings came
If only a sense of comfortable emptiness
In the case of accidental sexual arousal
For either male or female
No notice or action was taken
And the desire was allowed to ride itself out till it slowly subsided
And in its turn fuel the inner fires
Which continued uninterrupted
And became stronger as the session went on
Both partners would mutually sense when it was time to withdraw
Often with reluctance
Most reported a slight feeling of chill
Each left alone
And on the fourth level
Which was not a floor but a space of energy
That hovered above the building
Outside the visual range of the press
Was a vortex
Where those who managed to achieve a point of perfect emptiness
During their time of union on third floor
Would enjoy
For a space of time not measureable by human means
A sense of total loss into the whole of creation
And a simultaneous return to themselves with the whole of creation
At last unseparated from the self
It’s smallest and most stubborn particle
And that’s the kind of party it really was
The politician’s daughter, they said
Went as far as the second floor
She could probably have brought back some good ideas that might have proved useful
To her father and the general public
But nobody was interested in that
So they didn’t ask her
Preferring to imagine her drunk and sloppy
And cruising for mating opportunities in her underwear
But it was a wild party
The wildest ever, so far
They’ve been cropping up a lot of places lately
You never know when you’re going to stumble into one
The politician’s daughter kept her mouth shut
She was smart enough to know that some things are worth protecting from the press
And her father’s career recovered
In fact it may have made him seem more human to have out of control children
Just like God
Who threw the party.