Spiritual orgasm

If you had told me at sixteen what I am about to tell you now- I would not have believed you. I would not have believed that life could be as rich and satisfying as I now know it it be.

What is this wonderful thing that I have found? I have simply learned to walk around London with my eyes open.

Last week I did a great deal of it.

Tuesday. I was at a site in the City (an area within London that has its own little government rather like the Vatican). I had to walk to another area and could take my time about it. I walked towards the river between the Wool Tower and the mummy of Jimmy Garlik. I passed through a courtyard and found that the pavement was made of glass- beneath the glass there were bones. I looked around me for a clue.

London is set up as a series of puzzles. The answer is not supposed to be easy but may always be worked out by using the clues available. If I were to be you in London right now I could stand on any corner and find something to point out to you. It may be a statue, a carving or a symbol. These statues are always placed either very high or very low so that they are invisible unless one is looking for them.

I looked around for clues and ahead of me there was the head of a giant fish, with sharp teeth and spectacles. I approached the fish and saw that it contained water and some salamanders swimming back and forth.
Above the fish there was a clock- with the numbers reversed. In order to read the time it was necessary to place my head within the fish and read the clock as a reflection on the water. It was only then that I understood. Take the day, it said.

Passing on, I found a passageway that was lined with penny coins. It narrowed so that I had to climb out through a hole- finding myself on the banks of the Thames. Here there were more clocks- moon clocks, metric clocks, tide clocks.

I walked along the river for a while. London is a city of parks and festivals as well as puzzles. The perfume of the flowers drifted across the city making my head spin. I could hear a peacock and a man playing bagpipes.
Looking across the river I could see the places I had visited- and the places I had not. These last few years I have aimed at visiting at least three attractions every week. It struck me that I would never see this city. It is so fantastically diverse and vast that no single person could ever do so. I walked along the river for a while, passing yet another free festival.

I stood still and my head spun with the richness of it all. It was a peculiar sensation as if the human mind were unable to process all the different sounds and smells and possibilities that were being thrown at it. I felt that I were about to pass out with sheer happiness. My heart burst with love for the city- and a sadness that I would never know all that it wished to show me.

Saturday. An easy job- waiting for some contractors to come who had already canceled. There were two of us so we each spent some time walking around. The site was in Piccadilly and I was determined to have another of those heart bursting spiritual orgasms that only London can give.

There are a number of factors that must be present before this can happen.

1) There must be an element of the unexpected and of exploration.

2) It must be spontaneous. No show has ever done it for me.

3) It must teach me something about life.


I walked down to Trafalgar Square, there is generally some public event held there each weekend. There was- but I needed something spontaneous. Walking back to St James park I came across various cavalry regiments marching in perfect step behind a brass band. How do you make a horse march? Their hoofs were in perfect time.

But... this would not do. There was no discovery to be had here.

I walked into Jermyn street. This is the shirt makers street. I had never been there- perhaps there was discovery here. I went into a shoe shop selling Churches shoes (the sort James Bond wears.) I put on a pair that were as shiny as volcanic glass- and something very strange happened. I understood why women become fixated upon shoes. Very often women get a sexual pleasure from their own footwear- especially items such as thigh length boots. This is usually closed to men- although many of us enjoy looking at them on women.

The woman serving me was some sort of impoverished aristocrat- and knew me better than I knew myself. She remained on her knees all the while I was talking to her and I began to enjoy this a great deal. It somehow seemed entirely natural that a woman should enjoy kneeling at my feet provided my shoes were expensive.

Very odd. But very nice.

Next I bought a cashmere jumper. I was measured by another sexy deb who seemed to realise I enjoyed it. Is this what it feels like to be rich? Finally I visited a shop selling shaving brushes. These were of real badger hair and I stroked them foolishly as if they were pet badgers while an assistant suggested that a complete shaving set would make a good family heirloom.

I could see that most of them cost about a thousand pounds but at the time it seemed a good use of the money- if I were to with the lottery. Another woman told me she could produce an individual perfume for me. She reverently sniffed at my arm while looking up at me as they do while giving blow jobs in the movies. I told her that I could not afford it so my conscience was now clear. I now have a little sample- and yes. It does reflect me well.

The pleasure of Jermyn street is that it opens female sexuality to the few men who can afford it. By this I mean that a man may be served with the same groveling servility that woman commonly receive in their normal lives. Men defer to women, open doors for them and so on. This must feel rather like being a heterosexual man in Jeymyn Street.

Secondly, it taught me that it is possible for men to experience clothing in the same sexual way that women do. Owning a pair of expensive shoes would feel powerful and sexual at the same time- much as high heeled shoes do for women.

I had made my discovery for the day and I was satisfied.

Sunday. Back to Piccadilly. Determined to have the same experience of joyful discovery that I had the day before- but it had to be unplanned or it would not work.

I walked along Shaftsbury Avenue, wondering at the tourists, photographing everything. Seeing nothing. Soho lies on the left side and Seven Dials to the right. Some transvestite nuns were parading on one side, the Falum Gong (a Chinese religious group) on the right.

Nothing new.

Seven Dials was amazing- Buddhist monks, witches and food.

Nothing new.

Covent Garden. Opera, buskers and a the Jubilee Market. I was given a roasted beetle as a gift by a stranger.

I met another true believer, a Brazilian man who lived hand to mouth in the belief that London would feed him if only he loved it sufficiently.

On the way back I saw an art gallery/cafe for slaves and masters. I bought a coffee and sat there trying to look worldly wise. To my horror a bearded man walked across to my table. Help! He wants me to whip him!

Fortunately he gave me a leaflet and left. It was a poem he had written about this mother who had died of lung cancer. On the bottom there were contacts of people who help people to quit smoking.

This was my moment of discovery. We are all trying to deal with our pasts, and helping others to heal as well. Even damaged people are groping towards the light in their own ways.