The Problem of Lust and Celibacy

 

“Let us love the holiness of our souls and body because apart from this, no one will see the Lord.”

- St. Malenia the Younger

There is only one direction to the universe: DOWN. Any "progress" made is only in the direction of death.

Progress is always toward disintegration. 

That's it. 

Sorry.

And that's not just the physical universe. The same is true about your mind. Since it's linked to your body that disintegrates as well. You will be able to notice less, will unconsciously block out what you do notice, and will be very happy with how little gets through. It's called getting old. 

So younger folk notice more but are fucking idiots, while older folks don't notice shit but are content with their ignorance. Their knowledge can be useful, but only in their area of experience, and even then.

Welcome to the  real world, folks. It's a fucking awful place.

So you're in a constant state of disintegration, interior and exterior. I just summed up the human condition as stated by all major world religions and philosophies, to the best of my knowledge. 

If you know of another philosophy that isn't liberalism or progressivism (which are mass delusion, as they deny this truth) let me know.

But wait! You can use this system to get some relief. Dopamine. God, what a wonderful drug. With dopamine you can at least disintegrate in style. Pick your way of forgetting and ignoring the world. Hedonism is certainly not going to let you go out with a whimper.

But no matter which drug you pick, very little beats beats sex. And it's not hard to see why!  You get bonding hormones, and let's be honest, there's nothing that quite beats an orgasm, if you're not willing to pump synthetic substances into your body. I'm not, so yeah, I know what I would like for a drug.

But the thing is that orgasms are better when they're shared. Well, at least I think they are. Hence birth control (why make more people to share in this sick cycle? Long as I get my grave and suicide is unacceptable), so that way you can get your regular kicks and ignore the big black universe.

But dopamine isn't the real thing, folks. It's not real intimacy. It's not real happiness. It's not actually spiritually fulfilling. What dopamine is is the meanest mob debt collector you'll ever met: his injuries don't show. And they don't heal like you'd expect. And his price? More dopamine. 

And more. 

And more. 

Most folks figure out how to do a steady drip-drip-dripping, just enough to get by.  The debt collector comes by regularly and you smile at your persecutor in a manner reminiscent of a heroin addict shooting up. You may not be friends tomorrow, but by God you're friends today! Just make sure you're ready to bark like a dog the next day. Or screw a dog. Whichever gets you off, so long as you do it, right? The person in your bed or on your screen isn't really there for their own sake, not at that point. What's in their pelvic area helps you avoid the fact that you're disintegrating.

What does any of that have to do with love? As in, doing good to another for the other's sake, not your own?

What's the difference between shooting up and having casual sex?

Nothing. 

And I mean that in the hardest, most absolute sense I can. What you've done to that other person is identical to what someone does with a needle.

But not everyone who drinks is a drunk. And not everyone who uses a recreational substance is a drug addict. 

Ha! You thought I was gonna get all babushka on you, didn't you?

Silly reader, I'm a Christian, not a nihilist! There's actual hope! Christ conquered sin and death. He killed death itself, changing it. What was a spiral into oblivion and meaninglessness is now the gateway to life eternal.

And I'll take a meaningful life over a happy one any day.

Yes, I'm trying to mean that. God help me, I am.

It's not good for man to be alone. The union of man and woman is regarded as the height of wisdom, aka The Song of Songs. To see other and be caught up in their inner subjectivity, one which you cannot experience without them in any way shape or form, is an image of union with God Himself. And that does mean entering into their own personal disintegration, and riding it out till the end with them. You’re not just expected to find hope in your own existential rot but in someone else’s too! Is it any wonder that married people are crowned like the martyrs in the Eastern Churches?

Now, admittedly, there are those who can't enter a bar. And shouldn't. It's just too much. I get that. I'm not like that, but I've known enough drunks who won't go near alcohol that I believe those who have to hate sex. They're great people, provided they don't get a drink.

They're known as monks and nuns.

And this is where it gets tricky.

Because love making, actual, real, beautiful love making is not like having a bottle of stout or cider or a heroin needle at all. My wife fills me with joy. Actual, honest to goodness JOY, when her clothes are off. Dear God it's completely different than I ever expected. Sure, I suppose there's a buzz to it and all that, but what I'm seeing is not her body. I see the achingly lovely soul expressed in it. In her eyes I see the gaze that is almost too much. Another world invades mine. The fact that there's all this flesh that conceals as much as it reveals is unfortunate. The world is fallen, we live in rot. I’m married to my wife. Her rot is mine. As she disintegrates so do I. I would have it no other way.

But that's not a needle. That's not dopamine. Dopamine removes everything but the high; the world is killed in a mood only minorly reminiscent of suicide. With my wife the world expands, to include her. Another universe joins to mine. It's not that I want her. Or need her.

She exists. And that's enough.

My wife is an Alter Christi (another Christ) to me in all things. The experience of love making is part of a larger connection with one whose viewpoint can never be mine, all the way down to chromosomes. And yet, even though it's not a viewpoint I can have, that is ultimately not the point. I will never understand God either. 

But I do need to love them both. Other and Other.

So do Christians have issue with sex? And marriage? And being happy? Oh, definitely! It's hard to know the difference between a kick of dopamine and joy on a good day, nevermind a bad one. And we've made these safe zones called monasteries, and idolize those who have the courage to push away the needle and bottle.

But dopamine is not the Other, no matter whether it's a wet or dry drunk that says it.

They're saying the same thing in the end, are they not? That the elevator ride into death and disintegration is not worth it. The fact is that those who think sex is a native right (it’s not) and those who have no sex at all are remarking on the same reality: the body enslaves and kills what is truly important. Body and soul are separated and fallen. There is death at the end.