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thecoleopterawithana · 5 years

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I Just Believe In Me

AKA John’s Disillusionment

This came about as a desire to unpack a vital component of John’s character that I feel goes detrimentally overlooked in the fandom, as it is a major motivator behind some of his most impactful decisions. It was something I had wanted to get into for a while, but @amoralto ‘s latest post about it finally pushed me into doing it. Please go check out and spread this amazing piece of information.

Note that this post will mainly deal with the breaking of faith. It barely scratches the surface of John as the Dreamer and all the unrealised expectations he weaved throughout his life. With the danger of repeating myself, I’ll probably leave that analysis to a companion post.

As usual, if you want to glimpse into their inner workings, look no further than their music. So, let’s start with the first clear example of John reacting to the hurt and betrayal of failed expectations:

Sexy Sadie, what have you done You made a fool of everyone You made a fool of everyone Sexy Sadie, ooh, what have you done

Sexy Sadie, you broke the rules You laid it down for all to see You laid it down for all to see Sexy Sadie, ooh, you broke the rules

One sunny day the world was waiting for a lover She came along and turned on everyone Sexy Sadie, the greatest of them all

Sexy Sadie, how did you know The world was waiting just for you The world was waiting just for you Sexy Sadie, ooh, how did you know

Sexy Sadie, you'll get yours yet However big you think you are However big you think you are Sexy Sadie, ooh, you'll get yours yet

We gave her everything we owned just to sit at her table Just a smile would lighten everything Sexy Sadie, she's the latest and the greatest of them all

She made a fool of everyone Sexy Sadie

However big you think you are Sexy Sadie

— ‘Sexy Sadie’ from The Beatles (1968). Recorded 19 July - 21 August 1968.

John wrote it as he was leaving India after the Maharishi allegedly made a sexual advance towards the actress Mia Farrow (the story, which came from “Magic” Alex, was doubted by George, Paul or Cynthia).

That was inspired by Maharishi. I wrote it when we had our bags packed and were leaving. It was the last piece I wrote before I left India. I just called him, 'Sexy Sadie,' instead of (sings) 'Maharishi what have you done, you made a fool...' I was just using the situation to write a song, rather calculatingly but also to express what I felt. I was leaving the Maharishi with a bad taste. You know, it seems that my partings are always not as nice as I'd like them to be.

— John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff (1980).

Donovan, a singer, songwriter and guitarist that was a friend of the Beatles and had accompanied them to Rishikesh, made the following very astute observation:

Psychotherapists call it projection. When difficulties are uncovered, and it’s hard to face them, you project them on to the teacher. In my view, John’s projection had nothing to do with Maharishi and everything to do with his private life. I think John later realised that.

— Donovan, interviewed by Mark Paytress for Mojo: The Butlins of bliss. (September, 2008)

But now, let’s see something made more obvious by the intensity of the moment. Let’s see how John faces the biggest disillusionment of his life; how he wakes up from the Dream.

God is a concept By which we measure Our pain I'll say it again God is a concept By which we measure Our pain

I don't believe in magic I don't believe in I-Ching I don't believe in Bible I don't believe in tarot I don't believe in Hitler I don't believe in Jesus I don't believe in Kennedy I don't believe in Buddha I don't believe in mantra I don't believe in Gita I don't believe in yoga I don't believe in kings I don't believe in Elvis I don't believe in Zimmerman I don't believe in Beatles I just believe in me Yoko and me And that's reality

The dream is over What can I say? The dream is over Yesterday I was the dream weaver But now I'm reborn I was the Walrus But now I'm John And so dear friends You just have to carry on The dream is over

— ‘God’ from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (1970). Recorded 26 September - 9 October 1970.

And channelling the anger and resentment born out of the pain and humiliation:

I told you before, stay away from my door Don't give me that brother, brother, brother, brother The freaks on the phone won't leave me alone So don't give me that brother, brother, brother, brother No

I, I found out I, I found out

Now that I showed you what I been through Don't take nobody's word what you can do There ain't no Jesus gonna come from the sky Now that I found out I know I can cry

I, I found out I, I found out

Some of you sitting there with yer cock in yer hand Don't get you nowhere don't make you a man I heard something 'bout my Ma and my Pa They didn't want me so they made me a star

I, I found out I, I found out

Old Hare Krishna got nothing on you Just keep you crazy with nothing to do Keep you occupied with pie in the sky There ain't no Guru who can see through yer eyes

I, I found out I, I found out

I've seen through junkies, I been through it all I've seen religion from Jesus to Paul Don't let them fool you with dope and cocaine No one can harm you, feel yer own pain

I, I found out I, I found this out I, I found out

Oh, oh, oh

— ‘I Found Out’ from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (1970). Recorded 27 September 1970.

We can see John lay out a lot of the sentiments expressed in ‘I Found Out’ in the interview that prompted all this analysis in the first place, from the identification of his original source of pain and fear (rejection by his parents and consequent abandonments respectively), to the urging to “feel your own pain” and how that only happens when you cast away the “God” in your life:

BLACKBURN: [Athur Janov’s] ideas seem to have something in common with [R. D.] Laing in that he doesn’t want to reconcile people to their misery, to adjust them to the world, but rather to make them face up to its causes?

JOHN: Well, his thing is to feel the pain that’s accumulated inside you ever since your childhood. I had to do it to really kill off all the religious myths. In the therapy you really feel every painful moment of your life – it’s excruciating, you are forced to realise that your pain, the kind that makes you wake up afraid with your heart pounding, is really yours and not the result of somebody up in the sky. It’s the result of your parents and your environment. As I realised this it all started to fall into place. This therapy forced me to have done with all the Godshit. All of us growing up have come to terms with too much pain. Although we repress it, it’s still there. The worst pain is that of not being wanted, of realising your parents do not need you in the way you need them. When I was a child I experienced moments of not wanting to see the ugliness, not wanting to see not being wanted. This lack of love went into my eyes and into my mind. Janov doesn’t just talk to you about this but makes you feel it – once you’ve allowed yourself to feel again, you do most of the work yourself. When you wake up and your heart is going like the clappers or your back feels strained, or you develop some other hang-up, you should let your mind go to the pain and the pain itself will regurgitate the memory which originally caused you to suppress it in your body. In this way the pain goes to the right channel instead of being repressed again, as it is if you take a pill or a bath, saying, ‘Well, I’ll get over it.’ Most people channel their pain into God or masturbation or some dream of making it. The therapy is like a very slow acid trip which happens naturally in your body. It is hard to talk about, you know, because you feel ‘I am pain’ and it sounds sort of arbitrary, but pain to me now has a different meaning because of having physically felt all these extraordinary repressions. It was like taking gloves off, and feeling your own skin for the first time. It’s a bit of a drag to say so, but I don’t think you can understand this unless you’ve gone through it – though I try to put some of it over on the album. But for me at any rate it was all part of dissolving the Godtrip or father-figure trip. Facing up to reality instead of always looking for some kind of heaven.

— John Lennon, interview w/ Robin Blackburn and Tariq Ali for Red Mole. March 8th-22nd, 1971.

I give my opinion on John’s method of expurging his pain on the reblog of the post itself, if you want to check it out.

Of course, Amoralto ends the post by tagging it with the most perfect, all encapsulating tag:

“Paul is a concept by which we measure our pain”

And if this is not the crux of the matter, I don’t know what is! So let’s unpack this!

First, we have to understand the original quote:

God is a concept by which we measure our pain

I think the Blackburn interview really helps us realise what John was getting at. I can’t say that I’m familiar with theology or the exploration of the purpose of faith, but I see John as addressing how people use God - and all the other things he claims he doesn't believe in anymore - as coping mechanisms for the pain in their lives. The greater the pain, the more you cling to these "distractions" from reality.

Though, this is not simply about distractions, like drugs, sex and success, as a means of escapism. When the despair is overwhelming, you want someone or something you can hand it all over to, and an all-powerful entity to whom you can just turn everything in and absolve yourself of the responsibility. And this Father figure will either make it better and make the pain go away, or it will tell you that there is a grander purpose to the pain, life works in mysterious ways, and it is as it is destined to be.

But the main point here is John's need to hand over responsibility. John hates the responsibility of having choices and thus having to deal with its consequences. He is a naturally passive person.

I think this goes back to his insecurity and lack of self-esteem. It's like he doesn't have the confidence in his own decisions to deal with their possible consequences. I mean, he REACTED rashly, completely at the mercy of his emotions. But then he did everything possible to absolve himself of responsibility in the aftermath. It's somebody else's fault that he's hurting and thus reacting like this, it's somebody else's fault that they don't see how much he's hurting and do nothing about it, it's somebody else's fault if they end up hurt as a result.

Lack of self-love seems to go hand in hand with feeling like a victim of your circumstances. I believe it's the fear, the insecurity, that takes away your notion of agency.

So, if you don't have agency over your life (or don't want to face the trouble of having it), somebody else has to have it. God has agency, as an omnipotent being. Yoko has agency, as John demonstrated by completely capitulating every bit of his decision power to her.

But before that, who was the person in John's life whom he could hand over responsibility for all the life decisions, the one who would take care of everything?

Paul.

Paul was the original and long lasting idol in John's life, which remained past many others, despite John's attempts to cast him away, to burn down the Golden Temple, during the breakup.

Though there's not only the aspect of removal of responsibility to it. It also relates to a matter of identity.

John hated himself as he was, but he was always hoping that if he emulated his idols, his Gods, if he made himself to their image, if he became this external thing that he loved, maybe he would become worthy of love by proxy. That's why he calls himself a chameleon. He's always morphing to reflect his newest fascination, so that he can evolve to something worthy of awe, of Love, too.

Maybe that’s what he is getting at in these verses:

The dream is over Yesterday I was the dream weaver But now I'm reborn I was the Walrus But now I'm John

Because, as we know, “the Walrus was Paul”, which according to John means:

JOHN: And throwing in the line “the Walrus was Paul” just to confuse everybody a bit more. And because I felt slightly guilty because I’d got Yoko, and he’d got nothing, and I was gonna quit. [laughs; bleak] And so I thought ‘Walrus’ has now become [in] meaning, “I am the one.” It didn’t mean that in the song, originally.

He has this desire to just merge identities with that of his chosen idol, so when Paul was his religion, he too was the Walrus. But now he is John.

Well, JohnandYoko.

John was constantly getting caught up with new idols during his lifetime. This new “religion”, this new promise of absolution and relief from his pain, this new better identity he could assume: Elvis & the Rocker, Stu & the Artist, LSD & the Enlightened Prophet, the Maharishi & the Enlightened Student, Yoko & the Revolutionary (also Yoko as the Mother and Brian and Klein as the Father).

But despite his devotions, the pain just didn't disappear and he didn't love himself more (or the love he received just didn't fill the void), and invariably the moment came when he became disillusioned, when his faith was shattered, this isn't the magic solution after all, it's just another lie, another conman. And he tore them down, rebelled against authority, walked away in anger, never looking back. Another fallen idol.

But in all of this, he never quite managed to walk away from Paul. His faith, his love, was never lost completely.

Because Paul was no ordinary God. He was extraordinary, but through his partnership with him, he made John extraordinary too. Together, they were Gods! And I think that’s the big difference; like Paul is keen on reminding us: they were Equal.

And maybe it was this unshakeable fascination, not only with Paul but with the magical thing that was JohnandPaul, that made John truly believe that he and Paul were just destined to be, cosmically connected. Why else would Paul keep standing within him even after the biggest attempt at casting him away imaginable?

Because, like with the others, the moment came when he became disillusioned with this omnipotent figure who was supposed to have all the answers, who John could just merge with and let him take those reins.

Paul could handle the things on the ground so that John could dream in the Universe. But the truly magical thing was that Paul could dream with John in the Universe too, and help him materialize those down on the ground.

He would have John's devotion in return for the removal of the pain, rescue from the fear and above else, the healing of his being with Love.

So when the pain didn't go away, the fear festered, and these annulled any love that he was getting, making him disbelieve it. John started to resent the idol again, became paranoid. Because if it was the idol's responsibility, it was also his fault. He was the one with the agency in this situation, not John. If things aren't getting better it is because of him, because he isn't trying hard enough, because he isn't attentive, because he's thriving while John is going through murder. So he mustn't love John after all. Worse, John is being taken advantage of again, conned by another false promise, stripped of his control, of his hold in his life, just so he could be smothered, buried to be used as a stepping stone.

Of course, in his usual fashion, he completely ignores his own responsibility, his choice, in handing over the reins in the first place. It's easier to just blame Paul for everything.

Instead of listening to his own words and focusing on dealing and expurging his own suffering, he weaponized it. The resentment, born of the pain of broken expectations, morphed into incendiary anger, as he attempted to destroy the thing that had wronged him.

But with Paul, he never quite managed to remove him from his mind. He was always there, in his very soul.

Maybe, despite all the pain and fear, some part of him could recognise the genuineness of Paul's love for him, it's unconditionality. For that was a better love than he received from anyone else in his life.

So, in the same way people around the world keep turning to an omnipotent/omnipresent God as someone they can just give themselves over to, hand over all the responsibility of their choices, in the hopes of being delivered from pain and fear, and being instead graced with Unconditional Love, John keeps holding on to Paul. And the degree to which he holds is a reflection of his despair, his pain. Hence, for John, "Paul is a concept by which we measure our pain".

But Paul is also The One. Paul was the Dream. The Dream was Them.

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