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The Don Juan who flits from woman to woman is not so much seeking endless conquest as he is trying eternally to find fulfilment in his quest for the beloved. Always in the sight of a new and attractive face, a kindly manner, an outgoing lovingness he fancies he has found that magic alchemy that will transform his life, give him a reason for existence, bolster his ego into the giant and invincible thing he would like it to be.
He comes together with an object for his love, and in union he is deluded for a while that his search is ended, that the beloved has been found. But, alas, all too soon the magic deserts him; he finds the object of his adoration to be human too, imperfect, subject to sin and error and sadness, and he deserts her, takes up the quest anew, a quest that never will be fulfilled short of its being focused upon the Divine, short of its being a search for God.
The pleasures of the flesh will not satisfy it, nor even provide forgetfulness for more than a moment, and the longing of the soul to be reunited with its entire being, with its true Self, with its Lord and Master, remains with the soul always until that longing is eased by divine union.
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