Journal

June 29th, 2005

There are a number of things some people don't like about me. Although this will come off as defensive to some, most criticism is simply a form of projection from one person who doesn't get it onto another person that may or may not get it and serves as a form of karmic flatulence for the giver and a bad smell to everyone else. Of course, there are criticisms that are well founded and even deserved including but not limited to my relationship with footwear.

You do not want to go shoe shopping with me. Trust me on this one, you don't. Hell, I don't even like going out shoe shopping as my number one complain is the choices women have whereas men's sections are--well, sorely lacking. And yes, this is a superficial complaint from one sentient who has a questionable relationship with their shoes.

When I buy a pair of shoes I want them to fit me like a glove--except on my feet! I want them to be comfortable and look good and be useful and versatile and I want them to last three to five years. And I don't want to own a bunch of shoes, just enough to get the job done and for most of my life this has meant a pair of shoes or boots. And so finding that right pair of shoes or boots can take me hours or days or literally weeks of dropping into different stores--and oh, the biggest frustration aside from not being able to find something I'm willing to pour $79.95 into is that my shoe size is in the middle of the bell curve and quite often the shoes I like are sold out in my size.

And so it's back to walking from store to store to store and every kind of place you could imagine. I'll hit the indoor malls, the outdoor malls, and then I'll find something I really want and oh…it's only $395.99! Bugger.

And so it's back to walking from store to store to store. Are you getting the message? You do not want to go shoe shopping with me! I act like I'm buying a new car, lifting the hood, going for a test drive. Do I like the colour? Is the seat comfortable? Does the engine have a nice sound to it when I hit the accelerator?

Last weekend Vipasanna and I went out shoe shopping. Now normally I advise my friends against this mistake as no one, including myself, has the patience for going shoe shopping with myself. In this case, however, she knew of a shop I'd never been to before so as we did other errands we stopped at this little mall I'd never been to and I saw these boots…

[insert shimmering flashback effect here]

The night before I was up late surfing the internet. I did a quick search for "motorcycle boots", since I've been looking for something I could use for my motorcycle course in August. I wanted a pair of boots that would be functional, not necessarily motorcycle boots, reasonable in price, comfortable, and nice looking. The first pair I found I liked, they were $179.95.

[shimmering effect brings us back to the present]

And so we get to this little mall I'd never been to and I saw the exact same boots I'd been looking at on the internet and they were marked down about 50%. So I'm thinking, okay, I'll try them on but I've never had a pair of "shit kickers", as on of my co-workers enjoys calling them, and didn't know how I'd like them. So I put these boots on and it's just a strange feeling…the old beatup boots I have now are military jump boots that tie up nice and snug, hugging me close, and are flexible and breath well. And so here I am and within five minutes of trying on these shit-kickers I'm walking out the door with them on.

Synchronicity aside, the really interesting thing is at first these boots felt more like slippers. I like having big black boots that hug my legs and ankles in a warm embrace, gives me a sense of comfort. So now I'm going to wear boots that are unlike any I've owned before. They're definitely not something I'd describe as being in my "comfort zone".

So I have to wonder, if you don't learn to step out of your comfort zones what the hell are you using them for?

Goodnight,

June 28th, 2005

When I was fourteen I got a special driver's license that allowed me to drive my blind father from place to place. Usually I drove him to or picked him up from his Toastmaster's meetings, although on the holidays I would get practice being in the driver's seat of our 1984 silver Volvo GL stationwagon. So here I was, only fourteen years old, driving one or two hundred miles at a stretch and every now and then having to listen to my blind dad screaming, "Slow down!" from the back seat even though I was always going spot-on the speed limit and, "Dad! The cruize control's been on for the last 20 miles!"

Needless to say I became a perfectionistic driver at a very early age--which comes in handy these days!

(: Zoom, zoom, zoom :)

One morning the entire family was in the car and as usual I was in the driver's seat getting practice and hogging the tape deck (most likely listening to some teenie bop 80's beauty, Sting, or some other such thing). We'd just passed through Sacramento then Red Bluff, soon we'd hit Redding and that afternoon we'd stop to stay a day or two in Mount Shasta with my Nana.

To keep myself from getting too bored (or sleepy) I'd amuse myself with all sorts of driving games. For instance, I might guess how many mile posts until the next town or I'd see how many cars I could pass--while obeying all the traffic laws. This last one, in particular, was my favourite game as the constant oversight from my parents made it incredibly challenging.

So there I was, doing the speed limit on I-5 and I move into the left lane and begin to pass a lori. Suddenly a car comes up from behind and tail gates me--oh goddess, how I used to (and still) hate that--and of course I'm stuck going the speed limit for fear my parents might tell me to pull to the side of the road so I mozie on past the lori, turn on my blinker, and pull into the right lane at which point this car just shoots on by to our left.

Ten or fiften minutes later I come up behind a car going ten or so miles slower than the speed limit. I signal, move into the left lane, and while I'm passing I glance at the other car and notice a woman driving the vehicle that had shot past me a few miles back.

Long story short, this happened about five times in a row before Redding, California. She'd come up and tailgate me then pass, I'd pass her, she'd come up fast from behind and pass, I'd pass her, and all the while I was going a constant 65mph. The last time I saw her she came up behind about about 80 miles per hour then slowed down to my speed for a second, looked me in the face, flipped me off, and then shot away going at least a hundred.

I have noticed the more balance you have within yourself, the more centered you are, the more "there" and healthy and "together" and focused you've made your heart, mind, and spirit--the more often you'll get flipped off by people without cruize control.

Take care and goodnight,

This summer is the first where the hot tub's been working. Jumping in at 9pm and enjoying a sunset is a new and wonderful experience. I sat out tonight enjoying the shades of blue transition away.

So what else did I discover I have in common with Sonia Choquette? And why doesn't it surprise me?

For the last month I haven't been able to attend any Toastmaster's meetings. Part of this has been due to the fact that we've changed the meeting location which has made it difficult for me to stop work, run to the other building for an hour, then come back--I just do not have the time, most days. Another part of it is the pace of things at work lately--I've had to temporarily take upon myself the lifestyle of a work-a-holic (again) to get things done and as such don't take lunch breaks and have had to skip Toastmasters more than I'd like.

*pout*

Anyhow, as I often do before giving a speech I'm going to write my speech here on my journal--so if you're a fellow Toastmaster I ask that you not read this journal entry yet as I enjoy giving speeches fresh--yet at the same time I also like to write the words down, make them concrete, before giving the speech.

Also, for a little background, last week's meeting, which I could not attend, was themed "Favourite TV Shows". This gave me a starting point for the speech I will give tomorrow which is currently without a title (don't worry, I'll come up with one five minutes before giving it!).

Three summers ago my roomate and I were driving around Seattle looking for somewhere to stay the night. We'd already spent one night in a dumpy, expensive hotel and wanted something a bit nicer and only marginally more expensive so we stopped at one and then another then another near Seatac international airport. Many places were full and the left overs were boiled up to more expensive dumps and even more expensive and unaffordable luxury hotels. What to do, what to do?

Just for the hell of it we stopped at the Hilton. Niether of us thought we could afford it but since we were checking out almost every other place--like I said, "What the hell."

So we're standing inside at the front desk and my back's getting sore as it sometimes does when I've done too much standing at front desks. By now I'm getting impatient, my roomate's asking about the prices which are thirty or fourty dollars more than we want to spend. I'm standing there uncomfortably looking out the door thinking about getting in the car and just finding a cheap dump when a man in a starfleet uniform walks through the door.

I point this out to my roomate and we ask the lady behind the desk what was going on. "Oh, there's a Star Trek convention here this weekend," she says.

And so for thirty or forty bucks more we rented a room and more or less snuck into the convension. There we saw actors and actresses from Star Trek, Babylon Five, and other sci-fi series.

I remember we were walking down a hall looking at t-shirts--my roomate was going to buy a Farscape shirt--when we peaked our heads through a door and there, just ten or fifteen feet away from us, was Captain James Tiberius Kirk sitting there calmly as if there wasn't anything abnormal about this! Sure, he was a little more plump than I remember him and the uniform had been replaced by a t-shirt and a casual jacket, but there he was, real as life, and my brain couldn't quite get a grip on the fact that I was really looking at someone I've seen thousands and thousands and thousands of times on tv and on the big screen.

When I turned to my roomate I found that she too had that "deer in the headlights" look in her face--and she wasn't a Star Trek fan!

When I was a kid TV was a very different thing. There was ABC, CBS, NBC, PBS, and maybe a few other odd channels--and if your parents spoiled you had HBO so you could catch new episodes of Fraggle Rock. Back in the day I could have a favourite show and you'd know about it and you'd have a favourite show and I'd have seen it. We could be complete strangers with something to talk about besides the weather!

These days basic cable comes with over 30 channels and with digital cable or Dish Network comes hundreds and hundreds of choices. Expecting anyone to watch much less have heard of the same program is becoming more and more statistically improbable.

Okay, with a showing of hands can you please tell me... How many of you have seen Star Trek? Little House on the Prarie? The Dukes of Hazard?

Now how many of you have seen CSI Miami? TV Journal on Link TV? How many have even heard of Green Wing?

As ancient tribes once told their stories around the campfire we shared ours and they were painted on the screen with vibrating electrons. And yet I fear that one day the question will not be what my favourite show is but whether or not you've even heard of it.

And at that point we'll have to talk about the weather.

Fellow Toastmasters,

I am not the touchy feely type, I don't need hugs to feel good about about myself. I'm not the social type, I can spend days or weeks alone without a word. I am not the "smiley" type yet my emotions run deep--if you do not see them why do you project your fears onto my joy, my exploration, my fantasy?

I am not what you think I am. I am not the quiet guy who is too shy to get out of the corner. I am not the jilted guy too afraid to say go. I am not the stressed out guy unaware--or incapable of cirmounting--my suffering. I am not the blind man asking for change. And I am not the clown acting out your story--unless you put it upon yourself.

I am not the perfectionist without the reality check and I am not the fool without a clue. I am not the sinner without a hope or the student without a test or the teacher without a lesson. And I am not the child at the bottom that complains about the distance to the top...but I do need to take water for the climb.

Yet I am eternally the child, climbing, sitting, resting, watching, laughing, crying, thinking, growing, yearning, and moving forward.

Nothing broken, nothing mended. Nothing mistaken, nothing learned. Nothing attempted, nothing failed. Nothing sought, nothing missed. Something lost, something given. Always in balance, even anger my friend, even anger!

So what is it that you want? Nothing? Impossible! You threw the dice upon the table my friend! Give, take, love, hate, learn, grow, heal, but live and breath and move and grow and choose and walk and run and oh!!!

That is the choice to live.

Always,

You'll have to forgive me, I'm a little out of sorts tonight. I've been working all day with a few small breaks...trying to get some things out of the way so I don't have to think about them anymore...and all the while my nose has been running non-stop and I've had five or six bloody noses since this morning. I haven't had a sinus infection in years so I'm hoping I can fight this one off with saline solution and vitamins (plus it helps that I don't smoke anymore). And then there's a "friend" of mine who refuses to respect my boundaries and I've given it several weeks but it's just the same thing day in and day out.

I've never figured this one out. I have said in my life, "I don't like being abused," and people just kept taking their anger out on me. I have said to people, "You know, if you use my property I would like you to treat it with respect," and have heard in return, "Fuck you, don't be lame." I have asked people not to lie to me and they have said, "That's just who I am." I have asked this most recent person to back off and give me space and on average every second day they contact me to say, "Hey, I know you asked me to give you space but I just wanted to remind you I cared about you. Okay, now I'll back off."

Two days later?

So, I've communicated my boundary almost a dozen times. I've asked said person to give me space, back off, and finally I just had to ask them not to contact me again until I decided to resume relations. Clear enough, right? They said they'd respect that, right?

And what's left to me when they continue to contact me afterwards?

I hate being in that position but what's left? I get to be the bad guy, right? I get to tell them to sod off because they won't leave me the hell alone, right? It's either turn off the e-mail and the IM--which I can't do because I need them for my job--or I get to be the jerk.

What it really comes down to is I know how I will allow people to treat me and this doesn't fall into that category. So all I'm left with is "goodbye".

I'm sorry, but you've left me no option.

Goodbye.

It is ironic, years ago when I really dived into my spiritual quest I quickly found karma to be my worste enemy--and my best friend. Situations I'd put people into would come my way but three or ten fold in intensity! To be more clear, I used to border well into the area of harrassing and I pushed and I pushed and I pushed and I pushed people away.

Karma is laughing at me saying, "Hey, remember when you acted like this? Well, now its your turn to be on the other side of the fence."

I could react in the same way others have to returned karma but instead I take a lot of time to look it over. I was on the other side once and now I'm in a beautiful position where I can look at both sides of the situation subjectively and objectively all at the same time. I look deep down at the karma and instead of getting mad, instead of letting it bind me into and endless cycle, I say, "I will understand and accept the karma and I will free it."

And so that is what I do.

So yesterday my roomate and best friend introduced me to a new TV series called 30 Days that was put together by the same guy that did the movie Super Size Me. This new show is about getting in the shoes of another person for 30 days so you can learn and grow and evolve--hey, kinda like The Temple in a way ;-) In the premier the guy from Super Size Me and his fiance stopped all their cash flow and attemped to live on minimum wage doing minimum wage jobs for 30 days--and having been there myself I can say what they went through is not only realistic, but unfortunately the struggle so many Americans live with daily and it's a goddamn joke. One of the few redeeming reality shows ever made, check it out.

For those who are curious, yesterday my dad was taken to the hospital for chest pains and "coded". After my mother screamed her bloody head off getting seemingly the whole hospital staff to revive him he had a stint (?) put in and was doing much better. He's home today.

It's interesting different people's reactions.

My mother, when she called to let me know how things were going, seemed very cheery. So you know, this goes completely against everything I know about my mother who can get stressed out and depressed very easily about something like this--typically she doesn't handle it well. But last night on the phone she was cheery and hopeful and I was thinking to myself, "This is good."

Granted, it's temporary. But she's grown a lot over the years and I'm proud of her.

As to my roomate, she almost cried when she found out. I can't say why but I'm sure part of it is because she's a CNA in a cardiac unit and my dad was here just this last weekend so there's a great deal of love for the old fart and frustration that she didn't notice/say anything about the warning signs.

And me? I saw all of this on the weekend and my intuitive self said, "Don't worry about it, Aslynn, there's nothing you can do now, everything will be fine."--and I've learned to trust it. Except this has been the first time I've trusted it with something as potentially serious as this so that is a surprise to me. Yet I do wonder when I'll get that gut feeling, "Hey, it's time for you to take action, Aslynn." Until then, though, I wait.

Anyway, that has been my day. For the last hour I sit, have some ice cream, record Green Wing, and tweak the build machine.

Cheers,

No picture today but you will live I promise

Today I've been very tired. I've gotten a cold from one (two) of my co-workers and it's made my head stuffy and my nose runny then not runny then bloody and ugh. But I'm being a good trooper, plugging my way through the day, and getting to the end of it.

I've spent a lot of time over the last year thinking about The Temple. What is this "place" all about? It's evolved so much over the last eight or so years. At first it was just "my" place on the internet where I kept links and short stories. It evolved into a place I could share things, where I could rant, where I could express anger and frustration, and at times, a place where I could stand up for myself and those I cared about against slanderers and the like. And then it evolved into a place where I would begin to write down the hardest lessons I'd learned in this life in hopes that someone would wake up the easy way cause I didn't and everyone I know doesn't and I thought Jesus H if only we could use our experiences to learn and teach and grow and feel and experience and create more joy in our lives and the lives of others now instead of saying, "Hey, I know it all, I've living in my comfortable box, and that's fine, ya know?"

So why do I sit down and write in this journal almost every evening? Why do I share my experiences, my sorrow, my joy, with everyone in the world? Why do I open so much of my life up to all of my friends, family, and complete strangers? And what do I have left to share? What do you think the answers to those questions are? And what is the truth?

So this evening I'm going to rent the second DVD in the Fat Actress series with Kirstie Allie. I watched the first and was very impressed that she would take subject matter most of us aren't willing to discuss, much less turn into comedy. And I have an enormous amount of respect for anyone who can openly talk, joke, and work on their issues like she does. These are, quite frankly, marks of an evolving spirit.

Anyhow, I must be going. I need to lay down.

P.S. So now they're advertising chemotherapy drugs on tv. Please let me know when they're selling home lobotomy kits 'cause I'll need one at that point!

P.P.S. Frack, I forgot to upload the descriptions for the photos I took last Saturday!!! Up now! Enjoy.

I must apologize as I've found that the news links from yesterday are no longer valid. What's up with that, BBC?

A short explanation, Subject #2 was regarding a study on Buddhist monks that demonstrated that meditation can rewire the brain to do things that Western scientists previously thought were impossible. Subject #3 was about the 6th (I believe) Dalai Lama who loved alcohol and women but who stirred up the superficial believers and followers who eventually murdered him--oh wait, why would they do a silly thing like that?

There are few people in this world I could count on. Okay, 4 people. That's how many I could count on in any way, shape, or form. Two of them I could count on if I was in a tight spot and two, my parents, anytime and without question.

My parents were by this weekend and my dad was having chest pains. He's had heart attacks in the past so this obviously isn't a good thing. So he doesn't tell anyone--my roomate and I--psychic voyeurs that we are--both picked up that something was amiss. And tomorrow I've learned my father is going in for an angiogram.

I used to wonder what I'd do without my parents. When I've been lied to, stolen from, cheated on, abandoned, and everything else you could imagine, they were always there for me. No, they've never been the kind of parents I could talk to about things and frankly many of my experiences would give them both strokes--but they were always there and that's something I cannot say about anyone I've ever known in this lifetime.

So what would I do if one of them or both of them died?

It would suck, no doubt, and it would be a shock to my system in-as-much as death is often a shock to the system. You can imagine it happening all you want but it's not the same as having it happen. And imagining is never quite the same as the experience. But what would it be like to not have them there when I needed them? And for my best friend to be on her way in life, as is in the script? And everyone else has gone or left me completely alone? Would I spend the rest of my days reading, painting, and jogging on my own?

Then again, that sounds just fine too. I can wait for life, I can wait for death, I can wait for the next lifetime and the next. They say it'll all work out in the end but that's not completely enlightened. It'll all work out now. That's a deeper understanding.

Today on a scale from one to ten: 5. Didn't get enough sleep. Work was challenging. I pushed myself like a crazy man on my jog. Learned (in 3 dimentional time-space) about my dad. Was sent two messages by someone that told me they'd back off. Had an excellent salad, saw a great cooking show, and was the only man, a man dressed entirely in black and red and sunglasses, in a fabric store. Now must goto bed...

I have a feeling this is going to be a somewhat long journal entry so you will have to forgive me, Aslynn is in a rambling mood.

Subject #1:
I love my monkey!

He may be crooked and broken and he likes Depends undergarments, but I love him in spite of all of this. That's all I wanted to say about that.

Subject #2:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/4613759.stm

No shit, Sherlock. You can reprogram your brain. I mean, if you can do it with a bloody computer most certainly you can do it with yourself!

And I have! Ha!

Subject #3:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/4073630.stm

Yes! And no! Don't you 'diots get what enlightenment is about?!?

Subject #4:
Sometimes you have to make decisions in your life you don't exactly like. Hard decisions, tough decisions, decisions that aren't exactly fun, decisions that force you to learn, to grow, and to become something bigger than you are, than you were.

Subject #5:
I have been challenged with five such decisions in the last month. I did right. And I feel as alone as hell.

Subject #6:
When I retire I will build a small cabin in the mountains next to a stream filled with trout. I will spend my days fishing and taking care of the horses and going on hikes and tending the garden and chopping wood. I will watch the sunrise and enjoy the sunset. And I will die in peace.

Subject #7:
I need to learn a new kind of patience. It's a certain kind of paitence I can't even describe to you because I've learned the other types, those types most people mean when they say "patience". I need to learn something bigger, grander.

I have learned to wait for the next life and the next. I need to find the patience outside of time and space.

Do you understand?

Subect #7:
I feel like the more I push myself to learn and grow and improve and evolve...the more I leave those in my life behind.

Perhaps this is simply an illusion.

Maybe it's not.

I do not know.

Subject #8:
They've asked me what I want for father's day...but I've only been a father for three or four years. Oh, my daughter finishes fourth grade in a week! And I remember waking up in the morning to take her to the bus stop and holding her hand in mine and waiting for that big yellow bus to arrive and then doing the same thing in the afternoon! That was first grade and now she's so close to being a teenager!

And yet I sometimes just feel like I'm the interloper. I stepped into her life when no one else would. I walked into her life because there was a responsibility and I'd learned to climb mountains.

I don't deserve anything. My daughter, she deserves everything. And every day I can become a better father. Some day it will be the time to become a trusted friend.

Subject #9:
Tonight I had five episodes of synchronicity within an hour. No, no, this is not strange for me but I really have to wonder, does anyone I know out there have some kind of connection with the name Munoz? I know, it's probably a red herring but I choose to ask.

Subject #10:
Goodnight. And yes.

I was woken up quite early this morning in order that I might commune with my family or that is to say have breakfast which is more or less exactly what we did. My roomate and daughter then left for a baby shower and shortly after showing me how to use my new (circa 1966) sewing machine my father and mother left for their home.

I have never been invited to a baby shower. I have never been invited to a bachelor party. I can count the number of parties I've been invited to over my adult lifetime on both of my hands. On the other hand I know that you can't change anyone, only be available when they are somehow in need. And that is a good trade.

And so this afternoon I am going to go on a drive up to that place and I'm going to perfect my aim while at the same time killing a defenseless hay stack.

I keep loosing at Powerball. Granted, I've only bought 3 or 4 tickets in my entire life, but you'd think by now I'd at least win enough so that strange relatives I've never heard of before would begin knocking on my door asking for favours. *sigh* Guess the universe doesn't want me to be an eccentric multimillionaire just yet!

This quote is for all those I have loved:

"No one can turn you completely upside down and inside out. You must accept yourself as you are, instead of as you would like to be, which means giving up self-deception and wishful thinking."

- Chogyam Trungpa

Merry part, blessed be, and have a most excellent day,

Today was the quickest jog I've done to date. I think it was a combination of the strength and endurance training plus a little techno-industrial--which I don't typically listen to as that type of music makes me loose my jogging rhythm which is in fact much different than my driving rhythm.

It took me several weeks to learn to pace myself and it was a difficult lesson for me to learn. You see, I've always been one of these people that could see a goal and easily conceptualize the path to said goal so the very idea of pacing myself was anathema. If I could see it in my mind, if I could fold the paper and make point A touch point B without any distance between the two points I should be able to do that in a three dimentional universe too, right?

Nope.

I tried jogging a few years ago and it was tough. I didn't know why I didn't like it but I didn't like it--I'd summed it all up to a dislike for the feeling of utter intellectual boredom I often got excercising for any length of time.

Now I know it was because it was a spiritual lesson.

I used to run at a very quick pace until I wore myself out--as I have done in most things for most of my life--and that leads to a lot of walking and panting and little jogging. So I tried staggered walking and running (not literal staggering, mind you!) and that helped a little but I still couldn't go that far. Then I found that jogging to a slow rhythm wasn't only challenging, but forced me to be more aware of my body, my weight distribution, how I let my feet impact the pavement, my breath, etc. I started doing this a few months back and each new evening found myself going just a little farther, sweating a little less, breathing more calmly, feeling my strength in my feet, calves, and head. Instead of all the blood rushing from my brain to my legs, which was in effect much of the cause of my intellectual boredom, I'd slowly built up enough muscle mass and mitochondria in those cells that my body was distributing energy much more effectively.

To keep this pace at first I had to listen to the news on my headphones or some medium paced music. Dave Mathews and Tori Amos were in, Blade III soundtrack was out. I'd also have to keep my eyes down close to my feet. Looking up caused me to loose my concentration, focus too much outside of myself instead of on the movement of my body, and I'd loose patience seeing that place a hundred yards out where I planned to start walking again.

Though artificial these habits helped me learn to pace myself. This is another term for what Buddhists call going the "Staying Speed". I just never thought I'd hear myself comparing jogging to Buddhism.

Today I got out there on the path and turned on the MP3 player. "What do I want to listen to today?" I asked myself but truth be told I didn't have a clue. First thing I heard was a Dave Matthew's Band song. Second thing, the Blade soundtrack. And I thought this is great, I'm going to try listening to something with a more aggressive ryhthm and see if I can retain my pace.

And I did. And damnit if two to three months from now I'll do a fifty minute walk-jog in fifteen to twenty minutes. How'z that for a goal?

No more worm-hole technology for this ol' boy.

An explanation behind the picture of my "hug me" bear-monkey. This little guy hangs from the top bunk of bed and has been there since February. My roomate and daughter bought him for me after a few bad experiences in late January, early Febuary, that left me feeling empty and unwanted--and as many of you know Valentine's day isn't the easiest day to feel that way on (even for those of use who don't remember the last time we had a Valentine). So they bought me this little gift and I got in that bed that night and just held onto it and cried. Manly, I know, but then I don't have a desire to be anything but what I am.

Last night I was laying on the bottom bunk/couch trying to fall asleep and having a horrible case of insomnia. I sleep on the bottom bunk on the weekends, you see, long explanation for another time! Anyway, I'm laying there listening to Coast to Coast AM and I see my monkey-bear thing hanging there and I just think it would be nice for a little company, even if it's imaginative, so I pull him down and look at him, make him dance around a little, wonder what his personality might be like, then cuddle up with him, this reminder that I am valued, and eventually fall asleep.

It's not important if you lie next to someone at night or you lie alone--or with a little red "hug me" bear-monkey. So then what is?

Goodnight,

My favourite line from The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, goes a little something like this:

"Assumption is the mother of all fuck ups!"

I can, without a doubt, trace all of my grandest "fuck ups" to even grander assumptions.

Take this one for instance, the belief as a child that adults were this advanced and mature race of beings that were honest, kind, thoughtful, compassionate, caring, sincere--all these grandiose things I'd gotten from shows growing up. Well, I hit my twenties, found out this was a load of rubbish, and spent many years trying to deal with that "little" assumption.

That may not seem like such a big assumption but it has thousands of ramifications. For instance, say someone says, "I'll call you back," what does that mean? After the first person doesn't call you back and the second and the third, what people say starts to loose meaning.

Oh trust, sweet memory!

Here's another fucked up assumption I used to make. It wasn't an assumption so much but it was...when you look down deep at it. You see, I had a tendancy to see people one way or the other--to extremes. I saw people as wonderful, beautiful, or without fault, or I would see them as completely fucked up and an enemy that needed to get their shit together. I assumed, on an emotional level, that people were either one or the other.

Forgive me, I am rambling tonight. It has been a long week...

So what if one day you could see into the light and at the same moment into the shadows? What if you could see the "good" and the "bad" all at the same time? What if you had a road map that pointed the way, a fast forward button so you could see around the corners, a screenplay that was ready to be read but one that you learned you could change...within certain karmic limits?

I spent a great many years not quite trusting my gut. I kept saying, "I must be fair" and "I can't assume", etc., etc., etc. I found every reason not to believe, not to trust, not to move forward and yet time and time again I found the assumption that I could live a "normal" life with "normal" perceptions was the mother of all my fuck ups.

I think much of my past was full of fear that my perceptions were projections and I'd end up running in circles chasing my tail, always trying to validate the things I'd seen, always judging people unfairly, always seeing something that wasn't there. And for someone who has always valued and tried to find truth above all things--this was not a comfortable place for me.

Then it was almost as if the universe was throwing situation after situation in my face as if to say: WAKE UP!!!! Synchronicity became a monthly occurance, then a weekly, then a daily, now sometimes an hourly one. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" the universe was saying and I was laying there in bed going, "Damnit, give me fifteen more minutes!"

And then I ended up in this space where perception and projection became limited by the moment and there were always an infinite number of futures from each of those perceptions and moments and I found myself closer and closer to the fulcrum. And then I was afraid and not afraid all at the same time, lonely and complete all at the same time, full and empty, not full and not empty, looking back at the old streets where they sold their wears with coins we don't use now and laughing and thinking not much has changed, has it, Aslynn?

There is a certain peace that comes with knowing. A certain sense of patience. And then...

Why?

How'z that for a little freewriting?

Oh yeah, a lot of people won't recognize the picture. It's Chiana from a little Jim Henson flick called Farscape. And every man I know who's watched that show think she's a babe. The truth is she's a trelk. The truth is I used to go for trelk's too. Then I woke up.

Aslynn out.

Half way through my jog that little rechargable in my Muvo died and instead of listening to Dave Matthews for the last 25 minutes I listened to my feet hit the pavement, the slick-slick-slick sound of my pants, the barking of dogs, and jets flying overhead.

I was wondering when I'd begin to recognize people on my little treks.

Most nights, between 7 and 8, an older oriental couple walks towards my home as I'm jogging away and the man always has headphones on. For this obvious reason they never speak to one another but seem interested in walking, air, and nature.

There's a cute little red head with curls going down to her shoulders who always gives me a little cute look and we pass each other like two jogging people jogging in two different directions.

Then there are these two oriental women, one skinny, one large, with this tiny yappy dog without a leash that always tries to commit suicide by positioning itself directly under my feet.

There's this woman who wiggles her hips and her arms as she does this semi-fast-slow-cooky walk thing.

And then there's this git with black running pants, unkempt hair, an MP3 player out of juice, and always something on his mind.

Tomorrow afternoon my parents are coming to visit. They're bringing my sewing machine (inheritance from my Nana) which I had them take to an old friend who repairs them. So Sunday or Monday I'll be down 2 parents and $70 and up 1 sewing machine.

To Do:

Replace zipper in daughter's pants
Add grabber-doohikies to my bedsheet (my own invention, too long to explain and not worth explaining! ;)
A new wardrobe.

Garbage Pail Kids are back!

(: Oh, the memories! :)

So now the only things left to do tonight are take out the garbage and record Green Wing for my roomate. This is the first time ever where I'm watching Monty Python and thinking, "Hurry up and get over, I must be to bed soon!" A perfect day, in-as-much as there can be a thing, includes NPR in the morning, an effectual workday, a jog, a good dinner, a good book, a good laugh, and a peaceful 7 to 9 hour nap covered in at most 2 cats.

Tomorrow I write a little application to handle XML.

Goodnight,

June 7th, 2005

Frustration.

We all get frustrated from time to time. In fact, it's unusual for most people not to become frustrated at some point during the day whether it be regarding the fact that we ran out of toothpaste in the morning or the pilot light went out and the shower is cold or the freeway is packed or we get to work and it seems like everything that can go wrong does go wrong or we realize we forgot to do x, y, or z and we need to do it instead of go out to lunch with an old friend. You name it, as human beings we're damn near experts at finding something to get frustrated about.

And so I speak about frustration.

Today has been one of those days where frustration reached the point where smoking again seemed like not only a good idea, but a wise one. It seemed that every other minute someone needed something from me at work and others, for no apparent reason, were irritated. Communication was at an all time low when one coworker said something that I found extremely troublesome and when I point blank told them it wasn't appreciated they told me point blank that they could care less.

I came home, nearly in a panic attack, and went jogging. When I got back inside and online the first thing that happened was a friend starts pushing me about whether or not I read their e-mail, whether or not I wanted to talk. "Do you?" "No." "You don't?" "Now is not a good time, I've had a horrible day." "Oh, okay, so..." Type, type, type...

Grrr...

Ironically, though your and my frustrations may be very different, the cause is the same. You and I are both frustrated whenever the way things are don't match the way we think they ought to be. The level of our frustration is directly proportional to the difference between "the way things should be" and "the way things are."

So the next question: is frustration good or is it bad?

Say the pilot light for my hot water heater continually goes out (a situation I can empathize with). This definitely fits into the category of the way things aught-not to be! I can do one of two things, I can simply be frustrated or I can use my frustration as a catalyst for change. In this case I called someone and paid a hundred or so dollars to have part of the hot water heater replaced. No more cold showers!

Okay, now say someone says something I consider abusive (another situation I can empathize with). I can ignore it and let it fester. I can bitch, whine, and moan, or I can confront that person and indicate as clearly as I'm able that they're crossing a line and I won't tolerate it a second or third or fourth time.

Now the first example is a situation with an economic cost associated with it. I want hot water, I pay to get it. The second is a situation with a social cost to it, I stand up for myself and am potentially labeled by the person I speak to. Both have something in common: they are frustrations that you and I have power to change so that reality more closely matches what we want. These are, I consider, good frustrations to have and to act upon.

A "bad" frustration then is something we cannot change.

Take for instance traffic. Some days it downright sucks and I'm sitting there behind a huge SUV in a car that goes from 0 to lightspeed in TACO. What's the point of being frustrated with it, honking my horn, slamming my fist, cursing, and raising my blood pressure? That isn't going to change anything.

That is insane.

And so 2005 has been a very frustrating year for me. I have been put in several situations that often weren't win-win, situations where I was left with no choice but to either stick my tail between my legs or stand up for my daughter, my best friend, and/or myself--and possibly loose a great deal in the process. Being stuck in a corner like that is, for me at least, very frustrating.

Yet I always ask myself, "Is this something I can change? Can I make the world better for myself, for my family, my friends, my co-workers, and any others my life touches?"

Frustration is so much easier when I know one thing: That I am capable of effecting positive change.

Goodnight,

P.S. Saw a segment on the Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh commune tonight on OPB and I'm frustrated so I'm going to do something about it, I'm going to share a bit of truth with you.

I was not there but I read sociological journals written by sociologists who were there. They studied the lifestyle, philosophical, and spiritual beliefs of the people and presented an objective report demonstrating their findings.

Unlike OPB proclaimed, commune members were not into "free love" but unlike most of "free" America they did not enforce a standard lifestyle on anyone in the commune. There were those who chose a single lifestyle, others who were monogamous and/or married, and others who enjoyed polyfedelitous lifestyles. The freedom they had was the freedom to choose their relationships in a way you and I don't necessarily enjoy.

How about the fact that some of them started carrying weapons?

I remember being a young boy at the time. My parents were teachers and I clearly recall them talking about kids at the high school who had bragged about driving up to surrounding hills of the commune. They'd traveled all the way out there to take pot shots at commune members with their hunting rifles.

Does OPB, like so many other news sources, just overlook this little bit of information?

So if you were living in a county where most of the people outside your community were white, bigotted, almost exclusively "Christian" (I put quotes around that because many of them didn't follow the teachings of Christ)--and if they harrassed and sometimes shot at you, if you lived in a community where the local police did nearly nothing to protect you, wouldn't you carry a weapon too? Wouldn't you say the county was full of bigots?

OPB, yes, someone in that commune went over the top, f'd up, and committed some illegal acts. Nothing makes that right. But your reporting was biased and in many ways completely inaccurate. I know, I read the sociological studies and I spent a great deal of time interviewing someone who actually lived, loved, and worked, there.

And that, my friends, is a bit of truth.

June 6th, 2005

Sorrow.

I sometimes feel like I've had more than my share of sorrow. Then there are times I feel like I would take all the sorrow of those I care about upon myself in an instant for their betterment and well being. And there are times, like today, where I feel like I've done my time, I deserve some happiness, pampering, and joy.

And so I speak about sorrow.

Today has been one of those Mondays people call in sick to avoid. No, nothing bad at work happened, I just felt tired in every way, shape, and form, and lonely as all hell and thinking why don't I get to go home and have a special someone there to take care of me? Why has my life been filled with abandonment, drug addicts, users, habitual liars, cheats, psychotics--people with every psychological fucked up problem immaginable!

The road I have taken over the last four or five years is not the road less traveled, it is the overgrown forest path only the deer and the wolf packs follow, a path hidden to most but somehow clear to me under the steady glow of the moonlight. It is a path filled with much loneliness and sorrow and too many challenges to mention.

On a day such as today I think about much. I think I don't like being stuck behind a computer all day, this isn't life, I think. I ask myself why I've taken on the responsibilities I've taken on at work and at home. Am I insane? Nobody I know takes on things like this and even when I'm given a way out I don't take it! Why do I stay committed to things even when they drum me into the ground? Why do I continue to have hope for people when I see so little to make me hope that others can overcome their issues, psychological problems, childhood wounds, their karma?

I promised myself a few things many years ago. One of those things is I wouldn't give up hope. And I never have.

Oh, I miss smoking! I miss my 20 little friends who were always there for me stinging my lungs and making me smell badly and everything, I miss them so much, my friends, my only real, true, bonefied, always honest, sergeon generals promise, friends!

And I miss being a work-a-holic, coming home and spending three to six hours a night working, working, working until I flopped over into bed from exhaustion!

I miss soda pop and chips and oily, crappy food every day and every night! And I miss spending money left and right whenever I felt like it!

And I miss believing someone was out there for me or that someone would come put their arms around me and reassure me and say, "I fucked up and I'm sorry, I do care!"

Oh god, do I miss cigarettes...do you understand how easy it would be to give in to something I can have within five minutes and for $4? Most things in life you either have to work for until you've got dozens of grey hairs to show for it (that sounds too familiar!) or it's just not ever gonna happen unless the Goddess is on your side--but cigarettes, that's something I could have NOW and they would absolutely make me feel WONDERFUL in every way with the exception of guilt!

*fuck*

So I share in complete honesty some of my personal sorrows. Judge them, learn from them, do with them whatever you wish. Learn, empathize, connect, or jump in your cage and shadow box with me, the choice is yours and yours alone.

Overcoming sorrow isn't easy, but anyone can do it. No, you don't need a lot of money or time to do it. You don't need a lot of friends or support to do it. And you don't need a bloody shrink. You don't need to be of a certain faith or colour or class or sex or gender. You simply have to come to the table with a great deal of courage and honesty and a mirror to gaze in.

And then accept and understand what you see.

I don't guarantee ease or happiness or joy. This is a path towards wisdom and personal responsibility. This is a path towards the clearing of karma. This is a path towards finding solace and strength in your sorrow.

This is a path towards freedom.

A few words from one tired, worn out, and lonely Pygmie,

I woke up this afternoon thinking that I would go up by the rose gardens and get off a few shots on the recurve. I knew I needed to get out and have known for the last week my, for lack of a better word, "calibration" was off--and as so many Zen masters have practiced in the past I sometimes use the bow to help focus myself.

I peaked out the blinds and found that it had been raining. So much for cowboys and indians.

This weekend I went easy on myself, I allowed myself to trip and to simply experience the feeling of falling, falling.

Some backstory...for most of my life I've been addicted to 64+ ounces of pop a day (which was most of my "diet" while going to college), to staying up late (2-3am), sleeping in past noon, and smoking.

For the last Goddess knows how many months I have not had much pop, except the occassional Big Gulp on the weekends, have been excercising with increasing regularity, have been eating more regular, well balanced meals, getting up at a decent time, going to bed at a decent times, in a conscious effort to take care of my body, something I either avoided or didn't see the importance in for much of my life.

This weekend I needed to fall.

I didn't smoke, mind you, and won't go down that path again--nicoteen is far too powerful an aphrodisiac for me and truth be told, it sings a siren's song of friendship...I could always count on them being there for me when nobody else was and that "dark side" has a powerful pull I will not succumb to again...

I've had quite a bit of pop, stayed up very late thinking and playing video games and watching tv, slept in past noon (something I haven't done in I don't know how long), and have had many thoughts and dreams and nightmares. I have "molted" completely now and am in the frustrating phase of recalibrating myself to new found thoughts, realizations, and emotions.

Have you noticed that in deep and/or spiritual matters teachers often stay away from the negative or, if they do talk about it, speak in a way that separates the negative from their present reality? Negative emotions and experiences are usually regarded in the past tense, as if enlightened beings somehow have this magic that buffers them from these experiences, as if they can be protected from negative by words like "Ohm."

I don't buy it. I read my Bible and I see a Jesus who was filled with both joy and with sorrow, peacefulness in the moment and anger against injustice. When I study Buddha I see a man who was tortured with the mystery behind suffering. The question: "Why must we suffer?!" pushed him towards some kind of deeper englightenment and we, in our ignorance, assume the way he conquered it was to exist outside of it.

It is sad that we take these stories and ignore these people's humanness. Gandhi, Mother Teresa, President Lincoln, all of these people were great but when they got hungry they ate, when they had to go they pissed, and when they saw injustice they acted. And they all suffered.

What makes them different from you? From me?

And so I find myself sometimes putting myself in this box thinking I can't speak of the negative here. The Temple is a place of peace, meditation, introspection, and "bigger" ideas; if I'm to encourage, share, and teach anyone I can't do so bringing up the negative, can I?

I have kept the negative to an absolute minimum. The reason why is fairly simple: for much of my life I would quickly, easily, and honestly, share the most negative of my experiences with others in thought, word, and too often, deed. So for years I have kept myself walking a very strict line, a tight rope of sorts, only hinting at the negative feelings when it was necessary to help a friend understand me or to give others a point of reference, a way we could empathize with each other.

I have realized I no longer need to walk that tight rope. I have found my balance and can speak of the past when it is needed but without more attachment than is necessary. I know why I choose this life, I know how to find my balance, and the past is simply a toolbox of memories and experience that serve to help me fulfill my destiny.

If you were to know your destiny right now would you fight against it or would you follow it?

My best friend, who I love dearly, has often been unsure about her whole reason for being here--as too many are. I never know what to tell her when such conversation comes up, it's one of the few things I simply cannot empathize with others regarding.

But I do know this: when you fight against your whole reason for being here you will bring great unhappiness into your life. When you accept it your life may be filled with challenges, misery, and pain, but you will be able to walk where angels fear to tread.

This is part of my story. It is a story I choose to believe because the experiences, science, and searching I've done over this lifetime has demonstrated it to be accurate.

I remember I used to get into arguments with my best friend about something I now believe with absolute certainty. For a long time she expressed the idea that you attract what you want into your life psychically. I was furious with this! How dare she imply I asked for over a decade of suicidal depression, I didn't want that! I didn't want people treating me like shit and talking behind my back! I wanted support and love and I wanted...I didn't want that.

This universe is, for better or worse, extraordinarily fair and what you ask for and how you ask makes all the difference.

What have I asked for recently?

Wisdom. Strength. Knowledge. A super clear mirror to see myself in. I have received that in a way more profound and difficult than I could have imagined.

I sometimes think I'm dumb to ask for things like that but then I wouldn't be me without asking for a challenge. And so I have allowed myself a couple of days to simply fall and to be compassionate with myself.

Tomorrow I will jog again.

We are an unique species. We have the ability to create stories and do so on stage, in the theatre, and as we have for tens of thousands of years, in song.

A good musician or actor can jump in and out of a role as needed. They understand and accept they're merely telling a part in a story, a story we can experience and empathize with, a story we can in some way make our own. And a story we can all share.

Too often you and I are so deeply mired in our songs and screenplays we forget who we are, why we came here, and how to make the best of this life. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could sit down and finger through the screen play and understand that the role we've created for ourselves is a transitory one, an evolving one, and a useful one.

The ability to choose, that's the whole trick, isn't it?

And so I have two friends now who are living out their stories. One is pregnant and she lives the story of a newer mother with concern and hopes for the future. Another friend is struggling against her past stories, her present one, and trying to figure out who she is going to be in the future. Both stories are good stories. Both stories are filled with suffering and yes, with joy.

How about mine? And yours?

June 1st, 2005

I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. R2 can chirp, follow my orders (except when he gets snooty--seriously, he gets snooty and he shakes his head "NO!"), and chase the cats around with marginal accuracy (and no, they don't know what to make of him), but I thought what the hell and super-glued my webcam to his radar--so don't be surprised if he's stairing at a wall or bookshelf or what not, he does that.

Now to get a wi-fi cam for the little tyke.

I've had a somewhat frustrating day. Work was work and there was much to be done and though I had the headphones going I didn't finish completely by 5:15. Then there was much in the world of parenting that had me pulling my hair out. And so it goes, and so it goes. It is the most difficult thing in the world but it is important even at those times where it feels like one is giving everything and recieving nothing--but then parenting really isn't about what you get out of it, but what you put into it.

Parenting is a reward unto itself. It is a lesson in patience, foresight, restraint, thoughtfulness, love, kindness, fairness, and most of all, humility.

I have much to learn.

While I was jogging today I was thinking there are three types of empaths. There are the first which are "sensitives" or people that are often critisized as being "too sensitive". This is, I believe, the first stage in an empath's psychic development. At some point the sensitive evolves farther and without the proper training, guidance, self-knowledge, and/or will power they become an imprinter, that is, someone capable of becoming what other people want so they can receive what they believe they want. And then there is the road of the true empath, that is, someone who understands and who hopes to share that understanding with others.

I can't wait. In two months I get to learn to ride a motorcycle. My mom, bless her, will be pulling her hair out and my daughter, bless her too, wishes she could take the class (maybe when she's 16!). Then I suppose all I have to do is fulfill my karma, help others free theirs if they are willing and couragous, and garden while I wait to go home before coming back again.

It's amazing how much you can see when you calm your spirit.