October 26th, 2005

I can't remember what I meant to write about tonight but I'm sure of one thing, I'm 24 hours ahead of schedule which is okay because I seem to be on Australian time since the 23rd which often happens as I get closer and closer to my birthday and wondering what absolutely wonderful thing will happen to me this year!

For those of you that don't know I have a birthday curse. For some damnable unknown reason every year within a week or two of my birthday something terrible, horrible, something that would push most people over the edge, happens. I've tried having a positive attitude, I've tried planning something fun, but something always happens so even this year I ask myself what might possibly happen, something always does, something always will, that's simply the nature of things.

I can hope this year it will be something wonderful.

In preparation for something wonderful I'd like to talk about sorrow. This year I've felt a lot of sorrow. I miss my cigarettes, I miss my soda pop, I miss spending all of my free time vegin' or avoidin', I miss knowing what it's like to be in a relationship, I miss having friends, I miss so much... And I feel sorrow for many of the choices I've made and things I've put others through.

I feel joy as well. I feel joy that I haven't simply swept the sorrow and my decisions under the carpet, I feel joy that I've learned so much and maybe some day I'll figure out how to teach others. And I feel joy that through it all I have a lot of good memories too like this one, a picture I created almost ten years ago.

It would have once greeted you on entering The Temple.

Merry part,

October 25th, 2005

Days like today I'm ready to throw in the towel, sell my house, and buy a cabin retreat somewhere up in rural British Columbia. I know much of that is simply a reflection of my emotional state today which has steadily deteriorated due to perceptions of external factors I'm all too aware of but there always has been and always will be a part of me that awaits the day where I can live simply out in nature.

I must have shed a hundred skins this year, one after another after another. Sometimes I think I'd get used to it but then I find the latest shedding is even harder than the last one and the one before it and the one before it. The rewards, do they even exist? Yes, but they've been slow in coming only barely hinting at themselves. For now it's growing pains and some days it's more like withdrawal, withdrawl from a dream, from a hope, from a life I once touched but never had. Escape would be so welcome but there is no escape when sleeping or waking some eyes cannot be closed once they are open.

And so on days like today I can't help be frustrated with the "state" of things. Has America lost its way? Or maybe we started with one that doesn't quite match what we say it was. Pilgrims came here for religious freedom only to take it away from those dirty Native Americans and those nasty "witches" and even now, with religious protection, a "separation" of Church and State, "God" and many of the values of certain Christian segments are time and time again legislated on our lives, our bodies, and our minds.

In Cananda there's conversation, cooperation, and discussion. It's called a Democracy and it listens. Here if you don't agree you'll get typecast and we've polarized ourselves into emotionally pious factions. Instead of looking at all sides of an issue and finding reasonable solutions that make sense and work for all we push and push, lets do it my way, do it my way, I'm not listening to you, you don't know what you're talking about you tree huggin' hippie.

Yeah, I listened to Rush for awhile. I wanted to hear what he had to say. And I've listened to Air America. I wanted to hear what they had to say. Here's what both stations sound like to an empathic's ear: "Hey there, I'm right and here's why I'm right and I shouldn't have to explain myself because any intelligent person with the facts should be able to work it out and if you have half a brain you'll agree with me. If you cross this line, though, you're on their side and they're a bunch of corrupt water bags. Do you want to be a water bag?"

And so on, and so on.

So we progress. We build more roads but we don't pay for them in ways that make sense. We build more homes but we don't care for them and when they fall apart we give them to the less fortunate so we can have newer homes. We ignore the oil leaking from our car and forget that there are twenty million other cars here leaking on the roads and the rain comes and it smells so good and the plants and fish choke on the water. And we ignore exponential curves, 5,236,631 Americans in 1800 and 295,734,134 today and in 2200--oh there will still be forests but who will be allowed to visit them? And if population's a problem who care's about oil in the water, I mean, it's a great way to force evolution upon the species and war is another great way and we're great at that! Every 20 years we start one, even if it's not ethical to do so--our history is bloody and violent and with very few exceptions our wars have been about power and control and money and greed and ignorance. We say we're all about "The American Way" but the more I hear that phrase the more it seems the truest definition is, "We've all got these great freedoms and we can all respect each other and live together...as long as you don't live too differently than I!"

I'm ranting and I apologize. A great deal of the energy in this country aggrevates my six senses in ways I can hardly describe. I saw 2000 to 2005 in my mind's eye and I see 2005 to 2010 and though there are some improvements, especially in terms of international humanitarian efforts, America has some difficult, difficult, difficult times ahead of it. I'm also extremely upset about the way several people have treated me this year and the last two days I've been angry with my uncle who ignored my grandmother's will giving each of the grandkids a few thousand while keeping $300,000 for himself and next to nothing to my mom (what he did give simply covered some of the funeral costs which my parent's paid out of pocket). I can't even begin to understand the mind of someone who would ignore the wishes of their recently passed mother. I don't believe in "sin" but that, to me, is one of the few. And then there's work work work and I, I want a break, I want a vacation, I want to close my eyes and embrace ignorance but that's so far away in the yesterday not the tomorrow. Tomorrow there's a little more light than there is today. But on a superficial level I don't want that light. I can see better and farther and there is a pretty rocky and fairly steep path ahead of me and I'm tired, I'm so tired, and I want things that I cannot possibly have, things that I dare not wish for.

So much sadness in my heart as I write this, so much fatigue, so much... And then there's just this knowing and trust--and a little anger at that--but that's okay because I know maybe some day I will find that cabin in the mountains and I'll learn how to catch and keep and clean the water and how to garden all year round and how to build and how to take care of animals and my food will be cooked on a wood stove and my spare time will be spent reading books and people will wonder who is that crazy old man in the hills?

And some will say, "Oh him, he's just a crazy old Bodhavista, pay him no mind."

P.S.  This morning Vipasanna wrote to me, "It is so strange to me how injustice upsets you so much."  I honestly believe if injustice doesn't upset you, you're not awake.  Police get off shooting someone who's unarmed and all they need to show is that they had reason to fear the person--but an officer that gets up in the morning and isn't somehow aware of the possibility that their life might be threatened that day should get another line of work just as a motorcyclist who doesn't have a true respect for his bike shouldn't be on the road.  And a guy that reaps $300k off my grandma after mortgaging her home under her dying body--behavior like that has a negative effect on dozens of people and if we were more serious about what is just in our own lives then things like that won't happen as much.  Injustice is more than an emotional frustration, it's unnecessary.  Life is difficult enough without causing or being part of injustice.  Balance the scales where you can then the rest of the stress, the rest of the suffering, that's enough for any one life.

Of course on a deeper level injustice is an illusion.  At the same time, for those living on the physical plane it is a useful concept because when we see it for what it is and call it by it's name we're more likely to find solutions instead of just letting it lie there and mold like an old sandwich pushed farther and farther into the back of a refrigerator.  Of course there's no injustice on a karmic level but if we were meant to live this life on a completely spiritual basis we'd all sit around chanting mantras and no gardening would ever get done.  Get it?

October 24th, 2005

 

I love you but...

Famous last words.  Have you heard them?  Have you been privy to those four words creating a phrase that's emptiness completely engulfs everything that follows?  Family, friend, lover, people we care about and believe care about us but...

...you're too...

...I don't...

...it isn't...but...

...I (don't) think....

...I (don't) feel...

Raise of hands, how many of you have ever heard, "I love you but..."?  Keep your hands up if you enjoyed being told that, if you felt valued when you heard that, if you felt you had any control or if your feelings were being validated. 

Did you feel the love?

"I love you," is one of the most powerful and meaningful phrases in the English language when said with sincerity.  "I love you," stands alone, it needs no explanation and everything before and afterwards is spoken through our actions. Following these words with a conjunction does not add anything to them, it does not explain something, it does not add any depth or information or truth except as a poison that can grow and clings to the heart so that the next time someone says or hints at these things there is only distrust, distrust, distrust, and fear.

I love you but...

It is a a declaration of irresponsibility and dishonesty.  It is an admittance that we'd like to think we're a great and loving and kind soul but when push comes to shove we don't have the time, we don't have the energy, we don't have understanding, we don't have the tolerance...  It is a signpost that we're too uncomfortable with honesty, we can't look in the mirror and admit to ourselves that we're not the awesome person we'd like everyone to believe we are, that we let people down, that we are sometimes self-serving fools who lie to those we "love" to protect something so fragile but valued, a self-image that we must defend by pushing others away when it's easier than truly demonstrating love.  "But..." we say and we get to stay in the green zone  "But..." we argue and things can get back to normal.  "But..." we say and we don't feel too guilty, at least we confronted the other person and projected our weaknesses onto them, that'll do, lets "move on" now.

Love or control?

I have said those words before and I am ashamed.  I used to write elaborate explanations for my behavior, I used to rationalize it to myself. "Well, at least I'm confronting the person," I used to say thinking that I was helping people understand my point of view when they were seeing that I was being selfish and there was emptiness behind my words.

This painting, Accolade by E. Blair Leighton, hangs in my living room.  It reminds me that there are no "buts" for true hearts and minds.  Get down on your knees, bow down, speak the truth, that's it.  Say the words in your heart then shut your mouth, if you are true then your actions will be in balance with your words.  If you love then love.  If you care then you will care.  If you are selfless then you will be selfless.

Ye will be known by thy actions.  And...

When your words lack sincerity others will be poisoned by them.  They will not trust you and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps by this distrust upon their hearts which grows only as a cancer every time it is repeated upon them until one day they are hard and difficult to find deep within that gilded cage we choose to call "experience".  Do not blind yourself, this is a curse you impose, a dark spell who's magic and karma last for years and decades and centuries.  Do you understand?

When your words lack sincerity you poison yourself.  By protecting yourself from other people's views you step into a magical castle where all the mirrors reflect the image you want to see, not the image others see of you.  By building walls of protection you are creating a superficial wall of ideas and perceptions about self that can easily be destroyed and your only protection is to push, push, push, push, true allies away and live out a fantasy and why not?  Deep inside that emotional cage you've got high speed internet access and can connect with the outside world so the fantasy must be truth and you're in touch and you're not afraid except you're living behind walls of "buts".  Do you understand?

Toss them away, throw them away, recycle them.  Get down on your knees, close your eyes, and promise yourself that the next word to come from your lips will rings true to yourself and to others, today, tomorrow, and forever.  Throw away the mirrors, the fantasies, the lies, and bow your head in solemn prayer.  Live a life that is in every moment true and lasting.

Or do not.

October 21st, 2005

When I was unemployed I got up early in the mornings when the ground was frosted over and fog hugged the ground outside the apartments.  I would toss on a pair of blue jeans, shirt, and boots, then walk my daughter, only six then and in first grade, out to the bus stop by the 7-11 across from Thriftway and my favourite close-to-home dive, Scotty's.  We'd stand there for five to ten minutes chatting, me groggily, her overly excited to get back to school and learning and her fellow rascals, and watching our breath turn into steam.

After she had been safely delivered to the bus driver I headed back to the apartment, upstairs, stripped down, and took the longest, warmest shower I could manage after which I'd go downstairs and sit at the desk, turn the TV on, light a cigarette, and begin the next round of figurative "hitting the pavement".  And though there wasn't much chance getting work after the dot com bubble burst and the twin towers fell I had to find something or it was adios apartment.  And I was pretty good at looking.  I had dozens and dozens of links to different companies all over the Portland area and would check at least once a day to see if there were any openings.  Yes?  Off goes the resume.  Then I'd search the big job sites at the time like Monster.com, etc. and send off resumes.  The minimum was three resumes a day, every e-mail and correspondence tracked, and if I didn't send out three by noon I'd search and search until I found more companies in the area then I'd link, send, and track.

Then light another one or two or three cigarettes in a row while downing my breakfast which was typically in the form of a Super Big Gulp.

I'd spend the afternoon relaxing.  I'd watch tele or read a book or play Diablo II or go for a walk or jog or sit on the back porch staring at the 10x10 "lawn" and that squirrel that would come out to cuss out anyone anywhere near his trees.  There wasn't much else to do.  I only had one friend around and she was either sleeping or working and I'd done as much if/not more job hunting that one human being can do in a day and even then I'd only gotten three interviews in a year (one of which lead to a follow up then nothing, the other of which lead to a temporary job for a few months, and the last of which got me my current position). 

Finally the afternoon would come and I'd go out to the bus stop and wait and there'd be my daughter after a day at school and she'd ask to ride my bike and some days I'd say yes and some days I'd say no then we'd go down the slight hill to the apartments and inside and we'd do math on the white board for fifteen or twenty minutes.  I'd written a little program (you can find it here in The Temple) to test her addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, but I wanted to teach her to think!  So each day I'd teach her a concept.  This is a fraction, I'd say, and here are some pictures to demonstrate what it represents.  Okay, here's a bunch of numbers and we want to add them to a bunch of other numbers, lets make them HUGE numbers that would boggle a high school student and play with them!  And though she was often a little frustrated that it wasn't nearly as straight forward as the stuff in 1st grade she was more than capable of understanding the problems and she started to see that mathematics is about ideas, not writ and repetition.

Unfortunately once I found employment I haven't been able to put aside large portions of my day to focus on augmenting her schooling and that's been even more difficult after I've become a homeowner with all the rights and responsibilities therein.  Sure, if I won the lottery that's one of the first things I'd do is put aside a large chunk of time for home schooling in the evenings to insure that she understood the things she was being taught at school well enough to explain and teach to other people (which is the true test of any knowledge).  But for better or worse I have a (often more than) full time job and I have responsibilities and I have only so much energy so when push comes to shove I spend my time teaching my daughter about honesty and fairness and listening and thinking and responsibility and about working hard and honor and all the things I write about in The Temple.  Sure, I'd love her to be a mathematical genius, a Shakespeare, an inventor, and a star athlete--but there are more important things to learn first.

Thanks to the "No Rich Child Left Behind" act the carpet is being ripped from underneath public schools.  So my daughter's fifth grade teacher, a man who is dedicated and truly loves the children who enter his classroom, has started an advanced math course which he teaches (for no extra pay, of course) an hour early on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.  So guess who's job it is to get up an hour and a half earlier than normal and drive his daughter to school while it's still pitch dark out? 

The important question is:  is it worth it?

Duh (Aslynn grumbles).

Last night she and I sat in my room going over some of her advanced math on my computer monitor with a dry erase marker (I'm a bit eccentric in that I'm constantly writing on computer monitors with a dry erase marker--a bit of old school manual w/ new school digital, it's all good in my opinion).  So we're doing these problems and breaking them down into smaller pieces and I'm showing her how to think a bit more abstractly (because there were 23 incorrect solutions and only 1 correct solution to every problem we were looking at) and she said, "Dad, I wish we could do math every day just like when I was in first grade."

And so I stopped our lesson for a brief moment and talked with her about balance.

Did you hear, this Wednesday they drew the Powerball numbers and someone in Oregon won a few hundred million!  Maybe they'll get to take some time off and teach their sons or daughters a little bit of advanced mathematics.  And did you hear, there was a 16 car collision on I-5 this morning just north of Salem.  The man who won the millions is lucky, isn't he, and the people that were in the wreck had it bad, didn't they?

That's not how karma works, do you understand?  Balance is an intricate creature and few even have an inkling about how it works.  We'd rather tell it how it should work and live our lives according to this superficial idea because that feels safer than learning about balance and becoming masters of it.

Did you know a significant proportion of lottery winners undergo massive social losses, depression, and bankruptcy?  What does that say of the balance of the winner, of their family, friends, neighbors, and professional associates?  Good karma can easily twist into "bad" karma when balance is lacking.  That's how hurricanes and tornados start.  That's how wars start.  That's how relationships start and end.

Get it?

And maybe someone in the wreck on I-5 will realize that what's important isn't their fancy Porsche that got rear ended but the quality of their relationship with their family.  And maybe someone who quit smoking will use it as an excuse to begin smoking again.  And maybe someone couldn't get through the traffic so they turned back, went home, called in to work and said they couldn't make it, and while spending the afternoon gardening became enlightened.

We're all in the same exact boat.  Do you understand?  We all start out in the same place, now, we all have the same resources, now, and we all have the choice to be balanced or imbalanced.

Do something with that.

October 18th, 2005

 

I have, for most of my life, suffered from insomnia.  A lot of people think oh yeah, that just means you have a hard time getting to sleep from time to time.  I wish it were that easy.  The fact is, frequent insomnia is not something one deals with once a month or a week, it's dealt with on a nightly (and daily) basis and impacts all facets of life.  Give me a rash on my ass or random migraines, these pale in comparison to insomnia.

When I get into bed at night I don't know whether I'll be able to get to sleep in twenty minutes or in two hours.  The average now is about thirty minutes--and this has come down from an average of one to one and a half hours.  Much of this is in large part due to a healthier lifestyle.  I stopped smoking (something I'd do with a passion until the early hours of the morning) and lowered my consumption of pop to the weekends (if at all) and caffeine to the mornings (if at all).  Water throughout the day.  Yogurt in the morning, fruit at lunch, meal in the evening often after my two mile jog.  That said, I still experience insomnia.  Go to bed earlier, you say, get your body on a schedule, you say.  Well, I hate to put this to you but studies have shown the circadian rhythm of the human body naturally wants to have a 25+ hour day, not a 24 hour day, and an insomniac's body is especially sensitive to this subconscious biological belief that the planet is revolving a little too damn fast.

And get over this notion that it's just struggling to fall asleep!!!!  Yes, it's hell laying there some nights, you crawl into bed an hour early in order to get on a more 'normal' sleep cycle, meditate, relax your muscles, and spend the next four hours feeling only slightly sleepy--but it's not just something that effects your sleep (or attempts at sleep).  In the morning you have to fight to get out of bed when the alarm goes off--and forget having it within arms length, it had better be across the room or you'll turn it off in your sleep and wake up late for work (learned this lesson the hard way).  Even with the alarm at peak volume I've been known to sleep through it (while waking up the rest of the neighborhood) and then after getting up I have 15 minutes to get showered, dressed, brushed up, and rush into work.  Thank the goddess I live only a few miles away!  Next it's coffee and lots of coffee.  Gotta wake up!  Then you can't have too much coffee anymore, you're being healthy, and it's a no caffeine policy for the afternoons so that's when you're bound to get drowsy and work has the potential to drag out into an all out hellish fight to stay interested and focused (which is absolutely necessary for my job).   Day after day of this, no knowing when you'll be able to fall asleep, when you'll be able to wake up, daily fatigue, difficulty staying focused, headaches, and so on.  You're more susceptible to getting sick and catching the thousand flu strains your kid brings from school.  Day after day after day after day.  You get hooked on sleeping pills and these screw up your digestion and make you groggier in the morning but a little grogginess easily cured by coffee is better than getting almost no sleep which leads to a state of fatigue so deep that it is only exacerbated by coffee.  Day after day after day.

Insomnia effects your job.  Insomnia effects your moods.  Insomnia effects your friendships and your relationships.  There isn't a damn thing insomnia doesn't effect.  And almost nobody understands or has much sympathy for people experiencing insomnia.  Late for a meeting?  Be professional and get up on time!  Partner tossing and turning in bed?  Go sleep on the couch!  Can't sleep?  Take sleeping pills!  Groggy during the day?  Drink some coffee!  Too worn out to go out?  Fine, didn't want to go with you anyway! 

I envy people who can go to bed at the same time every night and wake up every night.  I ENVY people who can curl up under the sheets and be sleeping in fifteen minutes.  I would pay thousands of dollars to experience that most nights!  Consistent, reliable sleep is something most people simply take for granted.

I've come a long way over the last two years and almost (knock on wood) have a 'normal' sleeping pattern.  Yeah, I use sleeping aids from time to time, yeah, I spend a few nights out of every week unable to get to sleep within an hour, but I'm getting there.  So why share?

Explicit Intent.

Stay tuned,

October 17th, 2005

 

You were thinking about me last Friday.  I saw your face as if you were almost able to finally see me, that you missed me yet had so many questions.  You were looking for answers and were asking me without asking me but I saw you there gazing, wondering, questioning, do I, should I, can I, why am I?  I have some of the answers when you are ready to know but to know is to trust and to trust is to be vulnerable to something powerful, maybe even more powerful than yourself you sometimes think. You are strong, when you are in your silence you know this.  The answers are there too, down deep inside your heart underneath the illusions.  I have no advice, you are on the right path.

October 14th, 2005

 

This morning after my shower I walked into my closet and stood there naked gazing out the window.  This is what I call Caveman Weather Reports.  As my ancestors I stand there stark naked at my cave entrance contemplating my day of hunting and gathering as I wonder whether or not I should wear the light rabbit skin or the heavy bear skin or simply run off towards the plateau in my skivvies.  Today, though, I opted for black jeans and a black turtleneck.

My concern, though, wasn't about temperature or sun or rain, my thoughts were on the fog which engulfed the entire neighborhood.  Two days ago I went out in the fog thinking okay, ride the moto slow, make sure your high beams or on, take intersections carefully.  But fog is DANGEROUS on a motorcycle!!!  It's not about visibility as in how far one can see in the fog or being visible to others it's about VISIBILITY, i.e. being able to see through a fog frosted over face plate that's fogged up on the inside (and then when opening the helmet the same happens with one's glasses--and anyone with half a brain is going to be wearing some kind of eye protection!). 

Visibility of two inches is not good!

So I'm standing there (did I mention I was naked?) looking out at the fog and thinking damn it, I am not riding through fog again!  But as I got dressed I saw that this was just another opportunity to learn and become more proficient at something by challenging myself and feeling a little uncomfortable in the process (story of my life and esp. of 2005, more on that later).  So I put my gear on and grabbed the rain proof gloves, you know, the ones with the window squeegee on the outside of the left thumb, and went outside.  Visibility was between 50 to 100 feet and as soon as I was doing 35mph I used the squeegee which worked okay but wasn't as good as say a WINDSHIELD WIPER.  So I kept it slow and opened the face plate as I came to intersections to keep the inside from fogging up (natural effect of being at a stop while breathing warm, humid air into the helmet--especially on a cold day).  And other than one tailgater the ride was great!

I love riding in crappy weather.  I love every opportunity to learn, grow, and adapt that motorcycling has presented me with.

Toastmasters is the same way.  Yesterday I gave my fourth (or fifth?) speech and this one was meant to focus on body language, not content.

Out of the ten initial speeches in the Toastmaster's manual this one intimidated me most.  I'm not and really have never been an animate person--I've always loved to watch people.  In the past when I've spoken to an audience I have stood very still and had a physically monotonous speaking style.  Over the last three or four years I've expanded and use my hands quite a bit when speaking to people.  Still, moving my body around, making people visualize with my body instead of my words and my voice--that's hard for me!  I did it and you know, it was much easier than I thought.  By deciding upon the actions it helped me remember the flow of the speech and kept people entertained.  The words simply flowed in to and out of the actions one after another like breathing in and out, in and out.  I will most assuredly continue and expand upon my skills in this area.

When I was evaluated I was told that I didn't move too far away from the lectern although some aspects of the speech called for it (far away = 5+ feet).  I realized that when I speak to a group of people my body language, in general, is "vertical" in nature.  That is, I'm more likely to stay in one general area but that area extends towards and away from my audience.  You could say it's a very direct body language style.  One thing I can do to improve my communication skills is work on a horizontal style which will be less confrontational, at least on a subconscious level.

Always something new to learn on a bike.  Always something new to learn at Toastmasters.  Always something new to learn in life.

Stretch,

October 13th, 2005

freak·con·cep·tion n. 

An opinion or conception formed in advance of adequate knowledge or experience typically demonstrating our freakin' bizarre notions about reality.

October 11th, 2005

Sometimes when I find myself at The Temple I find that I'm feeling rather blue and I ask myself what I should write or indeed if I should just keep my mouth shut.  Spirituality and personal growth is all supposed to be positive and cheery, right? 

For those of you that know me well you know I believe that running away from something is nothing short of cowardice.  We learn by doing, by experiencing, by realizing, and by being honest with ourselves and with others.  Spiritual warriors don't fear anger or loneliness or fatigue or insecurity or any other experience we choose to label as being "good" or "bad".  Instead we see them as experiences, learning opportunities, changes to see and taste and smell an aspect of existence we did not know before, a chance to become something deeper and more incredible than we were before--while seeing we were that wonderful thing all along.

Yet I must admit it is hard at times.  Many years ago I used my word as a microphone and a device to get what I wanted (give me, give me, give me) because I was afraid of things like loneliness so now when I'm feeling blue, as everyone does from time to time, I, like a good actor, have to ask myself, "What is my motivation?"  And truth be told I want to write for three reasons.  First, to continually improve my ability to communicate with others.  Second, to give myself a creative outlet.  Three, to share what I've learned with those who desire to share these moments with me.  When I see there's something else prompting me to write I stop and ask myself why I'm feeling that way and look deeper and deeper and go for a walk or a drive or a ride or a jog or a nap and when I come back I find the truth underneath which I try to share with you.

There are times when I can hear all those people from my past criticizing me.  "You think too much," I can hear them say, "Stop worrying about everyone else and think about yourself for a change!"  At the same time I have to ask what kind of life would I rather live, one where my choices are dictated by reactionary habit, behavior, and instinct or one where every thought and action is more and more conscious, where my choices are self-directed?

I choose conscious self actualization.

And what grand assumption that I'm thinking too much of you or I'm thinking too much about me, what arrogance, what ignorance!  Is it so difficult to ask that person to your left what their true motivation is and trust that the answer they have to give would be of any merit or is the addictions of stereotyping and assumption what you wish, what you want, what you believe makes you thrive?  Are you so afraid of the things that you've been through that you would trap yourself behind your own stories and lies and delusions and not be open to the ideas and realities others are trying so hard, so hard, to share with you?!

People are trying to connect with you every day.  Do you understand?

Yet I digress again and I want to because I want you to know I am not perfect and I never claim to be perfect!  And I am a psychic empath and that means a lot too but that doesn't mean I'm any more spiritual or wise or "better" or "worse" than anyone else, I'm just this guy, you know, and I can see with a sixth eye but that doesn't mean I have more to say than a blind man. Different yet the same, that's all.  Get it?  I take it one day, one step, one breath at a time (though some days it feels like I'm going up Mt. St. Helens again).  I experience my ups and downs and I look at my life in a way that's rather unique and I see yours too in a way that's unique.  I've got my cup, sometimes it's half empty, sometimes it's half full, you know?  Do you see?  Do you really, really, truly understand?

Or have you passed up another opportunity?  Do you understand?

That's the long and meandering route to go to talk about loneliness, isn't it? 

I don't mind feeling lonely.  I guess you could say I'm used to it.  I grew up in the country, five miles from quote-unquote civilization so besides my little brother who I, being the older brother, perceived as a perpetual thorn in my side, I rarely had other kids my age to spend time with.  Growing up in a cowboy town with two teachers who were parents and encouraged art, music, and education--well, it didn't earn me too many points at school.  Neither did allergies, wearing hand me downs, or being a sci-fi junkie.  So I accepted people into my life who would accept me irregardless of how they treated me (which is another story) and as I've come to be a decrepit old and grumpy man/fart I pick and choose who I want in my life.  What is my criteria?  The answers lie in The Temple, my friends, there are no secrets here.

Have you ever noticed that when you share a "negative" emotion people tell you what you "need" to do as if they're not interested in really listening?  "Well you should go meet people," that's what people "suggest" when I tell them I've chosen this loneliness.  They say, "You should have a social life" or "You should get a girlfriend" or most recently (and lovingly/jokingly) "You should become gay" and I ask one simple question, "Why?"  Do I need to have a bunch of friends?  Do I need to have this strange illusive abstraction we call a "social life"?  Do I need a girlfriend?  Or is it enough that I give all my love to those who accept it, cherish it, and on occasion return it?

It may be the path less taken but it is good enough.   I don't need to be good looking or smart or popular, I don't need to play games or hedge or create alternate universes for my pawns to be confined within.  True, there are no fixes when I'm feeling down or lonely, there's just down, lonely, go read a book Aslynn and find new ways to experience this so called life thing--but there's no being more lonely than I need to be, no endless searching for that something to fill the hole because sometimes a hole's meant to be there for a reason.

A spiritual warrior understands this.

And you know what, it keeps me on the straight and narrow.  Our culture has lost this somehow.  We're always looking for something better, a new cell phone plan, a faster computer, a nicer car.  We're lost and meandering from social group to social group, friend to friend, job to job, partner to partner.  Guess you could call me a spoil sport but I see the only reason to wander to be for the experience and that none should be hurt or taken advantage of in any way during this journey.

Where do you find yourself in all of this?

I choose loneliness. 

I choose it because the reasons I choose this life, reasons I have so often ignored, are more important than feeling loved or desirable.

It is a choice.

 
It is an experience.

It is my path.

So tell me, then, what makes a diamond?

October 10th, 2005

A few years back a friend of mine asked if I'd like to go hike up Mt. St. Helens and I said yeah, sure.  I'd never done anything like that and it would be fun, new, and I was just learning to be unafraid of doing fun and new things without allowing nervousness or "staying in the box" mentality to get in the way.  And so he picked me up one afternoon and we drove up to Washington, got a little lost, then found our way up to the base of the mountain and set up camp for the evening.

The next day was more than I had bargained for.  We hiked about ten miles up some mellow trails at a very brisk speed using hiking poles, a pair of which he was kind enough to provide me.  This was more than I'd ever hiked in one shot in my entire life and given my limited experience and the rather abused condition of my body at that point in my life I would have been quite satisfied to sit down, eat my packed lunch, and call it a day.

That was when we got to the "real" base of the mountain, a rocky, jagged exterior going up, up, up into fog-filled the sky.  And so we hiked along some crooked meandering trails following wooden markers the entire way.  We were in a line of a few dozen hikers who, like us, were keen to get to the top of the mountain by midday.  Hour after hour we hiked then climbed back and forth as ground conditions dictated.  I must have used every muscle in my body and would have even used my tongue and eyelids if they would have helped.

A few hundred feet from the summit I found I couldn't go any further...literally I had no choice, my body was done.  It took all my energy just to move one foot and I'd be on all fours to boot.  I took five or six minutes to rest but as soon as I stood up I found I could barely get five or six more feet before quickly falling down again.  I felt somewhat defeated but I looked up at the summit and thought it was okay.  I didn't get to hike that often, much less taking on a mountain.  And frankly I'd spent the previous two years smoking like a chimney, drinking gallons of soda pop as a replacement for a solid diet, and drank a little too much whiskey from time to time as a substitute for the friendship, companionship, and love I longed for.  So I sat there undefeated, lit a cigarette, and enjoyed the view.

The next three or four days I could barely move and would not, if I could help it, do much besides lift and depress a finger on the tele remote.  Every muscle in body body had cramped up into knots.  I lived in a two story townhouse apartment and found I was literally confined to the downstairs area unless I had the courage to crawl up the stairs and accept the agony as the muscles in my body screamed and threatened to tear away from my bones--and they and my skin and my tendons and my intestines and my brain hurt so I fasted for two days for fear of having to climb once again that great many steps to the bathroom.

Since then a lot has happened in my life.  I don't drink that often and when I do it's usually a few glasses of wine or a couple beers.  I don't smoke (although I'd be lying if I didn't admit the temptation isn't sometimes there) and I get a fair amount of exercise.  Though I still enjoy soda and junk food from time to time I eat much healthier by and large.  During the workdays my breakfast/lunch consists of yogurt, V8, water, and an apple and/or banana.  Dinner could be anything from stir fry to salad to what have you.  And every two nights or so I do my two mile run/walk while listening to National Public Radio.

But I am getting old and my body won't let me forget the karmic wounds I've inflicted upon myself (or others).

Where do I start that tale?  How about too much smoking, too much coffee, and too much Jack Daniels.  Can you say acid reflux?  That left my throat sore for almost a year and my bumbling doctor made wonderfully inaccurate guesses time after time and when I explored every avenue and said, "I've stopped smoking and my diet's much better and I'm getting regular exercise" his response was, "Life's just not fair, is it?" then proceeded to write me a prescription for yet another of his voodoo remedies.  So needless to say I got another doctor who diagnosed me correctly the first time and with his help I've started to feel much better (although there is still much healing to do). 

And then there's this pudgy belly that I started developing around 25 and though I am nowhere near the weight of so many in our culture the few extra pounds I do have are extraordinarily uncomfortable, just something about my body doesn't like to be above 150lbs.  And of course there's the social stigma when you don't have a six pack for a stomach and then memories of someone who made me feel I wasn't lovable because I wasn't flat as a board anymore so it's sit-ups when I can stomach it (pun only partially intended) but it seems in my age my body has decided that at least for now this gut is an old friend that's going to stay around until I get a membership at 24 Hour Fitness and I wonder somewhere in the areas deep down in my subconscious if someone would love me anyway.

And of course the eye sight goes a little so now I must wear glasses when I drive (especially on the hooligan) and the hair falls out a little at a time and I decide to grow it out long again because some day I will look much like Patrick Stewart (which isn't exactly a bad thing, mind you) and don't want to be a bald guy with a pony tail (although given what strange twists and turns my life takes I will be an old bald guy with a pony tail).  Of course it probably doesn't help that I love to play with my hair almost non-stop--but then until someone else lends me their head it's the one eccentric habit I'll choose to stick with my entire life.

Then of course there's my left hand.  Have I shared the story of my left hand?  I think I damaged a nerve in my thumb during the Team Oregon motorcycle training and for awhile there I had little strength applying pressure with it.  That was a little frustrating at times, my hand would feel normal then I'd go to clip the fingernails on my right hand and my left thumb wouldn't have any strength to depress the clippers so I'd grab them clumsily in my hand thinking just how nice it is to have an opposable thumb (that works).  That has healed, for the most part, but my pinkie on that same hand cramps up and is double jointed every morning and my other fingers somehow take that queue and cramp up so I more or less spend the first five minutes every morning popping the joints in my left hand and flexing until it feels normal--until the next day, of course.  The result of a stiff clutch on the hooligan, yes.  And also a stern reminder that overall I am blessed and in good health and that every day I should learn more ways to take care of my body, mind, and spirit.

I don't really know how to conclude this monologue regarding my health.  I don't even know if I can really describe why I try to improve my health when it would be so much easier to spend my spare moments smoking one warm cigarette after another out on the deck or in the hot tub.  I think sometimes it's because I want to smell nice and have that six pack and be sexy and attractive but no, that's not really it; though I want to have a partner as much as the next fella I'm content living in the moment and giving everything I have to give to those few around me who want it.  It's not so I can brag and say hey, I jog and I eat organic vegetables., etc., etc., etc.--when I make those choices I make them for the sanctity of my own heart and spirit.  And it's not so I can live to be an old age because I know why I came here to this world and when my job's over I'm taking the A-Train outa town and preparing for the next adventure--so no worries in that area.  Last but not least I can't say I do all these things because not doing them is somehow "bad".  Smoking or non-smoking, both are choices and experiences which I have lived and I have learned a great deal from both. And so it goes and the women come and go speaking of Michaelangelo.

What it all comes down to is preparation.  I'm getting ready for something and I just don't know what that something is yet. Sometimes I grumble and wish I had a more specific job description but sometimes that's just how it is.

October 7th, 2005

Believe what you want to believe, you're going to anyway. Do you really expect me to stand here and argue with you until I'm blue in the face when you know and I know that you know what you know and that's all there is to it? I already know that! We've done that.

The world is a pretty big place, there's isn't enough time to really know everything so it's simply easier to make assumptions and besides, why challenge your sense of self? Get in the boat and row, I say, going with the current is far more easy than striking up against even if there's something terribly interesting on that distant shore.

So I'm not going to sit here and argue, did that, done that, done with it. Now I'm going to learn how to paint. Would you like to watch? You're free to of course. And yes, I know, you're probably going to stand there either silently or you're going to grumble out criticisms or you're going to lavish me with compliments and you know what?

I'm going to keep painting until I'm done.