So proud of my country today. We are one step closer to becoming that nation we always believe ourselves to be. It's a good feeling.
And it's a strange feeling. I'm suddenly all-too aware today of how rare a moment like this is. The good guys won. People's inherent humanity has been recognized, and enshrined into our law. The evil has been banished from the land. It feels like it should ALWAYS be like this. But it almost never is.
Sorry to be so melancholy about it. I'm really ecstatic, truly. Just wish we could feel this more often.
We are a better nation now - a better people - than we were yesterday.
Here is hoping, sincerely, profoundly, that the trend continues.
#LoveWins
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Friday, June 26, 2015
Thursday, September 11, 2014
We Become Merlin, Lord Of The Geeks...
the Man is no longer a Man
in this day and age
he is a strange Middle-Aged Boy
an Aging Adolescent
hair going grey
with the hours whittled away
on Xbox video games
the Man that is a Man
is of a bygone age
The Real Man in the films of old
Age-ed Anachronism
strong and proud and brave
standing tall to face the day
and keep the wolves at bay
that I am a Man-who-is-not-a-Man
a product of this modern age
has vexed my Heart and Soul
my Arrested Ascension
how can I always play
when a Real Man works all day
but really who's to say?
the Boy is also a Man
in our culture at this stage
in truth both young and old
Advancing Adolescence
we get to play our lives away
yet still have bills to pay
the balance of the middle way
I am a Boy and I am a Man
by internal and external age
work only to play is my road
an Admirable Aspiration
that I get to live My Way
a little boyhood every day
is the great gift of this age
Fuck it
I'll be okay
Thursday, June 12, 2014
I Have Sowed Need, And What Then I Reaped...
i was so afraid
so afraid of
not needing you
so unaware
that i was
loving from fear
so confused
thinking love
demanded need
too oblivious
to see
my desire
pulling you under
as soon as i
gave up
gave in
let go
stopped
needing you
i was suddenly
Free
finally free to
see you
hear you
know you
your real you
because you
were finally free
of my weight
of my need
what i needed
what i really needed
after all and everything
is over and done
was to get out of the fucking way
and just be me
and let you be you
so we could meet each other
again
and fall
for the first time
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Three-hundred Fifty-one...
Only two weeks left.
Two weeks from today, I will drink a beer. A Guinness. In a bottle. And then I will have a glass of whiskey. Eagle Rare bourbon, my favorite. On the rocks, in my favorite glass tumbler. And who knows what else after that.
I can't tell what I'm feeling. Something like excitement, but not quite. Almost anxiety, but not exactly. Anticipation? Fear? Some jumbled soup of them all, most likely.
I want it so badly. I've never wanted a drink this much in my entire life. I want a drink right now more than I ever, ever wanted a drink when I actually was drinking.
I feel so proud of myself for actually accomplishing this.
I feel guilty for feeling this way, and I try to suppress it, reminding myself that I haven't actually accomplished anything yet. I have two weeks left to go. I can feel proud then. And celebrate with a drink.
I'm so scared that something bad is going to happen. That I'm going to go off the deep end and lose control in some way that I never have before. That I'm going to end up in another of those deep chemical depressions. That I'm going to lose all of my creativity and desire to express myself. That I'm going to lose the ability to write poetry. Or worse, that I'm going to lose the ability to enjoy writing. I'm scared of some other bad result that I haven't even thought of.
I'm scared of the fact that I don't know what's going to happen.
But I have to find out.
I have to know if I can handle it or not.
I have to find out how else the last year has changed me.
Two weeks from today, I will drink a beer. A Guinness. In a bottle. And then I will have a glass of whiskey. Eagle Rare bourbon, my favorite. On the rocks, in my favorite glass tumbler. And who knows what else after that.
I can't tell what I'm feeling. Something like excitement, but not quite. Almost anxiety, but not exactly. Anticipation? Fear? Some jumbled soup of them all, most likely.
I want it so badly. I've never wanted a drink this much in my entire life. I want a drink right now more than I ever, ever wanted a drink when I actually was drinking.
I feel so proud of myself for actually accomplishing this.
I feel guilty for feeling this way, and I try to suppress it, reminding myself that I haven't actually accomplished anything yet. I have two weeks left to go. I can feel proud then. And celebrate with a drink.
I'm so scared that something bad is going to happen. That I'm going to go off the deep end and lose control in some way that I never have before. That I'm going to end up in another of those deep chemical depressions. That I'm going to lose all of my creativity and desire to express myself. That I'm going to lose the ability to write poetry. Or worse, that I'm going to lose the ability to enjoy writing. I'm scared of some other bad result that I haven't even thought of.
I'm scared of the fact that I don't know what's going to happen.
But I have to find out.
I have to know if I can handle it or not.
I have to find out how else the last year has changed me.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Discipline?...
My friend commended me on my self-discipline last night.
And I told her, "I don't feel like I have any discipline. I just have a really deep bag of tricks."
To my mind, "self-discipline" implies some sort of forceful inner strength, which I don't feel I have. (Though, a lot of what I'm working on with my Self right now is related to trying to learn it.) And, regardless, even if I do have it, it's not what I generally use to change or better myself.
I'm not strong that way. I'm slippery.
I don't just force myself to move forward with the things I know I should do instead of the things I want to do. Instead, I figure out how to perceive the situation so that I end up wanting to do the thing I know I should do.
I don't make myself do things I don't like; I figure out how to perceive them so that I do like them.
I think an ounce of cunning is worth a metric ton of force.
And I told her, "I don't feel like I have any discipline. I just have a really deep bag of tricks."
To my mind, "self-discipline" implies some sort of forceful inner strength, which I don't feel I have. (Though, a lot of what I'm working on with my Self right now is related to trying to learn it.) And, regardless, even if I do have it, it's not what I generally use to change or better myself.
I'm not strong that way. I'm slippery.
I don't just force myself to move forward with the things I know I should do instead of the things I want to do. Instead, I figure out how to perceive the situation so that I end up wanting to do the thing I know I should do.
I don't make myself do things I don't like; I figure out how to perceive them so that I do like them.
I think an ounce of cunning is worth a metric ton of force.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
The Biomathematical Quotient Of One Apple...
Yesterday, I said, "It's amazing how quickly you can fall back out of shape." And today I have to say, what a difference a day makes.
Did the same routine this morning as yesterday. Yesterday I was legitimately concerned that I might die, and today there was no problem at all. My heart-rate stayed right smack in the middle of my butter-zone the entire time (the monitor was actually working today), and I never felt like I was pushing myself excessively. Just felt like a really good workout.
I even went the full twenty minutes this time.
Did the same routine this morning as yesterday. Yesterday I was legitimately concerned that I might die, and today there was no problem at all. My heart-rate stayed right smack in the middle of my butter-zone the entire time (the monitor was actually working today), and I never felt like I was pushing myself excessively. Just felt like a really good workout.
I even went the full twenty minutes this time.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
On Changing The Self...
I wrote this in an email to my little brother yesterday, in response to a comment he made to the effect that planned change isn't a worthwhile avenue to explore for trying to improve oneself, and I thought it could be worth sharing here. (Actually, I'm only posting it because I don't have time to write anything, and it's more meaningful than any here's-what-I-did-today bullshit I could come up with on the spur of the moment.)
I have to disagree with you a bit here. Yes, change happens whether we plan for it or not, but that doesn't mean that one can't make it happen at will, as well.
In order to learn how to make changes in the world we perceive as outside of ourselves, one has to be able to change oneself, first. I've spent years studying the forces of change (chaos) specifically in order to do this. It's not all black robes and binding demons. In fact, it's mostly not that kind of typical occult-y stuff. More than 90% of it is simply learning how to examine oneself critically and objectively (but safely, without letting it damage your ego), and then applying various techniques to try to change your habits, personality traits, mannerisms, beliefs, desires, etc. from what they are, into what you want them to be.
I've spent countless thousands of hours of my life doing that. Overcoming a drug addiction did not happen by chance. It happened because I tried and tried and tried, over and over and over again, constantly, for years, to make it happen. And I've done the same thing with many other major areas of my Self (becoming less co-dependent with Ingrid is a good example), and even more minor aspects (making myself become less anal-retentive about the way I eat my food, about the way I clean things, and about the way I look; changing the way I react to driving; changing the way I perceive working out, so that I enjoy it and look forward to it, rather than seeing it as hard work or a chore; etc.)
If you take a passive role in your own life, you will forever be disappointed.
Yes, change will happen whether you want it to or not, and you need to be able to adapt to those unexpected situations when they arise. No doubt about that. But the best way to be prepared to deal with those sudden left-turns that life inevitably throws at you, is to manufacture change in your own life, over and over and over again.
Make a habit of trying to change yourself. Practice it. Get good at it. Start with little things, and work your way up (the same techniques apply, but little things are easier to change). Got any little annoying habits you'd like to change? Try it. See if you can do it. Then try another one.
Then, when big Change happens, and life throws you a curveball, you'll have a good idea of how to respond. You'll be prepared by your past experience.
You'll be able to roll with it, and go with the flow.
+ + +
Here's a neat little self-change exercise I learned when I first started studying Chaos Magick Theory. Get a d6 (or a d8, or whatever size die you want), and assign a different philosophy/belief system to each side (e.g., 1=xtian, 2=buddhist, 3=republican, 4=nihilist, 5=cthulhu cultist, 6=creationist). They can be any paradigms that you want, but make sure that you're more than passingly familiar with them, and it'd be a good idea to have at least one that is diametrically opposed to your current beliefs (see "republican," above). Then every week (or every day, or whenever you want), you roll the die, and then adopt that belief system until the next time you roll the die. Try to believe it completely, for real. Try to see the world through the lens of that belief system. You'll be amazed at the degree to which the entire world changes with each roll of the die.
The idea behind this exercise, is that by changing the underlying belief system that colors our every thought, action, and perception, your personality will become less static and more fluid, more dynamic; more accepting of - and capable of - change. It's very freeing. It frees you from the idea of "this is who I am and this is the only way I can be" and shows you firsthand just how capable you really are of being whoever you want.
It will also simply allow you to familiarize yourself with the idea of changing your Self, and with the process of change in general. (Again, you'll be amazed at how much everything you see and do can change just by switching your underlying belief system.) And finally, it's also just basic exercise for your "change muscle" - it's basically "change practice." You're making willful changes to your personality that are basically meaningless (and fun, if you do it right), just so that you can learn how to do it; then you apply those same skills to changing the things about yourself that you really want to change.
I have to disagree with you a bit here. Yes, change happens whether we plan for it or not, but that doesn't mean that one can't make it happen at will, as well.
In order to learn how to make changes in the world we perceive as outside of ourselves, one has to be able to change oneself, first. I've spent years studying the forces of change (chaos) specifically in order to do this. It's not all black robes and binding demons. In fact, it's mostly not that kind of typical occult-y stuff. More than 90% of it is simply learning how to examine oneself critically and objectively (but safely, without letting it damage your ego), and then applying various techniques to try to change your habits, personality traits, mannerisms, beliefs, desires, etc. from what they are, into what you want them to be.
I've spent countless thousands of hours of my life doing that. Overcoming a drug addiction did not happen by chance. It happened because I tried and tried and tried, over and over and over again, constantly, for years, to make it happen. And I've done the same thing with many other major areas of my Self (becoming less co-dependent with Ingrid is a good example), and even more minor aspects (making myself become less anal-retentive about the way I eat my food, about the way I clean things, and about the way I look; changing the way I react to driving; changing the way I perceive working out, so that I enjoy it and look forward to it, rather than seeing it as hard work or a chore; etc.)
If you take a passive role in your own life, you will forever be disappointed.
Yes, change will happen whether you want it to or not, and you need to be able to adapt to those unexpected situations when they arise. No doubt about that. But the best way to be prepared to deal with those sudden left-turns that life inevitably throws at you, is to manufacture change in your own life, over and over and over again.
Make a habit of trying to change yourself. Practice it. Get good at it. Start with little things, and work your way up (the same techniques apply, but little things are easier to change). Got any little annoying habits you'd like to change? Try it. See if you can do it. Then try another one.
Then, when big Change happens, and life throws you a curveball, you'll have a good idea of how to respond. You'll be prepared by your past experience.
You'll be able to roll with it, and go with the flow.
+ + +
Here's a neat little self-change exercise I learned when I first started studying Chaos Magick Theory. Get a d6 (or a d8, or whatever size die you want), and assign a different philosophy/belief system to each side (e.g., 1=xtian, 2=buddhist, 3=republican, 4=nihilist, 5=cthulhu cultist, 6=creationist). They can be any paradigms that you want, but make sure that you're more than passingly familiar with them, and it'd be a good idea to have at least one that is diametrically opposed to your current beliefs (see "republican," above). Then every week (or every day, or whenever you want), you roll the die, and then adopt that belief system until the next time you roll the die. Try to believe it completely, for real. Try to see the world through the lens of that belief system. You'll be amazed at the degree to which the entire world changes with each roll of the die.
The idea behind this exercise, is that by changing the underlying belief system that colors our every thought, action, and perception, your personality will become less static and more fluid, more dynamic; more accepting of - and capable of - change. It's very freeing. It frees you from the idea of "this is who I am and this is the only way I can be" and shows you firsthand just how capable you really are of being whoever you want.
It will also simply allow you to familiarize yourself with the idea of changing your Self, and with the process of change in general. (Again, you'll be amazed at how much everything you see and do can change just by switching your underlying belief system.) And finally, it's also just basic exercise for your "change muscle" - it's basically "change practice." You're making willful changes to your personality that are basically meaningless (and fun, if you do it right), just so that you can learn how to do it; then you apply those same skills to changing the things about yourself that you really want to change.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Friendships In Chaos, pt. 2...
We also did a ritual last weekend, my friends and I.
I haven't done that in a very long time. Not even by myself, let alone with my old Temple-mates.
It wasn't even a proper ritual, really. Just a little, nothing, throw-away rite. But I was amazed at how it made me feel. To be in that place. To be with those people.
To be doing magick.
I had completely forgotten just how much I love doing that. How much I love even just the sensation of doing it! The feeling of energy flowing through me, like a conduit. Finding the sense of the "flow" of the ritual, and then letting it pull me along. The pleasure of power coming into me, and erupting out of me. The drama, the spectacle, the art, the dance and the poetry of The Ritual.
It felt like making love with a best friend I hadn't seen in years.
When it was over, I found myself swallowing back tears. And once again, I was struck by the sudden and almost overwhelming realization of just how desperately I missed this thing that I had willingly let go, honestly believing that I no longer had any use for it.
And maybe I didn't have any use for it back then. And maybe I still don't. But it's clear to me now, that I need to find a reason to do it. Because it is obviously a lot more important to me than I had allowed myself to believe. It is clearly filling a hole in my life that I didn't know was there; that I thought I had already filled long ago.
I know now that I need to do this. I don't know why I need to do it yet, but I know I need to do it.
And I can't help but notice that this all happened only two weeks before I get the opportunity to spend an entire week doing nothing but playing with magick, with a group of the best magickians from all over the world. Isn't that strange?
I'm sure it's just a coincidence.
I haven't done that in a very long time. Not even by myself, let alone with my old Temple-mates.
It wasn't even a proper ritual, really. Just a little, nothing, throw-away rite. But I was amazed at how it made me feel. To be in that place. To be with those people.
To be doing magick.
I had completely forgotten just how much I love doing that. How much I love even just the sensation of doing it! The feeling of energy flowing through me, like a conduit. Finding the sense of the "flow" of the ritual, and then letting it pull me along. The pleasure of power coming into me, and erupting out of me. The drama, the spectacle, the art, the dance and the poetry of The Ritual.
It felt like making love with a best friend I hadn't seen in years.
When it was over, I found myself swallowing back tears. And once again, I was struck by the sudden and almost overwhelming realization of just how desperately I missed this thing that I had willingly let go, honestly believing that I no longer had any use for it.
And maybe I didn't have any use for it back then. And maybe I still don't. But it's clear to me now, that I need to find a reason to do it. Because it is obviously a lot more important to me than I had allowed myself to believe. It is clearly filling a hole in my life that I didn't know was there; that I thought I had already filled long ago.
I know now that I need to do this. I don't know why I need to do it yet, but I know I need to do it.
And I can't help but notice that this all happened only two weeks before I get the opportunity to spend an entire week doing nothing but playing with magick, with a group of the best magickians from all over the world. Isn't that strange?
I'm sure it's just a coincidence.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Friendships In Chaos, pt. 1...
Even though I can't talk about my concerns about the upcoming AGM, I had an experience with the IOT last weekend that I actually can talk about. As usual, I can't discuss what we were doing, but for whatever reason, I had cause to get together with my old Temple this weekend, and that brought up a lot of feelings that went beyond simple nostalgia.
I realized, first and foremost, just how much I miss my friends. It's a shame that my friendships got all wrapped up in the Temple the way they did, but it just worked out that way; most of my best friends were in the Temple, and the rest of my relationships with the larger group of my friends were through my friendships with my Temple-mates. And so when the Temple slowly dissolved, and I lost interest in (and reasons to do) magick, then I also suddenly lost my connection to almost all of my friends. They all live at least an hour away from me, so it's a bit of an investment of time and energy (and finances as well, with current fuel prices - even with my new fuel-efficient car) to go see them. And over the years I'd just gotten used to having this set reason to see them all regularly: the Temple and the IOT. So, with that gone, I no longer had a regular excuse to get together with them. If we were going to see each other, I was going to have to make the effort to stay in touch, and make the trips out there and back, just for the sole purpose of hanging out together.
But I didn't want to do that. For a lot of reasons. A lot of it boils down to the fact that I just don't do that. Maybe I don't do it just because I've never had a reason to before, I don't know; but I know that it isn't something I do. I like having friends, but I don't feel like I need friends in order to be happy. So, if it takes any significant amount of effort to maintain a friendship, I just won't bother. And I can't overlook the fact that I was high and drunk during a lot of this time, as well, which affected things in a variety of ways. It left me with even less energy to expend towards maintaining long-distance friendships, as well as numbing me to any sense of loneliness I may have otherwise felt; I was comfortably drunk and/or high, so I never felt like I was missing anything by not having relationships with these people anymore. And it was also creating a lot of other negative effects in my life, as well, and I wasn't exactly eager to share those parts of myself with my friends, people whom I'd like to impress, if I'm able. And beyond being a fat and lazy drunk, I was also going through a lot of other issues at the time that I didn't really feel like advertising: identity crises, marriage problems, spiritual voids, etc. Frankly, I just didn't want anyone to see me like that.
And it's only now, after seeing everyone again this weekend, and the "looking back" that naturally flows from that experience, that I realize - it wasn't just that I didn't feel like I needed friends, or that I felt it wasn't worth the energy to maintain those relationships - it's that, for a variety of reasons having to do with my own feelings about myself, I actively did not want any friends. I wanted to be alone. So, I just went about my life, and didn't bother trying to maintain these friendships, and didn't think much about it. And before I knew it, two years had gone by. And if it weren't for the fact that I had to get together with them again for the AGM this year, it almost certainly would've been even longer before I saw any of them again.
But seeing everyone again this weekend also made me realize, I don't feel that way anymore. I miss my friends. And I want to be a part of their life again. And I want them to be a part of mine. And it is very much worth my time and energy to make that happen.
But I'm worried that I won't be accepted. I'm really not the same person that I was two years ago. And I know they're all expecting me to be. Not because they're trying to force me into some pre-determined mold or anything; that's not what I mean. It's just, that's the person they've known me to be for years, so who else could they expect me to be? But I'm really not him anymore. I'm not dark the way that I used to be. I'm not a pervert the way I used to be. I'm not into the same things I used to be into. I'm sober for fuck's sake. I'm not even really a magickian anymore. I've mellowed out and matured so much in my old age (I'm not even forty yet, but I feel like an old man). And I'm worried that when they get to know this new version of me, that they'll find him boring, and lame. (And, I have to admit, a part of me is worried that I might feel the same way about them, as well.) Being around them makes me feel pressured to be the person I was. And I have to try keep that from changing me too much; I have to let it affect me a little (what's the point of having a relationship with someone if you don't let them affect you at all?), but I can't let it affect me so much that I compromise myself in order to fit my perception of their expectations of me, or in order to gain their approval. I need to be myself - or at least the version of myself that they bring out in me - and I need to be okay with the fact that maybe some people won't like me as much anymore.
But I definitely know that I need to try now. Because being with them again just felt good. And it felt like the right thing to do. And it made me realize that, even though I haven't let myself feel it for a long time, I really do miss them.
I realized, first and foremost, just how much I miss my friends. It's a shame that my friendships got all wrapped up in the Temple the way they did, but it just worked out that way; most of my best friends were in the Temple, and the rest of my relationships with the larger group of my friends were through my friendships with my Temple-mates. And so when the Temple slowly dissolved, and I lost interest in (and reasons to do) magick, then I also suddenly lost my connection to almost all of my friends. They all live at least an hour away from me, so it's a bit of an investment of time and energy (and finances as well, with current fuel prices - even with my new fuel-efficient car) to go see them. And over the years I'd just gotten used to having this set reason to see them all regularly: the Temple and the IOT. So, with that gone, I no longer had a regular excuse to get together with them. If we were going to see each other, I was going to have to make the effort to stay in touch, and make the trips out there and back, just for the sole purpose of hanging out together.
But I didn't want to do that. For a lot of reasons. A lot of it boils down to the fact that I just don't do that. Maybe I don't do it just because I've never had a reason to before, I don't know; but I know that it isn't something I do. I like having friends, but I don't feel like I need friends in order to be happy. So, if it takes any significant amount of effort to maintain a friendship, I just won't bother. And I can't overlook the fact that I was high and drunk during a lot of this time, as well, which affected things in a variety of ways. It left me with even less energy to expend towards maintaining long-distance friendships, as well as numbing me to any sense of loneliness I may have otherwise felt; I was comfortably drunk and/or high, so I never felt like I was missing anything by not having relationships with these people anymore. And it was also creating a lot of other negative effects in my life, as well, and I wasn't exactly eager to share those parts of myself with my friends, people whom I'd like to impress, if I'm able. And beyond being a fat and lazy drunk, I was also going through a lot of other issues at the time that I didn't really feel like advertising: identity crises, marriage problems, spiritual voids, etc. Frankly, I just didn't want anyone to see me like that.
And it's only now, after seeing everyone again this weekend, and the "looking back" that naturally flows from that experience, that I realize - it wasn't just that I didn't feel like I needed friends, or that I felt it wasn't worth the energy to maintain those relationships - it's that, for a variety of reasons having to do with my own feelings about myself, I actively did not want any friends. I wanted to be alone. So, I just went about my life, and didn't bother trying to maintain these friendships, and didn't think much about it. And before I knew it, two years had gone by. And if it weren't for the fact that I had to get together with them again for the AGM this year, it almost certainly would've been even longer before I saw any of them again.
But seeing everyone again this weekend also made me realize, I don't feel that way anymore. I miss my friends. And I want to be a part of their life again. And I want them to be a part of mine. And it is very much worth my time and energy to make that happen.
But I'm worried that I won't be accepted. I'm really not the same person that I was two years ago. And I know they're all expecting me to be. Not because they're trying to force me into some pre-determined mold or anything; that's not what I mean. It's just, that's the person they've known me to be for years, so who else could they expect me to be? But I'm really not him anymore. I'm not dark the way that I used to be. I'm not a pervert the way I used to be. I'm not into the same things I used to be into. I'm sober for fuck's sake. I'm not even really a magickian anymore. I've mellowed out and matured so much in my old age (I'm not even forty yet, but I feel like an old man). And I'm worried that when they get to know this new version of me, that they'll find him boring, and lame. (And, I have to admit, a part of me is worried that I might feel the same way about them, as well.) Being around them makes me feel pressured to be the person I was. And I have to try keep that from changing me too much; I have to let it affect me a little (what's the point of having a relationship with someone if you don't let them affect you at all?), but I can't let it affect me so much that I compromise myself in order to fit my perception of their expectations of me, or in order to gain their approval. I need to be myself - or at least the version of myself that they bring out in me - and I need to be okay with the fact that maybe some people won't like me as much anymore.
But I definitely know that I need to try now. Because being with them again just felt good. And it felt like the right thing to do. And it made me realize that, even though I haven't let myself feel it for a long time, I really do miss them.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Vow...
I Love you.
More than I ever thought I could Love anything.
I will never stop Loving you.
I COULD never stop Loving you.
And, as sure as I am that the Sun does not shine on my world
without your permission,
I am sure that I want you
to be the last thing I ever see.
I want your voice to be the last thing I ever hear,
and I want your hand holding mine
to be the last thing I ever feel.
And if you would consent to hold me,
even only as my last breath whispered from me,
then I will vow to protect you
from anything and everything that threatens or disturbs you;
to worship you
as if you were the god who gave me life, breath, and soul;
to adore you
as the most beautiful,
the most sexy,
the most compassionate,
the most Loving,
the most brilliant,
and the most magnificent woman that the Gods have ever seen fit
to grace our world with.
And I will vow to Love you
more than any person before or after us
has ever been able to do.
You are Light,
Life,
and Love to me,
and you ALWAYS will be.
+ + +
I confess, as the years have passed, I haven't done a very good job of living up to this oath.
You should hold me to it.
Please hold me to it.
This is who I want to be.
This is who I thought I was.
Help make me this man.
Let me be him, again, for you.
More than I ever thought I could Love anything.
I will never stop Loving you.
I COULD never stop Loving you.
And, as sure as I am that the Sun does not shine on my world
without your permission,
I am sure that I want you
to be the last thing I ever see.
I want your voice to be the last thing I ever hear,
and I want your hand holding mine
to be the last thing I ever feel.
And if you would consent to hold me,
even only as my last breath whispered from me,
then I will vow to protect you
from anything and everything that threatens or disturbs you;
to worship you
as if you were the god who gave me life, breath, and soul;
to adore you
as the most beautiful,
the most sexy,
the most compassionate,
the most Loving,
the most brilliant,
and the most magnificent woman that the Gods have ever seen fit
to grace our world with.
And I will vow to Love you
more than any person before or after us
has ever been able to do.
You are Light,
Life,
and Love to me,
and you ALWAYS will be.
+ + +
I confess, as the years have passed, I haven't done a very good job of living up to this oath.
You should hold me to it.
Please hold me to it.
This is who I want to be.
This is who I thought I was.
Help make me this man.
Let me be him, again, for you.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Working Out The Kinks...
Yesterday morning, I discovered that I haven't been doing my workout correctly for the past several years.
I'd been using the wrong target heart rate, a rate lower than what my actual target should be. So, I've been getting some benefit from my workout (anything is always better than nothing), but not as much as I could've been, and not as much as I thought I was. I could've been losing more weight, building more muscle, and doing it faster.
I also discovered that I need to adjust the methods I'm using to work out. I've been working out solely on the elliptical, with the goal of losing a certain amount of weight that way before going back to trying to incorporate weights into my routine. But I found out that the anaerobic activity of lifting weights actually helps to increase metabolism more effectively than aerobic activity alone, and so along with building muscle mass, it can also help you lose weight faster. So, sometime in the next couple of weeks, I think I'm going to start trying to incorporate weights back into my routine.
But this morning I just tried out my new target heart rate on the elliptical, and wow! Instant improvement of about 75%. I burned a ton more calories than I normally do, and I ran almost twice as far as I used to (virtually, of course), managing 3.5 miles in forty-five minutes.
And now I feel awesome. I have that delicious, relaxed, rubbery exhaustion in my limbs, and I feel ready to do anything, like I could take on the whole world.
Goes a long way towards making up for the seemingly endless series of humiliations I suffered in the game last night. More on that tomorrow...
I'd been using the wrong target heart rate, a rate lower than what my actual target should be. So, I've been getting some benefit from my workout (anything is always better than nothing), but not as much as I could've been, and not as much as I thought I was. I could've been losing more weight, building more muscle, and doing it faster.
I also discovered that I need to adjust the methods I'm using to work out. I've been working out solely on the elliptical, with the goal of losing a certain amount of weight that way before going back to trying to incorporate weights into my routine. But I found out that the anaerobic activity of lifting weights actually helps to increase metabolism more effectively than aerobic activity alone, and so along with building muscle mass, it can also help you lose weight faster. So, sometime in the next couple of weeks, I think I'm going to start trying to incorporate weights back into my routine.
But this morning I just tried out my new target heart rate on the elliptical, and wow! Instant improvement of about 75%. I burned a ton more calories than I normally do, and I ran almost twice as far as I used to (virtually, of course), managing 3.5 miles in forty-five minutes.
And now I feel awesome. I have that delicious, relaxed, rubbery exhaustion in my limbs, and I feel ready to do anything, like I could take on the whole world.
Goes a long way towards making up for the seemingly endless series of humiliations I suffered in the game last night. More on that tomorrow...
Monday, April 30, 2012
Göd Hexennacht...
Walpurgisnacht begins at Sunset. And I have to say, I'm a little nervous.
Maybe "nervous" isn't the right word. Maybe "anxious" would describe it better. I know that "worried" isn't correct. Because it's not that I'm concerned that anything bad will happen. It's just that I don't know what to expect. I know that something big will happen, and that I will be very different tomorrow than I am today, but I don't have a clear idea how, exactly. And that fear of the unknown, combined with the anticipation of the event itself, always gives me a bit of a "butterflies in the tummy" feeling beforehand. It's also a feeling of exhilaration, which is, of course, almost indistinguishable from anxiety. I guess we sometimes refer to this feeling as "nerves" or "jitters."
I'm also a bit more excited than usual this time around, because there are some bigger things going on this year than usual. This night will mark the beginning of a year-long period of monasticism and self-sacrifice for me. And while I'm looking forward to that, it's also a scary thing to face on some levels. What if I have a horrible year because of this decision? What if it's too hard? What if it's too painful? What if I fail?
But there's joy to balance that out, as well. An unexpected benefit of Her recent unemployment, is that she is now free to celebrate with me tonight. Which, I have to admit, I think I'm looking forward to more than anything else. Things have been weird, and kind of difficult, and distant, and more than a little unpleasant between us for a while now. I've changed a lot, suddenly and drastically, in the past couple of months. And that's a hard thing to adjust to - when your partner is suddenly such a completely different person. And especially so if adjusting doesn't happen to be one of your strong suits. I imagine she must feel pretty lonely right now. And the particular ways in which I've changed haven't exactly made me easier to live with, either. Though maybe "easy" isn't the right word. I don't know. I definitely don't think I'm as much fun as a I used to be, that's for sure.
So, I'm finding that I'm really, really excited about sharing this experience with her tonight. Excited by the possibility of re-connecting with her in some way, in any way, beyond the merely superficial mechanics of our cohabitation. Of sharing ourselves, again, in a poignant and reflective space, in a true and meaningful way. I know that we will both be happier after tonight. And I have the expectation that we will be happier in a specific way, but I'm also aware that isn't necessarily true - it could go either way. But whether the experience brings us closer together, or drives us further apart, I know that we will both feel better about our selves, and about each other.
Will us Luck. Göd Hexennacht and Happy May to you all. Be safe tonight.
We'll see you on the other side.
Maybe "nervous" isn't the right word. Maybe "anxious" would describe it better. I know that "worried" isn't correct. Because it's not that I'm concerned that anything bad will happen. It's just that I don't know what to expect. I know that something big will happen, and that I will be very different tomorrow than I am today, but I don't have a clear idea how, exactly. And that fear of the unknown, combined with the anticipation of the event itself, always gives me a bit of a "butterflies in the tummy" feeling beforehand. It's also a feeling of exhilaration, which is, of course, almost indistinguishable from anxiety. I guess we sometimes refer to this feeling as "nerves" or "jitters."
I'm also a bit more excited than usual this time around, because there are some bigger things going on this year than usual. This night will mark the beginning of a year-long period of monasticism and self-sacrifice for me. And while I'm looking forward to that, it's also a scary thing to face on some levels. What if I have a horrible year because of this decision? What if it's too hard? What if it's too painful? What if I fail?
But there's joy to balance that out, as well. An unexpected benefit of Her recent unemployment, is that she is now free to celebrate with me tonight. Which, I have to admit, I think I'm looking forward to more than anything else. Things have been weird, and kind of difficult, and distant, and more than a little unpleasant between us for a while now. I've changed a lot, suddenly and drastically, in the past couple of months. And that's a hard thing to adjust to - when your partner is suddenly such a completely different person. And especially so if adjusting doesn't happen to be one of your strong suits. I imagine she must feel pretty lonely right now. And the particular ways in which I've changed haven't exactly made me easier to live with, either. Though maybe "easy" isn't the right word. I don't know. I definitely don't think I'm as much fun as a I used to be, that's for sure.
So, I'm finding that I'm really, really excited about sharing this experience with her tonight. Excited by the possibility of re-connecting with her in some way, in any way, beyond the merely superficial mechanics of our cohabitation. Of sharing ourselves, again, in a poignant and reflective space, in a true and meaningful way. I know that we will both be happier after tonight. And I have the expectation that we will be happier in a specific way, but I'm also aware that isn't necessarily true - it could go either way. But whether the experience brings us closer together, or drives us further apart, I know that we will both feel better about our selves, and about each other.
Will us Luck. Göd Hexennacht and Happy May to you all. Be safe tonight.
We'll see you on the other side.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Obstacles...
I cannot tell you how long this road shall be, but fear not the obstacles in your path, for fate has vouchsafed your reward. Though the road may wind, yea, your hearts grow weary, still shall ye follow them, even unto your salvation. -Blind Seer, O Brother, Where Art Thou?
It seems as if the Universe has decided to test me.
I was pulled over for speeding last night on my ride home. I was in the middle of a long line of cars, just following the car in front of me for miles and miles. At one point, the car in front of me stopped to make a left-hand turn. Afterwards, I sped up to rejoin the line of cars that had moved off down the road away from me as I waited for the car in front of me to turn. I have no idea how fast I was going, or what the speed limit on that part of the winding road was, but that must've been where they caught me, because as I came up the next hill and around a bend, a Sheriff's deputy stepped out into the road ahead of me and signaled me to pull over. There were two deputies parked in someone's driveway, both pulling people over in the same way. It was clear this wasn't the actual speed trap; this was the net. I never saw the trap, but I assume that it must've been somewhere on that part of the road just after that left-hand turn, because that 100 yards where I sped up to rejoin the line of cars was the only time on the entire commute up to that point that I hadn't been in the middle of a line of cars. At every other point we'd been moving along like a line of ants, and I'd been going the same speed as the car in front of me, and the same speed as the car behind me. When I asked the deputy where I'd been speeding, all he would say was "Back there," pointing down the road in the direction I had just come. Well, duh, officer. Vague, much?
He said I was doing 67 in a 40. I don't think that's true, but I have to take his word for it. Normally, when you see a speed trap, it's reflexive to hit your brakes and check your speedometer. But since I never saw a trap, and since I was just trying to catch up to the car in front of me, I have no idea what speed I was actually going. And since he won't tell me where I was actually caught, I can't even verify that the speed limit was actually 40. But, whatever, no big deal. An $80 fine and 1 point on my license. Even though I just finally cleared all the points off my license this year, still, whatever, it's not the end of the world. And it could've been a lot worse - the deputy was giving me a big break by only charging me with 49 in a 40, rather than the full 67.
But I found that I had a really hard time getting over it. I felt like this completely ruined my new commute for me, this new route to work that I've fallen in love with and come to rely on. Because part of the reason this commute was so good for me was that it was relaxing - stress-free compared to 270. But now that I know that around every bend there could be a speed trap that I will never even be able to see, I'm feeling paranoid. My worry-free drive is now worry-ful. So, in order to deal with that I have to obey the speed limit, but that doesn't really help, either. Because now I'm constantly checking my speedometer and always worried about whether I'm speeding or not, where before I never even had to think about that. Also, a lot of the enjoyment of this road was that it was just a fun road to drive - a winding backroad through farm country. Having to obey a completely ridiculous 40mph speed limit on a twisting road in the middle of nowhere just sucks all of the fun out it. So now it's no fun, and stressful. Fuck, I might as well go back to taking I-270.
I was still really tense and upset when I got home, so I decided to try and meditate to see if I could relax a little. But it was really late by that point (I'd got caught at work and left later than I'd planned, then I had to stop by the grocery store, not to mention spending fifteen minutes sitting by the side of the road with the cops), and I still had a bunch more work I needed to do, so I didn't have much time available. Trying to meditate under pressure to hurry up and finish so you can get back to work is pretty self-defeating, to say the least, so as you can probably imagine, it didn't go very well. But the biggest obstacle was that I had a song stuck in my head. This is something that has come up consistently throughout my entire meditative history, and I have never found a successful method of dealing with it. Basically, every once in a while, I will try to meditate, and I'll find there's a snatch of a song repeating in my head, and there's simply nothing I can do about it. I never get any meditation accomplished during these sessions, because the song continually breaks my concentration, and there's no way to get rid of it. And every time it breaks my concentration or breaks me out of my meditation I get a little more upset about it.
So when I sat down this time, and heard the song in my head, I knew that I was completely fucked right from the start. Still, I tried anyways, doing a full 108 breath cycle, but it did no good. When I stood up from my mat, I was even more stressed out and upset than I was when I sat down.
Our internet was still down, so that made a whole bunch of things more difficult and/or impossible, adding further frustration, complication, and aggravation to an already stressful evening. When I finally got to bed, it was no surprise that I didn't sleep very well.
This morning, my beautiful, relaxing new commute was, as predicted, stressful and unpleasant. But at least I didn't get pulled over.
I got to the gym bright and early at 7:30, only to find the place packed. Every treadmill taken, every elliptical taken. Part of the reason I enjoy working out in the early morning is because it is never packed. But there were at least twice as many people in there this morning as I have ever seen in there before! I have never had to wait to use a machine before, either. I didn't know what to do. So I ended up just standing around for fifteen minutes, until a machine opened up. Which, of course, threw off my schedule for the rest of my morning by fifteen minutes.
But here's the kicker: about an hour after I get up to my office from the gym, She calls me to tell me that she's just been fired. From the job she's had for eight years. By her new boss (about the tenth she's had in the last two years), who's been there only a couple of months.
Wow.
Ok.
Gotta say, didn't see that one coming.
Up to this point, it had just been a series of annoying complications. But this is different. This is a sudden 90-degree turn in the course of our life from here on.
It's kind of difficult to take it all in, honestly. Suddenly, the foundation of our lives has become slightly unstable. We know a lot of things are about to change, drastically. But, we don't really know which things, or how, or in what way. It could be anything from Really Bad (e.g., we can't pay our mortgage and end up losing our home, etc.) all the way to Totally Amazing (e.g., she could end up with a new job that she loves, that pays better, that finally gives us more time together, etc.). Everything is up in the air, which is scary, but also full of potential, which is exhilarating.
This time will be what we make of it.
So, are we up to the challenge?
I have to say, I'm looking forward to finding out.
The Beginning is a delicate time. -Princess Irulan, Dune
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Pleasuring Myself, continued...
A reader left this comment on my post from yesterday, and I wanted to respond to it here, because I think it raises some interesting points that got me thinking about it a bit more:
I'm not sure I can agree with that. I'm not sure I should agree with that, for my own safety.
See, my problem is that, more often than not, that instinct or drive or need to pleasure myself, to make myself happy, has led me to do stupid, self-destructive things. On more than one occasion now, it has come close to killing me. And it's a virtual certainty that, if left unchecked, someday it will succeed. So pleasuring myself is my problem. And so I feel that, for my own good, I can't allow myself to just try to be as happy as possible moment-to-moment. Because what happens when the thing that will make me happy is also something that hurts me in some way?
So I feel like I need to do something to correct that behavior, that need to pleasure myself. And right now, I'm not sure that I actually am. Yes, it's true that I'm no longer indulging in those self-destructive pastimes at the moment, and that I've replaced them with more self-constructive activities, but I don't feel that I can take any credit for that. Because I didn't do anything to foster that change. The circumstances around me have changed, but I'm still responding to them in the same way I always have before. I still feel just as strong of a need to pleasure myself, it's just that the methods in which I want to achieve that pleasure are now different. As I said yesterday: before I wanted to get high and get off, so that's what I did, and now I want to meditate and study mathematics, so that's what I'm doing.
The root cause of my self-destructive behavior lies in that need to make myself feel as good as possible for as much of the time as possible. Yes, I'm now indulging that need in a constructive manner, but since I had no hand it actually making that happen and am only following where the flow takes me, then how can I trust in that and believe that I am now somehow "better?" I have put no Will into this. I am not behaving any differently, not really. I'm just responding to different stimulus in the same manner as before. So, what happens when the novelty wears off? What happens when I suddenly find that I'm not deriving the same amount of joy and satisfaction out of these healthy activities as I once did?
What happens when I finally do want to get high again?
Because that day will come, no question. And if I haven't done anything to correct the root cause of that desire, then how will I be able to resist it? And I guess that's the problem in a nutshell: I'm not resisting. Because for me, there's nothing to resist.
Most people in my situation (newly-sober addicts) are in a constant battle against their own desires. They are struggling against themselves to try and resist the urge to do the one thing they want to do more than anything else. And their entire recovery is built around that internal conflict. I know that I am an addict because I have experienced that conflict for more of my life than I care to admit, and because most of the times that I have fought those urges, I have lost. But that is not my experience now; that is not what I'm going through today. I'm not getting high right now because I do not want to get high right now. I am sober because, right now, I want to be sober. I have no urges to resist or fight against. They just disappeared, and I ran with it. And so that makes me feel like I'm not really doing the work. Like I'm not really getting any better. That I just got lucky. That I had a brief window of opportunity, and I seized on it.
But this is not going to last forever. Eventually, the winds of my desire are bound to blow back in the other direction again. And I'm going to need to know ahead of time how to respond when that happens, or else it's going to catch me off guard and I'm going to fall right back into the same self-destructive patterns that I feel so blessedly and falsely liberated from right now. But how can I possibly prepare for that? Should I be resisting every pleasurable desire I have, irrespective of de-structive vs. con-structive? Do I need to be living a monastic life? (Frankly, I'd rather OD.)
Maybe I just need to cross that bridge when I come to it. Maybe there's no point in worrying about it. Maybe I should just accept this period of productive activity for what it is, and be grateful that it came so easily to me. Maybe I should just focus on how lucky I am that I don't have to go through that struggle the way so many other addicts do.
And it would be so easy to do all of that, if only I felt in any way responsible for this change of fortune. If I just felt that I had some hand in bringing this release about, then I would know that I actually am resisting, that I am doing the work - just in my own unique way, outside the range of the typical experience. The same way I seem to do just about everything else.
Maybe that is true.
Could that be true?
No, I don't think so. I've fought hard before, and I've won. And I've fought hard, and lost. But this time, I wasn't even fighting at all. I had given in to my desires 100%. And even though I knew I was hurting myself badly I still didn't try to resist. I just didn't have it in me. But then I hit a bottom I hadn't even seen coming. And it scared the shit out of me. And I responded to that fear by running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. Basically, I scared myself straight.
How can I take credit for that?
I can't. I didn't really do anything. I got lucky.
But what I can do? I can be grateful. And oh, how I am.
And I can look on the bright side. I can make the most of it. I can do everything in my power to get as much out of this experience as I possibly can, for as long as it lasts. And if I'm lucky, and smart, then the things I learn during this temporary reprieve will prepare me to know what to do and how to respond when that inevitable day finally arrives, and my desires shift their poles again.
And that's gotta be enough.
Well I think the goal is to be happy moment by moment as much as you can. So what's the problem with pleasuring yourself? Just strive for getting outside your own ego as much as you can, and then you're still moving forward, I say.
I'm not sure I can agree with that. I'm not sure I should agree with that, for my own safety.
See, my problem is that, more often than not, that instinct or drive or need to pleasure myself, to make myself happy, has led me to do stupid, self-destructive things. On more than one occasion now, it has come close to killing me. And it's a virtual certainty that, if left unchecked, someday it will succeed. So pleasuring myself is my problem. And so I feel that, for my own good, I can't allow myself to just try to be as happy as possible moment-to-moment. Because what happens when the thing that will make me happy is also something that hurts me in some way?
So I feel like I need to do something to correct that behavior, that need to pleasure myself. And right now, I'm not sure that I actually am. Yes, it's true that I'm no longer indulging in those self-destructive pastimes at the moment, and that I've replaced them with more self-constructive activities, but I don't feel that I can take any credit for that. Because I didn't do anything to foster that change. The circumstances around me have changed, but I'm still responding to them in the same way I always have before. I still feel just as strong of a need to pleasure myself, it's just that the methods in which I want to achieve that pleasure are now different. As I said yesterday: before I wanted to get high and get off, so that's what I did, and now I want to meditate and study mathematics, so that's what I'm doing.
The root cause of my self-destructive behavior lies in that need to make myself feel as good as possible for as much of the time as possible. Yes, I'm now indulging that need in a constructive manner, but since I had no hand it actually making that happen and am only following where the flow takes me, then how can I trust in that and believe that I am now somehow "better?" I have put no Will into this. I am not behaving any differently, not really. I'm just responding to different stimulus in the same manner as before. So, what happens when the novelty wears off? What happens when I suddenly find that I'm not deriving the same amount of joy and satisfaction out of these healthy activities as I once did?
What happens when I finally do want to get high again?
Because that day will come, no question. And if I haven't done anything to correct the root cause of that desire, then how will I be able to resist it? And I guess that's the problem in a nutshell: I'm not resisting. Because for me, there's nothing to resist.
Most people in my situation (newly-sober addicts) are in a constant battle against their own desires. They are struggling against themselves to try and resist the urge to do the one thing they want to do more than anything else. And their entire recovery is built around that internal conflict. I know that I am an addict because I have experienced that conflict for more of my life than I care to admit, and because most of the times that I have fought those urges, I have lost. But that is not my experience now; that is not what I'm going through today. I'm not getting high right now because I do not want to get high right now. I am sober because, right now, I want to be sober. I have no urges to resist or fight against. They just disappeared, and I ran with it. And so that makes me feel like I'm not really doing the work. Like I'm not really getting any better. That I just got lucky. That I had a brief window of opportunity, and I seized on it.
But this is not going to last forever. Eventually, the winds of my desire are bound to blow back in the other direction again. And I'm going to need to know ahead of time how to respond when that happens, or else it's going to catch me off guard and I'm going to fall right back into the same self-destructive patterns that I feel so blessedly and falsely liberated from right now. But how can I possibly prepare for that? Should I be resisting every pleasurable desire I have, irrespective of de-structive vs. con-structive? Do I need to be living a monastic life? (Frankly, I'd rather OD.)
Maybe I just need to cross that bridge when I come to it. Maybe there's no point in worrying about it. Maybe I should just accept this period of productive activity for what it is, and be grateful that it came so easily to me. Maybe I should just focus on how lucky I am that I don't have to go through that struggle the way so many other addicts do.
And it would be so easy to do all of that, if only I felt in any way responsible for this change of fortune. If I just felt that I had some hand in bringing this release about, then I would know that I actually am resisting, that I am doing the work - just in my own unique way, outside the range of the typical experience. The same way I seem to do just about everything else.
Maybe that is true.
Could that be true?
No, I don't think so. I've fought hard before, and I've won. And I've fought hard, and lost. But this time, I wasn't even fighting at all. I had given in to my desires 100%. And even though I knew I was hurting myself badly I still didn't try to resist. I just didn't have it in me. But then I hit a bottom I hadn't even seen coming. And it scared the shit out of me. And I responded to that fear by running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. Basically, I scared myself straight.
How can I take credit for that?
I can't. I didn't really do anything. I got lucky.
But what I can do? I can be grateful. And oh, how I am.
And I can look on the bright side. I can make the most of it. I can do everything in my power to get as much out of this experience as I possibly can, for as long as it lasts. And if I'm lucky, and smart, then the things I learn during this temporary reprieve will prepare me to know what to do and how to respond when that inevitable day finally arrives, and my desires shift their poles again.
And that's gotta be enough.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Pleasuring Myself...
How's that for a provocative title, huh?
But, seriously, I've been realizing lately that I'm still exhibiting the same pattern of behavior that I'm currently trying to break out of. I'm still spending the vast majority of my time every day pleasuring myself. The only difference is that now I'm pleasuring myself in ways that are generally more beneficial.
I'm eating good and good-for-me food instead of fried, microwaved, and/or bar food. But not because I've made some self-sacrificing commitment to eat better. I'm doing it because I'm craving fruits and vegetables and yogurts and other nutritious food, and because eating the heavy, calorie- and fat-laden foods I used to love now makes me ill. So, I'm still doing exactly what I want; it's just that what I want has changed. So, am I really doing anything differently?
I'm still pleasuring myself all the time. But instead of doing it physically or chemically with sex and drugs, I'm doing it mentally, emotionally, and creatively by studying subjects that interest me, reading books that move and/or stimulate me, and by writing whatever I feel like at the time here on a regular basis. (And I guess physically, as well, by eating healthy foods.) But again, it's not because I've made some difficult life-decision to try to become a better person. It's just that this is what I want to do now. I'm still doing exactly what I want. I wanted to get high and get off before, so that's what I did; and now I want to study mathematics and meditate, so that's what I'm doing.
I have not yet even made an attempt to resist my desires.
So, the question is, have I really changed at all?
And if I'm being healthy and productive, then does it even matter?
I guess we'll find out soon enough.
But, seriously, I've been realizing lately that I'm still exhibiting the same pattern of behavior that I'm currently trying to break out of. I'm still spending the vast majority of my time every day pleasuring myself. The only difference is that now I'm pleasuring myself in ways that are generally more beneficial.
I'm eating good and good-for-me food instead of fried, microwaved, and/or bar food. But not because I've made some self-sacrificing commitment to eat better. I'm doing it because I'm craving fruits and vegetables and yogurts and other nutritious food, and because eating the heavy, calorie- and fat-laden foods I used to love now makes me ill. So, I'm still doing exactly what I want; it's just that what I want has changed. So, am I really doing anything differently?
I'm still pleasuring myself all the time. But instead of doing it physically or chemically with sex and drugs, I'm doing it mentally, emotionally, and creatively by studying subjects that interest me, reading books that move and/or stimulate me, and by writing whatever I feel like at the time here on a regular basis. (And I guess physically, as well, by eating healthy foods.) But again, it's not because I've made some difficult life-decision to try to become a better person. It's just that this is what I want to do now. I'm still doing exactly what I want. I wanted to get high and get off before, so that's what I did; and now I want to study mathematics and meditate, so that's what I'm doing.
I have not yet even made an attempt to resist my desires.
So, the question is, have I really changed at all?
And if I'm being healthy and productive, then does it even matter?
I guess we'll find out soon enough.
Monday, April 16, 2012
A Big, Fat Case of the Mondays...
Today was one of those mornings where everything seems to go wrong.
I got up at 5:30 to try to get back to the gym before work. (Finally! I need it!) As I was getting ready, I was hit with a sudden attack of a severely upset stomach, and so by the time I managed to take care of that I was very late. Still, I wasn't down about it.
On my new, beauteous back road commute, I almost immediately found myself about 15th in line behind a very, very slow-moving dump truck. We're talking an average of 20 mph below the speed-limit here. The guy in the Subaru Imprezza behind him was riding his tail viciously, but for some reason, he wouldn't pass the truck. There were plenty of opportunities. And I know an Imprezza can outrun me, so I know it can pass a freaking dump truck. And the guy was obviously pissed off at going so slow, judging by his tailgating. So why wouldn't he pass the truck?? And, of course, being 15th in line, several people up front were going to need to pass before I was going to have any chance of making it myself. So, if they didn't pass, I couldn't pass. The truck didn't turn off the road until about two miles from my work. It was frustrating, but still, I didn't let it get to me.
Got to the office/gym late, but still with enough time to get in a workout. Got down to the gym, grabbed a locker, suited up, put everything else in the locker, clicked the lock closed... and realized that I no longer remembered the combination. I tried several combos that I thought might be it, but no dice. Ok, no problem - I've got the combo recorded on my computer upstairs in my office. ...But my office is locked, and the key is now locked in my gym locker. Damn. I spent the next fifteen minutes trying various combos I thought might be the one, but I couldn't find it. So, ok, that's pretty damn frustrating, and I feel like an idiot now, but still, nothing to get upset about really; just a minor glitch. Might as well get a workout in anyways. I'm all suited up for it, and I've got nothing else to do right now.
I haven't worked out in several months. In fact, I've gained back all of the weight I lost last Summer, plus a few pounds. And I haven't exactly been what you'd call "active" in the meantime. So, just fifteen minutes into my workout, I start to feel a tightening in my chest, and my left arm and shoulder start to hurt. Doesn't take a cardiologist to figure out what that means. So, ok, that's pretty scary, and a little daunting, but what's the sense in getting upset about it? I just stopped what I was doing and went into my cool-down a little early. No point in over-doing it. Gotta crawl before you can walk. Tomorrow, or someday soon, I'll be able to do twenty minutes, and then thirty, and that's how you get stronger.
So then my workout was over, and it was time to try and figure out what to do about my locker situation. By this point in the morning, our secretary is supposed to be in, and she has a skeleton key. So, I figured that I could just get her to let me into my office, get my combo, and then head back down to the gym to open up my locker and proceed with my post-workout clean-up. So I exit the gym and head up the stairs towards my office... until I get to the first locked door. My key card for opening our electronic security doors is on the same key ring as my office key, which previously mentioned is now locked in my gym locker. And I can't get back into the gym, because that door is electronically locked, as well. So, now I'm locked in a stairwell. Ok, so, clearly, this is not my day. But, it's early in the morning, someone is sure to be by soon. I'll just have to wait here for a little bit, that's all. I decided to take the opportunity to rest against a wall and have a morning meditation.
A note about my appearance: I honestly don't care what I look like while I work out. I don't bother to do my hair before my workout, because I'm just going to shower afterwards and have to do it again. So, I had wet, sweaty bedhead. And my workout clothes serve exactly one purpose: to keep me as cool and comfortable as possible while I'm working out. They are not meant to look attractive. My running shirt is thin and sleeveless, and you can clearly see my man-tits outlined against the... whatever the hell fabric that shirt is made of. And my shorts are, well, shorts; they do an excellent job of showing off my pasty-white, nearly hairless, and overly large legs.
Now, this is all fine, when I'm down in the gym and everyone else around me is also all sweaty and not-looking-their-best, but now I had to leave that specialized attire area, and venture out into the rest of the office. I felt a bit conspicuous, to say the least. After a few minutes, someone came along and let me in, and in short order I managed to get the skeleton key from our secretary, unlock my office, and retrieve the combo from my computer. (My earlier guesses hadn't even been close, by the way.) But now I had to get that knowledge back through all the electronically-locked security doors, and into the gym locker room.
I made my way down the back stairway and out into the parking garage, and around to the front door of the gym. I took this route specifically to avoid the more direct route, which would lead me straight through the crowded cafeteria where so many of my co-workers would be having breakfast right about now. But unbeknownst to me (because I always enter the gym through the back way), the main entrance into the gym lobby is also sealed with an electronic lock. And unlike the stairwell I was trapped in earlier, I can't expect someone to be coming by this way very soon. Almost everyone uses the back entrance, because it's attached to the office, the parking deck and the cafeteria; the front entrance is attached to the visitor parking lot. So, I'm going to need a new way in.
At this point, standing in my gym clothes on the front lawn, facing yet another locked door, the absurdity of the situation is beginning to sink in. I decide to see if the receptionist in the office building's main lobby (the one and only area of the our building that one can enter without a key card) would be able to let me into the gym. When she tells me she can't do that, I actually start to laugh. And not in a if-you-don't-laugh-you'll-cry kind of way, either. I was genuinely amused. I mean, how is this not funny at this point?
What the receptionist can do, she tells me, is to let me into the building so that I can go up through the cafeteria and down into the gym lobby that I was locked out of; then I should be able to knock on the door of the gym's workout area and get someone's attention to let me back in. She lets me into the building and I bypass the elevators and head up the stairwell, just like I normally do, thinking about the fact that I will now have to go through the cafeteria in my sweaty workout clothes, just as I'd been trying to avoid. Unfortunately, because I was thinking about that little unpleasantness, I failed to realize that I would, of course, need a key card in order to exit the stairwell and therefore enter the cafeteria. I did realize this as soon as I walked the three flights of stairs to the locked door, however.
So, I had to find my way out of the stairwell and into the parking garage, again, walk down the parking garage and out to the front of the building, again, and get the receptionist to let me into the lobby, again. I was actually enjoying myself by this point! As soon as I walked into the main lobby, the receptionist reminded me that I would need to take the elevators in order to reach the cafeteria without a key card, and I thanked her for delivering that information that would have been so useful five minutes earlier. But, after passing through the cafeteria, and enduring some disgusted stares, I finally made it back into the gym, and managed to open my locker. I almost danced the Dance of Joy on the spot.
But after my shower, as I was getting dressed, I realized something important. After that whole ridiculous comedy of errors that was my Monday morning, I felt great. I was happy. I wasn't frustrated or upset or irritated or anxious or any of the things I would've predicted I'd have felt after going through all of this. Throughout the entire ordeal, I naturally responded in a completely different way than I normally would have, without trying to. I had Brightsided my way through a rather hellish Monday morning and into a fabulous mood, without having to think about it once.
And here I thought this day couldn't get any better.
I got up at 5:30 to try to get back to the gym before work. (Finally! I need it!) As I was getting ready, I was hit with a sudden attack of a severely upset stomach, and so by the time I managed to take care of that I was very late. Still, I wasn't down about it.
On my new, beauteous back road commute, I almost immediately found myself about 15th in line behind a very, very slow-moving dump truck. We're talking an average of 20 mph below the speed-limit here. The guy in the Subaru Imprezza behind him was riding his tail viciously, but for some reason, he wouldn't pass the truck. There were plenty of opportunities. And I know an Imprezza can outrun me, so I know it can pass a freaking dump truck. And the guy was obviously pissed off at going so slow, judging by his tailgating. So why wouldn't he pass the truck?? And, of course, being 15th in line, several people up front were going to need to pass before I was going to have any chance of making it myself. So, if they didn't pass, I couldn't pass. The truck didn't turn off the road until about two miles from my work. It was frustrating, but still, I didn't let it get to me.
Got to the office/gym late, but still with enough time to get in a workout. Got down to the gym, grabbed a locker, suited up, put everything else in the locker, clicked the lock closed... and realized that I no longer remembered the combination. I tried several combos that I thought might be it, but no dice. Ok, no problem - I've got the combo recorded on my computer upstairs in my office. ...But my office is locked, and the key is now locked in my gym locker. Damn. I spent the next fifteen minutes trying various combos I thought might be the one, but I couldn't find it. So, ok, that's pretty damn frustrating, and I feel like an idiot now, but still, nothing to get upset about really; just a minor glitch. Might as well get a workout in anyways. I'm all suited up for it, and I've got nothing else to do right now.
I haven't worked out in several months. In fact, I've gained back all of the weight I lost last Summer, plus a few pounds. And I haven't exactly been what you'd call "active" in the meantime. So, just fifteen minutes into my workout, I start to feel a tightening in my chest, and my left arm and shoulder start to hurt. Doesn't take a cardiologist to figure out what that means. So, ok, that's pretty scary, and a little daunting, but what's the sense in getting upset about it? I just stopped what I was doing and went into my cool-down a little early. No point in over-doing it. Gotta crawl before you can walk. Tomorrow, or someday soon, I'll be able to do twenty minutes, and then thirty, and that's how you get stronger.
So then my workout was over, and it was time to try and figure out what to do about my locker situation. By this point in the morning, our secretary is supposed to be in, and she has a skeleton key. So, I figured that I could just get her to let me into my office, get my combo, and then head back down to the gym to open up my locker and proceed with my post-workout clean-up. So I exit the gym and head up the stairs towards my office... until I get to the first locked door. My key card for opening our electronic security doors is on the same key ring as my office key, which previously mentioned is now locked in my gym locker. And I can't get back into the gym, because that door is electronically locked, as well. So, now I'm locked in a stairwell. Ok, so, clearly, this is not my day. But, it's early in the morning, someone is sure to be by soon. I'll just have to wait here for a little bit, that's all. I decided to take the opportunity to rest against a wall and have a morning meditation.
A note about my appearance: I honestly don't care what I look like while I work out. I don't bother to do my hair before my workout, because I'm just going to shower afterwards and have to do it again. So, I had wet, sweaty bedhead. And my workout clothes serve exactly one purpose: to keep me as cool and comfortable as possible while I'm working out. They are not meant to look attractive. My running shirt is thin and sleeveless, and you can clearly see my man-tits outlined against the... whatever the hell fabric that shirt is made of. And my shorts are, well, shorts; they do an excellent job of showing off my pasty-white, nearly hairless, and overly large legs.
Now, this is all fine, when I'm down in the gym and everyone else around me is also all sweaty and not-looking-their-best, but now I had to leave that specialized attire area, and venture out into the rest of the office. I felt a bit conspicuous, to say the least. After a few minutes, someone came along and let me in, and in short order I managed to get the skeleton key from our secretary, unlock my office, and retrieve the combo from my computer. (My earlier guesses hadn't even been close, by the way.) But now I had to get that knowledge back through all the electronically-locked security doors, and into the gym locker room.
I made my way down the back stairway and out into the parking garage, and around to the front door of the gym. I took this route specifically to avoid the more direct route, which would lead me straight through the crowded cafeteria where so many of my co-workers would be having breakfast right about now. But unbeknownst to me (because I always enter the gym through the back way), the main entrance into the gym lobby is also sealed with an electronic lock. And unlike the stairwell I was trapped in earlier, I can't expect someone to be coming by this way very soon. Almost everyone uses the back entrance, because it's attached to the office, the parking deck and the cafeteria; the front entrance is attached to the visitor parking lot. So, I'm going to need a new way in.
At this point, standing in my gym clothes on the front lawn, facing yet another locked door, the absurdity of the situation is beginning to sink in. I decide to see if the receptionist in the office building's main lobby (the one and only area of the our building that one can enter without a key card) would be able to let me into the gym. When she tells me she can't do that, I actually start to laugh. And not in a if-you-don't-laugh-you'll-cry kind of way, either. I was genuinely amused. I mean, how is this not funny at this point?
What the receptionist can do, she tells me, is to let me into the building so that I can go up through the cafeteria and down into the gym lobby that I was locked out of; then I should be able to knock on the door of the gym's workout area and get someone's attention to let me back in. She lets me into the building and I bypass the elevators and head up the stairwell, just like I normally do, thinking about the fact that I will now have to go through the cafeteria in my sweaty workout clothes, just as I'd been trying to avoid. Unfortunately, because I was thinking about that little unpleasantness, I failed to realize that I would, of course, need a key card in order to exit the stairwell and therefore enter the cafeteria. I did realize this as soon as I walked the three flights of stairs to the locked door, however.
So, I had to find my way out of the stairwell and into the parking garage, again, walk down the parking garage and out to the front of the building, again, and get the receptionist to let me into the lobby, again. I was actually enjoying myself by this point! As soon as I walked into the main lobby, the receptionist reminded me that I would need to take the elevators in order to reach the cafeteria without a key card, and I thanked her for delivering that information that would have been so useful five minutes earlier. But, after passing through the cafeteria, and enduring some disgusted stares, I finally made it back into the gym, and managed to open my locker. I almost danced the Dance of Joy on the spot.
But after my shower, as I was getting dressed, I realized something important. After that whole ridiculous comedy of errors that was my Monday morning, I felt great. I was happy. I wasn't frustrated or upset or irritated or anxious or any of the things I would've predicted I'd have felt after going through all of this. Throughout the entire ordeal, I naturally responded in a completely different way than I normally would have, without trying to. I had Brightsided my way through a rather hellish Monday morning and into a fabulous mood, without having to think about it once.
And here I thought this day couldn't get any better.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Hurt...
I faced a big test today. And I failed it.
I started a fight with Her. I had a pretty good idea how she'd respond, and I had a pretty good idea that I wouldn't like it, but I set her up, anyways. I served her the line, and she hit it back to me in the exact way I knew she would, and then I got mad at her for it. Her response was hurtful, true, but I shouldn't have gotten angry with her for it. And I definitely shouldn't have yelled at her for it. Especially since I saw it coming from a mile away. I knew it was coming, so I had every opportunity to prepare myself to respond appropriately. But I didn't.
Instead, I yelled at her, and hurt her back. I failed. I failed Her, and I failed myself.
When someone I care about hurts me (which is redundant - I can't be hurt by someone I don't already care about first), I don't actually feel hurt. Because feeling hurt is a vulnerable feeling; a weak feeling. Instead, I skip straight over "hurt" and go right to "angry." Because "angry" is a strong feeling - a powerful feeling. When someone hurts me, I feel attacked by them. And so I respond by attacking them right back. I stand up for myself. I defend myself. The last thing I'm going to do in that situation is roll over and expose my belly and take it, suck it up, allow them to continue hurting me. This behavior was ingrained in me by years of childhood abuse, at the hands of people I cared about - my mother, especially, but also the childhood bullies, who were invariably the "cool kids" that I wanted so much to like me. But that's an explanation, not an excuse. Knowing why I do it doesn't make it okay.
Because this behavior hurts the people I care about. And there's just no reason for it. I'm hurt and I'm scared. I'm hurt by what you did, and I'm scared that you can hurt me. What's wrong with that? Why can't I just say that? Why can't I just feel that? Why do I have to jump straight to this macho "You can't hurt me!" place, like you're some asshole bully trying to make me feel like I'm nothing - like I'm completely powerless - as though you weren't, in reality, someone I care very deeply for, who means a great deal to me, and who simply made a mistake?
I'm trying. That's all I can do. I'm trying. I really am.
I didn't recognize what I was doing in the moment, and in that I failed. I allowed myself to fall back into old, destructive habits, and in that I failed. I hurt Her, and in that I failed. But as soon as it was over - as soon as we walked away - I looked back at everything I had said and done, and it all became clear to me. And I immediately apologized for it. Before now, I would've held onto that anger, allowed it to fuel my sense of self-righteousness. But today, almost the instant it began to wane, I let it all go. And I allowed myself to feel, simply, hurt. It's far from perfect, but it's still an undeniable improvement.
I'm not giving myself any credit for this here. I still failed, and I still have a lot of work to do. I'm just trying to take an honest assessment of myself. Nothing is entirely good, and nothing is entirely bad. Everything is both good and bad. I failed, but I learned. I hurt her, but I quickly realized my mistake and stopped doing it. And next time, I will try to do better.
That's all I can do.
I started a fight with Her. I had a pretty good idea how she'd respond, and I had a pretty good idea that I wouldn't like it, but I set her up, anyways. I served her the line, and she hit it back to me in the exact way I knew she would, and then I got mad at her for it. Her response was hurtful, true, but I shouldn't have gotten angry with her for it. And I definitely shouldn't have yelled at her for it. Especially since I saw it coming from a mile away. I knew it was coming, so I had every opportunity to prepare myself to respond appropriately. But I didn't.
Instead, I yelled at her, and hurt her back. I failed. I failed Her, and I failed myself.
When someone I care about hurts me (which is redundant - I can't be hurt by someone I don't already care about first), I don't actually feel hurt. Because feeling hurt is a vulnerable feeling; a weak feeling. Instead, I skip straight over "hurt" and go right to "angry." Because "angry" is a strong feeling - a powerful feeling. When someone hurts me, I feel attacked by them. And so I respond by attacking them right back. I stand up for myself. I defend myself. The last thing I'm going to do in that situation is roll over and expose my belly and take it, suck it up, allow them to continue hurting me. This behavior was ingrained in me by years of childhood abuse, at the hands of people I cared about - my mother, especially, but also the childhood bullies, who were invariably the "cool kids" that I wanted so much to like me. But that's an explanation, not an excuse. Knowing why I do it doesn't make it okay.
Because this behavior hurts the people I care about. And there's just no reason for it. I'm hurt and I'm scared. I'm hurt by what you did, and I'm scared that you can hurt me. What's wrong with that? Why can't I just say that? Why can't I just feel that? Why do I have to jump straight to this macho "You can't hurt me!" place, like you're some asshole bully trying to make me feel like I'm nothing - like I'm completely powerless - as though you weren't, in reality, someone I care very deeply for, who means a great deal to me, and who simply made a mistake?
I'm trying. That's all I can do. I'm trying. I really am.
I didn't recognize what I was doing in the moment, and in that I failed. I allowed myself to fall back into old, destructive habits, and in that I failed. I hurt Her, and in that I failed. But as soon as it was over - as soon as we walked away - I looked back at everything I had said and done, and it all became clear to me. And I immediately apologized for it. Before now, I would've held onto that anger, allowed it to fuel my sense of self-righteousness. But today, almost the instant it began to wane, I let it all go. And I allowed myself to feel, simply, hurt. It's far from perfect, but it's still an undeniable improvement.
I'm not giving myself any credit for this here. I still failed, and I still have a lot of work to do. I'm just trying to take an honest assessment of myself. Nothing is entirely good, and nothing is entirely bad. Everything is both good and bad. I failed, but I learned. I hurt her, but I quickly realized my mistake and stopped doing it. And next time, I will try to do better.
That's all I can do.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Kentucky's Finest...
I had my last drink of bourbon for a good, long while last night.
Made sure it was a good one to go out on, too. Pappy Van Winkle's 12 year-old Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey, Special Reserve. Charred oak and molasses, with some notes of vanilla on the finish. A damn fine whiskey. I'm not really going to miss much about drinking during this upcoming period of personal prohibition, but I am really, really going to miss bourbon.
And it honestly has nothing to do with the drunk of it. When it comes to the inebriation of the drink, bourbon is hardly my favorite. I don't hate it, but it just makes me kind of relaxed and sleepy; it's nothing special. When it comes to drinking for the feeling of it, I much prefer vodka, tequila, red wine, or even scotch over bourbon.
No, what I'm going to miss about bourbon, is the taste. It's the only alcohol I drink almost entirely just for the taste of it. (Though a fine cognac can be really delicious, as well.) It's the taste of a Summer's night at the cabin by the lake. Woodsmoke and caramel. Oak and cedar and hazelnut and charred barleycorn. To me, the taste of a good bourbon - and I'm talking a good bourbon here, not Jim Beam or Bullitt or some rotgut like that - is one of life's greatest pleasures. And I know this Summer is going to feel the lesser for its absence from my palette.
But I'm prepared for that. And I'm okay with it. Because what I'm going to gain through this sacrifice is worth a lot more to me. Giving up one pleasure, temporarily - even one that I enjoy as much as I do a glass of Kentucky's finest - is a ridiculously small price to pay to stop feeling like a drunk.
Wish me luck.
Made sure it was a good one to go out on, too. Pappy Van Winkle's 12 year-old Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey, Special Reserve. Charred oak and molasses, with some notes of vanilla on the finish. A damn fine whiskey. I'm not really going to miss much about drinking during this upcoming period of personal prohibition, but I am really, really going to miss bourbon.
And it honestly has nothing to do with the drunk of it. When it comes to the inebriation of the drink, bourbon is hardly my favorite. I don't hate it, but it just makes me kind of relaxed and sleepy; it's nothing special. When it comes to drinking for the feeling of it, I much prefer vodka, tequila, red wine, or even scotch over bourbon.
No, what I'm going to miss about bourbon, is the taste. It's the only alcohol I drink almost entirely just for the taste of it. (Though a fine cognac can be really delicious, as well.) It's the taste of a Summer's night at the cabin by the lake. Woodsmoke and caramel. Oak and cedar and hazelnut and charred barleycorn. To me, the taste of a good bourbon - and I'm talking a good bourbon here, not Jim Beam or Bullitt or some rotgut like that - is one of life's greatest pleasures. And I know this Summer is going to feel the lesser for its absence from my palette.
But I'm prepared for that. And I'm okay with it. Because what I'm going to gain through this sacrifice is worth a lot more to me. Giving up one pleasure, temporarily - even one that I enjoy as much as I do a glass of Kentucky's finest - is a ridiculously small price to pay to stop feeling like a drunk.
Wish me luck.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
My Precious...
I keep forgetting that this all started with Her.
Amid all the psychodrama and melodramatic, existential bullshit at my latest rock bottom, I keep losing sight of how I ended up there in the first place. Of the reason why I started running head-long toward the dark at the end of the tunnel at all. And equally, in the effervescence of all of my recently re-discovered joys, in the heady excitement of my bright, shiny new serenity, I also keep losing sight of the fact that, that reason is now gone. That I got what I wanted all along.
That I'm so in love with Her.
Yes, it's Spring, and that certainly has to be factored into the equation. But that doesn't make anything I'm feeling less relevant, or any less real. For months, and maybe longer, I felt like I'd lost her. (I realize now, I'd actually lost myself.) I couldn't find any reason to be with her, except momentum. I couldn't find any joy in her company, in her touch, or in her place in my life. I realize now that I couldn't find any joy in anything in my life just then, but at the time I was completely focused on her. I thought that We were the problem, that something was wrong with Us that needed to be fixed. That if she could only change, or if I could only learn to be happy without the things I felt I needed from her, then everything would be better. But it never was. It was never good enough. Nothing was ever good enough. And I only ended up more unhappy, and more lost.
I believe my biggest flaw (and I have so many), is how I respond in these situations. When I cannot find joy in my life, when I feel lost and alone, when I begin to struggle to find a reason to keep going, I force-feed myself artificial pleasure in the form of deadly poisons. Now, to be fair, most of the time it's not like that. In fact, I'd say 99% of the time it's just a little here, a little there - just having a good time and blowing off a little steam. And nothing that's even really dangerous, let alone deadly. Under any other circumstance, it's all innocent and under control. No, not "under control," because the truth is that for most of the time, there's nothing there that even needs to be controlled in the first place. But then there's that fatal 1% of the time, when I feel like I have nothing. And believing I have nothing, and feeling that it's all downhill from there anyways, then I might as well enjoy the ride. And that's when I push the plunger on my self-destruct button.
And that's exactly what I did here. I'd made her my entire life, in about the most self-destructive, co-dependent manner imaginable. And so when I felt like I'd lost her, I felt like I'd lost everything. I hadn't, but I couldn't see that from the bottom of the hole I had dug myself into. And when I finally hit bottom, I wasn't even thinking of saving myself from myself. I still hadn't even realized that I was the problem. I thought I was trying to save my marriage. I thought I was trying to find a way to live with her. But I was just trying to find a way to live.
And now I'm so happy, and so overjoyed with every second of every day, blah blah blah. The high of the near-death experience. And it's all such a big distraction, so constantly overwhelming, that I keep forgetting to pay attention specifically to all that I've re-gained with her.
My heart beats faster when I think of her now. It actually skips when she kisses me. Can you fucking believe that? I didn't think that was possible anymore! Everything she does makes me happy right now. Even the things I used to think I couldn't stand. I don't know how I ever felt any other way than I do right now. I'm so grateful for the gift of her life, and the fact that she actually, improbably, inexplicably, wants to share it with me. I look forward to seeing her every day in a way I only distantly remember feeling, long ago. I ache softly inside when I have to leave her. When I make her laugh, I own the fucking world. And when my hands are on her hips, and I pull her to me, and feel every curve of her pressed against my body, I am lost again. But no longer in darkness. Lost in the cloudy depths of her palest-blue eyes. Lost in the scent of her skin. Lost in my lust to reunite with the other half of me. Lost in the warm, comfortable weight of the life we've made, wrapped around us, holding us tightly together. Lost in my joy of Her.
I hold no delusions that this will last forever. Rule #1: everything, everyone, everywhere, ends. But because I know that right now, I am more grateful than I ever thought possible, for every single second I get to be with her. And I remember now, what I had so tragically forgotten:
That She is the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me.
And that no matter whatever else I may be in my life, the one and only thing I will always be, forever, is Her's.
Amid all the psychodrama and melodramatic, existential bullshit at my latest rock bottom, I keep losing sight of how I ended up there in the first place. Of the reason why I started running head-long toward the dark at the end of the tunnel at all. And equally, in the effervescence of all of my recently re-discovered joys, in the heady excitement of my bright, shiny new serenity, I also keep losing sight of the fact that, that reason is now gone. That I got what I wanted all along.
That I'm so in love with Her.
Yes, it's Spring, and that certainly has to be factored into the equation. But that doesn't make anything I'm feeling less relevant, or any less real. For months, and maybe longer, I felt like I'd lost her. (I realize now, I'd actually lost myself.) I couldn't find any reason to be with her, except momentum. I couldn't find any joy in her company, in her touch, or in her place in my life. I realize now that I couldn't find any joy in anything in my life just then, but at the time I was completely focused on her. I thought that We were the problem, that something was wrong with Us that needed to be fixed. That if she could only change, or if I could only learn to be happy without the things I felt I needed from her, then everything would be better. But it never was. It was never good enough. Nothing was ever good enough. And I only ended up more unhappy, and more lost.
I believe my biggest flaw (and I have so many), is how I respond in these situations. When I cannot find joy in my life, when I feel lost and alone, when I begin to struggle to find a reason to keep going, I force-feed myself artificial pleasure in the form of deadly poisons. Now, to be fair, most of the time it's not like that. In fact, I'd say 99% of the time it's just a little here, a little there - just having a good time and blowing off a little steam. And nothing that's even really dangerous, let alone deadly. Under any other circumstance, it's all innocent and under control. No, not "under control," because the truth is that for most of the time, there's nothing there that even needs to be controlled in the first place. But then there's that fatal 1% of the time, when I feel like I have nothing. And believing I have nothing, and feeling that it's all downhill from there anyways, then I might as well enjoy the ride. And that's when I push the plunger on my self-destruct button.
And that's exactly what I did here. I'd made her my entire life, in about the most self-destructive, co-dependent manner imaginable. And so when I felt like I'd lost her, I felt like I'd lost everything. I hadn't, but I couldn't see that from the bottom of the hole I had dug myself into. And when I finally hit bottom, I wasn't even thinking of saving myself from myself. I still hadn't even realized that I was the problem. I thought I was trying to save my marriage. I thought I was trying to find a way to live with her. But I was just trying to find a way to live.
And now I'm so happy, and so overjoyed with every second of every day, blah blah blah. The high of the near-death experience. And it's all such a big distraction, so constantly overwhelming, that I keep forgetting to pay attention specifically to all that I've re-gained with her.
My heart beats faster when I think of her now. It actually skips when she kisses me. Can you fucking believe that? I didn't think that was possible anymore! Everything she does makes me happy right now. Even the things I used to think I couldn't stand. I don't know how I ever felt any other way than I do right now. I'm so grateful for the gift of her life, and the fact that she actually, improbably, inexplicably, wants to share it with me. I look forward to seeing her every day in a way I only distantly remember feeling, long ago. I ache softly inside when I have to leave her. When I make her laugh, I own the fucking world. And when my hands are on her hips, and I pull her to me, and feel every curve of her pressed against my body, I am lost again. But no longer in darkness. Lost in the cloudy depths of her palest-blue eyes. Lost in the scent of her skin. Lost in my lust to reunite with the other half of me. Lost in the warm, comfortable weight of the life we've made, wrapped around us, holding us tightly together. Lost in my joy of Her.
I hold no delusions that this will last forever. Rule #1: everything, everyone, everywhere, ends. But because I know that right now, I am more grateful than I ever thought possible, for every single second I get to be with her. And I remember now, what I had so tragically forgotten:
That She is the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me.
And that no matter whatever else I may be in my life, the one and only thing I will always be, forever, is Her's.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Sitting In Stillness...
Finally meditated again this afternoon.
I've been wanting to meditate for over a week now. But my altar and my cushions were all covered in a thick layer of dust. (How's that for a metaphor?) And it's been hard to find the time this week to clean everything and get it all ready to be used again. But today I had plenty of time, and there was nothing I wanted to do more. So I took it all apart, cleaned everything until it was looking like new, and then set it all back up.
It felt so good to be sitting there again, counting my breaths. A little strange, only because it's been so long, but also so intimately comfortable and familiar, because I've spent so much of my life that way now at this point. Kind of like putting on your favorite old pair of jeans after not wearing them for a couple of years.
I've decided to do things a little differently this time around; we'll see how it goes. In the past, I've set aside a certain amount of time for meditating - 15 minutes, 20, 30, an hour, whatever - and used a timer to tell me when that set time period is up. I actually have a special meditation timer just for that purpose. When the chimes sound, it's time to stop meditating. But I've decided not to do that this time. Somehow, it just feels too rigid and boxed-in.
Instead, I've decided to just meditate until I feel the desire to stop. Maybe sometimes I'll stop after a certain number of breaths. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when my back can't take it anymore, and the pain gets too intense. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I get distracted and lose focus. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I just feel the time is right to stop. Who knows? The point is, that each meditation will be unique, and each experience will be dictated more by the feeling of the flow of Tao within me, than by whatever my brain decides is the most appropriate time to put on the clock.
Still, I'm curious to know how much time I spend meditating in each session. So, I'm still using my meditation clock. But now, instead of an alarm counting down, it's a timer, counting up.
Once I'd settled into position and gotten into a rhythm of counting my breaths, and begun to relax, it was just like riding a biker. It felt like I've been doing it my whole life. There was nothing that seemed to indicate that it had actually been almost a year since I'd last meditated. And it just felt so good. And so right. So peaceful and serene. So calm and quiet. So empty and relaxed. I knew I'd missed these feelings, but it took being there again to really bring home to me just how much I'd missed them.
I stopped after 181 breaths. Seemed like a nice, prime number. Also felt like I'd about hit my physical limit; my back was starting to hurt pretty bad on every inhalation. When my eyes had adjusted to the light again, I checked the clock, and found I had been sitting there in stillness for just over half an hour. Double the amount of time I used to spend in a typical session. And basically effortless compared to the half-hour sessions I used to do, where I would have to push myself to get through it, always waiting for those chimes to sound, always wondering how long it had been so far, always "surely my half hour must be up by now!" But this time, without that predetermined finish line to push towards, there was nothing for me to do but simply let go, and relax, and breathe, and be still.
I can't wait to do it again tomorrow.
I've been wanting to meditate for over a week now. But my altar and my cushions were all covered in a thick layer of dust. (How's that for a metaphor?) And it's been hard to find the time this week to clean everything and get it all ready to be used again. But today I had plenty of time, and there was nothing I wanted to do more. So I took it all apart, cleaned everything until it was looking like new, and then set it all back up.
It felt so good to be sitting there again, counting my breaths. A little strange, only because it's been so long, but also so intimately comfortable and familiar, because I've spent so much of my life that way now at this point. Kind of like putting on your favorite old pair of jeans after not wearing them for a couple of years.
I've decided to do things a little differently this time around; we'll see how it goes. In the past, I've set aside a certain amount of time for meditating - 15 minutes, 20, 30, an hour, whatever - and used a timer to tell me when that set time period is up. I actually have a special meditation timer just for that purpose. When the chimes sound, it's time to stop meditating. But I've decided not to do that this time. Somehow, it just feels too rigid and boxed-in.
Instead, I've decided to just meditate until I feel the desire to stop. Maybe sometimes I'll stop after a certain number of breaths. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when my back can't take it anymore, and the pain gets too intense. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I get distracted and lose focus. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I just feel the time is right to stop. Who knows? The point is, that each meditation will be unique, and each experience will be dictated more by the feeling of the flow of Tao within me, than by whatever my brain decides is the most appropriate time to put on the clock.
Still, I'm curious to know how much time I spend meditating in each session. So, I'm still using my meditation clock. But now, instead of an alarm counting down, it's a timer, counting up.
Once I'd settled into position and gotten into a rhythm of counting my breaths, and begun to relax, it was just like riding a biker. It felt like I've been doing it my whole life. There was nothing that seemed to indicate that it had actually been almost a year since I'd last meditated. And it just felt so good. And so right. So peaceful and serene. So calm and quiet. So empty and relaxed. I knew I'd missed these feelings, but it took being there again to really bring home to me just how much I'd missed them.
I stopped after 181 breaths. Seemed like a nice, prime number. Also felt like I'd about hit my physical limit; my back was starting to hurt pretty bad on every inhalation. When my eyes had adjusted to the light again, I checked the clock, and found I had been sitting there in stillness for just over half an hour. Double the amount of time I used to spend in a typical session. And basically effortless compared to the half-hour sessions I used to do, where I would have to push myself to get through it, always waiting for those chimes to sound, always wondering how long it had been so far, always "surely my half hour must be up by now!" But this time, without that predetermined finish line to push towards, there was nothing for me to do but simply let go, and relax, and breathe, and be still.
I can't wait to do it again tomorrow.
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