Wag the dog...

Dearest B.,

One of my paternal uncles died last week on Sunday and I attended his memorial service last Saturday with the sis and my brother-in-law. I had mixed feelings about attending. However, in retrospect I’m extremely happy that I chose to attend the service.

I have been telling friends, or anyone who will listen for that matter, that there are few things in my life I can say I regret. However, while listening to my aunt give part of the eulogy I can now say there is something that I truly regret. And this is the fact that I didn’t make an effort to keep in touch with my Uncle W. and get to know him better when my parents divorced. He was a very cool man.

Let me see if I can explain.

As Aunt J. was giving her portion of the eulogy she shared some of her memories of uncle W. with the attendees of the service. As she went down the list of things about her brother that she loved and admired most, it was as if she was reading a list of characteristics about me.

She said as a child she loved to watch him “doodle” on pieces of paper drawing caricatures of fellow members of the high school baseball team. She mentioned that she admired his skill as she didn’t have it. While I don’t practice nearly as often as I might, I have the natural ability to draw as well and loved to draw as a child.

She shared that he had the most amazing sense of humor and loved to make others laugh. That he had a way of relaying a story of something that may have happened to him with impeccable delivery and in a way that always made whoever heard the story laugh with delight. I too have such a sense of humor and love to make others laugh and feel good.

One of the things Aunt J. said she admired the most about her brother was that he was generous to a fault. When he and his second wife moved to Myrtle Beach, he built a guest apartment on the property and it was always there a welcome for anyone who wished to visit. If anyone needed assistance in any way, and if he was able, he never hesitated to lend a hand. I too am generous to a fault. Often giving of myself and my time far more often than might be good for me, however, I could not imagine being any other way.

As Aunt J. continued to deliver her eulogy, and explain how Uncle W. had taken an interest in intarsia it became evermore apparent at the depths of his generosity. As she concluded her story about his interest in the woodworking technique by telling the attendees  that Uncle W. had made pieces for each of his siblings and their children.

It was then I began to sob.

When Aunt J. called the names for the bag that was for the sis and me, I walked up and the got bag for us. When I returned to my seat and opened the bag and retrieved my piece. I was greeted with the face in the photo above. That of a golden retriever—once again I burst into tears.

While Uncle W. had no way of knowing it, I have a bit of connection with golden retrievers. As a friend of mine who shares his name used to have two golden retrievers and has a tile on his kitchen counter with an image that is very similar to the piece of intarsia Uncle W. gave to me.

After she finished distributing the pieces of work to everyone, Aunt J. requested that everyone leave their pieces in the sanctuary so that anyone who wished to view them might do so. As everyone made their way down to the basement to have lunch, I stayed behind to view the pieces that Uncle W. had made.

While I viewed the various pieces that he’d made all sorts of memories came flooding into my consciousness. An image of a clown reminding me of my fear of clowns as a child. Stained glass with praying hands which brought to mind a drawing of the same in the house of his sister. A marlin,  a nearly perfect copy in miniature of one Uncle W. had on the wall of his den when I was child. With which of course I was utterly fascinated.

As I was getting into my truck to leave the memorial service, my brother-in-law asked what I thought the significance of the pieces that Uncle W. gave us might be. I told him our uncle hadn’t seen the sis and me in many years, so ours were most likely just random. I mentioned, however, that mine didn’t seem so random to me. And mentioned that my friend W. had golden retrievers at one time and was always telling me about them. So for me, the gift from Uncle W. was yet another example of the connections made within the collective unconscious.

On the memory card that was printed for Uncle W.’s memorial service there was this statement, “So if you need me, call and I will come. Though you can’t see or touch me, I’ll be near. And if you listen with your heart, you’ll hear all of my love around you soft and clear.”

I feel you near WGW.

Once again B. I miss you more than words can express.

Hot Butterfly! - Taken by TGL

Dearest D,

I got the most timely of messages (as the Universe always seems to send) the other day in part of an email push. I get daily email blasts from a website called Care2.com. They mined my email address from an e-card I got from a guy several months ago that he sent from their site. Normally, I would be rather pissed by such a circumstance. But, the email newsletters usually have really good information in them. So in the end it works out for the best.

In a newsletter sent out on the 29th of August, there was a link to an articled entitled “Get Closure By Licking an Envelope.” It’s an article about letting go of negative emotions by writing letters and putting them in envelopes and sealing them and the benefits of engaging in such an activity. Of course it made me think of you and the letters I’ve been writing to you.

There is a part of me who once again believes it’s time to stop writing letters to you. That perhaps by engaging in the activity, I’m keeping the negative emotions that I have attached to the memories of you alive and feeding energetically. However, there is also a part of me that doesn’t want to let go of you. Let go of the feelings of how much I enjoyed being around you and spending time with you.

In so many ways, I’m truly at a loss…

I want to let go of you but fuck it’s hard. I find myself unable to trust others and believe that I won’t get hurt again.

And of course the Universe, as it always does, seems to be playing with me at the moment. I say this as I’ve had a couple of rather unusual circumstances occur over the past couple of days.

On Monday, somewhat as a joke, and somewhat not, I posted an ad on Craigslist making reference to a line in the song be Ke$ha, Your Love is My Drug. I created a post with the title “Make My Heart Beat Like An 808 Drum” and in the text of the message made reference to the pet name I used to call you, the fact that your birthday was recently, and asked that you call me. Well. I got one hit from the posting and there was a bit of weird quantum entanglement associated with it.

It was from a guy who responded to the faux personal ad I created on Yahoo! personals to keep track of your activity there. He responded to my posting on Craigslist to say that his birthday was recently, he too just turned 40, and wondered who I might be seeking. I responded with my version of what happened between you and me and he ever so kindly wished for me that my heart might mend and my wish may come true. WTF?

Then today needing a little something-something to ease my bruised heart and my aching loins I put an ad on Craiglist for a quickie. I got a response from a gentleman named A. Who mentioned that he could be over in the afternoon after work if that was good. I responded to the affirmative that the afternoon would work.

He arrived at four and we spent the better part of an hour being sexually playful and enjoying the pleasure of bringing such to each other. I felt such an odd comfort with him. There was a natural flow with the give and take. No nervousness or awkwardness that I typically feel with someone.

He has the most beautiful blue eyes.

After he got dressed and was getting ready to leave, we gave each other a good long bear hug goodbye. He purred into my ear in the most sexy of ways as he pulled away, “I definitely want to see you again.”

“I would like that very much.” I said as I popped the deadbolt lock on the door and opened it for him to head off into the afternoon rush hour.

Perhaps if I’m lucky after all, my wish will come true.

As always sending you much love!

TGL
theghotilover@gmail.com
www.theghotiletters.com

P.S. Got the strangest keyword hit today to the biddy biddy blog. It was “encouraging words to pursue a[n] unavailable lover” I had to chuckle at the irony.

Round in round taken by TGL

Dearest D.,

I thought of you yesterday. Which is hardly different from any other day as it is the rare day I get through without thinking of you on more than one occasion. However, as of late, I think of you with greater frequency than I usually might due to the fact this is the time of year we met two years ago and also, due to the fact that you will be celebrating your birthday in two weeks.

Anniversaries have never been easy for me. It’s interesting for the longest time I never knew that was the case. I was so emotionally shut down and disconnected from myself I wasn’t able to make the correlation between the feelings I was having and the resulting anxiety associated with them. So I would act out compulsively through seeking sex, alcohol consumption or spending money that I didn’t have. I would do anything to escape the feelings. Of course the irony being I wasn’t even aware of the underlying feelings or the cause of them.

These days I’m usually pretty good about being aware of the feelings and the anniversary of what event may be causing them. I may have a slip into old comforting behaviors. However, where I have growth in regard to this issue is that I’m able to identify the slip and recover more quickly than I used to be able.

It’s funny the Universe always seems to align circumstances just right so I can cross paths with the right person at the right time for whatever message is needed. I had such an experience on Saturday night. I ran out to R. & T.’s to celebrate R.’s birthday. R. invited a guy over (A.) who he’d met on Craiglist about a month ago to be part of the celebration.

As always seems to happen when a bunch of gay men get together, particularly when two of them are single, we began to talk about sex and relationships. A. shared several funny stories about his sexual adventures as of late as well as a bit about a couple of long-term relationship in which he’d been. And while he didn’t share any details about what they may behe mentioned that he’s a pattern person in regard to relationships.

I related all too well to A.’s statement about his relationships as I am a pattern person myself. And you were definitely a manifestation of a well ingrained pattern of mine. That is to say the propensity to get involved with guys who are unavailable in one way or another and typically abusive in one way or another too boot.

With you I certainly picked an exacta as you were both emotionally unavailable and manipulative/abusive. Or perhaps even a trifecta as you threw passive-aggressive behavior into the mix as well. The perfect combination for someone with my well developed pattern for latching onto emotionally stunted social retards. No wonder I fell for you like a ton of bricks anticipating gettin’ laid.

When I think back to so many of the things you said that were not only inappropriate but down right creepy and strange. I have to wonder why? Why did I allow myself to get sucked into your obvious dysfunction and open myself up to you more and more to the point that I fell in love with you? What is there about me that continues to seek out and enjoy such torturous relationships?

It’s funny, but not in a ha ha kind of way, as of late the Queen of Wands has been showing up with great frequency in my Tarot readings. What she’s representing is rather interesting. The Queen of Wands is all about magnetism (sexual and otherwise). She’s a reminder to not deny oneself pleasure and accomplishment. In other words, she encourages living in a way and engaging in relationships that are the polar opposite of what I experienced with you.

So what the Queen of Wands encourages me to do is to open myself to the possibility of (and to pursue) relationships with individuals who are healthy and whole. Guys with whom I can be myself without worry of judgment and enjoy sex without guilt and shame.  But instead I continue to go round and round with the circle game that I’ve played for so many years with myself.

Instead, I constantly think of you. How much I wanted (and continue to want) to be a part of your life. And even though you’d never acknowledge or probably even open it or read it, I want to make and send you another birthday card this year. I continue to think daily of your game playing and dishonesty and wonder why I would want to be involved with a guy who behaves in such a dysfunctional manner?

Today I listened to several back episodes of Polyamory Weekly as I’m trying to work my way through all the back catalog of the podcast and get current. In one episode, a guest explained that there are times we fall in love with people who are not good for us and we have to learn to accept it. Hearing that discussion could not have been more timely for me. You so obviously were not good for me; I need to accept that fact.

Accept that in some strange way the Universe was ensuring my best interest in engineering the blow up between us. Otherwise, I’d still be hanging around with you every weekend, trading several emails a day with you, and all the while clinging to the desperate hope you’d some day come to realize how perfect I’d be as your boyfriend.

Yeah right!

As always, sending you much love!

TGL
theghotilover@gmail.com
www.theghotiletters.com ]]> http://www.theghotiletters.com/l2d/l2d08102010-the-circle-game/feed/ 1 http://www.theghotiletters.com/l2r/l2r07312010-ftw-my-fine-furry-friend/ http://www.theghotiletters.com/l2r/l2r07312010-ftw-my-fine-furry-friend/#comments Sun, 01 Aug 2010 02:56:49 +0000 The Ghoti Lover http://www.theghotiletters.com/?p=2693

What you lookin' at?

Dearest R.,

Last week I had to make the difficult decision to send the dear Jakemeister to the big cat nip patch in the sky. Man it was far more difficult than I thought it might be given that I’d done it twice before. I thought it might be easier. It wasn’t.

Last Monday after feeding Jake his evening meal he began to behave rather strangely. While lying in front of his water dish drinking, his body suddenly went stiff and his tail became bushy. After he finished drinking and while standing close to me I noticed his head was cocked to one side in a rather unusual manner. I picked him up for a few minutes and held him. Upon putting him down whatever had happened seemed to have passed and he appeared to be okay.

I called the veterinarian shortly thereafter and made the appointment of have him euthanized. Then called my boss to let her know I’d be late the following morning and why.

Of course when I awoke the next morning to check on him, he was standing in the kitchen peering up at me and greeted me with a chipper “good-morning” meow. As if to say, “Look at me, I’m feeling fine!” I patted him on his head and said, “Please don’t do this to me sweetie. Here let me give you breakfast.” So I put a large handful of dried food in his dish for him to munch as I made breakfast for myself.

Like humans with terminal illness, it’s quite common for animals to exhibit what appears to be a miraculous recovery. I can remember when my former room mate was dying the same thing happened. When he was admitted to the hospice he was barely able to breathe and stay present. When I visited him a few weeks later, he was sitting up in the bed and engaging in conversation with everyone as if nothing was wrong. When I spoke the nurse who was caring for him I asked her about it. She explained that it often happens. As death gets closer the individual has a short period of what appears to be recovery. I’m told the same thing happened with my father shortly before he died of cancer.

After finishing breakfast and taking care of the morning grooming for the human, I retrieved the pet crate from the walk in closet and put it together to assist me in taking Jake to the vet’s office for his last visit. I retrieve the dear old puss from the kitchen and placed him (much against his will) into the carrier, grabbed my bag and the keys to the truck and headed out the door of the apartment. I locked the deadbolt lock, headed down the stairs, out the front door and into the morning sunshine.

As I placed the carrier on the tool box in the back of the pickup to allow me the ability to open the passenger’s side of the vehicle, Jake was making his displeasure known by meowing at the top of this lungs. I placed the crate on the seat of the passenger’s side, shut the door and made my way to the driver’s side of the truck. As I opened the driver’s side door, I could smell the familiar odor of cat poop. “Jake.” I sighed, “You couldn’t have made this anymore difficult could you?” I pulled the truck up next to the dumpster, found a stray Taco Bell napkin in the glove box, scooped the offending turd from the carrier and dropped it into the dumpster.

Moments later after having arrived at the vet’s office and having filled out the required paper work. I was in the examining room and speaking with the veterinarian technician, Ashley, a sweet young woman with a kind face and disposition to match.

“It says here you’ve scheduled a PT. Are we still planning to do so?”

“Yes.” I said. And explained the details of Jake’s seizure the night before and the fact that he’d developed peripheral neuropathy in his rear legs and as a result could only make it to the litter box half the time. Plus he’d also developed sleep related incontinence.

Ashley put the crate on the examining table and opened the grate. Jake struggled out of the carrier onto the table to see what was happening. “Looking at him makes me think of my own cats and the fact that I’ll have to do this some day.” Ashley offered with a sad look in her eyes.

“I know,” I offered back, “This is the third time I’ve had to do this and it’s not been any easier each time.”

“Let me grab Jake a blanket. And you can sit and hold him until the doctor is ready. I’ll be back in a sec.” Ashley said as she opened the door from the examining room to the lab area of the clinic.

She returned a few moments later with a tartan plaid blanket in which to wrap Jake along with a diaper pad should he need to go to the bathroom. I took the blanket and pad from Ashley and thanked her.

“The doctor should be ready in about 10 minutes. Just let me know if you need anything.” She said as she disappeared into the lab once again.

About 15 minutes later the doctor appeared through the door from the lab with Ashley, “Hello, I’m Dr. Boughanem.” he said as he entered the examination room. “Good morning, doctor.” I replied. “Of course Jake is now hiding under the chair.”

The doctor smiled and said, “I understand. You know what to expect?” he inquired.

“Yes, I’ve done this twice before.” I said as I fished under the chair to retrieve Jake and hand him to Ashley.

Ashley put a blanket on the examination table and placed Jake upon it. As if resigned to his fate, Jake laid still on the blanket as the doctor prepared him for the injection. Jake flinched slightly when the veterinarian inserted the hypodermic into his left rear paw and started to fight the pain. I got up from my chair and began to stroke Jake’s head and whispered, “Don’t worry Jakie, it’s going to be okay.” He relaxed from the sound of my voice and went limp. As I’d noticed twice before with my two other cats, just before he died he gave a slight struggle and let out his final breath.

The doctor checked Jake’s eyes for response and listened for a heartbeat, then looked at me and said, “He’s gone.”

“Thank you doctor,” I said continuing to stroke Jake’s body.

“Take as long as you need.” The doctor said as he returned to the lab.

“Thank you.” I stammered as tears began to well in my eyes. Ashley popped back into the examination room to quickly drop tissues on the table. “Thank you Ashley.” I whispered as she quickly disappeared. With one last stroke on his head, “Good bye old friend.” I whispered as I dabbed my eyes with a tissue and turned to open the door to the reception area of the clinic.

A little more than a week later, I’ve almost gotten used to him not being here.

Sending you much love!

In the Eye of the Beholder (taken by TGL)

Dearest B.,

What an opportunity the Universe provides presently through C. for me to realize how fortunate am I with the gifts each day brings. I got an SMS from C. late Saturday night week before last to let me know that he’d arrived safely and was relaxing. Upon receiving his text I let out a sigh of relief and bade thanks to the kindness of Mercury for seeing my newfound friend to his destination without harm.

We’ve been communicating since by SMS and voice and all I can think is wow what resilience has this man.

After receiving the messages to let me know that he’d arrived safely, I didn’t hear from C. for a couple of days. I figured he was busy settling in and didn’t have time to check in with me, but by Tuesday last week I became a little concerned and pinged him that evening inquiring as to whether he was within signal range. With Puckish good humor he replied, “It depends upon which tree I stand behind.” It was good to see his sense of humor was holding up as well as his indomitable spirit.

Each time I talk with C. I’m amazed to hear how this particular portion of his life that is the present adventure is a dichotomy of both the wonder and inherent suffering that is the human existence. He is living in a situation that most people would consider to be absolute squalor; however, he’s relayed experiences to me that can only be described at magical.

Late last week, I was sitting in my cube and C. sent me an SMS to requesting that I call him at lunch and said that I should hear and see the amazing birds on the property. I then got an SMS from him a couple of hours later saying that he’d just been strafed by a hummingbird. Shortly thereafter at lunch, I stopped in to the 7-11 at Ballston to put more money on the cell for him and gave him a call to get the skinny.

He said he’d been standing in an exterior doorway of the house checking out a hornet’s nest when a ruby-throated hummingbird buzzed his head. C. said he quickly ducked to avoid the bird, not knowing what just buzzed his head. The bird then hovered about two feet above his head for a few seconds looking down at him in a rather mocking way. C. said he swore he heard the petite creature let out giggle as it flew away with little care after checking out the new neighbor.

I just pulled out my well-worn copy of Animal-Speak by Ted Andrews and looked up hummingbird. What he says for this totem could not anymore aptly speak for the situation in which C. finds himself.

The keynote of the hummingbird is tireless joy and the nectar of life. In speaking of the mystic/esoteric connections of the hummingbird Mr. Andrews states the following.

“There are over 300 species of hummingbirds. This is very significant. In the Hebrew alphabet, the letter “shin” is given the numerical value of 300. This has associations with fire and relationships, the past and the future. This is even reflected in the wing movement of the hummingbird. It has the ability to move its wings in a figure 8 patterna symbol for infinity and links the past and future and the laws of cause and effect.” (p. 57).

As he’s expressed it to me, C.’s experiences currently could not be more a reflection of the power and presence of Hummingbird’s energy that is coursing through his life. He recently relayed a story about a random encounter on his bus ride to Nashville to be retrieved by his new adoptive family that could only described as synchronistic.

During the ride on the bus, he began to talk with a fellow passenger. At some point his newfound compadre saw the second generation iPod Nano C. had with him for entertainment during the ride. The gentleman expressed an interest in the Nano because he liked to collect the older models so he exchanged his first generation iPod Touch for C.’s older Nano and a few other items C. threw in to seal the deal.

After arriving and settling into his new home, if it might be called that, as it sounds to be a ramshackle house that is falling down around him. He parlayed the iPod Touch into a refrigerator, television, two hot plates and DVD player to sustain him for the moment. He’s currently attempting to sell off some of the timber for cash until his next emergency payment shows up from the Veteran’s Administration.

In her book Medicine Cards: The Discovery of Power Through the Ways of Animals that accompanies the card deck of the same name Jamie Sams states.

“In Mayan teachings Hummingbird is connected to the Black Sun and the Fifth World. Hummingbird can give us the medicine to solve the riddle of the contradiction of duality.”

It’s been interesting the past couple of days my daily tarot readings have been about dropping the veil. In many ways the situation C. finds himself in is a similar circumstance. Life is forcing him to stop and take stock of his life and let go of dualistic thinking and begin to integrate his past and present to form a new future.

I think I need to take his example.

Sending you much love!

It's Time to Face the Face

Dearest B.,

I don’t even know where to begin. The experiences of the past 72 hours have left me with a mix of feelings that have proven to be as much a conflagration in the psyche as they have been the delivery vehicle for a very profound epiphany and deeper spiritual awakening within. But as with all tales needing to be told, I guess it’s best to start at the beginning.

As I mentioned in a letter to D. last week, I recently met a gentleman (C.) who is a disabled Marine who had moved to the DC area to live with his daughter in the short-term until his disability payments kicked in full-time. And in doing so, he had hoped to spend some time with her and begin to form the relationship he and she were never able to have while he was on active duty. However it appears the fates conspired to spin a different outcome for C.

Friday morning while leaving for work C.’s daughter told him he was no longer welcome in her home and must be gone before she returned that day. Due the fact he had given the last of his money to his daughter and son-in-law to fix the water pump on their truck and he had yet to receive his emergency payment for living expense from Uncle Sam—he was flat broke. He spent the day trying to find assistance from the Veteran’s Administration as well as a bed for the evening in one of the local homeless shelters.

All to no avail, however, through a strange twist of fate and circumstance that can only be described as an intervention by the Universe he received a call from a Facebook friend and member of his Mafia Wars family offering him the use of her cabin on thirteen acres in Tennessee until he can get his bearings and find his way through the mire of current conditions. He accepted her offer and needed a bus ticket and way to the Greyhound station by the 2:30 a.m. departure time.

I picked him up at 8:20 Friday evening at a Hess Station on Richmond Highway covered with sweat and ticks from his attempted 20 mile walk from Lorton, VA to Washington, DC all the while dragging his half-empty suitcase behind him. Half-way through our trek toward DC we stopped at a Target to buy him provisions for the bus ride. During this detour he mentioned he could use a few pair of shorts and a shower. I told him I had both at my apartment and that we could make another pit stop for each.

We then spent the next few hours together at my apartment with him preparing himself for the bus ride and me buying him the needed ticket on the Greyhound website and making dinner for us to share. It was a moment for him to get a brief glimpse into my world and the objects of importance to me and for him to offer me a couple of gifts to add to this collection in return for my kindness and assistance

As he was rummaging through his half empty suitcase he pulled out a silk covered box and asked if I was familiar with Boading Balls. I told him that I was but had yet to get a pair and learn to use them. He opened the box to reveal a pair of metal balls enameled with an iridescent green—a black dragon on one and a red phoenix on the other.

He snapped the box shut, offered it toward me and said, “Here I want you to have them.”

“No.” I replied. “I can’t take these.”

“Please.” He said, “I want you to have them.”

“Thank you C. “ I said accepting the gift while choking back tears.

He rummaged further through his suitcase and found a black long-sleeved t-shirt and tossed it toward me. “I want you to have this as well.” As I caught the t-shirt and opened it up to read the message on the front a chill ran up my spine. It was for a half marathon in San Francisco. It immediately brought to mind the long-sleeved t-shirt you gave me one evening when I stayed over in your apartment. A shirt, to this day (some nearly 20 years later), I still own and put on when I feel the need to have your spirit close to me.

Two hours later we both choked back the tears as I hugged him good bye leaving him to wait the final hour for the bus to carry him to the desired change of location  in Tennessee and the next part of his journey.

As I began to write this letter last evening, I got an SMS from C. telling me that he was an hour outside of Nashville. That it had been a long day, he was tired and in need of a place to lie down and rest his back. I responded in return that I had no doubt it was the situation. He inquired as to how my day had been. I told him that while I’d not gotten the carpets cleaned in the bedroom as I had wished, I had however gotten many other chores completed. I then asked him about a card he’d given me the night before (the image included with this letter above). I mentioned that it includes Calla Lillies and asked if it was intentional or random. He simply responded with a smiley face emoticon. As with me, the heyoka walks very closely with him as well.

The reason I asked was due to the fact we’d had a couple of conversations about the flowers. However, we’d never discussed the symbolic meaning of them.

I’ve since discovered the meaning of this magnificent flower and it could not be more appropriate with respect to my experience with C. As you see, the Calla Lilly represents rebirth and through the moment I spent with C. on Friday watching him (in real time)  nearly become homeless—I have in a way been reborn.

I say this as I have reached a deeper understanding of how fortunate I am. While my possessions may be meager, I have a home to call my own and a place to lay my head at night without worry and am able to eat every day (often far too well). And through this experience with C. I have been reminded that I need to honor and enjoy each day that I’m given. To not take anything or anyone for granted.

Also, for the longest time I’ve been considering selling the little polymer clay pins I make that look like houses once again and distributing the money to organizations that serve the homeless. Or to create a non-profit organization myself to sell the pins; convert the “profits” from the sales to gift cards; and distribute the gift cards to the homeless. I have secured the domain name for the organization and have plenty of pins pre-made. I just need to get off my lazy ass and create the associated web site and begin to promote it.

Another thing I’ve come to realize as well is that I truly need to let go of the bitterness and anger I continue to feel with regard to what happened with D. I need to realize he did the best he might during the brief moment of our convergence. While he may make grandiose claims of seeking a relationship of an epic nature he may never develop the skills for such. And there is nothing wrong with that—it’s his karma to experience.

My karma on the other hand is to make real my grandiose desire to create a better world and leave a lasting impression of such intent before I leave this plane of existence. I best get started.

I miss you B.

What lies underneath?

Dearest D.,

I was working at home yesterday and listening to Music Choice streaming on the ‘puter as I was working. While doing so, I heard a song that stirred from my subconscious a most familiar feeling. The feelinga simultaneous melding of confusion, attraction, frustration and anger I felt with you while we were doing our little dysfunctional fandango. The song, “Underneath” by Laren Hildebrandt. As I was listening to the song, I nearly laughed out loud on several occasions as the lyrics of the song seemed to perfectly mirror my experience with you.

Through her perfectly crafted little pop ditty, Ms. Hildebrandt sings of her confusion with a gentleman she has met and with whom she’s become heavily infatuated. While on the surface he appears to be the perfect catch as he’s charming (and drives the car that she likes). She comes to suspect that there’s something somewhat amiss with the gentleman and that “it lies in his eyes” and that he may be playing games with her heart.

Sound familiar?

A favorite lyric, “He won’t even kiss me good-bye.” Been there done that.

She soon comes to realize that underneath the pretty packaging there’s nothing inside. Can you relate?

While I was listening to the song yesterday on Music Choice and several times thereafter on YouTube, I was struck with just how little of anything you presented about yourself to me as truth was in fact such. Like the gentleman about whom Ms. Hildebrandt sings with you, underneath the pretty wrapper there was nothing inside.

When you were speaking with me, you spoke in such eloquent tones about taking care of yourself so as to be available to me. How you’d joined a naturist/nudist group to “work on your issues concerning body image”. Talked in terms of being environmentally and socially aware, it’s regretful you weren’t as nearly self-aware.

Ms. Hildebrandt sings.

“You tried to play me like I was your fool
It’s true I never knew love with you
How long would you have continued playing with my heart?”

And of course, like the gentleman of whom she sings you did try your best to play me like I was your fool. The funny thing is I pretty much figured out your game from the very beginning. However, the most vexing thing in regard to my own behavior (when I take the moment to examine it) is why I allowed myself to play the game with you for so long?

I guess if take moment and consider it at great length it had to do with ego attachment. The need to believe I had in some manner or ability the power to enlighten you or awaken you from your obvious somnambulistic state. Like anyone might really have such a power as first they’d have to break through the several-layered coat of veneer composed of bitterness, anger and resentment you wear with an obvious sense of misguided pride. Perhaps some day you may gain the slightest awareness of yourself that you assume yourself to already posses.

I had the most interesting experience the weekend past which has lead to a kind of ironic dichotomy in my mind in regard to you and the image you present(ed) versus your core personality. Again, that is to say the image of a self-assured, self-aware person you presented to me (and no doubt the any number gentlemen you’ve attempted to charm since you told me to get lost), and the insecure and emotionally-stunted individual beneath the self-created  façade.

As I mentioned in my prior letter to you, I placed an ad on Craigslist last week in the “Misc. Romance” section seeking a connection with a guy of a more long-term basis rather than seeking my typical hook up. Roughly,  I got a few more than a half a dozen responses (which surprised me). Ironically, a couple of them were from guys with whom I’d already either met or hooked up. One of whom I mentioned that reminds me a great deal of you. It turns out in more way than one as he’s been amazingly non-committal about getting together (but I digress).

However, I met a gentleman last Saturday who answered the advert and might best be described as a contradiction in terms. He’s a disabled Marine who’s served in several troubled spots around the globe for nearly 30 years. The last of which was a tour in Afghanistan that left him with a spinal column broken in 12 places from surviving the blast of a suicide bomber. The recovery from the blast being nearly two years spent in various hospitals recovering from the wounds and now in nearly constant pain as a result.

If anyone might have a right (if you will) to be angry and resentful it would be he as opposed to a spoiled, middle-class, suburbanite brat such as yourself who fancies himself a champion of social justice but hasn’t the balls to pull it off. However, the amazing part, he’s not angry or resentful. While he’s got the typical roughed edges from being a career Marine, he’s got the most amazing rebellious (but gentle and grounded) spirit of anyone I’ve met in quite a long time.

And due to living the life of a career leatherneck his body currently shows all the abuses. From the scar in the skin atop his skull (and the fracture beneath) to teeth missing from his jaws (nearly half of them shattered in the most recent blast survived). However, underneath the tattered wrapper beats a heart of gold with enough positive energy to light the City of Ember.

It’s funny in him the Universe has delivered pretty much what I requested in my advert. My call through cyberspace was for someone who’s between an aenigma and an avatar. And he is very much that.

So I have to wonder. Why do I feel so uneasy about the situation?

As always, sending you much love!

The Good, the Bad and the WTF?

Dearest D.,

I had the most interesting tête à tête weekend last with a fellow netizen. I stumbled upon a posting on craigslist that had your signature written all through the text. Perhaps it was you, or perhaps it was the twin son of a different mother who birthed upon this fair planet yet another pompously pretentious, clueless, self-appointed, so called guardian of the faith similar to yourself.

The post I came upon was written to chastise another individual who has commented on the activities of a regular poster in the “Strictly Platonic” M4M section of the site. The cross poster throughout his or her punitive diatribe attempted to make the case that the individual who called into question the activities of the regular poster was mean spirited and lacking in self awareness. And of course by the end of the aforementioned diatribe, made themselves look like as much, if not more, of the asshole they claimed the other person to be. Classic!

I of course upon reading the words “mean spirited” thought of you and the time you accused me of being such in a phone convo. Which at the time was as laughable to me as seeing the phrase used by a poster to berate another while being mean spirited themselves. It’s regretful that one doesn’t need to be a member of Mensa to use the interwebs.

The funniest thing about the interchange I had with the netizen who reminded me a great deal of you was the fact he or she spoke of how hilarious the lack of awareness and mean spiritedness of the person being admonished. When I pointed to the fact the hilarity of the situation was more that he or she was pointing the finger at another while being the same and stated perhaps the joke might be on he or she. This was met with ever more belligerent words claiming I was the joke. This due to the fact the poster assumed I was the individual he or she was chastising.

This brief, but all too familiar interchange, brought to the forefront of my mind memories of you and similar exchanges you and I had in the past.

At one moment in an email exchange you accused me of “putting words in your mouth”, but in a following email exchange used words of mine from previous emails out of context and essentially engaged in the exact behavior of which you accused me.You would often draw conclusions from the simplified and absolute moralistic viewpoint of things being either “good” or “bad”. I can only assume you did such as an attempt to bastardize  the philosophies of New Thought thinkers repackaged as The Secret by Rhonda Byrne. I say this given you made statements while we where together in real time that were obviously gleaned from either the DVD or the book.

What I find hilarious in this is that you exhibited the all too familiar psychological phenomenon known as the just-world effect in yet another way than the one I mentioned to you in a previous letter. Individuals engage in this behavior to comfort themselves and rationalize the feelings they have as a result  of the awareness that they are not able to control all the circumstances and outcomes of life thereby creating a false sense of safety.

My own personal feeling in this is that many people use the just-world fallacy as technique to lessen the anxiety they feel for being assholes themselves. It’s always simpler to look at others and blame/accuse them of being the cause of one’s anxiety rather then search for the inner cause of it. That certainly appeared to be the case with you given you often exhibited an acute lack of self awareness. And of course this effect can often lead to many of what are known as cognitive distortions, all-or-nothing thinking (good/bad, black/white), overgeneralizing, mental filtering, jumping to conclusions, etc. Of course, many of which you exhibited when you were speaking with me.

As I always do when writing about you, I have to wonder why I put up with your dysfunctional behavior and went to such great lengths to keep such a pointless connection going. Most recently I have been working on being aware of my energetic resonance with others. The only thing I can assume is there was a great deal of resonance I felt with you−dysfunctional all the while. However, I have had the most amusing experience recently related to energetic resonance.

I posted an ad on craigslist last night seeking a romantic connection (as opposed to my usual looking for a hookup kind of ad). The one response I’ve gotten is from a gentleman who I’ve met before (we’ve hooked up twice). The funny thing is he reminds me a great deal of you, albeit being 11 years your senior. The two times we’ve hooked up, I’ve never gotten the sense that he was looking for anything more than momentary fun. However in his email to me this morning he told me that he’s looking for someone for a regular thing. So we’ll see.

I just hope my picker no longer continues to be broke.

As always sending you much love!

Chug, Chug, Chuggin' Along...

Dearest B.,

The crazy train that my life can be at times has been rolling down the tracks at an accelerated clip but with a little luck the energy to the engines has been cut and it’ll be at full stop for awhile. At least, I’m attempting to be hopeful.

Let me back up the train, and try to explain.

As I briefly mentioned to you in a letter in April, I have a particular neighbor in my condo complex who continues to engage in a bit of rather over-the-top dysfunctional behavior with me due to the fact we share some rather unfortunate history from having served briefly on the board of directors for our community in the past. Since I assumed the role of President of our CUOA approximately a year and a half ago, she’s made it her mission to consistently and constantly send me email messages with regard to issues that are essentially manifestations of her well developed obsessive-compulsive personality disorder.

While no doubt there are many things about which she obsesses the two which she has felt the need to constantly send me emails are box elder bugs that find their way into her unit  from the outside and the fact fellow residents park temporarily in the fire lane. I have received no less than 20 emails approximately in varying combination concerning these two subjects along with personal attacks.

Until the past couple of weeks, receiving the email messages was merely annoying and tedious at best. However, as of late the tone and content of the emails has become somewhat disturbing. For whatever reason, in an email she sent me several weeks ago in regard to the box elder bugs currently entering her apartment on various occasions,  she felt the need to share with me her observations of, in her words, Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde-like behavior on my part. When I made it clear to her that I was not going to engage in such activity with her, she became evermore belligerent and we had a pointless and protracted email exchange that extended for several days.

Then week before last  as part of an email she sent me with regard to her second favorite obsession, the fact that residents park in the fire lane in front of her building and allegedly block access to her parking space, she felt the need to make allusions to my stay in the bunker. The irony of this is that my little adventure through the mental health system was partly precipitated by the difficulty I encountered while being on the board with she and the other former board member and potential sociopath living in her building.

When I made it clear to her that her attempts to intimidate me were going to prove to be less than effective, she of course in the stereotypical fashion of a sociopath escalated into sending an evermore bizarre email to both my fellow board members and the management company for our CUOA. So I had to set a very explicit boundary with her and let her know if she continues to harass the members of the board of directors in such a fashion then we will have little recourse to contact legal counsel for the association to seek advice as to the legal options available to remedy the situation.

The particularly weird thing about this most recent episode is that she sent the email to a personal email account she has for me as a result of having been on the board of directors together before. So of course, I had to set yet another boundary with her and let her know that emails from her to that particular email address are unwelcome and will no longer be accepted. Additionally I sent her a link about cyberstalking and online harassment in the same email. I also let her know that any additional email from her to that email address would be reported to her ISP.

And through this, praise Spirit,  I’m not so clueless and unaware of the opportunity the Universe is providing presently in this particular moment for me to see myself in the Great Smoking Mirror. The Great Smoking Mirror defined by Jamie Sams in her Sacred Path Cards as follows.

“The Great Smoking Mirror speaks of the reflections of Self that are seen in others. Great Smoking Mirror allows the smoke screen of personal illusions to be pierced when the mirror, which is just beyond the smoke, is caught by a shaft of illuminating light or realizations. In that moment, those who are willing to look at themselves, see the illusion of their personal myth.”

These forced tête à têtes with this particular neighbor have provided me the opportunity to see how I have no doubt been viewed by MMRFRO. While I have never came close to leveling the kind of personal attacks upon D. that my neighbor has weighed upon me—well to him directly anyway. I have to imagine it has been as unsettling for him to be the object of my fixation as it has been for me to be the fixation of my neighbor.  I have realized through this experience, that it’s imperative that I let go of the continued fixation I have with regard to D.

I was talking with M. earlier about the situation with my neighbor and she mentioned that I need to be doing more work with Phurba to release the energetic ties I have with the neighbor. I mentioned to M. that I have been using the Phurba and have realized that I need to use it to assist me in letting go of whatever I fear I continue to hold onto with this person.

Also, I have been using the Phurba to assist me in cutting the remaining energetic ties with D. However, I’ve been having difficulty narrowing down which ego dysfunction needs to be corrected. I came to understand there continues to be a wounding of the heart which needs to be released. However, I’m beginning to think there is a bit of hubris that needs to be released.  This due to the fact I engaged in a similar kind of behavior pattern with D. as I have with my neighbor.

Which is to say, when he behaved in a condescending manner with me and made attempts to belittle and demean me. Rather than call him on it directly, I mirrored it back to him with the hope he might “get it” as the ubiquitous they would say and understand his jackass-like behavior. Of course, as with my neighbor, such efforts were as much misguided as they were in vain.

The unfortunately consequence of engaging in such behavior myself is that the ego loves such activity and it’s very difficult to break the energetic connection/patterns. I always forget that in the end it’s best not to engage with others such as D. and my neighbor on their level as the energy it takes to break the energetic connection and cycle is not worth the short-term ego gratification.

Sending you much love and pride!

Sorry Seems to Be...

Dearest D.,

I’ve been catching up on episodes of a favorite podcast produced by the Cunning Minx herself, Polyamory Weekly. In one of the recent episodes (Polyweekly 233), she made reference to an interesting article on Toronto’s The Globe and Mail website entitled “A Man’s Guide to Avoiding a Premature Apology” written by Micah Toub.  In the article he discusses the all too familiar dynamic that happens in relationships in which one individual apologizes too quickly in an effort to appease the other person. Which can often lead to empty, or as Jennifer Thomas, co-author of The Five Languages of Apology: How to Experience Healing in All Your Relationships, puts it “…a lame apology.”1

Mr. Toub further explains in a rather cheeky manner the anatomy of a good apology as follows.

“‘I’m sorry’ just scratches the surface of what she and Gary Chapman have defined as the five basic ‘languages’ of apology: expressing regret (’I’m sorry’); accepting responsibility (’I was wrong’); making restitution (doing an unrelated loving thing like buying flowers); genuinely repenting (getting around to actually changing your behaviour); and requesting forgiveness (you know, grovelling).”

As I listened to the Cunning Minx read from Mr. Taub’s article in her podcast and share her experiences with various past relationships and how the five “languages” of apology may or not have played out in them, I couldn’t help but remember your various different apologies to me at varying moments. And in that moment I came to realize why I’m having such a difficult time letting of the anger I feel in regard to dysfunctional dance we did with each other which will no doubt prove to be a mere nanosecond in the larger continuum of each of our lives. While the tempo of the waltz accelerated and the length of our embrace brief, it’s had a lasting and profound effect upon me. The irony of  your claimed desire of a relationship of epic proportions but your lack of effort to acquire the skills to sustain one in such a manner is not lost on me. But again, that last statement is no doubt my bitterness talking.

While at moments you were quick to offer the first in the five languages of apology the words “I’m sorry”, whether they were offered with an authentic understanding of regret I cannot be sure. And while for me, hearing “I’m sorry” is a great first step in making an amends, what is however more import for me to hear/witness when someone offers an apology is languages two through five outlined above. Particularly two, three, and four. Which is to say getting the sense the individual truly understand that his behavior was hurtful, that he acknowledge it was hurtful then change the associated behavior. From what I recall, in each instance of your attempted apologies there was little or no attempt made at accepting responsibility, making restitution, or genuinely repenting.

And of course the other and as equally important part of the equation in an apology is the last language which is that of forgiveness. There is little doubt an entire book could be written about such a subject. On that subject, I am reminded of a definition of forgiveness given to me by someone I met in Al-Anon. She said, “Forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting. It means I acknowledge you understand what was done/said. I understand the need for me to let go of any resentments or ill will. And that we will both commit to working to resolve the situation and mend the relationship.”

Suddenly it seems to me that forgiveness seems to be the hardest word.

I want so much to forgive you for what happened and there is a part of me that has done so. However there is a part of me that holds onto residual feelings. Maybe regret? While your exit statement of speculating what might have been between the two of us was obviously expressed in an effort to be spiteful. There is a part of me that regrets the truth of your statement. How sad it is that neither of us will never know what might have been. Particularly you given your statement of seeking a long-term relationship of a transcendent nature.

I have little doubt there were times that I appeared to you to be a walking stereotype of the touchy-feely type with the need to over analyze and over process every little thing. Which at times can be true. I am however one of those individuals who doesn’t take friendships/relationships lightly or for granted. I understand the value of close meaningful connections with others as they’re difficult to find and maintain. While you expressed on more than one occasion that you shared such beliefs and values. However, it’s pretty obvious your behavior belies such sentiment and that friendships/relationship of such intimacy are the last thing you desire. And frankly, that you do your best to thwart and or avoid. But hey, that’s just one man’s experience and opinion.

One of key elements of sustaining such friendships is the ability to say, “I’m sorry.” and mean it. To be vulnerable enough to admit to being human and all its various weaknesses. And to be able to hear an apology when needed and authentically accept it. Never easy.

Currently, the individual I feel to whom I owe a the greatest apology with regard to you and me is myself. I need to practice all of the five languages of apology with me and forgive myself for what happened. To realize I did my best to express to you how I felt what I wished for the two of us regardless of the outcome. And also realizing I will never get the kind of apology from you that I require. Which means I have to create such an apology on my own. I’m not sure yet how to accomplish this. However, I have little doubt I will find the necessary tools to do so.

Your birthday is coming up soon. I’ve once again toyed with the idea of making you a card to send. Not sure what to do. Perhaps the Universe will provide me with a clue.

I hope this finds you doing well and keeping cool.

Sending you much love!