"She needs to feel appreciated. Pet her and tell her she's a good girl, and she'll wriggle like a puppy. But ignore her and she'll spill soup on you just to get your attention."
- Lazarus Long describing Dora in Robert A. Heinlein's Time Enough for Love (pg.88)
This is a description of a child's need for attention, and a willingness to do negative things to get attention when that child is feeling ignored. The context makes it clear that Dora, his ship's artificially intelligent computer, was intentionally stunted in her development, and is still a child in some regards. A good and responsible ship computer, she gets the job done with expertise and reliability, but she also needs attention and emotional reinforcement the way a child might.
The need for positive reinforcement and attention, though, is not limited to children. It is in all of us. Feeling wanted, needed, appreciated, valued, loved, etc. are very important aspects of our emotional structures throughout our lives. Most of us outgrow doing negative things to capture attention when feeling ignored, but we certainly find other coping skills to deal with those same feelings because attention and appreciation are still very important to us.
Our coping skills may fall on a spectrum from very healthy to very unhealthy. Our successes and failures in implementing those skills are hopefully teaching us to refine them. Hopefully, our unhealthy habits are getting some constructive negative reinforcement, and we are learning from that feedback. In time, I hope, our skills in managing attention and appreciation will be healthier, and our relationships will be healthier because of it.
People in our lives who leave when we hurt them give us an ambiguous message. Was our behavior unhealthy, driving them away, or did they leave for some other reason? Those who stick around, though, and give us constructive criticism, offer us a very clear picture of how we can improve. For this reason, I feel encouraged by those in my life who call me out and set expectations for me. I respect that their point of view may not be healthier than mine, but the external feedback certainly helps as I reflect and process my own behaviors and hopefully move toward healthier choices.
I extend my thanks to all who are in relationship with me. Your feedback and constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.
Friday, August 29, 2014
Monday, August 25, 2014
Mirror
"[...] when we come face-to-face with the monsters, we may find ourselves looking not at a mask but at a mirror."
- Ramsey Campbell, "Avoiding What's Been Done to Death"
- Ramsey Campbell, "Avoiding What's Been Done to Death"
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Life's Shakeups
At 3:19am in my San Jose apartment, I was still trying to find a comfortable position in bed when I turned onto my side, experiencing a familiar phenomenon. Lying just right on an artery, my heartbeat created a vibration in my senses that I often initially mistake for an earthquake.
Because of my familiarity, having done this a number of times before, I knew not to trust the feeling, but to listen to my home. If the walls were not creaking, and the closet doors were not rattling, then this was not an earthquake. Without external evidence, I conclude that the sensation was a self-created mirage; a delusion of my own mind.
In that moment, my thoughts went to my closest friends. They had not yet felt an earthquake since moving to the Bay Area, from the midwest, nearly a year ago. Feeling their first earthquake would be a christening of sorts, and I had been telling recently how excited I was that it would hopefully happen soon.
I often think of these friends, thinking philosophically about choices, identity and our pursuits for happiness. Our homes were recently shaken up, figuratively speaking. Events disrupted the normalcy of our lives, derailed many perceptions, and redirected our intentions. This emotional earthquake changed the landscapes of our identities and relationships, influencing each of us to reexamine our feelings and choices. In my opinion, these changes have been for the better. This figurative earthquake was a crucible in which we were being forged into braver and better people.
My philosophical musings were interrupted a minute after they began. My closet doors were rattling. I immediately leapt out of bed, taking pressure off of the artery, to try to confirm that the shaking continued through a change in position. The earth was shaking beneath me.
My thoughts about earthquakes had immediately preceded the tectonic event, which lent considerable doubt in my mind to the legitimacy of my experience. I also often doubt my own initial perceptions, having repeatedly experienced how deceptive they can be. In one part, I was completely confident that this earthquake had just happened. Another part of me was looking to ensure that my delusions had not just taken a more compelling form. I grabbed my phone to text my friend, announcing the quake, and seeking further external evidence that I wasn't deceiving myself.
My friend promptly replied to inform me that they had both been awakened by their first significant earthquake. The next morning, I also confirmed the earthquake had been a magnitude 6.1 event in the north bay region between Napa and Vallejo.
Reflecting on our emotional and physical earthquakes, I am reminded of the importance of accountability and solidarity. The earth reminds us not to take for granted the solid ground beneath our feet. When our world starts shaking, our friends and communities provide us encouragement to grow in ways we may have never considered. While ensuring we recover, they also hold up a mirror we may never otherwise look upon. We can be confident our experiences are more than personal delusions and self-fulling prophecies because our friends and our communities are there to confirm that our feelings are shared, or at least legitimate, and to work through life's shakeups with us.
*The quake that hit the Napa area this morning is significant. The physical earthquake has caused damage and injured people. As a community, we will take care of their needs, and ensure their recovery and ongoing wellbeing. The author is not intending to minimize nor neglect the practical needs and tragedy this seismic event has created.
Because of my familiarity, having done this a number of times before, I knew not to trust the feeling, but to listen to my home. If the walls were not creaking, and the closet doors were not rattling, then this was not an earthquake. Without external evidence, I conclude that the sensation was a self-created mirage; a delusion of my own mind.
In that moment, my thoughts went to my closest friends. They had not yet felt an earthquake since moving to the Bay Area, from the midwest, nearly a year ago. Feeling their first earthquake would be a christening of sorts, and I had been telling recently how excited I was that it would hopefully happen soon.
I often think of these friends, thinking philosophically about choices, identity and our pursuits for happiness. Our homes were recently shaken up, figuratively speaking. Events disrupted the normalcy of our lives, derailed many perceptions, and redirected our intentions. This emotional earthquake changed the landscapes of our identities and relationships, influencing each of us to reexamine our feelings and choices. In my opinion, these changes have been for the better. This figurative earthquake was a crucible in which we were being forged into braver and better people.
My philosophical musings were interrupted a minute after they began. My closet doors were rattling. I immediately leapt out of bed, taking pressure off of the artery, to try to confirm that the shaking continued through a change in position. The earth was shaking beneath me.
My thoughts about earthquakes had immediately preceded the tectonic event, which lent considerable doubt in my mind to the legitimacy of my experience. I also often doubt my own initial perceptions, having repeatedly experienced how deceptive they can be. In one part, I was completely confident that this earthquake had just happened. Another part of me was looking to ensure that my delusions had not just taken a more compelling form. I grabbed my phone to text my friend, announcing the quake, and seeking further external evidence that I wasn't deceiving myself.
My friend promptly replied to inform me that they had both been awakened by their first significant earthquake. The next morning, I also confirmed the earthquake had been a magnitude 6.1 event in the north bay region between Napa and Vallejo.
Reflecting on our emotional and physical earthquakes, I am reminded of the importance of accountability and solidarity. The earth reminds us not to take for granted the solid ground beneath our feet. When our world starts shaking, our friends and communities provide us encouragement to grow in ways we may have never considered. While ensuring we recover, they also hold up a mirror we may never otherwise look upon. We can be confident our experiences are more than personal delusions and self-fulling prophecies because our friends and our communities are there to confirm that our feelings are shared, or at least legitimate, and to work through life's shakeups with us.
*The quake that hit the Napa area this morning is significant. The physical earthquake has caused damage and injured people. As a community, we will take care of their needs, and ensure their recovery and ongoing wellbeing. The author is not intending to minimize nor neglect the practical needs and tragedy this seismic event has created.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Greatness
What does greatness look like?
Is it the passive joy of watching the sun set over the city, or observing the rings of Saturn through a telescope?
Is it the published work that carried you onto a book tour, or won you that award a decade ago?
Is it the group you host, or have organized, that made community possible for its members?
Is it the lover you cuddle next to after a day at the office, and the heart for goodness that beats within his chest?
Is it family and friends, and how they fill your life with love and encouragement no matter how far from home you may have travelled?
Is it here, in the present?
Can you reach it?
Does it surround you?
Is it, now, all around you?
Or, is it still out there somewhere, ahead of you on your uncertain road?
What can I do, if anything, to help you achieve your greatness while I am walking this very road, trying to achieve my own?
Is it the passive joy of watching the sun set over the city, or observing the rings of Saturn through a telescope?
Is it the published work that carried you onto a book tour, or won you that award a decade ago?
Is it the group you host, or have organized, that made community possible for its members?
Is it the lover you cuddle next to after a day at the office, and the heart for goodness that beats within his chest?
Is it family and friends, and how they fill your life with love and encouragement no matter how far from home you may have travelled?
Is it here, in the present?
Can you reach it?
Does it surround you?
Is it, now, all around you?
Or, is it still out there somewhere, ahead of you on your uncertain road?
What can I do, if anything, to help you achieve your greatness while I am walking this very road, trying to achieve my own?
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Every Whisper of Every Waking Hour
I am listening to R.E.M.'s The One I Love.
For reasons I can't explain, this is probably the song most often stuck in my head.
It probably has the fewest lyrics of any song I know, and yet I also feel like I'm not remembering all of them.
Truth is, I forgot the one word chorus: Fire!
But it is this one line that sticks with me: "A simple prop to occupy my time."
I didn't remember 'prop'. I kept singing it to myself as 'pawn.'
I'm not sure that one is necessarily better than the other. A prop is a lifeless piece of the scene. It is used by the actor and its involvement inevitably points back to the character or plot. The prop itself is not the focus, and only has value insofar as it adds to the audience's experience of the scene, plot or characters. On the other hand, a pawn is a piece of the player's game. Easily sacrificed for the overall pursuit of victory. The most likely to be collateral damage. A thing that only has value insofar as it serves the greater good perceived by the player.
As that line echoes in my mind, I feel a great sadness for this prop, or pawn. If there is anyone whom I consider in that way, they are being used by me, and not truly being loved by me. This makes the song painfully ironic.
I change songs, but not artists. Now, Losing My Religion is playing.
As I stare into tear soaked eyes, and listen to whispers of fears that the future no longer looks quite as bright, I softly admit, "Tomorrow is not ruined by the choices we make today. The future is made all the more worthwhile."
Have you ever told anyone, "Life is bigger than you, and you are not me." Every time I've done it, the other person has heard it as an insult. That's not really a surprise, when I think about it.
I told someone once that I had just said too much, but hadn't said enough. Catching the reference, that person simply said, "Get out of the corner." Even now, that response makes me smile and snort a little.
"I thought that I heard you laughing. I thought that I heard you sing."
It is significant to me that he does not hear you, but only thought he did.
Have you ever wanted to not feel the way you do? It is not that you do not feel that way. You do feel it. But, you don't want to. You wish you didn't. You may even try to force it, or hide it, or deny it, but in the end, you simply can't. You feel that way.
"I think I thought I saw you try."
Here, he does not even think it. Not really. He only thinks he thought he saw.
"Consider this, the slip that brought me to my knees, failed. What if all these fantasies come flailing around?"
Bertrand Russell, in an essay about why he was not a Christian, explained that the religion would compare two people: On the one hand was an international relief worker, going around the world saving lives and making a profound impact on the world. This brave and heroic person also favored the company of sexual partners to whom she was not married. On the other hand was a person who never left home, never lifted a finger to help a neighbor, and never saw beyond her own nose, but also never 'sinned.' His issue was that the religion inevitably glorified the selfish for not sinning and demonized the hero as a sinner.
In my own life, I have found that I have been the go-nowhere hermit who sought never to sin. Only recently have I even considered stepping out, and my greatest fear is that I will fail. It is a needless fear, though, because I know that I will certainly fail at some point in some way. I will hurt to the point of being brought to my knees. But, there is a hope that pushes me out that door with confidence, and this song speaks to that confidence when Michael sings:
"Every whisper of every waking hour, I'm choosing my confessions."
I am choosing...
For reasons I can't explain, this is probably the song most often stuck in my head.
It probably has the fewest lyrics of any song I know, and yet I also feel like I'm not remembering all of them.
Truth is, I forgot the one word chorus: Fire!
But it is this one line that sticks with me: "A simple prop to occupy my time."
I didn't remember 'prop'. I kept singing it to myself as 'pawn.'
I'm not sure that one is necessarily better than the other. A prop is a lifeless piece of the scene. It is used by the actor and its involvement inevitably points back to the character or plot. The prop itself is not the focus, and only has value insofar as it adds to the audience's experience of the scene, plot or characters. On the other hand, a pawn is a piece of the player's game. Easily sacrificed for the overall pursuit of victory. The most likely to be collateral damage. A thing that only has value insofar as it serves the greater good perceived by the player.
As that line echoes in my mind, I feel a great sadness for this prop, or pawn. If there is anyone whom I consider in that way, they are being used by me, and not truly being loved by me. This makes the song painfully ironic.
I change songs, but not artists. Now, Losing My Religion is playing.
As I stare into tear soaked eyes, and listen to whispers of fears that the future no longer looks quite as bright, I softly admit, "Tomorrow is not ruined by the choices we make today. The future is made all the more worthwhile."
Have you ever told anyone, "Life is bigger than you, and you are not me." Every time I've done it, the other person has heard it as an insult. That's not really a surprise, when I think about it.
I told someone once that I had just said too much, but hadn't said enough. Catching the reference, that person simply said, "Get out of the corner." Even now, that response makes me smile and snort a little.
"I thought that I heard you laughing. I thought that I heard you sing."
It is significant to me that he does not hear you, but only thought he did.
Have you ever wanted to not feel the way you do? It is not that you do not feel that way. You do feel it. But, you don't want to. You wish you didn't. You may even try to force it, or hide it, or deny it, but in the end, you simply can't. You feel that way.
"I think I thought I saw you try."
Here, he does not even think it. Not really. He only thinks he thought he saw.
"Consider this, the slip that brought me to my knees, failed. What if all these fantasies come flailing around?"
Bertrand Russell, in an essay about why he was not a Christian, explained that the religion would compare two people: On the one hand was an international relief worker, going around the world saving lives and making a profound impact on the world. This brave and heroic person also favored the company of sexual partners to whom she was not married. On the other hand was a person who never left home, never lifted a finger to help a neighbor, and never saw beyond her own nose, but also never 'sinned.' His issue was that the religion inevitably glorified the selfish for not sinning and demonized the hero as a sinner.
In my own life, I have found that I have been the go-nowhere hermit who sought never to sin. Only recently have I even considered stepping out, and my greatest fear is that I will fail. It is a needless fear, though, because I know that I will certainly fail at some point in some way. I will hurt to the point of being brought to my knees. But, there is a hope that pushes me out that door with confidence, and this song speaks to that confidence when Michael sings:
"Every whisper of every waking hour, I'm choosing my confessions."
I am choosing...
Birthdays as Altars
Birthdays are altars.
They are not only markers of age, but of progress.
We can reflect back on the year or years, recalling who we were and how we saw the world the previous times we've done this.
We can understand ourselves today, and contrast versions of ourselves; past and present.
Was there any change?
Did we make any progress?
Did we digress against our intentions not to?
Birthdays are altars of stones we pile up in time. We cannot go back. We cannot change the altars we've laid. They stand permanent in memory as reminders that we had been there, and we have since forged ahead.
They are not only markers of age, but of progress.
We can reflect back on the year or years, recalling who we were and how we saw the world the previous times we've done this.
We can understand ourselves today, and contrast versions of ourselves; past and present.
Was there any change?
Did we make any progress?
Did we digress against our intentions not to?
Birthdays are altars of stones we pile up in time. We cannot go back. We cannot change the altars we've laid. They stand permanent in memory as reminders that we had been there, and we have since forged ahead.
Friday, August 8, 2014
Make a dream last
I am listening to Jasmine Thompson sing Let Her Go.
Open the link in another tab if you want to sit with me for a bit.
If you're here with me, perhaps we can discuss the lyrics, and how they speak to your circumstances.
Or, maybe we can just silently listen together, sharing the experience without giving or taking a thing.
However we enjoy it, I am blessed that we get to enjoy it together, no matter how much distance in space or time separates us.
What brought you here?
I want to know more about you. I believe that what brings us to this place speaks volumes about the people we are right now, now that we're here.
Has the song repeated yet?
If it has, does it sound any different the second time?
Is it annoying, or does it change as you change?
Does it grow on you, or are you growing into it?
I'm asking because she's on her third or fourth pass for me, and I hardly hear the words this time. Instead, my passion rises and falls with the tone of her voice.
It is a wind, ebbing and flowing.
I catch a line:
"Everything you touch surely dies."
I've heard that as an accusation in the past.
I've heard this song as an accusation that I'm doing it wrong, killing my dreams.
It has always told me that I should have appreciated what I had while it was here, and that I am a fool for only now seeing what I've given up.
But, as my heart changes, so does my hearing.
It's still true that everything dies, but I am no longer being accused.
I change the song, but not the artist. Now, I'm listening to Rather Be.
If you have someone or something in mind to whom you wish to apply this song, then I welcome you to share that if you want.
For now, for me, I apply it to my inner peace.
She sings: "We staked out on a mission to find our inner peace."
Peace runs deeper than our momentary happiness.
Peace is what sustains us when we are thrashing violently in the throws of grief or anger.
Peace is our comforter when we can no longer stand, and we are collapsed on the floor just trying to breathe.
Inner peace is there with us, even when "we're a thousands miles from comfort."
Do you feel your inner peace? Do you taste it as you breathe? Do you feel its gentle hand moving up your spine?
Is there anyone with whom you are sharing your inner peace?
Is it something you give them? Is it something they take? Or, have you found that it can only be shared between two or more who have it?
Please, listen again. I'll be here with you if you choose to.
Or, we can move on to a new song...
Open the link in another tab if you want to sit with me for a bit.
If you're here with me, perhaps we can discuss the lyrics, and how they speak to your circumstances.
Or, maybe we can just silently listen together, sharing the experience without giving or taking a thing.
However we enjoy it, I am blessed that we get to enjoy it together, no matter how much distance in space or time separates us.
What brought you here?
I want to know more about you. I believe that what brings us to this place speaks volumes about the people we are right now, now that we're here.
Has the song repeated yet?
If it has, does it sound any different the second time?
Is it annoying, or does it change as you change?
Does it grow on you, or are you growing into it?
I'm asking because she's on her third or fourth pass for me, and I hardly hear the words this time. Instead, my passion rises and falls with the tone of her voice.
It is a wind, ebbing and flowing.
I catch a line:
"Everything you touch surely dies."
I've heard that as an accusation in the past.
I've heard this song as an accusation that I'm doing it wrong, killing my dreams.
It has always told me that I should have appreciated what I had while it was here, and that I am a fool for only now seeing what I've given up.
But, as my heart changes, so does my hearing.
It's still true that everything dies, but I am no longer being accused.
I change the song, but not the artist. Now, I'm listening to Rather Be.
If you have someone or something in mind to whom you wish to apply this song, then I welcome you to share that if you want.
For now, for me, I apply it to my inner peace.
She sings: "We staked out on a mission to find our inner peace."
Peace runs deeper than our momentary happiness.
Peace is what sustains us when we are thrashing violently in the throws of grief or anger.
Peace is our comforter when we can no longer stand, and we are collapsed on the floor just trying to breathe.
Inner peace is there with us, even when "we're a thousands miles from comfort."
Do you feel your inner peace? Do you taste it as you breathe? Do you feel its gentle hand moving up your spine?
Is there anyone with whom you are sharing your inner peace?
Is it something you give them? Is it something they take? Or, have you found that it can only be shared between two or more who have it?
Please, listen again. I'll be here with you if you choose to.
Or, we can move on to a new song...
Nocuous Fragrance
We were laughing
Some joke
Some off-color comment
From left field
Surprisingly funny
Hardly worth repeating
Then came the crushing pain
A loss of breath
Vertigo
Falling on the floor of that stairwell
The odor of old urine reminding me
I wasn't as great as I once dreamed
I could have been
The smell of fresh paint reminding me
This world bears my marks as evidence
I was
The aroma of your perfume reminding me
I was loved so completely
I'll never be again
The nocuous fragrance of death's surprise
Is knowing
We didn't get to say goodbye
Author's Note:
I created this blog to talk about my thoughts and feelings as I move into what feels like a second life. I see death coming one day, and I can't avoid it. None of us can. Until recently, I believed I would die sad about the things I missed out on, and the inadequacies that mar my existence. However, recently, though it is a season of chaos, hurt and confusion, I find that I feel fulfilled and vibrant in my new point of view. This poem, which I wrote yesterday, shows me laughing with someone I love, and whom I know loves me, as I pass into the unknown. Falling short of the ideal is still there, but it is not the consuming, nor the final, thought. My musings in this poem begin with odor, but they rise to aroma. Only the final blow of surprise pains me. But, it is a pain that cannot be avoided when death surprises us. While I do not wish a slow death on anyone, I wish that we would all get to say our goodbyes when those we love are passing on, or when we are passing on and leaving them to grieve. In that way, my wish is that the finality of our inevitable passing is aromatic in love.
Some joke
Some off-color comment
From left field
Surprisingly funny
Hardly worth repeating
Then came the crushing pain
A loss of breath
Vertigo
Falling on the floor of that stairwell
The odor of old urine reminding me
I wasn't as great as I once dreamed
I could have been
The smell of fresh paint reminding me
This world bears my marks as evidence
I was
The aroma of your perfume reminding me
I was loved so completely
I'll never be again
The nocuous fragrance of death's surprise
Is knowing
We didn't get to say goodbye
Author's Note:
I created this blog to talk about my thoughts and feelings as I move into what feels like a second life. I see death coming one day, and I can't avoid it. None of us can. Until recently, I believed I would die sad about the things I missed out on, and the inadequacies that mar my existence. However, recently, though it is a season of chaos, hurt and confusion, I find that I feel fulfilled and vibrant in my new point of view. This poem, which I wrote yesterday, shows me laughing with someone I love, and whom I know loves me, as I pass into the unknown. Falling short of the ideal is still there, but it is not the consuming, nor the final, thought. My musings in this poem begin with odor, but they rise to aroma. Only the final blow of surprise pains me. But, it is a pain that cannot be avoided when death surprises us. While I do not wish a slow death on anyone, I wish that we would all get to say our goodbyes when those we love are passing on, or when we are passing on and leaving them to grieve. In that way, my wish is that the finality of our inevitable passing is aromatic in love.
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Imagine Leaving a Mark on a Blank Surface
I have attended a few sessions of the South Bay Writers branch of the California Writers Club.
I want to officially join.
Then, I want to look into joining their board.
I want to get into marketing the current meet ups, particularly connecting with English professors and writing groups at local colleges.
I want to start my own sessions, if they'd let me.
I want to expand the community, and make it more available to local writers.
I am intimidated by my own imaginings.
Am I dreaming too big?
Am I over-imagining my own place in all this?
Even if I acted on these ideas, are they misplaced?
If I can muster the energy I'm imagining, should I be investing that enthusiasm elsewhere?
One step at a time.
I have to join.
I want to officially join.
Then, I want to look into joining their board.
I want to get into marketing the current meet ups, particularly connecting with English professors and writing groups at local colleges.
I want to start my own sessions, if they'd let me.
I want to expand the community, and make it more available to local writers.
I am intimidated by my own imaginings.
Am I dreaming too big?
Am I over-imagining my own place in all this?
Even if I acted on these ideas, are they misplaced?
If I can muster the energy I'm imagining, should I be investing that enthusiasm elsewhere?
One step at a time.
I have to join.
Communication Preference
For all of us, there are expressions that speak to us more fully, and are more important to us, than all of the other great things in our lives. We might be with the right person for us in most ways; the person who takes the best care of us, who meets us where we are, matches our enthusiasm or drive, and inspires or encourages us to be the very best we can be. However, if that person cannot speak our language of love, we may still end up feeling like they are not the right person for us, in spite of all the good they bring into our lives.
I have very recently come to appreciate the significance of what I refer to as my communication preference. I have what I personally considered a really difficult preference to satisfy. I yearn for sharp, witty, inspirational, intelligent conversation.
I have recently met people that do satisfy my communication preference. With one person, in particular, I have had the unique opportunity to share this language without restraint. I got to openly dialogue about my most intimate feelings and thoughts, and this person reciprocated in a way that I have long considered impossible, or at least improbable.
Experiencing my communication preference in this way brought unexpected and considerably disruptive hope into my heart. It is a hope that I can be satisfied in a way I never previously believed possible.
Craig Thompson ends his graphic novel, 'Blankets,' with:
"How satisfying it is to leave a mark on a blank surface. To make a map of my movement--no matter how temporary."
It is an exhalation at the end of a triumphant autobiographical, coming-of-age story. He expresses appreciation for the work he has created and for the life he lived so far, in one romantic statement. It is a satisfying end to a fulfilling song.
It is that satisfaction that my communication preference brings me. It is a feeling of fulfillment that tints everything else I can see. When I get it, my soul exhales a sigh of relief, and I lounge back like a heroin user whose eyes are rolling back as her heart beats the drug throughout her bloodstream, taking her on an unparalleled high.
This communication preference is so addictive, and so compelling, that it can drive me to the craziest decisions. Above, I began by speaking of the tremendous good a person can be, and if that person doesn't speak in this preferred style, it could appear as though I don't want them at all. Alternatively, a person may not even be available, and yet if they speak in this preferred style, I don't know how I could stop thinking about them.
This communication preference, and its impact on my heart, is profoundly powerful and priceless in significance.
Why is the capacity to communicate a particular way so overwhelmingly important to me?
I have very recently come to appreciate the significance of what I refer to as my communication preference. I have what I personally considered a really difficult preference to satisfy. I yearn for sharp, witty, inspirational, intelligent conversation.
I have recently met people that do satisfy my communication preference. With one person, in particular, I have had the unique opportunity to share this language without restraint. I got to openly dialogue about my most intimate feelings and thoughts, and this person reciprocated in a way that I have long considered impossible, or at least improbable.
Experiencing my communication preference in this way brought unexpected and considerably disruptive hope into my heart. It is a hope that I can be satisfied in a way I never previously believed possible.
Craig Thompson ends his graphic novel, 'Blankets,' with:
"How satisfying it is to leave a mark on a blank surface. To make a map of my movement--no matter how temporary."
It is an exhalation at the end of a triumphant autobiographical, coming-of-age story. He expresses appreciation for the work he has created and for the life he lived so far, in one romantic statement. It is a satisfying end to a fulfilling song.
It is that satisfaction that my communication preference brings me. It is a feeling of fulfillment that tints everything else I can see. When I get it, my soul exhales a sigh of relief, and I lounge back like a heroin user whose eyes are rolling back as her heart beats the drug throughout her bloodstream, taking her on an unparalleled high.
This communication preference is so addictive, and so compelling, that it can drive me to the craziest decisions. Above, I began by speaking of the tremendous good a person can be, and if that person doesn't speak in this preferred style, it could appear as though I don't want them at all. Alternatively, a person may not even be available, and yet if they speak in this preferred style, I don't know how I could stop thinking about them.
This communication preference, and its impact on my heart, is profoundly powerful and priceless in significance.
Why is the capacity to communicate a particular way so overwhelmingly important to me?
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
I Can't Pray Away This Gay
Growing up Christian, one of the mentalities that I had been brainwashed into believing could essentially be summarized as:
"Fake it until you make it."
Or, more elaborately, if you do not now feel a particular way or believe a particular thing that you think you should, then perform actions and indoctrinate yourself in that feeling or belief, and after long enough, you will find that, without trying, you actually feel or believe that.
This is a conviction that our feelings and beliefs are the byproduct of outside forces and stimulation, and that we as individuals are not in ourselves beings that think, feel and believe from within, pouring out.
I have learned the very hard way that this method does not work. It may change the words I say, and may change the way I appear on the outside. It might keep me from hurting people, or destroying things in my life. At least, for a while.
But there came a day, brought on by an event, or a hormonal change, or a rise of passionate feelings, in which I could not deny who I was and what I truly felt or believed. On that day, my relationships and lifestyle had all been based on doing the right thing in spite of what was brewing on the inside, and I found myself totally breaking down.
There are obviously limitations and boundaries and appropriations with what we do with our feelings. There are things we have to do to respect the landscapes and contexts and people in and with which we find ourselves. There is morality insofar as we should take care not to hurt one another where it can be avoided. Maybe our actions should be considered good if everyone in our society acted the way we are acting. However, nobility cannot come at the cost of denying who we are, how we feel, and what we believe, in the grander sense of each of those.
I couldn't figure out why I was so guilty and miserable and confused and torn and frustrated and disappointed. I was going to just go ahead and die feeling all of those things.
I never intended to change in this way. I never thought I could be so wrong.
I feel liberated seeing that I can't "pray away the gay" in my life. It is such a relief that I don't have to "fake it until I make it." In my maturity, I know and fully accept that I will not get everything I want, but I am excited not to have to feel guilty about wanting it--or not wanting it, as the case may be.
An added side effect of this personal discovery is how it affects my judgment of other people's actions and desires. I have admittedly been very judgmental over the years. The basis for this judgment has been this very mentality I have discussed above. Because I thought people just chose all their feelings, and controlled them through their actions, I could not figure out why people acted in ways that hurt them or others. But, here I am, totally wrecked by my own actions, standing among the fallout of my words and actions as I wrestled with how to keep faking it. I am not any better at this than anyone else, and just excited to finally give it an honest shot.
I look forward to what happens next...
"Fake it until you make it."
Or, more elaborately, if you do not now feel a particular way or believe a particular thing that you think you should, then perform actions and indoctrinate yourself in that feeling or belief, and after long enough, you will find that, without trying, you actually feel or believe that.
This is a conviction that our feelings and beliefs are the byproduct of outside forces and stimulation, and that we as individuals are not in ourselves beings that think, feel and believe from within, pouring out.
I have learned the very hard way that this method does not work. It may change the words I say, and may change the way I appear on the outside. It might keep me from hurting people, or destroying things in my life. At least, for a while.
But there came a day, brought on by an event, or a hormonal change, or a rise of passionate feelings, in which I could not deny who I was and what I truly felt or believed. On that day, my relationships and lifestyle had all been based on doing the right thing in spite of what was brewing on the inside, and I found myself totally breaking down.
There are obviously limitations and boundaries and appropriations with what we do with our feelings. There are things we have to do to respect the landscapes and contexts and people in and with which we find ourselves. There is morality insofar as we should take care not to hurt one another where it can be avoided. Maybe our actions should be considered good if everyone in our society acted the way we are acting. However, nobility cannot come at the cost of denying who we are, how we feel, and what we believe, in the grander sense of each of those.
I couldn't figure out why I was so guilty and miserable and confused and torn and frustrated and disappointed. I was going to just go ahead and die feeling all of those things.
I never intended to change in this way. I never thought I could be so wrong.
I feel liberated seeing that I can't "pray away the gay" in my life. It is such a relief that I don't have to "fake it until I make it." In my maturity, I know and fully accept that I will not get everything I want, but I am excited not to have to feel guilty about wanting it--or not wanting it, as the case may be.
An added side effect of this personal discovery is how it affects my judgment of other people's actions and desires. I have admittedly been very judgmental over the years. The basis for this judgment has been this very mentality I have discussed above. Because I thought people just chose all their feelings, and controlled them through their actions, I could not figure out why people acted in ways that hurt them or others. But, here I am, totally wrecked by my own actions, standing among the fallout of my words and actions as I wrestled with how to keep faking it. I am not any better at this than anyone else, and just excited to finally give it an honest shot.
I look forward to what happens next...
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
My Greatest Regrets
I don't know if you are here.
I can't tell if you can hear me.
I may just be speaking into a void,
and if that is the case,
I know I must say this anyway.
You are one of the best people
to have come into my life in
a long while.
I hate that I wasn't ready.
I hate that I treated you awfully.
I wish I'd have been
a better man.
I miss your voice
your words
your confidence
your wisdom
your compassion
your whit
you.
I felt physical things for you,
but just recall my actions.
I did not simply objectify you.
I did not touch you,
when I thought I could.
I pushed back,
and I held back.
I never lost sight of
you.
I assume my hurtfulness
has cost us any chance of
us.
Maybe my hurtfulness
demonstrates a potential reason
we might not work anyway.
But whatever becomes of us,
I care very deeply about you.
I want you to know that
you are lovely
brilliant
amazing
different
not normal
in all the right ways.
I objectified you
but not only as a sex object.
The worst way I did this was to
push you away
pull you back
push you away
again.
You are not an object,
and I can't throw you out
of my heart.
Out of my own brokenness
I hurt a really great person.
I treated you like an object
when all I ever really wanted to do
was treat you like
a princess.
Hurting you is one of
my greatest regrets.
I miss you everyday that I
breathe.
I can't tell if you can hear me.
I may just be speaking into a void,
and if that is the case,
I know I must say this anyway.
You are one of the best people
to have come into my life in
a long while.
I hate that I wasn't ready.
I hate that I treated you awfully.
I wish I'd have been
a better man.
I miss your voice
your words
your confidence
your wisdom
your compassion
your whit
you.
I felt physical things for you,
but just recall my actions.
I did not simply objectify you.
I did not touch you,
when I thought I could.
I pushed back,
and I held back.
I never lost sight of
you.
I assume my hurtfulness
has cost us any chance of
us.
Maybe my hurtfulness
demonstrates a potential reason
we might not work anyway.
But whatever becomes of us,
I care very deeply about you.
I want you to know that
you are lovely
brilliant
amazing
different
not normal
in all the right ways.
I objectified you
but not only as a sex object.
The worst way I did this was to
push you away
pull you back
push you away
again.
You are not an object,
and I can't throw you out
of my heart.
Out of my own brokenness
I hurt a really great person.
I treated you like an object
when all I ever really wanted to do
was treat you like
a princess.
Hurting you is one of
my greatest regrets.
I miss you everyday that I
breathe.
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