I was pretty grumpy by the time Jessica got home. My mom had left another message--apparently "I'm going to leave you alone" means for about a day.
Mom said she had a new perspective on homosexuality. That maybe you could be born with it, she didn't know, but we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us, and would I please call her. I haven't. It makes my stomach hurt to think about calling her, so I'm not calling, and I'm not thinking about it.
It did occur to me--and this is what I stewed over while painting the bathroom (which looks awesome, by the way)--that she seems to think that I just up and decided to leave the church and go gay one day. No forethought, no consideration about what it means for my eternal soul, etc. I wonder whether spelling out why I left the church and how long it took me and how difficult it was, complete with my reasoning, would help. I kind of doubt it. At any rate, I'm not going to talk to her about it until it doesn't make my stomach hurt.
I think that's what makes me most sad--to know that my mom is so blinded by her beliefs that she has no faith in me.
It's funny--she occasionally has told me she's impressed with me--that I can crochet and knit better than her, for example, or figure out how to fix my own washing machine. Once I got tired of email forwards of some ultra-conservative political nature, and I wrote a rebuttal and sent it to her. She was impressed with my logic and ability to communicate ideas, and was proud of that, but still didn't agree. Generally speaking, I keep my mouth shut about those sorts of things, but I did get some satisfaction from knowing that she at least could see my logic. Maybe I should send a note explaining my stance. I'm not sure if I could keep some poison from seeping through, though.
So I'll send a note to my brother and his fiance apologizing for not going for Thanksgiving and letting them know we'd like to visit them in Connecticut instead.
But back to distractions, which is what I started to write about. We went to dinner and a movie last night because I really, really wanted to be distracted. We went to the bar that has the best burgers in the county, ran into an acquaintance, watched some SyFy movie with closed captions while we ate ("Hey! That's the Borg queen!" when we saw one of the actors), then saw RED at the theater. It was a happy distraction, and it worked.
So today I shall work harder at distracting myself rather than stewing and see where it gets me.
Perhaps I'll carry my journal around with me while I bake bread and make notes of things I want to do and places I want to visit.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Joyful Co-creating
My girlfriend is still listening to The Vortex, and finding it a great way to improve her attitude, if only temporarily. It's those little temporary shifts that add up to feeling good in general, and I'm glad she's getting a lot out of it. Perhaps I'll listen to a little Abraham-Hicks material while I paint today; I probably need it after the blog post of despair I just published.
I told her I'd like to do some conscious co-creating with her, and she wanted to know how that's accomplished. Honestly, I don't think there's an actual process they've published on how to do that. And I think we do a pretty good job of it naturally--we talk about what we want to do together and separately, and we bring lots of good stuff into our relationship in that way.
We've had several relationship talks since she's moved in, and they all have been very satisfying. We sincerely hope for the best for ourselves and each other, and have painted a detailed picture of how we'd like to interact in our relationship in an ongoing way. It's working out well so far. I think what I want to add to that is a picture of what we'll look like in five or ten years. Not in a way that binds us together for better or worse--we both want the other to have the freedom to walk away if it's what's best for her. Rather, in a way allows us to bring to ourselves and our relationship the lives we've always wanted.
It's not just about how we interact, either. We talk about places we want to visit and things we want to do, activities we'd like to do regularly or semi-regularly. Little things like going out dancing with friends; restaurants and wine bars we'd like to try. Classes and hobbies that would pique both our interests, or just one while the other stands by and encourages. Financial goals. Personal development goals.
I think one way to make it a more conscious process would be to write this stuff down as it occurs to us. We're both fans of list-making; perhaps we'll add a joint list to our separate ones.
She has an on-again, off-again pen pal since high school in Malaysia, and visiting her is on her travel list. Perhaps we could combine that with my desire to go to Thailand and see the painting elephants. Maybe that could go on our joint list.
What do you think, sweetie?
I told her I'd like to do some conscious co-creating with her, and she wanted to know how that's accomplished. Honestly, I don't think there's an actual process they've published on how to do that. And I think we do a pretty good job of it naturally--we talk about what we want to do together and separately, and we bring lots of good stuff into our relationship in that way.
We've had several relationship talks since she's moved in, and they all have been very satisfying. We sincerely hope for the best for ourselves and each other, and have painted a detailed picture of how we'd like to interact in our relationship in an ongoing way. It's working out well so far. I think what I want to add to that is a picture of what we'll look like in five or ten years. Not in a way that binds us together for better or worse--we both want the other to have the freedom to walk away if it's what's best for her. Rather, in a way allows us to bring to ourselves and our relationship the lives we've always wanted.
It's not just about how we interact, either. We talk about places we want to visit and things we want to do, activities we'd like to do regularly or semi-regularly. Little things like going out dancing with friends; restaurants and wine bars we'd like to try. Classes and hobbies that would pique both our interests, or just one while the other stands by and encourages. Financial goals. Personal development goals.
I think one way to make it a more conscious process would be to write this stuff down as it occurs to us. We're both fans of list-making; perhaps we'll add a joint list to our separate ones.
She has an on-again, off-again pen pal since high school in Malaysia, and visiting her is on her travel list. Perhaps we could combine that with my desire to go to Thailand and see the painting elephants. Maybe that could go on our joint list.
What do you think, sweetie?
The throbbing toe
Abraham says that if your cause of discomfort is too intense to imagine a better feeling or better situation, it might be a good idea to distract yourself into feeling better. If you stub your toe, rather than imagining a happy, healthy foot, go to the movies.
I totally see the logic in that, at least as far as throbbing toes goes, but it feels a bit like cheating in other situations.
This morning I made my manifestation list I mentioned yesterday. My fountain pen is functional again, and my notebook has two more pages of scribbles. I came up with good reasons to believe I'll end up with an iPhone 4, a published novel, a paid off mortgage. The novel was most fun; I have ideas for how it will be easily edited and published, and really, six or seven double-spaced pages per day isn't that difficult for me to come up with. I've made a deal with Jessica that there will be no television until the day's quota is met, and I really love the idea of sitting in the living room with a little music in the background, clicking away at our keyboards. So, yes, I'm really excited about that.
I got to the fourth item on my list--actually, it was the first, but I saved the reasoning to believe until last because I figured I could do with a little momentum--and . . . well, it's hard to come up with reasons to believe my relationship with my mom will improve just a whole lot.
She really does mean well, and she really believes all that bullshit about god sending people to hell for silly reasons like not believing in him. Egotistical bastard. Those thoughts don't bring me closer to feeling better. In fact, it makes her seem farther away. She'll eventually miss me and shut up about it, yet I know it will be a worrisome subtext of our relationship. I'll eventually come up with something to say that won't send her over the edge yet allows me to remain true to myself. I've no idea what that something might be. And so my list goes--every attempt to improve my attitude ends at a stomach lurch, and I wonder if her eventual death will be what brings us closer. Morbid, I know, but if Abraham is right, death isn't really death. And she'll feel better then.
I feel sorry for her, and I'm angry with her, and neither of these are vortex-y feelings.
So--I have this emotional stubbed toe, but I feel like distracting myself from it is cheating. There are a lot of "ought"s at work here. I ought to know what to say to her. I ought to work hard to make it better. Working hard doesn't help that much, though, especially if you start out with a knot in your stomach. She ought to care enough about me to get over her programming, but then I can't really expect that. She really believes that shit; letting go of it would leave her without ground to stand on. I know; I let go of it myself a number of years ago. It was some time before I found a real bit of earth to plant my feet on, but it's much firmer than the illusion of religion. I always felt shaky when I was there.
My mom is, like I used to be, primarily motivated by fear. I can't believe that it's purely due to brain chemistry. Fucked up beliefs really do fuck with a person's head, and it's impossible to live a balanced life if you spend too much time with your fucked up beliefs. There are mentally healthy christians out there, but I find that they gloss over the dogma about hell and punishment and judgment.
So I obsess over it a little, but mostly I ignore and distract. And it is nice to think about writing, about painting the bathroom; it will be nice to actually paint the bathroom today, and even nicer to have two rooms just the way we want them. It's nice to sit here on the sofa and type this all out in my robe with my coffee.
I haven't spoken to my mom in over two weeks. Is it really ok to just ignore her until I feel up to talking to her? I'm not trying to punish her; I just don't have anything to say, and it's painful to listen to her.
And writing about all this will, perhaps, just attract more of the same. So I'm off to get dressed, to paint the bathroom, to imagine writing and having an iPhone 4 or whatever else sounds pleasant.
I totally see the logic in that, at least as far as throbbing toes goes, but it feels a bit like cheating in other situations.
This morning I made my manifestation list I mentioned yesterday. My fountain pen is functional again, and my notebook has two more pages of scribbles. I came up with good reasons to believe I'll end up with an iPhone 4, a published novel, a paid off mortgage. The novel was most fun; I have ideas for how it will be easily edited and published, and really, six or seven double-spaced pages per day isn't that difficult for me to come up with. I've made a deal with Jessica that there will be no television until the day's quota is met, and I really love the idea of sitting in the living room with a little music in the background, clicking away at our keyboards. So, yes, I'm really excited about that.
I got to the fourth item on my list--actually, it was the first, but I saved the reasoning to believe until last because I figured I could do with a little momentum--and . . . well, it's hard to come up with reasons to believe my relationship with my mom will improve just a whole lot.
She really does mean well, and she really believes all that bullshit about god sending people to hell for silly reasons like not believing in him. Egotistical bastard. Those thoughts don't bring me closer to feeling better. In fact, it makes her seem farther away. She'll eventually miss me and shut up about it, yet I know it will be a worrisome subtext of our relationship. I'll eventually come up with something to say that won't send her over the edge yet allows me to remain true to myself. I've no idea what that something might be. And so my list goes--every attempt to improve my attitude ends at a stomach lurch, and I wonder if her eventual death will be what brings us closer. Morbid, I know, but if Abraham is right, death isn't really death. And she'll feel better then.
I feel sorry for her, and I'm angry with her, and neither of these are vortex-y feelings.
So--I have this emotional stubbed toe, but I feel like distracting myself from it is cheating. There are a lot of "ought"s at work here. I ought to know what to say to her. I ought to work hard to make it better. Working hard doesn't help that much, though, especially if you start out with a knot in your stomach. She ought to care enough about me to get over her programming, but then I can't really expect that. She really believes that shit; letting go of it would leave her without ground to stand on. I know; I let go of it myself a number of years ago. It was some time before I found a real bit of earth to plant my feet on, but it's much firmer than the illusion of religion. I always felt shaky when I was there.
My mom is, like I used to be, primarily motivated by fear. I can't believe that it's purely due to brain chemistry. Fucked up beliefs really do fuck with a person's head, and it's impossible to live a balanced life if you spend too much time with your fucked up beliefs. There are mentally healthy christians out there, but I find that they gloss over the dogma about hell and punishment and judgment.
So I obsess over it a little, but mostly I ignore and distract. And it is nice to think about writing, about painting the bathroom; it will be nice to actually paint the bathroom today, and even nicer to have two rooms just the way we want them. It's nice to sit here on the sofa and type this all out in my robe with my coffee.
I haven't spoken to my mom in over two weeks. Is it really ok to just ignore her until I feel up to talking to her? I'm not trying to punish her; I just don't have anything to say, and it's painful to listen to her.
And writing about all this will, perhaps, just attract more of the same. So I'm off to get dressed, to paint the bathroom, to imagine writing and having an iPhone 4 or whatever else sounds pleasant.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Fountain pens work better if you use them regularly
My girlfriend has started making lists of her interests. She's been with the same man for 20 years, and has always taken him into consideration when making plans and pursuing interests. She has a hobby list, a travel list, and I'm not sure what else. Someone pointed out to her that this is an opportunity to really find herself--rather than launching into another long-term relationship without thinking about who she is and what she wants, she'll work on herself. I think that's a damn good idea.
There's a small part of me that worries that she'll discover that I'm not what she's looking for, but the bigger part of me is glad she's really discovering herself. I'd rather be with someone who is confident in herself, who doesn't compromise herself to appease me (which, honestly, she doesn't do anyway), and who doesn't rely on how others behave to feel good herself.
Meanwhile, while I was typing the above paragraph, I got another voicemail from my mom. Yesterday's voicemail was informational--I can get AIDS from my girlfriend if she's ever slept with someone who has it. I'm pretty sure she hasn't, and she's tested negative anyway, as have I, and even if she were HIV positive, lesbian sex isn't the best way to give it to somebody else. I considered calling my mom back to reassure her that our chances are pretty fucking slim of acquiring anything, let alone something as difficult to transmit as HIV, but . . . well, no, I didn't really consider it. Honestly, I'd just like for her to drop it.
Today's voicemail was just as dramatic, but the content was a little better. She knows I'm tired of hearing about it, and she's giving it over into the hands of her savior, and I can call her when I feel like it, but she won't be bugging me any more. As I'm pretty sure Jesus doesn't have my phone number (he's never called me, anyway), I'm pretty happy about that. Still, the situation is far from ideal.
I can't create in someone else's reality, so I'm trying to figure out what would be the best situation to bring into my reality. If I could manufacture enlightenment pills, I'd take one myself first, then slip one into my mom's decaf (anxiety makes it prudent to avoid caffeine). Or maybe I should do hers first, as enlightenment might make me realize it's best not to fiddle with other people's realities.
I'm currently listening to The Law of Attraction: The Basics of the Teachings of Abraham. It's vintage recordings republished as a single audiobook. Esther uses a thicker accent when translating for Abraham, so it's a little like listening to a gypsy fortune teller, and the background music is spookily like what I hear at work (that is, it's a little spooky and dramatic), but the content is good as always.
One of the exercises they suggest is writing down what you want to manifest on one side of a sheet of paper, and on the other side write down all the reasons you know it will happen. They suggest starting with three, so your energy isn't too divided, and I think it will be easier to keep track of what's going on, too.
So what can I manifest about the situation with my mom? For her to love Jessica like a good daughter-in-law possibility? I'm thinking the tattoos might scare her a little, so that's a bit much to ask, at least for the moment. I think what I can manage is improvement in our relationships.
So that goes on my first list, three things I'll manifest. Along with an iPhone 4 and a paid off mortgage. Shallow, the material wishes, you think? Perhaps, but life wouldn't be any fun if everything we did were deep and meaningful. Plus, those sorts of things are easier to measure. The mortgage kind of scares me, almost as much as my mom does, so maybe I'll start with something easier there, too. Or maybe I'll make a list of four--those three and my completed novel. I'm a rule breaker. And the novel would also be easier to measure, and it's quite important to me, in case you haven't noticed from previous posts.
And, like Jessica, I'll be making lists of places I'd like to visit and interests I'd like to pursue. When I'm in the groove with the intentional creation stuff, maybe I'll turn those pages over and write why I know they'll manifest in my physical reality.
I've already pulled out a journal, and, once again, my fountain pen has dried up. I do love a good fountain pen. Perhaps I'll fix the pen before working on ridding the bathroom of mold.
My home is improving every day. We painted the bedroom yesterday, and it looks friggin' awesome. Three walls in dark eucalyptus and one in warm caramel is a great improvement over all four in granny smith apple green. Next on our list is the bathroom--a softer orange and new art on the wall. Jessica knows a number of very good artists and has a lot of their work, and piece by piece our home is turning into a truly lovely environment. We have plans to build a shed to keep the motorcycles safe (my motorcycle won't know what hit it, poor thing) and move storage and tools out there as well. All kinds of neat stuff is happening, and I know it's all been waiting for me in my vibrational escrow.
So that's what's happening in the world of faithy. Life is good; a little weird, but good, and every night I have the best manifestation ever: cuddles with a beautiful woman whom I love, and who loves me.
There's a small part of me that worries that she'll discover that I'm not what she's looking for, but the bigger part of me is glad she's really discovering herself. I'd rather be with someone who is confident in herself, who doesn't compromise herself to appease me (which, honestly, she doesn't do anyway), and who doesn't rely on how others behave to feel good herself.
Meanwhile, while I was typing the above paragraph, I got another voicemail from my mom. Yesterday's voicemail was informational--I can get AIDS from my girlfriend if she's ever slept with someone who has it. I'm pretty sure she hasn't, and she's tested negative anyway, as have I, and even if she were HIV positive, lesbian sex isn't the best way to give it to somebody else. I considered calling my mom back to reassure her that our chances are pretty fucking slim of acquiring anything, let alone something as difficult to transmit as HIV, but . . . well, no, I didn't really consider it. Honestly, I'd just like for her to drop it.
Today's voicemail was just as dramatic, but the content was a little better. She knows I'm tired of hearing about it, and she's giving it over into the hands of her savior, and I can call her when I feel like it, but she won't be bugging me any more. As I'm pretty sure Jesus doesn't have my phone number (he's never called me, anyway), I'm pretty happy about that. Still, the situation is far from ideal.
I can't create in someone else's reality, so I'm trying to figure out what would be the best situation to bring into my reality. If I could manufacture enlightenment pills, I'd take one myself first, then slip one into my mom's decaf (anxiety makes it prudent to avoid caffeine). Or maybe I should do hers first, as enlightenment might make me realize it's best not to fiddle with other people's realities.
I'm currently listening to The Law of Attraction: The Basics of the Teachings of Abraham. It's vintage recordings republished as a single audiobook. Esther uses a thicker accent when translating for Abraham, so it's a little like listening to a gypsy fortune teller, and the background music is spookily like what I hear at work (that is, it's a little spooky and dramatic), but the content is good as always.
One of the exercises they suggest is writing down what you want to manifest on one side of a sheet of paper, and on the other side write down all the reasons you know it will happen. They suggest starting with three, so your energy isn't too divided, and I think it will be easier to keep track of what's going on, too.
So what can I manifest about the situation with my mom? For her to love Jessica like a good daughter-in-law possibility? I'm thinking the tattoos might scare her a little, so that's a bit much to ask, at least for the moment. I think what I can manage is improvement in our relationships.
So that goes on my first list, three things I'll manifest. Along with an iPhone 4 and a paid off mortgage. Shallow, the material wishes, you think? Perhaps, but life wouldn't be any fun if everything we did were deep and meaningful. Plus, those sorts of things are easier to measure. The mortgage kind of scares me, almost as much as my mom does, so maybe I'll start with something easier there, too. Or maybe I'll make a list of four--those three and my completed novel. I'm a rule breaker. And the novel would also be easier to measure, and it's quite important to me, in case you haven't noticed from previous posts.
And, like Jessica, I'll be making lists of places I'd like to visit and interests I'd like to pursue. When I'm in the groove with the intentional creation stuff, maybe I'll turn those pages over and write why I know they'll manifest in my physical reality.
I've already pulled out a journal, and, once again, my fountain pen has dried up. I do love a good fountain pen. Perhaps I'll fix the pen before working on ridding the bathroom of mold.
My home is improving every day. We painted the bedroom yesterday, and it looks friggin' awesome. Three walls in dark eucalyptus and one in warm caramel is a great improvement over all four in granny smith apple green. Next on our list is the bathroom--a softer orange and new art on the wall. Jessica knows a number of very good artists and has a lot of their work, and piece by piece our home is turning into a truly lovely environment. We have plans to build a shed to keep the motorcycles safe (my motorcycle won't know what hit it, poor thing) and move storage and tools out there as well. All kinds of neat stuff is happening, and I know it's all been waiting for me in my vibrational escrow.
So that's what's happening in the world of faithy. Life is good; a little weird, but good, and every night I have the best manifestation ever: cuddles with a beautiful woman whom I love, and who loves me.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Music for the Vortex
While driving home from work about a week ago, Rufus Wainwright's "Beautiful Child" came on my iPhone mix. Normally I listen to audiobooks, but I had an urge to jam out that day, and I think with good reason: inspiration hit. I need a Vortex playlist for my favoritest happy songs.
Music affects my mood like nothing else. There's nothing more satisfying than feeling humdrum, a little blue, and putting in Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile and screaming along with "Starfuckers" (which I happen to think is kind of a funny song--it's just a little too angry, you know?). Or if I want to dwell in my blue-ness and derive a little satisfaction from that vague feeling of longing that comes with it, I can shuffle through my The Sundays collection--favorites for 20 years. I've yet to have an iPod that didn't have The Sundays on board, and I'm all about switching up my music collection.
So when I'm feeling happy, or wanting to feel happy, and don't feel like thinking through some book-on-tape logic to make myself feel better, here are a handful of songs that make it to the top of my list. I've included 3 by Sigur Ros. They're magical, somehow, and not just because they're from Iceland, which is a magical place. Oh, and Bjork gets 3 as well--but, well, she's fuckin' hot, so she gets 3. And she's Icelandic, too. Have I mentioned I've been to Iceland?
Jessica saw me making my playlist, and she said, "You know what I'd put on that playlist." Yes, I do. Her theme song, "Unwritten," by Nathasha Bedingfield. For being pop, it's a pretty damn good song, too, so in it goes.
You'll notice that not all of these songs are really high energy selections. I think there's a lot to be said for peaceful joy as well as energetic joy. Plus, I get tired if I listen to too much high energy stuff in a row. Maybe I should work on my joy stamina. Or maybe I should just enjoy everything as it comes to me, high energy or peaceful.
Music is the universal language. Which is to say, I believe, it is the language of the universe. My spirit speaks to me when something nice is shooting through the speakers, and in putting on these selections, I start a dialogue that brings me to myself.
Music affects my mood like nothing else. There's nothing more satisfying than feeling humdrum, a little blue, and putting in Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile and screaming along with "Starfuckers" (which I happen to think is kind of a funny song--it's just a little too angry, you know?). Or if I want to dwell in my blue-ness and derive a little satisfaction from that vague feeling of longing that comes with it, I can shuffle through my The Sundays collection--favorites for 20 years. I've yet to have an iPod that didn't have The Sundays on board, and I'm all about switching up my music collection.
So when I'm feeling happy, or wanting to feel happy, and don't feel like thinking through some book-on-tape logic to make myself feel better, here are a handful of songs that make it to the top of my list. I've included 3 by Sigur Ros. They're magical, somehow, and not just because they're from Iceland, which is a magical place. Oh, and Bjork gets 3 as well--but, well, she's fuckin' hot, so she gets 3. And she's Icelandic, too. Have I mentioned I've been to Iceland?
Jessica saw me making my playlist, and she said, "You know what I'd put on that playlist." Yes, I do. Her theme song, "Unwritten," by Nathasha Bedingfield. For being pop, it's a pretty damn good song, too, so in it goes.
You'll notice that not all of these songs are really high energy selections. I think there's a lot to be said for peaceful joy as well as energetic joy. Plus, I get tired if I listen to too much high energy stuff in a row. Maybe I should work on my joy stamina. Or maybe I should just enjoy everything as it comes to me, high energy or peaceful.
Music is the universal language. Which is to say, I believe, it is the language of the universe. My spirit speaks to me when something nice is shooting through the speakers, and in putting on these selections, I start a dialogue that brings me to myself.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Thinking more about writing . . .
Can you tell I'm getting excited about NaNoWriMo next month? It's less than a week away!
I'm thinking about it a lot. I think I've decided which idea I'll be working on, and am considering changing the setting that I had previously decided on for that novel. Not sure if it will work in a different setting, but I've got a week for mulling, and mull I shall.
I've read bajillions--I mean, a whole lot--of books about writing. Primarily books about overcoming writer's block, motivating yourself, and otherwise getting novels written for people who haven't managed to write them before. Overall, I have to say these books make my stomach hurt, and I know why.
Those how-to writers spend a lot of time talking about what stops them from writing. The inner critic, the lack of inspiration, the difficulty scheduling, the outlines or lack thereof . . . . These are completely anti-Law of Attraction guidelines for how to write. Even if I manage to eke out a few pages while or after reading one of these books, I soon give up (if I start) and capitulate to the fear of coming up against what they warn about. Their advice is almost invariably the same: keep writing anyway. It might not be fun, but eventually you'll get into a groove and get it done.
How depressing is that?
Did Bill Gates, when he was a teenager sneaking out of his bedroom window to go program computers at 2 am, dread sitting down at the keyboard and hope for inspiration to hit eventually? I can only imagine not. I picture an acne-fied, bespectacled Gates loving every minute--even the frustrating ones. Hell, I bet the sneaking out was one of the best parts. And it all added to the joy of programming. He found his passion and followed it.
So why, when someone nervously hints they might be passionate about writing, does conventional wisdom think it's wise to warn them of pitfalls awaiting them? The cautionary tales are ostensibly so that the aspiring writer will be prepared when the inevitable happens. Could this method work for anybody? It certainly doesn't for me.
Imagine going into a new love relationship completely focused on everything that's gone wrong in the past, then reading a book warning of pitfalls that hadn't even occurred to you yet. Sure, you don't want to be blinded by love and get burned, but . . . well . . . we fall in love because it's fun, don't we? We love the good feelings, the companionship, the adventure of it all. When a new lover presents a challenge, it's more often looked at an as opportunity to expand than an annoyance.
"Why, no, I've never tried haggis, but if you like it so much I'll be willing to give it a go."
"Skydiving? I've always been terrified of heights, but if it means time with you, I'll do it."
So I think, relationship guru that I am, that the key to a loving and lasting relationship is to hold onto those good thoughts, those things you love about your lover, as much as you can, and when difficulties come, work through them. Don't sweep them under the rug, inviting resentment to build up under the surface. Instead, take the energy generated by the love you feel for each other to work through the problems.
My plan is to treat my novel as a new love relationship. It's a chance for expansion, to experience things I never have before. When I come up against a difficulty, I'll focus on what I love about writing, about my story, about life in general, and I'll get through to something way better.
And I do love writing. When I was young (before email), I'd write multi-paged letters in tiny script to all my friends. I felt I could be more my ideal self when writing, and I wanted them to know that aspect of me. I could be funny or philosophical or a little of each. I was proud of my letters, and part of what I looked forward to in receiving their letters was the knowledge that it was then my turn to write again.
On my days off there's nothing better than typing up my thoughts about the Law of Attraction for this blog while sipping coffee. I dread finishing (hence the often long posts). I feel truly at home with a keyboard.
I love the feel and sound of the keys. I love being able to say whatever I like without being interrupted (much--cutting my eyes around at our animal roommates). I love the clarity that comes to my thoughts when I put them into words. Honestly, I don't give a shit whether anybody ever reads this blog. I just enjoy writing it. I enjoy writing in general.
I've always wanted to write a novel. There's plenty of wanting there--that's a powerful start. My beliefs, in the past, have kept me from completing anything. Whether it's the idea that I don't know what should go in the middle of the book, or that it's too huge a task for me to accomplish, or, my dad's favorite line, "You never have, so what makes you think you ever will?" But those are just beliefs, and at the moment, I don't give a shit about them, either.
A belief is just a thought you keep thinking, Abraham says. I've had enough of those particular beliefs. I may not have new ones well-seated, replacing them yet, but again, I don't give a shit.
I'm excited.
I like writing.
I'm writing a novel.
I'm thinking about it a lot. I think I've decided which idea I'll be working on, and am considering changing the setting that I had previously decided on for that novel. Not sure if it will work in a different setting, but I've got a week for mulling, and mull I shall.
I've read bajillions--I mean, a whole lot--of books about writing. Primarily books about overcoming writer's block, motivating yourself, and otherwise getting novels written for people who haven't managed to write them before. Overall, I have to say these books make my stomach hurt, and I know why.
Those how-to writers spend a lot of time talking about what stops them from writing. The inner critic, the lack of inspiration, the difficulty scheduling, the outlines or lack thereof . . . . These are completely anti-Law of Attraction guidelines for how to write. Even if I manage to eke out a few pages while or after reading one of these books, I soon give up (if I start) and capitulate to the fear of coming up against what they warn about. Their advice is almost invariably the same: keep writing anyway. It might not be fun, but eventually you'll get into a groove and get it done.
How depressing is that?
Did Bill Gates, when he was a teenager sneaking out of his bedroom window to go program computers at 2 am, dread sitting down at the keyboard and hope for inspiration to hit eventually? I can only imagine not. I picture an acne-fied, bespectacled Gates loving every minute--even the frustrating ones. Hell, I bet the sneaking out was one of the best parts. And it all added to the joy of programming. He found his passion and followed it.
So why, when someone nervously hints they might be passionate about writing, does conventional wisdom think it's wise to warn them of pitfalls awaiting them? The cautionary tales are ostensibly so that the aspiring writer will be prepared when the inevitable happens. Could this method work for anybody? It certainly doesn't for me.
Imagine going into a new love relationship completely focused on everything that's gone wrong in the past, then reading a book warning of pitfalls that hadn't even occurred to you yet. Sure, you don't want to be blinded by love and get burned, but . . . well . . . we fall in love because it's fun, don't we? We love the good feelings, the companionship, the adventure of it all. When a new lover presents a challenge, it's more often looked at an as opportunity to expand than an annoyance.
"Why, no, I've never tried haggis, but if you like it so much I'll be willing to give it a go."
"Skydiving? I've always been terrified of heights, but if it means time with you, I'll do it."
So I think, relationship guru that I am, that the key to a loving and lasting relationship is to hold onto those good thoughts, those things you love about your lover, as much as you can, and when difficulties come, work through them. Don't sweep them under the rug, inviting resentment to build up under the surface. Instead, take the energy generated by the love you feel for each other to work through the problems.
My plan is to treat my novel as a new love relationship. It's a chance for expansion, to experience things I never have before. When I come up against a difficulty, I'll focus on what I love about writing, about my story, about life in general, and I'll get through to something way better.
And I do love writing. When I was young (before email), I'd write multi-paged letters in tiny script to all my friends. I felt I could be more my ideal self when writing, and I wanted them to know that aspect of me. I could be funny or philosophical or a little of each. I was proud of my letters, and part of what I looked forward to in receiving their letters was the knowledge that it was then my turn to write again.
On my days off there's nothing better than typing up my thoughts about the Law of Attraction for this blog while sipping coffee. I dread finishing (hence the often long posts). I feel truly at home with a keyboard.
I love the feel and sound of the keys. I love being able to say whatever I like without being interrupted (much--cutting my eyes around at our animal roommates). I love the clarity that comes to my thoughts when I put them into words. Honestly, I don't give a shit whether anybody ever reads this blog. I just enjoy writing it. I enjoy writing in general.
I've always wanted to write a novel. There's plenty of wanting there--that's a powerful start. My beliefs, in the past, have kept me from completing anything. Whether it's the idea that I don't know what should go in the middle of the book, or that it's too huge a task for me to accomplish, or, my dad's favorite line, "You never have, so what makes you think you ever will?" But those are just beliefs, and at the moment, I don't give a shit about them, either.
A belief is just a thought you keep thinking, Abraham says. I've had enough of those particular beliefs. I may not have new ones well-seated, replacing them yet, but again, I don't give a shit.
I'm excited.
I like writing.
I'm writing a novel.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Ten minutes to blog!
and there's too much to say.
I've gotten 2 phone messages and a letter from my mom since the last documented conversation. She hasn't changed her stance--the dog and I may come home for Thanksgiving, but Jessica may not. Jessica's theory is that she feels a great deal of discomfort with making this stand, but feels trapped by her fear of hell into doing it. Good point.
I've realized that my favorite thing to do is to sip my coffee in the morning and blog (hence the quick post today) and I think it will carry over into my NaNoWriMo project. Of course, that will carry over into evenings, too, as I don't generally write over a thousand words here. I'm still excited.
I've fallen behind on keeping up with Quicken. It's on my list for tomorrow, my day off, along with laundry, moving the treadmill, and other general household stuff. I'm working on being excited about that.
I have several blog posts I want to make--Vortex Music Selections, appreciation rant about writing and the like. Stay tuned.
I'm trying to remember to think of things I appreciate in the mornings. Mostly I appreciate my bed, so there's still some work to be done there. :)
I've gotten 2 phone messages and a letter from my mom since the last documented conversation. She hasn't changed her stance--the dog and I may come home for Thanksgiving, but Jessica may not. Jessica's theory is that she feels a great deal of discomfort with making this stand, but feels trapped by her fear of hell into doing it. Good point.
I've realized that my favorite thing to do is to sip my coffee in the morning and blog (hence the quick post today) and I think it will carry over into my NaNoWriMo project. Of course, that will carry over into evenings, too, as I don't generally write over a thousand words here. I'm still excited.
I've fallen behind on keeping up with Quicken. It's on my list for tomorrow, my day off, along with laundry, moving the treadmill, and other general household stuff. I'm working on being excited about that.
I have several blog posts I want to make--Vortex Music Selections, appreciation rant about writing and the like. Stay tuned.
I'm trying to remember to think of things I appreciate in the mornings. Mostly I appreciate my bed, so there's still some work to be done there. :)
Saturday, October 23, 2010
I'm Getting Excited
I'm getting pretty psyched about NaNoWriMo. I have an account with My Writing Nook and have the corresponding iPhone app. I'm eager to start but the official start date isn't until November 1. I have decided that even if it's mostly gibberish, I shall have a 50,000 word document by November 30.
I've started novels before, but I'm pretty sure none have ever made it quite to 50,000 words. I have high hopes this year, primarily because I have a writing partner, and she is my girlfriend. I imagine coming home in the evening and clicking away at our computers, cursing writer's block together and comparing word counts. I've just put a daily event on my Google calendar: "Write 1667 words."
I've thought about doing NaNoWriMo before, but the start date has come and gone without me remembering to start, or the lack of someone to commiserate/celebrate with has made it feel like a solitary struggle up a steep hill.
So I've been thinking about this for a couple of weeks now, and I have a plan for when I get stuck. My plan is to keep writing, even if I don't know what comes next. I figure it's a pretty smart plan: the babbling until something sensible comes out will add to my word count,for one thing, and the hours I spend will count toward my 10,000 hours to become an expert novelist.
I get the 10,000 hours concept from Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point, a really fascinating look at genius and a practical outline of what separates the Bill Gateses from the rest of us: time invested. Sure, they start off a little smarter than some, but not magnificently so. The key is to care so much about what you're interested in that you spend time--a lot of time--doing it.
I've worried that I inherently lack the kind of passion it takes to make that sort of commitment. Looking at it objectively, though, I don't think I lack passion. I think I care quite a bit, but lack confidence and conviction. The best way to gain confidence is through experience, and I think this is the year to actually do it.
No matter how uncomfortable I am with what I'm writing or where it's going or how lost I feel getting there, I know that discomfort is better than the feeling of disappointment I'll have if i quit.
It reminds me of leaving my religion, in a way. I considered going back, in a few bouts of hell-phobia, what if I'm wrong sort of thinking. The idea, though, crushed me. I knew that no matter how frightened I was, the fear was more liberating than living inside that bell jar. I felt a strong kinship to Sylvia Plath at the time; I had felt the breeze that came when a small corner of the jar lifted, and couldn't bring myself to live without it.
So--I'm off to my day job now, and looking forward to my new challenge.
I've started novels before, but I'm pretty sure none have ever made it quite to 50,000 words. I have high hopes this year, primarily because I have a writing partner, and she is my girlfriend. I imagine coming home in the evening and clicking away at our computers, cursing writer's block together and comparing word counts. I've just put a daily event on my Google calendar: "Write 1667 words."
I've thought about doing NaNoWriMo before, but the start date has come and gone without me remembering to start, or the lack of someone to commiserate/celebrate with has made it feel like a solitary struggle up a steep hill.
So I've been thinking about this for a couple of weeks now, and I have a plan for when I get stuck. My plan is to keep writing, even if I don't know what comes next. I figure it's a pretty smart plan: the babbling until something sensible comes out will add to my word count,for one thing, and the hours I spend will count toward my 10,000 hours to become an expert novelist.
I get the 10,000 hours concept from Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point, a really fascinating look at genius and a practical outline of what separates the Bill Gateses from the rest of us: time invested. Sure, they start off a little smarter than some, but not magnificently so. The key is to care so much about what you're interested in that you spend time--a lot of time--doing it.
I've worried that I inherently lack the kind of passion it takes to make that sort of commitment. Looking at it objectively, though, I don't think I lack passion. I think I care quite a bit, but lack confidence and conviction. The best way to gain confidence is through experience, and I think this is the year to actually do it.
No matter how uncomfortable I am with what I'm writing or where it's going or how lost I feel getting there, I know that discomfort is better than the feeling of disappointment I'll have if i quit.
It reminds me of leaving my religion, in a way. I considered going back, in a few bouts of hell-phobia, what if I'm wrong sort of thinking. The idea, though, crushed me. I knew that no matter how frightened I was, the fear was more liberating than living inside that bell jar. I felt a strong kinship to Sylvia Plath at the time; I had felt the breeze that came when a small corner of the jar lifted, and couldn't bring myself to live without it.
So--I'm off to my day job now, and looking forward to my new challenge.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
What is it about you that makes me feel separated from my source?
It's been a few days since last I posted. This is partially because I've been pretty fucking busy. My girlfriend moved in with me last Monday, and as my house wasn't particularly prepared to receive a new tenant, we've been tidying, discussing, and making decisions about what to do with pretty much everything. The process has only just begun. Also, my primary computer is now using the television as a monitor (it felt restricted by the 20" monitor and was getting lonely in my office, which I try not to go into unless I have to), and it's a little weird to type out my thoughts on a giant screen with someone else in the room. I don't mind her reading it when I'm done (she's my primary audience at the moment, actually), but the creation process is not enhanced by an audience.
What happened to the polyamory situation? Oh, yeah. That. Well, it's a long story, and I'm not sure all parties would appreciate the story being immortalized in my blog, but the basic gist is that Doug and Christy (husband and his girlfriend who happens to be my ex) decided they would rather be primaries, and Jessica and I are, as a result, primaries as well. No, it wasn't a simple, "Oh, OK. That's fine; I was ready for a change, anyway," to get from there to here, but I'm really not at liberty to give details, as much as I might like to.
I've been monitoring my reactions closely. I've had a lot of anger as different aspects have come to light, and have really had to pace myself to keep from saying things I might later regret. And no, I have no anger toward Jessica. I asked her the other night whether it was selfish of me to be glad that I have her full-time now, and I am glad. My home feels empty when she's not here.
At the same time, it's a little weird to think of myself as her primary partner after being secondary for so long. It's easier to carry on with my you-are-in-charge-of-your-own-happiness philosophy when . . . well, when what? I don't care for Jessica any more or less than I did before; I don't take her into consideration any more than I did before when making decisions. Perhaps it's only that our commitment to each other is more palpable now. That and the word primary.
Throughout this time I've been bewildered more than once by how other people think and behave. Historically I've been pretty good at imagining why other people do what they do, and it's made me a pretty easy-going person. Lately I've been having to think pretty hard to figure out why people do what they do, though, and it's challenged my belief that there is no absolute right or wrong in most situations.
Here's a good example: I told my mom that Jessica had moved in, and that I was thinking of bringing her home, to Vernon, Alabama, for Thanksgiving. Her response:
"Is she gay?"
I mulled this over for a moment, turned to Jessica, and said, "She wants to know if you're gay."
I know that Jessica is not gay. I also know that trying to explain bisexuality to my mom would only translate as the word as "whore" to her. We're certainly not getting into the married issue.
I did the best I could: "She's dated men, but right now she's in love with me."
That did not go over well at all.
"I am not having her in my house."
"You let me bring Christy home."
"I'm not putting up with this any more. You need to read your bible. I know you believe in God." And on and on.
I did *not* respond with, "Well, no, Mom, I can't believe in a god who would send nice people like me to hell," so figure I'm doing pretty good with restraining myself. Of course, in not saying stuff like that, I'm totally looking out for my own interests. There's not much that's more painful than a religious discussion with my mom.
I hate to think that my mom's beliefs are more important to her than I am, but at times I suspect that's true. Sure, I could tell myself that she really believes I'd be happier if I capitulated to this idea of right and wrong that she has, but I can see how anxiety-ridden she is herself because of those beliefs, and it just doesn't make sense.
So when I feel angry or sad or just weird about that situation or others, I ask myself, as Abraham advises, "What is it about you that makes me feel separated from my source?"
Is it your own obvious lack of connection? Does it remind me of my own shortcomings? Do I envy your passion and conviction? Do I long for some rock to stand on?
And suddenly I feel pretty firmly grounded. I do have a rock to stand on. I know how I feel, and what I believe, and I know why I feel and believe what I do.
At times I have a hard time believing that what I want will magically appear in my life if I firmly hold to the belief that it will. Having a hard time believing it sort of puts a damper on trying, of course. Having said that, I can point to a number of recent events that makes it obvious that it's true.
I cherished every moment with Jessica before, and knew that I wanted a full-time lover like her, yet I had no feeling of lack because she was in my life, and I enjoyed what we had. And now I have a full-time lover exactly like her. Specifically, her. It felt like a pretty fucked up way to get here, but I am really glad we're here all the same.
That's the big one. But there are smaller things, too--like having my house more the way I want it. She wants it the way I want it, too, and it's easier to make it happen with two of us here. I've always wanted to have someone to do NaNoWriMo with me, and she suggested we both do it about a month ago. And so forth.
So I don't know what to do with my mom, or whether I'll go home for Thanksgiving at all at this point. I don't know why my friends behave the way they do; I don't even understand some of what Jessica does, and we're pretty together on most things. I'm not even sure if it's my job to try to figure it all out, but it's what I do.
I guess being in charge of your own happiness doesn't mean you ought to create a vacuum to live in, so that nothing else can interfere with your quest. I think it means appreciate the contrast that comes to you, and whether you shake your head or nod in agreement with the events in your life, hold on most of all to your own source.
What happened to the polyamory situation? Oh, yeah. That. Well, it's a long story, and I'm not sure all parties would appreciate the story being immortalized in my blog, but the basic gist is that Doug and Christy (husband and his girlfriend who happens to be my ex) decided they would rather be primaries, and Jessica and I are, as a result, primaries as well. No, it wasn't a simple, "Oh, OK. That's fine; I was ready for a change, anyway," to get from there to here, but I'm really not at liberty to give details, as much as I might like to.
I've been monitoring my reactions closely. I've had a lot of anger as different aspects have come to light, and have really had to pace myself to keep from saying things I might later regret. And no, I have no anger toward Jessica. I asked her the other night whether it was selfish of me to be glad that I have her full-time now, and I am glad. My home feels empty when she's not here.
At the same time, it's a little weird to think of myself as her primary partner after being secondary for so long. It's easier to carry on with my you-are-in-charge-of-your-own-happiness philosophy when . . . well, when what? I don't care for Jessica any more or less than I did before; I don't take her into consideration any more than I did before when making decisions. Perhaps it's only that our commitment to each other is more palpable now. That and the word primary.
Throughout this time I've been bewildered more than once by how other people think and behave. Historically I've been pretty good at imagining why other people do what they do, and it's made me a pretty easy-going person. Lately I've been having to think pretty hard to figure out why people do what they do, though, and it's challenged my belief that there is no absolute right or wrong in most situations.
Here's a good example: I told my mom that Jessica had moved in, and that I was thinking of bringing her home, to Vernon, Alabama, for Thanksgiving. Her response:
"Is she gay?"
I mulled this over for a moment, turned to Jessica, and said, "She wants to know if you're gay."
I know that Jessica is not gay. I also know that trying to explain bisexuality to my mom would only translate as the word as "whore" to her. We're certainly not getting into the married issue.
I did the best I could: "She's dated men, but right now she's in love with me."
That did not go over well at all.
"I am not having her in my house."
"You let me bring Christy home."
"I'm not putting up with this any more. You need to read your bible. I know you believe in God." And on and on.
I did *not* respond with, "Well, no, Mom, I can't believe in a god who would send nice people like me to hell," so figure I'm doing pretty good with restraining myself. Of course, in not saying stuff like that, I'm totally looking out for my own interests. There's not much that's more painful than a religious discussion with my mom.
I hate to think that my mom's beliefs are more important to her than I am, but at times I suspect that's true. Sure, I could tell myself that she really believes I'd be happier if I capitulated to this idea of right and wrong that she has, but I can see how anxiety-ridden she is herself because of those beliefs, and it just doesn't make sense.
So when I feel angry or sad or just weird about that situation or others, I ask myself, as Abraham advises, "What is it about you that makes me feel separated from my source?"
Is it your own obvious lack of connection? Does it remind me of my own shortcomings? Do I envy your passion and conviction? Do I long for some rock to stand on?
And suddenly I feel pretty firmly grounded. I do have a rock to stand on. I know how I feel, and what I believe, and I know why I feel and believe what I do.
At times I have a hard time believing that what I want will magically appear in my life if I firmly hold to the belief that it will. Having a hard time believing it sort of puts a damper on trying, of course. Having said that, I can point to a number of recent events that makes it obvious that it's true.
I cherished every moment with Jessica before, and knew that I wanted a full-time lover like her, yet I had no feeling of lack because she was in my life, and I enjoyed what we had. And now I have a full-time lover exactly like her. Specifically, her. It felt like a pretty fucked up way to get here, but I am really glad we're here all the same.
That's the big one. But there are smaller things, too--like having my house more the way I want it. She wants it the way I want it, too, and it's easier to make it happen with two of us here. I've always wanted to have someone to do NaNoWriMo with me, and she suggested we both do it about a month ago. And so forth.
So I don't know what to do with my mom, or whether I'll go home for Thanksgiving at all at this point. I don't know why my friends behave the way they do; I don't even understand some of what Jessica does, and we're pretty together on most things. I'm not even sure if it's my job to try to figure it all out, but it's what I do.
I guess being in charge of your own happiness doesn't mean you ought to create a vacuum to live in, so that nothing else can interfere with your quest. I think it means appreciate the contrast that comes to you, and whether you shake your head or nod in agreement with the events in your life, hold on most of all to your own source.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Finances
I returned to the Law of Attraction stuff after a month-long funk about my finances. Immediately I had manifested some pretty cool stuff (digital piano, etc), and I've noticed I seem to get a lot more cash tips lately; I've been picturing having more folding money, so that's congruent. Also, my return to concentrating on feeling good has really helped me deal with some stresses in my life and the lives of my friends, and I appreciate that.
My girlfriend is moving in, and because of that I'm having a good look at my finances. She's better than me at keeping up with hers, and I hope she'll be a good influence on me. I updated all my bank accounts in Quicken for the first time in months last night (my general stance is to follow my bliss, and everyone says ignorance is bliss), and I'm happy to say that, while I didn't detect any good news in the process, I didn't find it as discouraging or frustrating as usual. Still discouraged; just not as much as usual. So that's a positive thing, in a way.
I'm hoping that looking at the actual numbers on the computer screen will give me more tools to visualize better finances. If I'm not sure how broke I am it's hard to picture it getting better, I reason. Plus ignorance makes more room for missing payments and getting into trouble in general. Keeping up with it will prove to me that there's nothing to be afraid of, another positive thought that will pave the way toward being in alignment.
I remember when I got my first computer, soon after graduating nursing school. My favorite thing to do was put all my transactions into Quicken and see the numbers neatly add up (or subtract down); watch my credit cards dwindle away to a zero balance; reconcile all my accounts against their statements and always have everything come out correctly. I'm not sure what happened--I think it started when I realized that the power wouldn't get turned off immediately if I missed a payment. In any case, it wasn't fun any more after a few years, and it's felt like a struggle since then, whether I have a good income or a less-than-good one.
My goal is to make it fun again--like an old married couple reconnecting to the love they felt when they first got together. Do they offer marriage counseling for people and their checkbooks?
My girlfriend is moving in, and because of that I'm having a good look at my finances. She's better than me at keeping up with hers, and I hope she'll be a good influence on me. I updated all my bank accounts in Quicken for the first time in months last night (my general stance is to follow my bliss, and everyone says ignorance is bliss), and I'm happy to say that, while I didn't detect any good news in the process, I didn't find it as discouraging or frustrating as usual. Still discouraged; just not as much as usual. So that's a positive thing, in a way.
I'm hoping that looking at the actual numbers on the computer screen will give me more tools to visualize better finances. If I'm not sure how broke I am it's hard to picture it getting better, I reason. Plus ignorance makes more room for missing payments and getting into trouble in general. Keeping up with it will prove to me that there's nothing to be afraid of, another positive thought that will pave the way toward being in alignment.
I remember when I got my first computer, soon after graduating nursing school. My favorite thing to do was put all my transactions into Quicken and see the numbers neatly add up (or subtract down); watch my credit cards dwindle away to a zero balance; reconcile all my accounts against their statements and always have everything come out correctly. I'm not sure what happened--I think it started when I realized that the power wouldn't get turned off immediately if I missed a payment. In any case, it wasn't fun any more after a few years, and it's felt like a struggle since then, whether I have a good income or a less-than-good one.
My goal is to make it fun again--like an old married couple reconnecting to the love they felt when they first got together. Do they offer marriage counseling for people and their checkbooks?
Friday, October 8, 2010
Gesetalt and sharing audiobooks
So . . . my girlfriend asked to borrow an Abraham-Hicks audiobook so she can familiarize herself with them. Not to humor me--I've never pushed the stuff on her, but she sees how I approach different situations and is curious about this perspective I feel so much resonance with.
She did qualify the request by saying, "I'm not sure how I feel about listening to a woman who says she talks to other beings." I told her that Abraham is actually Esther's own higher self, which she has said. That got me thinking.
If I talked to my higher self, I'd probably call it "me." Probably not "Faith" or "Faithy", though. I see that as a label for my physical self.
When Esther started receiving messages from her higher self, she asked the collection of non-physical folks involved what she should call them. They gave her a block of thought which she translated as "Abraham," the same name as the father of 3 of our major religions today. It seemed appropriate because the parts that make sense of all religions come from the same place. Sometimes those parts are pretty well hidden, to be sure, but--there you have it.
So I considered her desire to call her higher self "Abraham", and it occurs to me that it's rather Gestalt. In Gestalt therapy, you (this is a simplified explanation) pretend that whoever it is you're having issues with is sitting in an empty chair with you and you talk it out with them, whether it's your dead father or your husband or your cat or your cirrhotic liver. You're not actually talking to them, of course--you're talking to an empty chair. But it makes it easier to connect to the part of yourself that resonates with them and resolve the conflict within yourself.
Ooh--and Abraham's teachings are all about having a better relationship with yourself, so that fits right in, doesn't it?
So, it's sort of like Esther having Gestalt therapy by herself without it necessarily being about her issues. In a way. I have no idea what she'd think of that explanation, but it seems an apt metaphor to me. Much understanding, I find, is based in metaphor until personal experience and true knowing comes.
Happy Friday, folks!
She did qualify the request by saying, "I'm not sure how I feel about listening to a woman who says she talks to other beings." I told her that Abraham is actually Esther's own higher self, which she has said. That got me thinking.
If I talked to my higher self, I'd probably call it "me." Probably not "Faith" or "Faithy", though. I see that as a label for my physical self.
When Esther started receiving messages from her higher self, she asked the collection of non-physical folks involved what she should call them. They gave her a block of thought which she translated as "Abraham," the same name as the father of 3 of our major religions today. It seemed appropriate because the parts that make sense of all religions come from the same place. Sometimes those parts are pretty well hidden, to be sure, but--there you have it.
So I considered her desire to call her higher self "Abraham", and it occurs to me that it's rather Gestalt. In Gestalt therapy, you (this is a simplified explanation) pretend that whoever it is you're having issues with is sitting in an empty chair with you and you talk it out with them, whether it's your dead father or your husband or your cat or your cirrhotic liver. You're not actually talking to them, of course--you're talking to an empty chair. But it makes it easier to connect to the part of yourself that resonates with them and resolve the conflict within yourself.
Ooh--and Abraham's teachings are all about having a better relationship with yourself, so that fits right in, doesn't it?
So, it's sort of like Esther having Gestalt therapy by herself without it necessarily being about her issues. In a way. I have no idea what she'd think of that explanation, but it seems an apt metaphor to me. Much understanding, I find, is based in metaphor until personal experience and true knowing comes.
Happy Friday, folks!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Movies . . . old ones
Last night I forced my girlfriend to watch The Secret Garden with me. Not the Hallmark Hall of Fame version; the American Zoetrope one with Kate Maberly and Maggie Smith. It's one of my favorite movies of all time. Even though it's considered a family feature, she condescended to watch it with me and agreed that she enjoyed it during and afterward.
I remembered a little bit of the Law of Attraction connection with it--Colin fixing his mind on his father's return, specifically--but I'd forgotten a lot of other Abraham-compatible themes.
Kids throwing tantrums, for example, when coerced away from their higher selves. Well-meaning grown-ups getting it all wrong. Doing and thinking what you can to feel better, like growing a garden or making friends with a robin. Moving from despair to anger to hope to joy. Realizing that if you're miserable, you can choose to feel better, and action taken in the vortex is disproportionately productive.
Once Colin accepted the possibility that he could walk, the path to becoming a healthy boy was quick. Colin's father did nothing more than listen to the call of his heart and travel home to find joy. And Mary, god bless her, refused to be coerced by Mrs. Metlock and found her own path to redemption.
Martha's just a fucking saint. Though I gotta admit I still wouldn't let her tickle me if I were Mary. I hate tickling.
Strong-willed children. They're a pain in the ass, but you gotta love 'em. Reminds me of myself a bit, though these 3 far outshine anything I managed to achieve at their age.
A Room with a View is probably my favorite movie of all time. It's funny; I don't see myself as a period piece kinda girl, but . . . here it is.
I discovered this movie when I was in college--at the Christian college--and immediately fell in love . . . with Helena Bonham-Carter. I was more than a little wigged out by my feelings for her, my first real movie-star crush. Sure, I tried to manufacture feelings for Luke Duke (Bo was too blond) and later Jamison Parker's character in Simon and Simon (despite his blondness) . . . oh, and Pierce Brosnan in Remington Steele. This, though, was different. This was an actual, uncalled-for crush, not an attempt to feel what other people felt when they watched their screen idols. Disconcerting at best. I thought I should have a crush on Julian Sands; instead, I wanted to be him.
I got a VHS copy before I even owned a VCR.
The movie, though, spoke to me even more than my crush on its star. Her character, Lucy Bartlett, is a fiercely independent girl who still feels compelled to conform to what she thinks her family, friends and society at large expected from her. This theme--what's proper versus what's good and true--is repeated throughout the movie: in the contrast between her fiance (prim and proper Cecil, played by Daniel Day-Lewis) and her true love (sincere and wild George, played by Julian Sands); between George's unconventional father and society at large; and best of all between Lucy's expectations of everyone's opinions and their actual thoughts once she finds them out. Being true to yourself, Abraham-style, is always a good thing.
So this is next on the show-to-the-girlfriend list. At least this one has some full frontal nudity, though no sex scenes.
These movies reaffirm a couple of beliefs of mine:
For one, a film that preserves the themes of the literature it's based upon is a much better show than anything Hollywood-ized. I've read both books, and while the books are much more in depth in their treatment of the themes, the basics are still there and tangible.
For another, really good movies have an increased chance of casting Maggie Smith. She's in both.
I remembered a little bit of the Law of Attraction connection with it--Colin fixing his mind on his father's return, specifically--but I'd forgotten a lot of other Abraham-compatible themes.
Kids throwing tantrums, for example, when coerced away from their higher selves. Well-meaning grown-ups getting it all wrong. Doing and thinking what you can to feel better, like growing a garden or making friends with a robin. Moving from despair to anger to hope to joy. Realizing that if you're miserable, you can choose to feel better, and action taken in the vortex is disproportionately productive.
Once Colin accepted the possibility that he could walk, the path to becoming a healthy boy was quick. Colin's father did nothing more than listen to the call of his heart and travel home to find joy. And Mary, god bless her, refused to be coerced by Mrs. Metlock and found her own path to redemption.
Martha's just a fucking saint. Though I gotta admit I still wouldn't let her tickle me if I were Mary. I hate tickling.
Strong-willed children. They're a pain in the ass, but you gotta love 'em. Reminds me of myself a bit, though these 3 far outshine anything I managed to achieve at their age.
A Room with a View is probably my favorite movie of all time. It's funny; I don't see myself as a period piece kinda girl, but . . . here it is.
I discovered this movie when I was in college--at the Christian college--and immediately fell in love . . . with Helena Bonham-Carter. I was more than a little wigged out by my feelings for her, my first real movie-star crush. Sure, I tried to manufacture feelings for Luke Duke (Bo was too blond) and later Jamison Parker's character in Simon and Simon (despite his blondness) . . . oh, and Pierce Brosnan in Remington Steele. This, though, was different. This was an actual, uncalled-for crush, not an attempt to feel what other people felt when they watched their screen idols. Disconcerting at best. I thought I should have a crush on Julian Sands; instead, I wanted to be him.
I got a VHS copy before I even owned a VCR.
The movie, though, spoke to me even more than my crush on its star. Her character, Lucy Bartlett, is a fiercely independent girl who still feels compelled to conform to what she thinks her family, friends and society at large expected from her. This theme--what's proper versus what's good and true--is repeated throughout the movie: in the contrast between her fiance (prim and proper Cecil, played by Daniel Day-Lewis) and her true love (sincere and wild George, played by Julian Sands); between George's unconventional father and society at large; and best of all between Lucy's expectations of everyone's opinions and their actual thoughts once she finds them out. Being true to yourself, Abraham-style, is always a good thing.
So this is next on the show-to-the-girlfriend list. At least this one has some full frontal nudity, though no sex scenes.
These movies reaffirm a couple of beliefs of mine:
For one, a film that preserves the themes of the literature it's based upon is a much better show than anything Hollywood-ized. I've read both books, and while the books are much more in depth in their treatment of the themes, the basics are still there and tangible.
For another, really good movies have an increased chance of casting Maggie Smith. She's in both.
Everything is Hunky-Dory
When I was in my 20's, I struggled with depression.
I knew that I'd never have the balls to kill myself. My fear of hell and my conviction that I'd go straight there if I took my life probably saved me. I knew exactly how I'd do it, though.
Many nurses have a morbid habit of talking about what they see at work and how they'd do it differently. This extends to people who are hospitalized for trying to kill themselves and failing. I remember one guy bitching about a patient who overdosed on Tylenol and ended up just ruining his liver. He scoffed and said if he ever wanted to kill himself, he'd do a shotgun to his face. Not a rifle or a revolver--bullets can miss the life support systems in your brain, and then you'd just end up maimed.
That got me to thinking. I always knew I never wanted a gun. My dad wanted to get me one for my college graduation, but I knew I'd be more likely to shoot myself than anybody else. So I decided on insulin. 100 mg IV. I have pretty good veins so I'd be able to pull it off on the first try.
Like I said, lucky I had an unhealthy fear of hell.
Of course, when I finally decided not to believe in hell, my reasons for being depressed soon dissipated as well. I was no longer trapped in an illogical religion with unrealistic expectations of what should make me happy and what shouldn't; all true fulfillment deferred until after death.
Throughout that time--the depressed time, I mean--I feared I didn't have emotions like other people. I dated a guy in college who wondered if I was ever excited about anything. Sure, I laughed, I cried, but overall my emotions felt very muted, as if I were a bystander watching myself react.
I remember the first few times I got dumped or refused (it was a pretty regular occurrence) after coming out as a lesbian. I was miserable, feeling piercing pain, and yet I was happy to feel that pain. It proved to me that I was alive--more alive than I'd been before then, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I think that's what Abraham means when they say they don't expect people to stop having negative feelings, but in the vortex you can still have a feeling of satisfaction or fulfillment. In that pain, I also felt hope. It was an indicator that my life was changing.
Of course, I didn't feel constant hope. I was pretty despondent at times, but I still felt alive.
I was thinking about all of this today, and about someone asking Abraham why it often seems the shit hits the fan after starting to practice their teachings. (I hate putting it that way--it makes it sound like a religion or something, but it's the best I could come up with at the moment.) Their answer is that once you have a stronger desire to be in a good place emotionally, the bad places feel that much more poignant.
So, yeah, a few pieces of shit have definitely hit the fan in the last few weeks. Watching my dog suffering after surgery; watching friends deal with their own uncertainty; trying to figure out what my role is, or should be, or could be in all of it--there's definitely stuff going on that's not fun. Thank the gods the dog is better.
I think my returned attention to this philosophy, though, is more than helping me cope. I know that I choose how I react to everything--not just in action, but in thought and feeling as well. I know that bringing my attention to the best possible outcome is much more helpful than dwelling on what could be, or could have been, or ought to be. If nothing else, it's allows for one less blaming voice in the universe, as easy as it would be to blame individuals or society for how things appear to be currently.
I can't blame my parents for bringing me up in a restrictive, confusing religion. I can't blame my dog for getting a tumor. I can't blame my friends for going through struggles. What's more liberating, though, is knowing that I can't blame myself for any of these things, either. Sure, you create your own reality. But it's not like you did it on purpose. I spent years blaming others and myself for my crummy feelings, and I can tell you--it only got me so far. It's a step up from despair, but only a step.
Hmm. I didn't start out meaning to talk about blame.
I started out to say that, even though I try to be positive about a lot of things on this blog, that's a conscious effort I'm making. I ain't no fucking saint, and my physical reality is nowhere near caught up to the ideal I've created for myself.
So I test every thought, every feeling, to see if it's a little better or a little worse than the one that came before it. Sometimes anger feels a little better; sometimes a little worse. Sometimes hope is easier to come by than other times, but I know it's always there waiting for me to catch up to it.
And those moments when I run into friends in the park or meet a neighbor's new puppy, I milk those good feelings for all they're worth. What will happen tomorrow will happen. No point in obsessing over it; might as well enjoy the puppy. And that feels really, really good.
I knew that I'd never have the balls to kill myself. My fear of hell and my conviction that I'd go straight there if I took my life probably saved me. I knew exactly how I'd do it, though.
Many nurses have a morbid habit of talking about what they see at work and how they'd do it differently. This extends to people who are hospitalized for trying to kill themselves and failing. I remember one guy bitching about a patient who overdosed on Tylenol and ended up just ruining his liver. He scoffed and said if he ever wanted to kill himself, he'd do a shotgun to his face. Not a rifle or a revolver--bullets can miss the life support systems in your brain, and then you'd just end up maimed.
That got me to thinking. I always knew I never wanted a gun. My dad wanted to get me one for my college graduation, but I knew I'd be more likely to shoot myself than anybody else. So I decided on insulin. 100 mg IV. I have pretty good veins so I'd be able to pull it off on the first try.
Like I said, lucky I had an unhealthy fear of hell.
Of course, when I finally decided not to believe in hell, my reasons for being depressed soon dissipated as well. I was no longer trapped in an illogical religion with unrealistic expectations of what should make me happy and what shouldn't; all true fulfillment deferred until after death.
Throughout that time--the depressed time, I mean--I feared I didn't have emotions like other people. I dated a guy in college who wondered if I was ever excited about anything. Sure, I laughed, I cried, but overall my emotions felt very muted, as if I were a bystander watching myself react.
I remember the first few times I got dumped or refused (it was a pretty regular occurrence) after coming out as a lesbian. I was miserable, feeling piercing pain, and yet I was happy to feel that pain. It proved to me that I was alive--more alive than I'd been before then, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I think that's what Abraham means when they say they don't expect people to stop having negative feelings, but in the vortex you can still have a feeling of satisfaction or fulfillment. In that pain, I also felt hope. It was an indicator that my life was changing.
Of course, I didn't feel constant hope. I was pretty despondent at times, but I still felt alive.
I was thinking about all of this today, and about someone asking Abraham why it often seems the shit hits the fan after starting to practice their teachings. (I hate putting it that way--it makes it sound like a religion or something, but it's the best I could come up with at the moment.) Their answer is that once you have a stronger desire to be in a good place emotionally, the bad places feel that much more poignant.
So, yeah, a few pieces of shit have definitely hit the fan in the last few weeks. Watching my dog suffering after surgery; watching friends deal with their own uncertainty; trying to figure out what my role is, or should be, or could be in all of it--there's definitely stuff going on that's not fun. Thank the gods the dog is better.
I think my returned attention to this philosophy, though, is more than helping me cope. I know that I choose how I react to everything--not just in action, but in thought and feeling as well. I know that bringing my attention to the best possible outcome is much more helpful than dwelling on what could be, or could have been, or ought to be. If nothing else, it's allows for one less blaming voice in the universe, as easy as it would be to blame individuals or society for how things appear to be currently.
I can't blame my parents for bringing me up in a restrictive, confusing religion. I can't blame my dog for getting a tumor. I can't blame my friends for going through struggles. What's more liberating, though, is knowing that I can't blame myself for any of these things, either. Sure, you create your own reality. But it's not like you did it on purpose. I spent years blaming others and myself for my crummy feelings, and I can tell you--it only got me so far. It's a step up from despair, but only a step.
Hmm. I didn't start out meaning to talk about blame.
I started out to say that, even though I try to be positive about a lot of things on this blog, that's a conscious effort I'm making. I ain't no fucking saint, and my physical reality is nowhere near caught up to the ideal I've created for myself.
So I test every thought, every feeling, to see if it's a little better or a little worse than the one that came before it. Sometimes anger feels a little better; sometimes a little worse. Sometimes hope is easier to come by than other times, but I know it's always there waiting for me to catch up to it.
And those moments when I run into friends in the park or meet a neighbor's new puppy, I milk those good feelings for all they're worth. What will happen tomorrow will happen. No point in obsessing over it; might as well enjoy the puppy. And that feels really, really good.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Permission granted :)
Jessica, aka uber-hot girlfriend, gave me permission to publish a pic of her. This isn't the hottest pic of her, but I love it, as Dmitri-boy is giving her love in a french sort of way.
housekeeping
You've probably noticed by now that the blog is in a new place. I've heard good things about Blogger, and I have several friends who have blogs here, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. Linking to Amazon products is certainly easier; I've included a link to the book I'm currently listening to, which is, so far, fascinating, of course.
Whatever your thoughts about where Esther Hicks gets her material from, I think you'll agree that the stuff she comes up with is pretty right-on. I have pretty vivid memories of my childhood, and when she talks about how we are trained out of our connection with our own source, I have a strong connection to those ideas. Specifically, that we are source energy (god), that our physical selves are extensions of that source energy, and that we are still the non-physical source all at once has great resonance for me.
I like to use the term 'god', where Abraham/Esther tends to shy away from it. They/she shy away from it because there are a lot of crazy ideas out there about who or what god is, and they don't want to confuse people. I like to use it because when I think that way, I realize that I really do create my own reality--I really do have the power to be or do whatever I want.
Speaking of god, I am reminded of my friend Doug. While he snorts at a lot of metaphysical stuff (let's admit, it's pretty easy to snort at), he will readily admit to knowing that he is god. He is a very evidence-oriented guy, but he doesn't let current evidence cloud his view of what could be, and because of that he's built a pretty enviable life for himself, if you're prone to envy (I don't recommend envy myself). Generally speaking he doesn't give a rat's ass about what other people think (a great sign of alignment), yet he is one of the most generous people I know.
Don't get me wrong--he's not the dalai lama or anything. I've seen him torn between what he wants and what others seem to want for him, and I'm sure it makes him pretty miserable. In those moments, I would hazard a guess that he's not feeling too god-like. He's a solution-oriented fellow, though, and always seems to end up in a better place no matter what's going on. He's the skeptic's model of the Law of Attraction in action. (He will likely laugh if he reads this.)
But back to my reading material. I'm totally digging The Vortex, and I totally dig what Esther/Abraham says/say about relationships in other places, too.
One of my favorite things she/they have said (this is getting cumbersome; for clarity, I think I'll switch to just Abraham and they, as Esther claims Abraham is a plural entity, which may be less clear for people who aren't familiar with them, but--oh, well), was in response to someone asking how best to raise their children. The essence of their response was to say two things:
Whatever your thoughts about where Esther Hicks gets her material from, I think you'll agree that the stuff she comes up with is pretty right-on. I have pretty vivid memories of my childhood, and when she talks about how we are trained out of our connection with our own source, I have a strong connection to those ideas. Specifically, that we are source energy (god), that our physical selves are extensions of that source energy, and that we are still the non-physical source all at once has great resonance for me.
I like to use the term 'god', where Abraham/Esther tends to shy away from it. They/she shy away from it because there are a lot of crazy ideas out there about who or what god is, and they don't want to confuse people. I like to use it because when I think that way, I realize that I really do create my own reality--I really do have the power to be or do whatever I want.
Speaking of god, I am reminded of my friend Doug. While he snorts at a lot of metaphysical stuff (let's admit, it's pretty easy to snort at), he will readily admit to knowing that he is god. He is a very evidence-oriented guy, but he doesn't let current evidence cloud his view of what could be, and because of that he's built a pretty enviable life for himself, if you're prone to envy (I don't recommend envy myself). Generally speaking he doesn't give a rat's ass about what other people think (a great sign of alignment), yet he is one of the most generous people I know.
Don't get me wrong--he's not the dalai lama or anything. I've seen him torn between what he wants and what others seem to want for him, and I'm sure it makes him pretty miserable. In those moments, I would hazard a guess that he's not feeling too god-like. He's a solution-oriented fellow, though, and always seems to end up in a better place no matter what's going on. He's the skeptic's model of the Law of Attraction in action. (He will likely laugh if he reads this.)
But back to my reading material. I'm totally digging The Vortex, and I totally dig what Esther/Abraham says/say about relationships in other places, too.
One of my favorite things she/they have said (this is getting cumbersome; for clarity, I think I'll switch to just Abraham and they, as Esther claims Abraham is a plural entity, which may be less clear for people who aren't familiar with them, but--oh, well), was in response to someone asking how best to raise their children. The essence of their response was to say two things:
It is not my job to make you happy.
I really, really want you to be happy.
And really, that's the best way to approach all relationships, and from both ends. It's not anyone else's job to make me happy, either, but I really really love being happy with them. Now, if your lover is upset about something and says it's not your job to make her happy, I don't recommend agreeing with her without qualifying it by saying you really really want her to be happy. Thus speaks the voice of experience.
And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Realizing that you can't control other people, and that if you could that wouldn't help you be any happier, really. It's much more fun to be free and together. Challenges come; focus on the solution, not on trying to fix behavior to fit into your idea of what is right or best. That's never the solution.
Ok, that's really not what I sat down to talk about at all, but I enjoyed spouting wisdom for a moment there.
Housekeeping:
If you have ideas about how to make this blogger thing cooler/more legible/more interactive/more fun for you, post a comment.
Please be patient if the look of the blog changes every few hours while I figure out how it works.
There are now adsense ads to your right; feel free to click on them; I'll get a fraction of a penny if you do. I have no control over those ads, though, so if clicking through takes you to a site for a church of some weird metaphysical oddity, consider it an opportunity for entertainment.
Forgive the Amazon plugs; I'm saving up for a Kindle. Buy something through the link if you want to help.
There's a subscribe button to the right, if you want to be notified of new posts.
My house is a wreck. Send suggestions if you know how to come into greater alignment with your inner physical housekeeper.
Happy Wednesday!
Monday, October 4, 2010
Monday, Monday . . . so good to me
I slept until 11:30 this morning. That automatically makes it a good day.
On my list of things to do is laundry (first load in) and a visit to a tailor to see if they can make a jacket actually fit me. I have high hopes. Also on the list is a visit to the vet to get Dmitri's staples removed (yay!) and get his butt looked at (boo!). It looks like something bit him--there's hair missing and a little scrapey-bitey looking place in the naked part. It doesn't seem to hurt him, so again, I have high hopes.
His pathology report came back last week; the vet successfully removed the whole tumor with magnificent margins (if you don't know much about cancer, that means there shouldn't be any cells floating around to make new tumors, so that's good), and it's a grade II mast cell tumor, which is treated with surgery only. So--technically, he's cured. We've had a very happy weekend celebrating that. I gauge how he feels by how much of the time his tail is curled over his back (like a husky) as opposed to hanging down (like a shepherd), and it's curled all the time now. Yay, Dmitri-boy! I can't wait to show him off at the vet.
He's a beautiful pup, as you can see.
[caption id="attachment_99" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="My Handsome Pup"]
[/caption]
One thing that's super-cool about him (and about all animals) is that he lives in the present. When he was uncomfortable from the surgery, that's all that existed for him, and I felt for him. As soon as he felt better, though, it was business as usual. Life is about naps and walks and treats; no worries about how he felt yesterday or will feel tomorrow. He is happy boy once again, and I'm thrilled.
I normally spend Mondays with my girlfriend (you remember, the uber-hot one; I gotta ask if I can put a picture of her up here so you can appreciate the hotness). Today she is with her husband, though. He's been out of town for a couple of weeks, which is the longest they've been apart since before they got married 18 years ago. We've enjoyed the extra time we had together, but I know she missed him and is eager to catch up and have some quality time with him. They've had an open relationship off and on for most of their marriage, but polyamory (having actual relationships instead of just playing around here and there) is new this year for them, and it's important to all of us that everyone feels fulfilled in the arrangement.
It's interesting to me that rather than feeling jealous of her time with him, I really love that she has him. Don't get me wrong--I miss her when I don't get to see her, but knowing that she's with someone she loves makes me happy. I think it says a lot about them as individuals and as a couple that they've stuck together for 18 years (rare in people who married in their teens); that they feel safe letting each other pursue other relationships; that when they hit bumps they keep talking until they work it out. I, for one, have a bad habit of clamming up and hoping that whatever's bothering me will eventually evaporate, and I've learned a lot about communication and relationships just from watching them.
Plus, they're both really cool, really fun people. Even if I weren't romantically involved with the wife, I'd still feel a strong pull to them both as individuals and as a couple.
I'm feeling a rampage of appreciation coming on. Hold on!
My friends are more attractive than the average couple. My friends are more loving than the average couple. My friends are more fun than the average couple. They love each other deeply. They appreciate each others' love for others. They are generous with each other. They are generous with their friends. They're a fuck of a lot of fun to be around. They love animals. They love people. They enjoy life. They're not afraid to enjoy life. When an opportunity presents itself they dive in rather than debating until the opportunity passes. They're smart, and smart is sexy. They're the most unpretentious people I know. I feel loved and appreciated and safe to be myself around them both. They bring out the best in others. They bring out the best in me. They always look out for their friends. They welcome people into their lives. They're gracious hosts. They throw a great party. They're easy to relax with. They've always met me where I am. They know how to make a girl feel special. I feel rich when I'm with them. They're just . . . fucking . . . awesome. And they ride motorcycles.
I'm feeling all kinds of smiley now.
On my list of things to do is laundry (first load in) and a visit to a tailor to see if they can make a jacket actually fit me. I have high hopes. Also on the list is a visit to the vet to get Dmitri's staples removed (yay!) and get his butt looked at (boo!). It looks like something bit him--there's hair missing and a little scrapey-bitey looking place in the naked part. It doesn't seem to hurt him, so again, I have high hopes.
His pathology report came back last week; the vet successfully removed the whole tumor with magnificent margins (if you don't know much about cancer, that means there shouldn't be any cells floating around to make new tumors, so that's good), and it's a grade II mast cell tumor, which is treated with surgery only. So--technically, he's cured. We've had a very happy weekend celebrating that. I gauge how he feels by how much of the time his tail is curled over his back (like a husky) as opposed to hanging down (like a shepherd), and it's curled all the time now. Yay, Dmitri-boy! I can't wait to show him off at the vet.
He's a beautiful pup, as you can see.
[caption id="attachment_99" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="My Handsome Pup"]
[/caption]One thing that's super-cool about him (and about all animals) is that he lives in the present. When he was uncomfortable from the surgery, that's all that existed for him, and I felt for him. As soon as he felt better, though, it was business as usual. Life is about naps and walks and treats; no worries about how he felt yesterday or will feel tomorrow. He is happy boy once again, and I'm thrilled.
I normally spend Mondays with my girlfriend (you remember, the uber-hot one; I gotta ask if I can put a picture of her up here so you can appreciate the hotness). Today she is with her husband, though. He's been out of town for a couple of weeks, which is the longest they've been apart since before they got married 18 years ago. We've enjoyed the extra time we had together, but I know she missed him and is eager to catch up and have some quality time with him. They've had an open relationship off and on for most of their marriage, but polyamory (having actual relationships instead of just playing around here and there) is new this year for them, and it's important to all of us that everyone feels fulfilled in the arrangement.
It's interesting to me that rather than feeling jealous of her time with him, I really love that she has him. Don't get me wrong--I miss her when I don't get to see her, but knowing that she's with someone she loves makes me happy. I think it says a lot about them as individuals and as a couple that they've stuck together for 18 years (rare in people who married in their teens); that they feel safe letting each other pursue other relationships; that when they hit bumps they keep talking until they work it out. I, for one, have a bad habit of clamming up and hoping that whatever's bothering me will eventually evaporate, and I've learned a lot about communication and relationships just from watching them.
Plus, they're both really cool, really fun people. Even if I weren't romantically involved with the wife, I'd still feel a strong pull to them both as individuals and as a couple.
I'm feeling a rampage of appreciation coming on. Hold on!
My friends are more attractive than the average couple. My friends are more loving than the average couple. My friends are more fun than the average couple. They love each other deeply. They appreciate each others' love for others. They are generous with each other. They are generous with their friends. They're a fuck of a lot of fun to be around. They love animals. They love people. They enjoy life. They're not afraid to enjoy life. When an opportunity presents itself they dive in rather than debating until the opportunity passes. They're smart, and smart is sexy. They're the most unpretentious people I know. I feel loved and appreciated and safe to be myself around them both. They bring out the best in others. They bring out the best in me. They always look out for their friends. They welcome people into their lives. They're gracious hosts. They throw a great party. They're easy to relax with. They've always met me where I am. They know how to make a girl feel special. I feel rich when I'm with them. They're just . . . fucking . . . awesome. And they ride motorcycles.
I'm feeling all kinds of smiley now.
Friday, October 1, 2010
It gets better
There has been a rash of gay teenagers committing suicide in the news. In every case, the kids have been bullied, the authorities haven't taken steps to stop the bullying, and families have been outraged that their children could find so little support in their communities that they felt the best course of action is to take their own lives.
A lot of talk in the gay community is for getting anti-bullying laws passed. What I find interesting is that assault is already illegal; destruction of property is already illegal, and I wonder whether having a different law on the books for the same crimes will make a huge difference. Sure, it will show public support for kids who don't fit into their peers' ideas of who they should be or how they should act, but will it make a difference on the ground, or will attention to violent behavior only create more such behavior?
I'm reminded of the recent issue of Constance McMillan wanting to take her girlfriend to the prom in a small town in Mississippi. In an effort to force acceptance, or at least equal rights, her family sued the school board, forced an equal prom, and ended up with a mixed bag of results. The people who didn't want her at their prom just had a private prom, and only a handful of people ended up at the official prom. Homophobic classmates blamed Constance for ruining their fun. Yet, Constance became a public figure, made numerous appearances on national television, won enough money from the lawsuit to pay for her college education, and is now a hero to many.
I gotta admit, if I saw someone taunting a gay kid, I'd have a strong urge to grab my baseball bat and make a major scene, but I'd know that the solution would be only temporary and would likely cause worse repercussions for the kid when I wasn't around with my bat to protect him or her. Maybe I'd let the kid keep my bat.
Dan Savage, one of my personal heroes, came up with a great idea to let the kids know there is hope for them after high school. It's a YouTube project called "It Gets Better," that offers a place for adult gays to tell their stories of how they, too, had a rough time in school but are living happy, fulfilling, love-filled lives now. Dan and his partner Terry's video can be found here.
I don't know how Dan would feel about me saying this, but I think his idea is right out of the vortex. Rather than dwelling on hate and anger and lashing out at those who do wrong, it's important to impart to everybody that there is hope--that life can be good, that it will be good, despite what's going on right now. Live in that hope, and things can only get better.
A lot of talk in the gay community is for getting anti-bullying laws passed. What I find interesting is that assault is already illegal; destruction of property is already illegal, and I wonder whether having a different law on the books for the same crimes will make a huge difference. Sure, it will show public support for kids who don't fit into their peers' ideas of who they should be or how they should act, but will it make a difference on the ground, or will attention to violent behavior only create more such behavior?
I'm reminded of the recent issue of Constance McMillan wanting to take her girlfriend to the prom in a small town in Mississippi. In an effort to force acceptance, or at least equal rights, her family sued the school board, forced an equal prom, and ended up with a mixed bag of results. The people who didn't want her at their prom just had a private prom, and only a handful of people ended up at the official prom. Homophobic classmates blamed Constance for ruining their fun. Yet, Constance became a public figure, made numerous appearances on national television, won enough money from the lawsuit to pay for her college education, and is now a hero to many.
I gotta admit, if I saw someone taunting a gay kid, I'd have a strong urge to grab my baseball bat and make a major scene, but I'd know that the solution would be only temporary and would likely cause worse repercussions for the kid when I wasn't around with my bat to protect him or her. Maybe I'd let the kid keep my bat.
Dan Savage, one of my personal heroes, came up with a great idea to let the kids know there is hope for them after high school. It's a YouTube project called "It Gets Better," that offers a place for adult gays to tell their stories of how they, too, had a rough time in school but are living happy, fulfilling, love-filled lives now. Dan and his partner Terry's video can be found here.
I don't know how Dan would feel about me saying this, but I think his idea is right out of the vortex. Rather than dwelling on hate and anger and lashing out at those who do wrong, it's important to impart to everybody that there is hope--that life can be good, that it will be good, despite what's going on right now. Live in that hope, and things can only get better.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)