So, it's 3:00 am, 3 hours after Thanksgiving. I said the initial hellos, gave the greeting handshakes, 2-3 pat masculine hugs, faux cheek kisses, then tipped the glass and whispered the self-encouraging “here we go.” And so I went. Some cleaning, cooking, terrible football, good beer, dressing up, sitting down, uncorking and thanksgiving later, here I sit pregnant with turkey. I wasn't drunk, but I might as well have been, because everything tonight and the past few days has been surreal. I don't know how to describe it. Like a visit to the zoo? Snorkeling in a glass-bottom boat? Virtual reality in black and white 3-D? A late night pop-up picture book? I feel like walking up to somebody and asking, “Hi, my name is Benjamin, do you know a place where I fit in?”
Ever go to those places where you're living life on the balcony rather than on stage? When there, or here as it were, I mostly think back to my past: the mango juice in Ethiopia, the tea and curry in India, the carne asada backyard BBQ in Mexico, the crawdad buffet in Missouri, etc. No, I'm not hungry. None of the above were about the food. No dressing up or down was involved. It seems like I should be at these places, but I know that if I were there, I would feel the same way. Out of place. Not at home. Traveling. Transient. Passing through, if not around. I don't know what has happened to me. Did I climb a beanstalk somewhere? Who kicked me out of the plane over this place? It is so weird to feel as an alien in your hometown. Even without knowing my place, I feel so incredibly that this is not it. Perhaps I should just keep my bags packed.
And yes, I'm slightly terrified. Even more so because of the relative truth I recognize at this moment: I don't know who I am. Scary how my environment can make or break that for me. Most everywhere I go I surmise that if these people are my mirrors, then I'm in some sort of Fun House at a county fair. You'd think I would realize by now that it doesn't really matter whether I am the polka dot or the stripe, it just is. So I'm not really learning as much as realizing the vast amount of crap I have to learn and be if I am to belong at all. Sort of a 'pick your adventure' type thing. I'm still a kid, like most adults. I need some help, like a hint guide or a GPS Magic 8-Ball. Actually, I need a lot more than that. A lot more. I need someone or something to fill this void between me and everything else.
I need someone to ask me “What happened?” Just crack the flood gates a bit. Ask me a question. Approach me, offering nothing but me and my story. Hand me an empty spoon, glass, or bowl; give me an opportunity. A moment to tell all, as far as all can go in a conversation, and let it spill out wherever in may into the flooded low lands of mercy. I sit silently hoping for permission, an invitation or request, into the realm of listening that I long to be a citizen of. I am here anxiously awaiting a voice of open ears and eyes; drunk or sober, sane or fucked up, classy or bootstrapped. They don't even have to remember our conversation.
I do not know how long I can contain it. I do know who I can trust with it. I try, as always prior, to the trusting. Though I am left with few choices, I prefer it that way. So many have dropped and let shatter much of what I cherish, a tragedy we all share. I have learned that when standing at the door of potential invitation. I feel like a door-to-door salesman. Pathetic, but with a significant product. Pathetic, crying for attention, especially so much selfless attention, but just as real as old. Alienated in a 'I am me but this is not me' sort of way.
Then again, this reminds me of so much. Being out of the country for a year, readjustment, also known as just adjustment, has to occur. After a long trip, coming home is always the hardest part of leaving it.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Ten Minute Poetry?
For a few broken minutes
I'm going to sit outside
Gonna let the sweat dry
From the inside without
Wrap to unfold to laid out
A hold, a control of me
Just to be
For a few broken minutes
I'm going to cry
Sit down in the shower
Let my eyes die
Taste my salted wet
Smell the ocean set
Upon steam off my broken heart
For a few broken minutes
I'm going to breathe in deep
Let my mind sleep
Through the errant flow
A concentrated blow
Let it glint my soul
And take me all down
For a few broken minutes
I'm going to sit outside
Look up in the sky
Stare at bugs in the light
Feel small in the night
Zoom in at the stars
And see the flames of space
For a few broken minutes
I'll feel the earth turn
To learn its trembles
Like they were my own
In sync with all I need
Balance and symphonies
Of silent time
For a few broken minutes
No one but me to need
Life without hope
A chance for pause
Stopping the cause
Broken space and time
To sit and unwind
I'm going to sit outside
Gonna let the sweat dry
From the inside without
Wrap to unfold to laid out
A hold, a control of me
Just to be
For a few broken minutes
I'm going to cry
Sit down in the shower
Let my eyes die
Taste my salted wet
Smell the ocean set
Upon steam off my broken heart
For a few broken minutes
I'm going to breathe in deep
Let my mind sleep
Through the errant flow
A concentrated blow
Let it glint my soul
And take me all down
For a few broken minutes
I'm going to sit outside
Look up in the sky
Stare at bugs in the light
Feel small in the night
Zoom in at the stars
And see the flames of space
For a few broken minutes
I'll feel the earth turn
To learn its trembles
Like they were my own
In sync with all I need
Balance and symphonies
Of silent time
For a few broken minutes
No one but me to need
Life without hope
A chance for pause
Stopping the cause
Broken space and time
To sit and unwind
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Therapy Notes
The budget came close to $3,000.00 in therapy bills. So, I thought I would post my raw self-actualization notes taken on loaned paper from my final session. If not for you to read, then they're for me to remember.
DOUGLAS L. ZABRISKIE, LMFT
Licensed Marriage Family Therapist, MFT 28192
Licensed Marriage Family Therapist, MFT 28192
Cognitive Behavioral
Biggest Lie ------> Negative - If I get your complete energy and attention, I'll be okay
Relationships
- Project into the future and becoming afraid
- come back to "NOW"
- Catastrophize - asking "What if?" (see above)
- Practice meditation, prayer, breathing
- Deal with practical present issues
- Becoming okay with uncomfortable feeling
- Insecurities - non-real
- Practice relaxing
- Feel anxious - attach to cause
- start to panic
- Practice saying "I have an uncomfortable sensation in my body, but there is no need to tense up or panic."
- Tolerate bad feelings
- do something with energy
- Little boy feelings
- don't expect so much from yourself
- give yourself a break FREQUENTLY
- go to safe place
- bunker, fire pillar
- have your inner adult take over with "Dad talk"
- Give yourself positive affirmations
- Remind self of character, accomplishments, etc.
- Remind self of security
- "I'm attractive to women"
- Practice "I want to be..." instead of "I don't want to be..."
- I'm lovable
- Important part of friends/family
- I am lovable even if I'm insecure
Biggest Lie ------> Negative - If I get your complete energy and attention, I'll be okay
- Laugh. How much attention do I really need?
- Keep evaluating trust
- Let go of emotional control
- will kill relationships
- Start slow, but with honesty
- less emotional intimacy
- lower expectations
- don't let initial attraction rule you
- Trust unfolds, you don't need to create it
Relationships
- Blame others or self
- Back off, time, think about what's really bothering you
- Awareness practice
- safety experiments - trust tests
- Do they accept me?
- start with little things
- Counteract punishment effect
- tendency to not trust women
- suspicion, paranoia of cheating
- healthy intimacy boundaries
- laugh at ridiculous fears/feelings
- jettison the issue FREQUENTLY
- Don't ask why or what if
- you'll get stuck
- why doesn't matter, how you react to situation does
- Recognize betrayal fantasies
- realize present truth (laugh, see above)
- Recognize and practice disengagement from being approved, adored, or understood
- in conversation - angry, upset - recognize
- people often misunderstand, not fully accept
- What is my perceived need?
- they don't have to understand
- Reprogram negative beliefs about women
- tolerate discomfort - no deeper cause or meaning
- not mom, sister, cousins, etc.
- many women are trustworthy
Monday, February 18, 2008
Storytelling
Our story begins just like any other story. Our story begins today, the day all stories are created, when the history of our thoughts are loosely reconstructed into a chronological development that climaxes into our great experience. And we, the collective consisting of the reader and myself, all partake in its development. I write the information vaguely connected to actual experience, and the reader reads skimmingly across the vast plains of such information in search of, well, a good story. Since I know this, I try to incorporate many treasure tales into the lines of text that can be discovered by the reader, thus proving his worth as a reader and mine as a writer. All of this is merely to explain how it is “our” story and not just a made up fiction, which is it, but who cares.
Hence, no story is ever told again. Each time it is reconstructed with a secret encoder (the storyteller) and a unique decoder (the listener or reader, well, at least the reader, since most listeners become their own storytellers and audience after a short time). Which brings me to my first point: there are few audiences for storytellers in the world of voice. The best stories are spoken in places one can read a book, ponder some silent thought, or anywhere else with a pint and friends. Few listen. Few understand. Few acknowledge their understanding by saying something other than “I understand.” Unless following an order, nobody should ever say “I understand” to any speaker. “I understand” should be a demonstration of understanding, not a statement of it. Only the speaker can declare if the listener understands. For example, the listener can simply repeat back to the speaker what they have heard. Is this not the easiest demonstration of understanding? If someone is explaining some problem they are having to me and follow their explanation with the question “Do you understand?” I simply repeat back to them their explanation of their problem. “I'm upset because you suggested I was an idiot, understand?” “So, you're upset that I suggested you were an idiot?” “Yes.” And then they continue. Once I am declared as understanding, the speaker feels automatically able to continue their story because the value of the story has been reflected by the listener.
It is amazing how unimportant people feel if they are not listened to appropriately. Just like learning a new language, a new speaker must be learned, decoded, placed in context, and received with translated acknowledgment. There is little difference between a listener who only acknowledges understanding by their declaration of it and a foreigner who receives instructions with a silent smile and a nod. I cannot recall the amount of times I have spoken to individuals who couldn't even realize the language I was speaking, much less the words, and far less the meaning. How did we become so self-absorbed that we have run out of stories to tell about each other? When did we stop learning to communicate to other humans? Perhaps school has taught us a standard of communication that must be adopted in order to be useful. Perhaps some people who went to school are just jackasses. Perhaps jackasses need a lesson.
What if we shocked the world by displacing everyone into another culture? How would you act if you didn't recognize a face, a landmark, an article of clothing, or even a syllable? At what point does the level of desperation to connect with other humans break the self-absorbed jackasses in all of us? Must we reach to the degree of shell-shocked displacement to disrupt our aging self-reflection and reproductive autobiographies?
So try, just try, to tell a story about someone else. Tell one you've heard. Tell one you've heard told. Tell a story you heard was told to a guy who once listened to a comedian talk about an email forward he received from a friend about a group of people in another country learning the tales of a remote culture. It's entertaining, fun, easy to listen to, and best of all, it's not just about you. Who knows, if you're not talking about yourself, people might find you easier to listen to.
Hence, no story is ever told again. Each time it is reconstructed with a secret encoder (the storyteller) and a unique decoder (the listener or reader, well, at least the reader, since most listeners become their own storytellers and audience after a short time). Which brings me to my first point: there are few audiences for storytellers in the world of voice. The best stories are spoken in places one can read a book, ponder some silent thought, or anywhere else with a pint and friends. Few listen. Few understand. Few acknowledge their understanding by saying something other than “I understand.” Unless following an order, nobody should ever say “I understand” to any speaker. “I understand” should be a demonstration of understanding, not a statement of it. Only the speaker can declare if the listener understands. For example, the listener can simply repeat back to the speaker what they have heard. Is this not the easiest demonstration of understanding? If someone is explaining some problem they are having to me and follow their explanation with the question “Do you understand?” I simply repeat back to them their explanation of their problem. “I'm upset because you suggested I was an idiot, understand?” “So, you're upset that I suggested you were an idiot?” “Yes.” And then they continue. Once I am declared as understanding, the speaker feels automatically able to continue their story because the value of the story has been reflected by the listener.
It is amazing how unimportant people feel if they are not listened to appropriately. Just like learning a new language, a new speaker must be learned, decoded, placed in context, and received with translated acknowledgment. There is little difference between a listener who only acknowledges understanding by their declaration of it and a foreigner who receives instructions with a silent smile and a nod. I cannot recall the amount of times I have spoken to individuals who couldn't even realize the language I was speaking, much less the words, and far less the meaning. How did we become so self-absorbed that we have run out of stories to tell about each other? When did we stop learning to communicate to other humans? Perhaps school has taught us a standard of communication that must be adopted in order to be useful. Perhaps some people who went to school are just jackasses. Perhaps jackasses need a lesson.
What if we shocked the world by displacing everyone into another culture? How would you act if you didn't recognize a face, a landmark, an article of clothing, or even a syllable? At what point does the level of desperation to connect with other humans break the self-absorbed jackasses in all of us? Must we reach to the degree of shell-shocked displacement to disrupt our aging self-reflection and reproductive autobiographies?
So try, just try, to tell a story about someone else. Tell one you've heard. Tell one you've heard told. Tell a story you heard was told to a guy who once listened to a comedian talk about an email forward he received from a friend about a group of people in another country learning the tales of a remote culture. It's entertaining, fun, easy to listen to, and best of all, it's not just about you. Who knows, if you're not talking about yourself, people might find you easier to listen to.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
My Safest Place
My safest place is my own creation. It is a mental retreat, a cognitive reality, where I can exist without trouble. It is immune from every attack; spiritual, emotional, or physical. Within such walls, I am loved, appreciated, respected, significant, and I belong. I am worthy of the highest affection. I am a child, but I am also a god.
My safest place is a bunker deep in the middle of the largest, hottest desert. It is huge, but barely visible as it sits level with the surrounding sands. Yes, it is air-conditioned, but my favorite features are on the outside. It is no mere ivory tower; it is a fortress created for my ego to rest.
Surrounding the bunker are my boundaries maintained by an unseen force with an ultimate desire to love and value me. At least 200 yards out swirls a wall of sand circling with hurricane force winds. This wall serves as a warning to all who pass that they must be nice to me. In fact, the wall will only harm you if part of you harbors any ill-will towards me. If you are seeking me out so that I can fulfill some need of yours, it will not let you pass, whether I want it to or not. If you are not coming their for me, me when I am at the most selfish, then you are not welcome.
Within the wall of sand is a large pillar of fire. The fire is my favorite feature due to the fact that is the most threatening and the most protective. It is a purifying fire. I mean no harm to anyone, but this will harm you dearly if you choose to approach it with any other motive besides love for me. If you want me, it will burn you. If you merely like me, it will burn you again. If you are willing to criticize me, it might even kill you. In fact, if you merely came to be silent and listen to me it will still burn you, because every person knows that listening involves much more than being silent. If you came to relate your life story to mine, you will not make it past the first step. Even if, unbeknownst to you, that you will lie, emotionally manipulate, argue, or fight for any of your own control or rights in the bunker, you will be reject here first. The fire is a brilliant ego check on all who enter. None can fool it. You are either their for me, in my world, or you will be harshly rejected.
Lining the inside of the pillar of fire is a soft pillow of clouds. Thicker than a snow storm of dandelion pedals, it quiets every noise for me and comfortably dims the heat and light. And within that comfort, lies my bunker.
It is a magical place, filled with objects and space and time that arranges itself according to my wishes. I can do no wrong within it. I cannot hurt a soul, nor can they hurt me. No angry words are spoken there. There is no drama, no gossip, no liars, no manipulators, no challenges. Here I am valued, protect by the forces outside me. Here I am loved, comforted by my surroundings and the environment created for me. Here I am respected, without argument or conflicting personalities. Here I am appreciated, where my creations hang on the walls, sit on the floor, as beautiful and perfect as they are in my mind. Here I can exhale, close my eyes, rest and relax with selfish freedom. Here I am safe.
My safest place is a bunker deep in the middle of the largest, hottest desert. It is huge, but barely visible as it sits level with the surrounding sands. Yes, it is air-conditioned, but my favorite features are on the outside. It is no mere ivory tower; it is a fortress created for my ego to rest.
Surrounding the bunker are my boundaries maintained by an unseen force with an ultimate desire to love and value me. At least 200 yards out swirls a wall of sand circling with hurricane force winds. This wall serves as a warning to all who pass that they must be nice to me. In fact, the wall will only harm you if part of you harbors any ill-will towards me. If you are seeking me out so that I can fulfill some need of yours, it will not let you pass, whether I want it to or not. If you are not coming their for me, me when I am at the most selfish, then you are not welcome.
Within the wall of sand is a large pillar of fire. The fire is my favorite feature due to the fact that is the most threatening and the most protective. It is a purifying fire. I mean no harm to anyone, but this will harm you dearly if you choose to approach it with any other motive besides love for me. If you want me, it will burn you. If you merely like me, it will burn you again. If you are willing to criticize me, it might even kill you. In fact, if you merely came to be silent and listen to me it will still burn you, because every person knows that listening involves much more than being silent. If you came to relate your life story to mine, you will not make it past the first step. Even if, unbeknownst to you, that you will lie, emotionally manipulate, argue, or fight for any of your own control or rights in the bunker, you will be reject here first. The fire is a brilliant ego check on all who enter. None can fool it. You are either their for me, in my world, or you will be harshly rejected.
Lining the inside of the pillar of fire is a soft pillow of clouds. Thicker than a snow storm of dandelion pedals, it quiets every noise for me and comfortably dims the heat and light. And within that comfort, lies my bunker.
It is a magical place, filled with objects and space and time that arranges itself according to my wishes. I can do no wrong within it. I cannot hurt a soul, nor can they hurt me. No angry words are spoken there. There is no drama, no gossip, no liars, no manipulators, no challenges. Here I am valued, protect by the forces outside me. Here I am loved, comforted by my surroundings and the environment created for me. Here I am respected, without argument or conflicting personalities. Here I am appreciated, where my creations hang on the walls, sit on the floor, as beautiful and perfect as they are in my mind. Here I can exhale, close my eyes, rest and relax with selfish freedom. Here I am safe.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
A Rant About Marriage
Since when did marriage become the jaded reason for every married persons' existence? At what point did marriage excuse people from dealing with their own individual problems? Did the vows, kids, careers, or money change the definition of responsibility? Since when did the practice of using the words 'I love you' to cover up unloving actions become so popular? At what point did the fact that people change become incompatible with marriage vows? Or monogamy? Or spirituality?
Many married people I know are going through issues. No problem, right? We all go through issues. But here is my personal issue: no married person I know thinks an unmarried person can understand or provide insight into their 'marriage' problems. Sorry, but I take that personally. At what point did a marriage cease to be a intimate relationship? I've had my fair share of such relationships, making ridiculous and reprehensible mistakes in each one, such that I learned more about myself and relationships through each one. Just because I did not make any vows, nor did I live with my x-girlfriends, does not make my opinion shallow.
Are you actually suggesting that I cannot see when you're being selfish? Or that your wife is just an egotistical bitch who cares more about her career and self-image than you? Or that your self-worth is wrapped up in him? Do you not see for yourself that he has let you down and that's okay? Do you know what you were expecting from marriage? I've heard that expectations are premeditated regrets, so do you think that's true? I've been in codependent relationships, so can I not recognize codependency? I've been controlled and controlling, so can I not advise on self-control and boundaries?
Let's make one more thing perfectly clear: there is no such thing as a Christian marriage. Marriage is not God-ordained, it is a social institution. It is an agreement between two individuals that actually requires both parties to live out their lives together. A Christian marriage is an invention by the Christian church that requires people to live out their lives and their marriage according to Christian principles. In other words, a donut with frosting is still a donut.
Believe it or not, there really isn't anything spiritual about marriage. Otherwise, every atheist on the planet wouldn't be able to get or stay married. Since when did we over-spiritualize and over-romanticize marriage to be somehow 'above' a personal and practical social relationship? There are forty year old married couples that still fight! Fighting is a part of marriage. Conflict, change, bills, and doing the fucking dishes are a part of marriage. What is so spiritual or romantic about that?
So then, why do we look for spiritual or romantic solutions to marital problems? God is not putting you through trials right now, you're being insecure that your wife isn't interested in you anymore, and you're probably right. God has nothing to do with it. Your three month long engagement and five year marriage did not turn out to be 'what was meant to be'. So no, you're not leaving the One person you were meant to be with. You cannot fix your marriage just because you're supposed to stay married. Very simply, it might have started with a simple mistake that has grown to have enormous personal consequences. Believe me, you're not an abnormality here. I'm single, I know.
Can we please start to be more practical and less romantic/spiritual about marriage? It is quite necessary to do so. Generally, a visit to your local secular therapist will do more for you and your marriage than a Christian counselor or pastor. I would like to see marital problems be worked out in healthy ways such as learning communication, tolerance, personal growth, and even divorce rather than cheating, lying that violates trust, having open marriages, manipulation, and ugly battles for control.
Many married people I know are going through issues. No problem, right? We all go through issues. But here is my personal issue: no married person I know thinks an unmarried person can understand or provide insight into their 'marriage' problems. Sorry, but I take that personally. At what point did a marriage cease to be a intimate relationship? I've had my fair share of such relationships, making ridiculous and reprehensible mistakes in each one, such that I learned more about myself and relationships through each one. Just because I did not make any vows, nor did I live with my x-girlfriends, does not make my opinion shallow.
Are you actually suggesting that I cannot see when you're being selfish? Or that your wife is just an egotistical bitch who cares more about her career and self-image than you? Or that your self-worth is wrapped up in him? Do you not see for yourself that he has let you down and that's okay? Do you know what you were expecting from marriage? I've heard that expectations are premeditated regrets, so do you think that's true? I've been in codependent relationships, so can I not recognize codependency? I've been controlled and controlling, so can I not advise on self-control and boundaries?
Let's make one more thing perfectly clear: there is no such thing as a Christian marriage. Marriage is not God-ordained, it is a social institution. It is an agreement between two individuals that actually requires both parties to live out their lives together. A Christian marriage is an invention by the Christian church that requires people to live out their lives and their marriage according to Christian principles. In other words, a donut with frosting is still a donut.
Believe it or not, there really isn't anything spiritual about marriage. Otherwise, every atheist on the planet wouldn't be able to get or stay married. Since when did we over-spiritualize and over-romanticize marriage to be somehow 'above' a personal and practical social relationship? There are forty year old married couples that still fight! Fighting is a part of marriage. Conflict, change, bills, and doing the fucking dishes are a part of marriage. What is so spiritual or romantic about that?
So then, why do we look for spiritual or romantic solutions to marital problems? God is not putting you through trials right now, you're being insecure that your wife isn't interested in you anymore, and you're probably right. God has nothing to do with it. Your three month long engagement and five year marriage did not turn out to be 'what was meant to be'. So no, you're not leaving the One person you were meant to be with. You cannot fix your marriage just because you're supposed to stay married. Very simply, it might have started with a simple mistake that has grown to have enormous personal consequences. Believe me, you're not an abnormality here. I'm single, I know.
Can we please start to be more practical and less romantic/spiritual about marriage? It is quite necessary to do so. Generally, a visit to your local secular therapist will do more for you and your marriage than a Christian counselor or pastor. I would like to see marital problems be worked out in healthy ways such as learning communication, tolerance, personal growth, and even divorce rather than cheating, lying that violates trust, having open marriages, manipulation, and ugly battles for control.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Desiring Truth and Goodness Beyond Doctrine
The following quote is from C.S. Lewis' fictional book The Last Battle. Aslan, the lion, represents God in the book. While Tash (along with others) represents Satan or the Evil One. Emeth, a leopard and follower of Tash, suddenly finds himself in an open field:
I really admire Emeth in this book. I've been thinking about his situation recently. Emeth served a false god. Aslan does not reject him, but accepts his service to Tash as if it was his own. There is a portion of humanity that is often forsaken by Christianity (and other religions as well), that is, the willingness to seek truth and goodness present in all people. No man would willingly trade the knowledge of something true for something that is false. Likewise, no man would willingly, with full conscious knowledge, do something evil for its own sake. Every man can commit to pursuing these things while at the same time belonging to any religion, church, culture, ethnicity, race, country, or people group.
If their commitment to such righteous goals is true, that is, willed by all of themselves, then I know of no other more valuable or noble act, either internal or external, that could be done. I do not believe God would disavow such commitment and service. How could he? Did he not create such a creature who could desire truth and goodness with all of themselves? How then, throughout his life and even at the end, would such desires be tossed aside because of his limited knowledge of all things? What else can we do but strongly desire the knowledge of truth and that which is good, and to be willing to commit to such things? Such is an inherent capability in all of humanity that cannot be ignored, but must be acknowledged and rewarded, even if it is does done with a limited knowledge of Good and Evil. We are limited creatures, whose capability to do good is so great, that such a commitment to do good and seek truth in all of ourselves is to be admired, even by God.
"So I went over much grass and many flowers and among all kinds of wholesome and delectable trees till lo! in a narrow place between two rocks there came to meet me a great Lion. The speed of him was like the ostrich, and his size was an elephant's; his hair was like pure gold and the brightness of his eyes like gold that is liquid in the furnace. He was more terrible than the Flaming Mountain of Lagour, and in beauty he surpassed all that is in the world even as the rose in bloom surpasses the dust of the desert. Then I fell at his feet and thought, Surely this is the hour of death, for the Lion (who is worthy of all honour) will know that I have served Tash all my days and not him. Nevertheless, it is better to see the Lion and die than to be Tisroc of the world and live and not to have seen him. But the Glorious One bent down his golden head and touched my forehead with his tongue and said, Son, thou art welcome. But I said, Alas, Lord, I am no son of thine but the servant of Tash. He answered, Child, all the service thou hast done to Tash, I account as service done to me. Then by reasons of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, Lord, is it then true, as the Ape said, that thou and Tash are one? The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, It is false. Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites, I take to me the services which thou hast done to him. For I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him. Therefore if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath's sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted. Dost thou understand, Child? I said, Lord, thou knowest how much I understand. But I said also (for the truth constrained me), Yet I have been seeking Tash all my days. Beloved, said the Glorious One, unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek.
"Then he breathed upon me and took away the trembling from my limbs and caused me to stand upon my feet. And after that, he said not much, but that we should meet again, and I must go further up and further in. Then he turned him about in a storm and flurry of gold and was gone suddenly."
I really admire Emeth in this book. I've been thinking about his situation recently. Emeth served a false god. Aslan does not reject him, but accepts his service to Tash as if it was his own. There is a portion of humanity that is often forsaken by Christianity (and other religions as well), that is, the willingness to seek truth and goodness present in all people. No man would willingly trade the knowledge of something true for something that is false. Likewise, no man would willingly, with full conscious knowledge, do something evil for its own sake. Every man can commit to pursuing these things while at the same time belonging to any religion, church, culture, ethnicity, race, country, or people group.
If their commitment to such righteous goals is true, that is, willed by all of themselves, then I know of no other more valuable or noble act, either internal or external, that could be done. I do not believe God would disavow such commitment and service. How could he? Did he not create such a creature who could desire truth and goodness with all of themselves? How then, throughout his life and even at the end, would such desires be tossed aside because of his limited knowledge of all things? What else can we do but strongly desire the knowledge of truth and that which is good, and to be willing to commit to such things? Such is an inherent capability in all of humanity that cannot be ignored, but must be acknowledged and rewarded, even if it is does done with a limited knowledge of Good and Evil. We are limited creatures, whose capability to do good is so great, that such a commitment to do good and seek truth in all of ourselves is to be admired, even by God.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Given the shaft
Yes, I was dumped. Yes, it really fucking hurts. No, I don't regret it. Relationships can be silly and serious things. This is the more serious side, where one looks at the sum of everything and decides whether the risk was worth it or not.
The last fight we had, the one in which she broke up with me, she was more honest with me than ever before. The truth was never more clear to me, I don't really know why. The bottom line came to this: she did not want to be in a relationship with me because of some things I had felt/said and was continuing to say. In part, I was relieved. I knew she had a problem with things I had felt and said, but never had it been so clearly dealt with before. Finally, I heard in literal terms why she had such a problem with me. There were no grey areas, no conditionals, no flip-flops. The truth was out and I understood. And, as much as it pains me to say it, I enjoyed hearing it, even if it was difficult to do so. I consider what happened between us as a good relationship, even the hardest parts.
I hate speaking of these events in past tense. There were many good times. I really like that girl and I really care about her. How is she doing? Can it really be over? The air feels so thick. The end of a relationship is so much like the death of something. It feels so permanent, so lonely. C.S. Lewis spoke too soon when he said that grief felt so much like fear. I have felt fear, both deep and broad, and this is nothing like it. I am quite familiar with insecurity or anxiousness concerning some potential danger. Grief is nothing like a "flight or fight" response. There is nothing to fight, and nowhere to run.
In a sense, it is a relief for me. There is nothing to fight, and nowhere to run. My broken heart can travel with me, sit with me, read with me, or play with me. I can schedule my meetings with it, like on my bed at night or with my guitar in the afternoon. At other times, I can ignore it. Actually, being in a state of grief feels quite comfortable. Hopefully I will not get too comfortable. But I find myself not wanting to feel any other way except sad.
Toward the end of our last conversation, she knew I didn't agree that we should be broken up. She wanted to know why I disagreed. I could hardly say. What do you tell someone who has expressed such a strong dislike of your behavior and feelings? I could only really tell her that I understood why she no longer wanted a relationship, and I simply repeated back to her what she told me about it, hardly any of which I believed to be true about myself. I felt like I was lying. It is difficult to tell someone they are wrong about you when they feel so strongly about how your actions affected them, especially in a relationship. Past hurts always take priority over present knowledge. And the only good thing I could manage to do was to understand and empathize.
But then again, I want to be understood also. I don't want to be controlling, feared, or fought with. I don't want to be with someone whom I continuously hurt without knowing it. If I'm being a jerk, then I'm wrong. But if I'm talking about feeling insecure or anxious, I just want to be listened to. I enjoy people who listen to me with validation. I don't want to be changed or others to change for me. I want to be treated as acceptable, just as I am, as I want to treat others. But this is difficult to negotiate in relationships. There is a fine line between telling someone the truth of how you feel in the context of each other and starting a fight with accusations and criticism. We just couldn't manage to communicate well.
Anyway, I was happy before her. This simple grief feels honest and clean, wholesome even, a slow return to a more familiar life. Time to give the rejected ego a rest, to let things take their natural course. I always enjoyed the "otherness" between us, now I will just learn to appreciate it further. The risk was worth it for all of the good times and the bad, even this.
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick." Whoever wrote that, was brilliant.
The last fight we had, the one in which she broke up with me, she was more honest with me than ever before. The truth was never more clear to me, I don't really know why. The bottom line came to this: she did not want to be in a relationship with me because of some things I had felt/said and was continuing to say. In part, I was relieved. I knew she had a problem with things I had felt and said, but never had it been so clearly dealt with before. Finally, I heard in literal terms why she had such a problem with me. There were no grey areas, no conditionals, no flip-flops. The truth was out and I understood. And, as much as it pains me to say it, I enjoyed hearing it, even if it was difficult to do so. I consider what happened between us as a good relationship, even the hardest parts.
I hate speaking of these events in past tense. There were many good times. I really like that girl and I really care about her. How is she doing? Can it really be over? The air feels so thick. The end of a relationship is so much like the death of something. It feels so permanent, so lonely. C.S. Lewis spoke too soon when he said that grief felt so much like fear. I have felt fear, both deep and broad, and this is nothing like it. I am quite familiar with insecurity or anxiousness concerning some potential danger. Grief is nothing like a "flight or fight" response. There is nothing to fight, and nowhere to run.
In a sense, it is a relief for me. There is nothing to fight, and nowhere to run. My broken heart can travel with me, sit with me, read with me, or play with me. I can schedule my meetings with it, like on my bed at night or with my guitar in the afternoon. At other times, I can ignore it. Actually, being in a state of grief feels quite comfortable. Hopefully I will not get too comfortable. But I find myself not wanting to feel any other way except sad.
Toward the end of our last conversation, she knew I didn't agree that we should be broken up. She wanted to know why I disagreed. I could hardly say. What do you tell someone who has expressed such a strong dislike of your behavior and feelings? I could only really tell her that I understood why she no longer wanted a relationship, and I simply repeated back to her what she told me about it, hardly any of which I believed to be true about myself. I felt like I was lying. It is difficult to tell someone they are wrong about you when they feel so strongly about how your actions affected them, especially in a relationship. Past hurts always take priority over present knowledge. And the only good thing I could manage to do was to understand and empathize.
But then again, I want to be understood also. I don't want to be controlling, feared, or fought with. I don't want to be with someone whom I continuously hurt without knowing it. If I'm being a jerk, then I'm wrong. But if I'm talking about feeling insecure or anxious, I just want to be listened to. I enjoy people who listen to me with validation. I don't want to be changed or others to change for me. I want to be treated as acceptable, just as I am, as I want to treat others. But this is difficult to negotiate in relationships. There is a fine line between telling someone the truth of how you feel in the context of each other and starting a fight with accusations and criticism. We just couldn't manage to communicate well.
Anyway, I was happy before her. This simple grief feels honest and clean, wholesome even, a slow return to a more familiar life. Time to give the rejected ego a rest, to let things take their natural course. I always enjoyed the "otherness" between us, now I will just learn to appreciate it further. The risk was worth it for all of the good times and the bad, even this.
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick." Whoever wrote that, was brilliant.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
This, my friends, is a panic attack
I can barely live in my own skin
My muscles underneath quiver with fear
Potential pending doom grows without restraint in my head
But I cannot find the dangers
They are myths I believe
They are myths I created
But I feel that they are true
Consequences to things yet unoccurred
A tragic story of life events yet unlived
Tense thoughts lock my back and shoulders in a prison of panic
My hands tremble with fear
My breathing quickens, and I feel like I'm going crazy
My body is prepared for a war with my mind
I debate myself over self-worth, value, and lovability
They say I'm too hard on myself
That I'm good for people, funny, and lovable
But what if they knew me better?
If they saw me now, shaking in the fear of nothing?
I talk to them and they ask me what happened,
What happened? They say,
And I just want to cry, I don't know
Nothing, everything, just happened.
I feel stuck under a black umbrella of my own thoughts
With sunglasses so dark they can block out the sun
I cry out of sadness, a deep grief for my life
I'm sorry I have hurt, been immature, and used you all
Be merciful and lock me up so I cannot hurt another
And so I do not hurt myself
I need deep truths
God, give me something I can grip firmly
Hold on to for dear life, dear trust, dear intimacy, love
Would you like my vocal chords so I can actually hear you?
I can give you my anxious skin so you can touch me, give me a hug perhaps?
A set of clothes that I can touch?
I feel ill, sick with sticky worries
And I am tired, giving too much credence to my mistakes
I have invited fear and hurt into my home
And it has stayed, now unwelcomed, but burrowed into me
I have tried to smoke it out with cigarettes
Drown it in alcohol
Loosen its grip with sex, careless decisions, and positive self-help books
I feel too much
I need deep truths, deep magical thoughts
Grounded in a constant source of comfort
But I feel so much
My muscles underneath quiver with fear
Potential pending doom grows without restraint in my head
But I cannot find the dangers
They are myths I believe
They are myths I created
But I feel that they are true
Consequences to things yet unoccurred
A tragic story of life events yet unlived
Tense thoughts lock my back and shoulders in a prison of panic
My hands tremble with fear
My breathing quickens, and I feel like I'm going crazy
My body is prepared for a war with my mind
I debate myself over self-worth, value, and lovability
They say I'm too hard on myself
That I'm good for people, funny, and lovable
But what if they knew me better?
If they saw me now, shaking in the fear of nothing?
I talk to them and they ask me what happened,
What happened? They say,
And I just want to cry, I don't know
Nothing, everything, just happened.
I feel stuck under a black umbrella of my own thoughts
With sunglasses so dark they can block out the sun
I cry out of sadness, a deep grief for my life
I'm sorry I have hurt, been immature, and used you all
Be merciful and lock me up so I cannot hurt another
And so I do not hurt myself
I need deep truths
God, give me something I can grip firmly
Hold on to for dear life, dear trust, dear intimacy, love
Would you like my vocal chords so I can actually hear you?
I can give you my anxious skin so you can touch me, give me a hug perhaps?
A set of clothes that I can touch?
I feel ill, sick with sticky worries
And I am tired, giving too much credence to my mistakes
I have invited fear and hurt into my home
And it has stayed, now unwelcomed, but burrowed into me
I have tried to smoke it out with cigarettes
Drown it in alcohol
Loosen its grip with sex, careless decisions, and positive self-help books
I feel too much
I need deep truths, deep magical thoughts
Grounded in a constant source of comfort
But I feel so much
Monday, August 27, 2007
Loving Another
"Love ceases to be a demon only when it ceases to be a god." - M. Denis de Rougemont
I wholeheartedly agree with the maxim that "it is not good for a man to be alone." We are, as people, meant to fulfill each other's inherent needs for companionship. The denial of this fact, like the manufacturing of illusionary feelings that we are "blessed" or "gifted" with being single or celibate, also denies the need we have to find someone to love. Frankly, the denial of this need makes us unstable and insecure. As Carl Jung said, "what you resist persists." As such, we should first simply acknowledge our need of this love in our lives.
No doubt most people believe truly corrupted love is sex without love or commitment. This makes perfect sense, but it must also be said that truly romantic love is not present in such activity. True love dominates sexual desire, refining and reorganizing our thoughts and behavior. By itself, sex desires something. If sex persists without love, then we tend to fall in love with the "loving", not the person herself, based on what we get out of it. Love, on the other hand, desires the object of love, the beloved herself, someone in particular.
Love makes a man not just want any woman, but one particular woman. Furthermore, he does not want the pleasure he gets from her, but her in authentic form. This is not a calculated decision, or a product of will power, it is a simple pre-occupation with her that develops. He did not choose her, nor did she him, based on comparing other women to her. In fact, his needs here are entirely a distraction from appreciating her as admirable in herself. Very simply, he is quite intoxicated by her, without giving any regard to his pain or pleasure. She is undeniably separate from him, like the beauty present in a colorful sunset, but he cannot (and would not dare) take it with him.
It is so important to keep the separateness or otherness of those loving relationships at the forefront of our minds. Because if we were to allow our pre-occupation with the beloved to take control, it would soon become an obsession, and then a burden for the lover and the beloved. In fact, I have found that such a process ends up with the worst sort of selfish behavior, where I would not care about the beloved at all, except that she were to make me feel complete and met my needs for intimacy. Such a thought turns her from what was once specifically beautiful and valuable into even less than a woman. She would become any woman, nothing special, and there to make me feel better. Granted, it is wonderful that she can do things that mean much to me, but we must resist loving those things more than her herself. We must maintain gratefulness rather than expectations.
That, in fact, is how I want to be loved and not loved as well. I want to be loved as a special, unique, and independently wealthy poor man who is, in and of himself, full of worth and potential. I want to be loved truly, as I myself am, with appreciation for what I do and freedom to grow up from my mistakes. But specifically, I want to be loved as another, from only one other, who is incredibly grateful for me.
I wholeheartedly agree with the maxim that "it is not good for a man to be alone." We are, as people, meant to fulfill each other's inherent needs for companionship. The denial of this fact, like the manufacturing of illusionary feelings that we are "blessed" or "gifted" with being single or celibate, also denies the need we have to find someone to love. Frankly, the denial of this need makes us unstable and insecure. As Carl Jung said, "what you resist persists." As such, we should first simply acknowledge our need of this love in our lives.
No doubt most people believe truly corrupted love is sex without love or commitment. This makes perfect sense, but it must also be said that truly romantic love is not present in such activity. True love dominates sexual desire, refining and reorganizing our thoughts and behavior. By itself, sex desires something. If sex persists without love, then we tend to fall in love with the "loving", not the person herself, based on what we get out of it. Love, on the other hand, desires the object of love, the beloved herself, someone in particular.
Love makes a man not just want any woman, but one particular woman. Furthermore, he does not want the pleasure he gets from her, but her in authentic form. This is not a calculated decision, or a product of will power, it is a simple pre-occupation with her that develops. He did not choose her, nor did she him, based on comparing other women to her. In fact, his needs here are entirely a distraction from appreciating her as admirable in herself. Very simply, he is quite intoxicated by her, without giving any regard to his pain or pleasure. She is undeniably separate from him, like the beauty present in a colorful sunset, but he cannot (and would not dare) take it with him.
It is so important to keep the separateness or otherness of those loving relationships at the forefront of our minds. Because if we were to allow our pre-occupation with the beloved to take control, it would soon become an obsession, and then a burden for the lover and the beloved. In fact, I have found that such a process ends up with the worst sort of selfish behavior, where I would not care about the beloved at all, except that she were to make me feel complete and met my needs for intimacy. Such a thought turns her from what was once specifically beautiful and valuable into even less than a woman. She would become any woman, nothing special, and there to make me feel better. Granted, it is wonderful that she can do things that mean much to me, but we must resist loving those things more than her herself. We must maintain gratefulness rather than expectations.
That, in fact, is how I want to be loved and not loved as well. I want to be loved as a special, unique, and independently wealthy poor man who is, in and of himself, full of worth and potential. I want to be loved truly, as I myself am, with appreciation for what I do and freedom to grow up from my mistakes. But specifically, I want to be loved as another, from only one other, who is incredibly grateful for me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)