Bowie said it first.
But it's true. For me, those changes have been little short of monumental since Sept 27th.
I was literally in the car driving back from summer camp when I got the call that something was significantly changed with my father. My sister said she was arriving the next morning. I stopped in and saw him on my way home. There'd been so many situations like this that I really did not expect to find much amiss. He was clearly not in a good way.
He died 10 days later.
I've reflected a lot on the experience since then. Going through death is a unique experience. There's nothing else I've ever experienced that afforded such clarity of mind.
But while that side of it was deep and has left lasting marks, the other part of it was a surprise and, in the end, is my real inheritance from him.
All my fear went away. Okay, maybe not all of it - I suppose there are still moments of anxiety about some things. But the reality of who I am, the real me, that one that had to get of this prison cell - that's the fear that's gone.
There's a new set of fears - reluctances might be a better word if it were one. But now the real me is here. I'm not afraid of that person. I am concerned? nervous? anxious? about who that person might become, might want to become. Do I do that? It feels so far past that in my life - how can I possibly make a change so fundamental to me as the person I've lived inside of for all these decades?
I've talked with several vital players in my life about this. I suspect one of them wonders why I don't take the plunge, change, metamorphose into that other. I'm not entirely sure. Part of me seeks to do just that, but the other aspects of me that I cherish - the drive, the dick, the body I have now - is reluctant to harbor that degree of change, of loss. I've considered cosmetic alternatives - that's a possibility,but I'd need to really consider the consequences. Could I live out that way? Do I want to live out that way?
The journey I'm on now is destined to take me to a forboding place. I know I must do that first.
Then. We shall see.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
"Turn and face the strange".
Since my father's death last month, something has changed, deeply, inside me. It's not about that relationship - that was always hard, and of late, very distant.
It's more to do with the growing self-realization, the part of me that now, finally, is starting to know who I am, no longer the definition of someone else.
And with that has come an odd shift in my sex and sexuality and my desire.
Whereas before it often felt (at least it was very vague and undefined) that when, for example, I wore thigh high nylons and walked about with them, it was as though part of me was trying to broadcast a message - "get laid". Was I? I don't know. (And I mean "get laid" in the broadest, most 'meta-' way possible, not just a BDT literal meaning). So when I was noticed, it was a lot about trying to see if what I imagined their conception of the meaning behind it could be something I understood in a way that opened the door to further connecting. That was me, compromising my self, in order to get the connection, whether sexual or something else.
But now, wearing thigh high nylons is more a marker of who I know I am, deep inside. And now it is not a matter of when someone sees me they say "Hotcha hotcha" and "Let's screw" but rather, I wonder, do they see the real me, and do they really know what this means as part of who I am? Do they truly understand that part of who I am, and do they grasp that the symbols are no longer a request for something like sex, but rather now are intrinsic representations or manifestations of the true self?
It is as though the symbolic language I've incorporated into the "me" of the past 15 years has suddenly jelled, morphed, into something at once deeply intimate and strangely unfamiliar. Who IS this odd person? [I KNOW this odd person well]
And with that comes the recognition, I think, that the inner person, though highly desiring of good sex contact and such, is no longer driven to that particular edge based on how I appear, no longer reaching for that fulfillment because of someone's "definition" of "me", but instead stems from a more fundamental place, and an interest in connecting that is totally free and clear of those older, familiar identities.
The person I am, really, now, finds solace, and, I hope, true self-confidence because I AM able to simply express that inner me as I feel it, and not because I am trying so so hard to "fit" into the mold of what others have tried to make me, whether real or imagined on my part.
There is one more sub-barrier, but even that, somehow, feels a lot different. I suspect I will manage to overcome that one with considerably more ease, esp since that relationship as it was is over.
It's both scary and exhilarating.
Since my father's death last month, something has changed, deeply, inside me. It's not about that relationship - that was always hard, and of late, very distant.
It's more to do with the growing self-realization, the part of me that now, finally, is starting to know who I am, no longer the definition of someone else.
And with that has come an odd shift in my sex and sexuality and my desire.
Whereas before it often felt (at least it was very vague and undefined) that when, for example, I wore thigh high nylons and walked about with them, it was as though part of me was trying to broadcast a message - "get laid". Was I? I don't know. (And I mean "get laid" in the broadest, most 'meta-' way possible, not just a BDT literal meaning). So when I was noticed, it was a lot about trying to see if what I imagined their conception of the meaning behind it could be something I understood in a way that opened the door to further connecting. That was me, compromising my self, in order to get the connection, whether sexual or something else.
But now, wearing thigh high nylons is more a marker of who I know I am, deep inside. And now it is not a matter of when someone sees me they say "Hotcha hotcha" and "Let's screw" but rather, I wonder, do they see the real me, and do they really know what this means as part of who I am? Do they truly understand that part of who I am, and do they grasp that the symbols are no longer a request for something like sex, but rather now are intrinsic representations or manifestations of the true self?
It is as though the symbolic language I've incorporated into the "me" of the past 15 years has suddenly jelled, morphed, into something at once deeply intimate and strangely unfamiliar. Who IS this odd person? [I KNOW this odd person well]
And with that comes the recognition, I think, that the inner person, though highly desiring of good sex contact and such, is no longer driven to that particular edge based on how I appear, no longer reaching for that fulfillment because of someone's "definition" of "me", but instead stems from a more fundamental place, and an interest in connecting that is totally free and clear of those older, familiar identities.
The person I am, really, now, finds solace, and, I hope, true self-confidence because I AM able to simply express that inner me as I feel it, and not because I am trying so so hard to "fit" into the mold of what others have tried to make me, whether real or imagined on my part.
There is one more sub-barrier, but even that, somehow, feels a lot different. I suspect I will manage to overcome that one with considerably more ease, esp since that relationship as it was is over.
It's both scary and exhilarating.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Head Noise
The head noise is bad this morning. I got persuaded a long time ago that this never does stop. Meditation and other things do help, but in the end the noise is always there. It is more about what you DO about this that counts.
So at 5 a.m. I am wide awake. *I hate typing* And I start ruminating on the usual stuff.
Not all is bad and ugly,
For example, it came to me that the way to plow through the dissertation is to start with the main question, to elaborate that quite a bit, not necessarily by asking more questions, but posing it in different ways. Then, for each following chapter, restate in some form the main question. This is very effective when I consider the "Why SXM?" chapter. I could start that by asking "If I am interested in technology and how it affects / interacts with the informal economy and tourism then this place is good b/c ..." See how that works? History could start with something too - perhaps "In considering the present and how ITC and I.E. and Tourism intersect, it is useful to look at the past."
But most of it is bad and ugly.
But then the same head noise quickly degenerates into my issues around K and why the relationship isn't working too well, even though part of me knows it is working. The part I am more in tune with now has to do with this sense of having to compete for time and energy and affection. I do not like competition at all, never have, probably never will. But I feel like capturing her attention is a matter of competing for her time. Then of course this whole part spirals down into all the things I hate about myself, which I think I am at least a little better at managing now. That whole cognitive shift bit still is there, for sure, but when I am overtired, and far from home and not at my body best, it is a lot harder to try and avoid the painful parts and to stay aware of how that works.
Part of me knows with certainty that the underlying drive at 5 a.m. is due to the body factors - lack of sound sleep, uneven nutrition, too much wine, off cycle, etc.. But that's not easy to let go of when I am simply lying there wondering it all. It gets away from the rational mind really fast.
I've learned in the past that usually (but not always) simply getting up shifts it around in odd ways, and I'm left with this sense of "WTF?". But underneath that is often a funny sort of body thing - something is off kilter there and I have no easy handle on what it is and therefore even less of a chance to try and fix it.
How can one fix the head noise?
Meditation helps, but does not eliminate. I should do more, but the goals now for me are so different.
Sex is an odd escape. I often find that playing with myself, getting really hard, building the energy that way is a useful escape, but wonder: is it simply an escape? Is it a simplification of things in a way that, like so many other approaches, merely tucks it under the rug kind of thing, leaving the harshness of what it is or might be festering in the back rooms of the head?
Writing is useful at times, but I'm never really sure I can separate myself from the mechanics of it all - I'm left slightly empty by the fact that the damn interface is so limiting. Is it what I really think or feel or is it driven by the curse of whatever I happen to choose as an interface? I think at times real pen and paper wrk better this way, but not always. I lose something "in the translation" which is to say that I never quite feel I capture what is IN my head as Itry and get it out onto a page of any sort.
So at 5 a.m. I am wide awake. *I hate typing* And I start ruminating on the usual stuff.
Not all is bad and ugly,
For example, it came to me that the way to plow through the dissertation is to start with the main question, to elaborate that quite a bit, not necessarily by asking more questions, but posing it in different ways. Then, for each following chapter, restate in some form the main question. This is very effective when I consider the "Why SXM?" chapter. I could start that by asking "If I am interested in technology and how it affects / interacts with the informal economy and tourism then this place is good b/c ..." See how that works? History could start with something too - perhaps "In considering the present and how ITC and I.E. and Tourism intersect, it is useful to look at the past."
But most of it is bad and ugly.
But then the same head noise quickly degenerates into my issues around K and why the relationship isn't working too well, even though part of me knows it is working. The part I am more in tune with now has to do with this sense of having to compete for time and energy and affection. I do not like competition at all, never have, probably never will. But I feel like capturing her attention is a matter of competing for her time. Then of course this whole part spirals down into all the things I hate about myself, which I think I am at least a little better at managing now. That whole cognitive shift bit still is there, for sure, but when I am overtired, and far from home and not at my body best, it is a lot harder to try and avoid the painful parts and to stay aware of how that works.
Part of me knows with certainty that the underlying drive at 5 a.m. is due to the body factors - lack of sound sleep, uneven nutrition, too much wine, off cycle, etc.. But that's not easy to let go of when I am simply lying there wondering it all. It gets away from the rational mind really fast.
I've learned in the past that usually (but not always) simply getting up shifts it around in odd ways, and I'm left with this sense of "WTF?". But underneath that is often a funny sort of body thing - something is off kilter there and I have no easy handle on what it is and therefore even less of a chance to try and fix it.
How can one fix the head noise?
Meditation helps, but does not eliminate. I should do more, but the goals now for me are so different.
Sex is an odd escape. I often find that playing with myself, getting really hard, building the energy that way is a useful escape, but wonder: is it simply an escape? Is it a simplification of things in a way that, like so many other approaches, merely tucks it under the rug kind of thing, leaving the harshness of what it is or might be festering in the back rooms of the head?
Writing is useful at times, but I'm never really sure I can separate myself from the mechanics of it all - I'm left slightly empty by the fact that the damn interface is so limiting. Is it what I really think or feel or is it driven by the curse of whatever I happen to choose as an interface? I think at times real pen and paper wrk better this way, but not always. I lose something "in the translation" which is to say that I never quite feel I capture what is IN my head as Itry and get it out onto a page of any sort.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Challenge time
If indeed this cognitive shift is real, settled, part of me to the extent that I can ward of demons more aptly, then I wonder: is it time to challenge me ins some way? Should I venture out and find venues that I know from past experience are likely to be hard? Some possibilities:
- Visit my dad. Invariably this pushes huge ugly buttons that leave me breathless with pain at times.
- Stay up too late. I'm a lot better about this one, but I also know that past 1 or so, I move rapidly toward panic. If I chose a weekend with a safe tail, it would be a good experiment.
- Attend large social gatherings and make myself ask for something. This is impending, so it'll happen regardless.
There's also an intersting "companion" to all this: discovering and AFFIRMING what I like and don't like. I can envision this as being across fields of myself, places where, until now, I've often been reluctant to open up to myself. What do I like? What do I dislike? Those two questions alone can span so much of me, so much of the hidden me, that it makes me tired jus' thinkin' about it! But it is, I think, a very real possibility.
Part of this stems from my reading of Orloff, suggested by a dear friend (thank you!). It's not just about opening up my intuition, but as much about sensing, becoming sensitive to, my own limits and desires. She talks (or is going to talk) about overload and has talked about pace. When I did that particular exercise the other day, I was a bit startled by the rapidity of the result. It was clear and unambiguous. In sensing my own pace, I am in a very real sense connecting with my own needs and desires. If my pace is such that I am capitulating a lot, my own needs and desires are being shunted. I would do well to unlearn that, to learn how to manage my pace in a manner that suits me.
And not forget to not be mean in the process.
- Visit my dad. Invariably this pushes huge ugly buttons that leave me breathless with pain at times.
- Stay up too late. I'm a lot better about this one, but I also know that past 1 or so, I move rapidly toward panic. If I chose a weekend with a safe tail, it would be a good experiment.
- Attend large social gatherings and make myself ask for something. This is impending, so it'll happen regardless.
There's also an intersting "companion" to all this: discovering and AFFIRMING what I like and don't like. I can envision this as being across fields of myself, places where, until now, I've often been reluctant to open up to myself. What do I like? What do I dislike? Those two questions alone can span so much of me, so much of the hidden me, that it makes me tired jus' thinkin' about it! But it is, I think, a very real possibility.
Part of this stems from my reading of Orloff, suggested by a dear friend (thank you!). It's not just about opening up my intuition, but as much about sensing, becoming sensitive to, my own limits and desires. She talks (or is going to talk) about overload and has talked about pace. When I did that particular exercise the other day, I was a bit startled by the rapidity of the result. It was clear and unambiguous. In sensing my own pace, I am in a very real sense connecting with my own needs and desires. If my pace is such that I am capitulating a lot, my own needs and desires are being shunted. I would do well to unlearn that, to learn how to manage my pace in a manner that suits me.
And not forget to not be mean in the process.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Difficult moments and fucked up dreams
It finally got a little nicer weatherwise here. It's odd to see after so many cold gray crappy days.
So I worked outside last night until 7. It was nice to do, to connect that way, to have my own space to do it the way it suited me. Not in any sort of cantankerous fuck you I never liked your way way, but more a finally I can just let go of that past and move ahead way. It was nice. Of course, I got sore. It's my own fault, I know. I haven't been doing the requisite back exercises, and I am under-exercised due both to medical and weather, but still...
A quiet evening alone was the ticket. An hour phone call with a soon-to-be playmate was nice, even thought I was frustrated about the likely need to cancel a planned visit to her. Vehicles can suck at times, Bad cash flow can suck even more!
I turned in late, and didn't even douse lights til almost midnight. I was surprised to then wake up, body hot, at 4:06, and toss and turn a lot. I finally decided after some false stops to shave and then have a little play, which of course cycled on and off - that wonderful tantric-like energy flow - I love that in the morning. THEN, of course, I fell back to sleep.
And those fall back to sleep dreams - they are WEIRD. This was no exception.
I'm at a banquet of some sort. The dining room is long, with a bit of a curve. I am sort of in line to get my food The plates are all individually separated by a cloth napkin and a tarnished silver platter like thingy. I take my plate (the napkins are just there to separate - napkins for eating are at the tables). The first food area is lasagna. There are several types, two primary variants. The main type is more or less conventional lasagna, but is really pretty. IT is cut perfectly clean and square, and looks almost like a plastic mime. The other type they call "British Lasagna" and I have no clue as to what it is. There is a lot less of it, and the pieces are quite small. It is dense looking, dark red, pungent. I take a piece and it sits on my big plate next to the regular beauty pageant lasagna. I move ahead. By the time I get to the next separate table of food - just vegetables and not too many of them - it looks like my beauty lasagna has somehow slipped right off the plate. There's not a trace of it. The British Lasagna is still there, clinging, stuck, to the plate. But no regular. Odd. So I move on, taking some green beans. I can't quite picture what was next, maybe nothing, but I do recall then turing round the last table to the other side and heading back. On my way, I see some poor service worker trying diligently to clean up a HUGE mess on the floor. I say as I pass, with a smile, "That was probably caused by me" thinking it was my missing beauty lasagna. But as I pass her, I realize that no, she is cleaning up a spilled quart of ice cream that had been dropped or fallen and melted on this nice rug. How it got there, melted, in the first place, seems odd to say the least.
I get back to the place I thought I was supposed to sit, a large round table, well, not quite round, but I recall somehow before I got food - you know how you often go and sit down and claim your spot? And I was with someone, I have no idea who. But I recall at that point I got into a bit of tiff with someone who, after I had quite clearly claimed my spot somehow (who knows how? jacket on the back? Turned up glass? Personal effects on seat?) simply took it and stated to sit down. I recall saying quite audibly "That is my seat" and she either ignored me or did not hear, at which point I repeated, VERY loudly "THAT IS MY SEAT". She turned and looked somehow stunned or insulted or maybe both? And proceeded to sit down anyway. It was like I was not there. Hmmm.... So I took the seat next to her. But, at any rate, when I did get back with my food, I realized that that seat too had been taken by someone, and even the person I was with simply looked up and smiled at me and then motioned me over... to where? IT was odd, but I recall thinking, oh no prob, I will go and sit at another table. And then there was this odd internal mental processing going on about how I normally (?) would have decided to go FAR away and pout, sit alone, act hurt, etc., but that this time, somehow, I simply wandered around and looked for a seat. The dream seems to have stopped before I actually sat down, but the last point is the one I am interested in.
Namely: I think I have some sort of fundamental cognitive shift in place. More than once in the past, oh, week, I have recognized that I was in a situation where I *should* have felt one way, *should* have acted one way, but did not. I was even aware several times of almost trying to direct my mind to that dark shitty place of the past... and realized it was like the door was locked, and my mind could not get in. Instead of "poor me" or "s/he won't like me anyway" kind of thinking, I was more "oh well. S/he likes me, it just didn't work out" thinking. It is a very fundamental change for me, one I like, but is a bit disarming.
I think it may be a combination of things.
First: regular SAMe. I think this has helped. IT may finally be at the point where I have a stable level in my body and so it works a little more consistently. One of the odd things that I have recognized about the past week is that I have had all or a combination of "hot buttons" that I know from painful experience have frequently led me to the black hole - over tired, lack of food, etc. But having had these in place and NOT having fallen in...
Second: I have somehow gotten over the toxic parts of my relationship with a lover. I love her deeply, I know, but in the past 6 months it got ricockulous. I was having separation anxiety when we said goodbye, I was taking her "I can't see you tonight"s really hard. I was not liking her other lovers. I recognized it was getting toxic for me. Somehow, I let go. I still love her deeply, and I would still consider a move to where she would go in 6 months to a year (if she goes). BUt now? It is like it is OK to NOT be so glued to her, NOT be so stick that every thing she does or does not do is somehow a reflection of my own failings or limits, or of her somehow deciding that I am not good enough.
I don't know where or how this happened, this cognitive shift, but it seems to be here.
So I worked outside last night until 7. It was nice to do, to connect that way, to have my own space to do it the way it suited me. Not in any sort of cantankerous fuck you I never liked your way way, but more a finally I can just let go of that past and move ahead way. It was nice. Of course, I got sore. It's my own fault, I know. I haven't been doing the requisite back exercises, and I am under-exercised due both to medical and weather, but still...
A quiet evening alone was the ticket. An hour phone call with a soon-to-be playmate was nice, even thought I was frustrated about the likely need to cancel a planned visit to her. Vehicles can suck at times, Bad cash flow can suck even more!
I turned in late, and didn't even douse lights til almost midnight. I was surprised to then wake up, body hot, at 4:06, and toss and turn a lot. I finally decided after some false stops to shave and then have a little play, which of course cycled on and off - that wonderful tantric-like energy flow - I love that in the morning. THEN, of course, I fell back to sleep.
And those fall back to sleep dreams - they are WEIRD. This was no exception.
I'm at a banquet of some sort. The dining room is long, with a bit of a curve. I am sort of in line to get my food The plates are all individually separated by a cloth napkin and a tarnished silver platter like thingy. I take my plate (the napkins are just there to separate - napkins for eating are at the tables). The first food area is lasagna. There are several types, two primary variants. The main type is more or less conventional lasagna, but is really pretty. IT is cut perfectly clean and square, and looks almost like a plastic mime. The other type they call "British Lasagna" and I have no clue as to what it is. There is a lot less of it, and the pieces are quite small. It is dense looking, dark red, pungent. I take a piece and it sits on my big plate next to the regular beauty pageant lasagna. I move ahead. By the time I get to the next separate table of food - just vegetables and not too many of them - it looks like my beauty lasagna has somehow slipped right off the plate. There's not a trace of it. The British Lasagna is still there, clinging, stuck, to the plate. But no regular. Odd. So I move on, taking some green beans. I can't quite picture what was next, maybe nothing, but I do recall then turing round the last table to the other side and heading back. On my way, I see some poor service worker trying diligently to clean up a HUGE mess on the floor. I say as I pass, with a smile, "That was probably caused by me" thinking it was my missing beauty lasagna. But as I pass her, I realize that no, she is cleaning up a spilled quart of ice cream that had been dropped or fallen and melted on this nice rug. How it got there, melted, in the first place, seems odd to say the least.
I get back to the place I thought I was supposed to sit, a large round table, well, not quite round, but I recall somehow before I got food - you know how you often go and sit down and claim your spot? And I was with someone, I have no idea who. But I recall at that point I got into a bit of tiff with someone who, after I had quite clearly claimed my spot somehow (who knows how? jacket on the back? Turned up glass? Personal effects on seat?) simply took it and stated to sit down. I recall saying quite audibly "That is my seat" and she either ignored me or did not hear, at which point I repeated, VERY loudly "THAT IS MY SEAT". She turned and looked somehow stunned or insulted or maybe both? And proceeded to sit down anyway. It was like I was not there. Hmmm.... So I took the seat next to her. But, at any rate, when I did get back with my food, I realized that that seat too had been taken by someone, and even the person I was with simply looked up and smiled at me and then motioned me over... to where? IT was odd, but I recall thinking, oh no prob, I will go and sit at another table. And then there was this odd internal mental processing going on about how I normally (?) would have decided to go FAR away and pout, sit alone, act hurt, etc., but that this time, somehow, I simply wandered around and looked for a seat. The dream seems to have stopped before I actually sat down, but the last point is the one I am interested in.
Namely: I think I have some sort of fundamental cognitive shift in place. More than once in the past, oh, week, I have recognized that I was in a situation where I *should* have felt one way, *should* have acted one way, but did not. I was even aware several times of almost trying to direct my mind to that dark shitty place of the past... and realized it was like the door was locked, and my mind could not get in. Instead of "poor me" or "s/he won't like me anyway" kind of thinking, I was more "oh well. S/he likes me, it just didn't work out" thinking. It is a very fundamental change for me, one I like, but is a bit disarming.
I think it may be a combination of things.
First: regular SAMe. I think this has helped. IT may finally be at the point where I have a stable level in my body and so it works a little more consistently. One of the odd things that I have recognized about the past week is that I have had all or a combination of "hot buttons" that I know from painful experience have frequently led me to the black hole - over tired, lack of food, etc. But having had these in place and NOT having fallen in...
Second: I have somehow gotten over the toxic parts of my relationship with a lover. I love her deeply, I know, but in the past 6 months it got ricockulous. I was having separation anxiety when we said goodbye, I was taking her "I can't see you tonight"s really hard. I was not liking her other lovers. I recognized it was getting toxic for me. Somehow, I let go. I still love her deeply, and I would still consider a move to where she would go in 6 months to a year (if she goes). BUt now? It is like it is OK to NOT be so glued to her, NOT be so stick that every thing she does or does not do is somehow a reflection of my own failings or limits, or of her somehow deciding that I am not good enough.
I don't know where or how this happened, this cognitive shift, but it seems to be here.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Beltane Sacred Sexuality
This was Beltane number two for me. A decidedly mixed bag in many respects save one: the event was a lot of fun!
I hosted 3 workshops. The upside is.... I love giving this. The downside is that I miss almost ALL of the workshops I would like to attend, and here, that's quite a few!
Sexual meditations is really about a personal technique, and after 2 runs, and a small audience, I am gonna rethink this one. I love the method, I know the attendees love the result, but I'm not conveying something about this in the blurb. I either have to hard sell it or change tactics.
Body Image. This is ALWAYS a hard one. I had a good group this time, and all of us really put ourselves way out there with it. This time we had enough time each, and that made it a lot better. I also managed to remember to include a connect time at the END of the workshop - a simple circle and hold hands and an embrace one-on-one for each of us. I think that's important. The REALLY cool part about this is I was asked to present this workshop at a totally different venue later this year. This was a real honor, and I am hopeful I can pull it off (long distance to travel).
Body Painting. This was a first in this format. Last year I did a piece on the sacred mark - the idea there was to draw on the 50,000 year legacy of human beings to apply colors to the body. That went well, was quite different. This year, I decided I would have fun with it, plain and simple! So that we did: assembled about a dozen people and set up a nice range of crazy colors (silver and gold were huge hits!) and went at it. Lots of very cool designs, lots of interesting ideas, and then B and I paraded up vendors row with it! It was really fun. I plan to at least bring this to LR.
The Beltane rituals are really well done here. There is just the right blend of sacred, sensual and silly. They manage to be respectful while adding in a dash or two of irreverence to make it fun. It works well. I respect the process, and in fact wonder if it would make sense to go ahead and somehow require attendance at at least one of the rituals. Don't have any idea how that might work - maybe would have to be a carrot kind of approach, but I do see parallels here to the Winterfire no community meals issue. Shared participation builds bonds in ways that nothing else can, whether it is food or ritual, it's something that I think in the end really helps all the participants.
Turning to somewhat more personal matters....
I became aware at some point that every time I went near sex, this tape rolled in my head - "I am not good enough". I worked that for quite a while, trying to both notice it and overcome it. Of course, simply overcoming something like that is often problematic - without any knowledge of its root, overcoming is a little too much like ignoring. It doesn't work too well. I did not seem to make much progress on that approach. But then somehow it dawned on me: the problem is not so much I am not good enough, but rather that the same tape - "I am not good enough" - is a response to a deeper voice that scolds and reprimands and chides and denigrates. Once I found this vector, it felt different. Where did this voice come from?
And following a deep and heartfelt conversation with another participant - a conversation I not only did not know I was going to have, but also had no idea that it would take the crying painful direction it did take for me, I made this connection more tenaciously. He asked me at one point in reference to something else "Do you know whose voice it is?". that got me thinking a lot. IT is a way, I think, to try and approach the resolution or at least the management of this particular tape. If I can get to whose voice I hear, then I wonder if I can get to stopping the tape, perhaps beginning to erase it.
These are deep wounds, and I am not entirely sure I can heal them. They may continue on until I am dead. But I suppose in the end it makes more sense to at least try and work on them, to try and ameliorate the effects, and not simply let them continue to run me.
I hosted 3 workshops. The upside is.... I love giving this. The downside is that I miss almost ALL of the workshops I would like to attend, and here, that's quite a few!
Sexual meditations is really about a personal technique, and after 2 runs, and a small audience, I am gonna rethink this one. I love the method, I know the attendees love the result, but I'm not conveying something about this in the blurb. I either have to hard sell it or change tactics.
Body Image. This is ALWAYS a hard one. I had a good group this time, and all of us really put ourselves way out there with it. This time we had enough time each, and that made it a lot better. I also managed to remember to include a connect time at the END of the workshop - a simple circle and hold hands and an embrace one-on-one for each of us. I think that's important. The REALLY cool part about this is I was asked to present this workshop at a totally different venue later this year. This was a real honor, and I am hopeful I can pull it off (long distance to travel).
Body Painting. This was a first in this format. Last year I did a piece on the sacred mark - the idea there was to draw on the 50,000 year legacy of human beings to apply colors to the body. That went well, was quite different. This year, I decided I would have fun with it, plain and simple! So that we did: assembled about a dozen people and set up a nice range of crazy colors (silver and gold were huge hits!) and went at it. Lots of very cool designs, lots of interesting ideas, and then B and I paraded up vendors row with it! It was really fun. I plan to at least bring this to LR.
The Beltane rituals are really well done here. There is just the right blend of sacred, sensual and silly. They manage to be respectful while adding in a dash or two of irreverence to make it fun. It works well. I respect the process, and in fact wonder if it would make sense to go ahead and somehow require attendance at at least one of the rituals. Don't have any idea how that might work - maybe would have to be a carrot kind of approach, but I do see parallels here to the Winterfire no community meals issue. Shared participation builds bonds in ways that nothing else can, whether it is food or ritual, it's something that I think in the end really helps all the participants.
Turning to somewhat more personal matters....
I became aware at some point that every time I went near sex, this tape rolled in my head - "I am not good enough". I worked that for quite a while, trying to both notice it and overcome it. Of course, simply overcoming something like that is often problematic - without any knowledge of its root, overcoming is a little too much like ignoring. It doesn't work too well. I did not seem to make much progress on that approach. But then somehow it dawned on me: the problem is not so much I am not good enough, but rather that the same tape - "I am not good enough" - is a response to a deeper voice that scolds and reprimands and chides and denigrates. Once I found this vector, it felt different. Where did this voice come from?
And following a deep and heartfelt conversation with another participant - a conversation I not only did not know I was going to have, but also had no idea that it would take the crying painful direction it did take for me, I made this connection more tenaciously. He asked me at one point in reference to something else "Do you know whose voice it is?". that got me thinking a lot. IT is a way, I think, to try and approach the resolution or at least the management of this particular tape. If I can get to whose voice I hear, then I wonder if I can get to stopping the tape, perhaps beginning to erase it.
These are deep wounds, and I am not entirely sure I can heal them. They may continue on until I am dead. But I suppose in the end it makes more sense to at least try and work on them, to try and ameliorate the effects, and not simply let them continue to run me.
Monday, April 13, 2009
What do I need?
Honestly, I have no fucking idea.
The past few days have been an odd conflation of UP and down. UP due to wonderful houseguests - self maintaining, easy to get along with, etc. despite one being in a bit of a funk. The flip side: I am seriously overtired and out of synch foodwise, and I am really pent up horny in a way that doesn't roll around too often. Add to that I have a major sink clog in the kitchen - you get the idea.
It has led me to a place of wondering what I need.
Part of that stems from a relationship. Lover is wonderful - soft, warm, kind, loving, attentive... and she has 3 other BFs besides me. Yeah, I have processed jealousy. Been through it. I know it still appears. But this is not about that.
It's about my needs not being met, and, in a parallel fashion, having this weight of knowing, or at least feeling, that her interest in me, sexually, is low. Yeah, we do it, we have scened, may again, we have fucked, may again, but it is not enough for me somehow. I want her to want me deeply, and the lands me cultural jail (or perhaps cultural hell). I have this bizarre internal image of me fucking her to next Tuesday, drilling her hard until she gives it up and then she tells me, pantingly, "more" and I give it to her. I HATE this image. IT is part of a set of cultural baggage I cannot abide. But it's there. Like asore, it festers in my head and won't leave.
And I don't trust that as an image of "what I need". At times, maybe. More times, nope, not even close.
So what DO I "need"?
Someone to talk to. But that raises other problems. Like, if there is someone around that is available to talk, then if they are intimates, the talk is constrained. If they are not, the closeness is compromised.
Sleepy
The past few days have been an odd conflation of UP and down. UP due to wonderful houseguests - self maintaining, easy to get along with, etc. despite one being in a bit of a funk. The flip side: I am seriously overtired and out of synch foodwise, and I am really pent up horny in a way that doesn't roll around too often. Add to that I have a major sink clog in the kitchen - you get the idea.
It has led me to a place of wondering what I need.
Part of that stems from a relationship. Lover is wonderful - soft, warm, kind, loving, attentive... and she has 3 other BFs besides me. Yeah, I have processed jealousy. Been through it. I know it still appears. But this is not about that.
It's about my needs not being met, and, in a parallel fashion, having this weight of knowing, or at least feeling, that her interest in me, sexually, is low. Yeah, we do it, we have scened, may again, we have fucked, may again, but it is not enough for me somehow. I want her to want me deeply, and the lands me cultural jail (or perhaps cultural hell). I have this bizarre internal image of me fucking her to next Tuesday, drilling her hard until she gives it up and then she tells me, pantingly, "more" and I give it to her. I HATE this image. IT is part of a set of cultural baggage I cannot abide. But it's there. Like asore, it festers in my head and won't leave.
And I don't trust that as an image of "what I need". At times, maybe. More times, nope, not even close.
So what DO I "need"?
Someone to talk to. But that raises other problems. Like, if there is someone around that is available to talk, then if they are intimates, the talk is constrained. If they are not, the closeness is compromised.
Sleepy
Monday, March 09, 2009
Through a Glass Darkly
I'm really having issues around relationships these days. I crashed and burned REALLY badly this past weekend, feeling a deep sense of despair and rejection and a horrible sense of worthlessness. While a lot of the feelings appear to stem from a particular relationship, I'm not entirely convinced that it is that per se. Every time I try and analyze it,I seem to wind up in the same place: it comes from a deep seated sense of inadequacy. I'm puzzled and frustrated and even angry that it always seems to connect back to sex. Why is that? Why is it that the worst of the emotional freight train winds up there?
And each time I think I am past it, each time I feel like I am ok with her fucking someone else, some other, odd confusion of circumstance shows up that leads me away from that place of being ok. This time, it was around timing. I got sandwiched in between a call of being together and dinner/dance, that had her getting a great fuck in between that 2 hour window. On one level I am ok with it - pleasure is good, sharing is good, it's all fine. But I push my head into this sick little corner that says I am second fiddle, last, not desired simply beCAUSE of this. Part of me rejects it out of hand, and says I don't care if I feel that way, it makes no sense. But the larger and older and more powerful part of me takes over, reminding me that I am in fact undesirable, no good, not wanted, and that being last is part of who I have to be.
I went upstairs and cried really hard for half an hour. Inside I felt I wanted to reject ALL relationships, run away from ALL possibility of pain, and I tried this. I then texted and said don't contact me anymore. I think I was subconsciously reaching out past my broken, fucked up self, and wanting desperately for her to find that broken me and soothe it, come back to it. I feel disingenuous about that, a lie I cannot stop. I took it further, though, and sent that same note to another whom I love. Reject everything, the mind said, and avoid it all. "Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here" might as well have been the sign I had hanging on my head.
Funny how, after 24+ hours of reflection (which included me processing this with her over deep tears, as well as a passing remark after I apologized for being so fragile, that she thought we should probably talk about that) I am now entering some sort of anger phase. It's a kind perverse play on the Kubler-Ross stages - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. First for me in this case was depression, followed by bargaining, then some denial, and now I feel this odd anger. Who am I angry at? I think it is me, but am not so sure.
(return to this later. It is nice to finally have back something that is not read by others I know. IF you're passing through, please comment. I don't know you - it's safe)
And each time I think I am past it, each time I feel like I am ok with her fucking someone else, some other, odd confusion of circumstance shows up that leads me away from that place of being ok. This time, it was around timing. I got sandwiched in between a call of being together and dinner/dance, that had her getting a great fuck in between that 2 hour window. On one level I am ok with it - pleasure is good, sharing is good, it's all fine. But I push my head into this sick little corner that says I am second fiddle, last, not desired simply beCAUSE of this. Part of me rejects it out of hand, and says I don't care if I feel that way, it makes no sense. But the larger and older and more powerful part of me takes over, reminding me that I am in fact undesirable, no good, not wanted, and that being last is part of who I have to be.
I went upstairs and cried really hard for half an hour. Inside I felt I wanted to reject ALL relationships, run away from ALL possibility of pain, and I tried this. I then texted and said don't contact me anymore. I think I was subconsciously reaching out past my broken, fucked up self, and wanting desperately for her to find that broken me and soothe it, come back to it. I feel disingenuous about that, a lie I cannot stop. I took it further, though, and sent that same note to another whom I love. Reject everything, the mind said, and avoid it all. "Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here" might as well have been the sign I had hanging on my head.
Funny how, after 24+ hours of reflection (which included me processing this with her over deep tears, as well as a passing remark after I apologized for being so fragile, that she thought we should probably talk about that) I am now entering some sort of anger phase. It's a kind perverse play on the Kubler-Ross stages - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. First for me in this case was depression, followed by bargaining, then some denial, and now I feel this odd anger. Who am I angry at? I think it is me, but am not so sure.
(return to this later. It is nice to finally have back something that is not read by others I know. IF you're passing through, please comment. I don't know you - it's safe)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Desire
I’ve thought a lot about my desire and the nature of it – how it manifests itself, what it means to me, how I claim it and thus satisfy it. It is in some ways more mysterious now than before, which is odd given my new found proclivity to self-expression, outing, and the like. But here is what I think I really know.
I’m pretty well settled on the idea of “being both genders”. That is new to me, but I feel it deeply. At times, I feel a strong male force, at other times a strong female force. These manifest differently, and the nexus of my desire is surely mediated by how that force feels within me at a given moment. There was a time when being bisexual seemed to be “it”, and all that flowed from that felt like it was the real me. But of late, that sometimes seems more an ideology than a claimed, real identity, so I’ve let a lot of that go. I just don’t have a lot of interest in subscribing to ideologies. Being both is nice. I simply feel what I feel internally and enjoy the variety of expressions that can emerge. It only becomes a bit of a problem when I feel constraints: social, political, etc. There really are times when that expression must take a back seat to other concerns. But this too has not been a bother. I am secure in self-knowledge, at least along gender identity lines..
Things get decidedly more muddied once I step into the realm of my actual physical desires. On the one hand, I can easily apply the feeling of who I am at the moment to a thought process that lets me exercise those desires in my head. At the same time, it is not at all clear to me that I know what I want, or what is most deeply satisfying to me. That word – satisfy – is a problem. It is not simply “getting off”. I can do that alone and at times it is what I need. “Satisfy” often feels like a two-way street, something that depends on the ability to connect with a partner, deeply, and to have a chance to really let my duality out of the box, so to speak.
I think I have recognized that, to date, there has never been a physical experience that has really touched me inside in a way that speaks to the idea of “satisfy”. It’s not that those encounters I have had have somehow been deficient or wrong, or that the partners I’ve been with have been insufficient. It is more like there is a gap between what I am actually able to manifest as the whole me at that moment and the physical experience itself that I am having. As I think back on the many experiences I have had, I realize that many of them have been very strong and deep, but that no single experience comes close to reaching inside the whole me. The problem is I have no clear sense of what such an experience might even look like (or even if such experiences can exist at all). And, to further complicate things, I think it is possible that each encounter is, in part by it’s very nature (that of two or more together trying to encounter themselves through others), inherently self-limiting, that it will never be “complete” in the sense of meeting my (or others in that particular encounter) deeper desires. I’m not positive about this, of course, but it seems like this is a strong possibility. What, if anything, can be done?
One aspect of my desire in the context of it being a shared experience is that it seems inherently a matter of compromise. Unless we can truly claim to know ourselves in a way that facilitates that true deep connection (and if we cannot really know it alone, by ourselves, can we hope to know it in a shared context, in others?) then the process must somehow involve, even demand, give and take. To a certain extent, this seems likely to mean that one or more of the involved parties will be doing something that they don’t necessarily want to do. This is a decidedly gray line, broad and fizzy, because doing something one might not want to do is not always a matter of against one’s will entirely. And besides, the whole point of top/bottom, dominant/submissive is that same against the will thing. I’m not at all sure where any of this might lead, and it surely problematizes the matter. The best one can say, I guess, is that “against the will” is both a matter and willingness of clear communications and of negotiation.
I’m pretty well settled on the idea of “being both genders”. That is new to me, but I feel it deeply. At times, I feel a strong male force, at other times a strong female force. These manifest differently, and the nexus of my desire is surely mediated by how that force feels within me at a given moment. There was a time when being bisexual seemed to be “it”, and all that flowed from that felt like it was the real me. But of late, that sometimes seems more an ideology than a claimed, real identity, so I’ve let a lot of that go. I just don’t have a lot of interest in subscribing to ideologies. Being both is nice. I simply feel what I feel internally and enjoy the variety of expressions that can emerge. It only becomes a bit of a problem when I feel constraints: social, political, etc. There really are times when that expression must take a back seat to other concerns. But this too has not been a bother. I am secure in self-knowledge, at least along gender identity lines..
Things get decidedly more muddied once I step into the realm of my actual physical desires. On the one hand, I can easily apply the feeling of who I am at the moment to a thought process that lets me exercise those desires in my head. At the same time, it is not at all clear to me that I know what I want, or what is most deeply satisfying to me. That word – satisfy – is a problem. It is not simply “getting off”. I can do that alone and at times it is what I need. “Satisfy” often feels like a two-way street, something that depends on the ability to connect with a partner, deeply, and to have a chance to really let my duality out of the box, so to speak.
I think I have recognized that, to date, there has never been a physical experience that has really touched me inside in a way that speaks to the idea of “satisfy”. It’s not that those encounters I have had have somehow been deficient or wrong, or that the partners I’ve been with have been insufficient. It is more like there is a gap between what I am actually able to manifest as the whole me at that moment and the physical experience itself that I am having. As I think back on the many experiences I have had, I realize that many of them have been very strong and deep, but that no single experience comes close to reaching inside the whole me. The problem is I have no clear sense of what such an experience might even look like (or even if such experiences can exist at all). And, to further complicate things, I think it is possible that each encounter is, in part by it’s very nature (that of two or more together trying to encounter themselves through others), inherently self-limiting, that it will never be “complete” in the sense of meeting my (or others in that particular encounter) deeper desires. I’m not positive about this, of course, but it seems like this is a strong possibility. What, if anything, can be done?
One aspect of my desire in the context of it being a shared experience is that it seems inherently a matter of compromise. Unless we can truly claim to know ourselves in a way that facilitates that true deep connection (and if we cannot really know it alone, by ourselves, can we hope to know it in a shared context, in others?) then the process must somehow involve, even demand, give and take. To a certain extent, this seems likely to mean that one or more of the involved parties will be doing something that they don’t necessarily want to do. This is a decidedly gray line, broad and fizzy, because doing something one might not want to do is not always a matter of against one’s will entirely. And besides, the whole point of top/bottom, dominant/submissive is that same against the will thing. I’m not at all sure where any of this might lead, and it surely problematizes the matter. The best one can say, I guess, is that “against the will” is both a matter and willingness of clear communications and of negotiation.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Reflections
It's been a really bumpy month. Following a really nice visit with my sister right after Christmas, I returned and got hammered by a flu. In very short order thereafter, I then wound up getting results from a doctor visit that were not so fun: I have bladder cancer. He insisted on doing the surgical stuff right away - which wound up being immediately prior to an already planned and paid for visit to my brother.
But in I went. And it was not fun. I was in the hospital for 5 days. They removed a largish tumor from the bladder, put me on a drip, added a catheter. I began a recovery process that was, to say the least, memorable. I wound up with something called 'ilius', a condition fairly common in patients who get full anesthesia, whereby your entire intestinal and digestive system simply go to sleep. This is a miserable fucking experience. You blow up like a balloon. You have to walk to "wake it up". You stop eating real food. When things do start happening, which for me was SLOW, the results are not fun either. Let's just say that I was thinking that all that methane? Mighta helped alleviate the energy crisis. I did begin to pull out of this, but that was after a serious nose dive into a black hole - I was really wanting a DNR, and they finally sent in an advocate who talked me off the ledge. Over the 5 days, I did recover, but it was hard. I would up also with a really painful area in my left groin, sort of like having a knife shoved in there. IT's now numb, and feels like a cut, but isn't. It's very disconcerting, to say the least.
And I did, obviously, survive that hospital stay.
I now have 6 chemo treatments coming up. Then I have a recheck (they drive yet ANOTHER school bus up my peepee and look around!) in June or July. The prognosis seems to be good now, but this will be a lifelong thing for me. I've also realized that, among the options for more serious cases in which, well, it gets nasty, I have decided I will not go to that extreme. When the body is that far gone - it's time. I'm not there now, and may never be, but this experience does cause some deep reflection.
The emotional fallout is really hard too. I was really taken aback when X was the person who figured out I needed serious help and called in the advocate. She was impressive and sat with me the whole next day. I also got wonderful support from others- CPG, BTB, Bro, Sis, -and all of that is deeply felt. The odd part about the emotional stuff, though, started after it was over.
It's not uncommon either. I feel defective. Damaged. Broken. There is no scar, but my head is not clear on this at all. I'm only missing "sick" parts of me, but I feel like I lost something larger. I was really scared about sex, and that whole part of my self-identification fell apart. It's only now beginning to recover.
I've since had conversations with sis (breast cancer survivor), a dear friend (wife survived Hodgkins AND breast cancer) and found that this post operative emotional scarring is common. It was really powerful to get to know my sister on that level - I'd know about her cancer, of course, but not about the post stuff, the numbness, the feeling of being broken. It's really odd and at times I feel I am coming apart, that life is over, why bother.
Then I have some good conversation, or a hug or a kiss and feel a little more whole again. It's hard all around. I don't want to be a burden to others. And I sure don't want pity per se. But I also know I need emotional support, and getting it is maybe more important than anything. It helps me normalize my life again, it is an outlet for odd, new feelings.
To the many in my life who have touched me: thank you. It's been a powerful healing process.
I'm not done with this. But at least for now, I seem to be ahead of it.
And one thing I did really get from the hospital stay.... There's a lot of stuff in life that's important. But, most of it is UNimportant. You learn, deeply, what matters. You learn to reach out for that and hold on to it. That matters. All that other crap? Doesn't matter.
But in I went. And it was not fun. I was in the hospital for 5 days. They removed a largish tumor from the bladder, put me on a drip, added a catheter. I began a recovery process that was, to say the least, memorable. I wound up with something called 'ilius', a condition fairly common in patients who get full anesthesia, whereby your entire intestinal and digestive system simply go to sleep. This is a miserable fucking experience. You blow up like a balloon. You have to walk to "wake it up". You stop eating real food. When things do start happening, which for me was SLOW, the results are not fun either. Let's just say that I was thinking that all that methane? Mighta helped alleviate the energy crisis. I did begin to pull out of this, but that was after a serious nose dive into a black hole - I was really wanting a DNR, and they finally sent in an advocate who talked me off the ledge. Over the 5 days, I did recover, but it was hard. I would up also with a really painful area in my left groin, sort of like having a knife shoved in there. IT's now numb, and feels like a cut, but isn't. It's very disconcerting, to say the least.
And I did, obviously, survive that hospital stay.
I now have 6 chemo treatments coming up. Then I have a recheck (they drive yet ANOTHER school bus up my peepee and look around!) in June or July. The prognosis seems to be good now, but this will be a lifelong thing for me. I've also realized that, among the options for more serious cases in which, well, it gets nasty, I have decided I will not go to that extreme. When the body is that far gone - it's time. I'm not there now, and may never be, but this experience does cause some deep reflection.
The emotional fallout is really hard too. I was really taken aback when X was the person who figured out I needed serious help and called in the advocate. She was impressive and sat with me the whole next day. I also got wonderful support from others- CPG, BTB, Bro, Sis, -and all of that is deeply felt. The odd part about the emotional stuff, though, started after it was over.
It's not uncommon either. I feel defective. Damaged. Broken. There is no scar, but my head is not clear on this at all. I'm only missing "sick" parts of me, but I feel like I lost something larger. I was really scared about sex, and that whole part of my self-identification fell apart. It's only now beginning to recover.
I've since had conversations with sis (breast cancer survivor), a dear friend (wife survived Hodgkins AND breast cancer) and found that this post operative emotional scarring is common. It was really powerful to get to know my sister on that level - I'd know about her cancer, of course, but not about the post stuff, the numbness, the feeling of being broken. It's really odd and at times I feel I am coming apart, that life is over, why bother.
Then I have some good conversation, or a hug or a kiss and feel a little more whole again. It's hard all around. I don't want to be a burden to others. And I sure don't want pity per se. But I also know I need emotional support, and getting it is maybe more important than anything. It helps me normalize my life again, it is an outlet for odd, new feelings.
To the many in my life who have touched me: thank you. It's been a powerful healing process.
I'm not done with this. But at least for now, I seem to be ahead of it.
And one thing I did really get from the hospital stay.... There's a lot of stuff in life that's important. But, most of it is UNimportant. You learn, deeply, what matters. You learn to reach out for that and hold on to it. That matters. All that other crap? Doesn't matter.
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