Purpureus

Dear Purpurea,

I admit I've been feeling a little guilty, Purpurea: just a little. I feel that I've been too greedy with the flesh-and-blood you; too covetous, too obsessive. Too monstrously in love and blazing like the sun about something that is best reserved for situations where I am engaged with someone, flesh-and-blood. In other words, fantasizing. And what does that do to a real woman, when a man is off fantasizing and projecting and painting an entire iconography on someone who gave no consent to do so; could not; would never.

Well, this guilt is me being very cautious, for I can be very obsessive. My behavior is always ethical to others (no stalking or even building shrines or anything like that); it is however destructive to myself. This is not good, so I am circumspect. Is this a fantasy, is this me avoiding reality in some way?

Let me reflect.

1. I am becoming less and less interested in the person I originally named Purpurea, for the sake of separating the real person from the symbol. That plan is working.

2. Along those lines, I am feeling Purpurea in other people and even in aspects of my own life. This is a beautiful development.

3. I like to think I'm a little older and wiser by now. I am certainly more in my body that I have been and, consequently, I am processing feelings much more thoroughly. It feels more real and safer than in the past. This certainly does not feel like a symptom of depression; rather, it is the opposite: it is quite uplifting and bringing me closer to other people, bringing me out in the world.

4. While writing to you, Purpurea, is a way of me reconciling with my loneliness; it is just that: me reconciling with my loneliness. Not avoiding it.

5. I have become Purpureus to someone else. It's only natural, right? We were all in an open, permeable emotional state this weekend, and of course it was ripe for everyone to project and attach to one another. So, just as I brought all good things to lie on your table, someone brought all good things to lie on mine. In fact, I am quite impressed that she expressed all of this to my face. I feel I did not accept the expression gratefully - a mixture of embarrassment and confusion kept a lot back.

In short, I in no way feel violated or that too much of a burden was placed on me. Rather, I feel like I could not possibly give back enough for this honor.

I am an adult, and I know what boundaries are. I can let go of the worry.

And so, Purpurea, let's continue on our way. I want to keep the fire alive. It is so much for me to burn for you...

Eternally yours,
Peliens

Purpurea

Dear Purpurea,

Hi again. It's me. The normal course of things would keep me quiet, keep me from going out of my way to contact you. But you've stuck in me, Purpurea, so I'm reaching out. Reaching back. If it were not igniting so much passion, so much raw, flesh-skinning passion in me, I would call it devious. But it is a kind of passion I could never regret immersing in. It is thick with the weight of my body and ignites at the temperature of my dreams. It feels proper and tastes astringent and delicious.

But that persistence, the obsession, the glory, is my own doing, not yours. For that reason, I am writing not to you, the flesh-and-blood, real you, but to someone I have named Purpurea, who resides somewhere through the internet, at the other end of my blog. Purpurea is your afterglow, the fingerprints left from an encounter in history. Purpurea is your after image, impressed so strongly in me because of what is already there, what is eager to find you and hold onto what I can experience of you, as if I am a predator who has evolved to waken and tense at your scent.

Where have you brought me? Something old in me has woken up. Something I felt I had put aside a long time ago. It has to do with that burst of infatuation that is sometimes irresponsibly called falling in love. Which I could be tempted to call what is emerging right now. But that is not the surprising thing being dredged up.

It's less personal, less gritty. It is a feeling; it is images; it is a sense of something mysterious and great, something that is not love but which compels me to fall in love, over and over again. To lend my heart out. Yeah, it's a good thing.

A lot of images appear in my mind. Sometimes I get the image of cities and deserts; wheat-colored houses in clean, colorful villages off somewhere in the plains and deserts of Asia. Sometimes it looks like something similar: Santa Fe, which you have given me the occasion to really miss with my gut for the first time. It is nights spent wandering around the streets, hoping to find something that would change my life forever in mundane things, a statue glimpsed through a gallery window. A fountain in the back of an apartment complex. The gentle blue glow emanating from a car stereo. The post-twilight darkness over the Jemez.

I am left feeling torn, longing. I feel the dumb, obvious pain of not being able to be close to you physically. I know this is not what it's all about, and that I am particularly bad about perceiving the difference between a real and false opportunity - what would actually satisfy me. Still, I have to mourn a little bit. I know you are set in a strong, beautiful pairbond, and the best I can do is signify my respect in the most formal way possible. Though I carry a wound, I will not tear at what you have created.

How did this start? You got my attention with your tall, lithe, doe-limbed body and beautiful face. I will not hide the fact that this carries weight with me, no matter how superficial I tell myself it is. One can love a body.

Personality, as much as it is a mask, can count for something. At one moment, when I happened to overhear you talking to someone else, I noted to myself how much the rhythm of your thoughts and your choice of words resonated with my heartstrings. I liked your melody and rhythm. You speak from a place of strength and repose that is rare. You are thoughtful, insightful, modest, curious and self-aware.

Each time I looked into your big, warm, brown eyes, I wanted to swim in them. So open, wide and welcoming. Your hand trembled in mine, stirred by some feeling whose name I will never hear. For one moment, yours grasped mine firmly, searching for encounter. It arrived.

So now I am unraveling this package, the result of that encounter. A feeling settling inside me, making itself at home, expanding into something else. Leading off into the distance.

Purpurea, I want to go there.

I want to continue writing to you, so you can stroll your fully-blossomed form, so I can see what you really are.

I think we will leave the breathing you, the flesh-and-blood you, to her happy pursuits up in Santa Fe, and I will learn how to approach you in the furnace of my loneliness, invite you to take your place in that seat from which you cannot rise again, deep inside me.

Let's do this.

Eternally yours,
Peliens

Liposuction

I'm sick of your thoughts.
I'm sick of your ideas.
I'm sick of your plans.
I'm sick of your story.
I'm sick of your talents.
I'm sick of your praise.
I'm sick of your fantasies.
I'm sick of your kindness.
I'm sick of your mannerisms.
I'm sick of your memories.
I'm sick of your symphonies.
I'm sick of your games.
I'm sick of your poetry.
I'm sick of your dancing.
I'm sick of your jokes.
I'm sick of your excuses.
I'm sick of your distance.
I'm sick of your phone calls.
I'm sick of your habits.
I'm sick of your fears.
I'm sick of your pet peeves.
I'm sick of your complaints.
I'm sick of your triumph.
I'm sick of your distractions.
I'm sick of your adventures.
I'm sick of your tranquility.
I'm sick of your help.

Just you, please.

Ripples

Chains of water rise up
In battlements, waterworks
In the common wave.

Drops of water sink
In trenches, forgetting
Each their own design.

Dreamtime

My attempt to make good use of the witching hours last night did not work - my alarm went off right in the middle of REM sleep, and I woke up feeling tired and angry, which led to ... me going back to sleep. I woke up a few hours later, but, still feeling tired, I stayed in bed until my alarm went off.

My dreams continue to be epic, vivid, hilarious, wonderful - everything great. Last night's was convoluted in a way that could barely fit in a novel. I remember a lot, but only a slim fraction. Here was the best part: I was hired by the band KISS to be a violinist and show up to a rehearsal. Myself, three fully-made-up KISS band members (I don't know about them very well and would never have been able to dream them accurately, so their identities must remain pretty generic) and some tall, middle-aged guy in a fancy business suit are present on the stage in a large concert hall. I do know who Gene Simmons is, and I don't think he was there.

Before the rehearsing can begin, I realize I don't know the songs. The business guy pushes me aside, and I sit at the sideline, patiently waiting for the moment when I'm called back in. I am not. Gradually (or suddenly?) the room is filled with an audience, and the band is filled out with other members (not in makeup), including another violinist. The show is a passionate blitzkrieg of awesomeness, and the audience is loving it. I am so excited to be a part of the band, even though I have obviously been sidelined. It doesn't bother me. In fact, I plan on contacting Brad Warner to show off my connections with KISS.

So it's kind of sad and funny at the same time, and it even reflects some thoughts I've had recently about a trend in my dreams (not knowing the script). Crazy. I love dreams. That's why I ask everyone to dream well. The time you're asleep is not without its adventures and excitement.

So tomorrow I attend a workshop with a strong focus on inner-work and transformation. But it would be more valuable to write about it afterward than before, so that's what I shall do. Until then, dear readers.

Dream, well.

Introversion

The darkened room sits
Somewhere between my typing fingers
And the sight of me sleeping.

Exquisite

More luscious, friend-filled dreams this morning. Whatever is going on, I'm not missing my early mornings, nor looking at it as a failure on my part.

Today was a great day. I must admit that my no video plans are out the window at the moment; but, just as with the whole waking up long before dawn thing, it seems to be filling a need, so I'm content.

I'm getting a lot done, even if my list of goals continues to be far beyond what I am capable of doing in the course of a day. It doesn't bother me as much anymore. That is life: all ends are loose. You just keep going.

I have been playing a lot more music these days. I've narrowed in on one piece to focus on until I get it to a point of perfection: the song "Climbing the Walls" by They Might Be Giants. I came up with a simple, simple accordion accompaniment. I'd like to make a video and post it to a youtube channel once it's performance ready. From there, I'll move on to another piece, with the goal once again to make a youtube video. And so on. I have already promised a video to my facebook friends, but it's too difficult for the moment. It will maybe be the next one.

I've been keeping an eye on my feelings of guilt. After about a week of feeling overloaded with burdens and failures to other people, the storm is dissipating, and I am beginning to see quite clearly how much of it all is fantasy. What I mean is, when I worry that someone else is disapproving, it is simply me being hard on myself using my imagination. Sometimes people actually disapprove, and I can simply change my behavior (or not) and get over with. Logically, it's not worth ruminating about, but it fills some need on some level, otherwise I wouldn't do it.

Is it a need for disapproval? Or, as I was writing earlier, is it a redounding effect of my own anger? Say I feel disappointed in somebody about something. I don't express my anger. Does it then come back to me as a fear of disapproval? Is that, in turn, based on a fear that this anger will be discovered?

I can't pinpoint exactly, but I get the sense that the truth lies somewhere in that area, and that I would go around feeling less guilty if I handled my own anger better. Which means expressing it much, much more. So hard to do, if you're not already in the habit.

I'll try right now:
Fuck you, anyone who reads this but hasn't subscribed! GRRR. I'm angry at you.

Ah, it's not the same on the internet. But it's something, for now. There is a voice saying ("Wait, no, I'm not really angry!") inside of me.

Let's just leave it at that observation.

Dream well, all.

Straining

Tilting to frosted glass,
The violet fills its petals
With dim, winter light.

Running, Flying, Hopping, Jumping

A strange but good day, where I go back and forth between spending time "wisely" and "wasting" it, but doing both with gusto and ending up fairly satisfied, if not ecstatic.

Yes, I want to be ecstatic, though, is the problem.

I've been waking up very, very tired and needing to sleep in. That means 7. It's been going tolerably well, but it would still be nice to get a head start on things in the morning. Maybe I just need the sleep, is all. Sleep is not a bad thing.

I've been having very vivid dreams during these hours (4 - 7). This morning I dreamed I went on a tour to Chavin de Huantar, one of the ancient sites in Peru I wanted to visit but didn't get to last summer. Except, instead of being a gray ruin on a grassy hill, it was a big, stone institutional building, kind of like a mall or convention center. My companions and I entered and found long tunnels making weird gurgling sounds (something that vaguely resembles the actual site, which was meant to invoke terror at the power of some ancient god), but soon the place was lit and filled with people. Somewhat disappointing.

Myself, a young woman and a young man went outside, to get away from the crowd. A thickly planted garden path led to a river. The two others jumped in, but I stayed out, not wanting to get my pants wet.

Once again, I hold myself back from communion... :(

Then we try to rejoin our "tour group," realizing we have broken some rules (they more than I), but knowing we can emerge from a session of scolding and reprimands whole and unscathed.

(As always, there's a lot more to it, but it would take to long to go over every detail .)

This dream led into this busy day, where I engaged in physical activities (meditation, yoga, cleaning, cooking, lifting weights) for almost 2 hours before sitting at the computer, doing good solid work, applying to several interesting jobs.

I spent a large amount of time playing a computer game today. Here's where I can see I can do better with myself, but it's okay. I did a fair amount of work. I can continue to do more and more until it all begins to click and the accomplishments begin to pile up. Or something like that.

And now, I must go back to bed. The day is too short.

Dream well, all.

Sines

So yesterday worked. It was terribly peaceful. I noticed how I am always wanting to check my e-mail, check for messages. Not that I am not aware of this tendency normally, but it stood out. Observing myself get flustered when I knew I couldn't check my e-mail made me laugh. It's really quite silly.

But here I am, doing it again. I don't know what to think of that. I am not truly going to give e-mail (or any other of these things) up, but I'd like to do better. I think that simply means more of these observations.

Actually, today sucked. I did get some solid work done, but it was scattered and filled with distractions.

One particular theme I observed: loneliness and the need to avoid it.

I have actually been doing quite well at keeping myself connected with people, granted my lack of employment and scarcity of close friends in Albuquerque.

I think what I need to remember is to be comfortable with the loneliness itself, which I grow tired of. I begin to feel frustrated and restless, like an animal disconnected from the herd. Ultimately, I am not alone. My head is filled with misconceptions and prejudices about the nature of my life, who I am, how I relate to others. There are some deep-seated things that I - along with everyone else - need to work on. But a lot of it is more superficial. I tend to feel a lot of guilt, and, rather than looking at this as a systematic problem,  it's been helpful for me to look at it as a reverberation of my own anger, my own reliance on others and subsequent disappointment. There is not a single situation where I feel unusually guilty where I did not tend to look at myself as powerless first. If I can remind myself of this, all the better.

Aside from all these little life technologies, I really do wonder where it's all going, what I am going to do with myself.

Of course, that is what I must decide. But taking up the reins of that decision... it's something monumental - for everyone. That's all I can say.

Dream well, all.

Sapient

Arriving home from the dance,
I forget my scarf in the car.
It does not seem to mind.

Center of Gravity

I went contra dancing tonight - it's been a long time. It feels good for so many reasons. It's a deep, oceanic good feeling that tugs at my insides like an ebbing tide tugging at rocks and coral. It's raw sexuality - something I don't express nearly often enough.

It was good to go back into something familiar, something I am skilled at and can enjoy with little to no stress involved.

It was also good to observe how I have grown. Even though I am comfortable at these little functions, I have always ended up at the sidelines, often without a partner. Not tonight. I think this was the first time.

And there was something different about the way I danced. Something different inside. I can describe it as a stronger awareness of my sexuality. A tendency to really enjoy all my dance partners quite fully.

There were a couple partners, maybe even just one, where the bond felt particularly sexual. The dance didn't become a sexual encounter, nor do I ever expect it to (although I did meet my first girlfriend* at a contra dance), but I like feeling that open. It's like a musical note played along my spine.

I really love contra dancing for the quick and deep physical intimacy it allows, like no other form of dancing I have tried (and I've given a quite a few of them a fair chance). There is the sustained, steady eye contact, of course. All the hand holding and other standard postures and procedures.

But then there is the swing, where the two dancers give up their own individual centers of gravity and exchange it for a common one, in between them. This sounds kind of abstract, like a thin metaphor or even a scientific phenomenon, but, really, there is a profound, immediate feeling to it.

If you allow it. You really get to know someone physically. It is a lot like sex that way. Maybe your left brain cannot process everything into concrete thoughts, but in those 8 beats or so, you can sort of get an assessment of his or her whole body. You can sense their organs, by means of the weight and tilt they add to the swing. You gain a lot.

Really, it's a shame that it's not more popular. Or maybe it's not a shame. Maybe its lack of general popularity means the groups are smaller and tighter and more honest.

More common forms of dancing seem so cold, empty and distant to me. I honestly don't understand the appeal of most of the solo club dancing.

Salsa and swing, kind of make sense, but they have never worked. Probably worth exploring again, as my attitude toward my body changes.

But back to me feeling good tonight. That's where I am. Floating just a little bit.

Tomorrow I engage in my IT blackout, so no entry. We'll see how it goes. The only two things I really feel frustrated about are Python and fiction writing. I may or may not continue writing the story I've been working on, but, at the very least, I'll be writing a lot of notes and story outlines tomorrow.
Python I'll just have to accept. I need to spend more time during the week. I can probably slow down quite a bit with the homework catch up - I'm way ahead in class anyway.

So, with that, I drift into Sunday.

Dream well, all.

*Requires qualification I don't want to spend time on right now

Rusht

The pen's ink reminds
The careless, taut muscles of the eye,
What ground, broken pigments are like.

It's Too Time

Writing continues. It's going very well. I'm pleased with what I have.

It's back to the drawing board, as far as job searching goes. I've still got a few applications dangling around in the fissures of bureaucratic lassitude, so I'm going to be sending a few more out.

Felt a little pang of rejection this morning. More because of the company's inability to follow up on their promise to give me phone call than the fact that they decided not to hire me. I am overqualified for that job, and I can do better for myself.

For some reason the dating metaphor sticks again. It's as if I went on two dates with someone, and I was somewhat interested but ultimately unsure, and she was unsure on the surface, but mostly uninterested. So, at the end of the second date, she says she'll call me for the next one, but never does. I'm left to think for myself: okay, she's probably not interested, but was there some failure to communicate? I try to call a couple times, but she doesn't pick up. I give up at that point. Certainly annoyed at the false promise and the shoddy, disrespectful failure to be explicit, but keeping clearly in mind that I am quite happy to move on.

So here I am. No sitting in a windowless office next to a noisy copier for less pay than I would like and no benefits. Man, it sounds like a stinker when I describe it like that.

But no more about that stuff. Actually, it's time to go to bed, and I ought to be firm with the amount of rest I allow myself. The biggest thing on my mind at the moment is Sunday - I plan on going through with an IT blackout. That will mean no computer, no phone, no alarm clocks or watches (I use two regularly). I'm also thinking no car, but that's not so essential (as long as I don't use the radio). But i's not much of a sacrifice - I can always do without driving.

I think I should post a message somewhere, telling people they'll need to see me in person if they want to talk with me on Sunday. Not that I'm a terribly in-demand kind of person.

So, of course, I won't be blogging on Sunday. I often don't blog, but this time there's a meaning behind it.

The real challenge is going to be getting everything done I want to get done tomorrow: it could mean quite a lot of coding and writing. At least 4 hours coding and perhaps a solid two of writing. We'll see.

I'll sleep on it.

Dream well, all.

Scintilla

Sand pushes up foot,
Water rushes parallel to ear.
Nothing felt, nothing heard.

Pressurefruit

So I may have a job, or not. They said they would call me by five with a definite answer, yes or no. So I go to sleep without any knowledge. Stressful? A little. I'm just confused, really. And...

I firmly believe that the thoroughly productive evening I had was largely due to this strange, insecure place. It's as if: only by doing the thing I've been feeling so much anxiety about - writing fiction - will I make it through this. Though that's not quite right: "make it through this." It's not a tragedy, and it hasn't felt like one. But I still feel it was just the right flavor of stress to push me toward having a good evening.

It feels kind of weird, being successful with my to-do lists. I am left with the knowledge that I got everything done (at least partly), but I really miss the feeling of having spent all day on one thing. It's more hard core, and it's more satisfying to feel like you've made 8-hours'-worth of progress on one thing than it is to look back on 1-hour's-worth of progress on 8 things (python, c++, reading, writing, website work, violin, accordion, job search - yep, that's 8. I guessed right). How can I make that happen? Modern life is so disposed to telling me that's impossible - unless I'm working for someone else. That's not right! Really, people become skilled in a craft and do good work without starving to death - though perhaps that period of risk really exposes your honest commitment to the work.

The reason why that can work, is because we're talking about "a" craft. I'm carry around at least 4 with me at all times. I see the value in focus - but I don't want to lose what I've started. Music, writing and coding are all valuable to me (even if coding is something I just recently resurrected). Maybe if I focus on just the three, it will be okay? There are a couple other things to pile in, but maybe they can wait on the back burner for a while (or at least only appear in small doses): foreign languages, electronics, sustainability / gardening. Hobbies, perhaps.

So life is full of possibilities. Good.

Dream well, all.

I wrote a longer entry, but I decided to cut it all down

I had a long to-do list today, and I got most of the things done. This is one of them. Another was to finish the Asimov book The Currents of Space. I really liked it - at least compared with some of the other books I've read by Asimov recently, where all the characters - no matter what the setting - seem like 1950s suburban stereotypes. Currents allows its characters a little mystery: dignity and madness. No jolly gee willikers and chain smoking.

Class was fun today: for the first time, we actually went over some exercises in class with the computers in front of us. I realize that's how I imagined the class would go from the beginning, but here we are, five weeks into it. I've been giving myself extra homework so I can get more practice, and I am getting quite comfortable with the language.

That's about it. It's been a solid day. The only significant thing to consider is that I did not get everything done on my list. It's fine that I didn't get everything done - I realize that I can come up with unrealistic workloads for myself. What I'm wondering is how to come up with more realistic work loads. Everything seems important yet - I can't do everything. The contradiction at the heart of my life for the past few months.

I am working through my feelings earlier this week, slowly. My life is well-suited to working through emotions. I feel I could use more close companionship during the week - it all tends to get pushed to the weekends.  But it's good that I'm feeling that, that I'm realizing that. I want to say I've gotten to another level of vulnerability down in me, which could be entirely true. I could do still more to be forgiving with myself, happy with myself, full in myself. Truly dealing with the feeling of loneliness, rather that simply trying to cover it up.

What I wrote in the longer entry boils down to this: thinking about haiku, I realize that I normally think of myself as detached from the core of reality - from truth, from what is real. Like tunnel-vision. An image that comes to mind is being in a play without a script - feeling the need to act, but feeling like the knowledge I need to act is not really at hand. Other people no doubt feel the same way. The silly part is: we could all relax and grow if we all admitted we don't have the script - but we don't. We choose to protect the momentum of this big show of ours rather than face the truth. Saying you don't know your role is an uncomfortable vulnerability. What would get us all to let it go?

So there it is, in a paragraph. A nice metaphor for life, if a little complicated. Don't call Hallmark anytime soon.

Dream well, all.

Something a little longer

Stretched wide and low,
Opaque like porcelain,
River wide and long
Exposed herself to me.

With flights of cranes, lazy,
Whispering in ribbons
Like tired, gray dragons
In search of watery beds;

A hawk, a goose, a snowy
Mountain range. A dog, a man
On a run, children playing,
Sad singing of cars on the road:

A show. The ticket-less audience
Hums patiently for the end;
His roses ready for the company,
The house the pit. Bravo.

Grit

Rocks in my stomach,
Splinters emerging from between my teeth,
I am choked with unity.

Retractor

After bursts of emotion, I pull myself back in a little bit today. Feeling a little too vulnerable, too insistent upon leaning on others for working through my feelings.

Once again, I am left wishing I had more to give than to take. I have a lot to take, still.

I have some more work to do with my cold showers. I realize that, due to my confusion about how my faucet operates, the tiniest bit of hot water was getting in - I'll need to try it on full arctic blast tomorrow morning.

I had a lot of nervous energy today: after an excellent job interview, I could do nothing beyond playing the accordion. I tried making a video of myself playing pirate music, but it proved too difficult for the moment, so I'll leave that for another time. But I'd like to finish soon.

School continues to be satisfying - but I am still confused as hell as to how exactly all these assignments need to be turned in. Code scripts are empty tableaux that offer an infinite variety of solutions to problems, yet I always feel that maximum points are contingent upon finding the "right" path through it. Not so good for the artistic sentiment. This is why it is helpful to have very clear instructions that inform the student exactly what needs to be in the program and also considers what the student need not bother including. This latter is lacking; and I also need to calm the fuck down and just do my best.

I am contemplating taking a second class online; more on this as it progresses. In fact, I may already have fully committed to it. And it might be way over my head. Oh well.

The nervousness today was punctuation by periods of heavy exhaustion. I am learning to simply work through them: the fact that I feel sleepy is no excuse to waste time. If I am tired, the best thing is for me to lie down and nap. No harm in that. I can't keep slipping into not-working-not-resting limbo. But this is the problem of my generation...

And I must remember that the third option, between working and resting, is playing. Inserting more moments of play - such as with the squeezebox today - is another thing to remember.

And so I leave for the night. No big revelations tonight, just a soft settling down in what has been laid out the past few days.

Dream well, all.

Don't Answer

My heater salutes with knocking sounds,
I click the x on the browser window.
How many sounds did my breath make?

Even the music has to go, sometimes...

Soaking in a little silence. Of course the music has to go. Music over the waves, out the speakers, is not the same music we listen to when it's performed live. We don't need electronic music all the time. It's a luxury and an addiction just like everything else. Live music is magic. (This is also another reason why copyright laws are missing the point.)

It was a good day, in that all my days are pretty good - but it was low and full of some bleak periods. As long as my bleak periods are contained within a single day, surrounded by and commented on by bright periods - it's a good chapter in my life.

The bleakness pertains to feeling behind in all my projects, still unsure about who I am and what I want to do. Par for the course.

Mundane lessons today. I thought a bit about prioritizing when planning what to do with my time. For a while, prioritizing has felt a little overwhelming - something I know I should do but have not done very well. I tend to just "go with" certain tasks without really thinking about how important they are. That's not entirely true: sometimes I intentionally do less important stuff, because the more important stuff is collecting anxiety. So, today, I asked myself: what do I really, truly 100% need to get done by the time I go to bed - for real? And I gave myself a pretty decent answer.

Yeah, so, a pretty boring lesson, but helpful.

My heart feels wide open - I am making lots of social connections - the party last night was wonderful, I got to see some old friends (quite unexpectedly in one case) and some new; I learned about everyone a little bit more. I still am aching on the inside from declining that job yesterday - I still don't know why I feel so awful about it. This might take some journaling / depth work. My guess, right off the bat, is that my interviewer and I developed a nice little rapport, and I feel like I really let her down. Would the feeling be pity, then? Guilt? Simple sadness at the loss of a connection?

Connections with people are not things we normally expect to lose so suddenly. They are pretty rocky, by default. It normally involves a death or a break-up of some kind. Certainly, this feels like a break up. Or to be more accurate: it feels like I went out on 2 dates with a girl, and I am a little bit intrigued, but I am mostly sure it's not going to work out.  I can tell she's really excited about me, and she calls me after the second date to tell me she's in love with me, so I'm forced to tell her I'm not interested in pursuing things further more harshly than I would have liked, so as to not lead her on. Why is that so hard?

Anyway, there is a bit more to work through here, with this feeling. I find it reaching me at odd moments, and I even make a little sound: "oof."

Of course, it feels good to feel. Vulnerability is always exquisite. I like how it shapes my actions.

Before I go: I forgot to mention that a few days ago I had a flying dream! It just kind of slipped in, unannounced. I can't remember having had a flying dream in over a decade. I think this bodes good things.

Dream well, all.

Not so much anybody as the feeling of anybody

Smoke clings with weak hands to my clothes,
There is little space between my thoughts of you
And you, in the dirt, leg on the rocks, warmed by fire.

Too Late and Too Many Things

Today's theme was spontaneity. Which is great, considering how unspontaneous I have convinced myself I am. It was one whirlwind thing after another: an unplanned couchsurfer, a pagan ceremony, playing violin, catching up with old friends, drinking not too heavily but not too lightly either. An evening I would like to have again sometime.

There was a rich dark side tonight, of course. I don't feel I have fully processed it yet. It is something full of emotion I don't entirely understand, around the act of saying no. I'll no doubt be revisiting this feeling - about rejecting a job offer that was made to me.

But for now, a good evening, if a little bit late. I need to get right to bed tonight; hopefully having a full, productive tomorrow (I have a fair amount of neglected homework to get back to).

Dream well, all.

Can you tell the season?

Lamplight yellows the cold walls,
The sound of my own breath climbs to the ceiling,
If only I could transcribe what the evening says.

More on Fear

My internets are down again tonight; probably will be posting this in the morning.

New thoughts and experiences on the career horizon. I sat in for another interivew at the place I interviewed yesterday. It was pretty mundane; actually much less interesting than the interview yesterday, but it was with a higher up. I thought it would be with the boss herself, but apparently no. Nothing bad or stressful or really remarkable about it - beyond the fact that I was noticeably less animated, not wanting to make as much of an impression as yesterday. I would call this subconscious withdrawal of my energy due to my underlying ambivalence about the position, but it is much more conscious than that.

There is still a little more to think about. Or - shall I say - there is only a little bit about the larger moral issue that I possibly can think about in the next day or so before I have to make a decision.

I like how all of this brings my understanding of stress, addiction, obsession and distraction into focus. I distract myself when I am avoiding something that causes me stress. There is very little doubt about that now. I want to set down clearly that a large part - if not most - of these stressful things I want to avoid have to do with talking to people. Once I do it, I'm fine. But beforehand, it requires much gathering of willpower.

And I think I know why - I never feel like I will know what to say. It's not so much fear of the other person as it is fear of me losing myself in front of the other person, not knowing what to do, panicking. I am anxious about the fear I feel; what can happen to me externally is nothing. This is Rollo May's definition of anxiety, by the way: the fear of fear. Perhaps I'm finally getting what he wrote? That happiness is not the elimination of the things that we fear but a peace with the fear itself?

That sounds about right. I should photoshop that phrase over a photo of Harry Houdini or somebody like that, attribute it to him and post it on Facebook.

As a final note, I am still thinking about what it might mean to be a producer. Maybe I need a better phrase, but that's what sticking in my mind. I haven't "gotten there" yet. Though I am priming for it; inching closer; pacing around the idea and waiting for the right moment to pounce. The prey will come into my circle soon enough...

Dream well, all.

7-10-5 and who cares about meter

The rattling cry of the cranes
Asks the river if it's time to come home.
The river flows south.

The Grandness

It struck me today. It's not about the stress. Stress is good. The world is an endless pressure cooker (was it Buddha who said that?), and our job is not to escape (because there is no escape) but to become delicious.

It's trying to avoid the stress that makes us feel shitty.

Seems like a tissue-box, daily calendar type of insight, but it feels huge to me today. Face the stress. The stress is good. The stress is your engagement; the discomfort is awesome. Love it; live it. Don't leave it.

This certainly turns my world around. Comfort has largely been my goal. I'm so happy today that I have such things to get excited about, to make me grow. They also help me take pause. I had a great time at the river. I felt alive and connected to things. I felt that brushing my teeth just now. The richness of simply pausing and being aware of the objects around me and the way my feelings wrap confused tendrils around everything. It's stupid and funny and beautiful, how endlessly vulnerable I am.

 I owe at least part of this to my early morning ice showers - inspired by Julien Smith. Really, this seems to be the symbol that finally works for me. It's a kind of ritual, a kind of life hack that brings into focus my relationship with comfort, disrupts it and wakes me up. And it's directly, unavoidably physical. I think that's probably most of it. I cannot be in my head. And I was getting to think I was terminally in my head.

It's more effective at doing the things I expect from zazen (but which zazen actually isn't about) than zazen is. I think that's great. It takes an unnecessary burden off my meditation practice that way.

So I get about a minute of being exceptionally awake every morning. I can count on that.

Where from here?

I still want to expunge the sponge in me; to be more of a producer, a proprietor, a sharer and a giver. These things are important. Being spiritually pure and abstractly excellent are not.

The awakening and electricity of the early morning ice-cold shower are meaningless without the nakedness, the opening, the closeness. Those two things go together: the jolt and the open heart. One cannot exist without the other.

I accept this adventure.

Dream well, all.

Certain Success

I did a good job of feeling stress this afternoon. I feel terminally behind in my C++ studies, and I have not quite caught up with Python - I am considerably behind.

We had a test in C++ today - I think I did okay, but I don't let myself rest on that. Always wondering "Did I miss something? Is that really the right answer?" I need to do better in self-confidence.

I am slowly catching up with what I believe to be a good place with my homework; granted that my standard is probably too high, I can manage this just fine if I continue at my current pace. I know for a fact now that it's not a bad pace - the only reason I was rushing was because I wasn't sure how much I needed to study for the test - but it's over, I did very well if not perfect, and I can move on.

I am feeling stress about a job interview tomorrow; I feel stress about getting my tax refund. There are more. There is plenty. I don't want to dwell on everything.

I need to remember that there is no end - there is no proper finish to the stress-reel. It goes on forever, and I can choose to listen to it or I can turn it off. But there is no feedback in the loop itself that will turn itself off, no final crashing chord or denouement. If I let it, it will master me.

I want to wake up in the morning and find my life open like the ocean viewed from the shore. Powerful and full of forces and tides that can pull me in any direction, yet separate and restful in its own space. I want to have one boat - that is my work, my activity - that I take out into the sea and use to return to land.

As I write this, I don't know how to implement the fundamental idea, the kind of restful work that takes me out and brings me back. I can only imagine a gray sky, the sound of waves, the smell of salt and sand. In fact, I am also hearing Sting's song - Island of Souls - play in my head. I don't care about the song so much as the feeling of sadness and treading on immeasurable depth I feel when listening to it (though it is a good song on a brilliant, overlooked album). I am filled with that feeling. Not that all I want is sadness, but sadness is a feeling I use more than others to fish out my feeling-self.

That is what I want to be important in my day. Not the insect-like push to Get Things Done accompanied by the anxiety that I Am Not Getting Everything Done.

Dream well, all.

Some Day

Not a bad one, not a great one. I woke up extremely tired; opted for more sleep rather than more work. I went through my morning tasks all at once and then went straight to applying for jobs - rolled out three applications in only an hour. I decided to do my taxes, but infuriating ambiguities led my obsessive self to drive all the way to Tax Help NM so I could talk to a human - only to find it completely full and closed to new clients for the day. I managed to find some help, however, and got the answers I needed.

I took a quick nap, then did some work outside. There was not much to really do, so I went back in and did one more financial chore.  Then I exercised a little, did a little homework, went for a walk, had dinner and vegged a bit. I managed to squeeze in about 10 minutes of Python time, while listening to Poe's 1995 album Hello - something I got into back in middle school.

I am still listening to it, remembering the hope I had in myself at age 14 and how I am now. Everything that has proven to be sabotage was alive and well in me at the time - I can't claim that it was a purely better time or age.

But it sounds good. She's nostalgic for me and gives me a good sense of continuity, of having been different from what I am now and yet still alive. It's touching, too. It's a very sad album - but then, I've always loved sad music the best.

I feel quite hopeful, in fact. I feel like I have a strong grip on what at least the next steps are.

The full moon has a subtle effect on the light in my room; it is a splattering of bright sparks in the glass block windows behind my desk. I turned off my lamp, and now I can see it better; it has a stronger effect on the room.

Dream well, all.

Found Weekend

(I am writing this in a text document, as the internet seems to be unavailable again.)

I am back from my extended visit to Santa Fe. Somehow, heading out, it felt like a mission, a task, a plan. While there, I realized it was a sort of vacation. Not a bad change of mind, there.

It was frustrating to have run out of time in which to visit people, but good to know I have so many good friends in Santa Fe that I cannot visit all of them in 48 hours.

Conversation was good all around. I feel uplifted by the whole experience. I often wonder if I'm not living fully - I felt very full the past few hours.

Back in Albuquerque now, I am very tired today. (I might actually have caught a cold). It's a good tired.

I have of course gained some perspective on things. I am thinking intently on the conversation I had with one friend at the Lucky Bean Cafe - it lasted around 3 hours and could have gone on longer. We touched some very deep issues, as we always do. We talked about the difficulty in being male. It helps to be reminded that being male is something you need to practice at. I think that is because of and not in spite of the fact that we are all, at heart, just people, not male or female or what have you.

But whatever sexual persona you are born with, you are then tasked with responsibilities that others don't have; and you must face them if you want to be fully human.

I realize I don't face my male challenges very well.

The friend, who I'll continue to keep anonymous, says that in an ideal lifetime, a boy is eroticized by the fierce love of his mother and goes out into the world, brimming with the confidence that everything he choses to do is utterly important. At some point he is kidnapped by his father or a father figure and the boy in him is ritually removed from his mother - which is death - and then he is remade a man.

I don't think my Bar Mitzvah was an adequate transition to manhood.

What can I do to address this situation?

I can't go back in time and become a more fiercely-eroticized boy. I do notice the lonely, unsatisfied boy inside me, obsessed with large breasts and wanting to be mothered like so many males in my country, in my generation. Notice is too weak a word for a constant awareness of something I have never quite found a place for. The image of the strong, overpowering mother haunts me and fractures my attempts to have a healthy relationship.

What can I do for this boy? Is there something I need at this stage, or do I just need to get rid of it and move on?

Meanwhile, I am learning to endure pain, to be a fighter. I am taking my small steps, but I am moving somewhere, and I feel I'm just on the cusp of being somewhere new. Early waking, cold showers, 5k runs, push-ups, lack of television - all these things are preparing the way, but only preparing the way.

I need to be more active: more of a volunteer and less of an applicant. I am now, for the first time, truly questioning and trying to understand my need for comfort throughout the day, rather than just accepting it or denying it. I am toying with teh notion of looking at life as a constant pressure cooker and learning that there is no point that is not moving, boiling and at no point am I not responsible to observe and respond. This is a tough one, and it is just as much a part of my Zen training as it is a life design issue.

So that will need to be all of it tonight; I'm going to bed super early (though I will have awoken already by the time I write this) to wake up super early (4:00) and get tons of shit done before the afternoon, when I might be getting back to work on a dugout greenhouse.

Dream well, all. I hope we all wake up wanting more.

Something, at least, is converging

Setting aside the idea of synchronistic convergence of an abstract theme on objects outside of me, this symbol that is important to me begins to take shape where it's important: inside.

The gauge is swinging wildly in both directions - I am feeling periods of far greater focus than has been normal lately; balanced by periods of far less focus than is normal. Or perhaps "less focus" is a red herring. Maybe what's important is that these periods are marked with anger and fear - positive things that need understanding and taming - not a lack of some kind of substance that I need.

I had a good morning; did a little work on the property, but this was cut short due to Victoria needing time for herself. I decided to focus on finances: I had hoped to do my taxes and finish an errand at the bank. To make a long story short, the errand caused me to drive to a branch where the required expert was not present. I felt extremely frustrated when I got home, melted my brain electronically and went to sleep. When I got a phone call I was waiting for, I angrily rejected it and distracted myself more, listening to the message two hours later. Suddenly in "work mode," I began working on my taxes - hoping to finish them but then, sadly, after almost two more hours, realizing that I'd have to finish on Monday. Also frustrating.

But now it was time to go running. No time to mope. I did 42 minutes along the Rio Grande, by the botanical gardens. On the way home, I realized how absurd it is that I feel like I got "nothing" done today, when I could add up 6.5 hours of time very well spent. Does it have to be perfect? Well, I feel like I can do better, so I need to keep shooting for that. But all the despair and self-judgment is really tripping me up. I could at least balance it out with some acknowledgment of what I get done.

I came home to a shower, dinner and reading some eBooks I recently added to my kindle cloud reader. Did the dishes, made some tea, did 30 minutes of Python (which consisted almost entirely of historical research), now I am here, ready for Asimov and bed. I will wake up early, as I have for months, and take an ice-cold shower, like I have for the past 3 days and hope to continue.

I'll be in Santa Fe for the next few days, for what was originally supposed to be an afternoon meeting but has turned into a whirlwind visit with all of my friends, all at once. It'll be interesting.

Relationships are becoming important to me in a more conscious way than before. I am really eager bring myself out more when I'm with people.

I already have committed on Facebook to hugging people more. I am terrified to death of initiating hugs; I want to get over this. Shit, it will take a lot of work. I'm going to remember this when I take my cold shower tomorrow morning: if I can bathe in freezing water, naked at 4:45 in the morning, of course I can hug people. Somehow, this connection makes sense to me.

I am left, at the end of the day, with the thought that I want to be a producer, an initiator. This thought floats around like all the other goals and fantasies, but now it seems far more urgent. This will become part of my focus in the weeks and months to come. Where I spend time giving out more than taking in. Again, a big change that will take a lot of work. I would be turning myself entirely around.

But now, rest.

Dream well, all.

Convergence?

A late night (relatively), and I've got to hit the hay. I'm going to need to be careful these next 3 days or so, as I'm finally going to be very busy, and I will need to be cautious of how I spend my precious time alone.

I hope I can come up with something good.

I've noticed a convergence of themes - all signs point to the fact that I am noticing this convergence, because I am focused on the theme: fear and fear responses and how they affect my life and how to work through them.

Yep, I'm noticing still more - how time after time I'm avoiding something frightening, again and again, all day long. It's never-ending. I had an okay day; got some good work done on the ol' farming community-type place; but I didn't really feel "in sorts", and I was very piddly with my Python work. Oh well. Tomorrow arrives again soon. I'm hoping my extended trip this weekend will give me some good perspective - figure out what it is I want to do (granted, a few posts back, I decided what I am doing now is not that and also that I am free to change that.)

Dream well.

Slalom

I've never been much of a skier. The one time I skied as an adult, I really liked it. I felt out of my element; I'm never very comfortable with fast, slippery type conveyances (cf. any kind of skating).

But I got over this discomfort and enjoy it. Being motivated to go out and do it is another thing altogether.

I mention this, because, tonight, for some reason, I would feel really comfortable skiing. I feel really comfortable with myself right now. I feel an easy, pleasant fit with the evening, with what I have done, with what I will do in the morning. Strange, considering how overwhelmed and unhappy I felt in the morning. I slept in a good hour and dashed a few sections of my morning routine. I did a tiny bit of Python work, but I was mostly distracted. And not just distracted - agonizing over it. Asking myself over and over again: what am I afraid of? Why am I avoiding doing these things which I enjoy, and these things that maybe I do not enjoy but know are necessary? What am I after? What will it take to change? Do I need to change? ... And not getting anywhere.

After focusing enough to do a few chores at home, I went shopping. I felt no need to stick to my diet, and I bought cheese, bread and a lavender cupcake - the last one I ate straightaway.

When I got home, I was still distracted and continued to waste time. I ended up taking a decent nap. Upon waking I was still looking for that mental fix. Then something happened. I simply stopped whatever I was doing (Social Networking or whathaveyou) and began working on my Python project. There was no flourish, no concerted gathering of willpower. I just did. It was perfectly normal; nothing special about it. What's strange about it is: I don't remember deciding to do so. I just did. And I was absorbed with this - perfectly and productively - for a good two hours. I had to get myself to stop. Though having to force myself to stop is nothing out of the ordinary when I'm coding.

I then went outside for a good run. When I came back, I was hungry. I had 1.5 peanut butter sandwiches and a cheese and lettuce sandwich right away. While eating, I read articles on the internet, but I was certainly not sucked in. I then took a shower and went to class.

Here, again, I felt freer: no anxiety, no worry, no impatience. I was just happy to be there, listening to the instructor, taking notes and doing the work. I finished my homework assignment during the work period, and it felt lighter, for some reason. No push to get it perfect.

I am home now; I have spent a little time drawing (something new to the mix that I'm trying out), a little time surfing, a tiny bit of time reviewing CSS, and now I'm writing this, and it all seems to fit together for once.

Is this an imbalanced upswing? Is this a very fast fruit of deciding, yesterday, to not be controlled by fear? If so, I don't feel like I've done all the work necessary, so I am a tiny bit suspect. On the other hand, I feel ready to roll with whatever comes up tomorrow, whether I sleep in, abandon all work and responsibility, have a panic attack - whatever.

Another factor might be my final acclimation to a "crisis" of financial insecurity - perhaps that little bit of fear is diminishing its control over me. Of course, I still have lots of work to do there, but, as I was thinking yesterday, if I let fear make my decisions, I risk setting myself up for failure. Better to be in today's more grounded place.

With that, I ease back into bed. It feels a little early, but then again, I'll be waking up dark and early. Feeling good in the morning is a miracle I can't even fathom becoming a regular reality for me, but if I feel in the morning as I do right now, I might start the day with a nice cold shower, zazen and then immediately to a hearty breakfast. It wouldn't be a bad start.

Dream well, all.