To Limits and Back

bipolar-masksThe highs are intoxicating, the lows exhaustively abysmal, and almost always consuming like fire. Sooner or later you ask the questions, where am I? Who am I? How did I get here…alone? Shall I return?

A song and toast to the eccentric…

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I had this thing to call my own…
Just one slip and it was gone…

A minor flaw and then it fell,
I brought this house down on myself…

I didn’t know just what I’d done…
I didn’t know just what I’d done…

I don’t remember anymore
what I used to be…
Where is the quiet piece of home where I could breathe?

Just like a razor to my soul
When I’m alone…
Oh, I had this thing to call my own…

I’m so confused, I cannot see…
This wave of guilt is drowning me

It feels like blood is on my hands…
I’d give it all for a second chance…

I still don’t know just what I’ve done…
I still don’t know just what I’ve done…

I don’t remember anymore what I used to be…
There was a fire burning strong inside of me…

Just like the soothing loving warmth of summer sun…

Oh, I had this thing to call my own…
I had this thing to call my own…
I had this thing to call my own…

I’ve never meant to let you go…
I’ve never meant to let you go…
To let you go…
To let you go…

They are very human. They feel intensely. Rarely anything they do or say is average. You can envy them and despise them in the same breath, same motion. Here one moment, gone the next…and you laugh or cry, sometimes neither; blank. Alive, dead. Those few precious moments of in-between normality you cherish, forever. For the drifting listless and unmoved, they are very hard to let go and hopelessly easy to grasp with open arms. Go. Don’t go.

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They are so tragically joyously human. They are, or a version of, manic/bipolar behavior disorder (hypomania?). In many ways we need them for either cardiac arrest…or cardiac resuscitation. The last reaction one should have to this behavior or disorder is eviction as if they’re lepers. Understand first the neurology, then you can better manage the situations with them, being positive instead of inflaming.

Personally I need them, I welcome them, the heart-monitors of palpitations, the respirators of inhale exhale! But…if there are warning labels, I usually miss them on many occasion. My advice?

Consult a physician and psychiatrist for recommended dosages, or risk missing or getting the vivid ride of a lifetime on and off the ordinary grid! Mind-blowing thrills and shrills guaranteed — bumps and bruises non-negotiable — but either way you will find out if you’re alive or taking up space.

**Music:  I Had This Thing, by Röyksopp

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Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

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You’re Right

The state of meditation is a powerful vessel.  A connected state-of-mind and body to dimensional existence is about as meaningful a life as a person can reach; an altered or altering consciousness.  But a person cannot reach that point solo.  We also need the right surroundings.
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image Vladstudio

image Vladstudio

Growing up I loved playing my drum-set.  In our downstairs playroom I had my 15-piece drum kit setup along with our band’s Peavey amps.  Plugged-in to those Peavey amps was my stereo.  Through my stereo I played the songs from epic rock-metal bands with more epic – so I thought – drummers.  And within moments of beating the skins, high-hat, bass drum, and cymbals…I was there.  Much of the sessions I would reach a heart-rate and drive that I could barely hold my sticks from the perspiration.  I eventually had to place a fan on top of my bass drum to help cool my frenzied journey.  I would reach such a vibrational rhythmic state of meditation that I can only describe as fluid between here and there.  My sense of place and time, aside from the rhythm and beat, was lost; oblivious to anything in the house or outside it.  It was there that my expression, my place in the moment and in the world, was most creative and most lucid.  It was – and to this day as well – my way of belonging.

The years from 1990 to 1995 were the most devastating and most life-changing years of my life.  Here’s a summary:  My father committed suicide, my girlfriend-turned-fiancé abandoned me and our 2-year relationship without a single verbalized explanation, I was arrested by law-enforcement, I walked out of my wonderful psych-hospital job-career and out of my half-completed master’s program at my seminary, my daughter was born, a 5-month marriage ended, and I moved back to my hometown.  Often during those years I sought the solace in the one place I knew I could find it.  One song I’d play over and over and over, and behind my drums I’d play along…let go of my nagging thoughts and find my place of belonging.  It was the only song, music, and lyrics that would make sense to me where I could find my father and my daughter, both of whom were no longer with me.

 

I have since learned that finding the place of belonging is sometimes very difficult, even tragic.  But having survived it all, I have discovered just how powerful the state-of-belonging and connecting can impact not just a life, my life, but life around us.  This is how I’ve equated it in my mind.  As the lyrics of the song go…

If you open your mind [and soul]…You won’t rely on open eyes to see

My painful and beautiful journey would not have been possible if I had not had three critical travel-items:  my parents and extended family, a creative growth-model of education taught by my father supported by my mother, and then finally love.  These three integral parts must continue with us into adulthood.  They must evolve and grow in order to best manage in life the inevitable change and unexpected plot-twists!

If you have those three flexing growing components in your life – each illustrated mathematically by dividing 100 into 3 parts – the number cannot be emptied but goes on and on ad infinitum.  For me, Fibonacci’s Sequence, or Golden Ratiowould be the counter-part, if you comprehend my wackiness.

The three parts each need more than just the mind or cerebral cortex.  They need feelings.  They need the freedom of fluid creative passion!  Nature and the Universe (Multiverse) already create then modify, refine, then create more and so on like the Golden Ratio.  Human DNA, generation to generation, does the same thing.  As highly intelligent feeling beings, we have the passions to ignite life.  If fortunate enough to have loving, nurturing yet non-oppressive parents and family, then we are given the early tools to ignite a significant belonging life…not just for ourselves, but equipped to provide a general blueprint for others too!

If this parental-family environment is taught throughout the primary and secondary schooling – in other words explained via the table below – empowering the child and adolescent, then the state of belonging can be perpetuated outside of self.

Learning Method table

Assuming you are allowed how to think rather than told what to think, then a once very successful American icon spoke these words of enormous spiritual-cerebral wisdom to take on your journey:

“Whether you think you can or you think you cannot – you’re right.” – Henry Ford

If a young mind and heart are constantly denied the means to freely express, create, and recreate, learn and relearn for an eventual greater good, passing on a new fluid blueprint, then it would seem ironically, one becomes entrapped in the past.  That is most unnatural.  Ford recognized the power of self-actualization learned through and from our environment.  In other words, there is a connection between us and everything around us.  But there is more Henry – another force that is just as fluid.

Ford’s imparted partial-truth cannot be fully owned without the sticky fuel of feelings and love-ingredients to energize it.  There are some things that can’t be taught.  They must be realized.  Though it had a compass rose, I was given my blank map.  The natural aether in the lucid state of vibrant rhythmic meditation is an individual journey…for me discovered during my youth, rediscovered in my darkest hours, and now openly shared in wisdom and passion.  It is my primal home away from “home,” where I truly belong.

I swim in it regularly.

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Live Well  *  Love Much  *  Laugh Often  *  Learn Always

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A Bigger Shovel

Limited Liability Clause:  The names in this post have been changed to protect my body, my blog, and my personal property.  Thus…

The limit of liability of this blog-author to the hyper-sensitive reader for any cause or combination of causes of mental and/or emotional duress shall be, in the total amount, limited to the fees paid under this post or $3.00 USD, whichever is greater or more fun.

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specimen-containerBenton courteously poured my second glass of Shiraz-Cab vintage 2012 as his wife Vidal asked me again puzzled, What do you mean they required a specimen?  A peculiar silence filled the room.  Even the perky ears of their toy Cairn-Manchester-mix terrier snapped to attention waiting on my answer.

Professor:  Well, it was a matter of life and death, at the very least, image.

Vidal:  What did you do?

Professor:  I looked right into the tech’s eyes and with polite confidence said, You’re going to need a bigger container.  She placed her hand below her neck and with bigger eyes whispered faintly “Oh my!”

It isn’t every day that someone stumbles upon crude unrecognizable tools in the heart of Sasquatch country.  The primatologist needed more proof.  Can you blame him?  How big do you think they are?  What would you need?

This leads me to another moral-of-the-story…story.

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A mutual friend of Benton, Vidal, Delilah, and me, who was back in town visiting after moving back home to Kansas (no not Dorothy) is an adventurous curious lady I will call Ahmouray.  We had gotten together for wine, snacks, and folly just for her and to hear the latest in her life.  As it turns out the “latest” was a gentleman that restored old tractors and she had to immediately show us an iPhone picture of he and she next to his latest John Deere.  Embracing each other with huge happy smiles, this tractor’s engine and wheels reached above their shoulders; massive!  Ahmouray was obviously bubbly with excitement.  You had to agree, Mr. John Deere had a big…

tractor.

Benton:  How long have you known him?

Ahmouray:  Two months.  He is really sweet to me.  It feels really right.

[Vidal is sulking trying to keep her lips tight]

JohnDeere_tractorBenton:  Remember what happened to Mr. Wright #IV? – Referring to the last pathological liar with Alzheimer and a former police officer and priest.  Yes, a priest and they met on Match.com.  She married him after 6-months of dating and 1-month after moving in together.

Professor:  Does he work on you as well as he works on his John Deere’s?  I’d hate for you to fall into another disaster.

Vidal:  [pops-off] …Or will he be another Dear John?

Ahmouray:  I understand what you all are saying, but I am 62-years old.  I don’t have an eternity!

Professor:  It is okay to be alone sometimes.  There is no set deadline for true companionship!  Quality takes time unless you are a gifted psychic.  Besides, you will have other man-husbands in your next lives too so don’t stress about how “little time you have to live!”  Enjoy the freedom you have right now!

Ahmouray:  I don’t believe God made me to be alone.  I know Professor you and I differ on the meaning of this life, death, and God, but I am most happy as a well-cared for wife.

Delilah:  Not any or every man who comes along with shining-armor, a smooth tongue, muscular body, and beautiful hair and tractors will be Mr. Wright #V!

Professor:  And many Mr. Wright #IV – IX who are “priests” are on the internet!  They call them virtual predators when they’re not in church!  [looking toward Benton] Or does it matter where they are?

Ahmouray:  I don’t have forever to look!

Professor:  Hmm, especially if you have only a garden spade.  [grin]

Vidal:  [directed at Professor] What is the preferred size?

Benton:  Doesn’t it depend on the amount of dirt or how pretty you want your…garden?

Professor:  Exactly!  Some need only a garden spade, others require front-loaders with dump trucks.  I guess it depends on what you’re constructing.  How deep the foundation should be depends on how long it will last, how much it will withstand, or what you’re digging up, huh?

Ahmouray:  We have so much fun together!  We talked over three hours on the phone last night.  He is so nice to me.  He has a Dachshund!  [with a much peppier voice] Do you realize what that means!?

Dachshunds are Ahmouray’s favorite dogs.  Her previous Mr. Wright #IV was also (as it turned out) a dog-lover on his internet profile, but in reality never owned a dog in his life.  He never liked Ahmouray’s two dogs either.

Professor:  Are you going to tell me next the dog’s name is Toto?

Ahmouray:  No.  Its name is Lady.

Professor:  As in Gaga?

Ahmouray:  No silly, as in Kenny Rogers!

At that point I believe the rest of us simultaneously downed our wine in two gulps.  I asked Benton where the bottle was…he quickly got out of his recliner and said “I’ll get it and open another.”  Expressing my “deep” appreciation I also asked our host and hostess, “Do you two prefer a spade or shovel?”

Vidal:  If we are at an AA-NA meeting (her daughters are both addicts) spades are usually appropriate because of the group monitor/leader. [Benton agreed then added…]

Benton:  But with this group shovels must be handy!

Professor:  And at church?

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Live Laugh Love

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When Good Principles Are Bad

In April 2011 I wrote about how exclusiveness kills healthy friendships in the name of monogamy:  The Curious Perplexity of Attachment.  Curious how history repeats itself.  This past weekend a very dear female college friend and I talked on the phone, updating each other on the past year since we spoke last.  Allow me to give some background.

Both of us make each other laugh a lot, always have.  During our rough times — each going through very difficult divorces — we were there for each other speaking brutally honest about anything, often saying things that the listener didn’t want to hear.  Over the past five to seven years of our close friendship, we had always confessed “what if”…how greater the closeness could be if we were dating.  Fun natural flirting came easy between us.  But the 400+ miles and each of our separate families and kids kept us apart.  The last time I had spoken with her she was madly in love with a new man.  Fast forward to this weekend.  Now that man was way out, even psychotic in her words, and now she has a new “keeper”.

What is so important or different about all this you ask?  It is this:  when I spoke honestly with her and flirted like we have always done over our 29-year friendship, strangely she did not respond.  In fact, it seemed awkwardly BLAND.  I thought to myself something is weird, out of balance, or something.  When is she going to explain this?

If you have read my April 2011 blog The Curious Perplexity of Attachment, then you will know that the women to whom I was referring are past girlfriends, i.e. intimate relationships over multiple consecutive months.  This good college friend of 29 years has always been a platonic friendship; never any sexual moments, not even any temptations except over the phone, long distance when her divorce had been filed by her husband.  She was in a lot of disillusioned pain, struggling with 17 years of a dying marriage which sadly involved their four children.  Her soon-to-be ex-husband was intentionally pitting the children against her.  Innocent bystanders of a man’s anger.

There are several significant factors involved in the demise of her marriage but suffice to say for this article, infidelity was the root cause of the divorce.  However, getting engrossed in the ugly mismanaged details of their marriage and divorce is not the purpose of my article today.  Honestly, what happened between my dear friend and her husband or its complexities is ultimately none of my business or anyone else’s business.  What is my business is how her “new” relationship with Mr. Keeper has now affected our 29-year friendship.

After our phone conversation my dear friend explained why she was not being her old, or usual self with me and our fun flirting.  “As much as I love you” she explained, “…I feel loyal to [Mr. Keeper].  I never want to EVER cross the line again.  You were playing like we always do (which made me smile), but I want to honor him and not flirt with anyone.”  I must be honest, I was bothered by this explanation.

She and I have always, always been ourselves with each other.  We have always been very comfortable in sharing all of our unedited, undiluted thoughts and feelings with each other.  We could do so because we passed no judgement whatsoever on each other.  Our 29-year close friendship is genuinely a wonderful healthy friendship.  Why on earth should that ever change?  An easy question to answer, right?  No, it seems I am incorrect…again.  Why?

When are good principles bad?  What do monogamous boundaries really protect?  When does a 2-month dating relationship have any more value than a 29-year platonic friendship?  I am honestly not a wild-cannon that fires off randomly around new spouses or boyfriends with no impulse control.  On the contrary, I am quite respectful of other’s relationships or marriages.  I really struggle with this ‘pinch-off’ decision from my female friends when a new lover comes around for them!  I hope one of my good female married and polyamorous friends (O.M. Grey) comments on this topic.  From a woman’s perspective, she is a wealth of wisdom and experience on this subject.

I would very much like to hear anyone’s thoughts and comments about this because it happens way too often.  Please tell me what your thoughts are.

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The Curious Perplexity of Attachment

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate;
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

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∼ ∼ ∼ ∼ ∼ ∼ ∼ ∼
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I was contacted over the last several months by a few old, intimate friends, some of which were ex-girlfriends.  I considered these now defunct dating relationships (and still do) to be quite significant to my life whether past or present.  Now they have disappeared into that mysterious lost world of attachment, again.  If history holds true, I should not hear from them again for another ten or twelve months or more, or perhaps never again.  Why is that?

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I suppose the freedom and pursuit of happiness and meaningful experience in all of our human interactions is in these cases just too risky an endeavor within the subtle framework of traditional attachment.  These situations sadden me to be honest because it was they who missed me and contacted me after so long.  I find this curious and perplexing… and so I write.

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I did not graduate from elementary and junior high school by passing one subject.  I did not graduate from high school or college by passing one subject.  As obvious as those implications might seem, why did we all take so many various subjects throughout our educations?  What did it benefit us?  Why was it required to pass many subjects?  Could we not have functioned or succeeded in life just as well with only one single subject of study?  Of course not, so why should our relationships/friendships be any different?

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Allow me to put this analogy in another perspective.  How about your teachers or your classmates?  Would it be considered well and fine if they forbid you to study any other subject but their own?  Or what about the not so ancient business of human slavery?  Isn’t it fine and well to own slaves to benefit the personal well-being of the owner?  Of course not, so why should our relationships/friendships be any different?

Yet, too often I discover this curious, perplexing attachment in relationships today.  One subject and one subject only… and it seems to be either chosen or enforced, verbally or non-verbally, in action or by passiveness.  Very reminiscent of ages and civilizations gone when proprietary rights ruled in all aspects of life and home.

Edgar Cayce believed, as I believe, that soul mates (i.e. persons in our life that through interaction we become acutely aware of our shortcomings and our abilities) were to be embraced…forever.

Soul mates (not one but many) are individuals that are not our full compliment or other half that makes us complete, but rather in being with those individuals we are provided with an impetus to become whole ourselves AND to offer the same to them.”

Fullfillment, happiness, problems or obstacles are all presented in the relationships/friendships for a purpose:

they are infinite opportunities of invaluable assistance to mature mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  Soul mates are not to be feared by a partner, but on the contrary should be encouraged by both to grow as they may.”

How well do you live freely?  How well do you love freely?  How deeply and how freely are YOU loved…and how freely is it given?

“…When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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