Mystic Writer

A momentary hope

2009-03-13T13:06:00.000-07:00

When first I started this blog, I was finding to my surprise that I was falling in love with the woman I've been calling TB in this blog. I was married at the time, albeit with little satisfaction, so falling in love wasn't a convenient thing to do. I fought it for a while, denying my feelings, then tried to convince myself it was a simple infatuation, something to compensate for the dreariness of my marriage.

I kept my feelings to myself, not sharing them with TB or anyone else I knew (though, of course, posting them on this blog, which has so far remained anonymous). Over time, TB and I became good friends, which I find surprising looking back as I know how much I wanted to be with her, and it's hard for me to imagine that somehow a friendship could survive that desire, much less thrive. Yet thrive it did.

I started to realize something else as time passed - how I felt about TB wasn't the sort of needy kind of love I had felt in previous relationships. It wasn't the sort of feeling of swoopy joy when a new found love validates ones ego, or the sense of pursuit and capture. The feeling was far more sublime, as if my connection with TB made the whole world larger, as if I could suddenly see further, laugh more truly, simply appreciate everything more deeply. No one else had ever made me feel that way. To me, it was a gift beyond anything I had ever imagined. It's a gift I carry to this day, and something I am still profoundly grateful for.

TB moved away about two years ago, and I didn't see her again till this fall. Our communication during the two years had slowly fallen off, and so I wasn't sure how welcome I would be when I impulsively visited her on a trip to the four corners region of the USA. Our friendship hadn't lost anything in our time apart, and even more surprisingly, the feeling of joyous expansion was present, and overwhelming. When I left her in the late evening, I was wondering if I should say something about the feeling, but then the reality of fatherhood and having to stay in Minnesota reasserted itself, and I left with a simple goodbye and happy smile.

Over the next two months we exchanged letters and phone calls, and I re-established my equilibrium, and then I found out she was dating someone new. She stopped writing, and I convinced myself it was OK - in truth, I was happy for her.

Four weeks ago I received a little note from TB, nothing exceptional, and as I had a lot going on and I was deliberately moderating my feelings, I waited a week or so, then wrote her a quick, friendly update of what was going on in my life - typical of the types of things you might read in this blog.

Moments after sending the e-mail there was a reply from her, disjointed and obviously written in a tremendous rush. Read optimistically, I thought it might be saying something I'd barely allowed myself to dream. I read it through a number of times, tried to get some perspective by getting in touch with Reb and other female friends but wasn't able to, and finally wrote TB a reply that did not exceed the bounds of friendship, but did undoubtedly state that my feelings for her were strong and deep.

There was no reply - another several days went by, and I once again found a place of stability, and out of the blue TB sent out facebook friend invitations to one of her friends and myself, and when I accepted the friendship, the first volley of messages from TB's friend seemed to all include statements of how often TB talked about me. It felt very good, and I allowed myself to hope, even though there had been no reply to my note.

Then, last Friday, TB changed her status on Facebook to being in a committed relationship, and the little hope that should never have been turned to pain.

I worked through things last weekend - I still haven't had a reply from TB, nor do I expect one any time soon, though I'll continue to be her friend, and her friends friend.

On my birthday, TB wrote to me that I was one of the rare people who had faith in the path I was following, and as is often the case, she was right. I know this - I know that if I act out of the knowledge of what feels true, and not out of fear, I know where my life will lead. I know that this incredible gift I have gotten from TB - this heady powerful enriching feeling she inspires in me, will be found again, and with someone whom will find the same gift in me.

I know this to be true, and so, for while today I am alone, I am alone and happy.

I'd like to teach the world to sing

2009-02-20T05:16:00.000-08:00

I knew we were in trouble when John Kay started booming out of the speakers. My brother looked up from his UNO cards, his gaze going from bleary to aware to scarily animated. We finished off the hand as the phonograph needle drifted into the black hole between songs, then "Magic Carpet Ride" started playing. My cousin Ad and I exchanged glances, rolling our eyes as my brother leaped to his feet "Gotta drive! Let's go to a bar!".

We didn't even try to argue, simply tilting back our beers to finish them off. I decided I'd ride with Ad and Annie, as Annie hadn't been drinking and I hoped they would have the sense to let her drive.

We were barely in the car with Annie behind the wheel when my brothers van rocketed out of his driveway in reverse. He pulled a Rockford out onto the road, and Annie floored it as my brother took off on the straight highway through the cornfields. "Where is he going?" she asked, and Ad looked back at me from the passengers seat. "I have no idea..." I replied "... better not lose him", and I giggled, more than a little pie eyed. Ad joined in for no apparent reason, and Annie briefly looked at the car ceiling, then settled into a determined pursuit of my brothers rapidly fleeing tail lights.

We passed a tiny county road just in time to see the police car's lights start flashing, and Annie was already pulling over by the time the officer made it out to the highway.

The cruisers headlights shone through the back window, brilliantly lighting Ad and Annie's heads. Annie was digging in her purse, and Ad was trying to not look back at me, little giggles slipping past his compressed lips. I was trying hard to look sober as the officer glanced into my window, but I couldn't help flashing my best grin when I realized the officer was female. The grin went away when she put her hand on her pistol.

Annie rolled down the window and the cop leaned in, catching a whiff and pulling back a little, saying "Somebody's been drinking in this car...". I quickly replied "That's me officer!" while Ad proudly stated "I'm completely hammered, ma'am", and then he glared back at me. Ad can be a bit competitive.

The policewoman looked at Ad for a bit, and he put on a grin, probably intended to be charming. She looked grim, then looked back at me and faced another smile, I having decided that a little weaponry kind of spiced up my fantasy.

I saw a little disbelieving head shake, and then the officer looked at Annie's drivers license - "How about you ... Anne. Have you been drinking?". "No ma'am." Annie replied "I'm pregnant". The officer again looked at Ad and myself, this time even more grim, and said "Anne, I need to give you a little test as I can't really tell if you've been drinking because of ...", and she waved her hand vaguely. I gave a tiny wave back, just in case. Her hand moved towards her baton this time. I lost my grin, a little disappointed as I'd been hoping for the handcuffs.

"Anne, I'd like you to say the alphabet for me". Annie nodded, bit her lip, and started "A, B, C...", by "C" Annie had started to tentatively sing a little, "D, E...". I quietly started to sing along. Ad glared at me again, then joined in, a little louder than me. I upped my volume to match, and after a moment Annie seemed to get in the spirit of things. Ad started to harmonize, so I did too, and when we got to the final letter we finished in three part harmony with a triumphal singing of "Z!".

The officer had a slightly dazed expression as she looked at Ad, then slowly back at me, then finally to Annie "There is nothing I can do that is worse than what you already have to put up with. Please, drive a little slower...". She walked back to her cruiser, pointedly ignoring my waving, and as she drove past us still parked on the side of the road, we heard her yell "I feel so sorry for yooooouu...".

Silent light

2009-02-13T12:31:00.000-08:00

Mike writes often about communication on his blog The 25 Year Plan. I've been mulling over his recent posts on my walks, pondering his ponderings about what it takes to write and how to communicate effectively - not just meaning, but feeling as well.

My walk last night was physically rough. Several days ago we had a heavy rain that fell on top of all the snow, followed by a couple of above freezing days, then last night the temperature dropped and everywhere the water formed a hard surface of rock hard ice. Walking on sheet ice along steep hills required crampons and a heavy stomp with every step.

At first I distracted myself with thoughts about communicating, then somewhere I simply went away. I came to know that the low clouds in the dark night weren't featureless, they had a texture of pearl light curling round grey black softness, that the trees were moving gently and the wind was whispering the slightest of sounds, that a bird in a softly sighing pine was adjusting his wings in his sleep. I walked in complete inner silence, regarding without remarking.

When finally I came back to the world of thought, I realized that being open to the messages that are everywhere is another aspect of communication. That being able to resonate with all that is going on around you, to become a part of the surroundings, is important to true understanding.

For me, this state of openness and communion is what I seem to be always seeking, whether talking with my son, or by myself in the wild, or even while making love - maybe especially while making love.

I find myself wondering - do the rest of you have similar needs for deep understanding and connection? I would truly appreciate any thoughts you might have to share on the topic, as well as any sorts of details you might share about how you satisfy those needs. Thanks!

A drift

2009-02-06T11:50:00.000-08:00

Last night I walked in the late night under a shining half moon. My shadow was blue black against the blue white of the snow, and I paused often to watch the stars and the silhouettes of trees against the sky. I started a wish for delightful things to grace my days, and just as I uttered the first words, a shooting star swooshed across the sky for me to wish upon.

The weather has finally started to warm a little - it was within a few degrees of freezing, which is far warmer than it's been in a long time. There was the first hint of water in the wind, a welcome scent after months of arctic dryness.

Last weekend it was much, much colder. I decided to explore a park in a rural town in western Minnesota. I don't often hike near civilization, but this park sported a waterfall, and it was somewhere I'd never been before, and I was concerned about being too far out in the wild with the temperature so dire, so it appealed. I parked my car and started up a steep hill, and it was only after I was a long way above and away from my car that I realized I'd set off without snowshoes strapped to my pack.

I considered going back to my car, but then rationalized that the effort I'd expend getting my snowshoes would probably exceed the effort saved by having them, and so I resumed my trek. The trail crested the hill, then dropped a long ways down to a wonderful frozen waterfall. I was so jazzed by the beauty I decided I'd follow the trail up the far side and see if it looped back to my car. The trail again climbed for a while, then exited the woods to follow the edge of a cornfield. The trail started to descend, but the snow stayed level, having been pushed by the wind into a long, long drift. Pretty soon the drift was bellybutton level, with a heavy crust of ice just below waist level, making it impossible to push through.

I started breaking the crust with my fists, but soon I was exhausted and my hands were hurting, so I decided I'd try to get up on top of it. That took a lot of effort, and it didn't work. I struck on the notion of trying to spread my weight out and roll my way along, and so I very carefully slid myself onto the snow. I rolled one full time and gained a couple of feet of distance. It wasn't easy as I had to compress the loose snow on top of the crust, so I was always rolling up hill, but I managed another full turn, and just as I was twisting to get on my side for a third, the crust completely collapsed.

I sunk deep down into the snow. My trekking poles got tangled around and under me, the straps still twisted tightly around my wrists. For a few moments I giggled at the notion of me floundering around under the snow, but then I realized I couldn't get a purchase on anything to free myself. My feet were quite a bit higher than my head, so I tried arching and twisting and that only succeeded in burying my head deeper. I strained hard, hoping that something might pull free, and when I could feel my pole pressing against my ankle, I shifted a little and freed a hand.

I torqued and twisted my body, and was finally able to get the pole oriented so the tip was on the ground, and I used that point of solidity to lever the other pole free. With two poles, I was able to get myself up on my feet.

At that point I gave up on fighting the drift and turned around. Later, still hiking through the snow, I realized that throughout my ordeal I had always been within a short distance of all manner of homes. Something about the notion of freezing to death buried in a snowbank in the middle of a town struck me as hilarious, and I kept bursting into laughter all the way back to my car.

I think it's possible this winter is driving me mad :).

Survivor syndrome

2009-01-30T11:41:00.000-08:00

It's been a rough week, and there is little time today to write as there is much to do. Many of my co-workers were let go yesterday, including friends I've known for years. I'm sure we'll stay in touch, but I worry that my keeping my job while they've lost theirs may drive a wedge. It was hardest to say goodbye to my assistant - he's been easy to get along with and someone I've always been able to talk to, and I'm feeling his absence in many ways.

I'm not sure I'll have my job much longer, but at the moment, that doesn't seem to be bothering me - in a way I find some odd comfort with the notion.

It's a short post today - I rarely write well from sadness. I'm going to post some pictures from this last year, simply because it makes me happy to remember those days...

Small wonder

2009-01-23T07:36:00.000-08:00

I'm working from home today as my son has the day off from school and I didn't find time to arrange for child care. I had been working for a couple hours when he finally woke up and wandered into my bedroom. He stated "I can't see anything", so I got up and turned off the bright lights I use when my bedroom is my office. I asked "How about now?", and he replied "Nope. Still can't see...". I looked at his scrunched up face and queried "... and that is because...?", smiling because I knew what was coming. He held back a giggle "My eyes are closed!", and with that he fumbled forward, bumping into my bed and worming his way under the covers.

I climbed in with him, as I've done for the last seven years, and, as expected, he asked me to tell him a story. When he was little, I used to make up stories about him in fantastical situations. We even created two imaginary books titled "The boy in bed" and "The boy on the road", and I would always pretend to search for the appropriate book when he wanted a story. The bed book was always available, but the road book was only available when we were traveling, which was just a convenient way for me to get him to go on drives with me.

The imaginary stories stopped being of interest a couple of years ago, and now he likes to hear true stories of his life, and this morning he wanted to hear his birth story. It's a story I love as well, though for reasons far beyond the story he likes to hear, and someday I'll have to try to write those reasons, but today I think I'll simply write the story as I've told it so many times to my little boy.

A bit more than five weeks before my sons due date, Elsa was scheduled to spend a long weekend at a cabin with friends, and I was going to drive several hundred miles to go camping with Henry and Reb. Up till then the pregnancy had been completely normal, and so we really didn't think anything about our plans. Elsa called me at work and told me she had an odd feeling, and she was going to go to the hospital with a friend just to be safe, and that she would call me if there was anything to worry about.

News came quickly after that, and all of it was good. There wasn't any sign that there were problems with the pregnancy, and the odd feelings had gone away, and when Elsa asked whether we could pursue our weekend plans, the doctors had said "Probably". Elsa and I discussed it, and just as we decided to go ahead and travel, the odd feeling came again, and she returned to the hospital.

I met her there, and again there wasn't a diagnosable problem, but the staff was worried and so they had her stay overnight for observation. I stayed with her till the wee hours, then went home to sleep. They kept her in the hospital Saturday, and in the evening they told us they thought my wife was going to deliver. The doctor stopped by and told us that if the baby was born so premature, the baby wouldn't have full lung, kidney, or muscle development. The doctor made it sound very dire, and Elsa and I were filled with fear.

Sunday passed without event, and late Sunday night they told me that they would release her Monday if things still looked OK. Elsa encouraged me to go to work Monday morning to get things in order, even though it was a holiday "just in case", and so Monday I drove the 40 minutes to work at 5am.

An hour later, I finished some work on a server and was just reconnecting it when the phone rang. It was Elsa in a panic "The doctor says we have to deliver this baby NOW!". I was scared, but I truly wanted to be there, and so I asked "Can they wait for me to get there", and Elsa said "No - the doctor is saying it's an emergency", and without any more explanation she hung up. I ran out of my office to my car, and hit the road. I made the 40 minute drive to the hospital in 18 minutes - I remember flying through a 35 mph interchange at near 80 mph - the roads were completely empty as it was 6am on a holiday.

When I arrived, the doctor was there and had changed her mind, wanting some additional tests, and so we whiled away the morning watching TV and napping, till suddenly the doctor rushed in and said that we had to induce labor immediately. After that, things went remarkably quickly - labor was short athough extremely intense, and my memory of the time comes in strobe like flashes. I remember Elsa telling the doctor she needed to rest for a bit, and I remember the doctor getting an incredibly frustrated look on her face and saying "This baby is coming out NOW" through gritted teeth, and suddenly I heard a single tone coming from the computer screen that was monitoring my sons vitals, and I looked and saw all the traces flatline. I had this horrible feeling my baby was dead, and the doctor grabbed a suction device and inserted it, and all the sudden there was my tiny little son slithering out.

The doctor held him for a moment, and handed him to a nurse. My son opened his eyes and mouth, let out an incredible yell, kicked the nurse hard, then urinated on her. The doctors tension fell away, and a wondering look came to her face, and with a proud tone said "Well, I think he just proved us wrong about the lungs, kidneys, and muscles".

Amazingly, my son has never had any troubles resulting from being 5 weeks early, and in fact he was at his optimal birth weight when his 'scheduled' birth date finally arrived.

From the moment he was born, to the moment I saw him about 5 minutes ago, when he asked me what we were going to do for lunch, he has been a wonder and a miracle, and with that I'm off with him to a restaurant.

A moment of warmth

2009-01-16T04:12:00.000-08:00

Missouri is water, soft blue and green, burbling smooth across white stone. Missouri is blufftop and oak grove and crunchy leaves in low angle light. Missouri is an empty mountain field of feathery golden grass, and discarded clothes a bed for long lazy sun washed daydreams.

Missouri was a handful of days of silence, of motion free in gentle air, of body leading soul leading body...

A week ago I rose at 3am and hit the road south in bitterly cold weather. My goal was to feel ground under my feet, and to have the feel of damp air filling my lungs. I only had four nights free, and I was willing to cross the country just to walk in shirt sleeves.

The world as I drove was ink sketch exact in the frozen air, and the few lights in the empty land were precise pinpoints. I felt an odd tension, all the little unresolved issues in my life knotting inside, joining with the undeniable danger of the untravelled and icy roads I was on. Suddenly, a slash of light painted itself across the sky, and through my windshield I watched a falling star flare, then leave a slowly fading trail of light. It was astounding, and I realized I was grinning ear to ear and suddenly anticipating my upcoming days of roaming.

Later, many, many miles later, at a moment where the sky was showing just the slightest tinge of pink at the edges, another shooting star cut a path across the sky, and this time I burst into delighted laughter.

I found my sought for warmth in southern Missouri, and spent the next several days exploring caves and streams and mountains, all in soft warm air. On the final evening before heading back north, I was lying on a king size bed in a motel room, thinking about calling it an early night, and suddenly I couldn't stand the notion of not having one last moment before heading into the terrible cold of Minnesota, and I hurriedly dressed, got in my car, and set off on a winding country road.

The sun touched the horizon and I stopped, then walked a little ways to the edge of a valley. Molten copper light flowed along the land from the melting sun. A little breeze kicked up, a contrasting chill to the ambient warmth, and I zipped my jacket up, watching traces of cloud turn bronze, and as the last wedge of the sun slipped below the horizon, the clouds turned lemon against the purple sky, then slowly, slowly darkened.

I started to leave, but there was a sense of something that held me in place. Venus emerged as the sky darkened, and I looked around the sky to see if any stars were popping. Across the valley I noticed a brightening along the edges of a tree bristled slope. A sliver of orange light appeared, a tiny round slice cut by the slant of the mountain. The sliver grew as it climbed, and when it reached the peak, a vast full moon shown in glorious splendor, and in that unexpected moment I felt a sense of joyous peace, of connection to a world full of wonder.

I will hold that moment in the months ahead, use it to warm myself in the frozen days till another full moon brings warmth again...

Crystal reflections

2008-12-29T04:40:00.000-08:00

The strap on the crampon won't close, and I try to peer through the ice on my eyelashes to see what's wrong. It's too blurry in the light of my headlamp, and I reach up to try to claw some of the ice free. My fingers are frozen, clumsy chunks of numbness, and I'm only partially successful in clearing my vision. I focus hard on the strap, watch my fingers and move them without feeling, finally hearing the snap of the buckle. I hurriedly pull my glove back on. I can feel the cold of the fabric on the back of my hand and wrist, but nothing lower down.

I swat at the ice around my mouth and nose, break a larger passage to breathe, then clumsily work my gloves through the straps of my poles and resume my hike. The extreme cold has turned the snow to something as hard as glass, and the crampons squeal and crunch with each step.

The rhythmic sounds pull me into a reverie, and I have a sense of July warmth, a weepy humid night. I had called the night a steaming black hell in my first conversation with Lynnea as we yelled over the band in a bar. Despite the heat, our conversation had turned to cold as she told me of her desire to explore Antarctica and I had told her of my love of travel and my nightly winter walks in the extremes of Minnesota winters. It was an incredible conversation, passionate, funny, and in seemingly no time we were being told the bar was closing. More dates followed, and more conversations, ranging all over - math and magic to travel and politics. The days grew too short for all that we had to share, and each morning I would look forward to her first e-mail, and our first phone conversation, and our first kiss in the evening...

A sharp pain over my left cheekbone pulls me back, and I realize I've walked a couple more miles and the trail has turned to the east. The wind that was on my back is now on my left, and the skin on my face that isn't covered by ice is beginning to freeze. I pull my glove off and realize my hand is alive again, touch my cheek and realize it's waxy and very cold. I pull off my backpack and root around, finding a fleece face mask. I undo my hood, pull off my headband, and roll the mask down, wincing as the ice on my eyebrows and cheeks pull at my skin. I hoist my backpack and set off - I hope my left cheek hasn't been frostbitten again.

The first time I'd frostbitten my cheek was on a far below freezing late November day. Lynnea and I had set out on a long hike in northern Minnesota. We were following a trail along a wild river flowing along the base of a series of sandstone cliffs. Snow had yet to fall, and the frigid weather had frozen the water flowing through and over the rock into flows and spears of crystal ice, each structure holding a tiny image of the sun. We walked and climbed along the rocks, bumping and touching, chattering and sometimes quiet, each of us sharing the beauty that we found. In the months we had been dating, I had been trying to keep our relationship from getting too deep - I had only recently been separated from my wife, and I still had a lot of emotion tied up in my feelings about TB. That resolve crumbled that day.

I can still remember the moment exactly - I had lain down on my side to take a photograph of some icicles glowing in the sun, and then I had turned on to my back to snap a photo of Lynnea - she was standing looking up the river towards the low November sun. Sunlight was falling on her face, and light reflecting from the cliffs and river and ice made her glow - her eyes were focussed far off, and I could see by her posture she was holding her breath. Her face was rapturous, and when suddenly her lips parted to let the breath out, I could feel something inside me let go, something warm and tender, and tears flooded my eyes. I don't know what happened next - I know I didn't tell her I was suddenly deeply in love with her. For some reason I no longer remember, I felt I needed to wait.

We kept walking long, finally ending up at a waterfall where we lay side by side, gloved hands clasped and our heavy winter gear lightly touching from head to toe. It was another beautiful moment in a wonderful day, and the feelings I was having swelled to fill my world...

Suddenly I'm having trouble breathing, and I realize the trail has turned again, this time full into the wind. The ice on my face has turned to water and the mask I put on is sodden and it's hard to pull air through. I push my glove up between my face and the mask and look full into the wind. I breathe into the palm of my glove, force the warm air down, and in the brisk wind the wet mask freezes rapidly, and when I pull my glove away, the mask remains tented away from my nose and mouth. I start walking again, feeling despondent and chilled. I try to convince myself that it's just the exertion of pushing through the snow, but a more honest part of myself knows it's the next part of my reverie that is making me tired. With trepidation, I start walking again and resignedly resume my memories.

The drive back from our hike was long, and as we neared the city we pulled into a restaurant for a very late dinner. Our waiter was personable in the near empty restaurant, and he fit himself into the shared glow of our day easily. I remember feeling incredibly happy - my arm around Lynnea, her hand on my leg under the table, laughing and telling stories, my mind full of a future with her, and just as we were leaving the restaurant, I said something like "I think my approach to life is something like a tourist". I don't remember why I said that, but I have no doubt it was on topic and should have been innocuous. It apparently wasn't to Lynnea, as she suddenly became serious, and with a mused "That makes a lot of sense to me", she settled into looking out the window of the car. At first my feelings were hurt at the abrupt change in mood, then, as the drive lengthened and all my statements were met with monosyllabic replies I grew frustrated and then worried. When I dropped her off, she was pleasant but distant, and I went back to my apartment frustrated and tense...

The exhaustion of reliving that memory combines with the real physical exertion of miles of stomping crampons into rock hard snow, and I am shaky and weak, The trail is humping along a series of hills, and the night feels black and impenetrable. I still have a couple miles to go and I feel a hint of the greyness that has filled my life since that evening three years ago.

Lynnea and I continued to date, but her odd attitude remained, and slowly my feelings started to fade to something far more confused and frustrated. In February I tried to say goodbye, and she convinced me not to, but we couldn't seem to find any place happy, and not long after that we decided to try to be friends, and for two and a half years we exchanged e-mails and phone calls and went on outings, and finally, almost exactly a year ago, I said goodbye, because it was simply becoming too painful to be always wanting more than I could have with her...

The hills on the trail have turned to a long curving rise, and I know that when I reach the top it won't be long till I'm back at my car. My long reverie past, I suddenly notice that the snow is glittering, tiny points of light showing everywhere, and then I notice my shadow, inky against the blue white of the snow, and I turn and see the edge of the moon above the far off horizon. Suddenly filled with beauty, I hasten to the top of the hill and see the shadows in the valley seep to the edges and disappear. The branches of the trees below have crests of snow, and everything is edged in twinkling brightness.

Suddenly I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the beauty in my life, and for the future I am turning towards. I pull off my mask and hold my arms out wide, spread to touch the moon, then speak a prayer for health and beauty and good to enter my life. Without thought, and with a mounting sense of excitement, I whisper an invitation to the wind, destined for she who can share my life, strength adding to my strength and joy to my joy, and with that whisper still twirling in the wild night breeze, I find a smile and set off again, following my path with strong and happy steps.

The trail less traveled

2008-12-19T04:22:00.000-08:00

Several years back I found myself with a couple days free, and having long been separated from the color and feel of stone, I drove like a madman across the great plains from Minnesota to Utah. The first spot that called to me as I entered Utah was a well known area called the Fisher Towers.

I set out on the trail slow, legs and body stiff from more than a day in the car, eyes fuzzy and mind fogged from lack of sleep. The cool air and the warm sunlight glowing from the rock enlivened me, and suddenly a slanted stone face with nothing but sky at the lip pulled, and I gave in. With a couple steps to gather speed, I jumped, pistoned my foot, scrabbled with the other, then with a lunge got hold of the lip and pulled myself up. On the far side, the ground dropped slowly into a valley, cut by deep gulleys and populated with house sized boulders, and on the far side a massive crack in the upper cliff face offered access to whatever lay beyond. It was irresistible.

The valley had hidden treasure - small golden blossoms, tucked in the shade of the boulders but bright in the reflected light, and I slowed my pace to admire as I worked my way across. Reaching the enormous crack, excitement again filled me and I leapt up to the first canted ledge, using the momentum to jump to a boulder, then springing towards a thin ridge of rock that ran up the center. I landed clean, took a long step, pushed off unevenly and the next step caught the ridge with only the edge of my boot, and with a terrible off balanced mix of gravity and inertia, my leg torqued and I slipped off the ridge. I managed to twist to save my face, and a last minute grab kept me from falling further. I hung where I was for a moment, badly shaken, then eased myself to a more secure position to examine things. It looked bad - several oozing scrapes on my bare arms and hands, a tiny gouge in my thigh, and a long razor thin cut starting above my ankle and ending near my knee.

I tested things - no muscle injuries and my joints moved without pain, and I decided to continue my hike, though now with a plan of making a loop back to my car. I climbed slowly along the crack to the lip of the valley, then walked along a huge flow of slickrock. It steadily gained altitude, and eventually I could see glints of sunlight and I knew I was seeing the parking lot and I change my course towards my car.

The slickrock ended in a sharp cliff, and I followed the edge looking for a way down, finally arriving at a series of three hanging box canyons that cut through, utterly lovely in their near perfection. The sides were vertical but only about 20 feet tall - getting to the bottom of the first canyon was easy as I could choose a path from any of the three sides, and there were numerous cracks and footholds to use.

Getting to the bottom of the second was a bit more of a challenge as the only access was over the lip where the water had flowed from the first canyon into the second, and the face was largely smooth and somewhat undercut. I took a long time deciding how to proceed, finally choosing the best option and noting that the bottom of the second canyon was deep in the smoothest desert sand. I climbed down about 6 feet, then, arriving at the undercut area and seeing no alternatives, I jammed my left hand into a crack and gripped a knob of rock with my right, lowered my body till I was as close to the floor as I could get, then with a snapping pushoff, I dropped toward a featureless patch of sand, fully expecting a cushioned landing.

My feet hit, the left landing soft and easy. The right did too for a moment, and then suddenly there was a horrible jabbing into the outside edge of my heel, and too late, I let myself roll backwards into the sand, trying to minimize the impact of my foot.

It hurt. It hurt terribly, and I was afraid to look. I lay there on soft sand, looked at the square of perfect blue sky, tried to ignore the pain that pulsed with every beat of my heart. I listened to the breeze rustling the dry plants, then squashed a thread of thought as to whether I could use them as a splint for my leg. I noticed the golden blossoms sprouting at the bottom of the canyon walls, tried to find my earlier sense of wonder.

It wasn't working, and I sat up. My ankle was turning blue above my boot, and I could see it was beginning to bulge a little. I thought about taking the boot off to see what had happened, then realized I might not be able to get it back on. A second later I came to another realization that I didn't really want to know what had happened, at least not until I was back at my car.

I rolled to the canyon wall, braced against it, then stood on my left foot and eased the right down. No grind of bone - that was good. Lots and lots of pain, but it was bearable, and so I limped to the lip of the final canyon. It was nearly identical to the one I had just come down, and I had a moment of real fear thinking I might have to do the same sort of descent. I quashed the fear, then took my time looking for a series of holds that could get me to the bottom.

It took longer than I wanted, but finally I figured out something that might work, and I started my descent, incredibly slowly, making sure there was no possibility of mistake, and finally I made it to the bottom and started heading towards the parking lot across the desert floor. There was no elegance to my walk - I chose the most direct path possible, pushing through creosote tangles and becoming intimate with the endless spiny flora of the desert.

The final half mile was a sharp ascent to the parking lot, and I did it at a crawl. I arrived at the top, pulled myself to my feet, rounded a boulder and stopped. Directly in front of me was a woman - tanned, fit, top of the line hiking gear all freshly laundered. I stared at her, trying to think of something to say, but ended up standing slack jawed, my leg and arms still bleeding, my knees scraped and clothes torn, face bruised and ankle blue and swollen.

She looked startled for a second, then seemed to settle into some familiar social pose, and with an elegant British accent, she commented "I was thinking of going off trail", then, after a pause, she followed with "Would you recommend it?".

I pondered answers, thought about the question, thought about explaining my condition, then smiled, lopsided because of the bruise, and answered "Yes".

Sleeping with the moon

2008-12-11T12:21:00.000-08:00

I don't pay much attention to the calendar and only note the days as to whether I have my son or not, but I do pay attention to the sky, and I was delighted to see the full moon on my drive in this morning. Three full moons ago I turned a corner, finally letting go of Lynnea and turning towards a life without the endless pain.

It started with a weekend on the far side of Wisconsin with my cousin Reb - her divorce from Henry had been final for several months then, and it was the first chance we'd had to spend some time together. Talking on the phone with her is fun, but I think it puts her into some sort of literate clever part of her brain, and it never feels very intimate to me.

Reb and I are close and always have been, though sometimes months and maybe years go by without us really opening up to each other. When the times come, they are deep and only slightly guarded, more so on her part than mine. I always suspected that, and this weekend she mentioned that she kept barriers up from me, which makes me a little sad but I suspect I understand.

The weather was gray and weepy, and Reb wisely chose for us to meet near Lake Michigan. Our first several hours together were spent walking the beach in the rain with the surf hissing and pounding and the gulls wheeling and calling lonely.

It was exactly right and Reb and I walked together in the flow, voice, mood, and motion a part of the waves and sand and wind.

Come evening we found a motel and sat talking till 6 in the morning, and after a short sleep we had an early lunch and then another long walk on the beach in a world turned remarkably wild and cold. The waves were playful and caught my feet several times though I tried to avoid them - such a silly game of tag, and such a joy to play.

The drive home was pure flow - endless long prairie and corn fields and rainy gray.

The day after dawned cold and bright and I realized it was my day for Glacial Lakes, a place of profound power and peace for me, and so I left work a bit early and drove there, arriving just before six. I ritualistically chose my clothes - blue shirt and utterly loose and breezy navy shorts. My walk wound up steep glacial kames and down into blue water filled hollows - the slant lit grass was blue and black and endless gold graced by hawks tracing the tight contours of land and I walked well and strong and long.

Just as the sun had set behind an enormous mound of grass covered hill, a trio of deer - buck, doe, and yearling - sprinted up and into the gold swirl corona of light. They leaped right, left, and into the sun, silhouettes of joy and grace, and I cried in grateful abandon.

Later I, still tracing contours and following a line of forest, rounded a corner and found the full moon huge and yellow floating over a hillside golden with the last light of the day, and I laughed in glee. I talked to the moon, intending a wish, but instead offered my love to the moon, then in gusts of silly happiness, I offered to make love to the moon, and there, embraced by trees and grass and the last calls of the day, I found a playful wildness dancing with me and I surrendered to the moment, unbridled and trustingly free.

Later, much later, after the stars had wheeled a bit and more miles had been traversed in darkness, I saw my car, still a long hook of trail away and tucked in a hollow, and I stopped and again looked to the moon, now more austere and silver bright. I looked long, then gathered up my light and gave it to the moon, and then from deep in me, unbidden but true, I made a wish that my far off friend might feel that light...

What I like about you

2008-12-05T04:48:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago, my son asked if he could have a piece of his birthday cake, and I replied "Only if you eat a healthy dinner and have a good attitude". His attitude was marvelous, and the dinner was as healthy as I could make it, and of course he forgot his birthday cake and settled in to playing with his transformers while I cleaned up.

I settled in with a book on the couch, listening to his amazing repertoire of battle sounds and the growly voices of transformers come to life, and then, after a moment of quiet he came pounding over and with a leap he was standing next to me on the couch "Do you remember what I would like?", he queried. I replied "I do... do you remember what I *always* like?".

In the same tone of my answer came "I do..." and then he was in my arms for a big hug, and as I held him there, I said "There are many things I like about you, and I want to tell you two of them". I could feel his body change a little and I knew he was listening. "First, I like how even though you are strong and muscular, you are also incredibly snuggly", and I tightened my hug and gave his hair a kiss. "Second, I like how you come up with amazing things for your transformers to do, and I like how you can give them voices and make so many different cool sounds".

I could feel a happy wiggle, and felt wonderfully happy myself, and suddenly I felt him bunch up and he said "One thing I like about me is that I'm FAST!" and he jumped up and started to run. When he hit the wood part of the floor in his socks, he slipped and fell with a huge crash, and I winced to see it. For a moment after impact he was taut, and then I saw him relax and he eased down flat on his back - I heard him say as he looked at the ceiling, in a calm, musing tone "Another thing I like about me, is that I'm incredibly tough...", and he lay there for a while, for all the world looking as if that was where he wanted to be.

I like that I can tell him things I like about him, and I like even more that he can find things in himself to be proud of, even after he's experienced a fall. I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful son...

Sand on stone

2008-11-28T07:02:00.000-08:00

Not too long ago I was meandering through the southwest in the four corners area. I had been several days on the road and was in a state of ease. No destination and no timetable, I simply followed the road and when the rare intersection appeared, I chose the path that most appealed.

An enormous inclined patch of slickrock appeared beside the road and a pullout beckoned, and though I drove past it pulled at me and so I eventually turned round and returned.

The day was quiet, the only sounds dry and whispery, the breeze sporadic and restless. The sun was bright, though the warmth was November tepid, and I slowly stripped off my driving clothes and dressed in cream hiking pants and sky blue shirt, then layered on a sweater and jacket. As I was adjusting my backpack, a car drove up and a woman hopped out of the passengers side. Her exit from the car was lithe, and as she strode away I noticed her walk - her legs swung from far above her hip, each step a strong push, the landing foot canted to touch the ground with minimal impact. I had the thought that you would have to walk for a very long time on rough terrain to develop a stride like that, and with that thought, I started walking up the rock myself.

There is a joy in walking on slickrock - the footing is solid, no possibility of slipping. The rock contours in frozen waves, and with incredible tactile joy I swooped down the curves, gathering speed to run up the far side. Higher up, the rock formed ledges, and each giant step upwards opened up vistas - the sense of achievement was delightful.

At the top there was an 80 foot tall headwall of rock, and I followed the base as it ribboned along the plateau, mile after quiet mile. Finally, I arrived at the lip of a deep, deep canyon, and noticing a knob of rock cantilevered out into space, I dropped my backpack, grabbed a water bottle, and climbed to settle cross legged in the wind and sun and sky, and in that place, I simply dissolved into the day.

Some time later I heard a hint of sound, echoed and reflected off the rock. Voice tones, two of them, and as they grew louder I could hear an exchange taking place, pleasant, first a musical lilt, then a low voice, near a growl but affectionate. I listened without trying to understand, enjoying the feelings that floated on their words.

After a bit, when the sounds were joined by the scrape of boots, a tall man emerged from the trees, bent arms and big hands, shoulders bunched with muscle. His face was young, rounded and sunny. He slowed, staring into the canyon, behind, the woman I had seen earlier emerged, immediately looking at me then greeting me with the slightest change of expression. I flowed to my feet, stepping away from the edge and towards her. The man, noticing the motion, turned and walked towards me.

His stride was powerful, each step a stomp and thrust, trusting to raw power to handle any missteps. We came together, and he led the conversation, a gentle voice questioning me of my travels. The woman clarified some of his words, small phrases inserted gently, so easily done that it didn't intrude.

I entertained the thought that she might be his mother as the age difference was quite notable, but watching them I became sure they were lovers - I'll admit to wanting that to be so. Her grace and elegance were palpable, and he was likeable and sweet. I liked the way they meshed, and I enjoyed being a part of them for a while. I carried that glow with me for the rest of that day, and writing about them now, I feel it again.

Walk in beauty

2008-11-25T14:14:00.000-08:00

It has been three years since I last wrote here, and for the most part, it has been three years of pain. I've fought through and done the things I've needed to do, though the decisions have been hard and the temptation to veer strong. I'm not sure all my decisions were correctly made, but I did the best I could given my limitations and circumstances.

Today isn't really different than the days leading here in any notable way but one - I choose that it be different. In tiny increments, I've garnered strength, and today I choose to push forward and embrace a future that is my own, not the dreams of my parents, or society, or friends, but something uniquely mine.

Nothing else changes today but direction...

Nothing else is needed

Gift of a moment

2005-11-13T19:14:00.000-08:00

Starshine glints below and air rises up, swirling, enveloping me in the sense of her. Unbidden my hand pulls my cell phone from my pocket and I start to dial.

It has been a day of following impulse. I left work early and drove long following a need to hike the ravine. Bare branches sang in the breeze and I held every inspiration for a moment, then flung them on the winds to her. The path curled up and around, exploring sandstone hollows and outcrops and I followed it longer than I intended. When finally I sat in my car and mentally prepared to go home I found I wasn't ready and following a whim headed east to the Mississippi in darkening twilight.

Sixty miles on and feeling my way, a small road beckons and I turn to follow. At a dead end I get out, walk downhill, and realize I am far above the Mississippi. A fence bars my way and I follow it till I find a tree I can climb to cross over and drop on the other side. Not far ahead the world falls away and I approach cautiously. A shadow projects outward from the cliff and I move my head back and forth in the dark trying to get a sense of what I am seeing. I realize it is a finger of black rock, jutting out from the edge, only a couple of feet wide and maybe six feet long. I inch out and at the precipice slowly lower myself and start to notice where I am.

The sky is a vast bowl of black velvet, the frigid moonless night allowing the stars to shine out in diamond glory. The sky merges with the bluff on the far side of the river and small lights glisten, adding to the splendor. Below the water mirrors everything with perfect fidelity and I hang suspended, immersed in diamond and velvet.

The wind swirls up and I can feel her as I dial the last digit. Her voice mail answers "TB... TB..." the awe and wonder soften my voice and I trail off. I have no plan and the words tumble out. "The beauty here is incredible - stars below, stars above, river and sky. If you can connect with this, touch this beauty, if you can find a way, you really should - I know this moment... this gift of a moment, is for you too. You've been with me all day..." again I trail off, then hang up.

Without transition I drop into a deep state of simple awareness - no thought, only appreciation. Without remark the stars wheel in the sky and water.

A long, long while later I walk to my car and go home.

Benefits

2005-11-05T16:29:00.000-08:00

The blanket is soft to the touch and has a warmth of it's own. The golden brown has depth and as we lie side by side, it feels as if the comfort of the blanket envelopes us, creates a space where there is only touch and breath.

A shift and kiss, light, tentative, and a fingertip slide and sigh. Gently her touch pulls me closer, closer, and my hands stroke and explore. The kisses lengthen, intensity rising. Gentle unfastenings, slow pull, touching more skin and more.

Fire rises, slowly at first, then more urgent. Rhythmic movements mold us closer and closer, and with a mutual gasp we strain together. Uneven breathing, laced with small noises and moans. Her hands run over me, exciting me. I move my hands, cupping, pulling, stroking and her body responds.

I wrap an arm around her waist, low, hold her and lift up on my toes and hand. I pull her tight and she wraps arms and legs as I roll us over. Her fingernails slide down my chest as she rises up and my whole body pulses as I look above me.

Our eyes meet and we smile, share a joyous laugh. She leans forward, kisses lightly and then arches back. I touch her and touch her, lifting off the blanket to louder and louder gasps, and suddenly she shudders and writhes and again leans to hold me close.

This time she rolls me over, and the motion starts something. I lose control, give my body and emotions sway and this time when she starts to shudder I join her.

We slowly relax, almost asleep, her sandwiched between me and the blanket, and after a long time I roll off, hands still entwined. Slowly we come alive, talk softly till laughter starts, then louder and suddenly her hands are touching and we are locked again. This time it is less intense but wonderfully satisfying, and somehow we peak together.

Early morning, the smell of her still in the treehouse, I watch the electric maple yellow outside my window slowly emerge from the night. I know this won't last and don't mind the thought. I roll over, bury my head in the pillow, let the shadow memories of last night play for a moment then let them go, and with a final fond thought, fall asleep.

Fragments

2005-10-29T04:18:00.000-07:00

Rattle and whisper and growing glow slowly break the cycling turns of thought. The whisper of long grass dies as I come to a halt, my gaze continuing up the trail.

The path is little used, the grass knee high and waving, an elegant sea of tans and browns and burnished copper. Ahead, the path enters a large stand of Aspen, golden bright and leaves fluttering in the wind.

The branches form a continuous arch over the trail, and the setting sun directly behind me casts my shadow far into the tunnel of trees. The long grass catches the light and my silhouette is haloed and dramatic. It takes my breath away.

A long long pause, thoughts slowly turning, and I begin walking again. I remember last winter, how frequently I rejoiced in my physicality and physical sensation. I pursue the thought, pull it apart but can't find the grain that is irritating me.

When I get to my car I notice with all my far flung senses that I am the only one around.

I strip off all my clothes, let the chill air slowly cool me. After a while I walk a small ways, run my hands up the cords of my calves and thighs, touch the long muscles of my back and feel the smooth power as I twist in the darkening twilight. I listen to the frogs and toads, hear a cricket pause at the call of a nighthawk. The wind caresses the treetops and in the whisper I walk back.

I pull my socks on and revel in the plush warmth, slowly put on my shirt and enjoy the crisp coolness of the fabric. The heavy cloth of my jeans weights my hips in a taught embrace.

Suddenly I sense the core of my ponderings and grab it - I realize that all summer I've been isolating my intellect from my body, ignoring it, setting aside sensation. I think about that, wonder why, and then remember the frequent times I felt proud of myself for continuing on despite how badly I felt.

Since I moved into the treehouse I've been plagued by a string of health issues. I have only had three days where I've felt physically well.

I think that the health issues I've had has caused me to relegate my body to 'meat' status. The pain and itching and gross appearance of the poison ivy took away my appreciation of my skin, bruises and muscle stress causing deep tissue hives took away my joy of strenuous activity, finally a two month long cold took away my ability to taste, smell, hear, and to some extent breathe.

Crazily enough I felt good that I was able to push it all aside and seemingly compensate.

It begs the question of cause and affect - I had a frequent joyful appreciation of the sensual all of last winter. Did I conjure up my health issues out of fear of where it might lead? Is it possible it came from outside of me? I think there is such a thing as coincidence but I think it is rare, especially given how often I have been finding what I need in the last several years.

I think that losing the intense connection with my body and physical sensation has robbed me of much of my spiritual appreciation. I've frequently felt lost this summer, unable to find the clear harmonies of last winter. There has been frequent happiness but not the intense soul joy.

I'm at a bit of a loss at how to solve the problem - I have a hope that with the fall and winter I will regain my health and connection, but I'm not sure - cause and affect are so often connected back to front in these realms.

Has anyone else felt this way? Anyone have any suggestions?

Slip sliding away

2005-10-22T05:26:00.000-07:00

Katrina moved north still potent. It crossed the plains, a continent wide swath of cloud. The cold edge of the north woods halted the progress and rain fell long and hard. Rita soon followed...

A small laugh of disbelief escaped, and I clamped down on my emotions before hysteria set in. I leaned forward at an odd angle, feeling my right leg sink a little deeper and tried to pull my left leg free of the mud. I could feel the muscles in my back start to cramp and I stopped. My left leg hadn't moved and now my right leg was buried to the hip.

I forced calm, took a moment. Suddenly the facts coalesced - the huge pond where normally there was an outwash prairie, the suddenly steeper face of the hill, the oddly angled patch of mud I had stupidly decided to cross...

Fear surged and I struggled crazily to free my leg. Nothing. The implications of being in the middle of a mudslide started to bubble up. The hill could slide again and I could be buried - the mud I was trapped in could slide into the newly formed pond, taking me with it... I resisted the urge to try muscling my way free despite the urgency - strength wasn't going to free me.

I breathed deep, suddenly realized I was within a half mile of an office skyscraper - I started to laugh, overcome with the irony that after the thousands of backcountry miles I've logged I might die within sight of a major metro area.

The laugh allowed me to think and I realized it was my shoe that was locked in the mud. I flexed my foot, wriggled my toes. I could feel mud slip into the shoe. I stopped, thought, realized the hole would quickly fill, realized I was too cheap to give up a fifty dollar shoe without a fight. I torqued my torso as far as I could, gave a twist and heave and my foot pulled free of my shoe and with a squishy sucking sound my leg was out of the ground.

I jammed my arm into the hole, my cheek pressed into the muck. I felt the edge of the shoe, worked my fingers till I had a good grip. Slowly, slowly, I twisted and torqued, freed it from the hole. It was filled and heavy. I threw it out past the edges of the slide. I repeated the process with my right foot, throwing that shoe too.

I lay prone, half submerged. I wriggled, stroked, slowly moving forward and suddenly I was at the edge. I rolled off, grabbed my shoes and gave them another toss, then followed them up the hill, hoping I was out of the path of any possible slides.

As I pulled on my shoes I realized it had been only 20 minutes since I had dropped off my son at pre-school. I started moving up the hill again, working muscles that I knew would stiffen in the cold driving rain. The heavy mud coating slowed me down and I pushed at it with my hands. The rain helped and soon most of it was off.

I looked down at myself, looked at the slicked tight nylon pants and shirt, realized I looked like I'd been mud wrestling. Feelings of survival and sex swirled and pulsed, and suddenly I was filled with need.

I pulled out my phone and called Lynnea...

Friends

2005-07-09T05:53:00.000-07:00

The body slap of impact rang through my bones as my car rolled backwards. A bumper lay drowning in antifreeze, and slowly, slowly I realized it was mine. I turned the car off and the sudden silence let the numbness return.

The crash wasn't the cause - the long days had been piling together ever since Gary called last week. He had been my best friend in college, back in the Karen days, and for years after he had moved a thousand miles away we would get together and hike all over the United States.

Ten years ago the calls slowed and we gradually drifted apart. His call inviting me to his parents house on the Thursday before the holiday weekend caught me completely by surprise and I shuffled my schedule to fit in the visit.

As I walked into their house that evening I was struck by the notion that it felt exactly like the first time I'd been there, 27 years ago. I spotted Gary's dad Peter and he called from his easy chair "MW, you look exactly the same as when you came here the first time". The synchronicity of the thought and all the memories that came with it brought tears to my eyes and a warm sense of belonging coursed through me.

He waved "Take mom's chair. Then she won't have any place to sit and interrupt us". I snickered and sat down to the sounds of Shirley yelling at her husband from the kitchen. They've been married more than 50 years and somehow they continually find new ways to lovingly insult each other. It's an art form.

Peter and I talk while Shirley raucously interjects. I don't bother to ask about Gary - I'm in the presence of storytellers and the information will come in it's proper time.

Eventually Gary bursts through the door, talking and waving his hands in good Italian fashion. I'm sucked into a rapid fire five way conversation and nobody bothers to introduce me to the person I presume is his wife. It doesn't matter - as the evening progresses through dinner and desert we learn some details about each other and I feel like I've made a new friend.

The night runs late and I finally tear myself away for the drive home. I arrive back at the treehouse and stay up till 1am trying to round up my camping gear for my first trip out since moving. I'm finally satisfied that I know what I'm missing and make a list of things to pick up from my wife's house when I pick up my son for Friday night.

I collapse into bed for a four hour sleep and rise for work tired. Work is stressful and I take a break in the middle and push myself for a fast six mile hike. I feel drained but better and when it comes time to pick up my son I'm feeling happy and centered. He is as joyful as ever and we go shopping for dinner, then play trains in the treehouse until it's time to bring him back to his mom's.

I pick up the missing camping gear and then spend time getting everything packed. At midnight I slam the trunk a half dozen times until stuff compresses enough for the latch to catch, and I crawl into bed for another short three hours.

I head off to work to put in my eight hours and my wife drops my son off at noon. He and I head out, stopping on the way for a backpack hike and some small town food shopping. We arrive at my cousin Ad's place in the early evening and make camp, then settle in for a game of boche ball. My son finds relatives to play with and the evening is easy and fun.

After sunset we light a bonfire and I tuck my son into a sleeping bag in the tent. He falls instantly asleep and after a while I go back out. Long time friends and relatives are gathered and I think about how I want to tell them about my new status as a single person. I wait for a lull and then start a winding story, intending to lead gently to my point, but as I start discussing changing relationships an old friend interjects with a happy tale of a new love. We discuss that for a long time, and I decide I don't want to temper the sweet glow we all feel, so in the wee hours I take my story to bed with me.

My son crawls into my sleeping bag at first light and I realize I've probably only had 3 hours of sleep. He wants us to create some new stories for his "Boy in Bed book", and we while away the time making up a story about him creating a circus. After that he has me tell him all the other stories we've made up and eventually we can hear the other campers rising.

The day progresses and finally I pack up and we head out. I punctuate the long drive home with stops at parks and we explore several rock formations and waterfalls with me carrying him in the backpack. I deliberately prolong the trip because I know he will fall asleep at some point, and I want that point to be his normal bed time so I can simply carry him in to bed.

He falls asleep at 9 and I drive the last couple hours home. Another midnite crawl into bed, and I wake up at 3:30am to drive north to my parents. They're headed out on an Alaskan cruise and need to be at the airport at 5am.

I stay with them till they pass through security and as I head for my car I realize the temperature and humidity have dropped. It's too good of a morning to spend in bed and so I drive south for an hour and hike through glorious butterfly adorned prairie flowers and steep river ravines for several hours. Eventually I'm physically worn out and I trudge to my car for the long drive home. The walk was meditative and at least my mind feels rested.

The bed in the treehouse beckons but I realize I only have 45 minutes till I need to leave for a date, and I spend the time cooking a pasta dish to freeze for my next weeks lunches. I clean up the dishes and dress in a hurry to dash out the door.

It's another hours drive to the park where I'm meeting my date, and she pulls in just as I'm getting out of the car. She looks trim and fit and we immediately head out for our walk. After seven miles of climbing river valley slopes I realize she hasn't once been out of breath through our two hours of conversation. Finally we stop back at our cars for that awkward moment of appraisal, and she looks me in the eye and tells me "I think I would just like to be friends. I'll give you my number and you can call me when you'd like to do something".

This is almost exactly how the first two dates ended, and there is something about it that is personally frustrating. I think I'm bothered by two things - the first is the need to categorize a relationship on such a brief encounter with no explanation of the reasoning. I had no idea of where the relationship was going at that point, and I don't understand why anything needed to be said. I would really, really like to understand what the underlying message is.

The second problem I have is in laying the onus of making the next contact on me. We are supposed to be friends! Why do I need to do all the work? Again, I don't really understand this message....

I fumble some reply to her, probably hide my frustration since that seems to be my way, and get in my car. The negative feelings combine with exhaustion and I feel myself start to go numb.

The hour drive home passes in a haze, and with a little over a mile to the treehouse I roll past a coffee house that has internet access. I remember that I have e-mails to return and so I quickly turn into a dimly lit parking lot to turn around.

I never saw the concrete wall that oddly bisected the lot.

I shake my head, realize I'm not hurt. I look out to the road and see a woman jaw open staring at me from her car, and I give her a big embarrassed smile. Her jaw drops further and then I see little lines of amusement forming. She drives off and the small introduction of happiness finally breaks me free.

The car is obviously not going anywhere, and so I push it up a hill into a parking space, stupidly taking several tries to finally work out the needed turns of the steering wheel. I sit back in the car and call my insurance company and spend a surprisingly pleasant hour talking with a woman and trying to find any tow truck to come and get me. Everyone is out watching the 4th of July fireworks and the two of us finally conclude that I'll have to wait until morning. She hangs on the line for another five minutes and we simply chat, and when I hang up I feel oddly bouyant.

The neighborhood that I chose to crash in looks pretty run down, and so I haul out my backpack and fill it with all my hiking gear and anything else I think might be valuable. I stuff the pack to exploding and as I lever it to my shoulders I realize it's pushing sixty pounds. I start my walk through the urban landscape and immediately start feeling the pressure I always feel in the city. It occurs to me that it will be helpful to have some rides the following day and I use that as an excuse to call TB as I trudge.

She answers happily and tells me she is out driving around, trying to relieve the pressure she was feeling in the city, and I tell her that is why I called. From there our conversation ranges all over the place, she in her car and me on my feet. I make it back to the treehouse after 45 minutes of walking and still our conversation soars. After another hour and 45 she arrives at her apartment and we finally reluctantly say our goodnights.

I crawl into bed, think briefly about my poor car abandoned and all the details the morrow will bring, then let that train go. I watch the silhouettes of the leaves as they paint the ceiling, let the memories of Gary and Peter and Shirley mix with the thoughts of my son, and Ad, and all my camping friends. I let it all swirl and finally, finally, when there is nothing left at all in me, I touch the connection I still feel with TB, pull it tight, and fall asleep.

Mating rituals

2005-06-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

Last night I stood at the checkout at my local co-op. I had timed my purchase so it would seem natural that I would choose the line that led to the clerk I've been trying to meet.

She looked in my bag at the mass of lettuce, and as she paused I said "There's two heads of lettuce in there" - she nodded silently and started tapping keys - I continued "I'm trying that on the theory that two heads are better than one". The tapping stopped, and she slowly turned and met my eyes, a big grin forming. "That's funny" she laughed and I happily joined in. Her eyes lit up a little "You remind me of my Dad!".

I groaned "Oh my god, no", and, with wings sheared off I crashed and burned. I kept the happy grin, even improvised something that caused her to laugh again.

But I don't think I'll work very hard to get in that line again.

I've posted bio's on date.com and citypages and gotten a half dozen people expressing interest. I've gone out on two first dates and both women have been interesting and fun to talk to. I didn't have any intense feelings for either of them, and I'm pretty sure they felt that way too. In a way it's a nice re-introduction to dating. I had thought I might become friends with either or both of them as they had both asked if I would be open to that, but there doesn't seem to be much of a follow through - the e-mails and phone calls that preceeded the dates largely have ground to a halt. I'll give each of them another call and then decide on what I might want to do. I'm OK if nothing more happens.

I've been exchanging e-mails with a third woman - she is much more intense about exploring the depths of me and my spirituality, luckily something I truly enjoy talking about. We may be headed for meeting on Monday for a walk, and I'm really looking forward to it. I have no expectations and a friendship would be fine.

It's funny reading what I'm writing because I am really missing lovemaking. Making love is a storytelling - the slow unveiling, the gradual exploration, the growing excitement. I love being naked, twined legs and chest to breasts. I love varying the details of the story - coming up with new creations of physical fantasy, and I adore being surprised in turn. As anyone who reads this blog knows I take my time telling a story, and that's how I like to make love. Give me a long lazy afternoon, or an evening as the candles burn brightly down to puddles of wax. I like to take my time, explore every inch, every position. Pause to talk or silently hold. I want that again, and soon.

I guess I'm a little conflicted as to the goals of my dating, but I don't feel too bad about that. I have been blessed over and over again with finding the things I need, and I have faith that something will happen that will work for me. I *am* curious as to when and how and just a little impatient...

So, I've been out of the dating world for about 10 years - anybody have any suggestions?

Interiors

2005-06-23T05:54:00.000-07:00

I sit at the shell table, watch the leaves silhouette black on the suddenly red blinds. I laugh at yet another small miracle in this place, wonder what pigment in the beige blinds colors the afternoon sun bloody.

The place has become 'The Treehouse' for those who visit here. Leaf rich vista and filtered sun are my daytime companions, shadowy leaves from the landscape light paint my ceiling and my dreams as I lie so peacefully at night.

Summer is here and the windows are closed, but I know come fall the air will again swirl and play in my home.

Green, gold, and sandstone. I planned to build that but was instead gifted. Henry was the first to notice that one wall had a greenish tint that nicely set off the other walls and carpet. His comment came as he sat on my homemade couch.

At 20 years I was broke and the need for money drove me to a weekend job cleaning out a defunct furniture manufacturer. The place was a long abandoned basement and the furniture that remained was buried under sawdust and cobwebs and laced with mildew.

Everything had to be carried up a flight of irregular stairs and at the end of the 20 hours of weekend labor I was given my choice of a couple pieces of furniture and 75 dollars. I was ecstatic about the latter and a bit bemused by the former. I finally took two foldout bed mechanisms and an enormous solid oak table, round on a pedestal. I needed a table for the mobile home I'd bought, and I thought it would be nice to have a foldout bed to give me more floor space when company called.

The table fit but barely, and I was able to store one bed mechanism at my parents. The other mechanism sat on the bedroom floor, accomplishing the exact opposite of my initial intent. Following the logic of desperation I designed a couch in my head that I could make from scrap 2x8's that I had found, and over the course of several weeks I glued up random pieces and borrowed tools to make the frame. I spent four dollars on stain and lags and had a serviceable couch albeit with no cushions.

It served as my bed for a couple days. My parents, always a source of entertainment for my destitute loneliness, called me one night and invited me to Penneys outlet store - free transportation and something to do appealed and I found myself wandering around the store. I was drawn far to the back and a pile of dust covered plastic plucked at my attention - some blowing and sneezing cleared the dust enough to see it was a set of cushions, gold and cream. I found a clerk and negotiated a price I could afford - three dollars. Arriving home I found the cushions fit perfectly and matched the already applied stain.

I tell Henry this story from my perch in one of my matched gold easy chairs. A little farther along in my 20's and I no longer starved for cash. I felt rich, although my current self laughs at that notion. Kirk, my best friend from grade school had been slowly spiraling into a terrible life of alcoholism, and I offered him a place to stay and get well - I thought that a life free of the stress of working and providing for himself would allow him to focus on his problem, and in a way it did.

The spiral tightened dramatically and after 18 months of excess he finally was caught committing a felony and fled the state. The two gold easy chairs that he came with remained and I decided to keep them, both as a cautionary note for myself and because they so perfectly matched the gold threads and tint of the couch.

The brass bowl in the center of the shell table picks up the red from the blinds and draws my attention - memories of Henry fade as I touch the shells lying in the bowl.

On April Fools I wrote about some mysterious shells I had found, and though the end of the story was fabricated, the odd appearance of the shells halfway up a cliff was both real and confusing. Over time I've come to believe the shells fell from a limestone cliff that towers above the trail.

Two days before I moved into the apartment I was obsessing about how to get the enormous oak table relocated and I was dismayed at how much of the apartment space it would take up. I didn't feel I had any options because I didn't want to be spending money right then and what little I did have I was going to use to buy chairs - another issue that was niggling away at me.

My poison ivy was receding but somewhere in the scratching I'd managed to pick up an infection in my elbow which flared in the middle of the night to hot skin and the bone ache I've come to associate with dire threat. I couldn't find an open urgent care and didn't want to go to emergency and so I decided on an old home remedy.

I boiled up some water, laced it with tea trea oil, and slowly parboiled my arm. After the first few seconds I was delirious with the pain and managed some sort of meditation that allowed me to keep my elbow in the near boiling water for 45 minutes.

The bone ache went away and though the arm was bright red it no longer screamed, and I went to bed relieved. A few hours later I woke when my fever broke and I retained a vivid image of a chair I had been dreaming of. My only thought was "That would be perfect for the apartment", and then I fell back to sleep.

The morning dawned cool and breezy with the sun bright yellow in the dry air, and I rose early for a long walk in a park well outside the city. The park is an enormous oasis of trees in a region of endless prairie, and I walked for miles in silent appreciation. The trail topped a hill and I noticed a pool of sun in the midst of ferns swirling in the breeze. I stood in the sun, looked at the blue filtering through waving leaves, breathed the scent of wood and foliage, raised my arms and chanted a prayer of thanks and expressed a desire for ongoing joy. I sunk into the moment, then a long while later slowly lowered my arms and gaze.

Between my feet was a shell, exactly like the shell I'd found in April in a park over 100 miles away. This park has no cliffs, and the only water was well over a mile away. Again I had no explanation and as I picked up the shell I simply laughed with the wonder of it all and the happiness persisted as I finished my hike.

Later that day I brought my son to a gathering at a park, and when lunch arrived I found there was nothing green for me to eat, so I left my son with friends and took off on my bike to go pick up something. It took longer than I wanted and so I was riding back to the park at full speed when something plucked at my attention as I passed a hedge. I whipped my head around and was shaken to catch a glimpse through the hedge of the chair of my dreams of the night before. It was so unexpected and I was in such a hurry I rode on and rejoined my son.

Hours passed and the two of us were walking home and I realized we were near the hedge, so we detoured and I found that the chair along with three others and a small solid oak round pedestal table was being offered for sale for $225. I loved the table and chairs but didn't feel I could afford it as I already owned a table, so I half-heartedly made an offer of $150 and left them my phone number. They didn't seem interested.

Later they called and told me the set was mine and I went and picked it up. As I was carrying the table balanced on my head up the steep part of my driveway I heard my son who was following behind proclaim "Daddy, there's a shell in the driveway". I was a little shocked at the synchronicity of that but I couldn't look because my head was locked to my shoulders by the weight of the table, so I kept walking into the dark garage. I eased the table down and my son darted around me, did something and said "Daddy, your new table is the shell table!".

I turned on the garage light and found that my son had set the walnut shell he'd found dead in the center of the table - the table I sit at now, the table that matches the chairs and the couch and the room.

I'm on the right path.

Here's looking at you!

2005-06-21T04:38:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've responded to comments on my posts. Frankly it is all I can do to even write the posts right now, but it is just simply wrong to not acknowledge all the generous and wonderful things that have been said.

Melody - there isn't a person more opposite from me in the entire world, but somehow we've formed a solid friendship. Thank you for the support and letting me be a guest blogger on your site. Of course my post seems to have tanked your blog for the day - something had to slow you down!

Nicky - your friendship, supportive comments, and excellent advice have helped me tremendously. Folks, if you like the photos on this blog, go see Nicky's pictures - she has an incredible eye for nature and art photography - absolutely wonderful work.

Minerva, I've had a bit of a time following your various incarnations but I think I can spot the writing style - you are unique! Your writing is poetic and pointed, and I've so appreciated your presence here.

Jay - I really liked your comment that souls were fragments of a larger single soul. There is a resonance to that thought and I will spend time on my walks thinking about the implications. A part of me believes that something so beautiful has to be true somewhere.

Lu - If I can ever stop orbiting my center and get back to occupying it, I plan on spending a lot more time visiting your site. I've really appreciated your comments and the fun things you've said. Thanks!

Pearl - thank you for taking the time to tell me your thinking. At the moment I'm opposed to any relationship that requires significant work, as your comment seems to imply, because the relationship I've just gotten out of was a more than full time job. I'm willing to work on my next one but I need to have something far more than just being in a relationship to motivate me. I do love the notion of exploring each other...

Leanne - Nature photographer and artist and almost my neighbor! Well, at least by blog standards. Thank you for your comments and stopping by...

kenju - you sound like you have a lot more to say on this subject, and I wish you would. Thanks for your comment!

Dani - Thank you for letting me know you are out there - I've been reading your blog and love what you have to say...

xtessa and Ally - Wow, I never expected anyone to actually offer some proof that my thoughts may be relevant... Thanks so much!

... I had thought to go right down the list and thank everyone but I don't think I'd realized how long it's been since I responded to comments. I think I'm going to need to focus more of my energy on that. I finally, finally, had a moment of centeredness yesterday so I'm hoping I will be able to communicate easily again sometime soon.

I want to end with this quote included in a comment from phoenix - this is so appropriate and parts of it are just beautiful. Thank you.

"Love therefore—the most beautiful phenomenon in the soul-filled creation, the omnipotent magnet in the spiritual world, the source of devotion and of the most sublime virtue—Love is only the reflection of this single original power, an attraction of the excellent, grounded upon an instantaneous exchange of the personality, a confusion of the beings.

When I hate, so take I something from myself; when I love, so become I so much the richer, by what I love. Forgiveness is the recovery of an alienated property - hatred of man a prolonged suicide; egoism the highest poverty of a created being."

--Friedrich von Schiller

Flying Free

2005-06-12T19:05:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about relationships for the last several months. For a long time all that I wanted was to be single again. I believed I could never really be happy with anyone because the things that I believe and feel just didn't seem to make sense to anyone else.

Then I met TB, and found that there are other people like me, and more recently I noticed a couple I described way back in this post.

It's gotten me thinking about what I think relationships are really about, and what I would like to have if I ever find myself in a relationship again.

I think the glows and symbols I see floating around people are their essence - I think for my purposes I will call it a soul. I believe in most cases a soul needs to work through the body to form connections. I suspect that the souls attachment points or focal points are the chakras, and I wouldn't be surprised if the types of relationships that are possible correspond to the characteristics of chakras. I haven't really followed that line of thought much, but something about it rings true to me.

I think the notion that the soul is trying to make it's connections through the filter of the body explains a lot of the grief I see in relationships. The body has eons of evolutionary programming and often operates in survival mode. Part of what a real relationship is about is giving up some of yourself, and the body fights that notion.

It seems like many of the things I strive for, an orderly mind, greater sensitivity and connection to the deeper levels of the world around me, noble behavior - it seems like all these things could be construed as trying to let my soul have a more pure ability to connect to things.

I think the two couples I've seen with similar glows have somehow managed to join their souls. In the case of the red couple in the park, something about them tells me the connection is not the result of them working very hard to free their souls. The fact that their glows feel and look so similar to me leads me to guess that they are truly the same and somehow meant for each other. I'm guessing this sort of connection is extremely rare.

In the case of Gedda and Sylvia, their glows felt and looked a little different. Hers was a little smoother and more golden, his rougher and weathered toward gray. My sense is that when they were together their glows merged in a way that I can't really visualize anymore, although I dimly have a sense memory of the swirl and interplay. It felt like they were making slow love whenever they were near one another.

I think in their case they had done a lot of soul work. I didn't talk much to Sylvia, but Gedda had a lot of stories to tell of his life and it seemed to me that he had always been soulful but had had a long journey to become the peaceful and joyful person he was at the time I met him.

For the last several weeks I haven't been able to be centered in any meaningful way - it isn't that I'm off center, it's that I'm completely fragmented. In one way it's nice because I'm unable to sustain any long term negative feelings, but I miss my feelings of connected joy and celebration of nature.

On Monday I was walking out in Afton, a park an hours drive from my apartment. The sun was low on the horizon and had that extra tone that makes the greens in the grass look lush and rich and the shadows velvety deep. The butterflies played and birdsong was everywhere, yet the deer and rabbits ran from me long before I could get near them and while I appreciated the beauty I didn't feel a part of it.

I walked in this state for a while, then realized I'd been having a sense of warmth and connection with earlier times in my life. As I thought about it further I realized these memories of feelings were being evoked by the scents of the prairie and wood, and as I breathed more deeply I realized that I'd never smelled anything quite like what I was smelling. While the scent was nothing like vanilla, it had that wonderful warmth that vanilla communicates - something like the warmth of real butter melting on your tongue. It was incredible and my sense of what was happening was that I was being taken care of, therapied, by the trees and plants that I was walking through.

I had an incredible rush of love and affection - I felt wonderfully rewarded and grateful for the gift Afton was sharing with me. I guess I don't know why Afton takes care of me, but I feel the relationship is something mutual, and I think that it is a pure connection of souls.

I truly believe I am one of the lucky people that can have a soul to soul relationship. I don't necessarily need that to have the life of joy and inspiration that I desire, but I think it would add a lot.

I think the reason a soul joins a body is to have experiences the soul alone can't have. I think with a soul to soul connection each soul will have two bodies experiences to draw on - two sets of eyes, ears, and all.

I wrote that latter paragraph without any thought, but now that I read what I wrote I realize I have proof of being able to tap into another persons senses. The thing that held my wife and I together for so long was the physical connection, and at times of intense passion I'm able to very specifically feel what my wife is feeling and wanting. It's a source of great joy for me and I think it creates a lot of pleasure for my partner. I've always longed for the connection to flow more strongly the other way. I'd love for my partner to feel what I'm feeling. I can imagine that if both partners were experiencing each others feelings there would be a multiplying of feelings - not just an adding. Echoes of each other reflecting to infinity.

Whew! I need a moment...

I think I'll end this now - I know I need to wave my hands around and talk really loudly to make any of this work, but I think I may have stumbled on to something. What do you think?

Coming home

2005-06-04T18:47:00.000-07:00

I look at my swollen hand, still throbbing from being smashed between moving trailer and garage. It looks a bit ominous and I wonder if I'll be centered enough to perform my clearing ceremony. Poison ivy, stubbed toe, smashed hand, the physical damage grows and I know that I'm far from harmony. I worry that it means I'm going the wrong direction but then think of all the small synchronicities in finding and furnishing the apartment, all the friends that have suddenly reappeared, and I know I am on the right path, strange though it may be.

I turn the knob on the stove and love the flame. Too long I've tried to cook with electric burners and I look forward to making my own food again. I hold the sage wand in the flame, admire the blue and red binding, colors I normally have little connection with. It's good symbolism for a new beginning, an opening of doors to new things.

Rich smoke curls up, swirls towards the cabinet and then dips and forms a circle. The apartment is breezy and the smoke takes full advantage of the live air. I've fallen into a profound meditative state, and my hands move of their own volition - right hand tracing the lines of the cabinets and walls, left hand holding a brass bowl inlaid with gold and red glaze, a gift from my grandma long ago.

I hold the thought of my grandma, remember how welcome everyone always felt in her presence. I try to bring that feeling to my ceremony and will the smoke throughout the room. I slowly spiral along the walls, getting to know the space and letting the space become comfortable with me.

I arrive back at the stove and with a final prayer I lay the wand in a vase, companion to the bowl I set beside it.

I pick up a sweet grass braid and push my desire for friends new and old to feel at home in my new dwelling, then with a flourish I tack it to the outside of my door.

This place, this airy space floating in the treetops, feels good. It isn't my home, but it is a place I can grow and open myself to new possibilities. And maybe, just maybe, the home I always have longed for will come to me.

First night

2005-05-31T11:43:00.000-07:00

I'm free!

Pushing through

2005-05-17T12:54:00.000-07:00

I watched a porcupine climb a pine tree last night. A porcupine isn't graceful, isn't fast, and isn't inspiring in any traditional sense of the word. He simply grunts and tugs his way up the tree. It gets the job done.

Most times when I write I put pen to paper and simply let my thoughts flow. In general I believe in flowing through life, positioning myself in the current so that I find the things I desire.

I haven't been flowing this last week, or if I have it's been through a patch of whitewater. Trying to blog about it has been a chore, but like a porcupine putting quill to tree and forcing his way upward, I'm going to put quill to paper and force this post outward.

One would think a pending divorce would be trial enough - oddly, that is going pretty smoothly. I chose an apartment last Wednesday and it did strange things to my head. I entered a fragmented and somewhat black state of mind which persisted till Thursday night.

Thursday night I parked my car in a parking lot which screamed danger to me, a perverse attraction in my frame of mind. I walked 11 miles in a freezing rain which blackened me further and when I got to my car it was with a sense of dark satisfaction that I found my tire was knifed.

The satisfaction lifted my spirits because it gave me something tangible to deal with, and I impulsively called TB on the drive back into town. Our connection and friendship shown through on that conversation and I've been lofted by it ever since.

I've got a poison ivy rash that now covers over 75% of my body. It takes all of my hard won thought control not to rake myself with my fingernails till there is nothing left of me. Sometimes I can divorce myself enough from my body to be amazed by the potency of the plant.

It just rains and rains and rains.

I've only two weeks left to live in a house I've expended vast amounts of money and effort on. It's never been my home, but it's an odd feeling nonetheless. I can't characterize it very well.

The further I get from my relationship with my wife the more certain I am that a divorce is the right course. I already feel completely disconnected from her and it doesn't feel bad. I'm looking forward to living alone in the apartment.

The apartment is on the third floor and there are tree tops outside the big windows. The light coming through the apartment was lovely when I looked it over, although the carpet and walls were an awful neutral color.

I saved my hand made furniture when I moved in with my wife and I'll take it with me to the apartment. I'll decorate with framed photography, some old knick knacks, and plants in front of the windows. My goal is to color the light with green, gold, and sandstone hues - these colors mean peace and joy to me and that is how I want to live from now on.

I'm excited and looking forward to the next phase of my life.

I think I've clawed my way to the end of this post. It's a pretty nice view from here...

Wind Water Rock Rain

2005-05-10T05:41:00.000-07:00

Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain.

I subtly shifted my intonation, tried to match the resonance in the back of my throat with the slight echoes from the rock cradling the waterfall.

Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain

I straightened my back, balanced my crossed legs and settled into the ancient stone.

Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain

I found it - found the swelling of sound I needed and held the chant.

Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain

I shifted my attention to my palms, upturned to catch the thundering rain. I narrowed my focus, only the palms, only the rain.

The drops fell rapidly, each with it's own character, heavy soft warm, sharp small hard, little snaps, huge smacks.

I held my focus, pushed all else aside.

Wind Water Rock Rain

Little thoughts tapped, trying to get back in, and the R's in my chant morphed to W's. I lost it, lost my focus, and the moments of my week came rushing back in.

There has been joy. My wife and I have had moments where we see a vision of the two of us happy and strong, complete people, able to relate to each other in positive ways. She understands that she needs to become strong by herself, and that I can't help her. I find that exciting and wish with all my heart for her success.

I can envision her that way, facing the future boldly and with faith, and I realize that even if she is strong and healthy we still have no common vision of how to live our lives. I've separated myself emotionally from her and the distance gives me the perspective to see how wrong we are together.

We've verbally agreed on custodial, financial, and social issues in the last week. We have both been civil and have occasionally come up with brilliant solutions to some of our concerns. I'm proud of the two of us.

I've had to take a crash course in apartment renting - I've never done that before and I'm constrained to trying to find a place within my budget, within walking distance, and with an opening in the next month. I've had help from TB who is an expert and in theory I am well prepared. Today I'll set up appointments and possibly start bargaining to see if I can cut a deal. I need something relatively nice since my son will be living there with me half of the time.

My mind is frequently fractured with the enormity of the emotions of this time. It's odd to try to handle the myriad of details that crop up in this separation when my mind is always drifting off in strange directions. Life goes on and I think I'm doing OK with things.

Wind Water Rock

Rain

Ephemeral

2005-05-03T07:19:00.000-07:00

The weeks long blanket of clouds blew away last night and I followed my feelings to hike in a flood plain between limestone cliffs.

The light filtered through the tiny new leaves on the awakening trees and gently lit the blossoms covering the valley floor.

At this time of year there is a short period, a couple days at most, where the ground isn't frozen and the leaves are not yet out. In heavily wooded areas a class of flowers bloom in this period - appropriately enough they are called ephemerals. The blossoms and the light on the forest floor combine to make a transcendent beauty, made all the more poignant by the rarity of the time.

The long winter of my marriage is over.

On Saturday night I told my wife I thought we should begin the process of separating our lives. Her first reaction was arguing and telling me all the things wrong about my request. Later, spent, we comforted each other and I found myself crying, great shuddering barks of pain racking my body and she held me and tried to tell me it would be all right.

We've started working out the details, talking about financial issues and most importantly how to continue loving and supporting our children as parents who just can't live together.

I feel really close to her - this blossoming of emotion is beautiful and rewarding, and yet I know it is as ephemeral as the flowers I so gently walked through last night. It is a time to be treasured and then let go.

We've stated our goals: I want us to be friends and mutually supporting champions of our children, living separately and probably with new partners. She wants to take this time to figure out what has gone wrong and try to remake our relationship into something more equal and viable. We both agree that a new start is desperately needed for both of us.

I'm happy with either outcome, although I have no hope for the latter and I've told her that often enough in the last days that she knows I'm not playing games.

I'm breathing easier than I have for a long time, even though sadness lurks in every remembrance.

I let the sadness flow through me, let it touch me but not hold me. It is as ephemeral as everything else.

Precession

2005-04-29T07:54:00.000-07:00

pre·ces·sion

A slow gyration of the earth's axis around the pole of the ecliptic, caused mainly by the gravitational pull of the sun, moon, and other planets on the earth's equatorial bulge.

I have no fixed course right now. I've had good hours and bad. I feel pulled in all directions. This is good - if I can keep fluid, become comfortable with being uncomfortable as my friend Nicky says, the forces that are most important will manifest themselves.

Spin a top - it will spin and wobble in all directions, but slowly, so slowly, it will tend in the direction of the dominant force.

The path it takes is important. The places it visits will affect the journey and the ultimate destination.

Nicky tells me I need clarity and Corky tells me I need to fully explore the possibilities at this point. I trust both of them and I sense that both of them are right. I nail down the things I know are true and try to stay uncommitted on the rest, try to enjoy what I can and tolerate everything else.

I can tell I'm heading for a period of mental diffraction - I can feel my analytic focus going. I've set the wheels in motion to hire an assistant so my workplace does not suffer because of me.

I realize that action highlights a truth I can nail down. I need to live my life ethically - through this time and throughout my life I need to make decisions I am proud of.

My wife has entered the bargaining stage. She feels she can change to be the person I can love. I want to encourage her to make changes because she has always been terribly unhappy, but I need her to understand she has to make them to meet her own needs, not mine. A tiny part of me is excited about the possibility of staying with my wife but I think it's unlikely. Fluid. The top will visit but probably move on.

I realize I want to try to help her see this as a beginning, that we can celebrate the past we shared and move forward toward a better future as people who have grown by knowing each other. I would really love to have her find happiness and then find someone who can take joy in all the wonderful qualities she has.

TB. ouch. Corky thinks she is an agent of change in my life to help me move forward, but that ultimately she isn't the one for me. I thought that as well when I first started having feelings toward her. It's a common enough phenomenon. It's so easy to seduce yourself, so easy to believe someone is perfect for you when you are looking for an escape.

I won't deny that's impossible, and in fact I will probably come to believe that was the case if nothing comes of my desires to be with TB (as looks likely at the present), but there truly is more.

I've talked with her for many hours now and at the moment I can't think of anything I really disagree with her on. I've never been with anyone for more than 20 minutes where I've felt that way. As anyone who has read this blog knows I'm not exactly typical in what I feel and believe.

I've decided that I'll let her know my feelings when the time is right. I'll try to assure her that my feelings are mine and she has no responsibility for them. I'll try to paint things as a positive. Maybe it will work. Regardless, at least I will be able to let go of TB if that is the way the top spins.

The pictures on this post aren't indicative of anything other than to reassure myself that there will always be beauty and miracles for me. That is a truth that will never change regardless of where the top travels.

Vortex

2005-04-26T04:29:00.000-07:00

The clouds piled black on black, mist mountains blocking out the afternoon sun. The weather site had shown no break in the clouds anywhere within hundreds of miles. I once again had a moment of doubt but drove on, the earlier vision of walking in sun still echoing in my head.

Through the rain smeared windshield I saw a line of light in the clouds, far off, and I smiled. I laughed at myself and pretended to scoff at the sureness deep inside that the line was my expected sunlight.

The line disappeared as I drove the last thirty miles and as I was dressing for my hike in the empty parking lot I started ridiculing myself for my earlier surety. An ill defined shadow pooled at my feet as I was lacing my boots, and the sheen of water on tar started to sparkle. The shadow abruptly firmed to blackness and I looked up to a brilliant sun framed in a narrow line of blue sky surrounded by gray masses of clouds.

The trees at the edge of the parking lot were vibrant green in the yellow sunlight and the contrast against the black of the thunderheads pulled the breath from my body. I thought of my camera but then let myself be drawn into the moment, let all thought go to become a part of the pocket universe of light and tree.

The light shifted and the yellow became a little watery but held. I finished dressing and threw on my pack, grabbed my poles and climbed the trail out of the parking lot. The trail wound through terminal moraine and for the most part was wet but not muddy. The trees dripped and the air was heavy - the sun curled weakly through the mists but occasionally strengthened to dramatically highlight a scene.

I ghosted along, unwilling to disturb the magic of the moment, and the miles passed in inner and outer quiet.

If only I could hold that feeling.

This morning I sit in my office. It's quiet here too, but not calm. Tears hover at the edges of my eyes and my heart races. My stomach knots and twists and I feel an odd torquing in my head as if there is a whirlpool in there trying to suck me down.

Long ago I said I would stay in my marriage for the sake of my son, and at the time I believed that. I've examined that proposition over and over, alone and with several of my friends, and I've come to the belief that the lesser evil is for me to separate from my wife.

I talked with my wife the other night and told her with all the kindness I could muster that I don't love her and that I was finding it hard to be around her. She wanted to know the things that were pushing me away so that she could change, and I told her I didn't want her to change, that she was fine the way she was, and that we just were not meant for each other. She didn't seem to hear me and she started probing me for evidence of things that tied us together. I'm trying to be honest and so when asked, I told her I did feel a connection to her when we are having sex.

Predictably, we ended up in a marathon lovemaking session, and I really did feel connected to her while that went on. I always have, but it's not enough.

Strangely, the bad feelings I'm having don't have anything to do with my marriage drama. Over the last six months I have had to unlearn many of my base assumptions about the sanctity of marriage, but I have learned them and I now realize that a divorce isn't the end of the world. In many cases it is a beginning, and I feel that for me this ending of our relationship is a process that I feel relatively comfortable with.

My goal is to end my marriage and to try to do it with as much grace and compassion for my wife and son as I can practically manage. I want to have at least shared custody and will go for full custody if my wife is willing - I doubt she is.

The vortex, the thing that is literally threatening my being, is TB. She seems to be avoiding me, or at least not making any effort to have contact with me. Either case does not bode well and it shakes me to my core. I strongly believe that my feelings are my responsibility and I don't want to burden her with my drama, and so I feel ethically constrained to not afflict her with my needs.

TB has always made me feel stronger and more joyful - for a long time I never considered her as available to me and so I simply appreciated how she made me feel. As I've contemplated ending my marriage I have always been careful to keep TB out of my considerations, except for the fact that TB has taught me that real love exists and I am not serving anyone's interests in staying in a loveless marriage.

It is ironic that at a time I need strength I am letting my fears about TB weaken me rather than using the strength TB has fostered in me. I'm not proud of myself right now.

...

I know how to swim at right angles to this current. I know how to avoid the whirlpool and wait for the next miracle to pull me out...

...

...but right now, right now in this moment, I am scared and in pain, and I can barely see the screen to type through all the tears...

Wing and a prayer

2005-04-22T06:56:00.000-07:00

A bit over a week ago I was trying to find some equilibrium, trying to find a point of stability in an emotional landscape that had gone from slowly rising to precipitously descending. I headed for a rock filled park, slowly drawing peace from the stone and cold weeping rain. Thought seeped away and after a while I could walk in simple appreciation of bird song and the textures of rock and pine.

I entered a clearing in the trees to join a grouping of deer. Without leaving my still center I asked one to pay heed, locked eyes with her, and talked of my needs and wishes. I spread out, tried to quell her small fears and help her find peace in this moment, in the muted drizzle of the rain and the gentle whisper of pine needles in the wind. She lowered her head to graze and as I passed beside her I gave her a message to pass on when the time came, then left the clearing to climb a tall hill.

The peak jutted above the tree tops and the wind blew fierce. The gentle rain was transformed into something more demanding and the harshness of the moment filled a need deep within me.

I sat down and folded my legs, sunk into my center and watched the tree branches toss below me. Abruptly the wind gusted then waned and the rain dripped to a halt. A heron flew around the edges of the hill and landed in a tree top nest. Vultures drifted in loose circles enjoying the passing of the rain and small birds started tossing songs to each other.

The feeling of transformation compelled me to form a prayer, let my words tell the world and myself what direction I needed to go. I pressed my hands flat on the stone beside me, tried to pull the rock into me.

"Oh ancient stone, I ask for strength to make it through this time. Let me have the courage to feel things deeply, let me feel pain but rise above it. Let me grow from my experiences as I walk this world. Thank you earth, for all you have given me".

I lifted my hands from the rock, intending to slowly raise them to the air. I meant to say "Oh birds of the air", but what I heard myself say was "Oh great bird of the air".

Immediately upon the word "air" a mature bald eagle flew directly over my right shoulder, probably less than two feet away from my ear. I could hear the air rushing along his feathers and I could see every detail of him. About three feet in front of my face he did one lazy flap of his wings and then he glided off to the horizon, disappearing as he cleared the trees.

Bald eagles don't do that. They don't like people, with good reason.

I had the presence of mind to hold myself in that still place, let the adrenaline feed the joy I had been feeling. I channeled the excitement, let it strengthen my prayer to the air, then water, then sun peeking shyly through the cloud.

I know I have been given something amazing. Maybe it was something big, maybe it was as simple as the message that life is surprising and wonderful, that life rewards those who are actively living.

And maybe it is just this - that twelve days later I can think on that moment and feel immense hope and joy in the rememberance, and that I can share this hope and joy with all who read this...

Riffle

2005-04-18T07:52:00.000-07:00

The rain washed sunlight pulls us forward along the newly greened path and the dark night of rain and hard rememberance is receding into the past. Our conversation moves forward and backward in time, pausing on the present to comment on the beauty of the chert outcroppings lining this stream cut valley and the sense of stillness counterpointed by the soft burbling of the stream.

I flirt with the white butterflies, at peace enough not to tell Corky and Henry their significance to me. They flit and flutter and play around me and then suddenly disappear as one, their small message delivered. I laugh to myself and then jump back into the moment.

Another miracle has happened this weekend. We have done the normal guy thing of drinking and eating too much, and we have insulted each other and wisecracked and laughed endlessly, but we have also shared our deepest stories - shared them without thought of protecting ourselves. The level of trust given and received seems boundless, and I feel so utterly rewarded by my friendship with these two.

What a special time! There isn't any reason to expect it won't happen again, and that in itself is a wonderful thing.

I have little fear of my future. Changes are in store but I know I have friends I can trust and rely on, and this peace I feel inside seems to grow a little every day.

How are the rest of you doing? Is anyone else finding miracles?

Right Turn, Clyde

2005-04-14T04:22:00.000-07:00

I've realized I'm not able to write the story I started in my last post yet. I'm having trouble getting the significance of the time put into prose - I can see the flow of events in my mind and how the little currents pushed and pulled me, but I can't detail it yet in a way that makes the significant things obvious. I'll go back to it in a while.

I thought things were slowly deepening with TB and I was terribly hurt when she let me know that she intended to move far away in 18 months and as far as I could tell she had never considered how it would affect me. Actually that's not quite true - in retrospect I've realized she thought I would be happy for her, which is a reasonable expectation since it is now obvious she considers me as just a friend. I've always been excited for her whenever she pursues an opportunity for growth, and I'm guessing I hurt her when I reacted in fear rather than support.

Tonight I'll call her and apologize for my fear and let her know I'm happy for her. I've started working on my head to move her out of the romantic category and into the friend category so I can make that statement true. No matter what the reality is, it will be good for me to adopt a more stable stance.

I've gotten wonderful support from my far flung friends Melody, Nicky, and Corky. Melody has been entertaining me and keeping me from sinking, Nicky has been writing beautiful prose about relationships that keeps me hopeful and moving forward, and Corky has made me think about what the realities are as well as providing me with hope for my future. I don't think I can say how deeply I've been affected by your friendships - suffice it to say that I am overwhelmingly grateful.

Tomorrow I'll see Corky for the first time in a year - we both have had monumental changes in our lives and it will be interesting to see how those changes have manifested themselves. Corky, my cousin-in-law Henry, and myself have been going camping spring and fall for many years now and Corky missed his first one last October. I was afraid I would never see him again which made me sad, but events conspired and now our friendship is much stronger than ever. There is a lesson there.

Henry is married to my cousin Reb - it seems like he has been my true friend forever although I think it's closer to 12 years. He and Reb were destined to meet, a story I would like to tell on my blog as an example of the machinations of fate - I'll ask him tomorrow if he minds. Reb and I were probably born identical (well, other than that small little sex thing...) but diverged as our lives progressed. At the base level we still feel largely the same about things and it is obvious to me why Henry and Reb are together.

Henry, Corky, and I start drinking and talking from the moment we converge on our camping spot and we don't stop either until we part a couple days later. There is some 'guy' talk but there is a lot more and I am incredibly excited about the upcoming weekend.

When TB moves away she will be another of my far flung friends. I'm hoping the closeness I feel for her continues and grows, as it has with all the other friends I've talked about in this post.

So, how far away are your closest friends?

Winds of change

2005-04-09T11:10:00.000-07:00

August had been cold and I'd already packed away my air conditioner for the winter. Predictably September served up a warm day and as I opened my bedroom window a dry breeze rustled through and I felt a sense of something unfullfilled and an odd hint of anticipation.

It took me by surprise. For eight years I'd raced from office to home and back, never allowing anything unexpected in my life. I chased the feeling, tried to pin it down but it faded and left only a vague restlessness. I went to my computer and tried to get back into coding but I wasn't able to focus.

I got up, wandered into my living room. Gold light filtered through the drapes and called me outside and I grabbed my keys, then threw them back to the table. I needed to walk.

The sun was too bright for my office accustomed eyes, and my feet instantly hurt. I hadn't done this in a very long time. I knew this feeling and didn't want it. I wanted control of my life.

Despite the pain my feet led me through a dense oak forest and out the far side. White butterflies twined round each other, momentarily lighting on purple blossoms then flitting back for another partnering.

The early fall sounds of insect whir and bird song didn't occupy my mind and again I searched for the source of my unrest. I didn't feel unhappy. I liked this monkish life, liked delving into the esetorica of algorithms and coding.

My path curved round and I popped out of a woods near the local grocery store. Following an impulse I went inside and bought a newspaper - Sunday, September 16th, 1990. I walked back to my house, threw the paper on the table and began paging through it, reading stories and finding nothing that addressed the odd feeling. I found the personals and started to read but immediately knew I was not even a little interested in a relationship and so I moved to the jobs section.

A couple of ads piqued my interest and I examined the feeling. I loved my current job but it left me with a lot of free time. Maybe I'd like having a second job? It would be nice to have a little extra money. I typed up a resume and a couple of cover letters and walked back to the grocery store to mail them.

The restless feeling was appeased a little but I still needed something so I bought supplies for a picnic and went back to the private little meadow. I sat and ate quietly, listening to the birds and watching the butterflies. Slowly I noticed the silence in my mind - no thoughts of code to write, no unhappy memories, no music playing. The butterflies floated closer, circling my head and a vagary of the breeze pushed one near enough that I felt a wing kiss my cheek.

Old thoughts of signs and fate bubbled below the surface and I abruptly gathered the remains of my lunch and marched back to my house. Only facts. Life is what it is. It's all explainable and all these feelings are just remnants of memory and poor perception.

Angrily I forced my attention back to the computer screen and slowly let the structure of the code seduce me. My mind flattened, the pleasure of pure thought triumphing over the welter of feeling.

Far out, beyond the horizon, the wind plotted my fate.

Happily humbled

2005-04-05T13:55:00.000-07:00

"We can climb that" I commented to Ad's butt as I gazed through the windshield at the wall of rock jutting from the desert.

His reply was muffled as it came from the back seat "I know we can climb it but we don't have time. We need to be in Phoenix to catch a flight tomorrow and it's at least a six hour drive".

He started to get back in the passengers seat and I jacked the brake playfully "I saw a rabbit!". He bounced around a little and glared at my happy smile. "I don't want to climb that!".

"My day to drive" I pronounced and pulled the car up to a faint trail. Ad bounced out, said "I grabbed all the beer" and started up the trail after stopping to look at an old map tacked to a twisted cedar.

I popped the trunk, grabbed my backpack and tried to catch up with Ad. He was moving up the trail fast and I didn't catch him till we'd climbed to the top.

The view was astonishing. South the desert stretched well into Mexico and the sparse vegetation was in bloom. From our height the colors smeared and blotched and looked like an abstract painting on a brick red canvas. To the north the rock folded and dipped in eye confounding complexity.

Ad was finishing a beer "Want one?". "Nope" I replied "We've got a long drive and I don't want a one beer headache". We looked some more and Ad started toward the far side of the rock wall.

"Ad, what are you doing? The car is back that way". "It's a loop trail" he replied and took off heading down. Again he moved fast and I didn't catch him till he was at the bottom.

Ad was looking at the trail ahead as it headed back up the wall. I gave him a look and he said "I need another beer". I watched him drink it and then said "Give me one. I'm going to need it to climb back up - that's got to be 900 feet tall". Ad replied "Not bad, the map said 850. I just drank the last beer".

I glared at him again and started back up the way we'd came. "What are you doing? It's a loop" Ad called as he headed the other way.

I didn't really want to follow him but I also didn't want to have to find the idiot as he wandered the desert so I turned to follow him. He wasn't moving as fast but neither was I and I was starting to feel dehydrated.

The top was a long time in coming and when I arrived Ad was looking straight down. I joined him and looked down the sheer cliff at our car. "Got a parachute?" I asked and then laughed at him "Loop! I'm guessing you didn't notice the topo lines on the map, huh?".

He was embarrassed and didn't say anything as I pulled off my backpack and pulled out a beer I had left over from an earlier hike. I drank it slowly and with relish, took a look in my pack and gave Ad a satisfied smile as I slung it on my back.

The walk back down, then up, then down was painful but wonderfully satisfying as Ad's humbled silence stretched out.

We didn't get to Phoenix till midnight.

The morning after

2005-04-01T13:39:00.000-08:00

Last nights hike started eerily enough with brilliant yellow clouds hanging saucerlike over the sandstone canyon.

A strong wind blew but the clouds didn't move, the only change a brightening then darkening of hues as the sun moved farther down the sky.

I hiked a mud slick path, slowly working my way up a sidewall and at the crest pausing to look straight down at a swollen river 100 feet below. The wind moaned an odd sound and I abruptly started back down the cliff. The recent snow melt had turned the trail to gumbo and in the waning light I saw a lone footprint sunk deeply in the mud. Two shells lay lightly in the tread.

I looked to the river but it was at least fifty feet below. I looked up the cliff and it was smooth - no evidence of other embedded shells. The edge of the footprint was still crumbling and there were no other prints on the narrow trail.

Warily I looked around, then touched the shells to be sure I wasn't imagining things. They were real and I had no explanation.

I hurried down the trail to the river and as I expected the stepping stones were well below the surface of the snowmelt swollen waters. I quickly removed my boots and hiking socks and pulled on a pair of old heavy woolen socks. The water coursed through the wool as I waded and the cold felt good, then painful, and then I was across. On the far side I hurriedly dried my feet, stuffed them back in my boots, and headed up the far cliff.

I stopped at a cantilever of rock jutted far above the tree tops. I flung a handful of sand into the wind and prayed for the quick joining of earth with air, wished on a star, then hurried to my car and drove to my house.

I arrived late in the hopes of an uneventful escape to sleep, but the door opened to an angry wife, and it was only after an eternity that I was allowed release. At the edge of slumber I prayed one last time that my wishes might come true...

Birds outside the window woke me to a bright sunny morn, and I was immediately aware that something was different. The breathing - her breathing was different. I turned and found her there, eyes slowly opening and a smile forming.

"TB!" I stammered "Where... What... Where is...". My little boy slammed through the door and popped into the bed. "Hi Mommy, wanna snuggle". He curled into TB and I shook my head, trying to clear it.

TB reached out and her touch coursed electricity through me - how I'd dreamed of this moment, but I didn't understand what was happening and it robbed me of my joy. She pulled me closer.

My little boy lifted his head and with his wide grin said "Hi Daddy. It's your wish".

Again confusion reigned "My wish buddy? How do you know about my wish? Which wish?..."

His grin widened and he rolled himself into me "You know daddy... The wish that you could tell an April Fools story on your blog..."

(Sorry, I promise this will be the only fiction of this ilk for a year - I couldn't resist. All the hiking details are true - MW)

A wish come true

2005-03-29T13:24:00.000-08:00

Spring slammed in with a vengeance. A string of below freezing days was supplanted by a stiff warm breeze that had me shedding coat then sweater and then unbuttoning my short sleeve shirt and still I was too warm.

My hike last night was through muck and snow fed torrents. The walking was hard but the bird song was glorious. I stopped often, listening to the liquid tones of a blackbird and percussive beat of a woodpecker. A crane drifted overhead and called its odd warble in answer to a hawks scream.

The long grass near the still frozen lake rustled dreamily and I followed the shore far around, unwilling to let the sound go.

Finally I turned towards my car and after a while I detoured to climb the highest hill in the area and rest while watching night settle on the forest and prairie. I lumbered up the hill and at the top settled in to meditate on the wind. Calm descended, entering through my scalp and skin and slowly easing inward.

An odd power flowed up from the ground, elemental earth feeding my spirit. The wind shifted and turned cold, but strangely it warmed my spirit. Elements swirled and coalesced and abruptly I found myself on my feet, hands clasped in front of me.

"This ground that I stand on lifts my soul and is the core part of me that attracts you. This wind that blows from you touches my soul and attracts me to you. Behind me the sun has set and in front of me a moon full and potent has yet to rise".

I moved my hands outward in response to the buffeting forces and cupped them, drawing the wind to me.

"I ask that you let go of your doubts. Follow the path that joins with mine. I am ready for you now. I want to inspire you and be inspired by you. I want us to grow together and separately. I want to celebrate life with you, share all this beauty..."

I spread my arms and turned round the hilltop, gazing in wonder

"... that I see and feel. I want you to show me your world and share it with me. TB, I can see our connection, our shared glow. I believe we can have a love that will transcend all that we have ever hoped for".

I felt a palpable wave move out from me and for a moment I felt both stronger and weaker. I fixed my gaze on a star.

"I am going to make a wish on that star. Trust that more than anything I want your life to be good and full of happiness, and if I am not part of that I will still be happy if you find it. I give you my soul and heart, mind and body. All that is me is filled with love and joy for you..."

I trailed off and breathed deep and brought my focus back to the star.

"Star, I've wished upon you so often, and it seems that much that I've wished for has come true, but so often it is beyond my ken. What I wish for tonight is something easy for me to understand, something that will help me to believe. I want TB to initiate a conversation with me - maybe a phone call, maybe an e-mail. Anything to show that she thinks of me when I am not the one initiating things. That is all I ask tonight. Thank you star - I hope you are having a good life".

I listened to the wind for a moment, then shouldered my backpack and headed down the hill. Halfway down I was struck by the thought that my cell phone might be on silent mode so I fished it out of my pocket and checked, hoping that it would ring. I noticed the time was 8pm and shoved the phone back in my pocket, then walked the final mile to my car. The rest of the evening passed with no call and I went to bed and let the hope pass away.

Sitting down at my desk this morning I went through my ritual of sipping my coffee and reading my e-mail. At the top of the list of my inbox was a conversational e-mail from TB sent at 8:16pm. The e-mail was just a spur of the moment friendly note, and it is the first time I have ever gotten anything like that from her.

Mystic Writer indeed!

Geese of fire

2005-03-25T08:04:00.000-08:00

A week ago I couldn't get out of bed.

I arrived back from the elation of my vacation to a city which compressed my soul and a day of work that boggled my mind.

The evening of St. Patricks day and a nieces 21st birthday provided ample outlet for my frustrations. The youth of our party entertained themselves mightily by feeding my need with a variety of beverages.

I have not been drunk in a long time and I enjoyed the freedom of inebriation. The morning after was a horrible combination of situational and alcohol depression with a huge twist of physical agony.

Trying to find my equilibrium has been a slow thing, and last night as the full moon rose in the afternoon sky I knew I needed something wonderful.

I headed northwest to a wildlife refuge and strapping on my backpack I set off. The wind blew lonely cross the prairie and the bluestem and indian grasses rustled quietly. Off in the distance I could hear the gentle cacophony of geese, duck, and crane settling into a meltwater pond.

The sun set slowly, turning the prairie gold, then pink, then purple. Geese restlessly crossed the sky as I restlessly crossed the prairie. A deer bounded high toward the treeline and paused to look at me for a while.

The trail turned into a stand of pines and in the dappled moonlight I found the trail covered in ice that looked for all the word like polished marble. I skated my way along, watching the moon slide in and out of the tree tops and listening to the whisper of the wind through the boughs.

Slowly the trail climbed and the ice was replaced by snow. At the crest of the hill I could look westward across a prairie flat to the far horizon. The wind was fierce as it broke against the hill and I sat face into it to meditate on the swaying of a birch tree.

The focus wouldn't come but I felt a peacefulness settle into me, and as I sat on the lonely hilltop I pictured lines of connection to the people and places I love. I whispered my thoughts and wishes, talked of my dreams, then lapsed into an easy silence.

The stars slowly whirled and tilted and finally, when the cold became too much, I creaked my way to my car and silently drove to a house that isn't my home.

The breath of the desert

2005-03-22T06:49:00.000-08:00

We reach the crest of the tortured rock ridge and start descending. The footing is tricky and I focus tightly on the path beneath my feet. A little voice comes from the backpack 'This is beautiful, Daddy', and I pause and lift my gaze.

The orange, brown, and yellow stone lifts and swirls around us. It seems at any moment the rock will unfreeze and we will be awash in this incredible landscape.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the dryness of the wind and letting the peace enter in. The sky is blue and demanding, etching the horizon with flawless precision.

I let the breath slowly out 'It is beautiful...'. and pick my way down to a sunken hollow filled with sand.

I gratefully unstrap the backpack, then lift him out and set him down. I lower myself and sit crosslegged propped against an orange ledge. He looks around then sits on my knee and nestles in. We share a slow moment of wonder till he leans forward and eases himself to his knees, then his belly.

He pulls his mittens off and starts building roadways and berms in the sand. I tilt my face to the sun, close my eyes, match my breath to the pace of the wind, and let go.

Homeward bound

2005-03-15T21:15:00.000-08:00

The journey continues. Today we crossed back over the Rocky Mountains to Denver and tomorrow we take a late flight home. In the morning we'll explore Roxborough State Park and then mournfully head for the airport.

I wouldn't go back if I could get away with it. The only thing I miss is TB, and if there is anything real there my not returning wouldn't affect it. My son has been immersed in the present place and moment and has talked very little about home or his mom, much to my relief.

I swore I wouldn't let thoughts of home color my journey but tonight they won't let me be.

I'll post some more pictures to cheer up this post and Thursday I'll try to recapture the joyous mood of our travels.

A roaming we will go

2005-03-14T21:31:00.000-08:00

One might well imagine I have fallen off the face of the earth. In fact, from a network sense, I have. My three year old son and I have been roaming the desert southwest for the last several days, hiking and grooving in the twisted rock landscapes.

My intent was to have internet access throughout the trip but it was not meant to be - in retrospect something of a blessing.

My son has a deep soul. We have sat long in silent wilderness and danced in stone grottos singing with our echoes. This is the fatherhood of dreams, he and I sharing a spiritual and physical adventure.

He has hiked on foot for several miles and been backpacked for many more. We have seen wonders. I am exhausted and ready to collapse into bed so I will so share one more picture and say goodnight.

Color Commentary

2005-03-08T08:48:00.000-08:00

Nicky wrote a comment that was truly beautiful and inspiring, and I wanted to bring some attention to it. What an amazing thing to call the person of your desire into your life. And I loved Nicky's perspective on finding the right one and how perception helps the odds. I think she is exactly right.

I feel like I've known TB forever, and sometimes I feel like she is a long lost part of me. The sense of completeness in a relationship is not something I have ever felt before. I am thrilled that Nicky has found her 'one', both for her and for the knowledge that it is possible.

I am also thrilled to find I am not the only one who sees the colors and impressions. Sometimes it's kind of lonely being me! I'm guessing everyone feels that way about something.

Anna's comment is wonderful because she gives credence to the belief that there are ways of knowing things about people that are not explicitely attributable to 'normal' senses. It intrigues me that for Anna her perception is less tangible than it is for Nicky and me, but in all our cases it seems undeniable.

I love it when a blog posting generates such remarkable comments! Thank you both so much.

True colors

2005-03-05T06:51:00.000-08:00

Earlier this year I was out hiking on a blustery winters night. The wind was howling and the snow was falling crystalline and sharp in the icy air. I walked for miles, senses expanding along with my soul as I removed myself further and further from civilization.

I was following the trail up a long grade when I became aware that someone was out in the night with me, and it came as no surprise when a few minutes later a pair of silhouettes rose slowly from the horizon.

What was surprising is that my senses and soul did not retreat, and in my heightened awareness I could 'see' that the couple had a reddish glow surrounding them. The three of us converged and before we had stopped the woman was already talking about the beauty of the night, the hawks she had seen earlier, the owls that were hooting around us. I was incredibly attracted to the two of them and I wanted to be part of the connection that I could visibly see between the two of them - they had something I've longed for all my life. Eventually our talking slowed a little and we said our goodbyes. I was so energized by the contact I practically danced the miles back to my car.

I thought long and hard about my impressions. Whenever I look at or focus my attention on something I frequently 'see' more than is there visually. Frequently it takes the form of colors, but in some cases it is more of an object. For example one of my best friends always leaves me with the impression of a nerdy pair of glasses. I had known him for quite a while before we became friends, and when I finally got talking with him I found that he considered himself an observer more than a participant in life.

Last fall I met someone who felt like a black and white checkerboard that had been seriously twisted and torqued, so much so that cracks had formed and black was spidering into the white. I do not think the future bodes well for this person, although I wish that that were not so.

In most cases as I get to know a person the initial vision I have of them becomes muddied with more mundane impressions and after a while I can't really 'see' that earlier vision of them.

I don't think this 'vision' thing is unusual. I think we all come up with modes of dealing with the wealth of sensory data our bodies present us with, and my mode seems to be primarily visual. I might be more sensitized to these impressions because I grew up largely alone with miles of nothing to roam in. Or maybe that is all completely bogus and my extra way of seeing things is something entirely different. At any rate...

At the time I thought that I had never seen a couple that had the same 'colors'. Their glows were slightly different but in a way that complemented. All other couples I've seen have little similarity when I look at them in this mode.

As with all things that excite and inspire me, I told it to TB, and she was as excited as I. She has experience in seeing things in different ways and she understood immediately what I was talking about. We talked about this for quite a while and then somehow moved on to the topic of traveling in Mexico. All the sudden I was struck with the rememberance of a couple I had met in a small Mexican town.

I was staying at a wonderful little resort far south on the gulf with my cousin Ad. Ad in his weirdly social way had befriended a man named Gedda, and when he introduced Gedda to me I was immediately aware of his presence. His 'look' was a pleasant gray with overtones of ivory and a total feeling of peace and depth. I was very attracted to him and we started talking. He mentioned his wife Sylvia was also staying at the resort but she was looking for solitude and was spending time in their room or walking south along the deserted coastline.

After a couple days Gedda wanted me to meet Sylvia, and when I saw her I noticed she too had a pleasant gray look, but with a cream tinge. When they came near each other the bond they had was intense - it was as if they were making love whenever they were together. It was incredible for me to be near them, and I spent much of the rest of my stay with them, telling each other our stories and philosophies.

At the time I was at the height of my cynicism and I dismissed anything that couldn't be explained by textbook physics, so I just laughed at myself and over time I had come to somewhat forget about the experience.

Talking with TB brought it all back and I realized that what I want, probably what everyone wants, is to have the connection that Gedda and Sylvia had - visceral and tangible, perceivable by those who know what to look for.

When I first met TB I was struck by her 'look'. It was so intense that for a long time I couldn't even bring up an 'eyeball' image of her in my mind. She is cream with overtones of brown and yellow, maybe just a hint of gold. There is a sense of the warmth of vanilla, and at all times there is a feeling of a gentle breeze blowing.

TB asked the question of whether people who couldn't see these connections could ever find each other, and I replied that I didn't think so. I'm probably wrong, and the fact that few of us ever find someone to connect with is probably just a matter of odds and not perception.

What do you think?

Raptor redux

2005-03-03T09:27:00.001-08:00

Inclement weather turned me towards central Iowa and I spent my day hiking along ridges and exploring little caves, then driving a little longer and hiking on high bluffs along the Cedar river.

The clouds were gray, occasionally lightening a little to let a little lemon sunshine through. I walked in satisfied silence appreciating the solitude and enjoying the solid rock and dirt footing.

There were eagles and hawks everywhere but the lighting was terrible for photography and nothing turned out.

The next day dawned incredibly clear and cold and I headed down the Mississippi. I crossed to Illinois at Savannah and saw at least twenty eagles roosting as I drove along the bridge. I stopped briefly mid-span, risking my life for several photos and this time took some shots that I liked.

This yearling eagle was getting a scolding from a mature baldie, and I was full of sympathy. I guess even eagle parents power trip on their kids...

I climbed the bluffs in Palisade Park, then headed over to the Rockford area and hiked at Castle Rock - I caught this hawk with a snap shot just as he cleared the tree line.

All in all it was a nice little trip and I feel somewhat restored.

Sure foot raptor run

2005-02-28T17:44:00.000-08:00

I fled from work on Saturday towards a quiet park in the hopes of getting a hike in the sun and wild. The wind was harsh and cold, whipping the naked branches and flattening the stalks of bluestem grass. At first I enjoyed the isolation of the wild weather but slowly the pain in my hips and knees from endless slips and catches on the ice and snow covered trails pulled me from the moment, and I realized I was ready for winter to end. I momentarily regained my joy when I spotted a pair of snow geese bedded in deep snow in the middle of an isolated lake, but the mood evaporated and I plotted an escape as I struggled to my car.

I had a couple days of vacation scheduled, and on Sunday I headed south towards Iowa. The drive was not promising, and as I followed the Mississippi I drove into a massive snowstorm. I fought depression as I fought the slippery road, and at a nondescript intersection in east central Iowa I turned west. I drove a short while and was treated to the sight of a bald eagle flying hard to the north but not moving at all in the brisk headwind. I slowed the car and reached for my camera and he peeled to the side and disappeared. A spark of elation ignited and I drove on. I saw three more eagles fighting northward, all moving in surreal slow motion and I knew I was in the grip of fate again.

A sign pointed the way to Bixby State Park, and I turned north to be stopped by a road closed sign. I changed into fleece and nylon, threw on my backpack and camera and followed the snow packed road down between twisted rock walls. The road emerged into a steep sided valley cut by a medium sized stream. The walls of the valley were topped by fog enshrouded rock ramparts, and with my heart singing I headed down the valley, climbing to the top of the cliffs, then coming back down, exploring curiousities and looking for wonderful views.

After a long hike I worked my way back up to my car through still twilight and slowly falling snow and my heart filled with joy. I drove to the nearest town and checked into a motel, and as I was lying in bed reviewing my day I realized I had been in this exact motel exactly one year ago to the day. Memory flooded back - everything about me was twisted then. I had no hope - My only goal was to survive long enough to see my son well along on his life and then I hoped I could just fade away. I had enjoyed my drive down last year, but looking back I can see how pale my joy was then compared to now.

On the surface, nothing has changed. I am still in a hopeless marriage, I have the same job and live in the same house. My little boy has gotten bigger but my love for him is boundless and I expect that that will never change.

TB is the difference. Something about her, something I feel when I'm with her that I continue to have when I'm not, completes my soul. I don't know what she thinks of me other than I know she is my friend.

I'm not fool enough to believe that the intensity of my desire will somehow make her feel the same towards me and so I have little hope of ever being in a more intimate relationship with her. And yet, for all of that, I still frequently feel an intensity of joy that I have never known before, and it always has the color of TB.

It is my fondest hope that somehow she can experience the same sort of joy she has given me.

Owl invasion

2005-02-24T09:25:00.000-08:00

An unexpected incursion of Great Gray owls from Canada drew me northward for my full moon hike. I picked a park known for it's remoteness and headed out in late afternoon.

The owls are large and seem unafraid as I was able to shoot an endless number of photos of them. In one case I walked to within six feet and simply stood and held the owls gaze, quietly telling the owl the small secrets of my life.

My hike started in late afternoon and pink and gold light filtered through the barren trees as I walked westward. The hiking was easy for the first mile with heavy ankle deep snow then, with no warning, the character changed to calf deep snow covering another three inches of crunchy half melted and refrozen slush. At first I thought I would need to end my hike, but then found that by keeping my knees slightly bent and my toes angled forward I could push through the crust and pull my leg up cleanly without barking my shins or tripping.

I enjoyed the odd footing, reveling in the long pull of thigh and stomach muscles, a welcome feeling of strength after my sickness. My mind settled into observer state, no evaluating, no commenting, just seeing and appreciating.

The gold faded to orange, then darkened through blue to black. The frozen river at the base of the bluffs darkened and then brightened to an odd blue as the full moon rose higher in the sky.

A large TOCK came from the trees and in the bright moonlight I saw a turkey unlimber and with a rustling like an ancient umbrella he rolled forward off his roost, opening enormous wings just enough to work his way through the tangle of branches and then spreading full to glide out along the moonlit river. I watched him to the far treeline and then waited, one moment, two, till another umbrella rustled and a second turkey launched to follow the first.

My eyes again followed the giant bird across the river and suddenly I was overwhelmed with longing to share this moment, share all the beauty I had seen this night. I wanted TB by my side, wanted to feel the happiness spread through her soul as it had spread through mine.

Up in the heavens I found the star of my desire "Star, if there is a seed, even the smallest seed of desire for me in TB, please, let it grow. Clear all the falseness, all the irrelevant obstacles, let it grow unfettered...".

My voice echoed in the grove and high up a mist suddenly occluded the sky for a moment, then cleared. The star seemed hotter and brighter and I hoped that something might come of my wish. I silently appended a 'thank you' and starting marching again through the snow.

The miles passed and I started to fade. My legs tired, not able to lift as high and I started to stumble. I turned and found the going easier as I retraced my footsteps. The sky was dark and clear and Orion held my attention as I walked through moonlight turned pure white - the snow along the river glowed. Thoughts of TB colored everything and joy and peace held me on the long walk back to my car.

Looking forward

2005-02-17T04:48:00.000-08:00

I feel like I've randomly selected scenes from my life and left the readers of this blog completely befuddled.

So, where should I go from here?

In the headlights

2005-02-15T09:25:00.000-08:00

I am in a gray state again. Nothing I've tried writing seems interesting to me.

I went for a walk last night and after five miles of wading through ankle deep slush the trail came to an open water crossing that was about a quarter of a mile wide. For some unknown reason there was a heavy current flowing and the boardwalk that normally crossed the water had washed away.

I was faced with the decision of backtracking five miles through the awful slush, taking an alternate trail which looked to be at least five miles long, or trying to brave the current. I looked through my backpack for a spare pair of socks or some water shoes, but I had unloaded those in the fall when everything had frozen. Time was ticking and I needed to be home in an hour, so I reshouldered my pack and waded into the slush filled current.

The cold was shocking and the footing icy. The current was strong but I had studs on my boots and I used my hiking poles to pick a reasonable path across. On the far side I set off at a double pace to forestall my feet freezing. Unfortunately the swift pace and soaked socks led to my feet starting to rub raw.

The indecisiveness I felt prior to entering the water is akin to my life right now. I have decisions to make and all the alternatives seem poor. I need to somehow find a path that lets me move forward. I know that no matter which way I go I'm going to feel some pain. Unfortunately, unlike my river crossing, it isn't going to be only me that is going to suffer. Fortunately time is not pressing me very hard.

Usually I can be patient and look for joy in my hiking and conversations with TB. Something in the last week or so has made it hard for me to find that joy, and I'm feeling a little hopeless about the future.

No conclusions today, just gray

It ain't over

2005-02-12T05:26:00.000-08:00

The lights of the city far below felt foreign to us as we drove over the top of the mountain. We'd been in the desert for days and were visiting the city to stock up on beverages before heading back out.

Ad stopped the car and we walked towards a cliff, cautiously avoiding the little patches of treacherous snow. He passed me a bottle of vodka and I drank it straight - we had run out of orange juice earlier.

"Lights look weird" he said.

"Yeah? What about that tree?" I replied.

"weird."

"Blink a few times..."

"oh yeah that's better" Ad said and we hit the bottle a couple more times to prepare for civilization. We climbed back in the car and Ad sailed us down the mountain side.

"It's OK to use the brakes, Ad...". I noticed my fingernails were gouging the dashboard. Ad jacked the brakes and we started to slide, eliciting a whimper from me. Ad resumed our barely controlled fall with a slight smile on his face.

We drove through the city and found a liquor store. Our trunk filled, we found a motel and checked in. Ad flipped on the TV and started making margaritas as I hit the shower. The dust flowed down the drain as I experimented with the various scented soaps and shampoos, finally settling on a nice mix of strawberry and lime.

When I came out, Ad was looking sort of slack jawed and concerned at the television. I tossed the plastic bottle of strawberry shampoo at him "Lets bring this in the car - I think it will mix nicely with the vodka". He didn't try to catch it and it bounced off his temple.

"I think this is real" he said, and I noticed he was genuinely upset. I grabbed a margarita and sat down to watch. A reporter was interviewing a young couple "Are you going to leave the city?".

The woman was in tears "No, we're a long way from the ocean... We have a baby, a dog..." She faded into incoherent sobs.

"What the hell Ad!" I exclaimed. The newscast cut to a graphic of a mid-ocean view. Something fiery streaked out of the sky and hit the water. A dimple formed and then a huge mushroom erupted, full of fire and jetting steam. Ad took a long pull on the margarita "Tonight". He pointed at the TV. "A meteor. That's what happens if it hits the ocean. They're saying it's worse if it's a land strike".

I blinked at him, then looked back at the screen "... waves will race around the planet at 500 miles an hour...". Ad finished his margarita and started on the bottle of tequila. He handed it to me. "We need more liquor - do you have a credit card?". He was starting to look a little insane.

"Ad, you're kidding - this is a joke, right? Like war of the worlds?" I whined.

"Nope, I've been watching it while you were in the shower. It's real..."

I sat back stunned. Neither of us had anyone to call, we were perpetually single. "Reno is only a couple hours away..." I ventured. Ad cut me off - "I don't think the Chicken Ranch offers credit".

I tried "Maybe we should order a pizza". Ad nodded and I picked up the phone. I ordered, then tried to convince the guy to let me pay with a check. He didn't seem to know about the end of the world but he still wouldn't take a check.

"Ad," I started "I never liked Lisa..."

"Yeah, I thought Karen was a hag too. Are we getting things off our chest now?"

I nodded and continued "Lisa was just desperate, and...".

He cut me off again. "You remember that night when Teresa and Tammy invited us over?"

"Yep" I answered "The three of you sent me out for beer on a bicycle, and the cops pulled me over..."

"Yeah." he was starting to grin "You took forever. Tammy liked you when you two met and she wanted to do you. She was really anxious when I told her you were a virgin".

"Ad, you liar. Nothing happened that night. Well, except for the cops - they had a good time..."

Ad was laughing now "Nothing happened to you. I did them both. It was my first time."

I shook my head in confusion "Your first sex or your first twosome?"

"Both"

I looked at him in disgust and envy then looked back at the screen. There was the incoming fireball again, but this time it hit a prairie. Sheets of fire erupted from the crater and endless amounts of dust and smoke. The announcer droned "... the sun will be cut off for years. Experts agree that this will trigger an ice age...".

"Crap. Ad let's go to a bar and find someone. We've only got tonight..."

"Good idea." Ad sniffed the air. "Do you know you smell like a strawberry margarita? What kind of a girl are you hoping for?"

Ad took a shower and came out smelling lemony. I'd turned the TV off.

"Hey, they just announced it's going to hit Lake Superior" I told him. "It's like the worst of both worlds. It'll wipe out all the great lakes states AND put tons of smoke and ash into the air. We're doomed". I'd switched to screwdrivers while he was getting clean and I handed him one.

"Well, you look kind of happy about that." He grumped.

"Ad, you moron, it was a fake. It's a false documentary called 'Without Warning'. You utter twit... Did that really happen with Tammy and Teresa?". A knock at the door announced the arrival of the pizza.

I turned the TV back on as Ad paid. He detoured into the bathroom on his way back and tossed me a little bottle of lotion "Let's bring this lemon stuff in the car. I think it will go pretty well with tequila...".

Beware of falling DJ's

2005-02-10T08:15:00.000-08:00

Between Jean and Karen I started a little company to do DJ work for high schools and parties. My intent was to make it a big thing but that never happened. At any rate...

I was DJ'ing a dance at the high school I had graduated from. I always insisted that the lights be turned way down (as in OFF) which made me a great hero to all the horny kids. My rationale was that part of my 'act' was the light show, which was a bunch of colored light boxes, blacklights, and strobes. I'd built a little hand made circuit that allowed me to 'sync' the boxes with the beat of the music and I was darn proud of my light show.

I had some rocking long song going and had dropped the headphones to watch the kids jumping off the stage and into the arms of their friends. The strobes were blinking at a frenzy inducing 14 beats per second, which is slow enough that there are noticeable gaps when people are moving quickly enough.

Pretty soon it occurred to me that I wanted to be caught by my adoring public and I moved to the edge of the stage and leaped.

<blink>

The crowd is thickly gathered with arms outstretched

<blink>

I'm soaring upwards!

<blink>

The crowd thins

<blink>

The crowd parts

<blink>

Splat! I gracelessly slap into the floor

<blink>

The crowd dances back

<blink>

I writhe through the trampling herd

<blink>

I reached my DJ chair and turned off the strobes. With a scratch of the needle I ended the long rocking song and replaced it with a sad one about betrayal.

. . . .

. . . .

I have been trying for a week to come up with a good pithy moral to this story, but I've gotten stuck playing with the aphorism "Look before you leap" which doesn't seem to lead anywhere.

Anybody have any ideas?

Grandma and the wolf

2005-02-07T13:41:00.000-08:00

My grandmother had 14 grandkids and each of us believe we were her favorite. She had a gift for making you think everything about you was special and appreciated. Much of my love of nature comes from the lessons I learned from her long ago and still am learning from her today, though she has long since passed.

When I was six, my family along with my grandma and a host of cousins were staying up north at our two room family cottage. It was just before sunrise in the middle of summer and as was often the case I was lying in bed thinking. I heard a rustle and my grandma got up and looked over to see me looking at her.

She held a finger to her lips and then motioned to me as she opened the door. I quickly padded outside in my bare feet and joined her on the dew covered grass. She asked if I'd like to go for a walk. Hearing my happy 'Yes!', she started towards the lake in her floppy old shoes.

She was in her late sixties but she moved easily and silently in the woods, her feet stepping on the quiet pine needles and avoiding the twigs and leaves. We walked along and she quietly pointed out things to look at - the mist on the water, a fish jumping, a heron quietly coasting just above the still mirror of the lake.

My grandma gently put her hand on my shoulder and I stopped walking. We slowly turned till we were looking back into the woods, and there I saw a timber wolf with his head facing away from us. My grandma's calm seeped into me through her grip and I silently watched as the wolf turned his head towards us.

He looked towards my grandma's face and I could feel something different come into her - not fear, but something deep and wild, something they both shared. The wolf shifted his gaze to me and I looked directly into his eyes.

There was beauty there and again I sensed the wildness, this time coming into me. The wolf stared a long while, then turned and disappeared into the woods. I felt judged but not dismissed - I felt small but good.

I looked up at my grandma and could tell she knew all the feelings I had felt. We resumed our quiet walk up the trail.

One of these days I'll see those eyes again.

Driving under the influence

2005-02-04T13:28:00.000-08:00

In a recent comment, Alice gently reminded me that my ongoing illness may be my body trying to tell me something, and that I might consider taking it easy. Of course she was right.

One of my little boys favorite activities is having me drag him through the snow on a little sled. Wednesday morning I took him for a slide walk and his whoops and laughter drove me to greater and greater efforts and all told I pulled him for about four miles.

Wednesday evening I crawled into bed feeling horrible and didn't rouse till 11am the next day. My lungs were congested and I was feeling guilty at letting a beautiful sunny day go unappreciated, so I hit on the idea of relaxing in my nice comfy car seat. I showered, grabbed my camera, and oh so slowly lumbered to my vehicle.

I drove south a couple hours across the snow swept prairies, then turned west to follow a river valley. The exposed rock contrasted with brilliantly lit white snow and I drove in happy appreciation. Twice I spotted hawks and painfully exited the car to try to take photos but I moved too slowly and they flew off to distant perches.

Another hour brought me to the Mississippi and I turned northward. The bluffs of the upper Mississippi are an endless wonder to me and even though I've seen them hundreds of times they always bring me joy. Sun set as I was driving along the shores of Lake Pepin and I stood on a cliff and basked in the slowly darkening glow.

I drove home under stars to be greeted by my little boy, then ended the day with another series of short conversations with TB.

Sickness and all, I couldn't have wished for a better day.

February Fog

2005-02-01T06:50:00.000-08:00

Last night I walked in an easy isolated park with a little waterfall and miles of tree covered rolling hills. It was challenging only in that the once deep snow was melting and the trail was slippery. I fell twice, once sliding into a tiny ravine that sucked me in and wouldn't let me out. I felt like the poster child for Medic Alert.

It was absolutely silent except for the rare hoot of owls and a chorus of coyotes at the very beginning of my walk. Darkness was complete - I saw artificial light only twice in three hours of walking. It is just above freezing here for the first time in quite a while and I was too hot for most of my hike, then my fever caught up with me and I started to feel very cold and somewhat faint. The last two miles to my car were made with odd little flashes of light and dark patches swimming across my vision. Not really what I'm looking for in these dark walks.

This silly cold is robbing me of much of my joy. February is starting out gray inside and out and I feel a desperate need for something sudden and exciting to enter my life.

I know intellectually that I will start to feel better and the sun will be out in not too long a time, but it seems an eternity when all is buried in fog.

Sickness makes writing difficult and so I tried my hand at redesigning my blog. I'm lacking talent or maybe sickness makes that impossible as well, and I'm faced with failure.

My vision was to have the top be a photo, composited photo, or drawing of a frozen lake with a dimly lit hillside rising up from the far side. On the hillside a snow covered trail would cut across diagonally. On the left would be a full moon just kissing the horizon with the silhouette of a bare tree against it. The tree would be casting a shadow across the lake and the shadow of the branches would touch the bottom of the photo. There would be another silhouette tree on the right, again with shadow branches crossing the lake.

I would like the shadow tangle of branches to continue down the sides of my blog in a sort of spiderwebby fashion. I'm guessing a single repeated tile would give me the effect I want.

Of course, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I took four years of art classes in high school and realized I can sketch something I can see and I love throwing pots, but I'm not good at much else.

Is there anyone out there who can make my vision a reality?

Dark wandering

2005-01-28T09:27:00.000-08:00

About an hours drive south there is a park that is always empty and I knew I would be able to roam for miles in solitude. Intellectually I knew it would be a good choice for my full moon hike, but unfortunately as I was driving to the park last night I felt a tugging toward a more remote ravine. I resisted the urge, reasoning that exploring a deep, little known ravine in the dark with large amounts of snow on the ground was verging on insane.

I was about a mile from the turn to the park when my cell phone rang. My little boy was calling to laugh with me. I happily giggled with him until he abruptly said "Beep!", beeped a phone button, and hung up.

I laughed a bit longer then realized I had missed my turn and was heading for the ravine. I reflected on how I'd found it - when my little boy was an infant he would nap most of the time and I would take him in the car for long drives while I explored the countryside. When he would wake up I would take him for a walk wherever we happened to be.

He roused one day as we were driving in the flatland and I found a stand of trees optimistically labeled 'State Forest'. I carried my son in amongst the trees and did a little exploring and found the ravine. I looked down into it but it was too steep to descend. This spring I had come back when everything was in bloom and gone for a hike but couldn't see anything but leaves and bushes.

Back in the present the sun set over the crazily carved snow, dipping below the horizon with just the faintest touch of red. I knew the night would be clear and cold and when I arrived at the ravine it was full dark. I walked the edge of the roadside snowbank until I could see the depression of some old footprints, then stepped into the snow.

In the woods the trail was invisible but I could sense a different texture with my boots where someone had walked before. The footing was masked and I felt my way with poles and the touch of my feet. The hidden footprints headed to the ravine and then curved to skirt the edge, thankfully far enough back that I didn't need to worry about cornices.

The footsteps turned downwards and followed a break in the cliff for a steep descent. The snow had drifted deeper in places and at times I slid in a small avalanche of powder. At the bottom the trail led to the river and I saw to my dismay that there was a mishmash of flood torn trees square in the middle of the only way to cross.

I had serious misgivings but didn't want to end my hike so quickly so I carefully started climbing and threading my way through the ice coated trees. The snow hid everything and underneath me I could hear the water rushing. As I slowly worked my way through the tangle my fear grew that I would slip and snap a leg or drop into the river and be pinned underwater by branches.

At last I reached the final tree and I used my pole to probe the unseen ground. It felt firm and I stepped off. With a deep breath I looked up and was astounded at how bright the stars were. Orion was decorated with millions of stars. The Milky Way sprayed itself across the center of the sky and the Big Dipper hung vertical. The seven stars of the Pleides were easily visible amidst the backdrop of a myriad of others. I lost myself in wonder for a long while till the hoot of an owl brought me back.

The trail followed a bottomland for a ways then ascended the cliff - my cold congested chest made plowing through the snow doubly hard and I felt relieved when I made it to the top. The valley spread out below me, dimly seen cliffs crowned by frozen waves of snow, the trees tracing black lines against the star filled sky. The only sound was the rustle of branches in the light breeze.

I slowly started moving again and realized I was following the path of my earlier spring hike. Rememberances of that nettle strewn and mosquito filled day made me appreciate the winter a little more, and I walked in revererie for a while.

I turned a corner and stopped, my vision suddenly overlayed with bushes covered with bluebells. I had turned this same corner last spring and seen the bluebells and simultaneously had the first of my moments of connection with TB. It was as if she were right beside me, sharing the wonderful scene. For a brief second I hoped for a connection this time, but it was not to be. I descended again into the ravine and everything was tinged with thoughts of her.

The path curved to follow the river between the cliffs, and I was starting to struggle with exhaustion. The snow was smooth as it filled depressions and hid fallen trees, and each step sucked a little more energy. Ahead the rivers path flowed directly against the cliff and I was forced to pick my way across the water on ice coated boulders.

I ascended the cliff through deep unconsolidated snow, moving slowly and deliberately. The moon rose up over the trees and I was finally able to see my footing and I picked up speed for the last mile of my hike.

I entered a small moonlit filled meadow and spotted my car at the far end. The meadow had blown clear and I knew it would be a short easy walk to my car. I thought about the drive home in my fever sweat soaked clothes, thought about the fresh shirt and jeans back in my car.

I looked round the meadow, entranced by the pearl glow, then stripped off all my clothes. My body steamed in the well below freezing air and I stood for an endless moment of joy clothed only in moonlight.

I sang praises to my car heater on the way home.

Cookout

2005-01-27T08:55:00.000-08:00

I am still suffering rather greatly from a fever and cold and I think I'll write about a happy thing from when I was about 5 years old...

--

Dad loved a cookout. He had created a picnic area by clearing out the foundation of an ancient collapsed farmhouse. The two walls that remained provided shelter for the pile of rubble he called a firepit and the stacks of gray wood he deemed benches and tables.

The ritual would start with some mumbled orders. "MW get the ax". "Joe get some plates". He would rumble off to the woods. My mother would roll her eyes and quiver as crashes and obscenities echoed around us.

He would emerge snorting, dragging a complete tree behind him. "MW, start breaking branches. Joe, hold the tree trunk". He would lever himself on to the largest branch and start jumping. My mom would blink back tears of laughter and look solemnly at us kids.

My dad would go sprawling when the branch broke, coating himself with dust and grass. My mom would hold her hand to her mouth, covering a cough that sounded suspiciously like a giggle.

He would pick up the enormous branch, and with a spin would smash it in to a foundation wall. Rock and wood shrapnel would pepper the area. My mom would squeak as he wound up for another blow.

Eventually the branch would break, whipping around to rap him in the knuckles or bash into his legs. With a grumble he would toss the wood in the pit.

Pain would cause him to glare around. Spotting the tree would give him a target, and he would wrap his arms around the trunk, strain for a while, and then step back for us to admire his handiwork.

We would look goggle eyed at the sight of a thirty foot tree draped across a three foot firepit.

As my dad lit the tree, my mothers control would crumble, and howls of laughter followed the flames into the night...

River run

2005-01-24T18:13:00.000-08:00

Late last week I ventured to the near wild for a walk in the dark. The night was overcast and newly fallen snow lay inches deep along the trail. I walked in altered state from high fever and shortness of breath and the trail and trees wobbled and twisted as I walked.

I dropped to the river following a three quarter mile ravine, tapping poles and gently feeling with the soles of my feet. The trail looped back riverside for a couple of miles and when I spotted a bench ahead I decided I needed a rest.

I sat down and shut my eyes and the world closed in and swirled. Dizzy feelings welled up and I snapped them back open. I started counting breaths. one, two, three, four, one, ... The dizziness slowed and I watched the air come through my mouth and into my lungs. ... three, four... A coyote ghosted along the river in front of me, panting loudly and moving like the wind. I couldn't hear his feet. He glided out of sight.

one, two, ... A second coyote slid past, no sound of feet. ...four... time passed, then a third and fourth, then two more.

More breaths, and slowly a coyote ambled back, sniffing the air and twitching his ears. He stopped for a moment, sensing something wrong, then silently walked away.

I sat a moment longer, breathing in, breathing out, then rose without thought. I drifted through the dark to my car and beyond, floating homeward till the city made everything concrete.

Calm

2005-01-22T06:13:00.000-08:00

My mind was frozen as I listened to the phone ring. A rattle sounded and then "Hello?". I recognized her voice instantly. An unexpected surge of happiness welled up and still operating without thought, I said "Happy Birthday!".

"Why are you calling?" she said and I sensed some tension in her voice.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday". This time some of the odd happiness I was feeling slipped into the phrase.

"Well, thank you". I heard some impishness in her voice now too, and it made me want to giggle. "I've got to go now" she continued "there's a big party here and I've got to get back".

"OK" I replied happily.

"Goodbye" I heard the twinkle in her voice.

"Bye" I said, and gently hung up the phone.

I felt bouncy and relaxed for the first time in a long time. What the heck was that about? Had some question been answered? Did I have such a strong connection that after 12 years simply exchanging a few words could make me happy? I didn't get it, but after the earlier pain I was willing to just enjoy the feeling. I'd think about it later.

I went to the door and looked out. The storm was slackening a little and the plastic on my car window still looked sound. I looked up to see if the moon might be ghosting around up there but saw nothing. I realized I was sleepy and with a last deep breath of the wind I gently closed the door and went to bed.

The relaxed feeling lasted through the next few days. Elsa called and left me the name of a counselor and the time of the appointment. I chewed over the conversation with Karen. Nothing important was said - why did it make me feel so good? Maybe I had my connection with her confirmed? Maybe that happy year and a half so long ago was real. Maybe love was real? I didn't know what, but something had been resolved in me. I didn't feel any real compulsions about Karen anymore. For the first time in years I thought about her and our time together, and it was fun to think about the happy times we'd had.

I met with Elsa at the counselors office and I felt distant. I pretended not to notice her overtures for a kiss and when we talked with the counselor I was polite and truthful but didn't feel like I cared very much. We never discussed Jeff. The counselor concluded that we probably could make our relationship work but we had issues to resolve and we set up another appointment. On the way out Elsa asked if I'd like to come over to her house and I told her I had plans and I left without touching her. I drove the long drive back to my house in the country watching the sunset in my rearview mirror. I didn't think at all.

The days passed, and one evening I was again sitting in my rocking chair with the windows open and grooving on the birdsong and golden light of my living room when the phone rang. I snatched it up "Hi!".

"Hi!" her impishness ignited something in me. It was Karen!

"Well, this is an unexpected..." I waited for her to think 'pleasure' then said "...call".

She laughed "I'm sorry I couldn't talk on my birthday. Fred was right there and he'd lose his mind if he thought I was talking to you. I really wanted to talk...".

"Karen, are you doing OK?" concern welled up in me. Something about the way she talked about Fred worried me.

"Fred and I have our problems. We've seperated a couple of times but we've got kids and I always come back. He's pretty controlling..." her voice was tense as she paused. "Hey, I've seen where you live" she said, changing the topic "Did you plant all those flowers? You live alone, right?"

"Yeah, I planted the flowers but now I'm letting the gardens go more wild. I want to have the feeling that the garden is doing what it wants instead of what I want. I do live alone - I've become pretty much a loner although I'm seeing someone now. I'm pretty sure it's not going to work out. Why would you ever drive past my house - it's really out of the way". That last point struck me as pretty odd.

"I go past there pretty often. I always fill up at the gas station near your house. I've been hoping to run into you for years but it never seems to happen..." again she trailed off, then changed the subject "You write software now, right? You're a programmer? Do you like that?".

I laughed - she knew about how I'd struggled trying to settle on a career - first math, then physics, then settling for electrical engineering but hating that. "I love it. It has all the things I liked about math and physics and people are willing to pay me to do it. It's the greatest thing. How about you. Did you-".

She cut me off with a mock indignant tone "Yes, I got my nursing degree. It took me 10 years with the kids and all, but I did it".

I started laughing and she joined me. After a bit she said "Hey, don't laugh! It wasn't easy for me!".

I knew she was joking a little, but I went serious "Hey Karen, you know I wouldn't laugh at you. I know how hard you worked at it, and I'm really proud you were able to get your degree. Karen... I'm really sorry for all the wrong things I did back then".

I heard tears in her voice "MW, you never did anything wrong. Don't ever believe that it was your fault MW. You were perfect...". She sobbed and I cried with her.

After a little while she said "My son goes to school with your nephew. He seems like a great kid".

I loved my nephew and agreed with her "Yeah, he is. I take him on hikes with me and he is so into everything. I love talking with him". We talked about my nephew, then about her kids and then she had to go. We finished our talk with simple goodbyes.

I sat for a long time in a warm glow, then threw on my coat and went for a walk under a moon softened by wispy clouds. I felt like all my questions about Karen were answered, all the doubts I had about that time resolved. I knew I had loved her back then and that I still loved her, and deep inside me, at a place where there is no doubt, I knew she still loved me.

Twisting

2005-01-19T19:24:00.000-08:00

The tape machine clicked a couple of times, then Elsa's voice "I don't know what I can do, but I really want to try to make this work. Please MW, just call me. I'll understand if you just want to say goodbye". She started to cry. "Please. Jeffy misses you. I miss you... I love you". The answering machine clicked, then started the next message "Hi MW, It's Pat...". I paused the machine again.

Jeffy and Elsa. Damn. Images of the summer swirled in my head. Wrestling with Jeffy in the grass. Carrying him on my shoulders. Reading him stories and then Elsa and I kissing him goodnight. Elsa and I undressing and getting into bed. I felt like his Dad. I felt like the two of us were parenting together. It felt so good but it always went so bad.

Every couple of weeks something I did would bother her and she would explode in anger. Was it me? Did I love her? Had I ever loved anyone? Maybe the problem was me. The wind rattled the house and I remembered the broken window and soaked floor. My temples pulsed. I needed to talk to someone. I knew I'd never sleep. I dialed Elsa before I could think any more about it.

"Hi Elsa".

"MW? I'm so glad to hear from you. I didn't think you would call...".

"Elsa, I don't know what I'm doing. My car was broken into, my carpet is soaked, and I don't think you and I are good for each other. I miss you and Jeff but I need you to stop calling me" I blurted without thinking.

"What? I miss you too. What about your car?".

I told her about my car and my day and I calmed down a little. She finally ventured "I have an idea for us...".

"What." I replied stonily.

"Maybe we could see a relationship counselor. Maybe we can work through our problems".

All the sudden my head hurt again "Can you hold - I need to think". I set the phone down and started pacing. 'Our problems'... Maybe it was me. Maybe a counselor could help me.

I got back on the phone. "OK, but if that doesn't help or if the counselor thinks we aren't good together I don't want to keep trying. This is too painful Elsa, I can't keep doing this".

"Do you want to come over and we can talk?"

Someone drove a spike into my temple "Elsa, no. I don't want to see you until we meet at the counselors office. Do you have someone in mind?". She said she did. "Why don't you make an appointment and let me know the time" I continued "and I'll see you there. I don't think it's a good idea for us to talk till we've had our appointment".

"Oh."

"Elsa, I like the idea and I have a little hope, but not much. This has been really hard on me. I'm sorry. I need to get going". I trailed off lamely.

"I'm sorry too MW." She replied, and I could tell she was crying again. "I don't want to hurt you. I'll call about the appointment. Bye... I love you...".

"Bye Elsa." I gently hung up the phone. My hands were shaking. Love? Dependency is more like it. Broken people looking for someone to prop them up. I jumped up and paced to my bedroom. I've never loved anyone. No one has ever loved me. Susy? Susy wanted anyone to like her. Jean just wanted to lose her virginity. I was just a body. ...and I just wanted someone to convince me I was good. Damn! I paced back out of the bedroom and glanced at the calendar on the wall. My feet locked and I swayed. I couldn't move and I felt scared. The pressure in my head was unbearable. Love. No one. The calendar. What was it about the calendar? I could feel my brain starting to veer and this time I was able to stop it.

Karen. I waited for the screaming to start, but it didn't. It felt like a long missing tooth, empty and broken, but not painful. Karen. It was Karen's birthday.

My feet walked me back to the phone. I pulled out the phone book. Fred's last name popped into my head and I looked it up. There he was. In fact, they didn't live all that far from me.

Slowly my hand picked up the phone and dialed.

Reverie

2005-01-18T10:02:00.000-08:00

A slithering rattle echoed above me and I glanced at the ceiling. The TV antenna wire must have broken loose in the wind. I opened the door to a howl and saw the wire hanging down, then peered through the rain and could see that the plastic over my cars window still held.

I checked the carpet, thought it might be OK and sat back down to resume my reverie.

Elsa. I'd been sitting in my office last spring with the window cracked so I could hear the birds singing. The phone rang, and after so many weeks I was surprised to hear Elsa's voice. "Hi MW, would you like to go to a B&B? On Friday?". For some reason I found that hilarious and started laughing uncontrollably. Finally I got myself under control. "Hi Elsa, what are you talking about?".

"I was given an assignment for a story in a small town". Elsa was a feature reporter. Her words were a little clipped and I wondered if she was mad about my laughing. "One of the residents in the town has built a restaurant next to a B&B, and he has plans to totally redo his little farming community into a tourist haven. I'm supposed to interview the guy and see what the other community residents think. I know you love small towns... Part of the assignment is to try the restaurant, so we'll get a free dinner".

I processed that for a moment, then asked "And the B&B part?". She replied with a laugh "Oh, we'll look at it but I wasn't planning on staying". I was actually relieved by that statement. I had made a date with Lisa for a Saturday morning walk and I didn't feel like telling Elsa that.

Friday arrived and we set off with Elsa driving. Out of the city the fields were just sprouting and we rolled through the green velvet hills without talking much. I became comfortable and lost myself in the play of cloud shadows racing along the ground.

She interviewed the owner of the B&B and restaurant first. I was amazed at the transformation. I had concluded that Elsa was pretty mild and somewhat boring and now she was aggressively questioning the guy. She had a knack for finding areas that he didn't want to talk about - she was half his size and she dominated him entirely.

Somehow the interview finished on a positive note and we were led to the restaurant. The food was wonderful and the atmosphere was comfortable and we talked in intense whispers about the interview and the guys plans. The conversation continued after dinner as we wandered through the tiny town. I was incredibly excited by this new image of her and our talking was fun and animated.

We drove back to the city under a sliver of moon, and when we arrived at her house she invited me in. I sat on the couch while she bustled around putting music on and getting drinks. When she came back she sat right next to me, her leg touching mine, and I said "I think I should kiss you". After a while she took my hand and placed it on her breast and things progressed till she was naked. We explored a long time and then somehow mutually agreed to stop. I was glad - I wasn't sure how I felt about my resolution made so long ago, and I had never dreamed I might have to think about my feelings about sex that night. I left as dawn was breaking.

Elsa and I had a date a couple days later and we did OK by filling the awkward moments with kisses and on the next date she introduced me to her little boy Jeff. Jeffy and I played together and he sat on my lap at dinner and when it was time to go home he gave me a kiss and a hug. I couldn't get enough of him and he filled Elsa's and my conversation and time together.

Thinking of Jeffy agitated me and I got up from my chair to check the carpet again. I couldn't decide if heat would help dry the carpet or cause the mildew to grow faster. I settled for running the furnace motor without heat.

Again I stared at the blinking light on the answering machine. I thought of Jeffy missing me, knew he'd be crying and asking his mom when I'd be coming, then asking her again when she gave him an answer he didn't like. How could I have done this to a sweet little three year old? Why in the hell didn't I just call it quits with Elsa? I knew it couldn't work after the first date. Every time we somehow connected she ended up screaming at me about something. I knew there was something wrong with her... Maybe there was something wrong with me? Did I miss her? I missed Jeff. The blinking light was getting to me and I couldn't stand it any longer. I pressed the play button...

Rain falling

2005-01-17T05:09:00.000-08:00

The agent paused as he saw the alarm in my face. Thoughts of my rubber checks were racing through my head and I had a momentary image of a life in prison. 'Hey, maybe I'll finally have a good relationship' I thought and then snapped back as the agent cleared his throat.

"I was just biking into the parking lot when I saw a tan Ford leave the vicinity of your vehicle. It accelerated a little too quickly which made me suspicious so I checked out your car. It looks like the only damage is the window. Did you have anything valuable in the vehicle sir?"

I thought about that for a moment, still not sure why a treasury agent was handling my car break in "No, I think I had a couple CD's and that was about it. This is the second time I've been broken into and I learned from the first one...".

"Well, that's good." he replied. "I'm staying with my mom while I'm on vacation and then I'm heading back east. I wrote down a description of the car and some numbers where the police can reach me. I'm going to run before the storm hits - you should get going too". He nodded toward the broken window and handed me a page torn from a road atlas. I could see neat block letters and I thanked him.

As he hurried away I opened the door and gingerly swept the glass off the seat. I plopped down and removed my rollerblades then raced to the nearest hardware store. The wind was gusting fiercely now and the clouds were close. The air had a breath of the winter to come.

The storm broke before I got there and I was instantly drenched. I ran inside, grabbed some duct tape and a roll of plastic and ran back to my car. I started to unroll the plastic but the wind kept whipping it around, so I threw the roll in my car and started home. 'My windows!' I remembered. I'd left them open in my flight from the house.

The roads were flooding as I pulled into my driveway. I ran into the house and slammed the windows closed. The curtains hung heavy with water and the carpet was soaked halfway across the living room. I ran back outside to tape up the broken car window then back inside to deal with the water damage.

Hours later I sat in my chair and looked at my living room. It no longer comforted. Thoughts of mildew and floor damage and dealing with the police tore at my mind. The answering machine light blinked and blinked. I wanted to call Elsa and talk about my day. I wanted to call her and scream but I didn't know what to say. Why were we together at all? She was the fourth woman to respond to the personal ad I'd placed last spring and our first meeting was for lunch at a hip little bistro.

I had arrived early and was looking the place over. Elsa entered in the middle of a group of people but somehow I instantly knew she was who I was waiting for. I walked over and murmured "Elsa?". "Hi" she smiled and her hand floated up and lightly touched my chest. Later I would ask her about that, and she said she knew when she saw me she had to touch me. I could feel the touch for hours afterward.

The lunch was awkward - we'd try a topic and then it would falter. We didn't have many common interests and we differed on the few we shared. As we finished our meal I decided this could never work and I prepared to leave. She differed with me on that too and reached for my hand as she asked if she could see me again.

After our third date we still were faltering and when we said goodnight I could tell the awkwardness was getting to her too. I wasn't at all surprised when several weeks went by without hearing from her - I was pretty sure I'd never hear from her again. Elsa, of course, had different ideas...

Fleeing the wind

2005-01-15T05:14:00.000-08:00

The rollerblades whir slowed as I hit the base of the hill and the stroke of my legs became choppy as I powered my way up. At the crest I relaxed a little and concentrated on making each motion perfect - slow squat on the left leg while pushing out with the right, arms parallel and moving to counterbalance, then glide on the left while standing back up and shift to the right foot. I watched my muscles with my mind, making sure everything flowed smoothly.

The trail darkened as I went under the six lane freeway, and a memory of Jeffy's laugh broke through my discipline "Yay! We're in the tunnel!". I laughed out loud and almost yelled "Yay!" and then it all hit me again. The darkness slammed into my soul and I fought despair. I shot out into the light 'Stop it.' I thought 'You know how to fight this. You've had 12 years of practice!'. I emptied my head again. Little thoughts of Jeff kept attacking and I realized I needed something more interesting to focus on.

The field to my right was lined with trees and I scanned the tops looking for hawks. I knew they hunted this field. Nothing. The tall grass in the field had turned russet and the purple of the thorns and lustrife contrasted with the goldenrod and black eyed susans. White butterflies floated above the flowers as I swept past and I noticed the prairie flattening and moving in erratic patterns as if the wind was dancing.

The motion combined with the tension I'd been feeling in the air and I realized a storm was coming. Maybe a big one. I sniffed and could feel a hint of cooler dampness. I knew it wouldn't arrive for a while but I wanted to be in my car when it hit so I again concentrated on my stride.

The eight mile marker flashed past and I started slowing down. I could blade like a bullet but I turned like a turtle, and I needed to be fully stopped before I could turn around. I thanked god no one witnessed my ineptitude and soon I was flying back towards my car. I could see the clouds on the horizon now and they were purplish black as they engulfed the late afternoon sun. The breeze started to pick up and I had to strain whenever the trail turned towards the west.

I felt relief when I arrived at the parking lot, and I threaded my way through the tangle of people hurriedly loading bikes or removing blades. I spotted my car and was feeling a wave of relaxation when I saw the glass on the ground. 'Damn!' I thought. I knew what it meant, my car had been broken into six months before and I'd been harassed continuously by collection agencies as the thieves bounced my checks all over the midwest. Frustration boiled up and I screamed "DAMMIT, did all of you just stand there while they broke into my CAR!". Heads looked for a moment then turned away.

I heard a noise to my right and turned. A huge man loomed up and I rolled back a step. He flipped a wallet open and I saw a flash of silver and gold "I'm a treasury agent sir..."

Ending and beginning

2005-01-14T05:20:00.000-08:00

Well shoot! I had hoped to add the final Karen detail in a short little post but after a couple days of attempting that, I realize it doesn't make any sense except in context. It might not make much sense there. I really didn't want to start another saga but it appears I have no choice. I won't even hazard a guess as to how long it will take me to write this completely. Forgive me...

I clutched all four bags of groceries in my arms as I looked over my little garden. Some grass had popped up behind the marigolds and I liked the way it looked from the steps. I laughed a little to myself as I mused that gardening is a lot easier when you like things to have a wild feel. I popped my shoe off and balanced on one foot while I opened the door with the other. I hooked my shoe into the house and then stepped in and tapped the door closed.

I thought about the mornings hike and how I felt a little tired but really pretty good - probably the best I'd felt in twelve years - In fact, the last time I felt this good was... My brain automatically veered away and I set the bags on the counter. I filled the empty cupboards and refrigerator and opened the big windows on both sides of the living room.

The September air riffled the curtains as I sat and looked my living room over. It had taken me years to furnish it with second hand and home made furniture and I loved the way it made me feel. The early afternoon light filtered through tan and gold curtains and made the wood in the couch glow. I listened to bird songs echoing through the windows and tried to empty my mind.

The little space I had created demanded answers - why had I decided to leave here? Elsa and I weren't good together - it seemed like it should work, but we grated on each other. Was it Jeffy? The smell of his three year old hair filled me and I just wanted to hold him. What had Elsa told him? How long would it take for him to forget me? That thought made me start to cry and I bit it off.

The answering machine light was blinking. Maybe Pat had called back and wanted to go out. I didn't really feel like it but I was determined not to get mired in despair again - I'd wasted too much of my life already. I punched the play button and the tape started to rewind. It took a long time and I wondered how many people had called.

"Hi MW, it's Lisa... I've been thinking about things and I think you're right - I'd like to be your friend. I know you're busy with Elsa and Jeff, but maybe we could talk on the phone sometimes. Give me a call. Bye".

Lisa was one of the dozen women who had responded to a personal ad I'd placed in the spring. I had really enjoyed her sense of humor but realized after a while that we had seriously different ideas about life. I loved how she made me laugh and asked to be friends. That had probably been a mistake.

The next message started and there was a long stretch of tape hiss, then finally "It's me...". My heart tore in two. Elsa... I had started moving into her house last week and before I'd finishing putting my clothes in her closet she was screaming at me. I had repacked my car and come back here and I'd spent the week fighting thoughts of her... and Jeff.

"... I know you told me never to call again. I'm miserable. I'm sorry I lost my temper at you. I don't know what's wrong with me... what's wrong with us. I need you".

I stabbed the answering machine and cut her off. I ripped the closet door open, grabbed my rollerblades, fled to my car and screamed away....

Tying off

2005-01-11T19:18:00.000-08:00

When I started this series of posts, my intent was to do it in 4 parts with the final two being posted on New Years. I haven't really thought about these three relationships much in the last couple years and deciding to write about them now came about in an odd way.

I wanted to give TB a present for Christmas that said something more than 'I went shopping' (Although I did go shopping too). She is heavily into symbols and ceremonies in the same way that I am and is well aware of how actions and objects can be used to focus personal energies for growth and change.

At any rate, as part of this present I took a special feather out late at night on the solstice into a wild area that has a 'thin' feel to it. I made up a little ceremony whereby I used the feather to erase the boundaries between the inner me and the outer world. It was a profound feeling at the time and I felt myself spread out and touch the trees and snow and all the surroundings.

I was gone for quite a while and when I came back I started walking without thinking. After a couple miles I was back at my car and somewhere during that time I had the notion placed in my head of blogging these three relationships. It wasn't anything conscious.

A couple days later I started writing and as the posts unfolded I was profoundly shaken by what I was writing. Over the years I have sampled these memories one piece at a time, chewing them over and finding them terribly distasteful, but I have never before tried digesting them as a single piece. What a difference that makes! The change in my feelings is still progressing, and I'm not sure where it will lead, but it sure feels good. The amazing and supportive comments I've received have added tremendously to the change that is happening and I am profoundly grateful.

There are several people that know parts of the story but most of it has been locked in my head all these years. I was so ashamed of the middle of the night trysts that I never told anyone about them at the time - in fact most of my friends didn't realize that Karen and I had ever had any contact after I found out she was engaged to Fred.

Of course freeing myself from Karen didn't miraculously make my life perfect. Karen was an integral part of my social circle and breaking myself free required that I sever contact with most of my friends. I couldn't stand to hear even the slightest detail about Karen, and I avoided anyone who talked about her.

I had a blue collar job, but that took only 8 hours of my time - after that I would hit the bars. I didn't really care much about anything, and when I wasn't working I just hung out. I ended up sleeping wherever I happened to be when I couldn't stay up any longer. I have a very distinct memory of joy when I discovered that the newly introduced lighted billboards were warm and had a comfortable catwalk to stretch out on. It was a weird time. I think it only lasted a couple of months.

After I started to straighten up a little bit I bought myself an Atari 400 computer and taught myself to program. Not too long after I got a job as a programmer and I become the classic computer nerd - no social life and up for days on end hacking. It was probably great therapy and it certainly was a fantastic career move.

I've never seen Karen since. I found out much later that the last time we were together was probably the night before she married Fred. I *hate* that thought and I hope it isn't true. I also learned that the reason Karen's house was always empty was that Bonnie was spending all her time at her boyfriends house, and Karen had her own apartment on Fred's families estate. The only time the Karen's house was occupied was when she wanted to be with me.

I hated Karen for a long time and the feeling sickened me because it didn't feel true. After a long while the hate died and was replaced by a lack of any feeling at all about her. That felt better and I thought it was all over, and I was almost right.

and I go home

2005-01-10T04:49:00.000-08:00

Riding it out took it's toll. The sick feeling I had during our second nighttime rendezvous slowly permeated my entire life and I felt broken and ancient. When I would call her the phone just rang and if I drove by her house she was never there. I was forced to wait till she called me and the waiting knotted my stomach and made me jumpy.

Food tasted like ashes and the knotting made everything turn to lead, and soon I gave up eating and started living on beer. I began to lose weight.

I thought often of simply turning the buzzer off and moving on but repeated calls from Denise and Bonnie kept me believing that if I could just hold on Karen and I would eventually be back together and normal again.

I never knew when Karen would call and sometimes nights lying in bed waiting became too much and I would go to the bar or visit friends. If I did that too many nights in a row she would start calling all the places I might be. Somehow it evolved that she would let the phone ring once and hang up and I became hypersensitive to phones ringing. I always broke away from whatever I was doing and went to her.

Karen would rarely talk, preferring to have sex or sleep curled up in my arms, but over time I learned that Fred was the direct descendent of one of the early industrialists, and his family had wealth beyond my imagining. Karen would occasionally have crying jags and would mutter things like "You made my daddy go away" and "Your just like daddy, you'll start hitting things". The latter was bizarre - the only really violent impulse I've ever had was in the kitchen with Fred and nothing happened there - regardless, it made a lasting impression on her.

Time passed and even at it's glacial pace spring arrived, then summer and fall. My GPA plummeted as I couldn't focus enough to take the tests and eventually I stopped going entirely. I went to work but wasn't very useful - I'm guessing they kept me on because it didn't cost very much to employ me.

By Christmas I was down to 135 pounds from my previous very fit 200. A chance christmas conversation with my cousin Reb somehow progressed into her, her sister PB, and another cousin Jane coming to visit me just before New Years. I have loved these three since I was a kid and had fallen out of contact with them. The thought of them coming was the first positive feeling I had had in months, and for a moment the gray lightened.

We decided to attend Kirk's New Years eve party, and I liked that I entered with three beautiful women - a blonde, brunette, and redhead. I even felt a little interest in things. Just before midnight Karen arrived and as the ball dropped she pulled me to a room in the back and started kissing and running her hands over me. It bothered me and I was pulling away when I saw Fred walking through the party looking for her. Karen saw him about the same time and pushed me away with a laughed "MW!".

I couldn't bear to be around her and fled to find my cousins. Jane was on the phone and as PB and Reb fought to calm me, she gave the phone to me. Somehow the woman on the other end distracted me with her bizarre humor and as the conversation ended she elicited a promise from me that I would call her. Seeing her was somewhat out of the question as she lived a half dozen states away in Oklahoma.

The evening gave me a grim resolve and I disconnected the buzzer when we got home. My cousins soon had to leave and as I watched them go I felt the gray return. The first night without them I watched the little light blink as Karen tried to call, first at 2am and then again at 3:30. It became a nightly ritual as a week and then two passed. Midway through January the light lit up at 1am and continued to blink, hour after hour. Around 4am I picked up the phone and simply said "I'm coming". We had sex and I didn't feel a thing.

Two nights later I was at a party when Karen and Fred arrived. I watched her as she entered and she immediately spotted me. I held her eye as I got up and went to the sliding glass doors of the apartment and with a long glance that I knew would be the last, I stepped through the curtains and out on the balcony.

I looked over the railing - it looked like it was about 30 feet down. I put my hands on the top bar and hopped over, twisting so my toes landed on the outer edge of the balcony. I turned and leaned forward, hands holding the railing and examined things. The snow looked pretty deep and there were balconies below. I looked up and saw the moon. The crescent floated in the treetops and I was momentarily lost in the beauty.

I heard some noise from the sliding glass doors and I turned around, grasped the vertical bars and stepped off the balcony. I let my hands slide till my toes touched the bars of the balcony below and I let go. I balanced for a second and then jumped out a little, falling and punching through the crust of snow. I rolled backwards and came up on my feet and ran lightly out to the road in front.

I settled into an easy lope but was quickly winded. The fact that I couldn't run even a half mile now somehow struck me as funny and I started to laugh. I started walking and decided I'd go to my brothers house and sleep there. I knew at my slow pace it would take a couple hours and as I walked I looked at the sky.

I marveled at Orion, felt a connection with him up there. The milky way arched across the heart of the sky. The breeze was out of the south and I knew tomorrow the snow would start to glisten and in the afternoon little trickles of water would be everywhere. I couldn't wait to hear the gurgle of streams under the snow. I decided I'd call Thea and see if she wanted to go for a walk. I'd throw the big toboggan on a backpack and we could slide and have a picnic somewhere out in the wild. It had been so long since we'd done anything

I spotted a phone booth and called my brother "Hi, do you mind if I crash at your place tonight? Jeff drove me to a party and I wasn't having much fun so I left and now I'm walking. I'll be there in an hour or so - You don't have to stay up. I'll just let myself in and sleep on the couch...".

"You don't have to walk." he replied "I'll come get you. Laura's been worrying about you for months and she would love to see you".

"That's cool" I said, holding back tears I thought had long dried up. "I've got a story I'd like to tell the two of you if you can stay up for a while. I'll buy you a beer... Umm, you do have beer in your fridge, don't you?".

He laughed and we hung up. I took a deep easy breath and walked a little bit till the moon called to me again.

I smiled, looked upward, and lost myself in the sky.

The party dies

2005-01-08T06:07:00.000-08:00

The door opened as I approached and I could see she was only wearing a loosely tied bathrobe. She took my hand and led me down the stairs to where we had lived for a while, and when my feet touched the floor she pulled my clothes off and dropped to her knees. Time passed in spasms and I joined her on the carpet and with increasingly extravagant contortions we worked our way to the bed.

With a final triumphant effort I was spent and she spooned herself into my arms. I tried to find peace in the moment but after a while I needed assurance. "Karen?" I whispered, but she seemed to be asleep. I lay awake for a long time and then noticed the cold light in the window.

I got up to go to work and while I was dressing she buried herself in the covers. On the steps I looked back and saw only a spray of hair. I thought of our first night together and the synchronicity of the image gave me hope and I left satisfied.

I didn't have access to a phone at work and had to immediately go to classes afterward, and it was past 4pm when I finally found an unused campus phone. I called but she didn't answer. I attended a couple more classes and called at 7 - still no answer. I drove past her house on the way home and there were no cars and I spent another confused night lying sleepless and hoping the phone might ring.

At work the next day I was paged for a phone call. It was Denise, one of Karen's aunts that I had gotten pretty friendly with. "Hi MW, Karen was here last night and she said she'd seen you. She was a little short on details and I've been worrying about you. I hope you don't mind my calling you at work - I don't know where you are living now. Are you OK? Are you and Karen back together?".

I answered as best I could "I'm not sleeping well, but I'm OK. I don't know what is going on with Karen. I saw her the other night but nothing was resolved. I haven't been able to get in touch with her - no one answers at the house. Where's Bonnie?" (Bonnie was Karen's mom) "Where's Karen?". Denise answered "Bonnie is on a trip with her boyfriend Ron for a couple weeks. Karen was here till about 9 last night and then rushed off. The way she was acting I thought she was going to see you...".

"She didn't see me." I replied "Denise, do you think Karen is OK - do you know what is going on?".

"I think she's OK. I think she is just working through her parents divorce and the problems you two were having. I think she has cold feet and is trying to figure out some things. Have faith MW. She talks about you all the time and it's obvious she loves you. You just need to give her some time."

"I think I can do that..." I choked out. Denise heard the stress and said "She brought Fred around to meet the family and Mom spit at him. After he left we all laughed about it". That made me smile and I felt better. I had always liked Karen's grandma and now I think I loved her. Denise told me I could call her anytime I needed somebody to talk to.

I tried calling Karen several times and never connected. I went to bed that night and finally fell asleep hard at around 1am. At work the next day I was again paged for a phone call, and this time it was Karen "I tried calling you last night and you didn't answer...". I asked "When did you call?" and she replied "Around 2am. I really wanted to see you". I was exasperated "I've been trying to call you since I last saw you, and you never answer!".

She said she'd been at work and school and probably had bumped the phone off the hook, and I didn't really believe it. She seemed hurried to get off the phone and I was worried that I was going to get fired because of the calls, so we hung up after she told me "I want to see you tonight. I'll call you when I get home from work. Please don't miss the call MW".

I stopped by radio shack and picked up the parts to make a gizmo that would buzz and flash a light whenever the phone rang in the other room. The buzzer could wake the dead and at 2am it went off. It was a virtual repeat of the earlier night but this time I wouldn't let her drift off to sleep "Karen, I need to know what is going on!".

"I don't know MW, I just know that I need you and I love you... Everything else is confused".

"What about Fred?" I asked woodenly.

"I don't know about him either. Please MW I can't talk about it - can you let me work this out my way? I just need you to hold me".

I tried to find some calmness in me but fretted as I lay there. I felt sick and didn't know what to do and as she slept in my arms I decided I'd just try to ride it out. I left at dawn in a world turned permanently gray.

and horrible crash

2005-01-07T05:07:00.000-08:00

The glittering tore through my brain and without thought I slid past Karen into her kitchen. Karen grabbed my arm as I went past but I twisted against her thumbs and easily broke the hold. He was tall, much taller than me. I stopped in a balanced stance and snapped my right hand back, wrist locked upwards. The idiot was still on the flats of his feet - he didn't have a clue what was going to happen. It wouldn't take any finesse at all.

Karen whimpered "MW, please don't hurt him". "Hurt him?" my brain replied and the sarcasm and his helplessness poisoned my gleeful image of destruction. Rage turned to frustration and I howled out the door, breaking into a full run.

I flew past a lake and thought I saw open water - I flipped the ring towards it and pounded on. Gradually I realized my cheap indoor shoes were starting to tear and I could feel my feet blistering. A small bit of sanity emerged and I turned towards my parents house, finally slipping on some ice and collapsing two miles short. I got to my feet and my legs started to cramp. I realized my car was back at Karen's and it was at least six miles away.

I spotted a pay phone and hobbled to it trying to decide who to call - I had only one dime. I thought of my mother and tried walking again. Nope. I called her: "Mom, could you come pick me up? I'm at the funeral home on Margaret". I silently pleaded for her to just say yes.

"Is your car broken? Maybe you could find someone to help you with it so it gets fixed right...".

"Mom, I just need a ride, my car is fine" I said, and after several more exchanges she agreed to come and get me.

I slumped to the ground and realized my toes were frozen from the snow and slush. I started shivering uncontrollably and it seemed an eternity before my mother arrived. She started the second I got in "Where is your car?".

"It's at Karens." I took a deep breath and continued "She broke up with me and I needed a walk to clear my head". "Did she give you your ring back? Where is it?" my mother asked, and I blurted "She did and I threw it away". Too late I remembered she had given me the ring for my high school graduation. She was furious and I consented to go look for it before she would bring me to my car.

The lake was far off the direct route between my parents house and Karens, and my mom started to accuse me of lying about my walking - I couldn't even have a mental breakdown in a way she approved of. My throw had been wimpy and the ring was lying on the ice a short way from shore. Mollified mom dropped me off at my car and drove off. I stood for a moment thinking about going back to Karens but realized nothing good could happen. I set off driving towards no destination.

After a while I realized I was still shivering and drove to my parents house where I had been staying since Karen and I separated. I slunk to the basement and tossed and twitched the sleepless night away. Work and school dragged in a black haze the next day and I realized I had to get some sleep. I grabbed a six pack of beer on the way home and drank it in bed. I couldn't force myself to eat anything.

Sleep didn't come. I turned on the TV until they played the national anthem and signed off. I turned off the lights and lay in darkness. I wanted to disappear. The phone rang in the other room and I ran and picked it up.

"MW, I'm so sorry - I don't know what's wrong with me. I miss you so much and I really need you. I want to see you. Can you come over..." Karen trailed off uncertainly. Drunk and exhausted I managed a "Now?...". She leapt into the pause. "If you could MW, I want you so much". I simply said "OK, I'll see you in twenty minutes..."

and slip

2005-01-05T18:43:00.000-08:00

Life without Karen was very different, but it wasn't bad. Thea and I resumed our nightly talks and I found out she had stopped saying no to everyone who asked her out - now she was just saying no to everyone after they asked her out. I started hitting the bars with my friends a couple nights a week and had a lot of time to talk and think about where I wanted my life to go.

I decided to drop out of the internship, stop doing janitorial work, and when I started seeing Karen again I wouldn't stop seeing my other friends like I had before - I needed them to give me some balance and Karen some relief. I was satisfied with my new wisdom and was looking forward to being with Karen again.

Ruth, a friend from grade school that I hadn't heard from in seven or more years called me out of the blue. We had dinner together a couple of times and when I realized she was interested in something more, I made it clear I was committed to Karen. Ruth and I stopped going out for dinner but called each other occasionally just to chat.

The months passed and in November I called Karen and asked her out for a date. It was fun - dinner and a movie and parting with a long kiss. The dating became more frequent and more physical and as the new year opened we were in that same happy place we were before I moved into her house. I was seeing her several times a week as well as hanging out with friends. We gave each other lots of space and I knew she had friends she saw as well.

At the end of January she said she couldn't go out as much and started acting oddly. Whenever I asked her what was wrong she would bring up random things - her mom, her schoolwork, too tired. More pointed queries always brought assurances that we were OK but she wanted a little space again. Unlike the first separation this one worried me and I started to act a little odd myself.

On Valentines day I broke my bank account and gave her a gold necklace with a small diamond - I thought it would thrill her but it made her mad "You don't need to do things like this for me. You should be spending your money on classes". The night just got worse and when I dropped her off it was without a kiss or any plan for another date.

I stewed on that and then decided to stop by her house. I knocked at the door and when she answered she looked shocked "You shouldn't be here!".

"Why?"

She hesitated, then blurted "I've got a friend over..."

"What kind of friend is it that I shouldn't see?" I asked.

She wouldn't answer and I kept pressing her until finally I said "Are you going out with someone else?". The tears started to flow and I said "Karen, this isn't right, we're engaged." and looked towards her left hand. I realized she had kept it out of sight behind the door during the whole conversation and I realized my ring wouldn't be on it.

Frustration boiled up in me and I demanded to see her hand. She turned white and looked scared. From behind Karen I heard someone say "Show him your hand Karen". Karen reached into her pocket with her right hand and pulled out my class ring and gave it to me. I was speechless and again the voice said "Show him your hand".

Her left hand came slowly into the pale February light and to my horror I saw an enormous diamond, glittering from the finger where my ring used to be...

A dip

2005-01-04T05:40:00.000-08:00

She stopped talking and I rolled to look at her "I believe in visions...". My statement didn't seem to help her nerves but she continued "On my first day of high school I walked into the auditorium with Sherrie, Cara, and Darla, and I saw you at the far side, talking with Jeff and Kirk...". She hesitated again and I interjected "The same people that were at the New Years party". That seemed to actually make her more nervous and I decided it was time for me to be quiet and look encouraging.

"Oh yeah. That's right." she said "Anyway, I saw you talking and laughing and you smiled in a certain way, and suddenly it seemed like I had seen that smile a million times before, I felt like I had known it and you forever. The echoes of you were everywhere in my memory. Without thought, I said 'I'm going to marry you someday'. The moment ended and my friends were curious to know what had just happened. They said it was pretty creepy...".

She trailed off and we looked at each other. The nervous look took on a different character and she said "I know you now, and I know I really want that to happen". I watched the nervousness return and with only emotion guiding me I replied "I want that to happen too".

We held each other and after a long time eased back to cloud watching. I asked "What thought did you have when I mentioned the party?". The answer didn't come and as I turned to look at her, I got it. "It was a setup?" I laughed incredulously. She looked a little stricken and said "I kept waiting and waiting for us to meet and it never happened. You met Darla and I think talked to Sherrie, but you never seemed to see me. When you went off to college I didn't know what to do and so Darla and I decided on the New Years party." She again trailed off.

I assured her that I was very happy with her setting up the party and that I was more than a little flattered. We decided to use my class ring as a placeholder for an engagement ring as we were both absolutely broke and I was struggling to pay for college. We decided to wait until we had graduated before we married.

Slowly the realization that I was with the woman I was going to marry rose upwards from my sorely underutilized parts, and I convinced myself that I could be true to my resolve and still have sex. We were both virgins and it started out painfully but rapidly improved and soon it was adding a lot of joy to our already happy relationship.

The months piled up and at the end of my sophomore year I decided to take an electrical engineering internship. It meant that I had to take 9 months worth of credits in 6 months and it also meant I was working 6 months for a minimal wage. I took a second job doing factory work and a third doing janitorial. Our relationship was put on the back burner and the only time we saw each other was in between jobs. We used the little time we had to have sex.

Sometime during that summer her stepfather sustained a pretty devastating facial injury and was put on disability. He became increasingly depressed and goofy, and sometime in the early fall he started getting violent.

Karen's mother and I had become pretty close and Karen and her asked me to be there when she asked her husband for a divorce. I stood there looking big during the confrontation and when he started to look frustrated and violent I somehow managed not to look scared and asked him to 'please, just leave'.

I started staying at Karen's house to provide some protection. Karen and I set up a little apartment in the basement with our meager furnishings. I became increasingly a part of the family as I got to know all of her relatives. I finished my academic quarter in the spring and started my work quarter in the summer.

My boss was Roland Green and he apparently had come straight from hell to make my life miserable. He didn't want me in his department and he gave me every reason to avoid him. It was terrible and I brought my troubles home with me. Karen was also having a pretty rocky time with academic troubles and the divorce and we weren't able to support each other.

As summer came to a close we had an enormous fight and we decided to take a break from each other. The understanding was that we would stay engaged but give ourselves a couple months of being mostly out of contact so we could sort out our troubles.

I packed my stuff, kissed her tenderly and tearfully said "I'll see you in a couple of months...".

Dancing around

2005-01-01T20:26:00.000-08:00

I opened my eyes to a pre-dawn light that flared and tormented with each pulse of blood through my head. I started to groan but then remembered I might not be alone. The thought triggered a flurry of self inspection - still drunk, rumpled, mouth not even a little fresh and no toothbrush available, embarrassed about the spilled beer, and a little nervous about her reaction when she saw me sober. No doubt about it, I had to get out of there.

I slid carefully out of bed and grabbed my shirt and shoes, eased my way through the door and just before it shut I peeked through the crack. A spray of lush brown hair emerged from under the covers and that was all I could see.

The cold outside was brutal, but it stopped my head from spinning. I stopped at a diner and choked down some food, then went home and slept till late afternoon. When I woke I thought about all that had gone on and decided it was just drunken silliness and the kissing didn't mean anything. I hoped she wasn't hurt by it and wondered who she was. I seemed to remember seeing her back in high school, but I couldn't quite place her. Maybe she was on the volleyball team? Sharon Something? Didn't matter I guess.

I put on my jacket and went out for a bite to eat. When I pulled my wallet out to pay a slip of lined paper fluttered out and I grabbed it. "Call Me!" it said, followed by a number. A brain cell fired before expiring, and I had a vague recollection of Darla and ...um, her, telling me I had to call and giving me the paper. Maybe it did mean something to her after all.

When I got home I called Thea and asked her if she knew anybody that fit my vague description. Thea laughed at the situation but couldn't help. I got down my yearbook and looked through my class. Nope, Sharon Something wasn't there. I went through the other years and didn't find her, then looked at the volleyball team group photo. There was a Sharon in the picture and she looked somewhat as I remembered. I decided it had to be her. I looked up the number in the phone book and it didn't match the number on the slip. I didn't know what that meant and I was tired so I went to bed.

I put off making the phone call on Monday and on Tuesday evening I found myself in a bar with some friends. After several drinks I had some courage so I went to the phone and called. A female voice answered, and I said "Hi, this is MW". The voice replied "Hi MW, Karen is in bed, but she really wants to talk to you - hold on.". I had a moment to try to figure that out and then there was a breathless "Hi MW. Mom, hang up the phone". Social lubrication slid me into the conversation and we talked a while and she asked me if I'd like to go watch some friends play hockey on Thursday. We agreed on a time and I let her go.

I worked on my car on Wednesday and Thursday and had it running almost well and somewhat clean when I picked her up. We drove to the parking lot at the ice rink and when I turned the car off she was in my arms. We kissed until the lot was empty.

Months passed and we talked and played in a halo of endlessly falling snow. As March drew to a close we were lying together in a post tobaggon crash tangle and she kissed me and declared "I love you". Everything in me surged together and without hesitation I happily declared my love for her.

Winter turned to summer and we were lying together watching clouds and talking about mysticism and she took a deep breath, and hesitantly said "I had a vision once..."

The party begins

2004-12-30T08:54:00.000-08:00

New years eve arrived draped in bright snow sparkling under a frigid white moon. The car engine groaned reluctantly as it turned over, and I peered through the tiny opening in the frost on my windshield. I drove slowly on the snow packed roads and arrived at the party later than I intended.

I styrofoam crunched my way up the walk and opened the door to a blast of warm air and loud music. Jeff and Kirk were seated on the couch getting sloshed and four girls rushed to the door to greet me.

Darla, my friends sister, took my coat and introduced me to the other three girls. I missed the names in my half frozen and music overwhelmed state but figured it probably didn't matter. Darla led me to a cooler and then to her kitchen table. The other girls were already seated and we started playing a drinking game involving cards and shot glasses of tequila.

Jeff and Kirk joined us and I proceeded to lose or maybe win and I downed shot after shot. I thought that I was getting an abnormal amount of attention, but decided it was the tequila. Wish fulfillment is so much easier when I'm toasted.

One of the girls plopped into my lap and kissed me. She was soft and warm and kissed wonderfully and I lost myself in the moment. When I emerged I noticed the game had ended and people were thrashing around in the living room and I concluded maybe they were dancing. It looked fun so we joined in, jumping around until we collided with a couch, then toppling into a tangled embrace.

Dick Clark went off the air and the party started to break up. I closed one eye to reduce the number of people in the room and attempted to see if Jeff or Kirk were still around but everyone still doubled and smeared. I closed both eyes and was watching the colors when I felt a hand on my arm and Darla said "You'd better sleep here tonight".

She led me to a darkened room and I took off my shirt and shoes, set my beer on the headboard, and dropped into the queen sized bed. Just as the spinning room was whirling me off to sleep, the door opened and the girl I'd been kissing came in "This is the only bed with room for me. Would you mind if I shared it with you?".

I'm guessing I said it was OK because she climbed in and a moment later we were kissing again. Always the class act, I broke for a moment to sip my beer and clumsily dumped it on her shirt. I apologized and she said it didn't matter and that we'd better go to sleep.

I was terribly embarrassed but drunk beyond repair so I kissed her goodnight and rolled on my left side to sleep. I can't sleep any other way and was sorry this put my back towards her, but thought that I had already messed things up so much it probably didn't matter.

I was mostly asleep when I felt her sit up and heard a rustle of fabric. A moment passed and then I felt an arm slip around me, her hand resting on my chest. Her bare breasts pressed into my back but I was too far gone to do anything and I wasn't sure what I wanted, so I just lay there pretending to be asleep. Pretend became reality, and as I passed out I thought I heard her breathe "I'm going to marry you someday...".

Driven

2004-12-28T13:57:00.000-08:00

Jean unlatched the door and got out of the car, re-entering on the passengers side just as Peter exited the bank. When Peter got in I told him I needed to get going and asked him to drop me off at school. Jean asked if I needed anything there, and then to my negative response she told Peter to just bring me to my house. On arrival I jumped out and waved goodbye, desperately trying to avoid Jeans gaze.

I thought about calling Peter but wasn't even sure what his last name was. I didn't want to have that conversation anyway and I decided I'd just not do anything and hope for the best. I've always liked the head in the sand method of handling difficult situations.

Around 8:30PM I was thinking of what I would tell Thea in my nightly talk when the phone rang. My mother snatched it up and I prepared to run downstairs so I could talk to Thea in private. Mom looked puzzled for a moment, then laughed and said "Sure, that won't be any problem. I'll tell him you're coming. Bye!". My mom hung up and said "That was your friend Jean - she asked if she could drop by and give you a ride in her new car. I told her you could, and she'll be here in 5 minutes. Who's Jean?". I replied "Someone from school, mom", and bolted before she asked questions I really didn't know how to answer.

I ran to my bedroom and threw on different clothes, then ran out the door in time to see a beater tan malibu drive up. My mom stepped out and murmured "New car?". I muttered "I have no idea" and got in Jeans car. She pulled around the block and stopped "I'm sorry about all this, but I had so much fun talking today and I wanted to see you, and I was afraid you'd say no... I told Peter...".

I looked at her, trying to catch up - "What did you tell Peter?".

"That I wanted to talk to you tonight. We've only had three dates, and it really wasn't going anywhere, so ..."

I tried to make sense of it - "So... Is Peter OK?".

"I think so. We could never find anything to talk about, and I think we made each other nervous. If you don't mind, I'd like to drive around the lakes and watch the sunset".

I liked sunsets and had really liked talking with her. I didn't know what to think and so I vaguely nodded assent while resolving to talk to Peter whenever I next saw him.

She took off, driving confidently, and we were soon deep in conversation. We finally noticed that a couple hours had passed and she dropped me off, letting me know that she lived just on the other side of the field from my house.

I talked to Peter and found that Jean had pretty accurately summed things up. With that behind me I started talking to Jean whenever I could, and we would go for drives any time she could get her parents car. After a while our friends started treating us as a couple and, unlike Susy, they loved Jean. Jean had a rapier wit and could converse well on a variety of topics. She could be cultured one moment and telling dirty jokes the next. She was a joy to be around.

It took a long time for our first kiss, and I was fine with that. I liked our friendship and liked Jean just the way she was, confident, independent, and fun. I didn't really want anything to change. The first kiss was on a subzero day in a minimally heated cabin where we were staying with a group of kids and counselors. We were talking as always and scrunching closer together to stay warm, and suddenly we were kissing. It went on for hours. We didn't care who saw us or knew.

We became more physically intimate as winter broke, and as spring came into fullness we started going to drive-ins. Jean's parents car was pretty small and what we could do was limited, which again seemed like a good thing.

In mid-summer we were out hiking around and we stopped hand in hand to look at a field in bloom. I was telling Jean how beautiful I thought the yellow butterflies floating through the purple and gold flowers were, and she replied "I'm falling in love with you". My heart thumped and something twisted inside of me.

I didn't really know how I felt, and the times I'd told Susy I'd loved her without really knowing what that meant rose up in me, and I pulled Jean into a hug and kissed her deeply and with all the passion I felt for her. I thought then that it was enough.

A couple weeks went by and Jean and I spent a lot of time together. Everything seemed normal to me, and I was both relieved and disappointed that Jean hadn't talked about her love. After dinner one night at my house, Jean and I set off across the field to walk her home. We stopped under a huge tree and kissed, and under a full August moon Jean pulled me down to the grass with her.

She unbuttoned my shirt, kissing my chest, and with my willing help we removed her top. Her hands were everywhere and I was immensely aroused. She kicked off her pants while we were locked in a kiss, and forced my hand between her legs. I touched for a while and then she gasped for me to make love to her. I kissed her harder and removed my hand. She asked again and I moved apart and told her of my resolve to save myself for my wife. I tried to hold her and kiss her but she pushed me away, starting to cry as she dressed herself.

She angrily set off towards her house. I tried to walk with her but she kept shoving me away and I finally settled for following her to make sure she got home OK.

After that she never called me. When I called her she would be courteous but brief, and after a couple weeks I found out she was going out with someone else.

The funk I had felt after Susy hit me with redoubled force. I now truly believed that there was something bad about me. Why couldn't I have told Jean I loved her? Why did I work so hard to stay with Susy when I didn't feel good about her? What the hell was wrong with me? I resolved to stay out of relationships until I could figure out some answers, and after a couple of months the funk passed and I got back in the swing of things.

I was asked out several times, but it was never serious. The longest time that I went out with anyone was with DJ, and that was only a couple weeks.

After two years of staying out of relationships, I felt pretty emotionally strong. I didn't feel so isolated and was pretty comfortable being a loner even when I was around other couples. I had graduated from high school and was just finishing my first semester of college, and I was wondering if maybe it was time to start dating again.

Out of the blue I received an invitation to a new years eve party hosted by the sister of a girl I had known in high school. When I talked to my three best friends, they told me they had gotten the invitation too, and they wanted to go. No one knew why we had been invited, and we were all curious...

Bounce

2004-12-28T05:27:00.000-08:00

The meadow was lush with spring grass and tilted into the sunlight. Pine and birch swayed gently in the light breeze and the patterns in the tree tops down slope were hypnotic. We kissed and solemnly spread our blanket. Our eyes met and we stepped toward each other, first gently and then more fervently kissing.

Our fingers fumbled with the buttons of our shirts, and with a swish of fabric our bare skin met. Panting a little, kisses hotter, I lay her down on the blanket and straddled her. My jeans pulled tight and her breathing came quickly as she looked me over.

I bent forward and she closed her eyes. I gently kissed each eyelid, then moved to her mouth. The kiss was soft and deep and lingered. I moved lower, kissing each breast with reverence, marveling at the golden tones in the warm sun.

Still lower, I kissed her bellybutton, and then with ragged breath I unbuttoned her jeans. Her hips canted upwards and my heart pistoned as I began pulling them slowly down. I saw her shudder and her breathing changed. I looked up in time to see a tear trickle down her cheek and when she saw me looking she started to sob.

The stew of hormones made thinking difficult and I couldn't understand what was happening. I fumbled for a moment trying to pull her jeans into place, then lay down beside her and pulled her into my arms. She buried her face in my neck and I kissed her hair and asked gently "What's wrong?". She sobbed "I want to be able to tell my husband he is the only one who has ever touched me there. I pray to God that that man is you, MW, but until that happens I want to wait. I want it to be something special for my husband...".

I lay there for a moment, a welter of emotions running through me. I told her I understood and admired what she said and that everything was fine between us. I pulled her tighter and we lapsed into silence, letting the yellow sun warm our bare upper bodies.

She relaxed a little and I thought about what she said. I never thought anyone could want to marry me and I chased that thought for a while. She had told me she loved me often, but it never seemed real to me. Marriage? I had never really thought about the future, it always just sort of happened to me.

She shifted a little and her breathing slowed. I kissed her hair and shoulders gently with a new feeling of respect and affection. She was saving herself? It wasn't a new thought, but hearing it from her affected me profoundly. I liked what it said about her, and as I pondered the implications I had a minor epiphany and realized I wanted to save myself too. I wanted that feeling of having something special for someone that I was really committed to. I felt a warmness spread through me and I let myself go with it. We lay in the afternoon sun, watching the shadows shift around our little meadow, and when the cool shade finally reached us we put on our shirts and went home.

As spring turned to summer I came to realize the dynamic between us had shifted. I really liked that core part of her I had glimpsed, but it was rarely exposed. Our mutual agreement to cease our explorations of each other robbed our relationship of a lot of it's excitement, and we had to fall back on talking and activities. Our styles and interests were different and we didn't converse well, and activities are limited when you are 15 years old.

Summer peaked and faded, and in the dog days of August she told me she thought we should date other people. She was gentle and kind and loving and her final kiss melted off my lips as we cried together.

In the weeks that followed I fell into a funk, becoming more and more convinced that she had seen the badness I knew was inside me. I had thoughts of becoming a hermit and retreated to reading books and endlessly walking the fields near our house.

In October the school held a science fair. I had to attend because I had a display as part of a mandatory class assignment. Peter, an acquaintance I didn't know too well, stopped at my display and introduced me to his girlfriend Jean. The three of us hit it off and ended up walking around the fair, joking and talking about all the displays.

We were having so much fun we decided to go out for pizza and the three of us piled into Peters car. We had dinner and drove around for a while, Jean and Peter in the front with me in the back, music blasting as we drove along with the windows down. Peter decided he needed money so he drove to his bank and went inside.

Jean arched around and looked at me for a moment, then climbed over the seat into the back. She put her hand on my leg and said "I like you. Can I call you tonight?"...

Sacred Seven

2004-12-27T05:58:00.000-08:00

The kiss was all I cared about, and it lasted long. A door clattered and a "Susy?" echoed. "I'm just saying bye to MW, Mom", Susy called back, and with a quick kiss and sliding touch she scampered around the house.

I slowly got on my bike, carefully positioning myself on the hard seat. I pedaled home slowly at first, and then with exuberance, taking the dirt trail through the oak woods at full speed in the dark. Her taste and scent lingered, and I kept feeling her hands on my waist.

I hung out with my friends the next day and never mentioned the kiss. Jeff, who had been at the previous nights gathering, kept pointing out annoying Susy statements and I just grunted noncommitally. A part of me agreed with my friend, another part was already coming up with explanations for Susy's behavior. I just wanted to get lost in the kiss again.

The next day I avoided Susy at the start of school. I had come to the conclusion that it was some sort of misunderstanding and I was just living in a fantasy that someone could want to touch me. In third hour we had a class together and I took my regular seat as far away from the teacher as possible. Susy normally sat in the front row, but she beelined her way through the door and sat down in the desk next to mine. I managed not to cringe and smiled a "Hi!".

The teacher told us that we were going to watch a film for class that day - after the lights went out Susy's desk scratched along the floor and a moment later her hand slid into mine. She slowly leaned until she was just touching me, and I sat awkwardly, acutely aware of her and worried that someone might notice. We maintained that pose till just before the end of the film when Susy carefully resumed classroom mode.

Susy walked beside me as we left the class and suddenly the teacher was beside us. "I don't expect much from MW, but you know better Susy. Don't do it again...". He peeled off and we walked in silence to my locker. As I turned towards her she laid her hand on my chest, looked a little scared and said "I'm so sorry about that. I just needed to touch you. He shouldn't have said that about you.".

She was so vulnerable I just wanted to make her feel better. I instinctively gave her a comforting hug, understanding and cringing at the implications of her happy sigh. I felt her softness press against me and was just starting to give into the feeling when I noticed my friend Jeff giving me a dark look and disbelieving head shake. He turned and walked off, and I resisted the urge to push Susy away.

From then on Susy took every opportunity to be near me, and I couldn't bring myself to ask her to leave me alone. She brought me little gifts and wrote beautiful letters and slowly wooed me into playing the role of boyfriend. My doubts always went away when we kissed and touched each other, and when the doubts resurfaced I pushed them away. Deep inside I felt that Susy was the best I could hope for, and I suspected that she was better than I deserved.

The only friend who was willing to put up with Susy and I as a couple was Thea. We still talked daily and called each other nightly, happily gossiping and talking about anything that occured to us. We never talked about Susy.

Winter kept Susy and I from having any alone time together, and all our kisses and touching occured in theaters and dark corners at school. As spring arrived we finally could spend time together, and I would bike to her house whenever her parents were going to be out for a while.

Ever so slowly I explored her body. It took weeks before she was comfortable with me stroking her rib cage. Still longer to where I could trace the outlines of her breasts beneath sweater and shirt. I didn't really want to push her beyond her limits, but I still found talking to her annoying and I was addicted to that breathless feeling I had when we touched. Occasionally I stopped exploring and after a while she would start moving my hand to her breasts.

Somehow I came up with the notion that kissing the 'sacred seven' points of our bodies was a goal for our love. I defined the sacred seven as eyes, lips, nipples, bellybutton, and RIGHT THERE. Slowly she accepted the premise, and on a warm late spring day we set off, blanket in hand, for a private little grassy spot in the woods...

Gently fumbling

2004-12-23T07:08:00.000-08:00

I just realized I have a pair of anniversaries coming up on new years eve, and having just read a number of blogs on relationships I thought I'd share some thoughts on earlier years in preparation for the story behind the upcoming anniversaries.

My parents wanted humble children. Any praise of family members was quickly met with a disapproving "You'll swell his head". If perchance you ever accidentally said something good about yourself, you got the ever popular "Don't toot your own horn". If someone outside our family praised one of the children, they were quickly assured that the accomplishment was purely happenstance.

The icing on the cake was that my parents were always looking for positive things to say about almost anyone else. Aside from the belief that a good child is always humble they were largely excellent parents, and in some ways that made things worse because I never could really credibly complain about them.

So here it is. I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT MY PARENTS! And on a blog no less, will wonders never cease.

My siblings all have their own issues, but I won't go into that (who cares - let them get their own blogs). I came to believe that even though superficially I was a pretty good and likeable person, deep inside I was seriously bad. I believed that anyone who got to know me very well would see how rotten I was and immediately be repulsed. It made me really uncomfortable about letting people get close to me.

Layer that on top of the fact that I am, in fact, a bit odd (read the rest of this blog for some inkling of what that means :) ), and you might get a sense of how isolated and disconnected I felt growing up.

At 14 most of my buddies either had a girlfriend or had at least had some relationship with one. Thea was a friend who happened to be a girl, but I never considered her my girlfriend. We talked most nights on the phone and every day at school, but something never clicked in me. Knowing what I know now, I realize she felt differently.

Susy was the new girl in our school. She was basically a good person, wanting to do things for others and always trying to be pleasant, but she lacked a sense of what others needed and frequently annoyed the hell out of everybody. She was one of those really smart people who doesn't quite know how to connect.

Thea was sympathetic and started inviting Susy to all our little clique's gatherings. Thea wanted Susy to be included so she pressed me into service, and I did my best to be nice to her.

On a beautiful fall evening our little clique of six had all gathered at Susy's house to play board games. The evening was fun, full of laughter and friendship, and I felt at ease and happy. I had ridden my bicycle and had no specific time I needed to be home, so when all the other kids had been picked up by their parents I stayed behind to help Susy clean up (at Thea's whispered suggestion, of course).

Susy and I chatted politely as we tidied up, and then she followed me outside. I bent to unlock my bike, and when I stood up she was right in front of me. My shirt had ridden up a little when I bent over, and Susy touched the bare skin at the top of my jeans, and then slid her finger across my stomach, slowly tracing the top of my jeans.

I couldn't breathe. I'd never been kissed, never been touched by a girl, and here I was with a finger moving less than an inch from RIGHT THERE. She looked directly at the bulge in my jeans and then lazily traced her finger back. She placed her other hand low on my hip and pulled me in. I struggled to inhale and found a pair of lips, slightly open, moist and soft, and so I wrapped my arms around her and savored it all - thighs and tummies pressing, chest against breasts. I had my first kiss, and it was luscious.

More later...

Mysticicle

2004-12-21T08:25:00.000-08:00

The lake stretched out ahead, snow covered and untraveled. It was 10 below but I was dressed well and was comfortably heated from the exertion of snowshoeing a couple of miles.

I stepped out on the lake, feeling the ice under the snow with my poles and fell into a rhythmic swaying stride. I resumed my reverie, thinking of a movie where frogs fell like rain.

I tripped a little and snapped to attention. I was on the far side of the lake and my snowshoes were butting into reeds. They stretched across most of the edge of the lake on this side, and I looked for a path through them.

Failing that, I bent down and unlashed my snowshoes, attaching them to my backpack so they spread out like a pair of wings. I enjoyed having an angelic shadow.

I lifted my foot to step into the reeds and the ice let loose. Instinctively I fell forward, spreading my arms and grabbing the edge of the ice as my legs and torso plunged into the lake. The bottom was organic glop, offering nothing solid to stand on. I tried clawing my way out and the ice was too rotten to gain any purchase.

In desperation I pushed back and felt a solid edge of ice against my back, and in a surge of panic I flailed myself out of the water, ending up on my back with most of my weight on the spread snowshoes.

The cold was biting, and I could see the water on my boots already beginning to freeze. I gently rolled to the side and unhooked my snowshoe, and then ever so carefully put it on my foot. I unhooked the other snow shoe and torqued to put it on, sure that at any moment the ice would fail and dump me head first into the lake. Death by freeze brain!

The ice held, and I carefully rolled to my feet, first gradually walking and then moving to a full rolling run, scared that at any moment hypothermia would set in.

The run generated so much heat that I was trailing plumes of steam in the frigid winter air.

I was dry and laughing about it by the time I got back to my car.

Flat Stanley

2004-12-18T11:12:00.000-08:00

On a very warm day last fall, I was lying in the basement on a makeshift bed trying to get cool enough to take a nap. I had made the bed by throwing a piece of plywood on a pair of cots and putting an air mattress on the plywood. I was alone in the house.

I was lying on my stomach facing a wall when I had this odd sense that my younger brother was standing behind me and trying to warn me of something. I knew he couldn't (and wouldn't) be there because the house was locked and we don't get along all that well, so I lay there trying to figure out what was going on.

All the sudden I felt an odd bumping down by my feet, sort of like a puppy playing around. I started to turn my head to see what was causing the feeling and instantly I was smashed down into the mattress by on overwhelming force.

My first thought was "this is trying to kill me!". I started to struggle and get free, but the pressure was immense and uniform, heaviest at my head and shoulders and tapering to somewhat less near my feet. I had the sense that my head was 'clamped' in place. I wasn't able to turn it. I was able to slide my hands out a little to my sides, and I started to push up against the pressure.

I could feel the cots bending and I thought they might collapse, and then suddenly the pressure was gone. I lay there motionless because I was afraid if I moved it would come back. I could hear the cot legs scraping on the floor as they unbowed, and I could feel the air mattress shifting as it slowly resumed it's normal shape.

Gradually the normal house sounds became noticeable - my sense is that they were gone during the struggle. Finally I turned my head and looked around, and seeing nothing I got up and looked through the house. It was still empty and pretty much the same as it always was.

I've since slept in the basement several times with no incidents, and my little kids don't have any problems playing down there. I'm very sensitive to feelings and I didn't really get any sense of motivation (other than "this is trying to kill me").

If it was a dream, it was the most realistic dream I've ever had... Well, it was utterly realistic except for the fact that it was totally bizarre.

I'd be interested in any thoughts you might have...

Cut!

2004-12-17T05:26:00.000-08:00

My cousin Ad was mad. I had made him sit on the dune with me while I pretended to meditate. I can be infinitely patient when working on annoying my cousin.

After a while I relented and he alternately waded and bounded across the dunes back to our rented Grand Am. He was polishing off a beer when I got there.

I grabbed a beer and jumped in the passengers seat. Ad, intent on winning our endless dominance game, got in the car and floored it and we tooled off through the sand, Ad looking for every opportunity to scare me with high speed traversals of the lower slopes of the dunes.

I don't scare easily when I'm hammered, and I was enjoying the wind and scenery and the ear shattering music we were playing.

Off in the distance Ad spotted the top of a palm tree. His scream of 'oasis!' merged with my screamed 'mirage!' and he jerked the wheel for a closer look.

The oasis came clearer as we rapidly approached. Palm tops. Four palms. A little pond. Green grass. Three curvy women in bikinis.

Ad rammed on the brakes and we stared as we slid to a stop. The roostertails of dust that had been trailing us washed over the scene and we heard someone yelling. Angrily yelling. Ad turned off the car and we both looked left.

A person was threading his way through a couple of huge cameras. He looked seriously pissed. I nervously slugged my beer as the man yelled some more.

He broke into a run and my cousin, galvanized into action, fumbled with the keys as I screamed "drive!". The engine caught and Ad floored it in reverse, did a perfect rockford, and flinging dust everywhere we roared off into the dunes. Looking out the back window I noticed the 7-Up backdrops around the set and finally got what it was we had interrupted.

I snagged a couple more beers, cranked the tunes, and settled in, waiting for our next moment of enlightenment in the desert.

Junebug

2004-12-14T13:25:00.000-08:00

A long time ago, about the time we added 'in a galaxy far far away', my friend Joe and I were out riding bicycles.

We pedaled leaning back, hands off the handlebars, enjoying the warm night and cool breeze. We alternated between talking and singing and as we crested a hill and started heading down we were fully into 'Little Pink Houses'.

Midway down, right at the height of an "Oooh Yeeah", the bug hit. I'm assuming by the way it clogged my throat it was a Junebug. A big Junebug. With claws that dug into the base of my tongue. Really scary little scrabbly claws.

I screamed and veered. Joe screamed and dodged. I rammed my fingers into my mouth and our bikes collided. The three of us hit the curb, and Joe and I flipped from our bikes and rolled down the cool suburban grass. Somewhere in the rolling I stopped feeling the claws.

I still try not to think of where the bug went.

Future memories

2004-12-13T13:33:00.000-08:00

Not too long ago I was telling TB about a series of hikes I had taken. For three consecutive days I had heard a lonely loon calling down on the south side of the lake where I was hiking. On the fourth day the loon called again, and then from the north side I heard the call returned. I loved the romance of it all, and I was really into the feeling when I was relating this to TB.

TB smiled in that way I love, said something about how sweet that was, and then commented "Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could live near nature, day after day, so you could learn all the animals stories...".

At the conclusion of that sentence I was hit by an overwhelming memory of somewhere I've never been before.

The visual portion of the memory was a home, built into a hillside facing southwest. There were two stories exposed on the side away from the hill, and each of the stories had windows across the entire side of the house.

The upper story had a porch with wood railing. The roof overhung the porch with plants hanging from hooks and a table and chairs. Inside the house on the second story was a living room that stretched the entire length of the room. There was a fireplace set into the west wall and comfortable furniture.

On the north side of the house was a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. The bedroom had a skylight and a large bed that mostly filled the room.

The lower level was setup as a craft shop. There was a long bench with seating for two, good lighting, a kiln and wheel, and a variety of tools.

Off the patio there were well worn paths on the hillside. I sensed that the center path went down the steep hillside to a creek or lake. To the right was a path that led to an outcropping of rock, and to the left was a sidewalk and stairs that led around the house to the driveway and garage.

I had the overwhelming sense that I walked that creek every day, and that I frequently had a companion that loved it as much as I. I sensed I sat on the outcropping of rock and occasionally wrote, but more often just meditated.

The living room made me think of small gatherings of intimate friends, and everything, especially the bedroom, had this feeling of a happier more complete me than I've ever been, utterly mingled with a familiar other presence.

I wrote a scene staged in this house the way I imagine things to be. Despite the fact that this came to me as a memory, it had the same real feeling that my other visions have had. A part of me believes that this will happen.

Certainly if wishes came true it would.

Stop digging!

2004-12-13T05:46:00.000-08:00

Well, those last two posts pretty much tanked my rating.

You would think I would learn something from that.

Sharp shade of winter

2004-12-11T08:11:00.000-08:00

When I was 17 I was the leader of our high school's downhill ski club. The night before an outing to a local ski resort, I was lying in bed listening to my stereo. The only light was the green glow of my Harmon Kardon 330b receiver, and I was lost in reverie while listening to Demons and Wizards by Uriah Heep.

Suddenly the music faded out and was replaced by the swishing of skis. My eyes refocused on the brightness of a night lit ski hill spread out below me. I had a tremendous sense of deja-vu as I scanned down the slope.

I noticed DJ halfway down the hill, cutting nice long turns. I'd been noticing DJ a lot since she'd joined the ski club. She had the thinness of youth and the hair and breasts of a Nordic blonde. Her figure intimidated me, and I had never even thought of talking to her.

DJ took a long sweeping turn and started traversing above a slushy spot in the slope. I could see the glare ahead of her and knew she was headed for ice. The tails of her skis kicked out, and she overcorrected and her tips caught the slush. The deja vu feeling had already propelled me into turning, and I pushed off and headed down slope.

As I descended I saw DJ's ski torque up and sideways, the safety strap continuing to twist her leg after the binding broke free. She went down hard, grinding her knee into the slush and ground beneath. As she rotated to a stop I pulled up next to her, released her safety straps, jammed her skis and poles into the snow, yelled across the slope to a friend to grab the skis, and picked her up.

The deja vu persisted and I knew where the first aid station was. I skied to it with DJ in my arms, somehow kicked off my skis, and carried her inside placing her on the padded table I knew I would find.

Uriah Heep suddenly filled my ears and I was back in my world of green light. Again I knew the vision was somehow real, and again the feeling was kind of familiar. I didn't go to sleep for a long time.

While skiing the next day I kept waiting for it to happen. I kept a watchful eye on DJ, loosely following her from slope to slope. Eventually everything aligned and it happened exactly as I had seen the night before. I would never had been able to perform so flawlessly if I hadn't already experienced how to do it.

The person manning the first aid shack examined DJ and told her she should have it looked at, but it wasn't broken and she could wait. We called DJ's parents and as she was in considerable pain we decided to meet at a nearby hospital. One of the club members had a station wagon and I pressed them into volunteering to drive us to the hospital. I stayed in the back with DJ's head cradled in my lap and we held hands for the 45 minute drive.

We left the hospital with DJ's knee wrapped and iced with a prescription for pain killers. She and I sat shoulder to shoulder in the back of her parents car for the ride to my house.

The next day she looked me up and asked me out on a date, and I accepted. We were an item for about as long as it took her knee to heal, and then it was over. Our friendship continued till we headed off to different colleges.

Her breasts were everything I had imagined.

The vision thing

2004-12-10T05:45:00.000-08:00

OK, you say - we get the writer part, but what's up with that mystic thing?

I'm glad you asked! If you've read Fuzzball, you know I think I can sense the possibilities along future paths. Sometimes it gets a lot clearer than that.

When I was 13, I was riding in the back seat of my parents car, heading north in the late winter. I was daydreaming and looking out the window. My inner daydream vision suddenly became much more vivid and detailed - richer in a way that is hard to describe. The sense I had was not unfamiliar. Somehow or other I knew what I was seeing was real.

I was looking at myself, my two brothers, and my cousin. We were in a rough line, shoulder to shoulder. We were much older and noticeably broader. We were sporting a variety of facial hair, from two day unshaven to full beard. Our dress was ragged, multiple layers of jackets and sweaters with rips showing the layers beneath. Our clothing and skin was grimy and our hair uncombed. There were blood crusted scratches on our exposed skin.

We stood with an air of triumph. The light behind us was a flat gray on dead trees and torn up pines. Our faces were reflecting a golden flickering light, and we had this expression of happiness and exhaustion, and something extra - an uninhibited sort of wacky confidence that I had never seen before.

I'm unsure of how I knew who it was because we were all thin teenagers when I had the vision, and the people in my vision were broad across the shoulders, with thick necks and big hands.

The vision faded and I was back in the car. With my comic book education I sort of concluded we would be fighting in some apocalyptic battle somewhere in the future. After many years had passed I had largely forgotten the whole thing.

In 1999, a massive storm ripped through northern Minnesota, blowing down thousands of trees in the BWCA. The storm didn't stop there and many miles away it struck again, taking down hundreds of trees on a piece of land owned by my extended family. This piece of land has deep spiritual significance to all of us, and the damage to it felt very personal. We were terrified as the summer wore on without rain. We knew we were living on borrowed time and a massive fire was inevitable if we didn't reduce the fuel load.

Summer turned to winter, and finally several large storms dropped a couple of feet of snow. My brothers and I met my cousin on our piece of property and we started a bonfire in a clearing and began dragging trees out of the woods to burn. We started the fire on Friday night on top of two or more feet of snow. We dragged hundreds of trees into the fire and by early Sunday it had grown to more than 10 feet across. The high for the weekend was 8 degrees below zero, and we spent the entire time dragging trees, briefly sleeping on whatever dry spot we could find in the warmth of the fire, and drinking heavily. It was tremendously fun despite the grueling work and cold weather, and we all got along wonderfully.

Late on Sunday afternoon we had let the fire burn down in preparation for us all going back to our homes. The four of us were standing shoulder to shoulder just sort of tiredly grooving on the fire, and suddenly I realized this was the vision I had seen 27 years ago. There we were, wearing our grubbiest clothes, much the worse for wear, scratched from dragging trees through the brush. We were triumphant and happy because we had almost certainly saved our forest from wildfire.

And that look I didn't recognize at the age of 13 - the look of something extra, a sort of uninhibited wacky confidence? Beer!

He ain't heavy

2004-12-09T07:31:00.000-08:00

One midwinter day I was looking for something to do, and perusing the papers I noticed there was a hot air balloon rally in a neighboring town. I bundled up in my marshmallow man winter garb and headed out to the frozen lake where the rally was launching from.

I watched for a little bit, and then was asked if I would like to help out. Apparently someone had noticed a similarity between me and ballast, so my job, along with many others, was to hold on to the basket while the balloon inflated enough to take off.

I wedged my puffiness into the crowd and grabbed onto the basket. As usual when confronted with new circumstances involving people, I shut down, and somehow or other missed the signal to let go. The balloon leaped into the air and I found myself dangling.

I quickly tried pulling myself into the basket and someone swatted my arm. I looked up to a scowl and headshake, and lacking other options, I let go.

Luckily I didn't know how far the balloon had risen, or I would have panicked. About the moment I realized I was still FALLING, I hit a snow drift, thankfully deep and not yet compacted. The drift and my voluminous winter garb averted the tragedy of me splatting or cracking through the ice for a plunge in the lake.

I climbed out of the snow drift and looked around sheepishly. Several people were watching to see the results of my accidental flight, but no one came to help, possibly fearing stupidity might be contagious.

I slunk off to my car, pride goneth after the fall...

Blowing the bear

2004-12-07T07:25:00.000-08:00

About 6 years ago in October I went on a solo backpacking trip. The temperature was well below freezing and the weather wasn't great, so I had most of northern Minnesota to myself. When I arrived at my intended campsite I decided I would skip it, because I was making much better progress than I expected and it was too early to turn in, so I set off in search of the next one.

The next campsite turned out to be perched on a 200 foot sheer cliff, and the wind was blowing hard enough that I was pretty sure my tent would blow out into space, giving new meaning to the phrase "air bed". Needless to say I skipped this one too, and set off with the intent of going to the next campsite.

I got to the Bear Lake campsite after another mile and a half, and I was tired. The sign for the campsite pointed down a trail which followed a crack downwards through the face of a 200 foot tall rock face. I went down the trail, and got to the base of the rock face and found there was a narrow trail that ran between the rock face and Bear Lake.

Bear Lake is a glacial cut lake, and it looked like it was at least 50 feet deep about one inch out from the shore line. The rock face was about 8 feet from the shore, and there was scree sloped from the rock face down to about 1 foot from the shore. The path went between the scree and the shore, and as my eye followed the path, I located the campsite about 200 yards away. It was complete with a bear. I looked for a little bit, and then decided I was too tired to climb back up the rock face, so I filled my water bottle from the lake and watched the bear.

The bear didn't do much, so I dipped another bottle full and set about purifying the water, and then stood up and noticed the bear was gone. I drank some water and redid my pack, and then stood up ready to hike to the campsite. I heard a little noise to my right, and turned to find the bear up on the scree slope about 3 feet away from me.

I slowly turned to face the bear, and tried to look big. The bear seemed bored. I tried to whistle, which is apparently not possible when you are scared out of your wits, so I spent a while blowing air at the bear. The bear tilted his head side to side, maybe enjoying the sensation. I then tried swearing at the bear "You goddamn f'ing bear! You're ruining my f'ing vacation". I tried several variations on that, and the bear went back to being bored. I finally couldn't think of anything else to do, and I *really* didn't want to climb the rock face, so I sidled my way down the path to the camp site. The bear promptly moved down the scree and plopped his butt square in the middle of the foot wide path.

I looked around at the campsite and found huge claw marks in the ground. A bear had broken a hand made picnic bench, had made teeth marks in the metal fire ring, and had pretty much tried to destroy everything man made at the site. On top of that I could see a lot of wolf tracks - apparently the camp site was smack dab on a prime path for animals heading for the lake.

I decided I couldn't stay at Bear Lake, and as the sun was getting low I decided I had to get moving. The bear was still meditating in the middle of the path, so I tried to make myself look as big as I could as I started down the path towards him. The bear blinked a couple of times as I approached, and then lumbered to his feet, turned around, and started leading me up the cliff face.

At one point the trail required a scramble up to a flat ledge. The bear did the scramble and disappeared. I couldn't see beyond the edge of the ledge, and I was sure the bear was just sitting there.

I took my hiking pole and popped it above the ledge provocatively several times, and getting no response, I slowly inched my head up above the edge. The bear was gone. I climbed the rest of the way up, and then hiked several miles to the next site.

I set up my tent in darkening twilight, and eventually slept.

When I woke up, there was a pile of bear poop just outside the tent door.

The song of the horse

2004-12-06T09:38:00.000-08:00

My last post received a lot of comments, and for that I am grateful. For a while the comments seemed to be giving me permission to separate from my wife - that doing this would maximize my wife's, my son's, and my own happiness. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to buy into that.

A lot of the reasoning for separating concerned the lessons that I was teaching my son. There is no doubt my son will learn poor lessons from me not being able to love his mother completely, but those lessons are pretty mild to the lessons he would learn from us separating and him having to live in two households - and he would still learn poor lessons about love.

My wife and I do really well as long as we don't talk very much. We are physically quite affectionate, and family cuddles are a daily thing.

The problem as I see it (and I'm sure she would see it differently) is that she cycles from self pity to sadness to worrying to anger. The first three are hard to be around but I think I might be able to deal with them, but when she explodes in anger it drives me away emotionally. Each one of these little incidents hardens my heart just a little bit more. The only good thing is she *never* blows up in front of my son.

I wrote my last post after enduring an hour long episode of middle of the night angry screaming. The outburst had it's usual cathartic affect, and Saturday night my wife and I spent a couple hours making love - naked massages, twining, several positions and orientations. Somewhere in the middle of it all, I gasped out 'I love you', which is true in several respects, and for the moment my wife is happy again.

There are plenty of opportunities for joy and happiness in my little family. They just don't involve a supportive and loving relationship between my wife and I.

So I'll continue to help raise my son the best I can, and wait for better options to present themselves. And who knows, maybe the horse will sing...

(and thank you to those who offered support, sympathy, and commiseration. I really appreciated your comments).

Into the unknown

2004-12-04T11:52:00.000-08:00

I think I've gotten into some trouble.

I have been living a bargain I made with myself. My goal was to stay in my marriage and to try to keep things happy and civil until my son was grown enough to handle my wife and I going separate ways.

I've been living this way for a couple years now, and things have gone reasonably well. I've encouraged my wife to spend time with her friends, and I've been spending a lot of time hiking and exploring my spiritual side and trying to spend as little time with my wife as I can get away with.

This seems to have been working, but for the last several weeks I just haven't been able to say 'I love you' to my wife, and it's understandably starting to bother her.

Other than my son, there is nothing to hold us together. What little we had in common at the beginning has been poisoned by our arguments. I know we would both be happier if we went our separate ways, but I can't bear the thought of hurting my little boy.

I don't know what is going to happen. I feel very alone and not sure of what I want or need.

For now I will just ride the current and try to deal honorably with whatever issues present themselves. This is all so sad...

Adrift

2004-12-03T13:33:00.000-08:00

TB comes home today but I won't see her for a week. I miss her terribly. I wish wishes came true.

I've had several transcendent moments while she has been gone. I've seen...

Two deer silhouettes bounding impossibly high along the black horizon, backs arched and legs parallel to the ground.

The white blade of a shooting star, slashing the winter night.

The three quarter moon in the waves while lying on the beach in 19 degree weather.

Three bald eagles flying in the last gasp of orange sunset.

Snow tufted pines following a ghost lit snow trail, stretching out like promises.

TB is the only person I know who feels transcendent in this way, who finds and becomes love in these moments. I would give anything to package up all the beauty I have seen and all these moments I have felt, and give them whole to her.

I miss her terribly.

I wish wishes came true...

Sweet November

2004-11-30T13:21:00.000-08:00

I met Penny when I was in my early teens. We had mutual friends and we saw each other often at parties and get togethers. She was quiet and thoughtful, laughed occasionally but was inclined towards the serious. I considered her a distant friend who was easy to talk to but I never missed her when she wasn't there.

She moved away during college and I saw her on rare occasions through my twenties. We shared our updated life's stories, had a drink or two, and parted as friends. We both stayed single and I think that made us become a little closer as all our friends got married.

I met Jon in my early 30's. We quickly became drinking buddies and had some intense times together. On the surface Jon seemed like your classic happy go lucky kind of guy, but after knowing him for a while he opened up, and I found he had a lot of depth. He also was single and we both talked a lot about finding the right person.

We had come to the conclusion that we might never find 'the one', and I think both of us were expecting to be single for the rest of our life. We were both witnessing our friends who had gotten married earlier starting to have marital problems and divorces, and being a lifelong single was starting to seem pretty attractive. We joked about that a lot, but underneath I know we were feeling pretty lonely.

In my mid-30's a group of friends chartered a day cruise, and Penny and I spent most of the time at the rail drinking spiked hot chocolate and talking. We agreed on most everything, and it was still really easy to talk to her. She was attractive in her own way and I enjoyed being around her. I kept thinking about asking her out but never did. I think she even joked about it, but neither of us took it seriously.

The next time I heard from Jon and Penny was at a summer camping trip. They showed up late, arm in arm. They had accidentally met each other for the first time a month or so earlier and they had been inseperable ever since.

They were married soon after and every time I saw them they were together and happy. They were always aware of each other, sharing looks or hanging out together. It was truly beautiful.

After a couple of years of marriage, Penny was diagnosed with breast cancer. I saw her often during this period, and she and Jon were always smiling, first when the news was grim and then even more so when it looked like Penny had caught it in time. She lost her breasts but their love seemed to just take that in stride.

Their marriage went on, and as Penny was approaching her five years clear of cancer, it reappeared. This time the cancer spread fast, and on a November day when the wind was howling and the snow was coming down in sheets, I got the word that Penny had died.

I drove in terrible weather the 150 miles to where they had lived and Penny had died. There was a memorial service that night, and when Jon got up to talk, he was still smiling. He said "I am the luckiest person on Earth because I have had these years with Penny. She taught me how to be happy regardless of what happens. She gave me true joy just by loving me and being with me. She showed me how to give of myself, and she taught me how to love. She is the best person I've ever known".

He turned to the casket and the smile he gave was so full of love and affection there wasn't anyone in the room who didn't feel it.

I sat dumbfounded, shocked that a love that deep could exist. It made me feel like I was the one who was suffering a loss and Jon was the lucky one.

Jon married again a few years later. He told me he and Penny had talked about it, and he knew that that is what she wanted for him.

After all this time, I now know how Jon could lose Penny and still feel he was the luckiest person on earth. I've recently met someone I feel that way about, but will probably never have the chance to be with romantically, and still I feel blessed...

... and to Penny - I miss our friendship, and I think of you often...

Charlie Brown

2004-11-29T06:48:00.000-08:00

I'm reliving a nightmare. Everywhere I turn there are these statues. Oh my god, the statues!

I'm in my early 40's. I thought I had worked through all this - the impossible body image, the need to fail, the impossible to duplicate wardrobe...

Thousands of hours spent reading Charlie Brown comics and watching him on TV. Who wouldn't be influenced?

I managed to duplicate the big head and the triangular body, but the three finger thing just wasn't doable. Maybe ebay will have one of his sweaters!

Oh, how I wish I had just played with Barbies!

Fuzzball

2004-11-27T11:54:00.000-08:00

A while back, while detailing some of the reasons that I believe I am ruled by fate, I stated I didn't have a clue about fate's mechanism. While it is true that I don't have a clue, I do have a theory...

I think the universe is completely static, with the exception of the thing we call 'consciousness' or maybe 'soul'. At every moment in time, every possible path you can take already exists.

This is analogous to driving along a road and coming to an intersection. Your being at the intersection doesn't spontaneously generate the existing roads, they exist independently of you. You do have the choice of which road to take, and this will ultimately govern all your future choices.

It wouldn't surprise me if this happened at the quantum level, where every possibly interaction outcome exists at differing levels of probability. It also isn't relevant to my discussion of fate, so I'll just stop digressing now.

If you assume that all possible 'future' paths already exist at the point that you are deciding which path to take, then it becomes theoretically possible that you can somehow 'sense' the desirability of each path and choose the one that will get you where you want to go, much like being at the intersection in the road in my earlier example. The more you know about the branching 'paths', the more likely you are to get where you want to be.

I think this is why fate seems to be playing such games with me. I think that somehow a part of me can sense the 'directions' of the paths available to me, and that part is leading me to all the extremely unlikely events that have become a part of my life.

I'm now trying to 'enhance' the process by paying more attention to the subtle little feelings I have when I'm at a decision point. Whatever part it is (assuming it exists), does not communicate very directly and sometimes my brain overrides my gut feeling. I've come to believe that when this happens I usually end up unhappy with the outcome.

This is a pretty unfleshed out theory at present. What do you think? Does anyone know of anything that supports it?

A little dab did me

2004-11-26T09:08:00.000-08:00

I'm tired today, stressed from all the thanks I gave yesterday. Presumably this tiredness contributed to the inattention that caused me to pour coffee over the 'Breathe Deep' tea bag happily hanging in my mug.

The inattentiveness lingered long enough for me to set the mug near my right hand while I worked, and during a momentary pause in typing, I reached out and took a huge gulp.

It was appallingly bad. It was toxic. It caused my stomach to gyrate elvis-like. It was so terrible I couldn't believe it. So I took another gulp - not a small one.

Again the lurch, and I finally got what I had done. So, did I immediately stumble to my feet and pitch the puling contents out the window?

No, I set the mug back down, shook my head, and went back to work. And about 20 minutes later, with no thought whatsoever, I took another gulp.

This time I did leap up, burst out the door, and with an elvis-like slash of my arm I sent the t-offee sparkling into the wind.

I hope it evaporates before it kills a duck.

Moonshadow

2004-11-23T08:10:00.000-08:00

The sky was November gray when I left my office for my hike last night. The gray crept inside as I drove, until I felt only depression at the upcoming walk.

I endured the 30 degree north wind on my bare flesh as I changed into nylon and fleece, then set out on the trail, poles clacking and hissing in the darkening twilight.

I walked gaze down for several miles, looking up only once to see three deer bound up what looked like a vertical valley wall. My soul brightened for a while but then faded back to gray.

A shadow formed, catching my attention, and I looked up to see a three quarter moon dancing in the clouds.

In time the sky cleared and all turned pearl, and I strode through a wonderland of silhouettes and ghostly ground.

I found the star of my desire, wrapped it in my soul, and made wishes and gave thanks for all that has happened to me.

Unbreakable hug

2004-11-22T06:12:00.000-08:00

I allowed TB to give me a hug goodbye the other day. I usually avoid this as it is already hard enough to control my feelings towards her. She is going away for a couple of weeks to do something very hard and hopefully quite fulfilling. It is not without it's psychological dangers and I am a little worried about that. I have great faith in her mental and personal resources, but she is a little nervous and that affects me. Regardless, I am very impressed with what she is doing and wish her everything good.

We had talked about her journey and I think the nervousness prompted her to ask me for a hug. It was wonderful! I wish I could do it all the time. Unfortunately the connection that is between us seemed strengthened and I could not get her off my mind. Sometimes this weekend, in moments of internal peace, I felt like she was talking to me. The talk is different from the frequent mental dialogues I carry on with other people. It's more conversational and less 'me'.

I have never felt this way about anyone. I've had several relationships, some very intense, but this goes beyond all of them. I feel she is an integral part of me - that in some way she completes me and makes me better than I've ever been before.

Her conversation satisfies me in the way no one else ever has been able to. I love to hear her thoughts on anything, and long after she has left I ponder what she has said. Her laughter thrills me, and her humor sticks with me and I find myself laughing as I recall the moment.

When we were hugging our cheeks touched, and I said something in a voice throaty with emotion. I can't recall what I said, although I don't think it was significant. What I was really saying was "I love you".

Sexual cross

2004-11-19T07:11:00.000-08:00

A week ago I noted that TB had given me a lot to think about, which is always the case when we talk. One of the things that came out was that I was feeling male for the first time in my life - normally I feel pretty androgynous. TB commented that she felt that way too, which yet again made me feel connected and accepted, something I'd never had before meeting TB.

At any rate, this trail led to my theory of sexuality, which I had never really thought through until discussing it with TB. Here it is...

Asexuality is at the bottom. I think this is truly unhealthy for those who practice it, although maybe the lack of sexual expression frees up resources for other things - maybe not. If anyone reads this who is asexual, I would love to hear of benefits!

Monosexuality is up a notch - I think this can be pretty darn fun when you have a good imagination or a good internet connection, and it's pretty hard to fault the convenience.

Heterosexuality and homosexuality I place at the same level. Both are with partners, and I think that is healthy and gratifying in a way that being alone lacks. Two can be twice as creative as one, and great sex (and great living) is all about creativity.

Bisexuality is at the top of my sexual tree. I think this is the ultimate in sexual expression. I think that love, which for me is always a component of sex, should not be bounded by gender.

That all said, I've never been with a man, and I have always believed it was because I had been conditioned against it. There is something aesthetically displeasing about the image of two men that has held me back. It is probably just not meant to be for me.

A fellow mystic

2004-11-19T06:21:00.000-08:00

The Mystic Pig
	I asked the mystic pig: are you a pig and the mystic pig said: Naahh Ask the Mystic Pig another question created by ixwin

Who Links Here

Kindred spirit

2004-11-18T15:44:00.000-08:00

I just ran into this blog, and especially liked this post.

"In Silence, There Is A Whisper"

California dreaming

2004-11-18T13:48:00.000-08:00

I noticed some birders with enormous lensed cameras (overcompensating, no doubt) whilst driving lakeside, and I stopped to ask them what they were looking at. Unlike all my prior birder interactions, these gents were gruff. Their first answer to my "Wadda ya lookin at?" was "Rare birds". I managed to stifle my "Duh!", and replied "What is the name of the rare bird?" with my shy but engaging smile. They looked at me askance for a moment (possibly visualizing an enormous lens divot in my head) and replied "California Gulls". Then they hurriedly packed up and scurried to their car. I gazed across a half mile of lake at the little white dots floating on the dark gray water and wondered what a California Gull might actually look like, and not having any advanced optics I resolved to look them up on the internet sometime.

This morning I made my rounds of the two blogs I read religiously, and unbelievably one of them had several pictures of California Gulls taken yesterday in Idaho. Apparently they are quite common there.

Synchronicity - you just can't beat it!

Our lady of sorrows

2004-11-18T06:06:00.000-08:00

I woke on Sunday morning with the intent of finding an apartment. My wife and I had climaxed our emotional cycle with a completely insane unhappy 'argument' on Saturday evening, and I just don't think I can take it anymore. But Sunday night we made love and were all nice to each other, and the cycle started again.

If my son weren't in the picture, I'd be gone now. I love my stepson, but he seems to have grown a lot closer to his dad recently and he doesn't seem to need or want me much anymore. It doesn't seem worth going through this rotating traversal of heaven and hell. This time the cycle took all of two weeks.

I've made it this far by walling myself off from my wife and everything else, but I don't want to live that way anymore. There is too much in this world that is worth experiencing and loving.

'Argument' is in quotes above, because in this case, I just lay there stunned as my wife worried about losing her breasts, losing her parents, and losing me. Only one of those worries is at all likely. At some point, I think I said 'There just isn't any point to this - can you please just try to be happy', at which point I was verbally raked over the coals.

I'm sorry I hurt my wife by gaining a lot of weight, and I'm sorry we have nothing to build a relationship on. We only get along when we are having sex, which we have a reasonable amount of. I feel vaguely guilty about that, which is ridiculous.

A part of me wishes my wife would find someone she could be deliriously in love with - someone she could share all her beliefs with. Someone who could endure her worries, or maybe even alleviate them. I would love to see her happy.

And me free.

Shadowtime

2004-11-16T09:17:00.000-08:00

I walked last night in my usual fashion, just being part of the motion and the surroundings, allowing my feet and feelings to choose each intersection.

I had taken a path I haven't taken in many years, and had paused for a moment while descending a ravine to look at the just risen crescent moon, when I heard a buck snort behind me. I turned and looked up the side of the ravine, and there at the very top, silhouetted against the very dark sky, were a doe and a buck. The buck was about 6 feet behind the doe, and their heads were turned towards me. I remained motionless and thought about invisibility, and after a bit the buck ambled forward and looked as if he nuzzled the doe along her neck. It was such an exquisite moment, and I was filled with romance. They moved off together as if they were one being, disappearing over the ridge line.

I remained still for a moment, then ambled my way along to my car and drove the long way home to an excited little boy and compulsively frowning wife.

It's big today! Yayyy!!!

2004-11-16T07:10:00.000-08:00

My son's comment on the waterfall when we rounded the corner and first saw it. I've seen this waterfall dozens of time, and my son's excitement still infected me, and I Yayyyy'd right along with him.

Yayyyy!!!

Highlighting the boy

2004-11-16T07:03:00.000-08:00

I strapped my son on my back on Sunday and we went for a walk. The day was classic November, gray and short. The air was crisp and had a hint of the frost that still lingered in the shade. The grass in the meadows shown mostly tan with an occasional yellow highlight flickering in an errant ray of sun.

My son talked of pine and birch and waterfalls, and on the drive home he simply said "I had a really nice time today" in his little three year old voice.

There is beauty and love in this world.