Sugar

When I started writing this yesterday I was wallowing and so I put it aside. Bigger and tougher pains commanded my attention this morning but I've circled back, and now want to post it. Sometimes I find it hard to put my finger on the how and why, but I sense there is rhyme and reason behind these seemingly random notes that sometimes pop out and carry me away. I guess in order to honor that process and allow for possibility, I want to let this one play out more completely, maybe shape-shift the emotions some more by finishing the post. I find writing most always helps clarify and finalize the weight.


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I think it is kinda funny that I put "pony" on the wish list I posted yesterday. I don't really want a pony, well not in same way that I really would enjoy the rest of that list :) But there I was typing away and the word "pony" just popped out. It seemed to just follow and fit, and so I left it.

Today at lunch I got to thinking about it again and I don't really think it was an accident or random word choice. I think it linked to an upsetting conversation from the night before. I've been trying to feel more and think less but it seems that I am still fairly slow and awkward when it comes to connecting the emotional dots.

You see I did have a pony briefly when I was kid. I named him Sugar. He was a Shetland pony, brown with a white sugar-colored mane. He was a surprise, a gift that my mom's parents bought for me. I don't recall the occasion, might have even been a birthday but actually my memory is real sketchy on the details.

Nana and Frank raised cattle on 10 acres and so they had plenty of room for a pony. I've no idea what possessed them to buy him. I hadn't asked for a pony. I'd never really entertained the thought. Nevertheless I was thrilled! What little kid wouldn't be? I thought he was the coolest ever. I loved feeding him apples, petting him, talking to him, and just hanging out in the pasture with him. I rode him bareback a few times, and that was fun but really the best fun was just standing beside him nuzzling and being together. I guess I was a lonely little kid. Of course I didn't know it then but the fact seems pretty obvious now.

One day my grandparents had the neighbor boys over to show us how to saddle and bridle him. Sugar didn't care for this idea. I remember standing there watching, and saying "No, he doesn't like that." but they kept trying to force the bit in his mouth. I just didn't get it, what was so important about this? He resisted, they forced harder and harder. The adults surrounded him, they were determined. Finally Sugar reared up and bolted away, full speed into the upper pasture. I was glad it was over.

Not long afterward back at home, my mom got a call. I could tell she was agitated on the phone. When she got off, she told me that Nana and Frank had sold Sugar because he was dangerous, they were afraid he would hurt me. I protested and insisted that he'd never hurt me but it was a done deal. I cried and cried. I hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. It hurt so much.

Today my adult mind was reflecting on this memory and inevitably I came to -
WTF were they thinking? What was the point? Why did they say he was mine? They bought him for me? No!
And then I realized -
They bought him for themselves, so they could think of themselves as loving giving indulgent grandparents and enjoy the fun of teaching me to "ride" all proper like. They couldn't conceive of the fact that I was completely content to simply love him as a big pet, as a friend. That'd be a childish thing and unreasonable. They paid good money for him and he was supposed to perform, make them look good, fulfill the vision they had planned. (Yeah I really am slow sometimes :)

I understand now that they never considered my feelings or desires. I suspect they were incapable of doing so. They were motivated by their own needy egos. It was never about me.

Just another example of the emotional myopathy that surrounds us all everyday.

the real wish list

a week alone in wilderness
painkillers that work
a massage
cunnilingus
and a good hard fuck
my piano tuned
the house painted
a yard man
a pool boy in a speedo with a pina colada
a pool
a pony
wings to fly
fire unbound

bah, humbug

"What do you want for your birthday?"
I never know how to answer that question.
Honestly the whole gift giving thing has always bugged me. The artificiality makes me feel invisible.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I am sure that I will enjoy the cds I receive for my birthday. (And I know that providing a list will ensure they won't buy something I've already downloaded etc) But the thing is, the tell-us-what-you-want business is actually work on my part. Afterall I could just as easily go buy the stuff myself IF STUFF was what I truly wanted.
And so I can't help but ask, where is the present in all this? Where's the surprise? the joy? the fun?
And where is the celebration of life inherent in the words "happy birthday"?

I've contemplated this gifting crapola forever and here's the conclusion to which I've come. IMHO most all gift giving - birthday christmas anytime - is simply an opportunity for the gift-givers to feel good about themselves.
Over the years I can't count how many times I have heard,
"Oh is that the ________ I gave you for your birthday? You must be enjoying it, huh? Well good, I am glad." *pats self on the back for being so thoughtful and choosing the right present*

For the longest time I carried an emotional load after these sorts of conversations. I didn't want to hurt the other person's feelings; but also I didn't like being asked, there was just something "off" about it. I think something inside of me saw through the superficiality but I discounted it. Recently though I've come to see this sort of situation for what it is, parasitic egotism, not innocent curiosity or genuine caring. Basically, I was being required to supply the gift-giver an ego-boost through not only initially accepting the gift and using it, but also periodically updating the boost through answering such questions with continued assurance as to the pleasing nature of the gift.

I guess it is just human nature, hmmm? People embrace routines and ritual; and fear uncertainty and spontaneity. They want to know what is coming next and especially what is expected of them. They depend on the predictability of holidays with their check-the-box reassurances, in order to be certain of their own personal goodness and the completeness of life.

And so what better way for us all to stay even keeled in the self-esteem department, than to have cookie cutter gift giving holidays sprinkled throughout the year? Sure, there might be a little pressure making gift decisions as each event approaches but as long as you stick to the format you're certain to succeed, right? Flowers, check. Greeting card, check. Cake, check. Ice cream, check. Phew! All done, good job! Now take a break! Aw yeah, you deserve it, you thoughtful generous animal. *pats self on back*
Works quite nicely, I guess, until somebody gets bored to fucking death.

What would happen if I insisted on no presents for my birthday? I don't think they could stand it. It would make them uncomfortable. If I didn't "want" anything, I'd be depriving them of the feel-good of giving. And that would be mighty inconsiderate of me, huh?
*sigh*

do you see what i see

File this under "crazy" thoughts.
Proceed at your own risk. You have been warned! :)


A few weeks ago while waiting for a traffic light to change I had a mind bending experience. I had been feeling fairly sluggish mentally, in a "oh woe, what's the matter with me?" sort of mood. And then instantly this experience gave me new perspectives. I've been enjoying the turning of new thoughts and the seeing of new views ever since.

I was sitting at a traffic light at a fairly large and busy intersection. I was bored and wanted to get on home. I glanced up into my rear view mirror and the reflections drew my attention and held me. I saw them as I had never seen before. Now I am seeking out similar such views everywhere.

The thing that was so mind-blowing was the fact that when I glanced up into the rear view mirror, it took me a L O N G moment to figure out what I was seeing. I was only intending a routine check backwards, a sort of mindless automatic vehicle safety orientation glance. And yet I found myself staring and then disoriented. My eyes were focused on cars passing back and forth - red pick-up moving right, blue pick-up left, little grey sedan right, white panel van left, rumbling dump truck... zip, zip, zip. It was quite neat. The sun was shining. All was bright and quick. But then suddenly I felt confused, "Wait, what am I looking at? Where are these cars? In which direction...?" And then, damn it all, I realized that while I'd been feeling as if I was looking backwards, because the cars were in my rear view mirror, in truth they were directly in front of me! Traffic crossing the intersection ahead was being reflected in my sunglass lenses and subsequently reflected back to me by the reflection of my own face in the rear view mirror.

Once I had my orientation I began playing with it on purpose, shifting back and forth - from forward out the windshield, to back inside the rear view. I found that if I relaxed my focus I could watch them both. I could simultaneously monitor the real space of the actual intersection with its zipping cars, plus their doubled back mirror reflections in the very glasses through which my eyes were looking. It was not unlike standing in a dressing room with an angled mirror, only with these cars there was the complication that I knew they existed in a separate reality that lay beyond me and behind the mirror. I felt them both in front and in back; it was as if they surrounded me. I was now fully entertained waiting for the light to change :) However the longer I looked, the more my eyes and brain seemed to be asking me to choose one or the other focus, "Keep it simple, stupid! One at a time!" But I kept at it, watching and noting everything I could, trying to relax and remove all specificity from my gaze. I wanted to take it all in, allow each its own motion, while staying centered in my own small separate space.

BTW, maybe I should mention that I was completely sober. And that no psychoactive drugs were involved. Well, none other than, attention and curiosity! ;^)

Since this experience I've been flipping my vision back and forth alot, and seeing all sorts of other sights in this new way. And I've been thinking about how much I previously screened out of my awareness, by narrowing my attention. Yet now with a bit of effort I may purposely take in more. I think it is fun as hell.

I realize these different views have always been in front of my eyes. I guess though, on a "normal" day I decide on an orientation upfront, and then choose what to look at, always knowing from where I am looking. As a result, much of what might have been seen, passes by unnoticed, as if non-existent.

The experience has stuck with me. There is something about that ability to appreciate different layers of perception and reflection that super intrigues me. Sometimes it is fleeting; other times it can be sustained. Interestingly it is not exactly through effort that the views hang together; but instead, through a kind of relaxing, an allowing.

While musing on these simultaneous reflections and attention and focusing and the dis-orientation of it all, eventually my thoughts turned to dreaming. I've been keep a journal of my dreams for the better part of 2 years now. This summer they got really crazy. Many nights the dreams came on so fast and continuous that I could barely keep up remembering and recording them. Jotting down notes in the morning became a real challenge. Often I could still see images and recall some plot, but even if my life had depended on it, I couldn't have told you the sequence of these dream events. I would write a few things down and then have to turn my paper sideways or upside down because I knew that the dream bits I was attempting to express on paper were each separate entities and I wanted/needed to represent that fact in my record-keeping also. I ended up with pages full of crazy, the words heading off in all directions, linked by circles and arrows and question marks.

I am wondering now if perhaps a dreaming brain, like normal waking vision, has a choice of what to focus on in any given moment; and if given the right stimulus or mind-set, it too can focus on multiple images and their reflections. And what if those images in 3D bounce and diffract as we snooze? Like watching the cars crossing the intersection, am I sometimes in my dreams watching dream-reflections? OR what if, like the multi-plex down at the mall, there's more than one show playing at the same time? And maybe just as we multi-task errands in real life, we juggle simultaneous dream scenes all night long? No wonder those morning memories feel shuffled and are often so hard to sort out.

And no wonder sometimes instead of engaging our visions and illusions, we choose to sleep.