Another space to ramble

Erasing an aroused suspicion of non-functionality...

Xochipilli2012 — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 23:30:46 GMT

Could a 50 year old, attractive, fit, yoga-practicing woman find a compelling reason to exercise, eat right, etc. without being in an active search for a sexual partner? A friend of mine recently posited that if she wasn't looking for a lover, she'd probably not give a shit about her body, eat bon bons (or some equivalent), and gain 50 pounds in short order. This attitude shocked me...a little. My Tribe stuff hasn't been working properly since Tribe Premium went online, so I wouldn't be at all surprised if this test doesn't publish and simply kicks off another "please help us figure out why our system is fucking up" request form. Let's see.... NOW!!!!

The Beauty of my Extended Family

Xochipilli2012 — Thu, 25 Oct 2007 18:13:04 GMT

This is long overdue. I went back to northeast Iowa last August to memorialize my father in the community where he grew up and where he wanted to be buried. We had hoped that Wife #3 would have acceded to his wishes and released his body to us. This did not happen. So the funeral we planned transformed into a memorial. I hadn't been out there since my father's second wedding, in December of 1977, nearly 30 years ago. Suffice to say that I hadn't seen most of my aunts, uncles, and cousins for all that time--with the exception of a few that traveled out to visit in California 20 or so years ago, and an aunt and my granny whom I saw at my youngest brother's wedding 15 years ago. All my cousins (18 of them) save one have had children. One is a grandfather 3 times over by now. The point I'm making is that a lot has happened in these people's lives, and I've not been a part of any of it. I even blew off my granny's 75th birthday 13 years ago, and even sent a passive-aggressive "coded" message to everyone in my place. One of my brothers was clever enough to decode it, and although (or perhaps, because...) it made me look like an asshole, and was hurtful to my grandmother, he shared it with her. Essentially I was declaring that because the Iowa people never accepted me for who I was, even as a child, and as we had such divergent values, there was no point in my being in contact with or having a relationship with any of them. Pretty sad stuff. And it made going back there much harder than it needed to be. To my relief and some amazement, and possibly due in part to the circumstances for my being there, everyone was so warm and kind to me. I felt so much shame for how I had behaved in the years before. Useless emotions--perhaps. But real, nevertheless. And yes, had we gotten into discussions on "values" or politics, I reckon some clashes might have occurred. Most of these people (the ones that voted) voted for Bush in both elections. And many--although how many I'm not sure, believe that the invasion and occupation of Iraq was justified. They may have changed their opinions since, given that things have gone so wrong there. But they are very patriotic people. Many of my extended family are in the military currently, and if any of them read this I hope they understand that my criticisms of the US Government, its military, and yes--those who "follow orders" when they are illegal, are not intended to attack them as individuals. I really don't want to attack anyone, not even George W. Bush, who I consider to be a war criminal--someone that deserves far more than impeachment. He should be sitting in a cell for the rest of his life, contemplating his crimes against humanity. That comment alone will probably make many of my cousins' hair stand on end. Sorry about that. In spite of these differences, and perhaps they exist more in my own mind than anywhere else, these people are still my family. It is true that I've not made much effort to know them over the years, and the same goes for them about me. But some of this may be due to the fact that one of my brothers has maintained close contact with many of them, and he's relayed information in both directions--so it's not as if I've been completely cut off from them. And I have my own wounded child issues to deal with, issues that come into sharp focus when it comes to my extended family. I had some rather negative experiences with some of them as a kid, and I've carried those memories all these years, to my own detriment. They have all changed, matured, evolved, and I have largely kept many of them in a box, expecting them to be as they were those many years ago. I would not be surprised that many of them find me challenging in some ways. I changed my name--dropping the family name that many of them share. I no longer follow the religion that most of them faithfully practice today. I am open about my use of sacred sacraments for consciousness-expansion and exploration. And many of them are aware of my left-leaning politics. None of that shit mattered when I was out there in August. It's true that I felt more "warmth" from some than others--but this is understandable as my own reserved energy with some may have been reflected back to me. The cousins I felt closest to as a kid were the most aloof, and the closeness I felt was probably lost on them as they are all several years younger than I. Why the fuck do I turn myself inside out like this? It's not that interesting. I wish I were a poet or could express myself better. I can throw a lot of words onto the screen in short order, but I wind up saying almost nothing. How to capture what I'm feeling? OK. Here's something. My father's mother, my last surviving grandparent, remains in the body, quite alert and present, although quite deaf. She has always been a sweet granny. But she is also something of an opinionated matriarch who has sometimes rubbed people the wrong way by sticking her nose into their business. She is a very strong woman, and my father was very close to her. I reckon that was the closest relationship he maintained throughout his life. When my brothers and I arrived at the Cedar Rapids airport and made the drive to Sumner, our first stop was at the home where our grandmother lives. It's a very nice facility as such places go and I felt much better seeing it in person than when I heard of her moving there a couple years back. When we got to her room and I saw her, tears started streaming down my face. It was so beautiful to see her, alive, looking healthy. I couldn't explain why. I still cannot explain why so much emotion comes up around her. Even writing this is making me cry. It's not like she's been really close with me--in the sense of being best friends, like I am with my own mother. But I think my spirit recognizes hers, and has felt her love all my life. In that moment I knew that making the trip to Iowa was absolutely the right thing to do. One of my dad's sisters was there too, and it was so great to see her as well. I saw them both at my youngest brother's wedding as mentioned earlier. We stayed with another sister of my dad at a bed and breakfast she and my uncle run in Hawkeye. I was grateful to have such comfortable and familiar surroundings. I had never been to that place before, but stayed with them many times when I was a kid. They have five kids and my folks have four. So wrangling kids was something they were good at and it just turned out that it was easiest to stay with them most of the time. I had some great conversations with my aunt and her husband. I was surprised at how much my uncle enjoyed seeing me again and I was struck by how beautiful they both are. Life and age had mellowed my uncle a bit--he used to scare me a bit when I was a kid because he was a pretty intense disciplinarian back then. That evening, our first evening there, they hosted a kind of open house where many of my cousins, aunts, uncles, and kids showed up. It was the first time I saw many of my cousins all grown up, and met some of their children. It was awkward in some cases, not so much in others. One of my cousins always intimidated me as a kid. He was older, good looking (he still is), and we never got along as kids. He was very kind in meeting me, but we didn't talk much. And this may have been my own fears from the past taking hold. I am not sure. I was impressed with him, his beautiful wife, and two of his sons who are both strapping, fully-grown, handsome men in their own right. Actually, all of my cousin's kids are quite handsome and beautiful. I come from a really good-looking family! (And yeah, I'm a bit biased on the subject.) I also enjoyed talking with my dad's three brothers that evening. It brought up a lot of emotion thinking of them growing up with my own father, and reflecting on the relationship I have with my own brothers today. In my case there are some shared memories from childhood, but I didn't really get to know and really appreciate how wonderful each of my brothers are until I was well into adulthood. I didn't get a chance to get into all that with my uncles. But what struck me was some of the stories they told about my father when they were growing up. It seemed as if they were talking about a completely different person than the one I knew! My dad was the oldest and apparently was favored by his parents as a result. This engendered some understandable resentment on the part of his siblings. My dad apparently liked to play "pranks" on his brothers and sisters--sometimes really stupid and dangerous ones. Perhaps it was no wonder that he never talked about that part of his life. But my father, for all his love of genealogy and collecting stories from the past, was not very keen on telling stories of his own. So it was amazing to get a more 3-dimensional view of my dad from his brothers and sisters. I wish I had known those things about him when he was still alive. I should be clear about what I mean by "family" as well. I'm not only talking about those with whom I share some alleles of DNA. I am most certainly including the families that my blood relatives have married into. My cousins' wives and husbands were all so nice. Some had more 'subdued' personalities than others, to be sure. And there was so little time to really get to know any of them. The memorial service itself was the following day. It was freaking hot outside and I wore a suit for the occasion. A couple of my cousins were shocked that I wasn't in shorts and sandals. I think my antics at my youngest brother's wedding reception were widely reported. (I changed out of dress clothes into some crazy knit shorts and t-shirt that I had tie-dyed myself...and I hoped to do some wild dancing that night and needed something athletic to dance in...that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it....oh, and I was also tripping on magic mushrooms at the time!) Back to the memorial...I saw a few more aunts, uncles, and cousins that I either missed or were not at the get together from the previous evening. I didn't even recognize one of my cousins--I mistook her for another one and I was really embarrassed by that. Shit! It was a little weird being in that church again. The last time I remember being there was my father's wedding to his second wife. It's a Lutheran church, a very small one with something like 20 rows of pews. And there's a statue of Jesus at the front--which makes it look more like a small Roman Catholic church in Mexico (now that I've been in a few of those). The pastor was a very nice man, quite beautiful in his ex-trucker bear body and white beard. We had actually spoken extensively on the phone prior to coming out to plan the service, and it went very well. I was way more emotional during it than I expected. I thought I had gotten most of my crying done in the nearly three weeks since my father leaving his body. But being in that church, which had a lot of memories for me, seeing his photo on the table before me, sitting next to his mother and amongst so many of his family...it just really hit me. The guy was GONE and I would never be able to see him, hug him, laugh with him, etc. again. One of my brothers prepared a statement with some anecdotes from our childhood that illustrated some of our father's best qualities. He wrote it himself, and the memories were more poignant for him as they were more representative of his own experience with our father. I would say that he had the fewest conflicts or disappointments in relating with Dad. I don't think it was because he was Dad's 'favorite,' but more because he and our father share a more similar personality with a subdued emotional tone. Neither of them get as quickly riled or animated by things, particularly adversity, as my other brothers and I might. But we all agreed with what he wrote and that he should speak on all our behalf. He did so beautifully, showing some emotion around our father's death for the first time (in my presence, at least). After the service I just wanted to get out of there. My grand plan to be stoic or subdued fell apart. I rushed outside into the 95 degree heat, walked out into grassy yard next to the church, and started wailing. It was weird. I didn't want to be there any more. One of my brothers had gone outside for the same reason, so we got together, hugged, and talked a bit about our father. He was the youngest and had the least amount of contact with our father. Some might even argue that he was abandoned by our dad, because after his divorce from our mother, who was still drinking at the time, he moved across country and didn't take his youngest, most vulnerable son, with him. I think it actually worked out for the best because his second wife was kind of intense. And our mother cleaned up her act soon after that and became the best mom ever. Our mom, who had accompanied us out to Iowa, came out to see if we were OK. Wow...our mother! Most of the extended family knew her better than my father's subsequent wives as she had been around them more when we were kids. It was beautiful how well received she was by them. For many she would always be their Aunt Barbara, no matter who our dad was married to. And our mom is a really loving, open, beautiful person, and she really enjoyed connecting with the family again and wants to stay connected. I feel the same way, although I fear I may slip back into old patterns. I guess it's up to me, day to day, to choose how much I want to relate or not. The reception after the service was very nice. The "church ladies" and others did a wonderful job with the food and everything. I wasn't feeling super-sociable, so I didn't mingle with the cousins I didn't see the night before, and I regret not rising above my own selfish emotional state and reaching out to people who are still alive and whom I might want to know better. (More later...)

a modicum of guilt released

Xochipilli2012 — Tue, 07 Aug 2007 07:24:58 GMT

I finally found an old friend the other day, someone that I didn't appreciate when they were in my life. A really beautiful person that I met initially as a 'pen pal' in a Stranger personal ad sometime in the early 90s. We eventually met and enjoyed each other's company for awhile. But while I found her beautiful, sexy, smart, and intriguing, I made excuses not to be with her. I wouldn't let myself fall for her, although reading my journals from the time, it appeared that was where I was heading. It wasn't too long after giving the 'let's just be friends' speech, the coward's way out, in retrospect, that I met the infamous Cynthia. But before her was Cathie, and it wasn't until years later that it finally dawned on me that I was kind of a jerk to her, and that I should have never let her out of my life. Yes. These are mind games, or even better, mind fucks. Whatever happened, happened in its time. It couldn't have gone any other way--and there's no point lamenting about it all these years later. Yet now, alone, and somewhat skittish about getting involved with anyone again, and with the world changing with the recent death of my father, I'm ruminating quite a bit on things past. It's a little silly, I admit. But it's what's been happening for me of late. I've actually been trying to find Cathie ever since I got back from living in Mexico in 2000. But only through the Internet. Every so often I'd Google her name and see if anything promising would come up. About a year ago I found some sort of real estate listing that I thought might be connected with her, but with only a phone and fax number. I sent a fax explaining who I was, and left a phone message as well. But nothing came of it. With my dad dying two weeks ago, I had been going through old cards and letters, and came across a few things from Cathie I had kept. I was saddened to realize that I've lost or thrown away much of what she had written me within a few years of our losing touch with one another. I decided to try looking for her again, and for the first time the chances seemed quite good that I had found her. I wrote what must have seemed like a really strange letter, coming out of the black after nearly 14 years of no contact. She had a different name, so I figured she was married, and hopefully happily so, 'cause she deserved that. I apologized for not being true to my word, because I probably had no intention of being 'friends.' I just wanted out, and said that because that's what coward's say when they don't want to deal with the energy of the other when trying to get away. I'm sure some people really mean it, but how often does that ever happen? I get a response within a day, and I was really pleased to find out that she was the woman from my past, and that she did indeed have a wonderful, loving husband, and that they were making a beautiful life together. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little envious, but we each make our own way in the world, and where I'm at now is 100% my own doing. I wouldn't be alone if I weren't choosing it somehow. And it's not as if I'm not happy, because I am actually doing quite well. But I remember what it is like to be with someone that one can trust, share, and be vulnerable with....be 'real' with. And it is a rare and beautiful thing. It's relatively easy to find someone for sex, if that's all one cares about. But for something more, one has to be ready and able to go much further. Perhaps I wasn't ready with Cathie? Perhaps not even with Cynthia or La Malinche? Will I ever be, I wonder? Should I wait until that 'right person' comes along? Or is it better to relax and 'love the one you're with'? (Or the one that you're not so into, but might be into you?) Cathie was very kind in her response. She accepted my apology, and wished me well. I really couldn't have hoped for anything better than that! So I can release the guilt I have carried, and really more or less cultivated over the past 7 years or so. I don't think I had much of a clue during the first seven. She was and is a really special person, and I'm feeling pretty damn lucky to have connected with her, albeit briefly, and when I was nowhere near being the best that I could have been. Because that year and the one before were really tough for me. I had been in love with a woman I went to massage school with, and the feeling was never quite a mutual one, although occasionally it seemed like it might have been possible. Sadly, I get obsessed with people who aren't quite into me. And reject most who are. Irony. It's a funky theme running throughout my funny little life.

Cynthia

Xochipilli2012 — Fri, 03 Aug 2007 14:41:52 GMT

I came across this check yesterday when rifling through a couple shoe boxes I've been keeping photos, cards, and letters in. With the Internet, the boxes have mostly stabilized in the past few years with only a very few additions. I've been looking for things from my father and pre-digital photos of him. I think I kept this check because I found it amusing at the time, given who it was from and what she said it was for. In truth it was probably an attempt to repay a loan to help cover her rent at the time. Even though she made more money than I did, she was carrying a lot of debt that she had to service, so she would come up short sometimes. I was happy to help out. I don't recall if she ever made good on this one, but she probably did. I'm still friends with Cynthia today, although we are not particularly close. She tends to be more 'interactive' when she's not in a relationship, which is probably the way most of us are. Although we were in an emotionally-intimate relationship until early 1997, she had already started sleeping with other people a full year before; physical intimacy between us was pretty much dead by the middle of 1995. She didn't do it on the sly, mind you. She let me know she was opening things up in a very unpleasant phone call (for me, at least, at the time). And we probably only made love twice after that happened, made all the more sad by the fact that she was having sex with other people. I can't blame her for that; it was my decision to remain open to her emotionally, and we continued to be very close during that time--although I wonder if it was a simple matter that I didn't feel worthy of something better at the time? I've almost always "played it safe" in romantic relationships, only going for people who express an interest in me first--with the exception of Cynthia. Our getting together was a rare thing for me as I actively pursued her, fear of rejection be damned. It all started a couple years before we even met. I don't quite recall exactly the first time we sort of "recognized" each other, but I remember seeing this beautiful, exotic-looking woman at different public spaces around the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Seattle, where I was living at the time. The first time was on 15th Avenue when I was out for a run. She was walking a dog and was so beautiful with her harem pants, almost black hair, Italian face, and a tiny stud in her nostril. I think I might have said something as I ran past--something I didn't usually do unless I was really inspired. Something nice, like "Beautiful!" (I was never one for catcalls and "nice tits!" just to be clear!!) Sometimes it would be walking down the street, sometimes it would be at an outdoor table of a restaurant on Broadway or 15th Avenue. And usually in these dining circumstances she was with the same guy, a bald fellow who seemed a bit older than she was, probably a good friend or her lover. We'd never say anything, but just sort of smile at each other, at least at first. It was a sort of "recognition," as if we knew each other from someplace. Eventually these smiles would turn into waves, but we never spoke to one another. This happened a lot for about a year or so. Then she seemed to 'disappear.' It may well have been that I did the disappearing as I was in massage school and when I wasn't working I was in class, busy doing trades, or busy with school work. I almost forgot about her, thinking she moved away or something. A few years later, however, I saw her again and I decided I would introduce myself if I had the chance. One time after I had noticed her again, I was on my way home from work on a #7 bus to Broadway, and noticed the hair of a woman near the front. As I got off, I turned to see who it was, and it was The Mystery Woman! At that moment I made a plan. I bought a nice card and wrote a letter to an unknown person in form of an introduction. I was intent upon giving it to her the next time I saw her. (Yeah--actually talking to her would have been a bit too BOLD for me at that point. I've never been too good with the rejection thing--I'm still not. Which may be why I'm single.) So for the next month or two I was carrying this card in my backpack everywhere I went, practically. But I didn't see her anymore and was starting to lose my resolve, even to the point of forgetting to bring the card with me sometimes. One day I was journaling in Espresso Roma on Broadway (later called Habitat; I don't know what it's called today) and noticed her fast-pace walking by. Oh shit! Did I have the card? Did I??!! I did. So I ran out of there, leaving my stuff in the cafe, and I had to run down the street to catch up with her as she was more than a block away at that point. I caught her at a light, actually. I gave her the card, for which she said "Thank you!" Twice. About a week or so later I got a note in the mail saying she would like to meet me, etc. and the rest is, as they say, history. She turned out to be a rather amazing person, intelligent, thoughtful, creative, and kind. She was an excellent photographer and made her own jewelry. She wasn't quite on the more deliberate spiritual path that she is on today. In some ways I may have helped her in that dimension as I was already a sannyasin at the time. Not that I was a particularly exemplary 'spiritual' person, exactly. She wasn't interested in meditation particularly, but she was very open to learning about Terence McKenna, whom I had recently discovered. In fact, she's the only lover I've had who was as enthusiastic about exploring the 'imaginal realms' as I was. She was always a bit closed or guarded emotionally--she still is (at least with me). I've never learned why, but maybe there's no ready explanation for that in any of us. There was always some deep part of herself that she didn't want to show or share, and it was like you could almost feel it, the glow of it, like like shining underneath a closed door. I wanted that light, but never found it. The one time she sort of opened up to me was the couple times we did MDMA together. That was amazing! She's still pretty guarded with me all these years later. And maybe there's something in me that inspires or provokes that? Things were really good between us for about a year. Then we both hit a kind of "wall of complacency" and each started taking the other for granted, which stimulated resentment in both of us. I finally got online at the time, and she, being much less interested in that whole scene, became a sort of 'Internet Widow.' I will admit that her guardedness was very frustrating for me, and sometimes I would get together with her more out of "duty" than desire. I really should have sat down and tried to talk with her about it --but she had a hard time talking about things. I would often learn that she was upset with me about something because she would be irritated or cold with me for a week, or sometimes two, before finally opening up and telling me, usually after a lot of questioning on my part--because I KNEW something was up by her behavior. But I enabled that stuff. I am responsible for never calling her on it. I was afraid if I did that she'd leave me. At heart, I was a bit of a coward in such things. This became even more dramatically apparent in a later relationship with a woman I call 'La Malinche.' But that story is for another time. ;-) We had an explicitly monogamous relationship--and I never 'cheated' on her. But I was frustrated enough that I would have left her for the 'right' person, and she figured that out. And I believe my frequent tardiness when we were supposed to get together at her place, often because I was doing something online and just needed a few more minutes, which stretched out to hours, all led to her decision that she wanted to see other people. Plus, she wasn't attracted to me sexually any more. She never explicitly said this at the time, but I could tell--and got confirmation years later. We were really into kissing during the first year of our relationship--and it is rare to meet someone who is a really sensuous kisser and as into that as I had been. But, that was probably the first thing to go. There were other things too, but they are too personal to write here. I doubt that she'll ever read this, but she knows I'm here and it's a possibility. Anyhow, when she told me that she wanted to have sex with other people, I was devastated. All the more because she told me on the phone instead of to my face. And it wouldn't have been so bad if she continued being intimate physically with me, but that had pretty much stopped six months or more previously. So it was all the more painful because, even though her being closed was a frustration, we still had some really sweet times together in that way. A year after she started seeing other people, she moved out of town, a ferry ride and then some. So things pretty much fizzled after that. We never had what you might call 'explicit closure' until a few years later, after she was already with someone else. And I pined for her for years afterwards. I behave like a fucking idiot sometimes. Longing for what I cannot have, and not being present for what is right in front of me. We lost touch with each other. I had no idea if she was living in Washington state or Thailand. Several years later I got an email from her. She had moved to Long Beach, California with her lover, and they had been together for about 5 years or so at that point--more than twice the length of time that we were really together. It was nice to hear from her. I had already been through the La Malinche debacle, or at least the first part of it. And she was with someone too, so there was no tension about what "we" were supposed to mean for each other. So we became friends. And it was nice. It is still (mostly) nice. Oh yeah...we've had our 'ups and downs,' usually because I'm demanding more of her as a friend (when I'm emotionally vulnerable) than she's comfortable giving. She likes me when I'm strong, or if I'm asking her counsel about something that doesn't directly involve her. Like she was really good with me during 'La Malinche: Phase II.' But if I have any expressed 'need' for her to be available for emotional support, she shuts down. And I guess given our history, I cannot blame her. She had never been very good at being 'in my corner' when I was going through stuff with other people. She would often take the other person's side, probably because she was also irked by whatever character defect on my part that contributed to the conflict. And that's cool in the sense that if I'm being a jerk, I would want a friend to be honest with me about it. But still, I wished she would have, or could have, 'had my back' sometimes. You know? This recent thing with my father is a case in point. While I (falsely?) told her I wasn't expecting any kind of explicit emotional support from her, I was hoping she'd at least be interested in what I was going through. I got the impression from her that she didn't want to deal with it. After leaving her a message on a phone she is usually in close contact with--her job depends on it, I hadn't heard from her in over 24 hours, and this surprised me. I thought there might be some other explanation, like she lost her phone, or was out of the country. I left a second message trying to make light of the situation, suggesting that maybe she had been kidnapped or that her phone was stolen--but that backfired, no doubt due to the fact that a real disappointment I was feeling that I hadn't heard from her was coming through. She reacted pretty negatively to that message--she felt I had 'attacked' her and that was certainly not my intent. But I was disappointed that I hadn't heard from her, and said so. She briefly mentioned my father, whom she had met, and then launched into a 2 minute lecture about how she wouldn't stand for such treatment, etc. Good for her! Maybe it was baggage from our past, but it was another difficult circumstance for me where I wasn't maintaining a 'stiff upper lip' and she never seemed to like me when I seemed 'weak' or 'vulnerable.' And of course, I am probably projecting more shit onto this than there needs to be. I get the impression that she likes me to be available when she's having "man trouble" as she did about a year ago when she was in a story with two different men who both wanted to be with her, but the one she really wanted wasn't confident enough to believed he 'deserved' someone like her (which sounds really familiar to me...note to self for later exposition: CHIARA), and the other was a bit of a control freak whom she liked, but didn't feel much in the way of "passion." Oh yes...one other thing. A somewhat benign STD was involved in this little triangle, and all the stress one might imagine around communicating with different lovers trying to make sure everyone was informed and did what they needed to stay healthy. I was there through all of that, and she was calling me a lot. But now that she's in a really good relationship with a beautiful guy (not one of the two from last year), she only calls when she needs help staying awake during an occasional long drive she needs to do at night for her work. I enjoy talking with her--don't get me wrong. But I guess I would like to be able to talk to her at other times as well, on occasion. But she rarely calls me back if it's not a part of her late-night driving special. Not for a long time anyway. These things don't 'rock my world' particularly. But they are enough for me to question how much energy I've put into our friendship over the years as it seems a bit uneven. Yes, she's doing the best she can. I accept that. I'm really trying to look into the mirror and examine my own expectations. If I were in a 'let go' about it, none of this would matter. But I'm not quite there yet. The thing I don't want to do is shut the door on our friendship, especially out of 'ego' and the thought, the mind construct that she is not 'respecting' me or whatever. I'm trying to get past all that petty shit. And the other thing that has become painfully obvious for me over the past year or so, and even more starkly in focus as I peruse cards and letters from people I have loved and now have no idea where they are, or if they are alive or dead, is that I suck at being a friend! Not completely...but I'm not as "steadfast" as I imagine would be good. You know? There are some people who stay friends through "thick and thin" and I thought La Malinche and I would be that for each other, no matter what. And certainly Cynthia as well. I think the odds are good for Cynthia. But La Malinche, definitely not! But nothing is forever, and even that story might come back to haunt me someday. I'll close this by saying that Cynthia is a really beautiful person, but perhaps not the best friend (for me). Clearly, the issue here has more to do with where my head and heart are at (particularly at this moment) than who she is, or more to the point, who I THINK she is. Because to be honest, I haven't a clue...about most people.

Everett Walter Zupke - May 21, 1938 -- July 24, 2007

Xochipilli2012 — Wed, 25 Jul 2007 06:15:20 GMT

Last night or early this morning, on July 24th, 2007, my father, Everett Walter Zupke, first born son to Walter and Lucille Zupke of Sumner, Iowa, died peacefully in his sleep of "natural causes." I can still scarcely believe it. It doesn't seem real, somehow--as if I'm in some sort of weird dream. He was in good health, although there was some talk that he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure a couple years back. He never liked to talk about his health, and on occasion would let his family know he was having surgery...after he had gotten out of the hospital. My dad was a beautiful man, kind, soft spoken, even tempered, slow to anger. The most troubling thing about him was that he was weak when it came to standing up for himself, or his relationship with his children, when it came to his 2nd and 3rd wives. He seemed to chose willful women as partners, and found great personal satisfaction in taking care of them. A committed Christian, worshiping throughout his life, he was uneasy about the fact that his first son (me) joined a non-Christian 'cult' but he never confronted me about it. We had a curious relationship around religion for I had once been an orthodox Christian myself, so I understood the world view and the mind set. We could actually talk about his faith with more depth and clarity than my two youngest brothers, who both consider themselves to be Christian. I think he had the most comfortable relationship his second son, who ironically is a secular humanist agnostic/atheist. I suspect this was because this brother didn't put the kind of emotional demands on our father as I and my two youngest brothers did at times. They were very similar in emotional tone--hard to read, externally subdued, and at times, somewhat clueless in the intricacies and subtleties of interpersonal dynamics in social situations. Even though he seemed disappointed that I never, in his eyes, realized my 'potential', I always knew he loved me. I might even hazard a guess that the disapprobation I sometimes felt from him might have been fueled more from my own personal insecurities than any preoccupation on his part. Clarifying this mystery was something I had hoped to achieve in the years to come. But alas, that experiment has come to an abrupt end. I'm particularly sad, not only for my brothers and their families, but for my father's siblings and mother, the latter with whom he was particularly close. She is currently in her 88th year, and I imagine it will be very hard losing her firstborn, and possibly, most favored son. (My grandmother definitely has favorites amongst her children and grandchildren.) Most of my dad's family live in Iowa, where they were born, and where he expressed his desire to be buried. It is completely bizarre that my dad recently sent an email his mother and siblings, along with his four sons, detailing that he wished to be buried in the same part of a cemetery his father, and infant sister had been buried in Iowa, and sometime in the future, where his mom will be buried. Did he know that he was not long for this world? If so, I suspect such knowing was probably of the unconscious variety. However, Dad was known to be circumspect about his health issues. There won't be an autopsy; everyone seems comfortable with 'natural causes.' But something feels 'fishy' about it all to me. It just seemed too sudden, without any warning at all. I'm grateful that I made the effort to call him more frequently these last two or three years. I know he enjoyed our conversations, and I certainly did as well--even though we were very different people and didn't often seem to have that much in common. However, beneath the surface, we were probably much more alike than either of us would have wished to admit to. I'm sure I'll have more to write about my father in the days and weeks to come. As I said, this still doesn't feel particularly 'real' to me yet. It was with great love and respect that try to honor the memory of my father, Everett Zupke. May you find the peace with your Lord that was lacking in your life at home. I love you Dad!

Intimidated

Xochipilli2012 — Sat, 16 Jun 2007 08:40:09 GMT

Someday, hopefully soon, I'm going to get over myself and just, like, let go and let it all happen. It's been many a year since I put much energy into making friends online, and it's all somewhat intimidating. And I'm not really talking about the prospect of meeting someone and falling in love, although that sort of looms in the background somewhere. The people I find interesting here and on MySpace just seem so cool, creative, intelligent, and confident and while I'm all that and more (on a good day...perhaps most days) I'm just so fearful about being 'rejected' that I rarely even risk reaching out to people. Just as in 'real life' I tend to wait until people approach me, and then I think it's OK to reach back. It's slightly insane because I know that there is truth to the saying "nothing ventured, nothing gained" and that I'm denying myself a galaxy of possibilities because I let my fear get the better of me. So I hope that crawling out of my hermit crab existence a little bit--even though being 'exposed' here is still pretty safe, will help me build some confidence to 'venture' more, and not get all hung up on the 'gain' part of the equation. As I write this I have one friend here, and she was cool (or naive) enough to approach me. She was really sweet about it too. Later I learned she was rather beautiful and fascinating and so I got all psychically tongue tied, so I'm pretty much enjoying her implied reality, along with some of her cool friends, standing behind a hedge somewhere. And over on MySpace it's kind of the same thing in that I got a bit intoxicated by a sister sannyasin from Down Under, and I think my enchantment could prove annoying for her if I don't manage to keep it in check. Yet--I wonder, 'why the fuck should I?' Fantasy or 'reality' positive vibes are a groovy thing--and I'm pretty good about respecting people's boundaries once they've bludgeoned me at least once and put them in writing. (Not so good at reading people's minds, however.) I can mumble with some assurance that if nothing else, my life will be richer encountering the "beautiful people" that I'm attracted to. Already I'm learning about music, books, people, and ideas that I might not otherwise expose myself to in my normal day-to-day, and that's fucking cool, man! Somewhere bouncing around inside this psyche the current representative "I" manifests, there is a knowingness that we're totally OK just the way we are (me and my other 93 personalities)...the grass only >seems< greener on the other side of the fence. At some point I'll opine on a subject other than myself, and demonstrate that narcissism is only one of my many myriad talents.

Let's get this thing started...

Xochipilli2012 — Sun, 10 Jun 2007 00:59:53 GMT

Okay all you Tribesters, get ready to diss me because I'm about to make a blasphemous admission. I have a page on MySpace, that evil NewsCorp thing that is anathema to everything that Tribe.net stands for. (I don't really know about that last part, but I'm standing pretty firm on the evils of NewsCorp -- Fox News watchers have been documented as the most ill-informed segment of the US population on several important fronts, and for good reason.) Drifting back on topic for a sec, I'm finally putting some energy into getting my Tribe space set up. This will be something like my seventh blog, given those I have on Blogger, MySpace, LiveJournal, and ArchaicRevival. Kraziness! I might even bring 'Bye Bye Berta' back because that shit never really gets old--well, maybe it does. I'll explain that later. Let's just say I was in love with a Succubus for four or five years, I'm in recovery, and we'll just leave it at that. So what's the point of my being here? I suppose it really is like my tagline says, that I'm here to connect with beautiful people. I'm into some different things, most of which are in some sort of harmony with each other. But externally some will seem contradictory or hypocritical. Some people on the path of meditation, yoga, etc. are going to find fault with my entheogenic interests, or the fact that I include dead animals in my diet. Some lefty friends are going to be shocked, SHOCKED that I enjoy certain forms of 'Adult Entertainment.' (There are downsides to that particular vice worthy of some discussion, just not here, not now.) And what the fuck is up with television? Yeah--I watch it. I enjoy it. Too. Much. A sort of guilty pleasure. TV and porno...holding me back from becoming what I want to be..maybe? Well, having joined the Osho caravanserai back in the early 80s, my path could be called a Tantric one where all things are permitted, so long as there is intention for bringing awareness into whatever it is. And I'll admit something else up front--I tend to be overly self-conscious when I write things that are public, and this messes with my writing. I hope as I do more of it I will drop the self-consciousness and get better connected to honing the craft of translating impressions of objects and energies into something meaningful and even relevant to other people's experience. I guess what I'm getting at is, full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes!