For some reason… beyond the usual background roar of voices inside my head… I have recently been contemplating the issue of “compromises,” and the impact they have on our lives.

On some (fairly rational, I suppose) level, I see compromises as types of ”psychic transactions” we all seem to make, at various times in our lives. Actually, we probably compromise every day… agreeing to pay some sort of “psychic price” for some sort of “psychic benefit.” In a sense, it’s the “marketplace” of our inner lives, which subsequently becomes our outer realities.

Are you with me so far, kids?

Most compromises are very simple. I may not particularly want to have Mexican food for lunch, but you really do… and I am willing to pay the “price” of Mexican food (or “not-Thai food,” as the case might be) for the “benefit” of your company at lunch.

Simple ’nuff.

The line, however, gets blurrier when we get into some of the “major purchases” of our lives. Relationships, careers, where to live, values, spirituality, approaches to self-development…

If you listen to most pundits (I do, although I don’t necessarily take their advice), there seems to be a popular belief that “you always have to compromise.” Which– to my ears, anyway– is essentially a different way of saying “You can never have exactly what you want.”

But is that really true?

How do we know that’s true? Do we even know that it’s true, or are we merely compromising ourselves on the altar of “majority opinion?” I am sure that it has escaped few people’s attention that the world frequently seems to know more about “what’s good for us” that we– ourselves– are credited with knowing…

The more I look at it, the more it strikes me that we ultimately end up in some psychic version of “The Price is Right,” in which we are tasked with figuring out what our bottom line “price” is. And although many people are not sufficiently ”awake” or “present“ in their own lives to notice these choicepoints… this is often where “the rubber meets the road” in our existences, and where we may find ourselves on a slippery slope of some kind…. be it the slope of “popular opinion,” or one of our own making.

So compromise really exists on two levels. We not only compromise on what we agree to want/have, but we also compromise on the “degree of perfection” we’re willing to accept.

Or not.

And people are very different, in their approaches. You may be a “43%-er” while I’m a “92%-er.” We would/might have a hard time seeing eye-to-eye, because what one person would call “good enough,” the other would see as “royally sucking,” even when their intentions are identical.

Ultimately, I have little doubt that we compromise, but that the more important issue is really about what we compromise.

My thoughts on compromise have been percolating somewhat more after I talked to my mother, yesterday. My mother is 85, and lives “retirement life” on a golf course in southern Spain (well, not ON the golf course, but you know…). We generally talk, once a week. We get along just fine, but no matter how much I try to communicate to her “who I am,” she really has no idea. And I don’t mean that in the stereotypical “parents don’t understand their kids” way; I mean it in an underlying “core values” sense. Specifically, she doesn’t grasp why things are “so important” to me.

My mother– in many ways– IS “one big compromise.” By extension, that’s the model I went into the world with, when I left home. It was also a model I largely followed till my early 30′s (and beyond, as I continued to map my own fires of Hell, and gain self-awareness), and it was a model that did not serve me well, even though its “public face” came across as “open-mindedness.” Patches of this model remain, in places, like those hollows in the mountains where you suddenly find remnants of winter snow, in June.

Anyway, my mother ”purchased” some very Big Ticket Items in her life. Most glaringly (whether it was conscious, or not), she was willing to pay the “price” of “little love, no passion,” for “money and status.”

Twice.

I’d be willing to buy the argument that “maybe she wanted it that way,” if it weren’t for the fact that she is quite aware of this fact, and during the occasional but rare ”intimate” conversations we manage to have (when gaps open in her swirling cloud of rationalizations) she grows quite wistful in contemplating ”All That Wasn’t.”

Which brings me back to the question:

“What price are you willing to pay, and for what?”

Of course, it’s not always that cut and dry. As I observe humanity, and learn from my own suffering and the suffering of those I love and care about, I realize how much of the suffering stems not from the choices– the “price/benefit” transactions– themselves, but from the (dis)illusion we get locked into that our compromises are somehow “permanent” and “irreversible.”

Life is forever changing. What is “True” today may not be “True” in a year; five years; 20 years from now. “Situational” compromises abound, but it seems to be a part of human nature to interpret the temporary as “permanent.” We enter so many situations with the mindset (inside) that “it’s just for now,” yet outwardly our lips move and speak words of “permanence.” My point being that some choice we make might be fine and dandy within a timeframe of a year or two, but not twenty or thirty.

And yet… we live in a world that seems to have an (unhealthy?) love affair with “permanent.” Finite. Closed. End of story.

It’s a shame really, because it strikes me that when we make choices against a backdrop of “permanence,” we often close ourselves off to the possibility of short-term “perfection.” But that’s a whole other blog…

Having walked around in this neat little circle, I find myself with another question:

“What is compromiseable, and what is not?”

Where do we draw the line at “good enough?” Where are our “non-negotiables?” Do we choose to live our values, or do we merely pay lip service to them? Is there a similar– but different– “price” to pay for living our truth with less compromise? Are there things that cannot (or should not) be compromised? What (if anything) are we compromising by choosing to not even look at these issues?

During the 20-odd years I have spent in/around the self-growth/spiritual awakening/self-realization/enlightenment business, the one constant seems to be the way people’s journeys tend to revolve around the discovery of ways in which they have “sold out;” ways in which they have either “fallen asleep to their core truth” or “prostituted their souls” in service of I’m-not-sure-what. I have certainly recognized myself in that pattern, many times.

Life is weird.

We admire people for “uncompromisingly sticking to their values” (when it suits us), while simultaneously condemning them as “inflexible and narrow-minded because they won’t compromise” (when it suits us).

What is your bottom line?

How much of yourself are you willing to “pay” to get some perceived “benefit?”

Financially.
Spiritually.
Physically.
With your values.
In love.
In friendship.

Are you living your values, or compromising them?

Beach Life

Life’s a beach. At least a fair amount of my life has become somewhat of a beach. I can’t exactly explain how it works– or whether it’s just the negative ions doing me good– but beaches have always filled me with calm. I feel very grateful to be back near the water, after 20+ years of living more than 200 miles from the nearest coast.

Much of the coastline around here drops off steeply from the land, to the beach below. Many of the places where I walk– often with my camera– are remote. Sometimes, my own footprints are the only ones I see as I go… at least once I get a few miles out. My access comes from one of the busiest state parks in the state of Washington… but once I get about 3-4 miles down the coast, the place is deserted.

I get the sense that not even the birds are worried about people. They mostly look at me like I am “just another bird,” and pay very little mind to what I do.

The gulls certainly don’t care very much. They are often noisy, and have major battles with crows over who gets to partake in the next crab that shows up.

The sandpipers are my personal favorite. Actually, I don’t even know for sure that they are sandpipers, but they are sandpiper-like. And they are always very busy. So much to do, when you’re a bird. 

They are always running to and fro, at water’s edge… and I find myself just sitting, and watching them go about their business.

Every now and then, some larger bird will come along, and they take off across the water while shreiking loudly in protest.

Peace, Happiness, Enlightenment, and all that stuff…

A lot of people– myself included– dedicate a large part of their lives to a process we (somewhat nebulously, perhaps) describe as “finding inner peace.” I say “nebulously,” because that phrase really means different things to different people.

The whole idea of “being at peace,” at least for me, has always been a process, rather than a place or some kind of final destination. For you, it may have completely different connotations.

There are a lot of (mis)interpretations swirling around in a big nasty cloud around this business of “finding oneself.” Many of these are created by us “peaceniks,” and many are created by those who think people who engage in extensive introspection, soul-searching and self-inquiry are basically full of chit and are just looking for ways to avoid dealing with “reality.”

Perhaps the most common misinterpretation– on both sides of the table– is this idea that when someone is “at peace” they must turn into some mindless, opinionless bozo who is…. somehow… utterly unaffected by anything that goes on around them. When your neighbor’s dog pisses on your petunias, you just smile and watch butterflies…

Moosepoop.

Actually, the above is really a description of apathy, or a sort of “false peace.” Typically, the concept known as “enlightenment” gets tossed into the same general bag of goods. “Enlightened People” get lumped into some category of individuals who supposedly remain “unaffected” by the events and people in life that send others into personal depressions or rages, or whatever.

The bottom line revolves around the notion that “peace” and “enlightenment” describes a state in which a person has “risen above,” and nothing “matters” any more.

Moosepoop, ver. 2.0.

“Pathological Detachment” and “Inner Peace” are not the same thing.

On my travels, I have noticed how that image is often perpetuated from within, by ostensible gurus and spiritual self-help Teachers who teach a brand of “enlightenment” that can only truly exist in isolation. In other words, they are not “in the world” anymore. Everything is fine and dandy when you’re sitting on a hilltop in a diaper, looking at the sunset, but it crashes to the ground when you’re standing in front of your short-tempered boss who’s screaming obscenities at you while telling you to fix something that requires you to work 80 hours a week in Cleveland, for six weeks. Actually, it crashes to the ground when you realize that you still have to do the same old shit to come up with a $1000 rent payment. “Enlightenment” doesn’t excuse anyone from anything.

Being at peace isn’t about “stepping outside life,” and it’s not about being some kind of choiceless automaton who just “goes with the flow” at all times. Peace is a very active process. Peace doesn’t mean that the wrongs of the world no longer upset us, and peace doesn’t mean giving up choice, opinions and things we like. And it certainly is neither “inactive,” nor “passive.”

Peace, in a sense, is the daughter of Truth.

That is, our personal Truth… the truth that lives below the social masks and insecurities that make our lives so turbulent and difficult… every time we can look at something we did, or chose, and determine that our actions were “reactive” rather than “responsive.”

We end up being “at peace” when we live our values, rather than just talk about them. We end up feeling “at peace” when our inner dreams and ideas become manifest in our daily reality. In other words, we “walk the walk.”

So what brought about all this mumbo-jumbo?

An understanding.

And a “challenge” from a friend.

The realization that just because I live in this place where I feel “at peace” and am surrounded by many people whom I think of as “my tribe,” it doesn’t mean that ”life stops” and all my previously held beliefs and opinions somehow “go away.”

The point being that I still see the wrongs and ills of the world, and I still want to do my part to help people suffer less. Just because I “got mine” doesn’t somehow mean that I am just going to end up posting pretty pictures and saying “fehk the world, I got mine.”

I think it misses the point– with respect to “being at peace”– when we jump to the conclusion that a nice pink and bland life must follow. “Peace” doesn’t mean never seeing what’s wrong in the world, anymore. “Peace” doesn’t mean that I agreed to stop “shaking people’s trees” on a regular basis. Certain people I know didn’t suddenly stop acting like raging arseholes just because I found some measure of personal peace.

“Peace” is a statement about how I feel at the end of the day.

It’s not some kind of free pass to living as a Bliss Ninny.

“Peace” means I still see all the crap, I’m just not stressing about it, anymore.

Are we green?

/end rant-ish blog post.

 Water, everywhere…

I grew up in a country that’s surrounded by water. Although Denmark is a very small place– about 1.5 times the size of the state of Maryland. Which is a small state. And yet… Denmark has more than 3000 miles of coastline, thanks to 100′s of islands, and lots of deep bays, inlets and fjords.

A few days ago, it occurred to me that I now live in a place that’s surrounded by water, with 100′s of islands, and lots of deep bays, inlets and fjords. 

The only real major difference is mountains. Denmark is– basically– flat as a pancake. Around here, mountains are a dime a dozen. Not just a few hills, mountains.

When I was little, and we had to go anywhere at all (like 50 miles, or more), we typically needed to get on a ferry to get there. In some strange symmetrical experience, if I have to go anywhere at all around here, most likely the trip will include a ferry ride.

Quite a few people arround these parts, especially on the peninsulas and outlying islands, commute to downtown Seattle by ferry. There are park and ride lots at many of the ferry terminals.

It’s a strange feeling, in a sense. You can feel like you’re way out in the boonies, and yet… it’s a 45-minute drive and a ferry ride to the city center. Sure, it does take time, but it’s certainly not stress-inducing, the way 90 minutes on congested freeways might be. It’s a very peaceful and “low impact” way to commute.

On most days, during the afternoon rides, the upper deck of the ferry has more than a few commuters in running shoes, running or walking around the perimeter of the deck, getting in the day’s workout. I am sure the gulls are amused by the “stupid humans.”

Of course, I work at home, so whenever I take a trip to the Big City I have plenty of time to just watch the world around me, and just enjoy the water and air.

Some of the locals around here refer to trips to Seattle as “going to America.” I can understand how that idea came about– at times, it does feel a bit “isolated,” over here on the peninsula. It’s odd, in a sense, because I always thought of myself as more of a “city person,” and yet I seem to have found a “sense of place” in a town of no more than 10,000 people. 

Still… I’m glad “all that civilization” is there, just across the water. 

Changing Seasons

It is springtime around these parts. It almost feels odd to say such a thing– I lived for so many years in a place with no distinct seasons (unless you count “hot” and “hotter” as seasons). In living here, I have come to realize just how much I love a year that changes from month to month.

The apple trees in the orchard by the house are coming into full bloom.

They are old trees, once part of an orchard that covered most of what is now this neighborhood– gnarled and neglected trees, not well cared-for in that way you’d expect to find on a rental property. And yet, they continue to bear large quantities of fruit, excellent in pies, come fall.

There is also a cherry tree out there, currently so thick with blooms it is more white than anything else. What sort of cherries there will be remains to be seen.

And out towards the road is what I believe to be a plum tree, and if the blooms are anything to go by, there will be a bumper crop.

Across the street, in the neighbor’s yard, the lilacs are starting to bloom. The scent reminds me of my childhood, as do the blooming fruit trees.

Meanwhile, there is much activity in the surrounding bushes and trees. Birds, little…

and large…

are busy making nests and preparing to raise their young. The eagles are in the adjacent state park– 500 acres of wilderness about a 5-minute walk from the house.

Small Pesky Dogs

Some people are very much like Chihuahuas. No disrespect to Chihuahua owners… and that Taco Bell Chihuahua was pretty cute…

You have probably met them– they make lots of noise, stir things up, nip at people’s legs, get a good fire going… but when someone turns and snarls, they dash off in the opposite direction, usually ending up between the legs of some bigger “dog,” whom they subsequently expect to take care of the fight they were responsible for starting. “Look! They offended my honor! Defend me!” is their frequent request.

Often these are the same people who have all sorts of expectations of those around them… and get dumbfounded (or even angry) when those in their ostensible “entourage” aren’t just “delighted” to be offered the “privilege” of doing something for the metaphorical Chihuahua. Because… after all… the Chihuahuas of life always seem to be too “something” to do things for themselves… so they “farm out” responsibility and accountability for most of their life to others. And yet… we often feel sorry for them, because they inevitably have some sort of perfectly legitimate issue that “prevents” them from being active participants in their own lives.

They typically make friends easily, because they are often charming and funny… yet they struggle to hang on to friendships, because those around them eventually realize that their issues are not transient (like most people’s) but actually part of an elaborately self-serving paradigm, carefully designed to manipulate, while leaving the manipulated feeling like they are being good samaritans. For example, we give lots of compassion and special attention to a “sickly” person who’s actually only “sick” because it’s a way to manipulate others into “doing for them.”

Perhaps you have– or have had– this kind of person in your life… without really being aware of it. Often the only way to tell is by the way you feel drained, and questioning of your own perceptions, after spending any time around them.

The Nonsense of Common Sense

People so often talk about “Common Sense,” but the more I think about it, there’s nothing common about having sense. After all, if you think about it, every single person walking around out there has their own personalized spin on “what works” in the world… as a result of which, sense that is “common” pretty much boils down to such things as recognizing that it’s a bad idea to put your hand on a hot stove, or using the crapper rather than the floor when you need to… well, you know.

The rest of it? It’s very subjective. Think about all the times someone has told you that something is “common sense,” and what they said made absolutely no sense to you, in your situation at that moment. Maybe it makes sense to the speaker, but that doesn’t make it “common.”

In not-at-all-related news, next month marks my 10th anniversary as a member of the blogosphere. No, not here, silly… there were no such things as blog portals in 1997. However, it was the year I created a long-defunct site called “Shades of Gray,” which was made up of a series of journal-like pages I added to, a couple of times a week, or so. As much as anything, I was practicing HTML… but it also represented some kind of “shout into the void.” At the time, people who visited the site thought I was pretty insane to write anything of a personal nature on that big scary place known as “The Internet.”

It got me to thinking about the way a lot of folks back then were concerned about how people feel free to lie about themselves online. Even today, lots of folks avoid using the web for anything beyond doing business and staying in touch with family… because (they say) so many people online are “creepy,” and 29-year old women from Scotland really turn out to be 62-year old men from Alabama. ”They hide behind the anonymity,” they say.

There are a couple of things that kinda bug me here.

One is the default assumption that– if offered the chance– any Joe Average or Suzy Homemaker automatically turns into a pathological liar with fantasies of being a cross-dressing tapdancer from New York or a 14-year old slut puppy. Closely related is this notion of “all” these people who allegedly feel the need to parade around, masquerading as something they are not. The www aside, why do people feel compelled to not be themselves? I have read enough psychology to understand some purely intellectual theories about it… but on a deeper, more human level I end up at the question “Where’s the value?” What is “gained” by succeeding in selling the world a false image?

Maybe I am just incredibly naive in understanding the workings of the world (and I’ll buy that for a few cents; “my” tarot card is even “The Fool“), but I have never felt compelled to be “not-me.” Sure, as an insecure college student I sometimes wondered “what it might be like” to fabricate a set of lies to make myself out to be “more” than I really was in order to score dates with really hot women… but it was never more than idle speculation. The thought of being liked/disliked for anything other than just being “plain me” seemed somehow wrong, or even abhorrent. Today it just seems stupid– why would you even want to? And yet… versions of “game playing” seem to permeate every aspect of the world… from overstating our skills in job interviews to overstating our income and sexual prowess in the dating game.

Some pacifistic souls ponder “why can’t we all just get along?”

For me, the burning question is “Why can’t people just be truthful about themselves?”

Some will undoubtedly tell me that it’s a result of people living stressful lives they don’t really like– and needing something to make themselves feel better about their lot. Often, there are rationalizations, liberally peppered with variations of the phrase “but I can’t” or “I can’t help it.” Maybe I have an overly simplistic view of things– but if you don’t like your life, change it.

Or, as George Bernard Shaw once wrote: “People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don’t believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and if they can’t find them, make them.”

Seems like “common sense” to me….

Life Classes Where I Was Absent, Part I

OK, so I am aware (in part, because the majority of the people who read these words are female) that I may be poking at a hornet’s nest with a really short stick, but there’s something that has always puzzled me. It has come back to puzzle me again, recently– although the particular triggering incident now escapes me.

Why is it that so many women (and maybe men do the same thing, and I am just not aware of it) who quite openly profess a dislike of, and/or repulsion towards sex will go to great lengths to look sexY and put effort into looking “hot?” On the way out the door, they’ll ask “Do I look hot?” but the first man (or woman, for that matter) who comments on their appearance will get the “look of death” and possibly get bitchslapped five days into next month.

My friend Diana once “explained” it with a metaphor, thusly: “If the guy who comments happens to be George Clooney, I’ll bat my eyelashes at him and say ‘thank you.’ If it’s anyone else, I’ll snarl at them.”

From my “ignorant male” standpoint, that strikes me as akin to going fishing all the time, even though you hate fish. Or advertising a big sale at your store, and then being closed when the customers show up. Or, more specifically, telling them “just because I HAVE a great store doesn’t mean I want to SELL anything in it.”

Oh, now I remember.

The “triggering incident” was someone wearing a rather revealing pair of warm-up pants with the word “juicy” across her butt– who got very offended that someone looked at her ass. I realize it’s not quite the same as my original question, but it seems to be from the same “family.”

Now, I realize that not everyone has stellar mental health, as a result of which some people engage in obviously toxic and insecure behavior patterns… but my above puzzlement comes from observing things that fairly obviously transcend a recreational personality disorder. At least in my world.

From where I am sitting, it looks like an irrational suspension of the believe that “Action A” is in anyway connected with “Outcome B.” Whether it’s out of sheer ignorance of the action -> consequence relationship, or a conscious manipulation (like poking at someone till they explode in anger, and then berating them for having a bad temper), I am not wise to.

What am I missing, here?

Let the flames fly! Or– at least– tell me something that makes sense…

I feel blurred, this morning.

The day before yesterday I ate something– not too sure what– as a result of which I spent the evening, night and much of the next morning dealing with the ravages of food poisoning. Praying to the Great White Porcelain God, and other items from the TMI Department.

It occurred to me, this morning, that I have only felt really, really, really sick four times in my 46 years. All four have been the consequence of eating something… a bad oyster when I was nine, not-sure-what when I was in boarding school at 17, some sub-standard sushi about 10 years ago, and now this. Measels and even malaria (yes, I had that, once) have nothing on food poisoning.

I feel like I’ve been dragged backwards through a combine harvester. Then a bunch of thugs spent a couple of hours beating me with onion-filled socks.

Why the phuck am I sitting here, writing? It allows me to be mostly still, and upright. And the fever/pain combination tends to make for some interesting thoughts, in a strangely acid-trippy way.

But at the same time, I am feeling rather blurred.

When I feel like this, it reminds just how much of my self-perception is tied up in being “a physically healthy person.” I feel fortunate to have been given a mostly very functional and low-maintenance “biological container” to go through this iteration of life with. Which makes it that much more “wrenching” on the the rare occasions when something does go wrong.

Somewhere in my stupor, I was thinking about the blurry lines of life… or is it lives?

Many moons ago– back in the infancy of the Internet and “Virtual Communities”– it was only the deep nerds who explored the electronic worlds. There was a popular conception that people were online in “communities” simply because they “didn’t have a life.” These days, “virtual life” has become a household concept, yet the subtext that people who spend time online (engaged in any number of activities– I spend a LOT of time online, trying to make a living) are “out of touch with reality” and “need to get a life.”

[Of course, we say that, but I often wonder how we categorize the pen pal craze of the Victorian era. 100+ years ago, there were 1000's (if not millions) of people who kept up decades-long correspondences with people they never met. I wonder if they were ever told to "get a life?"]

I am not going to get into philosophizing along the standard arguments as to whether or not people we met online are “real” or not– that debate has been running since before Cod invented dirt. I am more interested in looking at wants and needs, and their bearing on how we choose to live our lives.

In my new town here, I have become part of the local “Conversation Cafe,” in part as a way to get to know a few people in this town. The Port Townsend branch of this organization is one of the oldest and longest-lived in the nation– and there are certainly some nice people there. I really enjoy this group of people, and the way we sit down and talk about something a little more “real” than Sanjaya’s hairstyle. Our “Intrepid Leader,” Jim Rough, is actually of the belief that we can change the world for the better by creating forums through which the world can rebuild its lost sense of community.

That’s all fine and good, if you happen to live in a place shares values predominantly consistent with your own. Many people don’t. And it can be a lot more work to find “fellow tribe members” in random groups of people, than to find them with the use of the vast array of prequalifying and “sorting tools” the web allows. Which leads me to question the assertion that we really do “not have a life” when we look for our sense of connection with the world, through virtual communities.

Established paradigms are extremely resistant to challenges, as is anything/anyone whose continuation and existence is threatened by change. Many people of a more… “traditional“… mindset seem to feel threatened by the idea that a person might be able to take care of part/most of the social interaction needs through the Internet. In sense, the subtext of their assertions suggest that “we should be happy with what we can GET, rather than go looking for what we WANT.” Maybe that’s an unfair spin I’m putting on it… but that’s how it comes across, to me.

It reminds me of one of the quotes in my big quotes file: “Those who have lost sight of their own dreams will often discourage yours.”

Ultimately, this begs the question “What is it we really WANT, in interaction with others?”

It also begs the secondary question “Is there really a measure for what constitutes ‘good’ and ‘bad’ ways to connect with other human beings?”

I think the basic fallacy behind the assertion that those who join online communities need to “get a life” is that we’re “all the same.” We’re not all the same… and thank Cod for that. I grant you that there are some people who simply can’t see a connection as “real” unless it involves sitting in a smoky room, holding a bottle of beer. Fair enough. But please don’t apply that standard to me.

Bottom line here, I feel, should ultimately be “Are my needs being met?” And that comes with the debate as to whether “I” or “society” gets to be the judge and jury as to whether said needs are being met. And frankly, I vote for the former.

Isn’t it more important THAT people are reaching out and forming connections than HOW they are doing it?

Caution: Flow-of-consciousness ramble ahead.

Try as we might, I guess we can’t be “consistent” all the time.

I realize that I periodically ponder “where people go.” It could be pretty much any people, anywhere. For the sake of an easy example, let’s just take the xangasphere. You get to know someone, read their words, share comments and lives… and then, one day, no more posts appear. Messages are not replied to. Maybe the message saying “The owner of this blog has closed their site” appears, out of the blue. In real life, phone calls stop. The person from work stops going to happy hour. Sometimes people just go away.

And I find myself wondering “what happened??? Where did they go?”

Then I sit here, contemplating that question, and realize that I also tend to “vanish,” from time to time. Hence the comment about “consistency;” it’s hardly consistent of me to complain about something I’m actually doing, myself.

Although I wasn’t really complaining. Just wondering.

Those who know me well, also know that I “disappear” from time to time. And (bless your hearts) you accept that as being part of the “package” that’s who I am.

Which brings me around to the whole issue of friendships and relationships. It’s hard for most people not to have “expectations” as to what they want a friendship, or a love relationship to “mean.” And I think that’s perfectly reasonable, in some limited way. After all, knowing what you want (and choosing it) is one of the core aspects of finding contentment in life. Yet, the moment you bring “expectations” to the table, you also start to run the risk of bringing desires to “change” the other person into something that’s closer to “how you see the world.” And that’s…

… well, it’s not really all that good.

Expectations… well, they seem to create work, where none might really be needed. When faced with expectations, we tend to move towards “becoming,” when– in fact– we already “are.” Yeah, I know. I’ve heard this stupid phrase since I was quite young: “You have to compromise.”

I don’t delude myself that friendships and relationships don’t take work. The jury is out, however, with respect to just how much work is reasonable. If I had a dollar for every time I have heard someone tell me “marriage is haaaard work” (usually with a tone of dogged resignation), I’d probably– at least– be driving a late model car. There’s a good chance that a house on the California coast might also be in the cards.

I suppose everyone has their own philosophy about how they connect with others, and the “terms” under which such connections take place. When you dig below the surface, this can usually be looked at as each person having their own individual setting on the “how-much-crap-I’m-willing-to-put-up-with” meter. The more crap someone’s willing to put up with, the more likely they are to talk about how “difficult” relationships are, and how much “work” you need to put into them to make them work.

On the surface, I suppose that sounds “noble,” but on deeper reflection it strikes me as somewhat masochistic… even bordering on some variation of low self-esteem, that’s expressed as a subliminal ”unworthiness.” Being willing to take all manners of shyghte– even if disguised as “open mindedness”– is still saying that you don’t believe you deserve better than to “take all manners of shyghte.” It also strikes me as admitting that you’re willing to settle for “whatever” (with the hidden implication of taking less than you want, and “making it work”) rather than striving to find what you actually want. I’m just saying….

Of course, I’m a lazy butt. And whereas I have a better grasp on the workings of the human psyche than many folks out there, certain things escape me. Why do people even TRY to be friends with people they have nothing in common with? And then, it becomes this huge amount of “work” to keep the (tenuous, at best) connection going. And then those marriages, in which both partners are perpertually complaining about the other, 24/7… but if questioned will almost robotically respond, on cue, like trained seals: ”because I LOVE him/her.” Maybe I have a pervertedly unrealistic sense of how the Universe works… but from over here, what I am seeing doesn’t fit any dictionary definition of what “love” looks like.

As I said, I’m a lazy butt. I’m always gonna look for the “easy button,” and if I can just walk around the fence, I’m fer-shure-as-shyghte not gonna expend a bunch of effort and risk to climb 20 feet up, and 20 feet down for some nebulous reason like “because I CAN.”

Maybe it’s just a matter of where you choose to put your effort. Do you put it into making the right choices in the first place, or into making “whatever” choices you make right, after you’ve made them? Me? Frankly, I’ve reached the point where I’d rather put my effort into finding out the exact direction in which I want to go, than into just going in “some” direction and spend all eternity making course corrections, switchbacks and turns.

I’m not claiming that I’m “right.” Merely that I have a “right” to believe as I do. And to choose accordingly.

I also am not claiming perfection. Hell, it took me three decades of… [fill in some meaningful word]… to get here. To this point. To have this knowledge.

There are an awful lot of ways to “get it wrong.” But when you “get it right,” you only have to choose once.