… sheee’s baaaack …

Hi all… surprised to see me?  and after all these days, months,
years?   well…….. just couldn’t stay away forever, could I.

There’s been so many changes, so much goings and comings,
and once again that Brasilian is in my life… and for good this time.

Want to hear more?  Stay tuned.  I have so much to tell you,
and we are starting a New Blog!  with video conversations and
a thousand insights ….

mendo coastStay close, stay tuned, stay Happy!

… when i kissed you …

“When I kissed you, I felt Life…

I was Alive…

We found eachother in a very common way.

With you, I was fucking Life.

I was filling myself with Life.

I was mesmerized with you.”

 

…..Alcir, 2005

Photo in Tahoe, 1986

alcir in tahoe close

… i…me…me…mine …

Meandering Journal thoughts, after nearly 2 weeks in Rio:
January 9, 2006

“Wearing white, a Brasilian tradition on important days.  It shows off
the tan skin, creates a reflective surface between skin and sun.
Makes a woman feel virginal, something revered, as well as something
reviled.  What’s that about? ….how classic RC can we get, she thought.

She reposed, she reflected, she responded, she just couldn’t figure.
How could someone so intelligent be so stupid, stuck so full of the
Stench of the Past.
It is not good for humans to be too much alone,…
We are broken into pieces for a reason………..

God alone.  Just an Ego, creating, loving, enjoying, talking to itself…
But …..break it into…. oh, let’s see…. a Quadzillion pieces, and oh!
the Glorious Reflections.
Dazzling………Maddening…. and so distracting, endlessly.

So, back to  the One, back to the pieces….One, pieces, one, pieces,
ad infinitum.

She wanted to Scream it… Look Stupid, I’m Here, Ready, in the Now….
You want Results… You want me to reflect you, just like the Dream
Me reflecting You, in your one eyed fantasies… I’m Real…
I am Here because I love you…  Or… am I?  She even questioned that…

Maybe we’re just the best each of us can do, right now… we’re both
old and decrepit, as you love to keep reminding me….
So …  go find something better…. !!
oh!  the threat!
It’s all become the old struggle of Egos.  Will against will.  Who will win?
Well…you Must, or we cannot be a couple.  In your world, it is
heirarchical, and Man is on top.  In my world, I think I want a Partner,
different but equal.
How can our visions be so different?  Ore are they?
Yes, I feel superior in ways….at least i don’t Hate my Father…OR my
Mother, for that matter.  I have dear friends that I manage to keep
things well enough OK with… with distance….

Is it DISTANCE that allows for closeness, love, compassion, desire?

OK… in this world of duality, Yes, of course.
But only on a more minor scale, when it comes to life partners…
Some friends once a year, some once a week…
But that ever elusive Partner… Opposite must Be to attract… grow,
but Likeness must Flourish to sustain and maintain.
How to flourish Likeness?  Shared experience, a history built up
in time, of things to share, to remind eachother of likenesses.
But how to diminish resistance to agreement?… If it’s my idea,
it Must be bad, wrong, or at least diverted for while until it’s His.

I…Me….Me…. Mine.  A Giant shit pile of Ego.”

 

————————————-

… what is love?…

Ah the eternal question… n’est pas?

What is it that turns stable and sane people, who are
quite able to function and breeze over most of the big
bumps in life…
…into creatures who suddenly find themselves on a
rollercoaster of internal chemicals, unable to
think of much else, and behave like mindless
blubbering idiots?

“Love…an intense feeling of deep affection, a deep romantic
or sexual attachment to someone;
fondness, darling, passion,
to fancy, be fond of, or adore.”

Well!  that certainly covers a bit of territory.
Me thinks we need about 18 words for love, like the
Eskimo/Inuit with their many words for Snow…
(although Google tells me this is another myth, and that
the European Sami People are the ones with all the words)

No wonder we’re confused. Let’s try going deeper…

“1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as
for a parent, child, or friend.”

or how bout…

“1. A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude
toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition
of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.
2. A feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person
with whom one is disposed to make a pair; the emotion
of sex and romance.
3. a. Sexual passion.
b. 
Sexual intercourse.
c. 
A love affair.”

And it goes on…and on…My Favorite is ….
“a Zero score in tennis.”
OK… now I’m even more confused.
Biologically, they say it’s all about Chemistry.
There are wonderful substances that release when we
‘fall in love’, and these create such pleasure in our brain
centers, it becomes a high very much like cocaine,
and apparently, just as addictive.
But that still doesn’t answer the Why of it…
Why do we ‘fall in love’ with only certain someones…?

For me, I know that I was programmed for it….let’s call it
Romantic Love.
I’m an American, and between the old fairy tales, Disney,
and Hollywood… well, there ya go.

I was also somewhat sheltered, raised on myths, prone to
fantasy, and innocent in the most wholesome way.
I have grown wise to the world, but I am still a fool
when it comes to Love.

But I Do know the difference between “Being in Love”, which
is the Romantic equivalent of idiotic infatuation, and Real Love.
And I don’t think Anyone outgrows the ability to fall in love,
at least for a little while.
Out of mind would be the appropriate phrase.

But as time passes, if you have some genuine aspects there
that hold your interest and continue the attachments, you begin
to have Real Love, which is this deep and abiding feeling of tender
appreciation and attachment,  plus an admiration for parts of
a person, even though you are well aware of their
shortcomings and rotten parts.

This is very different from the first, and much more satisfying.
It is at this phase that you might actually find someone
you can stay with.

Well…?  don’t you honestly in your heart of hearts finally
somewhere believe there is a Someone for you, a someone
that was predestined to find you, or you them,
…someone who will be the mirror to your disposition and the
puzzle piece you’ve been waiting for…
…the perfect fit sexually, of course…..as well as
Someone who will appreciate the little parts of you that
others might find strange and irritating…
…and it really helps if that someone also Real Loves You…

Oh, the Right one will not only Get it, they will Enjoy it…
Relish it, Savor those eccentric, delightful parts of you, that
you Know are wonderful and shareable… and just a little weird.

Come on … admit it.  Even the cynics, the disheartened,
the broken hearted, and the most world weary amongst us…

I am willing to bet that down in the heart of your beaten up little
heart, is that soft little core, that childishly, purely as a child,
sweetly as butterflies, believes there will be someone who will
Understand who we Really are, while also turning us on….

….to the point of mind bending ecstatic transformational
blending of two souls into one magnificent pulsating
glowing being….whilst allowing us to leave our bodies and
become one with the Universe…
…oh wait…am I aiming too high?

Come on…. it’s there, you know it…
otherwise, why would we keep on trying to find it?

I wonder, as I look clearly at it now, if I was up to the task.
I chose not only a Brazilian man, but also a genius…
a Revolutionary, free thinking, well educated wild man,
…who read all the classics while still a child, and dreamed
of being one of those heroes who changed the world.
A man who saw very early that Most of the present world
is basically bullshit, and way off course.
Someone who didn’t fit in, and never wanted to.
And someone who was punished
from day one for being who he was.

And with a primal spirit that chose a physique so enriched and
so blessed, as to be called Special….in the nicest way….

So able and blessed, that he believed on the one hand that
he was able to do Anything, while on the other hand having
been told he was bad, so bad he was not even worth a mother’s love.
Confused, torn, convoluted, lonely, cynical, and hopeful…
…and a complete Romantic.

Do I like challenges….ya think?

So what’s my deal?  And what have I learned from all of this,
this story that is still and yet half-told…?

One…. Sometimes Love is not enough.
Two…. we know not what the goal or outcome is, or might be.
Three… let go and let…(insert the name of whomever you choose
as your source of wisdom, life and trust.)
Oh, and don’t forget
Four…. shit happens, the Universe decides, and shit happens.
Stuff floats into life…and we call it, even if we deny it.

That, and making Art of Life… is my project, my path, and
my choice… deal with it, process it, and enrich Life itself.

And make your wishes known to the Universe, visualize what
you’d like, and then…..choose what comes…

 

 

… mercy …

I believe all are redeemable.  Each and every one of us…
Redeemable.
And I believe we all Will be redeemed in time.

I do not speak in some Western Christian manner, but from
something deeper, older, and from that still small voice within.

Bodisatvas know, and they wait until the last joins us.
Buddha, Quan Yin, and others.  For we are all truly One, even
though we don’t know or feel or admit it right now.

I am guilty of that oversight, seriously so some days, less so on
others.   I love to deny the idiots that invade my reality are really
me, like me, a reflection of me and ultimately  me.

That African story I shared yesterday really touched my heart,
for that is an awareness that is missing in this meager culture of
ours, true community, which is truly Caring for each and every one.

Think how we could change Everything, if we just took our problem
children to the center of town and embraced them and reminded
them of all their goodnesses, over and over, and for days on end.
The shell would melt away, and that beautiful inner core that was
so visible when we were precious babies would once again lead
their way, determine their path.
Heartbreaking beauty, yes?

That was my part to walk in this passion play I share with you…
Drawn in by a sweeping and undeniable romance, it allowed me,
nay insisted, that I was to see the true and exquisite child within,
the pure core of a person worth redeeming, redeemable, and
working his way towards recovering himself in all his glory.

This was the vision I held with this person i keep writing about…
I looked at the boy within, before he’d been so disillusioned and
ruined by life and cruelty, and bent into defense position
and distortion…
He showed me flashes of true spirit so many times, somehow
trusting me, sometimes fighting me, sometimes begging me to
take his hand and lead him out of the chasm he had fallen into.

This is not something to be taken lightly, no, this is an honor
granted by fate and heavenly influences, and aside from human
frailty of my own, I truly believed, and still do, that he will
finally come around, just like all of us will.

He just couldn’t do it yet, and that’s ok.  Timing is everything.

 

__________________________________________

… reflections on a week …

Journal musings…. January  2006 in Rio

“You have to really Want this, for this to work,”  he says,
and the words echo through the convolutions of brain cells,
concentric circles from a center…. created by a leaden heart.

It felt so heavy.  All of it.  Sad….. Dark.

Confusion had set in, and too much thinking could be dangerous.
Yet to not-think was unthinkable…. Hmmmm.

She’d been given the front veranda upon which to sit, to get
away from him, from the constant TV, and his moods.
….which actually was quite remarkable, amazing really,
and she could view the wandering streets and flashing
cloud storms and island comings amidst the constant breezes
with a sort of detachment that she needed… desperately.

“This is My House”, he would announce to no one in particular,
at no particularly special moment…except
to her I guess, and the dog, and his Mother upstairs,
and to himself most of all.

His stubborn willfulness had served him well at one time,
most of his life more likely.  But now it felt like stacks of
concrete pillows, between the two bodies lying side by side.

Was she to be like the desolate dog, if you could call him a dog,
that was allotted two small spaces within which to eat, do his
duties, be quiet and cower.

He addressed him as “Get the Fuck….” as the poor wretch
jumped up, desperate for a touch, for tenderness… and the
man would cringe, because he hated the dog.
It was the most disturbing thing she’d witnessed so far, the
distain he held for this shit eating dog who had so thoroughly
disappointed him and his visions of what a dog should be.

Maybe the dog was just trying to clean up his jail cell,
she thought, maybe he’s really trying to be a good dog…

Was she to be the “other twin”, protruding from his ribs, ever
connected, never her own, never as large or as individuated?
“Be by my side” now had it’s double meaning.

Did he even begin to know how to let anyone in, even one
he claimed to love?  Was he even in control of the little door
that swung open and closed, daily…
There’s the light, and wait…. oh, and now it’s gone…

Did the most courageous man she’d ever known cower
at the possibility of real love?
For this was love becoming real, going far beyond the
fantasy he loved so well and could keep in control.
Beyond the heroes in books he’d emulated, the ones
who would run off to fight another dragon.

No pretense holding distance… This was so real it was
palpable, in the air and sifting like dust to the surfaces
of everything he touched in this cell he shared with her.

“I’m going over the Abyss”, he had sighed one morning,
a couple of days ago.
……………..”and do you know Why?”

She looked long and hard at his face, now miserable
with confusion, yet here he was, the little door opening
just a bit once again …

She motioned to herself…. and slowly he nodded,
…. sadly, tenuously, as though for that moment he had
risen out of his automatic self and was viewing it all
with clarity and a mildly puzzled perspective.

“What do I do?” …..

After a moment, her own answer came, as it always had,
since more years than she cared to remember.

“Jump and Trust…. that’s all you can do…….

“OK….”, he nodded, and it was done.

 

____________________

ImageJanuary 1, 2006

Rio de Janeiro, on the island in Guanabara Bay…

Sunday morning is a disaster.  I was demolished, maybe slept
an hour at best, and can hardly begin to sort out my feelings.

Our fabulous NY Eve had turned into near disaster, with him
so drunk, more so than I’d Ever seen him, crashing into people,
passing out for 4 hours, leaving me in a strange country with
no idea where to go or what to do.  Thank God for the kindness
of Brasilians, all Two Million of them along Copacabana Beach,
for there were a few who knew 3 words in English and helped
me while I waited for Mr Wonderful to wake up.

When he awoke, it was dawn, and he was still drunk, and
kept asking me if I still loved him.   Once he awakened on the
street, we found the bus, walked home up the hill, and collapsed.
The same thing went on all day Sunday, him all pitiful and so
hungover,  but somehow we got through it.  Not pretty.

Monday, no one was working, so we stayed home, and I got sick.
Throat sore, coughing, sinus ache… tired… We slept a lot,
watched movies, and slept some more.  It was a good way to
avoid facing our reality from both sides, I suppose.

Tuesday we went for a long walk to the town area and stores
where we could get groceries, and I bought a great set of
stainless steel pans to replace the toxic antiques he was used
to using.  Here I was buying organic produce, and he was
using aluminum and teflon, with no idea what he was doing
to his gorgeous cooking.
He was a great cook, having learned at his Grandmother’s
side, and I remember fondly the way he would make cross cuts
on the half onion in his hands, using a small paring knife,
then make slices across to make little squares for his sauces.
He’d do it the way old people used to do, and beautiful hands
he had…brown and graceful and elegant, as he laughed and
stirred and tasted.

I am sick with fever, and after we walk home through the
old delapadated suburbs and put things away, he goes out
again.   He doesn’t just go out… he comes back and goes out
again, getting drunk, snorting god knows what, and getting
drunk again.
The third time he wants to go, he tells me not to let him,
to tell him Not to, so I do, and he lingers.
Finally I say…”want a massage?” and he melts.
“OK”…  and he falls upon the couch pads.
He falls asleep during the entire back side massage, and
sleeps deeply, quietly, the way he almost always does…
How can a man like him be so peaceful in sleep?

He wakes up speaking Portuguese, and I guess talking
himself awake from a dream leftover.  I laugh…
He does amuse me.

 

_______________________________________

Dead Man Awakening