opportunity

Why is the blog nearly defunct?

I find words troubling. I am compelled to try and use them to communicate, to find meaning and express it. But as often as not, they create disconnection.

Who is this seeking the communication anyway?

Is there really a someone in here, who needs to be expressed, and if so, who would that be? The serious worrier, who realistically appraises 30+ years of relationships, and says impossible? The medicated adventurer, who more confidently dances? The barely competent, barely American economic entity, with no home, $300, and a car about to tank? The traveler, permaculture idealist, tantrika, in search of shamanic bioremediation? The stock clerk pushing 50?

Maleness is internally, culturally, environmentally as challenging as ever. Go too fast and get stuck in the selfish stupidity of romantic fantasy patterns. Go too slow and die, consumed by self-consciousness killing everything in its wake. Rely on hara power and find meaning full enough to run the gauntlets of paradox! Watch as a knee blows out and then there are no words left at all, no strategies, meaninglessness!

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In my most recent destructive affair, I was at once too masculine and not male enough.

I was too eager, too romantic, too sexual... and also too scared, inept, and lightweight. I was too caring and too uncaring. Needy of conversation and yet unable to generate it. Unintentionally injurious, and unable to help heal. In a two-day span, I traveled from stranger to friend to lover to ex. It was nearly two months ago now, and the time has passed in the blink of an eye. Why does it take two months to process a misguided two-day affair?

Time is the conundrum and also the savior of meaning here. Amidst all the failures and fuckups, with medications and incompetence and ideals all accounted for, there is still never a moment to waste in worry.

This living Now, with its living practical relational needs, is a Higher Power.

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And now suddenly you? What are we doing? What is your dream? How does any of this fit together? Put a hold on the expat strategy!

I do need to come clean about both my intense idealism and these edges that I live on... lacking any belonging to this capitalist system. Then we can talk across the unacknowledged chasm from my actuality to you here, and see if a bridge is worth building.

My search for integrity and willingness to love are both grand. The scattered points of reference which define me also include my New York intensity and speed, my introverted impossible delay, all my shadows, my desire to give over to someone so completely that I am revealed, my love of the liminal and need for directness.

Someone once told me that tantra is everything on the table in service of healing. I like that. A lot.

Do you have more structure than I do, a self to protect, greater sensitivity and need for clarity, as well as a greater capacity to direct? Is there space for my male desire to give to you, in a healthy way, more spiritual than romantic? Can I slow down enough to allow your process, yet still be present enough with healthy unselfconscious male drive to co-create this? What does maximum mutual nourishment look like?

Perhaps beauty

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Then ugly speaks, in turn, claiming its space!

Maybe things are both a lot less serious and a lot less rational than we are trying to make them. With all deliberation and pace, love is always a crap shoot of dysfunctions which will either align or not. It ultimately brings us face to face with the most naked ugliness of ourselves and another, our deepest fears and pain beyond our ability to bear, impossible choices...

And then with whatever prayer we can bring--conflict transformation, adventure, emptiness, hara--we again choose. Life is ever an opportunity to learn to say

yes