#gratitudeNow:Nothing doing. And Everything Going On.

There's this favorite quote I understand just a little bit better today.  

"Wisdom is knowing I am nothing and no one,

Love is knowing I am everything and everyone.

Between the two my life moves."

--Nisargadatta Maharaj

I have this daily practice of meditation and contemplation. I spend some amount of time each day thinking on some idea, some concept about being... well, actually just about being.  I think about emotions, about people, about relationships, about what it means to be alive.  

I've been doing it for about 15 years now.  It's often really hard work, but just as often really rewarding.

Lately I've been focused on perspective taking, which is distinct from empathy or even sympathy. Perspective taking is the distinct action of trying to see things from someone else's perspective, to learn their feelings, their desires, their fears.

A cartoon.  In the left panel a castaway on a tiny island sees a boat in the distance, raises his arms, and cries out, "BOAT!".  In the right panel, the guy in the very tiny boat sees an island far away with someone on it, holds up his hands and cries out, "LAND!"

Take this cartoon.  Both these people see in the other person something they need, and they are so very excited to get it from that other person.  It's somewhat dark humor, because in reality neither has that-needed-thing to give.

Some things about perspective-taking really clicked home for me this morning.  Over the past two years or so, I've been devoting a lot of my contemplation-and-meditation time to what I now recognize as the idea of emotional interdependence.  

What the heck is that?  It's the idea that while I, as a person, interact with others, am affected by them, and affect them too, that there's a certain, and very healthy emotional self-sufficiency I can fall back on, and in fact, must to avoid harming others or myself.

I consider myself to be a kind, compassionate person.  Someone who usually has the best interest of others front and center in my attention.  But sometimes that's not so.  I have chased others to give me something I had been lacking for.  Sometimes that's been comfort, reassurance, a quick hit of pleasure or eroticism, to help me do a technical thing I feared I couldn't do by myself, all sorts of things.

About two years ago, I went through an awkward situation with someone I was very close to where I was chasing them for something I wanted them to do in their life.  But it wasn't up to me, it was up to them to make whatever changes in their life they might.  After a very rough time, I stopped chasing them.  I made this strong resolution, "I don't chase anyone, for anything."

Well, two years of contemplation later, I realized that there's a corollary to this.  Because lately I've been getting chased some.  We haven't been doing the podcast for several months, and I get emails from folks who like it, total strangers, asking what's going on with the show, and with us, and when it will be back.  I've had some very nice friends who flirt with me sometimes, and when I'm in the mood for such, it feels really good.  But when I'm not in the mood, or its uninvited, it feels sort of slimy.

And that's not a statement on how those people are jerks.  They are most distinctly not jerks. They're people.  And me, I'm a people, too.  Because I've done just those same sorts of things to others.  I've chased people for any number of reasons, blindly putting my own desires ahead of any thought of what they had going on.

This idea, this challenge of perspective-taking, it's not new.  I've been thinking about it, and maybe not quite getting it for a looooong time.  One of my favorite songs is about it.  It's called "The Balance" by The Moody Blues.

I get that song in a way I never did before.  Right along with that awesome quote.  It's firmed my resolve about some things.

First, when I catch myself chasing, to do my best to stop.  And to own it, apologize to others when and where I have the chance to do so.

Second, when I get chased, and it's in a place and time where it's not working out for me, to say so to the chaser, directly, but with loving kindness.  Because I've been there, and I am them, and they are me.

Third, I'm not going to waste a single moment trying to get away from this pattern.  Because I think it's part of the human condition.  

The sociologist Brené Brown says that being vulnerable to people you trust is an antidote to shame.  But that trust is earned.  You have people you go to, to get that confirmation that you're worthy of love and belonging with them.  That's a sort of emotional interdependence you grow over time.  I wouldn't want to not do that.  I don't think it's even possible.  I'm so very grateful for those who I have built that trust with, that we can lean on and into one another.

That takes time, and work, and love.

I'm grateful for it.

#gratitudeNow:Being an ice guy

I was catching up​....

with an old friend, M. today. She's an ageplayer too, wears diapers, wants spankings, all that stuff.  You know, just a regular person.

Anyhow, ​we were talking about the podcast, and my coaching practice, going to kink events,and  the pride symbol. I confided in my friend that I'm sort of "semi-retired" from the whole thing.

Seriously.  

I can count on one hand the number of shows we've recorded in the past six months. I haven't actively had any coaching clients in over a year.  I go to the occasional munch, but not with any sort of regularity.  I'm in the middle of writing a 3rd novel, but it's on an indefinite hold while I work on other things.

So many of the things I do, by which I define myself, have really changed. ​

On the other hand, some things have remained, even grown.  I'm still kinky, still poly, still an ageplayer.

I've just shifted some priorities around. I have been hard at work at creating a business for about a year now.​

My relationships are strong and good, evolving along with me.​  In my day job, I'm technically challenged and actively growing each and every day.​

​The thing that struck me as I was talking with my friend about this was that my identity, my sense-of-self is really rather fluid. I'm on the move, striking out in new directions. 

When I was a kid, my dad once said that success in life was like a vector in physics. You pick a direction, and head towards it, at speed. If it stops working for you, or your circumstances change, you pick a new direction, change course, and keep right on going.​

It also strikes me that that sort of mindfulness is a bit like the matter shift water does. When water's cold, it freezes into the shape of its container. But when things heat it up melts down and begins to flow into the shape that matches where it is. ​

I find that applying to me more and more these days. I'm actively melting down and finding a new shape for who I am and what I do. ​

I'm grateful for it. ​

#gratitudeNow: You're wet, too.

So this morning...

I'm surfing the internet in bed, from my phone, like you do.  I stumbled onto a short film called YES, GOD, YES.

Here's how the film-makers describe it.  "Fifteen-year-old Alice has always been a good Catholic, but when an innocent AOL chat turns unexpectedly racy, she finds herself suddenly obsessed with masturbating."

This film is brilliant.  It's literally a coming-of-age story.  If you watch it carefully, you can see subtle, artful skewering of all sorts of social conventions and hypocrisies.  And, without giving away any spoilers, Alice, after floundering some, really finds her sexual agency, really takes responsibility for her own ideas around sex.

Don't take my word for it.  Watch it!

One last, weirdly bizarre moment of grace or something about this film.  After I saw it, I just knew I had to blog about it, because of this weird little thing about how Karen Maine,  the film's writer, director, and producer uploaded the film.

"Uploaded by Karen Maine... via MAKO UPLOADER."

I'm super grateful films like this exist.

Important:Rollercoaster Mindfulness

Recently I got into a discussion with a friend about the difference between apathy and mindful detachment.

"What the heck is the difference?" my friend asked.  "What even is mindful detachment?"

I spent some days thinking about it.  Found a good way to tell them.

#gratitudeNow:Refangulation by Panties

So, about 25 years ago, a college friend of mine, Rob embarked on a secret, lifelong mission with me.  It's been long enough that I feel I can finally come clean about it.

We were both fascinated by the word "quiz" and its unusual origin.  It had been more or less injected into the english language as an exploit, back in the late 18th century.  Being two stalwart academics with an eye toward both nerdishness and tomfoolery, we decided we would do our own guerrilla assault on the English language, inserting our own nonsense word.

That word is Refangulate.  It's a verb, meaning to measure by relative means.  You know how a cubit is from Pharaoh's tip of his finger to his elbow?  That's refangulation.  How about how a smurf is three apples high, or how a horse is so many handspans tall?  Yup, refangulation again.

I have subtly used the word in conversation for over two decades, trying to get it to catch.

The reason I'm coming clean about it today is that this morning, as I was getting dressed, I caught myself in an unwitting act of self-refangulation by panties, as I was getting dressed.

Two pairs of my underpants.  Technically only one pair is a pair of panties.  Cat (Yang) included for size comparison.  Which I suppose is a form of refangulation itself, so, a double!

I'm going through my underwear drawer, like you do, picking out what I want to wear for the day, while I dodge the loving underfoot antics of my cats.  As I'm going through the drawer I notice the pair on the lefthand side of the picture, which are relatively new, and which I bought several months ago.  When I first got them they were just a bit too small on me to even be worn.  The pair on the right are a pair of panties my wife bought for me, a long while back.  

I kept both of these pairs of underpants because I like them, and because I knew I wanted to fit into them.  I'm down almost 33 pounds now from when I started doing keto back in mid-March, and they've both become QUITE comfortable.  I'm slowly shrinking into underpants I really like, and which will soon become too big to wear.

I realized that I've begun to measure myself by panties.  That's a refangulation I can really get behind.  Or into.  Or something.