relax. breathe.

how do i become like one of the really successful, always happy, always spot on kind of people? i learn how not to breathe. i know that my body will never obey me if i don’t get tough with it. my body, left to listen to nature, will follow circadian rhythms, the cycles of the moon, spinning of the earth, the seasons, the pains of hunger and joys of being fed, its own breath, etc.

my body will feel great and i will listen to it, instead of the other way around.

the lady in the power suit commanding the audience has forsaken everything her body tells her. this is the essence of becoming a leader: learning to command your own body first. when you are low on fuel, fuel up at the vending machine to keep your motor running. feeling a little low? take a pep pill or two. need to come down? have a gin and tonic or a sleeping pill. but, more importantly, treat your body like an indestructible tank, running it rough, but driving it like it’s a brand new cadillac–drive it in style.

cultivate an image, as the illusionists do, an image of you always being alert, awake and happy.

most importantly, learn how not to breathe.

diving into the deep end of the adult world and all of the power struggles that entertwine themselves around you, pulling you further and further away from God and yourself, you must hold your breathe for fifty years, not looking back once up at the sunlight. when you feel like you are in way over your head, dive deeper. when you feel like your lungs might burst, clench your muscles tighter, holding in the last precious reserves of oxygen. and, when all the oxygen is gone, you’ll either: grow gills and never return to being a child of God, drown and hopefully get the opportunity to be born again, swim back to shore, retain some sanity, some wholeness, become one with God and yourself again, and breathe.

the world will forget your name, you’ll leave no lasting mark. some of those slithery, slimy things with gills that once were human will occasionally try to pull you back under (after all, you’ll have to periodically wade or do a quick dive for food to survive). and everyone in the water will look at you there on the shore lying lazy in the sun and say, wow, what a waste of human potential.

relax. breathe.

who needs a name?

who needs a name? any name is as good as any other. it’s just as well for me when you can’t remember my first name, and call me by my last name. i’m proud of my last name, but hardly feel like i am special as a renter of it. a name is nothing, and neither is an identity. i take no offense if you can’t remember my name, i am nobody.

in my universe, God and Jesus, Time and Humanity are all that matter. individuals are very special, but they are not names, they are hearts, souls, energies. they aren’t races or sexes or sexual identities. i strive to cut through everyone’s cravings, strivings, playing with luciferian light, and go straight to their own lights. we are lights, and if cultivated properly, our lights would be all we’d ever need.

none of us do. i don’t. it’s easier to scrounge for food, masturbate, ogle women and motorcycles, play with gadgets, surf the web. if i truly took the time to get to know my own light, and stopped fearing it, then did the same with yours, i’d disappear from this universe and meld back with God.

facing the people who got canned

it’s been almost a year since i walked out of ahmis and into the iah. for me, the best year i’ve ever had professionally (the glory of becoming sales guy at ahmis and getting a 25% raise was only four-five months before it turned into a nightmare). aside from the lack of a relationship (unless you count the two weeks lucy came back or the month or so of going nowhere with maria), it was also a great year for me personally. one year ago, i was almost $15K in debt more than i am today. i was two months out from my mother’s passing. i was angry and bitter at ahmis, lucy, the world, God, the devil, man, woman, etc.

walking into the iah, i got a message from the president that this was going to be just like working on a political campaign, minus the crappy politics. everyone there just wanted the community to get better. maybe we weren’t going to change the world, but change in our community was right around the corner. i had a little lingering question in my brain over why he was bothering to mention that some people in the community might question what we are doing, but then thought, well, you can’t please everyone–though it seemed like almost everyone i knew and met liked the iah.

then, my dad told me how much he hated the iah. then, the iah decided to stop supporting everyone’s (including my own) favorite charities. suddenly, it seemed that everyone in the community either still loved the iah because they didn’t read the papers very often, or they hated the iah. then, i realized that very few people put in the kind of extra hours at the iah you’d think they would put in if they were as passionate about their work that they say they are. then, i realized everyone was starting to leave the iah. then, the iah found itself in budgetary hell. gwen lilly, after leaving, told me they messed up the budget every year. i don’t think they typically mess it up like they did this year. bottom line is: burt anton and cesar arroz, my two cube neighbors, are getting canned, and for whatever reason and intrinsic logic that i am not privy to (much like the logic of God and the hierarchy of the Universe and Time), i am staying. five other people are leaving.

at ahmis, i wanted so badly to be a part of management and its machinery. at the iah, i absolutely do not care to. it’s easy to monday morning quarterback a leader’s decisions, and become the world’s biggest bitch of that leader. it’s much harder to stick it out and see if the leader is really just caught up in problems beyond his or her control, and is still a good leader, or if said leader is truly being incompetent.

my most difficult challenge will be facing any of those people who got canned and who decide to come in today. suddenly, the divide between us has widened and deepened, and i am now standing on the other side, along with the upper management, for better or worse. i am no longer one of the little people receiving select communications, to commiserate and gossip with–not that burt anton and i did that much, anyway. but still, you know. the only layoff ahmis ever did the whole time i worked there was one part-time person who’d just been hired on right before they found themselves in a budgetary downturn. yes, i sat out a wage-freeze of under $15 an hour for a year while i busted my ass under a new marketing director named karen winthrop (who got her promotion conveniently a week before the wage freeze), but i never had to really experience front and center the effects of a layoff on an organiztion.

for the iah, this being traditionally their main time of year in the community, this couldn’t come at a worse time–for employee morale, and for any bad press they get while trying to raise money.

my big run.

yesterday evening was going to be my big run. i have discovered that these energy pills mess with my heart. they make my chest chug heavy when i’m needing lightness of breath and beating heart the most. so, i settled for seven miles in an hour. the heat is still kind of on the oppressive side, too.

saw no fewer than three coworkers down there. only one of them i spotted first.

i peed almost clear back home, which made me shout for joy. peeing blood or rich, dark amber is always cause for pause.

i felt pretty much worthless after the run, not tired enough to sleep, but without any physical or mental energy left to do anything but be alone with my thoughts and my pup, lying in bed, considering the nature of my existence.

i thought a lot about love, and how lacking i am of it. i kept thinking about how scared i’ve been to let love just wash on out of me, all attacks on my person and attempts to manipulate me be damned.

i thought, too, about allie stallings, the little five-one lady with the exotic eyes at the iah who i went on one date with, and seemed to scare off. for some reason, when considering the women of the iah from a purely heart-focused perspective, allie’s face pops into my brain a lot. she has days where she looks so hot, and seems to be looking at me when she’s hot. she was distant and inaccessible at the movie we went to, as andrea was, as olive was, as maria has now seemed to become.

what’s up with that? you show interest in a woman, open your heart up a bit, and she runs off. i thought women were looking for sweet guys who had big hearts and wanted long-term committed relationships with high potential to develop into the marriage state. apparently not. maybe all the ones i’m meeting are looking for something shorter and quicker from me.

i thought long about my possible calling to be a healer on this earth. sometimes, it seems to be the only noble path left, assuming you are actually healing people and not just taking their money and tricking their minds for a day. a healer has to be whole, i would think, and not fragmented by those around him, by his sex, by his greed, by his insecurity, by anything at all.

i thought about my miserable state of loneliness that only shows its face when i am depleted of resources, like after a run, at the end of a workday, on a friday or saturday night, in a group of happy, coupled people. i imagined a dozen imaginary girlfriends calling me up to say hello. i dozed off, then was wide awake for two hours, feeling lost, then sick of myself for bothering with feelings.

the morning came with sweet clarity, and i can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to embrace the black, pre-dawn hours.

weekends spent mostly in bed

some weekends, in spite of how boring they will sound to the coffee break crowd, have to be spent mostly in bed sorting things out. i am a very sensitive person, and i have not yet perfected the ability to remain in tune to others in a way that retains my deep empathy and humanity, without being affected by them negatively.

more to the point, my workweeks end with my head and heart full of a lot of bs that i have created based on the input that comes from contact with others.

this particular weekend saw me getting very close to reaching a turning point with some of the more impossible fantasies that build easily inside my head. of all the addictions i’ve had to overcome, the urge to fantasize about a hopelessly golden utopic future seems to be the hardest one of all to kill. i would say that much of the will to masturbate is born not out of buildup of sexual desires so much as it is out of the mind’s quick jumps into fantasy land after being triggered by a sexy image or passage in the news. reading about britons in greece fucking their brains out, and seeing a tiny grainy photo of a chick in a sexy dress throwing herself at a strange man, this sort of thing can throw my brain into a tailspin.

to put it quite simply, my imagination has taken and is still taking years off of my life, and preventing me from being and becoming the man i was meant to be.

the imagination is really everything, the key, the source of misery. the imagination enables me to identify with you, place myself in your plight, and in a quick jump, go beyond empathy and compassion into a realm where i am pitiful. the imagination turns a world full of mostly indifferent people into evil ones bent on wrecking me. the imagination, through a slightly different twist, can turn those same people into minions of fans and worshippers singing my praises. it is the giant mountain between me and humanity, me and God, me and Love, me and Truth, me and me.

sometimes, rarely, i can make the vision spawned by the imagination be so real and clear and hard that i convince someone like a boss to give me something i don’t deserve, or don’t really even want. the vision can send me down the wrong path for years. it might be worse to have lied so easily to myself, but fantasy remains fantasy until you convince someone else it is true.

to make it through a week free of bullshit, now that should be a goal to have. forget about running x miles, painting or writing, or accomplishing tasks to receive the praises of others, how about simply making it through a week free of bullshit?

so this is what it’s like

so this is what it’s like to walk through life alone, without Mother to call for comfort.

so this is what it’s like to be shorn of all the old excuses for why you couldn’t make a friend: you’re a misanthrope, you’re too busy, you’re too full of booze, you’re too shy, you’re too angry, you’re too weird, you’re too normal.

all those things you took comfort in and said you were are gone, and you still scare people off.

so this is what it’s like at thirty-two to know you have no choices left, but to get down to God’s business, and stop pretending that man’s business is the same thing.

so this is what it’s like to try to fantasize again about that imaginary romance you never had in college calling you up out of the blue and wanting to start something up again, and failing to get past the first scene of the fantasy.

or fantasize about going back and reliving a chapter of life.
or fantasize about esther cunningham discovering your work in an important art gallery downtown and falling in love with you because you are deemed important by people that matter.
or, extract and distill: and simply fantasize about being deemed important for no particular reason by people that matter–one reason is as good as the next.

to see the world through non-hierarchical lenses

the very first time i realized that there might be something different about me happened during the first grade, when we’d just moved to missouri, and my new classmates and i were asked to get up, get in line, and go to pe (physical education). i didn’t understand what was happening at first. in the first grade class in colorado, we’d made lines to go places in a very egalitarian fashion, with any given place in the line being as good as another. in this classroom in missouri, i received my first taste of the human drive to be competitive, to be first, to indicate to one’s fellow man that you are above him in a list of importance. i found myself, age six, standing next to last in line with one of the really slow, quiet girls, after getting pushed to the back by both boys and girls who in no uncertain terms let me know that it was not cool to cut once an order had been established by the swiftest and the strongest.

i continued to see the world through non-hierarchical lenses, though, as i clearly remember thinking that the bus driver, my father, my dentist, teachers, the president, my sunday school teacher, etc. were all of pretty much the same importance in terms of how smart they were and what they did for a living. you weren’t any better than the school bus driver if you were a doctor, you just decided you liked being a doctor better, and so you did it. unfortunately for me, i don’t think these lenses were completely removed until i was several years out of college and struggling to make something better of myself out of nothing more than a ba in english (with absolutely zero relEt work experience at internships, and no outstanding papers written and published).

i still don’t completely understand the fascination with a single human being, like all these crazy obama nuts, or the ron paul whackos. what these men are capable of is not even remotely close to what is needed to fix all the problems in the world. seeing obama the first time he came to austin left me feeling like i was watching a man skating on the very thin ice of his carefully crafted veneer. you could see him faltering, stumbling, uncertain, and being a human beneath the deity the rest of the crowd seemed to be caught up in. my public speaking teacher really had it right. it’s not about you, it’s about them. if two people in a crowd of two hundred see you for the sweaty ignoramus that you are, and the remaining 198 see you as God, then you are God in that moment.

for anyone expecting to arrive at conclusions about this reality that approach the Truth, it is useful to consider studying the crowd participating in the magic, the magic itself, the magicians as magicians, the magicians unmasked, and everything that lies between and outside of this. you might perform a reading of history where you take what is written at face value, accepting what was written as the truth. then, you will think yourself clever by realizing that the original recorder of that history had bias and motives for telling it a certain way. but, beyond this, you might also wonder if the plutarchs and plinys were magicians or just literate members of the crowd. the same could be asked of, say, bush, obama or a radio personality.

naturally, you are going to see these “magicians as crowd members” as being participants in something akin to a mlm scheme, a pyramid plan, an illuminati or panopticon-like structure. it’s easy to find examples of many groups in human culture structured this way, and conclude that all that encompasses the Truth is set up similarly. however, you might also wake up one morning to find that your ascent up the pyramid, your travels through the tunnel toward the light, were merely you running toward an infinitely reflected mirror of you.

the Truth is suddenly everywhere, embracing you, moving throughout you, and the anti-Truth, distilled to its most exquisite essence, is simply you chasing your own damn tail.

zero and less would be Hell itself, me lost for eternity to perdition.
one would be me tossed in prison, wrongly accused, and tortured for decades in unimaginable ways.
two would be me tossed in prison, wrongly accused, and tortured for five-ten years in unimaginable ways.
three would be losing almost all ability to control limbs, or limbs themselves, losing most senses, having my face burned off in a horrible car or plane crash, forced to essentially live as a nigh-vegetable, but still of sound mind and able to write shit like this.
four would be losing my sight, or two limbs.
five would be losing a limb, or having my father die on me in the next five years, but otherwise retaining my health and job as is.
six would be losing my job and having to declare bankruptcy, but otherwise retaining my health and my father lives.
seven would be for the next twelve months to go pretty much the same as the last twelve months.
eight would be for the next twelve months to go pretty much the same as the last twelve months, and i start dating someone i can really love, but she’s not smoking hot or my first choice in girlfriends.
nine would be a new and surprising infusion of cash that gets me out of debt (like my paintings suddenly become superultrahipandcool in the art world or someone takes note of an iah video i produced and wants to actually pay me real video production money to create a video or film for them), but i date nobody OR i date a smoking hottie and we fall madly in love with each other, but my financial situation stays the same.
ten would be a surprising infusion of cash, plus the hottie.
in instances nine and ten, my health would also improve with my circumstances, or stay the same, but not get worse in anyway, and no other bad things would happen. such a disclaimer is necessary when dreaming like this or you’ll end up getting everything you asked for in, say ten, as well as four, which would, in my estimation, just be a four.

the smoking hottie would be esther cunningham, a relatively new iah person, who i got to work closely with this morning. she talked at length with me back in june when we had one of our community outreach events, and i thought maybe she was so keen on talking to me for so long because i was wearing reflective sunglasses. esther said she had just bought a house with her boyfriend. she is impossibly out of my league, but if you are going to dream a ten situation, then you should provide a worthy and concrete example, rather than say, scarlet johannson, who is closer to being an entirely imaginary girlfriend. esther is prettier than scarlet, anyway.

esther is taller than the smoking hot second russian from ahmis, blonder, tanner, full of more personal warmth and charisma, possibly more intelligent, has a bigger bust size, and smiles a lot more. she’s the kind of woman you never bothered to dream up because even your wildest fantasies had to have some gritty chunks of realism marbled into them. she isn’t afraid to stand close to you, to talk to you, and she doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable by blasting you with too much intense hottie energy that knocks you out of whack.

beyond such abnormal expectations of my future, though, an eight would be perfectly nice. actually having someone to give love to, beyond my small dog, would be exceptionally wonderful. i could see myself falling in love with maria, who is also very pretty, albeit crazy and sporting two children. maria and her children would definitely be worthy of lots of love, but maria seems reluctant to receive even some of my token expressions of such, like an offer for a shoulder rub, for instance. i mean, you want to love on someone who wants love you know?

so, why haven’t i written more these past ten days? i fancied myself a painter again for awhile. i lost my wireless connection on my linux laptop, so i reinstalled the factory operating system losing all of my modifications, and i still get no wireless detected. i am two steps away from biting the bullet and buying vista. without a means of accessing the internet via wifi, this laptop becomes an overpriced hunk of junk. in short, i haven’t written as much because i lost that delicious capability of publishing any and every thought from the comfort of my bed. now i have to save what i write to my memory stick, and walk thirty feet over to my desktop computer, and upload my writing from there. or, i have to sit at my desktop and write if i want instant gratification in publishing my writing, and that means that i’m prone to waking up my roommate and having him traipse past, sticking his nose all over my screen which faces out toward the living room area.

i’ve thought about writing a lot. i’ve had some clever thoughts in my head this past week, from all the natural energy supplements i took. the rhodiola, in combination with some other natural energy substances, has given me a cleaner, clearer head to work through to the end of the day, and it has also made my dick harder when i masturbate. it’s kind of a shame that i don’t have someone right now to try out my increased potency. i wonder if viagra feels like this.

i’ve ran into and ran past gwen lilly and her sister a few times on the trail in the past week. i haven’t felt especially strong about trying to make any sort of conversation with her, though, as i could clearly see from the last email she sent me before she left the iah that she really didn’t know me all that well, making the same mistake with my name that a lot of people do when they first right me back, and don’t bother to see that all of our email address names are formatted as last name, first name. it’s the same mistake lots of teachers would make calling roll when i was in school, which is to call me by my last name, even though they were able to call every other kid by his or her first name. as someone who worked closely with me on a project, ran with me a couple times, and spoke with me at length at a couple of happy hours, i would have expected gwen to remember my first name well enough not to make that same mistake total strangers do. so, that indicates to me that i left hardly the impression i’d hoped i’d left on her, much the same way i realized when i finally got in touch with my old high school crush, susan parker, and conversed with her briefly via email, that while i might have been kept awake too many nights to count with foolish schoolboy crush fantasies for this girl, to her, i was just another medium-sized, non-descript tree standing in the forest of people she had to navigate to get through her week.

i mean, how do you make a significant, lasting impression on someone so that 1. it’s not negative and 2. the someone you do impress doesn’t turn out to be an energy drain who wants to bleed you for the rest of your life? or, how do you make the right impressions on the right people? this, i have yet to figure out. because, i’ve made more than a few successful, lasting negative impressions, i’m sure. and, i’ve significantly impressed more than a few vampire friends who i’d rather have never noticed me at all. but, i have rarely made a good impression on a person i want to keep around as a friend for a long time to come. partly, it’s because at my core, i am dead boring. i am nobody. i don’t identify myself with my occupation, with my sex, age, race, beliefs, politics, nationality, favorite sports teams, favorite gadgets, etc. other people sometimes do, but i don’t. as much as i’ve written about myself, i can’t think of anything other than Truth, Love, God and his son Jesus Christ, that i wish to identify with at my core of cores. and when i say i identify with Jesus Christ, i mean Jesus Christ, and NOT other christians.

i certainly don’t identify myself with the blob in the mirror, as much as i’ve scrutinized that blob and tried to make sense of it. the giant nose, the acne and acne scars, the big ears sticking out, the thinning, graying hair, the penetrating, questioning blue eyes that seem to set people off so easily, the weak chin, the full lips and nigh perfect teeth–all of that is just an aggregate of DNA, as much the mirror as the mirror itself.

i also don’t see the point in identifying with other men or women or dead heroes or animals, or anything else, really. what’s the point? i think maybe i’ve identified with my parents too much for my own good, but that’s to be expected since each donated half of his and her dna, and my mom donated about eighty percent of the nurture factor, so naturally, i identify with her a little more.

i think in order to make a lasting impression, you first have to define yourself, and choose who you want to identify with, and how. that gets tiresome, though. i’ve tried. i’ve tried baseball heroes, rock stars, movie stars, politicians, porn stars, athletes, bosses, dead heroes, etc. you pick a category, find the very best at that category, and seek to emulate them. tony robbins calls it modeling of behavior. you wake up one morning and wonder who the hell you are, far adrift from anything that feels like you.

is it so wrong to want to stay pure of identifying with other entities and stuff?