Enlightening Nonsense

Tonight I was walking with Abandon in Central Park and when we came to my tree friend, I laid against him and looked up through his dangling leafy vines at the sky above. It was quiet tonight and my tree friend helped me to find and tune into the same stillness that resides inside of me.

Most nights I meet him to share a breath and stillness. I prefer that we are alone but since I don’t have the kind of money that Mayor Bloomberg has, I cannot buy Central Park or rent it for myself for the night—or an election for that matter—and so I accept that the occasional passerby will mosey on along while we are in communion.

While I was standing against my tree friend tonight, a slight man with short hair and glasses started to walk by us…and then he just stopped and stared. I continued to keep my gaze up towards the sky but his gawking lasted way too long for comfort and when he sat on the bench nearby I knew he was soliciting something more than a moment of peace.

I turned to face my tree friend, we shared a breath and I said goodbye until we meet again, probably tomorrow. I walked by the slight man with the short hair and glasses and walked about fifty feet away, I paused at the second stop where I usually stand still on this walk, facing the lake with the reflections of the building lights on the water’s surface, one of my favorite spots in the park. I found myself being drawn into the expansive stillness of the water. I called Abandon over and had her sit by me so I could keep her in the vicinity and not pull my focus as she wanders off and hassles the raccoons…and just stand and be present.

I heard a sound behind me and could sense that the slight man with the short hair and glasses was now sitting on the bench behind me. I stood for a bit more and then I turned and faced him.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said.

“Okay,” came his answer, pausing slightly longer than one would expect before answering a simple question like that, probably because he hadn’t expected that this human tree would be conversing, the same way that most close their ears to tree people, not expecting that they, too, have a lot to say if we are open to listen.

“When I was standing against the tree, did you find it interesting?” I asked calmly yet firmly, my stare fixed on him unmoving, like a hunter’s scope on an animal he is about to blow to kingdom come for sport.

He awkwardly paused and stumbled and then finally said, “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t ask what you ‘knew,’ I asked what you ‘thought,’” was my reply.

He looked like he was unable to formulate the words in his mind but I knew this was because he was not prepared to be answering questions, perhaps because his school days were long behind him. Or perhaps because it was 11:45 at night and dark in Central Park.

He stood there silent like a dummy and so I calmly yet firmly repeated my question, “Did you find it interesting that I was standing against the tree?”

“Well, uh, you were meditating against the tree.”

“I didn’t ask you what I was doing, I asked if you thought it was interesting?” I said firmly, keeping him on point.

Again more searching, as if the “correct” answer was hiding in some recess of his mind somewhere behind a rock, and finally he answered, “It didn’t really affect me.”

“Then why did you stop and stare at me?” I pursued.

No answer.

“Did you find it interesting?” Again more stumbling and then he answered again that it didn’t really do anything for him either way. “Is it possible that if I were ‘meditating,’ as you said, that having someone stand 15-feet away and staring at me could distract me and possibly pull me out of the relaxed state I was in?”

“I don’t know,” he responded.

“I didn’t ask you what you ‘knew,’ I asked you is it possible,” I said.

After much seeming deliberation in his head he said, “That would be an individual matter for each person.”

“I didn’t ask you for philosophy, I asked you is it possible?”

Finally he said, “I suppose. I was just walking by and thought it was interesting that you were meditating against the tree,” he said.

“I asked you if you thought it was interesting and you told me it had no affect on you. Now you’re saying it was interesting. Did you find it interesting?” I pushed.

After a slight delay, “Yes.”

“Now why was that so hard to say?”

“I don’t know,” he answered awkwardly.

“Our presence and our actions have an effect others,” I said. “And it is possible that your staring at me from 15-feet away could have disturbed my peace. I want you to think about that.” I continued, “Now let me ask you, after I left the tree and came over here, why did you come move from where you were and sit on the bench 15-feet behind me?”

“The lights are rippling on the water—“

“I didn’t ask you what is going on around us, I asked you why you moved to sit 15-feet behind me.”

“A change of scenery,” he said. I suspected that his answer was false, that he was in fact watching the same “scenery” he was watching in the other location, a location where the were also visible rippling on the water.

“Is it possible that if I was standing against a tree and you stared at me from 15-feet away and then I moved to a different place and you again came 15-feet away and stared at me, that this could have the affect of making me uncomfortable?”

“Nice dog,” he said, like someone would answer the question “Did you eat the last cookie?” with “How about those Mets?”

“Are you uncomfortable answering my question?” No response other than an awkward smile. I repeated even more firmly, doing my best, as much as I despise cowardice, to keep anger out of the equation, “Do you think it’s possible that if I was standing against a tree and you stared at me from 15-feet away and then I moved to a different place and you again came 15-feet away and stared at me, that this may have the affect of making me uncomfortable?”

“It would be an individual response, each person—“

“It’s possible we could go to war with Iran. I’m asking you do you think it’s possible.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s possible,” he finally conceded.

“I want you to think about this before you do a similar action next time,” I said in such a way that it came across not as a request but as a strict reminder.

After a slight pause he got up from the bench and said, “Well, I’m going to continue my walk now.” I was too grounded from tree energy and too expansive from water energy to really feel like condensing myself into people energy and take any pleasure in making him feel more uncomfortable than he already did. So I let him go without another word, holding him with my eyes a little longer. If my stare had made him uncomfortable it was because, while my words had told him to be more mindful of how his actions may affect another person, my eyes were looking inside of him and forcing him to look and see what I did.

The following would have been an interesting continuation of the dialogue:

“Sit the fuck down.” He sits. “I have long hair hanging down to my shoulders and flying freely and am walking in the park barefoot with my dog. Is it possible that I am a tree-hugging hippie?”

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“Is it also possible that I’m a psychotic murderer?”

“I doubt that—“

“IS IT POSSIBLE?”

Nervously he responds, “Yes, it’s possible.”

“Don’t worry, I am a tree-hugging hippie. I just wanted to open you to the possibilities. Is it possible that you are a gay man?”

“Look, I don’t want to answer any more—“

“So is what you’re saying that me putting myself into your space with my questions is making you uncomfortable?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Interesting. Maybe I should have considered that before asking you my questions, although I did ask your permission and you did give it to me. You didn’t extend to me the same courtesy when you decided to invade my space.” I’d conclude, ”Alright, I’m done asking questions. Are you done staring at me?”

“Yes.”

Without moving an inch I’d say, “Goodbye,” and he’d realize that I meant it was time for him to leave and he’d get up and go.

One of my readers has shared with me that he likes it when I write about my confrontational interactions with New York’s “less than” finest. He also voiced to me that’s he’s not so into when I go “deep” into things. I know that if I ended the story here that he’d have a hard-on and could pleasure himself as he saw fit. But I write this story only in part to provide you material in which to pleasure yourself and if the following makes you lose your boner—as the moyle says, “No skin off my penis.”

It was obvious that the slight man with short hair and glasses was a gay man and was less interested in my silence than he was in staring at my ass. It was also obvious that he was like most men, be they gay or straight, that you see staring at a person they find attractive sitting across from them on the subway or elsewhere—too much of a pussy to actually do anything more than gawk at them from afar.

Presently I will go up to a woman who I find attractive and say, “Hi” and introduce myself, which has resulted in everything from cold responses that would cause shrinkage even to a priest in a hot tub with his alter boys to new girlfriends. But there were many times in the past I would follow behind a woman for several blocks like a man who always wanted to be a stalker but just couldn’t commit to the time requirement of such a career choice. It wasn’t until I was pursuing acting that I had so many gay men stare me down and eye me up, that I realized that this is the same discomforting, disrespectful behavior that men do to women with disregard. And so I stopped cold turkey. For the most part; I now limit my “tail gaping” to three blocks before I call off the pursuit.

We see a world filled with wars and famine and pollution and in despair we think, “How can it ever change?” It can’t change by just writing our desire on a piece of paper, folding it thrice and putting it in our Wish Box. But we can and when we change it will follow.

It’s time to step it up, fellas. This kind of unconscious behavior is keeping all of us on the planet down while hurling big, scary exploding things at our neighbors and thinking that the only way out of this mess is by the arrival of a savior, be it Jesus the Christ or Obama the Kenyan. I have news for you, the next messiah is not coming in an individuized human form but will be coming as an expression from within each of us. Organized religion has brainwashed and conditioned their mindless soldiers so well that their brains are bleached and soft and ready to fight anyone who believes in some other Gospel of Moronicy.

“My religion teaches that we should be tolerant of other religions and ideas outside of our religion,” said the religious man piously.

“I don’t agree with that premise,” said the other man.

“Well then you’re an idiot!” said the religious man.

I don’t worry about pissing some people off with the words I use or the way I carry myself or the form in which I choose to teach. I gave up trying to “please all of the people all of the time” at the same time I gave up the Abe Lincoln beard with no moustache look. You can’t worry about disturbing some people because of the style of your fashion or hair or who you choose to hang out with or fuck. But how we carry ourselves will have an impact on how others look at us and how seriously they will take us. And to not acknowledge that our words and actions cannot only affect how others view us but can also directly affect others, either positively or negatively, is just stick-your-head-in-your-ass denial.

I see gay couples who claim they want their relationships to be acknowledged by our government as just as sacred as a straight couple’s relationship and yet they carry on in such an overly in your face, flamboyant fashion to indicate that the only thing that defines a “gay” relationship is that all they think about is sticking their tongue in their partner’s ass and sticking their tongue out at everyone around them.

I’ve seen this all the time in gay plays, where the dialogue and staging is more about telling a story about how being gay means you are a promiscuous sexual compulsive with little care for personal responsibility or anyone else’s feelings, rather than showing deep issues that “serious” relationships—gay or straight—have to deal with. They’re more concerned with showing one of the actor’s cocks then they are with showing a character’s feelings. I guess cock sells tickets better than feelings. That’s why that crappy show “Naked Boys Singing” has been running so long, it’s not because of the jingle of the tunes but the dangle of the tools.

Years ago a gay client of mine asked me if I wanted to join him to check out the Gay Parade. I said sure. And while the float for House of Latex, complete with house music and half-naked men dancing, did have me tapping my toes, within 10-minutes I had my fill of not just semen but the parade, whose message seemed to be saying that a gay person is someone who either dresses in the clothes of the opposite sex, has the need to show how extreme he can be in his gaiety or will suck me off in exchange for a cup of Starbuck’s coffee. I’m not an intolerant redneck idiot but even I was ready to say, “Them there gays needs to be stopped before we all get that there AIDS bug!”

Believe me, I am all for personal liberties and wouldn’t want someone limiting their Authentic Expression because it may affect the sensibilities of someone who was frustrated that they bought a Mocha Latte when they could have gotten a blowjob instead. But is this in-your-face behavior really Authentic Expression or, like “Reality Shows,” far from reality. Can you imagine the impact of a Gay Parade that only contained men and women—gay and straight—proudly holding hands or having their arms around each other, expressing their love for their partner and not just their showmanship for the onlookers? The message that would send to me is that a gay couple is just like a straight couple—boring, plain and not worth fussing over. Instead one Gay Parade and I’m ready to join a militia group and hole myself in a bunker in order to avoid being holed in the bunker!

Think about the slight man with the short hair and glasses in the park tonight. Imagine if I were a 6’1” tall male with long, big hair and a penetrating stare—which I am—and you were a woman alone in the park at 11:30 at night and I came within 15-feet of you and didn’t say anything, just stood and stared. Unless you were a complete whore, you’d probably find that a little creepy. And the message I would be sending out is that I have no respect for your possible discomfort or fears and that I actually think this is okay. What an unconscious prick!

This doesn’t just have to do with gays and “glory holes” and sexual expression. It has to do with all our expressions, from the sour puss on our face to the free advertising we provide some corporate slave master by wearing his company’s logo on our shirt to the African blood diamond we buy for our fiancé because De Beers has convinced us that “Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a diamond.” How can you be satisfied being led around by either a manipulative corporate scumbag who will give you a squeeze only as long as money comes out of your ass when he does so or led by your own genitals who will let you give it a squeeze until something comes out of it? Aren’t you better than that? Can you see how every choice you make is not only impacting those around you as well as the world but is making a statement about how you want to represent yourself?

Perhaps I am talking to myself here. As I am stepping up into my full power, I am seeing the influence my presence and my words can have on others and regardless of whether I think they should be strong enough in Who They Are in order not to be so easily knocked around by my words and actions like a driftwood in the ocean, the fact is they’re not. And my words and actions can come in the form of a tidal wave.

Is it possible that I was planning to come home from my walk in the park with my dog and work on my book instead of purging my frustration and sharing a reflection gained by being forced to deal with unconscious behavior in the midst of my conscious expansion? Is it possible that I was going to try to get to bed early so I could get some sleep and wake up refreshed for my 8:00 a.m. client tomorrow morning, instead of finishing up this piece at after 2:00 a.m.? Is it possible that the slight man with the short hair and glasses didn’t consider any of this when he decided to stare me down and mess up all my plans? Yes, it’s possible.

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REFLECTION:

What kind of impression do you make on others? Is it generally considered a “positive” impression or a “negative” impression? Do you attribute their impression of you to them…or to yourself? What kind of impression do you want to make on others? Are your current actions helping or hurting your efforts? If you cannot honor the needs or feelings of the other person with your interaction, can you walk away without the need to impress yourself on the other?

MEDITATION:

Imagine you entering the space of another person and interacting with them. It could involve dialogue or just be an energetic exchange. Jump inside the other person and imagine how they feel about the interaction. Is that what you either intended or desired?

Imagine yourself reentering the space of the other with your interactive intention and sensitivity more in tune with the other’s feelings. How does that feel? Whether this results in you sharing a laugh or walking away without a word, you will be more in union with the other, whether you feel it or not.