Enlightening Nonsense

I had enjoyed a long ride of free wireless access in both my last apartment and this one but just like at an amusement park, the ride came to an end. Also like at an amusement park, it wasn’t all fun and games but included the occasional man in a trench coat who would tell you he’d like to share a “hotdog” with you, that would break up the monotony of good times; often the connection was spotty and I would find myself unable to connect or the connection so slow that it was chemotherapy painful. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this seemed to parallel my connection with Ogre—at times high-speed but often no signal.

So the other day I took my laptop during my walk with Abandon and went to McDonald’s where they have free wireless connection. I prefer to go to the bench outside and connect but did not get a signal there and so I had to venture inland. I told Abandon to sit outside and she said, “I wouldn’t go in there even if you offered me transfat fries!”

"This won't be the first time you have a load of beef shoved in your mouth!"

As I started to go through the double doors, some shady looking character started eyeing Abandon, mostly admiring that she was sitting there obediently waiting for me. He said to me, “I’m going to test her” to which I responded, “Please don’t. Just leave her alone.” It was my polite way of saying, “Kindly fuck off.” But he didn’t kindly fuck off.

“I’ll just test her to see if she stays,” he pressed on and started to bend down towards her. I shot Abandon a look that said, “If you so much as lick or rub against this prick I am going to bathe you and brush your teeth,” two activities of which she is not too fond. She sent me the mental message, “Dude, I want this guy to fuck off, too!”

“I don’t want you to test her,” I said a little more firmly. He pushed it more and I said, “Look, it’s like she is my baby and you say, ‘I want to play with your baby’ and I say, ‘No, get away from my baby.’ Just leave the baby the fuck alone.”

“If I wanted to take your dog I wouldn’t say anything to you, I would have just grabbed her and started walking.”

Okay, first of all, I wasn’t in the mood to engage with anyone, let alone this guy who was either drunk in the early afternoon or just generally unsavory. Secondly, while I generally have no limits on topics that can be brought to discussion—child molestation, playing with feces, snapping off and selling starving African kids arms and legs as walking sticks for hikers—I am not a big fan of anyone talking about taking or harming my dog. But because I was so not in the mood to engage in conversation at this moment, I spared him the knee-jerk reaction of, “If you walked away with my dog, at minimum I would beat you senseless and at maximum I would kill you.” In reality I would probably just beat him senseless; if he harmed or injured my dog I might kill him.

That fresh from the balls warm, toasty hand.

When I was finally convinced this douche was going to leave Abandon alone, I went into the double doors and he followed me in, continuing to want to engage me in conversation about god knows what. He reached out his hand to shake mine. Now I generally don’t like the situation of being presented with a hand to shake as, first of all, I find the ritual formal nonsense that generally has no heart behind it and, secondly, especially in the case of the unsavory douche, I don’t know if your “warm” handshake is due to the fact that moments earlier you had your hand down your pants juggling your Johnson. Unless I’m in one of my “let’s be hippies and hug” mode, I generally don’t want to touch strangers.

Cowering to conditioning, I shook his hand. He said, “I am a great reader of people. Do you want me to read you?” He was wrong when earlier he guessed “pointer” as the breed of dog Abandon was and I had little faith that he was any better with humans.

“No.”

“Money and Security.”

“What?”

“I’m looking at your laptop and your [computer] bag and the fact that you don’t want to step inside the McDonald’s.” His assessment was that because I have a laptop and cheap computer bag that I’ve got money and that I considered myself too good to walk into McDonald’s; I did but that was not why I wasn’t going inside.

I felt exasperated. “You are so wrong! I am not going in because I am not going to buy anything and I don’t want to just sit down and occupy one of their tables and order nothing. ‘Money’ and ‘Security’? Nigga, please! I am living in this shitty neighborhood because I can barely afford to live in this city, I’m going to McDonald’s to connect to the Internet that my “rich” ass can’t afford to get at home and I’m not sure if I am going to have enough dough to feed myself and my dog—which I don’t want you fuckin’ touching—for the week.”

He relentlessly continued his diatribe and I almost broke down. “What do you want from me? I told you to stay away from my dog and you wouldn’t listen to me—“

“You didn’t say that,” he interjected.

“I most certainly did. And now I just want to be left alone and you won’t do it. Why won’t you leave me alone?” It was as much a plea as a question. He started to talk more nonsense and I repeated, “Why won’t you leave me alone??” less aggressive and more overwhelmingly confused. He finally went in to McDonald’s and left me alone.

As fate would have it, I couldn’t get a friggin’ connection and I actually did go in and find a table and try to connect—with no success—and so I left. When I got outside, Abandon said, “Hey, you should ask that guy you were talking to if he wants to join us on our next nature walk.” My eyes opened wide and she said, “Just kidding. Jees, don’t get your panties in a bunch!” and we left.

As someone who can’t take a drink of water without pondering, “So what is this drink of water sharing with me? That a small vessel can fill me for a moment but true satisfaction cannot come in a container. And isn’t this the very lesson that Jesus was giving the Samaritan woman at the well…?” I had to reflect on this little episode. At first I dismissed it as just another example of the Universe fucking with me. And then I went further…

The "close talker" from Seinfeld. Uh, personal space??

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGVSIkEi3mM

I seem to be a very “in your face” type of person, teacher, douchebag myself. I questioned what gives me the right to get in someone’s face when it seems downright irritating for everyone? Well, I suppose if they come to me for a teaching or class then they are essentially signing the dotted line agreeing to me being in their face and smelling my breath and being irritated not only by my beard but also my demeanor.

But I often seem to offer myself, my opinions, my suggestions when no one friggin’ asks for it. Owl would tell me, “These people are not your disciples” and Ogre would often say, “You’re giving them a lecture they never signed-up for.” And while I may consider myself less unsavory than the “dog tester,” who the heck cares—if you’re annoying and not fucking off, you’re most probably a pest that needs to be swatted.

Again the question, “Why?” Why do I do it? Is there a purpose other than a love for argumentation and irritation? It is hard to fully gage. A part of my dharma does involve stirring the pot and making people taste their own stew of ego and arrogance and ignorance and to really question if this is the diet that they want not only feed to others but to themselves as well. And perhaps the part of my ego that is attached to such noble concepts as “Truth” and “Justice” and “Righteousness” just can’t leave the hell alone and pushes people to work harder who never signed-up for my course and would be just fine taking Being A Slave 101 and receiving a passing grade.

Ogre has voiced many times to me the same message that her last, “Stay away from me…And do no write me any emails. I will not read them” text conveyed and in the past I always ignored them. She once asked me almost jokingly, “So when I say, ‘I don’t want to see you anymore,’ to you does that mean, ‘I’m going to interact with her even more’?”

There are various reasons I do what I do, none of which make any sense. First off, I don’t function like others do and so to expect my responses and actions to be logical is already setting you up for a fall. Even Ogre has acknowledged, “I’ve come to see that I can’t expect your actions to follow what past boyfriends, or ex-s, or stalkers have done.” This is not because I am some anarchist douche whose sole point of existence is to act contrarian. “Go through the red light. Why? Because they don’t want us to!” While I am both an anarchist and a douche individually, I am not an anarchist douche in conjunction. I just don’t roll like others roll.

Secondly, while sometimes my ego may just want to “win” an argument, there is a part of me that sees every interaction as a possibility of two people coming to a better understanding, either of the world, their interaction with each other or of themselves as individuals. I like to believe that someone who throws his garbage on the street if asked about it in a loving way may come to the conclusion, “You know, I never really thought about it, it’s just something I have always done. I will give it some more thought.” Or if someone is asked in a loving way, “Do you mind leaving me alone right now as I’m not in the mood for interaction with anyone at the moment,” that they will kindly fuck off.

I would like to believe this fantasy but this is not usually what happens. Usually what happens is the littering idiot will say, “Mind your own fuckin’ business!” and the pestering douche won’t stop bugging you. Einstein said that insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result and yet I seem to continue to do the same thing and hope for some miraculous transformation. “Hi, Bellevue? Do you have room for one more?” Perhaps the missing link is that I am not always “loving” but judging.

I couldn’t stand how Ogre and I degraded to such a low when we were in a disconnect. We could go from feeling bonded in bodies making love, to walking holding hands feeling like great friends, to yelling and screaming with such vitriolic poison that neither one of us would leave the situation uninjured.

I honestly believed that if we stayed in “love” that we could work through any and all nonsense, but insecurities and a breakdown of communication led to a build-up of resentment on both sides and we couldn’t find the “different action” to lead us to a different result, which only resulted in us continuing to surf the shark-infested waves of insanity. And after enough bad wipe-outs, Ogre had enough of surfing and even my “Dances With Sharks” self was getting a little tired of coming to shore with pieces of my ass chewed off.

Ogre told me to “kindly fuck off” on many occasions and I never did. Maybe it was because the sex was so great. But I also think there was an internal drive, not just selfishly motivated but with a desire for her growth as well as my own, to purge ourselves of the NONSENSE that was keeping us from living in love—even if this involved not loving each other.

Reminds one of the terrorist snuff videos I have seen only murdering chickens is "cool" at the moment.

No matter who the chef, the ingredients in the Stew of Nonsense are:

INSECURITY

FEAR

EGO and

OLD PATTERNING

Sure it may be seasoned to individual tastes but the main ingredients are almost always the same; sometimes cilantro is added. And while the health food “experts” talk about the Standard American Diet (S.A.D.) being one that fosters disease, the Standard American Spiritual Stew Yapping (S.A.S.S.Y.) also causes dis-ease but of the soul. And having a diseased soul is like having a beautiful shell of a racecar without any engine—it looks great but it can’t hit the speeds of which a fully integrated racecar is capable. And then it will be subject to “the hills and arrows of outrageous fortune” in order to provide it any movement and one won’t be able to fully enjoy even rolling down the biggest of hills, as the lingering thought in the mind will always be the keen awareness that, “This, too, must end.”

I'm reminded of when Sister Ignanimous kicked me out of Catholic school. I think her last words to me were, "Get out of here, you fuckin' Jew!" I learned forgiveness from the Christians. I forgave her for being a fuckin' bitch!

It was six days ago that Ogre told me to kindly fuck off, in perhaps a less “kindly” fashion than I would have preferred. And, for the moment, I have kindly fucked off, avoiding any and all contact with her. She sent me her “Fuck off. And that’s my final answer, Regis” text on a Thursday. I saw that on Saturday there was a special Zouk Latin-influenced dance lesson and party that I thought Ogre and I would have fun at, especially since she had mentioned wanting to explore some partner dance with me, and I had to fight my “insanity” to call or text and say, “Hey, you want to go dancing on Saturday?”

A part of me thinks it’s cool that I can be, even mildly, so in the NOW at times that, for a moment, I forget all the hurt and anger that I have felt as well as she, and see nothing but, “Hey, this could be fun for us!” But as Jesus said in the Essene Gospel Of Peace:

“When a man was a child he spoke as a child, understood as a child, thought as a child; but when he became a man he put away childish things.”

So while I have enjoyed the serenity of not having Ogre call me a hypocrite and a phony and an overall jerk and express her constant disappointment in me over the last week, I would be lying if I didn’t say that each day I wish the phone would ring with the lion roaring “Savanna” ringtone I set for her and she would just tell me that she loves me, she misses me, she wants to see me and that it’ll all work out okay. It probably won’t all work out okay but sometimes even a lie is more loving than the truth.

I'm still at the delusionary state of "WRITER." I'm hoping my "?????" is PORN STAR. Or maybe CORPSE.

So according to Einstein I am insane. And according to Jesus I am childish. I would like to find my sanity and grow up and maybe along the way find peace of mind as well; I’ve pretty much given up on love. And maybe then I can walk among geniuses and messiahs and not look or feel out of place.

I believe the best way to be of service to others is to serve yourself in order to become the best you that you can be. But in the meantime, while you’re a less than ideal version of yourself, unless you are a cavesitter, you still have to interact with others in your suboptimal vehicle.

Perhaps real change only comes through great discomfort and it is my curse as an instrument of transformation that I will bug the shit out of everyone with whom I interact, never experience committed love with another and always be alone. If I were Jesus I might beg God to “Take this cup away from me” and when he doesn’t back down say, “Fine, I’ll take your damn cup! But it doesn’t match anything in my collection and it is really going to look out of place at the next Sabbath dinner!” But I’m not Jesus. I’m just a guy who wants to know his Self…and maybe love a girl as well.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RESwG23_YGw

REFLECTION:

What do you think your dharma, or your “soul’s purpose,” is in this incarnation? Do you think your soul came into a body in order to make as much money as it could? Or it came in to just have a good time? I wouldn’t start to tell you what your soul’s purpose is (unless I met you on the sidewalk, in which case I would probably sign you up for my “Lecture Of The Day” series J) but I’m guessing it is something that, while it may include having a good time, is not limited to just that. Explore.

Reflect on your interactions with others. How many of these interactions in general with people and specifically regarding individual conversations, discussions, arguments, actions, etc. are a clear reflection of your soul purpose. Maybe when your soul purpose becomes your “sole” purpose, you will be living enlightenment and everything will flow as it should.

MEDITATION:

When you wake up in the morning, before moving a single muscle, imagine that your soul enters your body with full awareness and has decided to “test drive” your body for the day. Go through your day and with each interaction let your soul be the driver of your actions and responses—and not your small self.

There are several Eastern teaching stories, some fables and some supposedly real, that involve a god or a great sage entering either an animal or another person and getting caught up in the delusion, the illusion, that he is something that he is not. It is not until other gods or disciples come to remind him of Who He Is that he wakes up from his amnesia and resumes his full awareness.

Perhaps all of us are subject to the same amnesia. What will it take to remember Who You Are?