Archaic Revival: a meandering path towards becoming a conscious human being

True to form, it’s been a long time since I last wrote about my personal life, and a great deal has happened. Since I first introduced my attraction to Rosie W, I’ve decided to travel to Amsterdam for Dopestock, an annual 4/20 event celebrated by fans and producers at Dopefiend.co.uk.

This is very, very exciting as I’ve never been to Europe, and Amsterdam is such a famous and historic place. I took A.P. European history in high school, nearly 30 years ago, and Amsterdam and the low countries figured quite prominently in my imagination.

But even more amazing, has been the evolution of my friendship with Rosie W. When she heard I would be in Amsterdam, she suggested that it might be a nice place for us to meet, given it’s close proximity to her home in London. Intriguing thought, that… She suggested this even before she returned from India, and since then the enthusiasm has been building for both of us. Not just with the prospect of meeting, but also in the here/now sense of our friendship. It’s been a real journey of self-discovery.

So we will meet in Amsterdam in less than a week, and spend six days there together. Then she returns to London and I’ll head off to Germany to visit an old friend I used to know in Seattle who returned home to Nuremberg almost 10 years ago. Then a week later I will spend a week with Rosie at her home in London. All this without ever meeting. It’s scary, and exhilarating at the same time. Our friendship is so beautiful, and I cannot imagine that part of it changing. But the story of how we will be together with each other as people, as incarnate beings…this is the chapter that is next to be written.

No matter what happens, it has been, and continues to be, an amazing adventure.

Those who know me are aware of my whimsical obsessiveness, by which I mean I tend to get really interested in something for a time, to the point of obsession, and then I lose interest and move onto the next preoccupation. I used to lament this aspect of my persona because it often results in my being a bit of a dabbler in many things, not quite a “Jack of all Trades,” but most certainly a “Master of None.” But lately I’m just trying to roll with it, and accept myself just as I am.

One of my cyclic, repeated obsessions has been the didgeridoo. My first encounter with a didgeridoo was a personal one. I was a student at the University of California in 1980 when I came upon a guy on campus, sitting on the ground, “playing” a long hollow “tree branch.” He was an Australian veteran of the Vietnam War where he lost his right arm. He held the instrument to his mouth with a prosthetic limb while he made little gestures with his left hand in time with the music. He called the instrument a yidaki, but said white people called it a “didgeridoo.” He explained that he was “circular breathing” such that he could maintain a continuous tone and still take breaths through his nose. I was fascinated. I was hooked.

Eventually the didgeridoo began to makes its presence felt in popular culture, and wherever I recognized it, I would stop and take notice. I even began to collect some didgeridoo music when it became available. But the instrument always remained a “mystery” for me, something other worldly and quite unattainable. That is, until I heard some young fellas making very didgeridoo-like sounds with white plastic tubes at Seattle’s Victor Steinbrueck Park, just to the north of Pike Place Market sometime in 1999. I didn’t follow up on this discovery right then, but suddenly the prospect of playing the didgeridoo no longer seemed so “unattainable.”

It wasn’t until I returned to the States after living in Mexico for six months in 2000 that I began to pursue the didge with some measure of resolve. I was delighted to learn that there was a rather vigorous and informative community of didge players and craftspeople online. By early 2001 I made my first PVC didgeridoos and started teaching myself to play. Within a month or so I learned how to circular breathe. And a few months later I made my first bamboo instruments.

And then I sort of…lost interest. But every so often I’d get back into it, usually making or buying a new instrument or two before my interest faded again. There have been several “cycles” or rising and falling interest since then, but during all these years I never kicked down the serious ducats required to buy an “authentic” Australian instrument made of eucalyptus. So last November I decided that I would spend the money and buy one as an early birthday present for myself. It is a beautiful instrument made by Jarold Appo of Naiuwa Art, a family-owned didgeridoo craft business in Northern Australia. They gave their instruments names and mine is called The Lure of the Underflow:

I bought it from LA Outback, and while I’ve had pretty good luck with them myself as a customer, I’ve heard that they are not always the easiest to work with for suppliers or craftspeople. It’s a very deep instrument in the key of C, and with a wonderfully complex set of harmonics that is lacking in my bamboo didges. As you can see, it is also a beautiful work of art.

Being on a bit of a “didgeridoo roll” I got it in my head that I wanted an instrument made of yucca or agave, after seeing several beautiful examples on both the LA Outbook and The Didgeridoo Store websites. Unfortunately, all the instruments I was interested were marked “sold”on both websites. So I started looking around online and I found David Blonski’s website. I recognized David’s name as he is quite a talented didge player and I have some of his music on CD. I didn’t realize he made instruments as well. He didn’t have many available as it is “off season” for him, but I did find a nice yucca in the key of F that was available, so I called him to order it. I ended up chatting with him for about half an hour–he’s a really great guy. In fact, I mentioned a buddy of mine who is a very expressive player, but who has yet to master circular breathing. David shared that he played the didge for almost 18 months before he learned to do it. David’s instrument was not only well-crafted, but came with a beautiful custom carrying case crafted out of upholstery fabric by his talented wife. Here’s a picture of the horn itself:

As an F, it is much higher-pitched than what I’m used to playing and requires a certain approach. But this is really true for each and every didgeridoo, and part of the value of having several instruments is that learning to play them makes one a much more versatile player on any one of them. One of the nicest things about a yucca didge is that it is so lightweight.

Finally…still being on a roll two months later, I got it in my head that I “needed” a new didge in the key of D, which might just turn out to be my favorite key for this instrument. The two sites I mentioned still had all the same instruments marked as “sold” as the last time I checked, so I decided to check out Marko Johnson’s pages. Marko is somewhat famous for inventing the “didjbox.” I bought several versions of these last year, both for myself and as gifts, and found Marko a real pleasure to do business with. I recalled that he made “premium quality” didgeridoos out of leather (yes…leather!) so I checked to see if he had anything in D. Turned out that he did, a really beautiful looking and sounding didge, which is currently my favorite one to play:

As I’m getting ready to travel, I wish I had a hard case to take at least one of these beautiful sticks with me. Instead, I’ll be traveling with a couple plastic didjboxes as gifts, and maybe my Traveler Cedar didjbox. Lovely!

I’m currently feeling poised around the feeling that a crush I’ve had on someone who until a few days ago seemed rather fond of me is about to meet with a very rude awakening. I have no real evidence for this, except that her communication has suddenly stopped, but there is evidence that she has been online for the now two full days, nearly three of zero word from her. The fact that I’m feeling uneasy about this at all is proof enough that I’m out-of-balance with this person and that I need to take a reality check and give it a good going over.

It’s odd that one can feel this way about someone one has never met and might never meet. It’s shocking that one would allow oneself to get into this state after having years of experience, mostly not-so-great, with “internet dating” and its many pitfalls. Am I that lonely?

Of course, there are all the many justifications:

I decided to do something extra special for myself this year and splurge a little big on my birthday. No, it’s not a RealDoll. Nice idea, though. Nope it’s something a little more sublime:

Pretty cool, hmm?

I ordered it online from LA Outback, with whom I’ve had a good experience before. Some would argue buying through the Internet is not the way to order a musical instrument. I’ve already blown that rule as most every instrument I have save my shakuhachi, bansuri, kena, zampoño, and African Djembe were all ordered online–including my guitar.

Anyhow, it is due to arrive sometime today via UPS and I am trying to temper my excitement–and be ready to be disappointed in some way. Not in a catastrophic way–like the thing will be cracked. But maybe I won’t like the sound immediately, or the size, or the possibility that I’m going to have to monkey with making the mouthpiece, or that I may have been double-billed for shipping. All of these things are fixable.

It’s just that I expect it to be amazing and there is some slight fear that I will be underwhelmed. So I’m trying not to think too much about it, and am doing pretty well so far.

Hopefully it will be delivered by the regular UPS guy. He’s a very nice chap and we’ve enjoyed many a brief pleasantry over the years. Usually it’s something about the weather. Anyhow, I flashed on how nice it would be to give him something, so I rushed online and ordered an Amazon gift certificate and enclosed it in a little thank you card from a set originally intended to thank peopled for their kindness around the death of my father last July. But I never made any use of them (’cause I’m a putz).

Actually, I’ve done my ‘thankyous’ in other ways–like I ordered a couple dessert trays to be delivered to my client in Austin. They have been so good to me over the years and were kind enough to send me cards for both my recent surgery and the passing of my father. For me, a card back wouldn’t have been enough. So something sweet for their sweetness.

Anyhow, I hope the UPS guy is the right guy and that he’ll enjoy the gift certificate once he gets it.

I’m sure I’ll report back on the new didj…

A Ho!

On October 17, 2006 a 13 year old girl took her own life after being jilted by a MySpace friend that she had become emotionally-involved with. Her name was Megan Meier, and the Internet news services are buzzing with the story. Megan had experienced troubles with depression and attention deficit disorder, as well as weight issues for several years. When she met a 16 year old boy on MySpace named Josh Evans, things were looking up for Megan. She was losing weight, was more active in school, and finally met someone who really seemed to like her, and for her, he was good looking and liked the way she looked also. However, a couple days before she took her own life, Josh’s tone changed dramatically. He claimed that he was having doubts about their friendship because he heard that she doesn’t treat her friends very well. The messages became increasingly hurtful. Megan didn’t understand why this was happening and it upset her greatly. It didn’t help that her mother got upset with her for some coarse language she used to respond to Josh’s hurtful messages. Megan felt her mother wasn’t supporting her enough in the conflict with her MySpace boyfriend that had turned against her. Twenty minutes after their argument, Megan had not come down from her room for dinner. Her father went to check on her and found her hanging by the neck in her closet. She was pronounced dead the following day.

Whether this tragedy could have been avoided is currently subject of much debate. Megan Meier clearly had some emotional problems. Teens get jilted all the time by love interests, and most get through it without committing suicide. Ultimately, Megan made the choice to take her own life.

But this is not the whole story.

It turns out that “Josh Evans” never existed. He was a fictional person created by the mother of a former playmate, a neighbor who lived down the street. This person’s name is Lori Drew. She claims that she created the account to gain Megan’s confidence to find out what Megan was saying about her daughter online, and that she had no intention of harassing Megan to the point of killing herself. As of this date, December 4, 2007, Lori Drew has not apologized for what some refer to as cyber-bullying, and as there was no law covering such a crime at the time during which it occurred, it looks like Lori Drew will not be charged with anything.

But where the law has failed Megan Meier, the outraged blogosphere has stepped in. Rightly or wrongly, Lori Drew’s name is “Mudd” on the Internet these days. Her photo, telephone and cellphone numbers, home address, husband’s work address, etc. have been published by enterprising bloggers advocating vigilante justice (most seem to demand an apology, but a few want blood). There is recent news that the Drews have pulled their daughter out of school, closed their business, and left town.

Yesterday, December 3rd, the Prosecutor for St. Charles County (Missouri), Jack Banas, announced that no charges would be filed against Lori Drew for the “hoax” she perpetrated against Megan Meier. Many were outraged by this decision, claiming that Drew must have friends in high places, etc.

On top of all this, a blog appeared after Megan’s suicide called Megan Had It Coming. Many believe that this blog was created by Lori Drew, although it seems like the stupidest thing she could do. Until the announcement that charges would not be filed, the person running the blog claimed to be “Kristen”. However, yesterday a new post appeared titled I’m Lori Drew. So far i’ve seen no conclusive proof that ties Lori Drew to this blog, so it may well be a hoax itself. If it turns out to be Lori Drew, she is not only a sociopath (IMHO), but reckless. You’ll have to read it, and the comments, to see what I mean.

I must be a sick puppy myself because I spent more than an hour yesterday researching this story and reading the aforementioned blog presumably by Lori Drew (but without any proof thus far).

And now I’m furthering the madness by spreading the news.

So let me offer a few thoughts of my own.

None of us can know what was really going on with Megan Meier when she decided to kill herself. At 13 years of age, did she even know what she was doing? Was it the clichéd “cry for help” many suicide attempts are claimed to be? She did it at home when her parents were there. Did she hope she would be found in time? We will never know.

What responsibility do others have in this, not just Lori Drew and those who helped with the “hoax,” but also Megan Meier’s own parents? Her mother blames herself, which may have contributed to the divorce that followed their daughter’s death. Some think that the parents are responsible because they let their 13 year old daughter have an online “boyfriend.”  Others argue that they monitored their daughter’s online activity and felt the boyfriend had boosted Megan’s self-esteem greatly during the time before things got ugly.

Are there truly no laws that would apply in this case? Something seems amiss here. There are plans for a civil suit against the Drews in the works, and in time other evidence may come to light that may re-open the possibility of criminal charges.

Again, without knowing whether the person posing as “Lori Drew” on Megan Had It Coming truly is Lori Drew, I cannot fairly draw any conclusions to “her” arguments there. If it is her, she hasn’t been doing a very good job at defending her behavior. Worse, some of it is much more incriminating than the reported statements she gave to the FBI and police. I seriously doubt that Lori Drew’s lawyer would permit her to run such a blog under these circumstances.

Whenever I start to feel outraged about things we humans do to each other, I try to remember that we are all one–that we are all capable of ignorant, unskilled behaviors, and if we would be better off being loving and compassionate with “evil people” than falling into a knee-jerk pattern of hating or despising them. That’s too easy. It’s better to learn from these incidents and to examine our own lives to make sure we are living conscious, loving lives in light of what disturbs us in others. Let’s not use the bad actions of others to prop ourselves up as superior, without first looking into our own behaviors and striving to improve how we are living. Let’s not live our lives as if we’re in the audience of the Jerry Springer show.

I’m trying not to hate Lori Drew, and it’s a bit of a challenge. But I’m trying.

Technorati Tags: Lori Drew, Megan Meier

You’ve probably read stories in magazines, newspapers, or online, or even seen stories on television about high school sweethearts re-uniting forty years later, often after spending half a lifetime or more with other people, then losing them through death or divorce. These reconnections often occurred by chance, or more frequently at high school reunions. But with the Internet, people can often locate former objects of desire or admiration with a simple search engine.

That is, if the person still goes by the name you remember. Women often change their names through marriage, and a few people change their names for other reasons. Jay Everett Zupke is one of these people, it seems. For years I expected to find out something about him via the Internet, but curiously whatever I did find led to dead ends.

I happened to know that he connected with a guru from India in the early 80s and was using a different name exclusively by the early 90s, just when the Web was getting off the ground. So, there is virtually no record of him online up to now. I know that he is alive and well, living in the United States, and last time I checked, was not married.

If anyone needs to reach him, I have a pretty good idea on where to find him. Please send your inquiries to Xochipilli2012 [[[at]]] gmail [[[dot]]] com and I’ll do my best to forward it on to him.

Blessings!

A week or so ago I shared something on my Tribe.net blog about a friend of mine named Cynthia around a recent challenge to our friendship. She offered me some advice or ‘correction’ in the form of an email, which I pasted into the second comment to the post above, and my first reaction was that it was full of New Age clap-trap, and not worthy of much further consideration. But given that she did reference one of my more famous negative character traits–self-deprecation (or self-hatred), I thought I would follow up on that point.

I went back to Iowa where my father was from for the first time in nearly 30 years last weekend for his memorial service. I met with cousins and their families for the first time in as many years during the visit. One thing I found myself doing was apologizing for not being in better touch with them all, as if the separation or what-have-you was my, and only my responsibility. Most reassured me that there was nothing to apologize for, and that the most important thing was that I was there now, honoring the memory of my father. Yet, even with these reassurances I often felt awkward and unworthy. One cousin who wasn’t there has been in a detention facility for the past couple years–I have never contacted him once. His sister was in a car crash a few years ago and left paralyzed from the waist down. I saw her for the first time last Sunday–and realized I never sent her any condolences for her accident, or checked in to see how she was doing.

The same could be said for most of my family in Iowa. It’s as if I just couldn’t care less, and for a long time, this seemed to be true. But having just spent some time with some of them, I have a different perspective now. Everything I have learned on my journey towards self-discovery, self-mastery, or perhaps best, ‘awakening,’ is that my point of power is in the present. Jane Roberts in the guise of Seth taught me that years ago, and it seems just as true today. But I don’t often live that way.

I seem to enjoy feeling badly about myself, re-examining past events to see how badly I fucked them up and imagine how I could have done better…when there is no time machine available to take me back to do better. It’s silly. And I seem addicted to it.

While everyone can forgive me my missteps over the past few days given what was happening, I keep finding all sorts of reasons to feel badly about how things went for me. I feel bad that I didn’t take more pictures, that I didn’t make more of an effort to have conversations with a few more cousins, and the latest one, my regrets over my behavior at my dad’s memorial service on Sunday. I was very emotional, much more so than I had anticipated. Being there in the church where I believe he had been baptized and confirmed, made things all the more intense. I was lost in myself and my selfishness. Again, some would say that I was entitled to that, having just lost my father. But I now imagine that I could have done better. I could have made more of an effort to talk to a variety of persons at the reception following the service. A couple cousins I really liked when I was a kid were there, and I didn’t talk to them at all beyond an initial hug hello.

When it came time to exit the service, prior to the reception, I was so lost in myself and my sadness that I just sort of started at the floor as I walked out, rather than meeting people with my eyes and acknowledging their gazes of love and sympathy. I had a totally selfish moment there. And to prove I could make matters worse, I thought that it could have been beautiful to salute them in a namaste gesture, which would bridge the gap between my religion and theirs. But I didn’t even think of it at the time. Only a couple days later. And the memory or the imagining of a better way to have done it probably goes to Ego as well…that I need to be respected and/or acknowledged for my differing believe structure, and that too is somewhat fallacious.

Whenever I talked to a cousin, aunt, or uncle, I found myself not only apologizing, but putting myself down. I could never just stand up and be proud to be who I am. When I tried to share that I was doing the best I could, given that have a reality map that strongly differs from those of most of my cousins, it came out as if I didn’t know what the fuck I was into, and whatever it was, was pretty weak. I couldn’t even reduce it to a fundamental truth that I try to live by which is to love unconditionally. I just felt like such an idiot for most of the time, especially when at the church.

Later, we visiting with one of my cousins and some of his family. One of his granddaughters was celebrating her first birthday, and he invited everyone to come over. My brothers, mom, and I were at the Church until it was time to lock it up. We were practically the last ones there. I was tired of wearing bad-fitting shoes and a thrift-store suit, but it was great to get over to my cousin’s place and get a bit out of my self-pity and self-centeredness. It was great seeing my cousins and their families. Two of my second-cousins in particular really brightened my mood. But, leave it to me to put myself under a ‘dark cloud’ about that comparative ’success’ because I later regretted not taking a single photo while I was over there. I just didn’t think of it at the time. And, just for kicks, take another look at the sentence before this one. The first part illustrates the very thing my ex-gf Cynthia was complaining commenting about–my tendency to put myself down. Sweet!

I suppose I should feel good about the fact that I made it out there at all, as I wasn’t planning to go initially. I had such bad vibes about being in Iowa. There were fun times there, to be sure. But my last visit had some bad associations to it–I had gotten into a disagreement with my grandmother and one of my uncles that got a bit ugly. My grandmother slapped me in the face, and my uncle chewed me out for being a self-pitying little fuck (which he was sort of right about–didn’t really matter that I was only 16 at the time). The two boy cousins close to my age would always ‘gang up’ on me, so I never really bonded with them. Seeing one of them this time was nice–he’s looking really good, has a beautiful wife and handsome children. But I couldn’t help comparing myself to him as I often did when I was younger, and come out feeling less than adequate. Weird. And the worst part about my last trip to Iowa was the way my father seemed to abandon me and my brothers by making his second wife and fulfilling her capricious desires his top priority, a pattern that seemed to continue with his third and final wife.

It was as if I blamed my Iowa family for my fucked up life from that point on, which was bullshit on several fronts. My life hasn’t really been all that ‘fucked up.’ It’s been really good, as a matter of fact. Despite my being confused about what I should be doing for much of the time, and my being alone (when I think I might really enjoy being in a relationship again), I tend to be pretty ‘happy.’ But despite these facts, I have carried some resentment around ‘Iowa’ for many years. I would say ‘These people don’t know me, and if they did, they wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.’ This may or not be true, but I wasn’t even giving them a chance to know me. I was just projecting my own negative and limited views based on my weird-assed childhood onto a bunch of people that had been growing and evolving all these intervening years. And I wasn’t privy to most any of it.

I found my Iowa relatives to be, by and large, amazing! Warm, welcoming, loving, and several of them very genuinely interested in knowing more about who I was and what my life was like. I didn’t really get into much of that with any of them because where exactly does one begin that sort of conversation? Do I tell them about Osho and why I changed my name? None of them asked me about that, though a few struggled with my new name and would usually revert to my old one, the one they new from my childhood. Do I share my political views and my anti-Bush, anti-Iraq War, anti-so-called-war-on-terror viewpoints? Especially when several are in, have been in, or have children serving in the US military? Do I tell them about the beauty and insights I have experienced through the use of various illegal drugs, particularly marijuana, psilocybin mushrooms, and MDMA, when they are living in a culture that directly references such things as “tools of the Devil?”

It didn’t feel like the time or place for any of that. And in a way, none of that shit mattered at the time anyway. They were giving me a kind of ’special dispensation’ because our father had just passed away. Perhaps it didn’t depend on that; there’s no way to know for certain.

Even as I write this I become a little self-conscious because some of them have taken a few steps into my online world, and with enough persistence, they will discover everything as it is all connected at some point. I welcome them, to be sure, but I know for a fact that a few of them would be very uncomfortable hearing some of what I have to say. And while I thought it was a kind of ‘badge of integrity’ to stick to my guns about things, even when I knew they offended people, I no longer feel quite so confident about that–or maybe I’m just more sensitive and prefer not to hurt people if that can be avoided. I would love for people to love me as I am, and not have to hide anything from them. I can mostly do this with my immediate family, my brothers and my mother. Maybe with others in the future as well, but better not to force that on anyone.

I am getting antsy about finishing this little screed, so I will return to my starting theme. Was Cynthia right about me? I think she was insofar as the fact that I definitely do display a lack of self-confidence at times which results in some self-deprecating talk. But I don’t know if I even understand all the stuff she was saying about being a “stand’ for whatever. Not to mention what it means to hold a person to “their Highest Self,” as she would wish to be held. Because according to how I read her, whenever anyone is not acting as their “Highest Self” the best thing to do is abandon or shun them. She doesn’t really explain how that helps–it almost seems like a ‘punishment’ or taking away someone’s toys. She didn’t explicitly state this–except that this had something to do with why should took a ‘time out’ in our communication. And then later she speaks of letting people go who were not a “stand” for themselves at this “level” and that she would be “out of integrity” with her Self and my “True Self” if she continued to engage with me when I’m not acting as my “Highest Self.”

As I re-read this communication from her, it seems to become more and more clear that she has dumped me as a friend, because I’m not functioning at a high enough psychic level for her. So now I’m thinking that, Fuck No! She’s not “right” about me at all, because she seems to be living in a dream world created by her indoctrination within Landmark Education. (That’s where some of her jargon comes from–particularly taking a “stand” I recently learned.

It’s ironic, in a way. Cynthia seems to regard me as ‘not on her level’ and I have often felt the same about her, that I should be connecting with someone more open, honest, and clear about who they are, and how their conditioning can play a role in challenging a friendship. I’ve never heard Cynthia ever acknowledge that she has stuff from her past that comes into play in this regard. I just realized this. She must believe it exists on some level, because Landmark focuses a lot on getting free of that stuff. They refer to conditioned negative behaviors as “rackets.” But, I’ve never known Cynthia, pre or post Landmark to ever admit that she has had to deal with any of this stuff with respect to any of her relationships–whether with me or anyone else. This is interesting to reflect on.

Cynthia was right in the sense that she was doing what was right for her–ending her friendship with me because it wasn’t serving her ‘higher purpose’ perhaps. And the observation that I do put myself down under certain circumstances (perhaps much more than I had realized or am generally willing to admit) also seems “right.” But, if her idea of friendship is to “support” people being their “highest selves” by withdrawing from them when they are not, then I guess I can do without that sort of friendship.

Sometime during the early morning hours of Tuesday, July 24th, 2007, my beloved father, Lt. Col. Everett Walter Zupke (ret.) of Sumner, Iowa, took his last breath on Planet Earth and went home to Glory. The week and a half since has been something of a roller coaster ride, not only due to the surrealistic aspect of losing my father when he was purported to be in ‘good health’ and was only 69 years of age, but also due to the fact that his widow, and third wife, I. Empey of Cypress, California, decided to go against his documented, but not legally-binding wishes, to be buried near his parents in Iowa, and had him cremated (or at least signed the papers authorizing cremation–as there is a backlog of at least a week for the furnace to do its thing).

By doing so, she remained consistent to her behavior when my father was alive–selfish, inconsiderate, and perplexing. We still don’t really know what’s going on. Even her son D. appears caught in the web of deceit, although he may be a willing participant for all I know.

My family is now trying to prepare for a memorial back in Iowa, instead of a funeral. It has been almost 30 years since I went back there; my brothers have all visited there more recently. Sadly, or perhaps better to say, ‘matter-of-factly,’ I don’t have much of a relationship with any of my relatives, except for my grandmother, who at 88 years of age, survives her first born son.

I’ve been experiencing a range of emotions. Certainly sadness is there, and confusion. But also pride and appreciation. My father and I had a complex relationship. I believe that he suffered a major flaw in that he placed his second and third wives ahead of his own sons, in almost every way that counts. It was damned disappointing sometimes. But as frustrating as that was, I was always clear that I loved him, and that I knew, he loved me…even when I didn’t choose the life path he wanted. Nevertheless, he was a very kind and loving man, and hopefully he passed some of these qualities on to me.

I’ve been going through a couple shoe boxes with cards, letters, and photographs in them, looking for items from him. They are few and far between. He wasn’t big on keeping in touch, much less so before the advent of email. His wife hated computers, the Internet, and anything associated with the two. It may be fairer to say that she simply hated most anything he paid attention to, besides her. This includes me. Ironic when one considers how limited that was. And now she’s having a bit of a hard time, because, at the end of the day, or a lifetime, she really did seem to love my father–or be quite attached to him. They were quite affectionate before they got married. Funny how a church ceremony and a legally-binding contract can mess things up like that!

Alongside my Dad Memorabilia shoe box scavenger hunt, I’ve been turning up various and sundry flotsam and jetsam of friendships gone by the wayside. A few I can barely remember. Others, I realize, are missed greatly. I ponder what a poor friend I’ve been to some of those people, yet realize that I wasn’t alone in my neglect. I’ve even tried to find some old friends online, but for the most part, have been unsuccessful. So I’ve been a little occupied making new friends of late, mostly of the cybernetic variety. Focused on MySpace and Tribe. And the Osho lovers–thank goddess for the Osho Lovers!

I’m a bull in a china shop sometimes. I mean well, but sometimes I don’t always exercise the best judgment when it comes to not stepping on the toes or fragile egos of others, especially on some of the more delicate subjects like politics or religion. I like to wear provocative T-shirts that say things like “Close Guantanamo,” “Who would Jesus bomb?,” and “Impeach Bush and Cheney.” One of my favorites says “Homeland Security: Fighting terrorism since 1492″ with four apache warriors holding rifles on it.

Suffice to say, people who are sympathetic to aims of the Bush Administration (more properly known as the “Bush Crime Family”) bristle a bit when they get wind of my perspectives. They often assume I’m a Democrat and would love to see a President Hillary Rodham-Clinton or Barak Obama. They would be sadly mistaken. The democrats are only slightly less distasteful than the Republicans. We need something completely different in this country–a party of the people, not beholden to corporate interests and dependent upon corporate money. And yes, George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Rumsfeld, Fife, Wolfowitz, Gonzalez, et al in a just world would all be in the dock in The Hague. But it ain’t gonna happen–so there’s no point wasting any breath trying to make it so.

Sorry to offend you, but that’s how I sees it, dig? If nothing else I would admonish you to please think for yourselves for a change, rather than swallowing what is being force fed to you via the idiot box or vacuous talk radio.

Ahhhh….what does any of this have to do with the subject at hand? It’s another classic Prem wind-up. Too many words again. Sigh. Alas!

I’m in the midst of a scenario, a suspicion, really. Someone that I have grown to respect and even admire, and for whom I once thought felt the same about me has recently started giving me the proverbial “cold shoulder.” It’s as if I had done something to offend them, but they cannot bring themselves to tell me about it. It’s ironic because in all my dealings with them up until recently they seemed to decry this behavior in others and prided themselves in their own honesty. On the one hand, I’m a little hurt because I thought we had developed some sort of rapport, even if our relationship had been professional and not social. But if this were so, their current snubbing behavior seems even more bizarre because they could be allowing personal feelings impact a business relationship, without giving me the opportunity to apologize or make amends (assuming either is appropriate).

I’m not even sure what I might have done to offend them. It could be due to some information I shared with them because I thought it might be of interest to their spouse, whom I had not yet met. It could be because my MySpace page had some statement to the effect that I couldn’t imagine ever being in a relationship with someone committed to the GOP, but I might still be able to find common ground with them in other areas. The person in question has openly identified themselves as Republican. There may be completely different reasons why they are going out of their way to avoid me these days–but the couple mentioned are my best guesses.

I could risk offending them further by going directly to them and seeing if they were willing to explain their change in demeanor, but that could make them even more uncomfortable by putting them “on the spot” and they might just deny that anything is happening in the first place.

Their work environment is very tolerant and their boss and I have a very good rapport, even during this time of frostiness. In fact, when I first gathered that the person in question was giving me the cold shoulder–when they would normally have given me a hearty, welcoming “Hello Prem!” I wondered if perhaps I would face a similar demeanor from everyone else in the office. It didn’t happen. Everyone else was as sweet and pleasant as they always are. Then I thought maybe they were having a bad day. They did look a bit “ragged” as if they hadn’t slept well or something, but I observed their interaction with other patients in the office and noted they were perky and pleasant with them. But each time we encountered each other, it was as if I wasn’t there. Weird!

Rather than focus on what I might have done, I tried to stay open to them, and if it felt like I could say “hello” without forcing it, I would. But I felt this psychic sort of barrier, as if they were closed and wanted me to stay away–so I did my best to respect that. The funky thing is that it could all be in my head. But there is an accumulating preponderance of evidence that suggests I’m right, the other details of which I won’t go into here as it really isn’t necessary. Whether it’s real or not doesn’t really matter as it’s my own head and heart space I am concerned about. Just because someone, anyone, isn’t open to me doesn’t mean I have to take it as a judgment or condemnation. I’m not here for anyone else’s approval, and I don’t need to be validated by anyone else. I’m OK just as I am, simply because I am.

This doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t be sensitive to where people are at, or try to learn from my mistakes. But it is also my responsibility to communicate as clearly as possible when others offend me or do things that make me uncomfortable. I cannot expect the world to read my mind, or even my body language. (Too many dialects!) We are gifted with this wonderful thing called language for a reason. And too many misunderstandings can occur from just “guessing.” This absolutely includes my own assumptions that this person is pissed at me. I could be wrong. And if I am, I would be wronging them to comport myself differently as if there is truly some sort of rift between us. But for now, I’m choosing not to get too direct because I don’t want to exacerbate the situation and their apparent discomfort further.

And what is this “Cowardly” business anyway? There’s an implicit value judgment there, is there not? Well, yes. But I will temper that by saying that I know the scene very well, and in the past was much more a victim of my own fear and paranoia. Being completely honest with myself now, I can admit the possibility that my own insecurities around others is feeding this. But I don’t want to move through life hardened or indifferent, with a sort of “Fuck you if you don’t like me” vibe. Rather, I am trying to live with more understanding, compassion, and loving awareness that we are all ONE in this adventure and that I’ve been in the same spaces sometimes, and vice versa. This is the compassion part of the equation.

So for now, I will endeavor to not make too much of the matter. This person is not a friend, per se. We’ve just enjoyed some nice conversations on previous occasions, and this person went through the trouble to Google me in the past to contact me via the Internet to say something nice to me. In the process they learned more about my politics and religious philosophy, and as they are a product of some very conservative conditioning, these facts may challenge them somewhat.

I have a hard time believing that anyone who is really about love and equality could look to someone as unconscious, pathological, and aggressive as George W. Bush with anything other than pity, or perhaps contempt (on a bad day). Not to mention the whole conservative mythology that poor people are poor because they are lazy or inferior. These assumptions may point out my own weaknesses more than anything else, as they back judgments that separate me from others. No one fits the cookie cutter shape of any particular philosophy.

I may seem like a liberal to many, but I opine (for now) that my values are more complex than that. I don’t even know if they can be conveniently labeled. In some respects I’m also a libertarian as I have strong leanings in the personal freedom department. But as I am also committed to the idea of “The Commons” and that we have to work together to share this beautiful planet, without respect to economic class, race, gender, religion, so-called “national identity” etc., libertarianism has some limits. Anarchism sounds really good to me, but would only work with a population that was actively trying to be more conscious. Most of the world seems hypnotized, so this is quite the challenge.

I feel I’m in a period of flux. But a value I treasure over all is love, and with that, compassion. I seem to suck at it, as demonstrated by my encounters with neighbors that irk me. Mirrors that reflect aspects of myself that I have a hard time accepting. People like Sam and the management company of the building where I live, as two interesting examples. Or my former friend, Ell, who just seems so closed and full of her own ego, unable to forgive anyone their past missteps, leaving a trail of broken friendships behind her…not just ours. I wish I could just love her as she is and wish her well, but my heart hardens out of frustration with all my efforts to clear things between us, thus far unmet, rejected, scorned, and cast aside. (She still includes me in her ‘broadcast’ emails about the latest triumph in her life–another piece of property bought or sold, or her horses. But she won’t respond to, or initiate a personal communication–at least, not with me.)

And then there is Bertha. When am I ever going to forgive her? There’s the biggest one yet, right there.

So maybe the Cowardly one that I need Compassion for most is myself? Because I clearly have a lot of unfinished business to attend to.

A Ho!

Did I ever mention that this blog was for ‘mature audiences?’ Motherfucking yeah hell it is!

With that little disclaimer out of the way, I will now confess that I finally joined MySpace. Yeah, I know. Total fucking sell-out. But if that’s the way it’s gotta be, then so be it. While I was at it, I finally did something with my Tribe account–which I’ve had since October last year. Between the two, I like the “vibe” of Tribe much better. But I can admit without too much shame that MySpace has been really good for me.

For one thing, I’ve made a few new friends, mostly around the Osho scene–which is totally beautiful. While three failed relationships spawned online pretty much caused me to swear off the Internet social networking scene, I’ve tried to learn from my past mistakes and not get all giddy and head-over-heals about anyone cool I might manage to meet on Tribe or MySpace. So far I think I’m doing pretty well–but I will admit that I’m far more likely to be interested in someone who is female and has a nice picture, all other things being equal (which thankfully–they almost never are and I’ve got a lot of nice guy friends happening as well).

Honestly, it’s been really fun connecting with new friends, new ideas, new music, and all that other groovy stuff that people use their sites to promote and share. I get intimidated by some people’s pages, however. They just seem too cool for words, and yet I am drawn to them and feel more than “worthy” insofar as making a connection is concerned–except for the near relentless problem I have with being rejected. That’s what really holds me back–the fear that I haven’t properly “packaged” myself so they can recognize how wonderful I am and thereby permit me into their exclusive spiral of friends. And yeah…I’ve been getting used to being rejected as well. (A big shout out to Respect for Datura!)

Even getting anxious when encountering something that attracts me, with the accompanying fear of being rejected, is the coolest thing. It brings me right back to the NOW and the realization that I am simply perfect just as I am. (Note to self–say this out loud with me: We ALL ARE!)

Sooner or later I will get everything all hooked up and it won’t matter where I write. I’ve got plenty to say, some of it worthy of other’s attention, the rest, perhaps not.

Stay tuned and remember, Bertha–go fuck yourself darling! (Meant in only the nicest, most loving way, TRULY!)