The Rhythm of Life

Its not all fun and games let me make that clear. Dealing with my life on life’s terms can be challenging and blissful. And there is no rhythm to which one comes first or last or even if they happen simultaneously.  I used to look for signs for the next direction to take trouble is my street signs aren’t always in English but often they are spoken through the sign language of my heart.  

Wishful thinking and intuition used to be hard to discern between but that is no longer the case. When the answer arrives without the sound of landing gear the answer is the best possible choice for that moment. Not always will it feel comfortable but usually it’s the right course to take as the results may take time to become visible and that requires patience and tolerance.  

Christmas Music Sucks

A Christmas in transition is what my sister called it. And that goes without judgment of my situation or any of the people in it or those who are about to leave my company. I found that I didn’t miss the shopping, the traffic, and the expense of buying presents for a family that now shuns me. And I am okay with that because it just confirms in my mind that I was just a bank. Sound like sour grapes well, yeah because it was okay while I was footing the bill and now that I have pulled the plug I feel just  like it’s the drinking buddies I had that don’t call me anymore.  

To be truthful I have come to the conclusion that not only are  Christmas decorations  a waste of time and money but so is the seasonal music that accompanies Christmas. The endless drivel has  become abhorrent to me.  If I heard Silver Bells one more time I was going to shoot myself in the head. Truly there are some songs that I can stomach but for the most part the same old tunes with a new artist do not make lousy lyrics and pedestrian melodies a hit song. Christmas is over and I couldn’t be happier that the season to be jolly is the season that  makes me sick.  

That's Not My Name

When I hear the song of the same title it moves me in many ways. The first cognation is that I have been addressed by many nicknames beside John, Johnny, Jackie, Jack, Steve, Spaceman, Ace, Magoo, Handsome, (my parents are responsible solely for that one) Lightning and of late Lefty. Greetings by name evoke memories of days gone by and fortunately for me most of those have been in love or fondness and to a smaller degree in jest but always they marked a particular period in what is my life.  

I never wanted to be called Jackie once JFK was elected because his spouse was named Jacqueline (her beauty notwithstanding) and as the country embraced her it was Jackie for short. I was revolted that what was my childhood moniker was now associated with a female I wanted no part of that affectionate nick.  Only to find myself embracing it 40 plus years later and urging anyone who might listen to use the shortened adult version: Jack. Although there are moments when my inner circle gravitates to Jackie. What I used to detest I now revel in.  Some people that knew me as John would never make the switch and to those that knew me only as Jack any idea that they might use John or Johnny alternatively was not possible either. It also confuses some significant others like my sisters who made the change so many years ago and are a bit confused but are also perfectly willing to call me whatever I want.  

It’s not my name but when my military college mates started to call me “Spaceman” it was not affection they had in mind. It was to mark my seeming characteristic of being “out there” and in truth innately I am and I am not sure it applies now simply because of my age.  My left-brain developed as it is might leave something to be desired when it comes to the simple functionality of having pedestrian common sense. I conveniently use the excuse that I am creative and that’s the price you pay for being filled with afflatus.  

I have more to say but I am on vacation.  

MC & HNY

A Book With Another Cover

Experience tells me that although you can’t judge a book by its cover when the first page reads well it certainly can be the harbinger that the succeeding narrative might have the ethereal power I long for.  I have been at it long enough to know that when it begins badly it probably doesn’t take a soothsayer to predict a left turn is not magically going to turn into a right one.  

What does all this mean? It’s just that when you experience things for the first time even though you’ve done it before it doesn’t have to be the same as last time or at any other time. When I find myself pinching my epidermis and am totally present in each moment then not only does peace reign in my overtime brain but also the self-talk switch is off.  I fall asleep at the drop of a hat and when I wake up I know I’m not dreaming. 

Desire

The door to desire. It’s been open and part of my life since I can remember. I used to chase Debbie Celecia in the 5th grade and by accident one sunny summer afternoon I squeezed her burgeoning young breast in a childish chase across my lawn in suburbia.  I recall how soft it felt so much softer than the Spalding I would play punchball with on the asphalt streets of my hometown. It was fleeting that erotic perchance touch.  She said nothing but my face was flushed as I came to an abrupt halt in my pursuit of this young beauty with long brown tresses down to her derriere.  I remember it to this day I wonder if she does.  

The Dream Academy

When I dream I connect to a fantasy world that exists only in my mind but contains instructions for the real fantasy of my waking life.   

Rewrite

 As I try to redefine my life once again I realize what the missing ingredient is. It is the love of myself.  I don’t love Jack.  I don’t even admire him. Oh I marvel at him sometimes when his problem-solving mind comes up with solutions to a complex set of circumstances but there really is no love of self-involved.  I also realize that my feeling towards others is not the route to love or even lasting happiness for myself.  In order for me to find this self-love the self-talk dialogue I speak has to be rewritten. Even when I use self-deprecating expressions about my age in order to get attention or be funny serves no purpose or function.  

People pleasing has to make an unceremonious exit because it never seems to please people and often leaves me feeling anything but disdain for them and guilt for me.  I want to do what I want to do but finding out just what that is I really don’t know yet. My wife had always said that I do what I want but that’s not really true because it’s often what someone else wants to do that I get swept up in and wind up being convinced it’s what I wanted to do in the first place.  Now that I can do what I want virtually when I want maybe I will find out who I am and what I am.  

The Dining Car

Passengers in the dining car never stay for the duration of the trip. Feed them well but let them sleep in their own beds.  

Gray Humming Seals

Today I played hooky and took off for Greenport for a ride in my friend Bob’s Boston Whaler for a trip around Plum and Gull Island. A little rough were the currents but my friend navigated the choppy surf with the most adroit speed and helmsmanship.  He told me that we were in for a treat as his son and he this past weekend were witness to a herd of gray humming seals off Little Gull Island. 

Well he was right and as we approached the lighthouse we spied about no less than 50 of these magnificent creatures speeding from their dry perch on the rocks to the waiting frigid waters. It seems they were as curious about us as we were about them. These seals so unlike the black playful ones we know from the zoo or the movies were massive weighing in at best guess to be at least 300 pounds or more and although they looked like a fish out of water on land when they slip gracefully into the water they move with certainty and a stylish beauty that is pure wonder. 

With their nostrils flaring as they approached us still at a safe distance that is safe seal distance you could hear their humming as if they were talking about us in the language of the sea. I wonder just what it was they were telling each other? Something like Oh God not these bipeds again!  Or maybe they were hoping we would jump in and share a swim with them but at 44 degrees Bob and I were not having a go at that.  

More tomorrow.  

Circumstantial Evidence

My father used to accuse me of taking his socks virtually every wash load. He never presented any evidence of this supposed miscreant behavior but I am sure he had his own set of circumstantial evidence that he clung to.  And I can say here for the first time that I never took any of his socks but he was so convinced I did. He did not ever check if they were in my drawers so it was perhaps just his wanting to hear his own voice complaining rather than actually having any interest of where his socks actually went.  

This has followed me occasionally throughout my life and  sometimes I just get accused of things based on circumstantial evidence and that always makes me indignant. And to be truthful much of this suspicion has been warranted.   Oh well 50 years from now these little pet peeves will not amount to an anthill.  

My Anima

As I sit here and realize that I am in charge of many more aspects of my life than I think I can lay claim to I have to dispense with the idea that peoples emotions take precedence over what I need to do to maintain a sense of order in my life amidst the seeming molecular chaos that surrounds me like runaway electrons trying to find the right orbit to settle into.  

My anima cripples me and puts me on pause too often when it is real time speed I need to let my life escape into. If I fail I fail but the zone of new discovery will always be an occluded sky if I don’t allow myself to falter and get singed.  Sometimes it’s not only courage we need but also a departure from the familiar like today when I get pulled in directions that bring me comfort rather than experiment. I need a return to isolation just so that I can hear myself think rather than what others think I need or should or want to do.  Not easy when you’re a sexagenarian because as I try to fool father time each day it is with the knowing that the end follows every story whether we have lived or we have chosen the easier softer way. 

Grateful

I never really considered holding out Thanksgiving as a special reporting day for all the blessings I have in my life.  I never liked Earth Day because I always felt that it was ceremony over substance when we became conscious of our environs for the waking part of our 24 hours. The same is true about being grateful for the life I have. It is fraught with uncomfortable situations mostly of my own doing but when I get out of my own way life is grand and even the most fleeting moments of sadness and pain never can reflect how deeply I love taking my next breath.  

A Sexagenarian's View

There comes a time in this mans life when you have to take stock of just where the hell you are. You’re 60, been married three times and failed miserably for different reasons in each one of them but you have your health. Well yeah-no. My body seems to be functioning just fine if my life in chemistry is any proof but I have contracted bronchial asthma for the 4th time and my heart likes to “Jump Around” like that House of Pain song. (Which I detest) 

But let’s look at the good side. I have lost 27 pounds and am as fit as I was when I was 45 and business although is hardly what could be considered “good” is passing in a time when the world is going to hell in a hand basket. And there are other considerations that are both good and quite bad which I will not chronicle here. I will now take Jacbook II and make those entries private and although it will be in a blog those that both love and hate me will no longer be able to read it and then eviscerate me.  

Purity

This blog has gotten me in a heap of trouble and now that my life is moving at right angles to my previous existence there is not much to report about it’s intersecting with those whose lives I leave behind.  I will always remember the part I played in my role of Step Dad and in the final analysis it might be that part of my life that I was just not cut out for. My wife is a dear soul and I will always love her.  I hope that she has many grandchildren who will flock to her side because her aura is pure and loving.  

I'm A-Fibbing

A second day of A-fib sandwiched in between 24 hours having a heart monitor on and being event free. Today is worse than Wednesday as I am at a low HR around 52 and still feeling dizzy. Now at 9:40 and  some 3x5 mg Bystolic’s later I am still in bogeyland. It’s into the hospital for an ablation I think. My circle says it is my exercise regimen I think it is just an episodic condition that plagues me. Some might say it’s Karma I think that has nothing to do with it and the lesson is that I am just living like I am 30 and that’s the chink I have to look at.  

Admonition

My friend Mike a retired anesthesiologist was in the right place at the right time for me today and I just wanted to acknowledge him even though he won’t see these words.

 I have struggled with this atrial fibrillation for quite some time now and today was the first time that I had the symptoms of light headedness and mild dizziness that accompanied it and did not have the accelerated HR I have almost became accustomed to.  When I awoke this morning,  I was feeling that unmistakable HR and took my meds which I am still derelict in doing most days and proceeded to head for spin class. Thinking it would simply dissipate as it usually does with the combination beta-blocker and arrhythmia drug I climbed aboard for what was in hindsight dumb thing to do. 

In any case as I sauntered around the locker room and wandered aimlessly Mike grabbed my wrist  and told me that even though my HR was low that it was indeed irregular and that I should get my butt to the emergency room and get a monitor on. As it turned out my call to my cardiologist came in  and I went to my doctor’s office instead. I am now wired and the admonitions from everyone are ringing in my ears and maybe this time I have actually heard what they are saying.  

And to my friend Mikey I owe a debt of gratitude. 

The Man In the Mirror

As I continue to lose weight I am beginning to like looking in the mirror again at myself. For so many years I would avoid the mirror whether I was at home or at the gym I made it a point to steer clear of seeing my naked upper torso. If I did have to look in the mirror it always had to be with a shirt on. 

I don’t feel like I am being narcissistic rather I just feel more comfortable in my own skin except now it’s just less of it. Losing weight has also given me a boost for my self-esteem and not hurting my confidence level in my work either. I’ve had less time to write which of course is my deep passion but the writing will always be there God willing.  

Navigating my life now takes almost riveted attention to detail and I find myself not losing or misplacing as many items as I had in the past and maybe just maybe I am getting to keep my head where my feet are.  

The Third Quarter

Is it just a coincidence that I have lost more than 20 lbs. and have had a renewal of my own self-esteem all in a summer that was probably my biggest life change to date?  It might be, but I don’t think so. My days and nights now are filled with a new energy that had heretofore (except for spin class) kept me a self-imposed prisoner on my den couch. Every time someone would come in that side door I would be found invariably sitting in that same spot wondering how life had just seemed to be passing me by.  

Please if you are reading this I am not placing blame on my former situation on anyone except me. It was my own choice as I felt I had simply just run out of them.  Now at 60 I know that my life is in the 3rd quarter and even though I have saved all my timeouts I will not waste another precious minute sitting idly by ignoring the potential God gave me.   

I Feel Like a Slinky

I hesitate writing what happened today in Jacbook because there is absolutely no point to it and would only cause those more angst than what they are experiencing already.  I do feel that as time marches on that the feelings of upset, hostility, hurt and outright rage will settle down as the vagaries of each of our lives takes precedence over our everyday feelings of distorted emotions.

In any event my dysentery lingers on now in it’s 6th day and every time I take in even the lightest of morsels my intestines feel like The Lodger is eviscerating them with his scalpel.  A bit overly dramatic but every time I put something in my mouth the rest of my digestive tract starts its march like a slinky down a steep staircase. 

  

A Plan?

They say I have a plan. What is that exactly? Some plans are plans to do nothing I guess that’s a plan. That would never work for me. However, as far as a definite plan of where am I going or what I am doing? That my viewers I am not very sure of. The more I see the less I know and the more I know the less I see.  

My Rattle

I need my rattle. I don’t think I had one as a baby and right now I would like to make a racket with it. If I have gone off the deep end the fall feels really good I just hope I don’t hit with a thud. However being sick has me realizing the I am vulnerable to slings and arrows and my reflexes are just a bit off but now I am feeling the strength return and will be back in the saddle of my Schwinn soon enough.   

Unlucky 13

Unraveling 13 years is a very sad experience that I don’t wish on anyone. It’s not just the years it’s the memories we have lived through. Now that it is coming to an end bitterly and most recently more acrimoniously it is more painful than ever to look at some of the ‘stuff’ that has accumulated in our home we have lived these past 8 years. 

When the parting is something both want it is never as painful as those relationships that end when one is lamenting of being alone and left to start again. For me it is not about starting again I can never do that. I just want to be happy and for many reasons I just was not. Not one of my blended family will be able to swallow that sentence but they don’t have to only I do. And as bitterly my wife feels about me and despises me for ruining her life she never for a moment can take into account that I do love her and will always love her but I just cannot go on the way things were.  I can be resentful of my stepson and his wife who have sent me to Coventry but have no problem living here these past 3 and ½ years. And as they prepare to finally leave their nest I am sorry that it took my wife and I to part for them to do so. I have done more than my share and no one can tell me different and I wish them well as they finally embark on their own road. 

Blowout

I felt the vulnerability of my life this late morning, as I had to bring my car to a halt on the painted triangle after a pothole annihilated my left rear tire. Although it felt like a safety zone from the speeding cars on the expressway I thought at any moment one vehicle might veer off and claim me.  Of course it was only to be a situation and the solution was close at hand. What I liked best about my reaction was only my concern that I would be late for spin class at 12:15.  It used to be so easy to change a tire when I first started driving now I had to use grey cells and a college degree to unhinge the deceased wheel. I liked it when things were simple, but now design has replaced practicality and it’s just a symptom of a world gone mad when changing a tire is more complex than a differential equation

A Russian Made a Difference Today

There is no doubt that having bronchial asthma takes you off your game. And even though I was on the road for what seemed like an eternity today I was able to muster enough of my congruent sales persuasiveness  to benefit my client and my business spending an hour with a young Russian immigrant who looked more like a young Yul Brynner with his shaved pate. He unlike so many New Yorkers has an open mind to the ways of finance and does not take conventional wisdom as gospel.  

And in a week that should keep me well occupied with business appointments it should  keep my mind off the tragedy of my personal life that some view as entirely my fault. I know it’s not all my fault and in the end that’s all that matters. It still makes me sad that though that some  that think I don’t care, think I am bi-sexual or have started smoking pot just don’t know me.  

To Be or Not to Be

To be or not to be, that is the question.  Whether it is nobler…I have forgotten the rest of Macbeth’s soliloquy but I don’t think of Shakespeare when I hear this phrase in my mind’s voice box. I hear Mel Brooks (Jack Benny’s version never seemed to enthrall me) in his version of this popular movie with his now deceased wife, serious actress Anne Bancroft. Why is that worth writing about? Not sure really but when words fly into this birdcage I like to be near my word document so that whatever is about to be transcribed takes on a life of it’s own or falls flat like a dead Spalding dropping below its normal high bounce.  

If I am ‘not to be’ how does ‘to be’ really differ?  I think that ‘not to be’ is using my right brain when its clearly left-handed I am.  I get turned around a lot when a fly ball heads my way and instead of following my natural instincts I turn the wrong way round and drop the ball that was clearly catchable. Many errors in judgment I have made when just a little more thought might have hurt someone less or not given them a false hope for some other outcome. I like to think that when its time for me ‘to be’ again that I am off with the crack of the bat and not get a late break and wind up trying to make a shoe string catch that gets past me and goes all the way to the wall.  

Beach Run

After a run 3 mile run on the beach of Treasure Island I was amazed that my spin fitness gave me an uninterrupted jog except for a dip at half way point.  Not two months earlier at the Jersey Shore I was having trouble putting more than a couple of hundred yards together before my reduced HR kept me at a snails pace for my out of breath jaunts. I wasn’t jogging then that was for sure but today I actually think that I might be able to put together a 5 or even a 6 miler before long.  

The water temperature had to have been 80 degrees plus because it felt like a bathtub in the Bay of Tampa. It also gave me pause for that I need to confront my demon, which is hiding out behind the shadow of kindness. Because for most of my life  I cannot bring myself to hurt anyone’s feelings and  I wind up obfuscating the truth and causing more damage than the hurt feelings I imagined.  This trip has made me reevaluate what is authentic behavior and I realize that I  have not been true to myself and therefore had led others down the garden path thinking I have something else in mind for them and me.  

Departure

Departure from the life I have known for 13 years is by no means an easy one. The memories will last a lifetime as well as the lessons I have learned about myself through the offspring of another man. I hope that he reenters their life and makes up for lost time but those things are out of my control. I will remain on the sidelines in case in the remote chance someone needs my counsel or even less likely advice.  My stepson who I have had many mixed emotions about over half of his lifetime just may turn out to be the voice of reason as I move inexorably to closing out this chapter in my life.  

Emotional Hangover

I have been able to shake off the emotional hangover of late with much less debilitating affects.  Emotional hangovers for me are unresolved feelings and emotions about people, places and things in my life. This past week had me confront my own emotional vulnerability without using my defense mechanisms that have a tendency to prevent me from seeing the situation in its entire view. As I allowed my tears to fall I found that the next day had me feeling refreshed instead of in the “morning after” malaise.  

The Lodger

There’s something to be said about having a home base. Through my own choosing I have made the unconscious decision to stay away from the home I have become accustomed to being in for nigh on 8 years now. Admittedly even though it has cost our family dearly  I am comfortable in these environs.  When I get up Les Habitants are still in the somnolent state and when I  arrive home all have since retired. I feel like the lodger. 

  

JEM The Mystic

My ex-wife is a mystic in my eyes. I met with her today and she gave me more than I ever gave her beside the heartache and pain. Here’s what she said.  Are your habits stronger than your intention?  And if this is the case (as I silently agreed in my head) then work on strengthening your will. The second precious stone was that: When in doubt cultivate the opposite view. 

I can probably admit that ordinarily my intentions are good but often I am unconscious and my will takes over. My distorted behaviors that I produce wind up leaving people in pain and sometimes very angry. Now I know that this was not my intention but self will run riot precludes any good coming of what starts off as good intention and makes a mockery of my sobriety.  Like my ex wife suggested I will go on and re examine how I can start to strengthen my will.  There are a few thoughts I have in mind and just like my inner resolve that has kept me sober 22 years I can use that design for how I live out the rest of my born days.   

The second piece I will have a field day with and I want to let it gestate for a day or two.  There is more to be said about habits and intention and the link is one that I have never considered and I have to thank my ex-wife the mystic 

Purgatory

I never gave it much thought but that is where I am right now. Virtually alone in a house of four and although I feel like they are all plotting their next move I can’t let paranoia or suspicion haunt me.  They will do what they do and I will keep my resentments at bay because it will serve no purpose but to exacerbate my life situation such as it is right now. My daughter in-law is pregnant much to the  many tears of feeling sorry for herself that she would be barren.  I hope that she learns that her self effacement is a true waste of emotion. 

My stepson continues to be I guess the voice of reason and I am not sure he talks to me  because he lives here in an economically conducive environment or he is truly cognizant unlike others that will remain nameless that I am doing my best in light of this family disintegration. More importantly I do this for my wife who is the only victim here.  I know that by continuing to be the other aspects of my personality that have not changed  will give her some peace of mind as she has much on her table with the health of her own daughter and the impending arrival of the next generation.  

Purgatory does has it perks however so I know that no one is feeling sorry for me but this is no picnic.  

Across the Universe

The distance between where I was but a week ago and where I am right now feels like across the universe. As I meet situations head on and leave reticence aside for others to calculate I am finding that my ruminating about the subjects becoming virtually pain free and I have been able to leave taking responsibility to those that own it in the first place. I have so often looked for my culpability in every scenario.  I always find myself at fault in some way whether it is the proximating cause or specifically the cause. And as I am discovering I have been overcompensating way too often. I will of course take responsibility when I could have generated better results or I am engaged in mental or physical lethargy. This new course will change my thought process and give me more time to focus on what’s really important and not what actions those that could have acted on their own recognizance. 

The Journeyman

This weekend has brought me a sense of family back into my life even if it is not permanent in nature.  Nothing is permanent anyway but when we think things are about to change we focus on the future rather than be in the present moment. I have to stay rooted in the now because as I age even though I only have today my life feels ever more fleeting as one thing begins while the other is ending.  I don’t know where I am headed but I do know that my Guardian Angels are all around me and even if I don’t know the destination the journey will be a guided by province. 

Objurgation

After receiving two fierce objurgations from my soon to be ex-Sister in law last night, and a very spirited gesture with her middle finger I realized that I must have meant more to my blended family then they let on.   

My wife’s sister was no more than window dressing in my life for the past 13 years and we never had more than throw away dialogue between us. Although she and her husband always opened her home to me and for that I will always be grateful for. Outside of that she will be no more than a faint memory to me as time marches on. 

I was not enamored however with the fact that she alluded I was drinking.  I may be lousy husband material but breaking my sobriety was not something that was ever considered. She though might take a look at her own drinking patterns because I think that was the only reason she was able to summon the courage to accost me. I do want to thank her son for trying to restrain her as her husband stood by as the usual spectator. In truth it did hurt but even people I have little or no respect for seem to be able to attack my self-esteem. And maybe that was the lesson I have to learn.  I told my wife last night because I didn’t want her to hear it second hand and told from only one point of view. 

Spin class did help me erase what was truly a hateful little interlude. 

The Salt of Tears

Sadness comes in many forms and today it arrived in a package that I can’t seem to open because I am missing the dexterity to put it back in its original form.  I could never realize why a woman would want to be associated with me in the first place. Outside of kindness and a limited sensitivity I am not a captain of industry nor am I independently wealthy even though my grey cells are greater than the average Jack.

I have decisions to make and they’re not going to be easy. Do I sublimate my own needs to repair those of my significant other? She is a sweet vulnerable soul that makes my heart cry. Or do I keep on keeping on trying to raise my own sinking ship?  I have to think of myself first and that might require the most painful of choices.  

Angels in Conference

What has happened to me in the last few weeks has been nothing short of miraculous. It’s not what you might think and even though my relationship status has changed I will always be part of the past 13 years. I gave my heart and soul and that story will never be erased no matter how high the tide rises.  

As per usual I have gotten off topic again. As I was saying something happened in the past few weeks and just as if an 800 lb. Gorilla entered the room without me knowing it I feel like I have gotten off my own back.  Things are still nascent and my angels are in conference right now as we speak. I am relying on them more now and asking less and less questions. I know that they are there to guide me and I don’t need to know what the next chapter and verse is.  

I Love William Faulkner

Taking a page from William Faulkner I just love to sit and write without a plan without the editor inside my head that often stifles my afflatus. Well intentioned although it might be my ego cannot write nor can it edit. 

I know that purposeful writing has its place in my daily scribes, like I do when I write about spin or if I am talking about A.A. or mindful or fanciful entries but I think the best of me lies in what the universal mind offers me when the words just flow without coaxing without squeezing and without editing.  

A Thicker Stick

The major change is subtler now but the idea that I can do exactly what I want even if I don’t know what it is makes my day expand in ways that I never knew existed. Not to say that being married to my gentle soul my wife did not have many fantastic moments because they did, but now I can find out where I need to go in terms of what I need to make myself happy. One might conclude it’s all about sex but in truth that’s not it. I have had more than my fair share and that is not braggadocio just the path I found myself on because I did not work out my relationships with women tracing my history back to the death of my sister in 1969. She was my confidant and when she left this earth I never grieved her passing properly (whatever that means) and it left me angry and confused as to how I related to the opposite sex. But I have gotten on a tangent as I usually do and suffice it to say that my stick might be getting shorter but it just got a whole lot thicker.  

None of My Business

They say they’re not reading my Jacbook but somehow I just don’t believe it. Maybe my stream of consciousness entry threw them all off earlier this week. I don’t want to seem like what I write is all that important albeit entertaining but there is nothing to indict my character with now and it’s useless to continue to monitor me.  And what my detractors have to say and think about me is none of my business. This phrase is a great one that anyone can use in their daily lives because no matter how many people like you there are always going to be some that are indifferent and some that really abhor you. 

I have a new lease on life but let it be said that it is not without regret that I have another failed relationship.  Many times those in pain can only see what’s in front of their own mirror. It’s too bad really but we all are egocentrically one-dimensional at times. 

The Firebrand

The impetus has been set from a quarter of the divine. The resting place has found my heart open where there was no door.  Turning a knob where there was no handle gives me the entrance of a lifetime once thought gone with 30-inch pants.  The fatted calf stripped to the bone within an inch of my life fell into the complacency of a burgeoning body that stretched to hide my indignation and shame. No one was saved only the thoughts that were pervasively black were extinguished. The firebrand, which turned to ice, came back as lukewarm indifference.  Afraid of my natural sun gave me only clouds to see when dawn broke.  

Nights and the days carry the harbinger of awakening the giant that only lifted the weight of others. Releasing my charges under their own recognizance feels like the lioness letting go of her cubs to forage from a distance but always secretly wishing for no untimely deaths. Still afraid I am that I let go before things might have changed in the forest before I saw my own open field.  A deep breath is my only reprieve from the guilt my father gave me that ties me to the post with the chains of missing my own song before I have to start humming the words.  

My legacy has not been disembodied like the boy who cried wolf exclaimed. Too many false positives I have fallen victim to only to embrace the fear my body automatically embraces  when my coffee cup begins to tip.  Let the mercury fall, it never seems to wander far from the scale of the universe of justice.  Never have I been given an assignment that left me unconscious.  Or as A.A. told me countless times: God doesn’t take us this far to drop us on our heads.  That might seem a bit concocted but when the seesaw seems stuck in the down, a counter weight takes me back to water shifting back to the levels center.  And balance has always been restored in short order even when I think the sweep hand has stopped and I think I am paralyzed.  Motion creates emotion and my own footwork takes me from the pain of my not noticing. The darkness was only my shadow when my angels were showing me the lighted path.  

Anguish

It’s not a good time the last 24 hours in the world of Jack. Watching her in pain is one of the most difficult things for me to witness, feel and absorb. To think that I am the direct cause of a woman’s anguish that I have loved for 13 years is more painful than I could have imagined. I am not living the life of Jack the lad like she may think but I am trying to make room in my head that I can become the affable man that God created. It’s not that she kept me from that, I would never blame her for anything negative it’s just that I became a hermit and withdrew so completely I nearly drowned myself treading the water of which is my life.  There’s more pain to come I imagine and what road I take will likely be one that is paved before me with little time to ruminate over. I will just have to keep moving to make progress in pursuit of an uncomplicated life with open doors and windows.  

Badgering Wolves

The book on Jack has me up before dawn has a chance to crack. The wolves of worry came nipping at my feet as I broke from REM sleep, and as I took in the deepest breath they disappeared as the sun crept under my window shade. They never have the courage to talk when I stare directly into their satanic eyes

The Dark Dance

The book of Jack never felt like it does right now. I can hardly believe the transformation that my mind has gone through in the last capsule of time. I was content to mark time and wait for an outcome I had hoped others might lead me to. When I realized that I was going nowhere except on a merry go round I knew that I had to let go of not my love for my family but that I did have to release myself from the shackles only I had the keys to.  

Life has shown it’s opening and I have to walk into my own clearing but it is my fervent wish that those that loved me find it in their heart to forgive me one day but it is not my province. It is my wish however that love finds them in the same light I look upon as I see my own heart beating to a melody that has me dancing in the dark.   

My Black Cat

Cat #3 the one I refer to as 47 cards still loves me. Sidney named after one of my favorite actors came meowing at my door tonight asking in his best feline voice to come in. Of course I granted access and all he wanted was a mega dose of affection, which I quite frankly have been withholding for the last 6 weeks. Not willfully mind you but nonetheless I felt his need and for about 5 minutes he paraded around my legs begging for as much touch as I could dole out. And as is their wont cats get their fill and then leave unceremoniously. He did just that but thought better of it because not 2 minutes later he was verbally knocking again and this time he jumped over my keyboard and had his way with me and I of course acceded to his wishes. This time he pursued a full court press and drooled just like a dog would until he was sated. Then he left again. Bottom line: he made me feel oh so good. 

The Altar Boy

A friend reminded me that I was a former altar boy and stripper and that I should write a book. When you look at my saga and include those two diametrically opposing personality types I can see why a tome might be in order.   

When I think of those two pieces of my life I automatically think of my weight loss of 75 pounds, my marathon and ultra-marathon days, my three wives, five miscarriages (one stillborn child) and my drug and alcohol addiction. And where I am today a sexagenarian whose cage opened unexpectedly and is now wandering the open range. I suppose that there are several things that I have added to some that roam the earth and if there is only a dearth that can agree I will spend my remaining days making other people smile, take notice and spend a few moments remembering my past. To those I love and will always love I say that with sincerity that I tried to make a difference in their lives  (believed or not) even if some of my character defects left them with pain and sadness.  

Boundaries

The price of freedom may come at too high a price. It means that if I am not careful I will find myself inside another vortex of people pleasing and subject to the vagaries of yet another set of problems that I can easily fall into because of my enabling personality.  Not to say that I can’t establish my own boundaries, it’s just that if I don’t look at what makes me happy first I will be enlisting in taking on the burden that I have been released from.  

A New Life

It’s not that my old life was bad because it was the most enriching time of my life. And after getting sober being a step dad was my epiphany from the isolation of my own island.   Coming from a larger family of five children I learned quickly how to withdraw and be vague especially with my father who was an unmerciful intimidator. Five children on a limited family budget made it seem like I had to be on the hunt for food everyday. Although I suspect this was part imagination as well.  In any case I learned to be alone within the confines of a full house. 

There were places that I came out from my obfuscation and they were my paternal grandfather and my eldest sister Carol. However I have gotten off my topic and on to a branch too far from my main point.  

This new life might be an illusion or it might be something that was there in my old life but I chose not to see it was there. In any case I am busier than ever and I hope that my blended family will learn to accept my faults as we cohabitate in these tough economic times. I am just who I was before until I was discovered as not the man some wanted to believe I was. I always knew who I was even if those that loved me pretended they didn’t.  

The Times They Are a Changin'

The times they are a changin’. I never felt that a sabbatical from my duties as a stepparent would be essentially a relief. Not that I don’t hold what I did dear because it’s forever but just the idea that I can be a friend to my stepson instead of his jailer makes me feel a sense of relief about what I can still do for him as he prepares to dig deep into his new vocation.  I will help him all I can while I can. 

Girls on Film

I don’t have a story about it but I just loved that song by Duran Duran when it came out in 1981. In fact I saw their U.S. debut at a dance club called Spit in Levittown.  Little did I know that they would become a supergroup later.

I am singing just a bit more these days as work seems to be just a little bit better after a dismal beginning in 2011.  However, maybe it’s because I just feel a little bit better about my life too and losing the guilt that I was being assigned by would be character assassins.  

My stepson will be my voice box as I make my exit from my half a Brady Bunch family. I have decided that I will help him all I can in his new endeavors as much as my experience will lend itself to his chosen vocation. It lets me see that I have no bitterness towards him or for anyone that is sailing into my sunset as a Step Dad.  It makes me feel good too that since I have no agenda it is purely the other part of me that some might have chosen to forget. I have to hand it to the kid because he is not shortsighted at all.  

Love Is Sometimes Not Enough

I know what I could have done but just like a habit that lingers it probably would have been no use. That doesn’t change my feelings about my half a Brady Bunch family because they occupied so much of my love, time, effort, heartache, frustration, impatience, intolerance, devotion and the closest I ever came to having children of my own.  I have been rejected out of hand by some but there are those too that will remember what I did and that is my wife and my stepson.  One day my daughter in law will forgive me as well. (Well maybe)

Sometimes love is just not enough.