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.