The Way Of Love Is Not

This, dear reader, will be my last post on this site. I am finished here. It's not to say that my writing is complete, no, I will continue but I need to focus on other matters and explore a different venue for a time.

More to the point though. If you've followed my posts you realize that I started this venture as a way to chart some of the feelings I was dealing with. These were in response to crossing paths with someone who affected me deeply. I'm still not sure why I gave her permission to reach me so. I don't regret it but it's time to move on.

In general, I've always kept my affairs light and non-consequential, ever ready to leave when the wind blows in a different direction. Here I forgot that and settled into being committed, not only to a person but to a concept. Funny though, I never got the same from her. That was a hard lesson to learn. She said once that a soul mate is someone who pushes your buttons. So true.

Instinctively when we met I knew I wanted to be caught, have my soul dredged, shaken in some unknown fashion. This scared me deeply yet I had a foreshadowing that she was the person I'd been waiting for, for just this purpose. I needed to feel the angst of an unrequited relationship, the longing and melancholy that it brings, those things I'd inured myself against years ago, swearing never to be moved by anyone, never to seem vulnerable. For such a long time and so many encounters I was successful. I touched yet was never touched. I could roll out of bed, throw a coat 'round my shoulders and be off down the road without a backward glance. I left many behind and seemingly now they had returned to haunt me in the guise of my passion for this one woman. Perhaps I fulfilled some need inside for her, she never told me and I was never able to discover my role in her life. This was painful yet I paid my dues. These last two years have been difficult to say the least. In my throes I have visited each distant affair as well as I could remember and asked forgiveness. I am done.

So here I am, not young but not old and not sure how to build a meaningful bond with another individual. In a way I feel brand new, like the fresh pink skin appearing from beneath a scab that you peel off in morbid fascination. I am more open now than I've ever been in my life. It's a little terrifying but also invigorating. I cannot use, no longer have, the same talents I had before to win my way into a woman's favor. It's just me and what I really want is to find a partner to dance with. Someone with a simple grace and an easy smile who doesn't ask for much except that I love her above all else. Now, that will be easy.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Been thinking a lot about ghosts lately. Right now I'm sitting here drinking a red wine called Irony, seriously. I picked it up just because of the label. Tonight I need a little less sobriety and a great deal more appreciation for the irony in this world. It's these damn ghosts that have come around again. Not content to clutter the attic or rattle chains in the basement, they have to come out to sit on my lap, look me in the eye and tell me how much they care for me as they shred my self esteem.

We are all haunted by ghosts. Not necessarily those of the deceased. In fact, the worst ghosts are the images and memories of those who are still around, who we occasionally cross paths with, who once we loved, perhaps still do. These ethereal beings remind us in some facet that we have failed, that a road we might have chosen was not taken. They relish in this, these ghosts. They look at us and moan - "what could have been, what have you missed, why didn't you do this...." in that spooky way that sends chills through you and flips your eyelids back in the small hours of the morning to stare at the ceiling waiting for the next breath and not sure if it's going to come. These ghosts, these hauntings, they feed on us. They need us for their existence and we have no seeming power to dispel them.

I know we are all haunted. It's in our eyes. Some make peace with their ghosts and keep them contained as little mice in the back of the closet. The pitter-patter of their feet is audible but the door remains shut and so they scamper about scratching and are only really noticeable at particularly quiet times. Generally these kind of people don't like quiescent moments so they're always rushing about, always busy just so they're never curious about the sounds coming from the closet. This is not really being honest about your apparitions and believe me, they tend to grow in that closet because they know you haven't forgotten them. At some point when the door does burst open, well then you've got a parade on your hands and you're reaching for the medicine cabinet.

Others keep their ghosts close at hand - dinner companions and pillow partners. They are never far from these supernatural barnacles. They feed their ghosts syrupy concoctions of regret and concern, dumplings of remorse, a main course of flagellation and end with a desert of self denial. Their ghosts are fat and sassy. A collection of malodorous spirits marching up and down the corridors of our lives, imperious in their demands, snapping with disdain at behaviors that don't support their gaseous hides.

We come to rely on our ghosts. They're always there, they're never unfaithful in their demands - they always just want more. More time in our thoughts, more focus of our emotions, more space in our future. But they don't want to give us anything in return - they can't, they're ghosts. They don't exist except in our minds. They offer us nothing but take from us all that they can.

I don't know why we give them this power. Lord knows I would like to sit down with my ghosts and have that conversation but these are intangible drifts of thought. If I could gather them and face them in the light of day I'm sure they would disperse, contrite at what they are doing. No, their power comes from the fact that we don't face them, we flee from them. We always have them behind us, over our shoulder. We always hear their footsteps but we never have the nerve to stop, turn around and take a good look at what a ghost really is. If we did they would simply dissipate. Their power lies in inducing us to run away, to say to ourselves, "There's something wrong with me and I can't face it". This is what emboldens them, this is what keeps them in existence.

In truth, you haunt yourself. These ghosts are of your design. Their presence comes at the cost of your endowments. They rob you of your potential but the dirty secret is, they are you. You choose how large they are, how frequently they come around, you give them permission to haunt you because you don't have the courage to laugh at them. Take heed, I'm not saying this lightly. The harmony of laughter within is spring rain for the Self. To laugh is to be confident in who you are - until you reach that you will always run scared from these apparitions, always feel compelled to pay them the dues they demand. The only way to regain power is to understand that these ghosts serve no lasting purpose and the proper response to their wails of despair and pleas for attention is to smile, acknowledge their existence, then laugh a bit at them and at yourself and how insecure you are at times. Send them on their way and go on with your life, a perfect Being, brushing the dust off your soul.

"Eppur si muove"

"Everything is okay in the end. And if it's not okay, then it's not the end." ~unknown


Been bouncing around inside my head lately - caught up with contagion and catastrophe, the echoing halls, receding laughter and the quiet steps of time - measured and resolute. Through all though one word rises each day as I do. Out of the cacophony it reaches, steadfast throughout my being, reverberating like a bell, at times resembling the sound of a fog bound buoy, at times a crisp, clean, clarion peal beseeching me from a church steeple. The word is hope.

It's a funny word, it's a funny concept. Not sure how to wrap my head around it. I know it's a necessary part of our being but I don't trust it. Nope, not after all these years, not after all I've seen. And yet I embrace it when it does return, as it always will, and not just in an accepting way but naively, with sincerity, as if I had never been here before. That's the wonder of it. Like a drug it alleviates the bad memories and insists that the good was better, more vibrant than remembered. With a little more work, a little more luck - maybe a corner not yet turned - some magic thrown into the mix and the world will be delivered to your door. Ah - how I love that feeling.

And let's face it - we're all hope junkies. We wouldn't be striving the way we are without this hunger. We wouldn't be scared so much that things might not work out because without hope we would have no concept of how it might be. How beautiful and strong our lives, our passions, might blossom. Without hope, well, we really wouldn't care would we? And I know you care.

What I ask myself in my work, in my daily dialogue regarding this feeling is how do I know for sure that what I hope for is really what I want. A litmus test to assess and probe, to understand the liminal behavior that may at times border on neurotic. You see hope is a bit indiscriminate in taste but a demanding lover. Once embraced, hope will not leave willingly. The best we can do is understand that we are going to fail to some extent the rule of logic when dancing with this inamorata. We can be certain of suffering through extreme emotional imbalance and the ever popular pangs of self doubt. And there is no guarantee that by enveloping our lives with this hope stuff that we will achieve what we desire, there is no ticket to this show, no reserved seating - you just get in line and wait.

Yet still I hope. Strongly, fiercely, with resolution I allow this flame to consume me and willingly I burn. Laughing at times, crying at others - I never give up hope, I never will. Hope is the measuring stick by which we judge our accomplishments. There is nothing more precious to our essence than to hope and to find reward from that quest. This is why we risk so much, day in and day out. The delivery through hope, the resolution of hope, is sustenance for the soul. Without hope we do not persevere, we do not grow, we do not exist.

So don't ever question your hope, embrace it and savor it. Certainly monitor your behavior around it, understanding that it is a powerful compulsion but know that your hope is your godliness. Your acts on this earth are all evolved from hope and with innocence it is an alter worthy of your sacrifice.

Only the Curious Have Something to Find

They say that the superstitions of a child contain the wisdom of the universe. The magical insight that all things are possible when approached with the innocence of belief. Today I was walking along the waterfront, sort of mulling over this past year. I was reflecting on the interactions I'd had with various people and one person in particular. This was someone I'd had trouble communicating with. We never quite got our act together. She tended to leave quotes scattered about as if they were clues to her inner working. And me, I played into it, treating it like it was some sort of game, where, if you guessed the riddle or said the magic word, a prize would drop down from the ceiling and an announcer would suddenly boom out - "Congratulations, you are now going to live happily ever after".

Some of the passages I understood but many were paradoxical in meaning or could be applied across multiple intents. So I was walking along dwelling on a particular quote and the circumstances around it, mostly saying to myself, ok, you've got stop over-thinking about this kind of stuff and really, just move on, when I hear the chorus of a song coming from the outdoor speakers of a cafe I was passing by. The last line in the chorus, literally, is the quote I'm thinking about - "Only the curious have something to find". I kid you not.

How strange is that? Turns out the words I was pondering are from a song by a band called Nickel Creek. Playing at that same moment as I was walking by. The universe is a funny place. Well this took me in a whole different direction.

One of my favorite phrases is from a cult movie called Repo Man. It goes like this

"They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice o' coincidence that lays on top o' everything."

Personally I think this is brilliant just for the juxtaposition of lattice and coincidence. Lattice pertaining to structure and coincidence signifying randomness - structured randomness - the boy physicist in me quivers in delight at this mental maelstrom. Wish I'd written this. More importantly, I believe there's a good deal of truth here.

I tread lightly now, as this is the house of belief. We each have different dwellings but in some fashion they all provide shelter for the soul with the requisite access and egress. We all have rules whether we're conscious of it or not, of the way the universe works. My rules may be different from yours, but neither are right or wrong. Indeed, your rules are, in some fashion, your definition of what the universe is and inherently influence how you perceive events.

I believe, if you'll bear with me, two distinct things. One is that the universe encompasses a guiding force. I'm not sure about the mechanism or the reason but I believe deeply that the universe is a conduit of sacred design in some fashion for all of us. I haven't committed yet to the concept of a higher being or even a greater intelligence, no, I actually believe the word intelligence is not profound enough to describe the process that forges our being. It's more like cosmic river banks. Within these corporeal confines we flow and interact. In our everyday world it is gravity and motion, the basic physics of space and time, that determine the heft and hew of a river's course. In terms of our souls intertwined with fate, these forces, metaphysical in nature, are love and fear, hope and desire and many, many more shapers of our essence, our being. And much like the proverbial river, there are spiritual embankments that guide us while, in turn, it is our actions and interactions that cut anew shoreline, sending us in directions unforeseen.

My second belief pertains to what happened to me today. I believe that the universe is in constant contact with us, which is obvious but not so clear. Further, I think that the universe is continuously trying to communicate with us. Strange as it may seem I trust that it (I know, a little weird here), wants to try to explain itself and more importantly, give us a greater say in the ways things are flowing. I truly feel that one of our reasons for existence, why we cycle through this dance again and again, is to eventually marry our consciousness with this flow and contribute to the guiding nature that is this river.

Stay with me now. Assuming that this is the case, then I propose that the universe has provided us with the greatest gift told. It answers all our questions, all of them, all of the time. What I'm saying is that any and all responses to any question or request we can think of already exists and is, at this moment, fully incorporated into the reality around us. We have all we need to find any truth, sitting right in front of us. The only constraint is in our ability to interpret what the universe is saying, or if I may conjecture further: the only real limitation is our capability to pay attention. Coincidence, superstition, the acts that occur seemingly at random moments should not necessarily be chalked up to the turn of the card, á la Einstein's famous quote, "God does not play dice with the universe".

Often it is the Greater Voice and we should pay heed. However, like the mythological benefactions of ancient Greek gods, interpretation is the dilemma. I can say with certainty, "this means something" but what, what exactly does it mean? Here lies the enigma, the quest for answers. Where is the key that unlocks understanding and offers sustenance for our oft bewildered minds.

I'm betting that it exists within our own being. It is held in the experiences of our life, our past. It is our own self awareness, the steps that define our journey. At that moment of strange attractors, the universe is saying stop, look deep inside, and voilà, another opportunity to study and find reason and purpose based on who we are and who we want to be.

The augurist is indeed a caretaker of the heart.

Until One Is Committed

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness."

This is is the beginning of one my favorite quotes. It is often misattributed to the German poet Goethe. It was actually penned by Scottish climber, W.H. Murray while tackling the peaks in the Himalayas. The last line in the full quote is from Goethe's Faust, hence the misconception. I have a tattered poster of this from my youth that I unfailingly tack up to a wall or refrigerator wherever I may land. It's always puzzled and enticed me, this concept of commitment.

A friend called me brave the other day for some silly reason and my response was that it's only bravery if you understand the danger, otherwise it's just foolishness. I feel much the same way about commitment. It entails a process that is fraught with risk of failure and causes you to reconsider often. If it's easy, comes naturally to you, means little, then I don't consider it a commitment. A commitment has a goal, a destination and the process of fulfilling that quest is, in truth, an act of changing yourself.

A commitment is a journey.

It's not about picking a location, making an itinerary, buying tickets. At this point you can always change your mind, this is just planning. No, it's when you have your butt planted on the plane and the engines are revving for take off, it's when you wake up in a strange room in a new land with sounds and smells tickling your sense of discovery. It's when you look around and realize that hey, I am an adventurer and I'm gathering new and wondrous experiences - here is my growing edge. It takes you to a unique place. It can be as small as losing ten pounds or as momentous as joining in marriage.

A commitment is a journey.

It has a beginning, it has a middle and it has an end. There are high points and low points. You have the opportunity to turn back, quit. It's an undertaking that forces you to take stock of yourself. Who am I, what do I really want, what have I signed up for? It's the emotional turmoil that lends weight to this endeavor, your desire is the fuel, your will the craft that moves you through space and time. This is the magic of commitment, it means that every step along this path contributes to the sculpture that will become a new you.

A commitment is a journey.

Some commitments are transient and relatively benign, a respite from chocolate or an alcohol-less interlude, an opportunity for the body to recover and realign. Some more important, the determination towards health, the intent to foster a relationship. These are deep commitments, life changing campaigns that force you to focus inward and outward, to reevaluate how you relate to that which is important to you. Like any odyssey, it's not only about yourself, it's also the people you meet along the way, your supporters and detractors. It's how you interact with them, allowing them to foster and sustain you or drag you down. The trek is never alone, no mountain ever climbed without a team.

A commitment is a journey.

And in the end, rest, and the contentment of having wandered far yet reaching home once again. The commitment may always remain within but as you internalize it, allowing it to shape itself into a way of life, it becomes as a well worn comforter that you wrap around yourself on a chilly night, tea in your favorite mug, the cat curled in your lap. It is now a part of the sustaining geography of your own locale, familiar routes peopled with old friends and good neighbors. A satisfying confidence that I am a traveler and there is no voyage that I cannot envision undertaking.


Until one is committed
there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back,
always ineffectiveness.
Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation),
there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills countless ideas
and splendid plans:
that the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one
that would never otherwise would have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one's favor all manner
of unforeseen incidents and meetings
and material assistance,
which no man could have dreamt
would come his way.
whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it now.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!

~W.H. Murray

Of Muses and Madness

I believe it was Spinoza, a 17th century philosopher, who told the story of a rock that was picked up and thrown some distance. While this rock was in mid flight it miraculously gained consciousness and looking down at the ground as it sped along said to itself , "Amazing! I can fly!"

I'm reminded of this because it's much the way I feel about writing. It's instinctual and I don't really have a plan or a goal when I sit down and start typing. If I'm lucky there's a line in my head that I put forward and from that the rest flows. Sometimes though I can write for hours and then feel I have to throw it all away. I'm writing this piece because I'm in a self referential mood tonight and this time of year does provoke the change agent in all of us.

Last year I started posting these thoughts and feelings of mine to really only one person. The rest of you are just innocent bystanders. There was someone out there who I wanted to get to know me, see what I had inside. I wanted to share my insights, fears, hopes, dreams, the whole gamut with her. Someone who had become in a fashion, my muse. We could never communicate effectively, she and I, in the real world, our languaging was always overtaken by the walls we created when we got near each other.

I hadn't written in years and it was her light that spurred me on, though in honesty, I don't believe she would have volunteered for the role of muse. She has strong internal conflicts to deal with and my presence was like water on a hot skillet, dancing her emotions in random directions with a sound that demanded attention. In turn, she managed to cut me in many ways. Some muses are gentle sprites, bent over shoulder, whispering into the artist's ear, mine preferred the harshness of promise and denial.

You ask at this point - couldn't you have found a better muse? Well, let's go back to that rock. I'd been emotionally asleep for many years. Right or wrong she woke me up and briefly I was flying - I had wings and the moon was my goal. Sure I could could have wished for the fairy tale but sometimes it's not about the princess being rescued by a knight riding in on a white charger. It's just two people, both sorely flawed and scared at the prospect of someone truly coming to know them. Both deeply fearing the loss of control in a relationship and being disoriented by the incandescence that love sears you with.

I'm able to write this now though because I've found my voice again on the written page and in opening up I've realized that it's not healthy to have a muse that twists your soul. There are more graceful ways to move through life. Perhaps I'll discover another muse or more likely strike out on my own. I enjoy these exercises in rumination and will certainly continue. Thank you for your kind support. I do get a bit wistful thinking that my words, my heart, might have touched her, opened a crack in some wall inside that was erected long ago, but she's never read these stories and probably never will.

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right.

So this is the time of year we give things up. Yup, been planning this for a while haven't we. Gonna throw out the old, clean up the garbage, create a brand spanking new ME or least some token to this effect.

Ever wonder why? Make a plan to lose the weight, turn off the alcohol, stop the puffing - these are body issues. Find a mate, end an unsatisfying relationship, buy a dog - these are heart issues. Save more, earn more, work at a better job - these are lifestyle issues. Why do we have all these issues?

Yeah, it may seem like a big deal but these are only physical undertakings of what you really want to modify. What you're saying when you make these statements is "hey, my view of myself needs to change. I want something different". The heart of the matter is not about making resolutions, it's about lining up your self image with the way you want the world to view you, with the way you want to view yourself. It's about how you look at the mirror and whether or not you're happy with what you see.

I mean, isn't that the ultimate resolution? Saying to yourself: I am becoming who I want to be, who I believe I truly am deep down inside. Every other commitment just folds into this. Be careful about what you tackle if you don't understand this basic issue. Success truly depends on how you align your being with your beliefs. If you don't see yourself as a thinner person then the weight may go but it will come back. If you fear being alone or, on the other hand, are terrified at the prospect of someone really getting to know you, then what does that say about the story you have around who you are in a relationship. Don't repaint the surface when structural work is necessary.

The fact that we constantly seek change for ourselves, yearn for growth in our being, even to the point of making a pro forma yearly ritual out of it leads us to observe something inherent in what it is to be human. We have great faith in our ability to become who we want to be. This is magical. Reach deep inside and savor the gift you have to believe in your own true being. It is not a resolution you seek but a revolution. You are looking to line yourself up with how you want the world to view you and how you view yourself and who you truly are. When these three facets form a linear narrative you become a powerful expression of the here and now and there is nothing you cannot accomplish. The resolutions you choose are ok, they are reminders that you want transformation but until you focus on yourself, your core being, and start that dance, they are but small manifestations of what you want and need. You can change, but make it real change, do the deep work and grow to be everything you want to be - do it now.


"I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right"
~Dylan

Lions, and tigers, and bears! Oh my!

I stopped writing for a bit. These last few months were tough for me in so very many ways. When I did start back in it was more catharsis than craft. Only now do I feel like I'm finding my voice once more. It's a great blessing we have here, this universe, this cycle. The key is to dance it gracefully with joy, charity, love and hope. Most importantly though is to share it, this wonderful life. Nothing is greater than the ability to discover and understand and finally love other people. I'm blessed in this way as I have found, within my yoga community, two beautiful women, in spirit and poise who have become beacons of light in my life. And I, in turn, find I mean a lot to them. The time we spend together is pure magic in terms of coming to understand each others' fears and hopes and who we are as we continue to grow. I am learning from them how to laugh and dance again. They are carving the word Namasté on my soul with a gleeful abandon. I do love them dearly.

When you're walking in the dark wood and the noises surrounding you are unfamiliar and somewhat threatening just remember - reach out to the left and right, grasp your friends' hands firmly and take a little hop. Then a skip, and let out a small whisper - "Lions, and tigers, and bears. Oh my". Work it up into a full blown dance number, singing at the top of your lungs and before you know it, you and your friends are out of the woods, together.

Aeturnum

Of no needs have I, he said,
nor wants, desires, envy.
I'll take my company with the dead
and whither God may send me.

So late the thoughts of you have stayed
to feed my tired dreams.
At night I cry before I pray
to gods I've never seen.

This is a hard time of year for me. Long ago, in another place, I watched someone, whom I loved deeply and fought with voraciously, destroy themselves. Their inner anguish broke through and the years of hidden self loathing had become a bath of despair. Substance abuse was the requisite escape until finally it became, not an alleviation for the pain, but an answer to the problem.

I had done what I could to get her through another tough holiday season. The holidays, with expectations, memories and hauntings were always a dark domain. I left, thinking that we'd made it yet again, perhaps a new year entailed a new hope. When you're drowning, you don't stop to consider what it is that you've grasped with all your might. All you can do is will it to hold you up, to support you, and pray.

The body was in a coma for a week until I made the decision to end its journey; the soul had left long before that, of this I'm sure. I didn't cry then, I couldn't. I could just move and keep moving. I guess I still am.

To Emily, Wherever You May Find Her

Dear Emily,

There is no Santa Claus. The good guys don't always win. And that prince you were waiting for - well, he took off with a dancer from Club Pixie. Sometimes Emily, that happy ending is, in reality, a tear soaked pillow.

Emily, it's not that we lied to you, it's just that we never told you the truth. People are complicated and though you may want to believe they all mean well, particularly the ones you've come to love, it's not always the case. By nature the heart wants to reach out, wants to mate. This exists in all , yet also within us there is a cruelty capable of occluding the joy that this communion promises.

These two forces not only coexist but each in turn feeds the other, and the stronger the one, the stronger the twain. We are, dear Emily, a set of conflictions when it comes to relationships. It seems as though when you tap into that point where people start to feel their hearts reaching out then the ego reaches in and it becomes a struggle. Strong emotions call forth strong reactions. We all wrestle with this at some level but there are those who bear psychic scars from the past beyond the norm of teenage angst, who are intrinsically damaged in this area. Love, while never simple, becomes a crowded affair for these people. Love, in some, brings with it an entourage of disdain and scorn.

And listen Emily, listen carefully, when these negative emotions appear they are not aimed at you but because this person cannot find the ability to love themselves, you become the target. Because they connect fear and doubt towards honoring their own being, they transfer this to all things that they may potentially love before those roots can truly grow.

There is no cure that you can bring for this, no pleading, no negotiations. This is who they are. They have to recognize it and know how self denying it is and then, perhaps, change can come from within. Sad as it may seem, the harder you try to reach them, the stronger they feel justified in fleeing from any sense of exposure of their true soul.

Em, there is no yellow brick road. Oz for these people is, in most cases, someone who is more damaged than they are. They increasingly sink into a co-dependent trap of despair, never quite realizing that each iteration takes them further from their true being and the reason they are here for this breath of the life cycle.

Girl, you don't have to follow them down. I know you and I know how strong you can be and how much love you have to give. Find the receptacle for all that joy and hope. Seek a partner to dance with, one who communicates richly, one who can grow as you grow.

This is the dharma we are here for, to give love and take love - not unconditionally, but with grace and good measure. Those who can't and won't, those that challenge others to fill some emptiness inside rather than just accepting love - let them go, without anger. Their journey is tough enough already.

Time To Check Your Dance Cards

"Brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want something badly enough. They are there to keep out the other people."

This has become one of my favorite quotes. It's by Randy Pausch, a man, a teacher, who died recently, at an early age, from cancer. Between diagnosis and death he recorded an internet anthem, what is called "The Last Lecture". If you haven't seen it - do yourself a favor, take an hour, sit down, click on the video and savor what this man has to say about life.

But that's not what I brought you here for. What I want to talk to you about is the difference between giving up on a relationship and simply letting go. How do you know when you've tried enough? What magic measurement is there that tells you - ok, I've done everything possible, now it's time to head for the exit? When does it go past heroic and into pathetic? Man - if I really had the answer to this I'd be writing a column for the New York Star - ala Carrie Bradshaw. What I do have is some experience, painful and otherwise and the urge to clear my own head about a recent bout of relationshipitis.

The first thing is - you have to believe that you've really tried. If you wave your hands, breathe hard once or twice and then, when it gets tough, you check out, well that's not really trying. Nothing wrong with that - but admit it, you're just sampling. First thing is - it has to hurt. Not just you but that harder kind of hurt, the one where you know you've made someone else's life a little bit tougher. That's a bad feeling. If you're not understanding this then you're a sociopath and you should find another blog.

Next, you've moved into a place where you're examining yourself and who you are. You're dining at the existentialist table and no one's brought you silverware. If you're not shaken to the core by the demise of your relationship, if you clearly see yourself post-partner as happy and sufficient then there's no need for the angst. The question of "are you giving up" versus "are you letting go" really doesn't apply to you. Go rent a villa in Italy, write a book and just be happy. The rest of us will tackle the tough questions, the nitty, gritty details of going face to face with someone we're not sure about everyday.

Still here? OK, the work begins.

Randy had it right - it's about brick walls and asking the question - is this a wall I have to climb? I guess the first answer has to be - alright , it's a wall - that means there's something on the other side. If I do get over it, or through it or under it or discover some previously unknown physical law that lets me transport, I will find , on the other side, what I want. Let me repeat that last triplet. What I Want. If you look at me and and go "gee, I don't know what I want, being with this person is going to solve all my problems" then all I have to say is you're better off buying lottery tickets. May I suggest MegaBucks on Fridays and Saturdays and MassCash on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, try 129 - it's my favorite number.

So you know what you want - this guy or girl fits the bill and figures predominantly into the visions you have of Christmases to come. Well no problem then - just make it work. If they've got issues, particularly that big issue - they don't want to be with you - then it's not a wall; it's a moat, a lake, a sea, an ocean. Maybe you've got a boat but odds are they're seeing beaches you can't reach. Look at the clouds - pay attention to this person just as you would watch the sky for those rolling thunderheads. Why would you sail into a storm? Listen, wait for a better day, they always show up. Be open and accepting and the soft breeze that comes will bring smiles rather than the terror of clinging to the gunwale and being tossed about in waters not of your making. Remember, always - you choose when you sail.

The last scenario is the toughest. It's why I'm sitting here late into the night, nursing a bottle of wine and thinking of you, dear reader. You're both in love. For arguments sake, with each other. Yet something isn't right, it's not working. There's no doubt - you love him and he loves you. Still, every time you interact, you walk away feeling hmmm, not quite right, not what I wanted. There's no obvious problem, the sex is good or at least ok, the conversation, at times engaging. You have mutual friends and you exist as a couple in the eyes of the world. Yet somehow there's something missing.

Here we come to the point - if it's not working then we have to say goodbye - right?

Don't know - (I know you want answers - well, look in the mirror - are you smiling right now?) it's your call but please, there are so many sad relationships out there, built on desperation and convenience - don't settle. Don't be afraid to go on. Examine the situation, understand the conditions you exist in, if they don't suit you then make a decision.

Sometimes you have to give up - it's a key part of self preservation but more often that not, you have to let go of a relationship. That's ok - the secret is to take care of yourself and trust that the other person will do the same . That's the magic. Letting go is the right way to say goodbye. Do it gracefully, with poise and power, bow to your partner and let then know how much you appreciated the dance. Then, once again, pay attention to the music.

When You're Skating On Thin Ice, You Might As Well Dance

If we're willing to give up hope that insecurity and pain can be exterminated, then we can have the courage to relax with the groundlessness of our situation. This is the first step on the path.

"When Things Fall Apart" - Pema Chödrön

Love Conquers All

I've just seen a wonderful little movie which I want to recommend to you. It's called Wall-E from Pixar. You've probably heard of it and you may have already seen it, particularly if you have children. It's a beautiful tale, full of love and hope. If you haven't seen it, check it out, better yet see it with someone you really care about and hold hands throughout - it's that kind of movie.

I went to see it because I'm always curious about how robots are portrayed in film. Robotics was one of my early loves and I studied machine learning for quite a few years from the cognitive and philosophical side. Eventually I drifted from the esoteric into what we call wetware, trying to derive models of learning by observing and experimenting with actual biological systems. However I digress...

This movie is a little bit about robots, they are the main characters after all, and more about relationships. Wall-E falls in love with another robot who has trouble loving him back. It not that she can't, it's just that she's got other things on her mind. As in many classic fairy tales, our hero strives and strives to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds to prove his love and win her heart. There's no grandstanding on his part, no dragons being slain, no boasts about his abilities or accomplishments; he's just patient with her, staying by her side through many difficult moments. To me this is love; it's saying ok I care about you though I may not completely understand you and I'm here when you're ready, for whatever. Wall-E's big dream was to hold hands with her. I'm down with that - simple touch means so much.

There's not really a whole lot more to true love; it's just someone saying I accept you as you are and I want to be with you and only you and then meaning it throughout their being. And you can't tell if someone loves you from a distance, it has to be up close and messy. Love is about taking chances, which is a wonderful segue into the second type of relationship portrayed in this movie.

The humans in Wall-E's world have lost their ability to face risks. They live in a sheltered environment protected from needing or wanting anything; it's all delivered to them by faithful robotic servants. This retreat from actually living their lives fully to just sitting around and letting circumstance dictate what they should and shouldn't feel has left them satisfied yet clueless and not truly happy. They don't realize what they're missing. That's the second lesson here - it's the struggle, the striving, the overcoming of fear and the joy that comes from dancing in the face of doubt that ultimately defines how much we are alive in this world. If we don't fully live, scary as that may be, then how can we ever really love, and isn't love what we came here for?

Of Heaven and Earth

I spent this past long weekend celebrating the holiday with my extended family. We gather once a year around this date, coming in from all over the country, settling into a string of homes along the northern coast of Maine, a bit off the beaten track. It's one of my favorite places on earth and being there with the people I grew up with, my tribe, makes it all the sweeter.

At night, if you take a moment and walk a few yards away from all the festivities and into an open field, you can lie down on your back and view the most amazing display of stars, something we rarely see from the more populated areas where we all tend to live nowadays.

In truth, we really can't fathom the scope of the universe, the dance of stars contained within and all their magnificent gyrations. Science tells us that we are constantly being bathed with many forms of radiation from these distant bodies, but it's the limitation of our senses that registers them only as twinkling points of light. Still, this seemingly random scattering of luminescence has inspired us, awed us, and led the poets, artists and dreamers of our cultures to create wondrous works of infinite depth. We're only seeing a small piece of the sky's true beauty and yet look at what we can do with it.

When we reach out to each other, when someone comes within our sphere of notice, when they start to mean something to us, we only see a small piece of that person, a minute portion of the radiation of their true spirit. At times we have to remember that it's our own limitations, our own, only too human, set of senses that are not allowing us to truly realize that other person.

And much like scientists, there are those that proclaim, when dealing with people, there is more you need to know, more characteristics to be gleaned, a theory of why this and why that that has to evolve and at length when enough information is gathered you can finally expel an "I understand" and go forth. Only then will you let someone into your life. But the poet, the artist, the dreamer within tells us: what I see is enough to work with; my own senses, limited as they are, provide for me enough that I may create and in doing so join spirits. Just as the heavens inspire us, so too should we be inspired by those we love. Let's just lie back and enjoy the dazzling display of each other.