Renewal Thirty-Eight : What Goes Up May Come Down

Maybe I just came down today, or maybe I slept in a weird position, or maybe I have just been living so much of a Lego-blockTM life recently (every block of time has to fit together just right with every other block of time or the entire structure is malformed and unstable) that my mood was bound to shift. In any case, I have been waxing caustic today, and a bit frightened perhaps.

It scares me to think of how I’ve been involved in this relationship pattern with women. I know I’ve been here before, but it is a strange phenomenon in our society that we have 13-year-olds acting like grown men and women and grown men and women acting like 13-year-olds. This is especially a problem with females I think.


Because, commensurate with an evolutionary view of gender, females are the decision makers when it comes to mating. Males compete with each other for female attention, but the females decide which male they’ll mate with. I know there are exceptions, but generally speaking this pattern seems to be the rule of thumb. If the female of the species is steeped in an illusory reality, the choice they make not only perpetuates a particular genetic lineage, but an illusory one as well.

In our current illusory reality, we have become so adept at disguising our true intentions, even from ourselves, it’s tough to tell the basis of our choices. And if we don’t know or cannot tell the difference between illusion and reality, we don’t know what it is we are truly perpetuating.

From my perspective, even with my own patterns, it seems to me the loves of my life have had this kind of dissociation. Each of them, in their own way, seemed to espouse some ideal that was disconnected from their behaviors. They wanted, by their own accord, what they saw in me. However, it really seemed as though they wanted control over what they saw in me, and I was the carrier that needed to be controlled.

However, hierarchies are not the kind of realm to which I aspired. Control, to me, was an illusion. Openness, transparency, and courage are the basis of intimacy, along with passion and commitment. However, that commitment did not extend to the sacrificial and ritualistic dismemberment of one’s being. Surrender is not the same thing as submission.

And I, like many males, apparently bought into the cultural download that the male of the species is the basic problem and females are the solution. Females are the nurturers, males are testosterone-driven competitors good for lifting heavy objects or coming up with some discovery or other that might lead to technological control over our environment, even at the cost of that environment.

Females, it seemed, also are heavily invested in this cultural download. In both cases, an addiction to an identity, self created, biologically created, and/or culturally created, can be an anchor that impedes flight. And, for me, the discovery that I, by virtue of my gender, was not the sole problem was quite a shock. And for the women in my life, the very idea that they may possess the very problem for which I stood accused was tantamount to a betrayal of their identity. In the process, we all had identities that were under assault.

All right, I know this sounds kind of harsh. I don’t mean it that way, it is an attempt to look honestly at the process, not the specific personalities. After all, I was involved with them, so clearly I’ve got to look at that. Well, I was (am?–I hope not) stuck in the save-the-world syndrome, or at least in the help-certain-people-because-with-help-people-can-change-and-hope-will-spring-anew syndrome. Besides, that was the help I craved. And the only way to be worthy of being helped was to truly help (good luck figuring out if one is actually helping or not, or even if someone needs help).

Yeah, yeah, it’s a bunch of air molecules, nothing of any substance to grab onto. And in one way or another, it seems like we all were dealing with overactive egos. With all of this stuff about re-creating our magnetic center, sometimes the magnetic pull of the old orientation just creeps in and cancels out the new creation. I think it works like wave theory; one can have waves that come together at their peaks and augment the peaks (sort of a power phase), they can meet at the troughs and augment the troughs (sort of a depressive phase), or they can come together where the peaks and the troughs meet each other, effectively canceling each other out (sort of a neutralizing phase).

Okay, we take the magnetic waves from our given orientation and we have to work with that while trying to create a new set of magnetic waves from a new point of orientation. There are bound to be some sparks, pits, and duds as we attempt the change over. Our intent is the navigational system from one magnetic orientation to the other. But we have to be willing to ride out the storms and the Sargasso Seas, along with those beautiful days where we just seem to zip along without much energy expenditure.

Today was a bump. I thought about my foolishness in trying to change things, to get relationships, as a general pattern, to go with the power phase on the peaks, ride out the depressive phase in the low points, and be still when it was phase neutral (as opposed to becoming a relationship marked by being fidgety and/or bored ). Oh, I suppose I shouldn’t be too hard on myself, especially if I’m looking at process and not personalities. I did stick with my awareness-rather-than-ego orientation and navigational system in the long run, even if I screwed things up in the short-term.

Still, here I am in my LegoTM block life, lacking an intimate co-creator, remembering the lost hopes and dreams of my father and mother (especially my father) and wondering about being lost at sea. Indeed, there’s a bit of drama there. My mother certainly got everything to work out in her life except the manner of her passing and being with someone, and she actually didn’t want that last part, even if she did (too much push-pull and a resultant cancellation of intent). Perhaps she also didn’t really want to let go of her physical presence, even though she followed a lifestyle that was bound to impair her physical presence in the long run. I think my father did pretty much the same thing. He died prematurely at 60 though, and did not get to experience the freedom to do what he wanted that my mother did.

It’s a common phenomenon I suppose. Maybe by living lives that cancel a lot of things out, we create the illusion of a duality that is adversarial. Then we toss in a disconnect so that we forget we created the adversity and we can now “reasonably” cry about the unfairness of life.

Today I was challenged to remember that I’m creating a stronger magnetic center that will make it more difficult to lose my way. I know I’ll like a new plane of existence, this old one just isn’t me. And on foggy days such as today, one must navigate by instruments, trusting that the settings are correct and the destination clear.

I feel like I survived it today, an incremental renewal on the path to greater renewal. I just had to wipe the moisture off the instruments, re-check to see if I want to go where I said, and see if I’d programmed the instruments correctly.


Maybe getting acknowledged last night was just too much and threw me into a tailspin.

Well, fine. The old navigational system is archaic and needs to go to Goodwill, the Salvation Army, or maybe the dump. I suppose we could call it an antique and keep it around in our museum. Whatever the case, it had its day. We can honor the old systems that once served us, but it may not be appropriate to cling to them.

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