On becoming "Me"

This is a short article I wrote to get published in a magazine, but I have no idea how to sell it so I will offer it here. If anyone knows how I might be able to sell articles, please help. I am in pretty serious need of money at the moment. Regardless of whether I ever get a penny for what I write, I hope my words are of benefit to someone.

Becoming “ME”

A child’s smile, eyes wide in wonderment, bouncing in excitement; this is what I see many times almost every day. Most of you know that I twist balloons for a living. It’s been about 36 years now. I am so blessed, children love to greet me. Many times each week, I am hugged by a happy child. Joy!

I had a difficult childhood. Lots of abuse culminating in running away from home at 15 (or was it 13?). Years of living on the streets. Thank God for a street performer by the name of Curtis Reed. He was a live mannequin that I saw when I first arrived in Hollywood, which was the only city I knew of West of the Mississippi. When I arrived, I was shoplifting to eat. After all, what does a 15 year old runaway know about making money? If it hadn’t been for him, I would likely have wound up in the porn industry.

When I saw him standing there like a wax figure, dressed as a cowboy, I was amazed. I watched him for several days before it occurred to me that I could do what he was doing. So I went down the street and tried it. I was young, innocent and handsome—though I didn’t know it at the time—and so was able to make a living even though I wasn’t all that good at it when I started. A week after I arrived in Hollywood, I was approached by a man who convinced me that he was a porn producer. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I had found an easy way to make money, I likely would have gone with him and life would have been much different for me. From this, I have learned that if one just does what one feels is theirs to do, it is possible to change a life and never even know it.

For many years now, I have been very interested in learning how we come to believe that we are who we think we are, which isn’t who we are at all. I pay attention to how parents and their children interact as they come before me. Sometimes a child will be a little leery of this strange man blowing balloons in front of them and the parent will say, “She’s shy.” Yet, this shy girl might be hanging on my knee (I sit on a small stool when I twist) a moment later to watch me draw a face on her balloon kitty. What happened to the shy girl?

It occurs to me that, from the time of infancy until a child reaches about 7 or so, ther parents are quite literally, God, the One and Only. After all, what does a baby know of the world? Everything from how to drink water to who they are is taught by the parents. Older siblings help with this training because they have already been through it. But what do the parents actually know about the world?

I was curious about who my parents were when I was going through this period of Parents-as-God time, so about 20 years ago, I found a young woman with three small children who had recently gotten out of an abusive marriage and spoke with her of her hopes and dreams. She had no clue who she actually was or how the world worked beyond what it took to keep her and her children safe and fed. She hadn’t had time to think about the deeper aspects of life. In other words, she had no clue who she was or how she got that way.

Then I went to a bar and found an aggressive, young man about 26 (the age of my father when I was born) who had three young children and spoke with him for a little while. Again, I was talking with someone who had no clue what the world was like or how he had come to believe the things he believed. These two were representative of the two people who were most influential in programming my young mind. Neither had a clue.

So, I watch as parents talk to their children as though the child has experience with what is being discussed. I watch as the children imitate their parents when the parents aren’t noticing. Occasionally I will see an attractive young mom shrink back from a guy in the audience—perhaps she had been attacked by someone who looked or smelled like him—and I will see the young daughter also shrink back, not having a clue WHY Mom is reacting in such a way. Children often interpret stimuli much differently than it is presented to them, usually for the simple reason that the parent doesn’t wonder how the child, innocent of past experience, is experiencing the new information.

Then, usually by ten years old, children begin to notice that MAYBE their parents are humans, not God. Often, they have been to church and have been taught that God is somewhere else. So they begin to rebel. Still, our parents often retain a “special” place in our minds. There are our parents, and then everyone else. I know that I didn’t see my parents as just ordinary people doing the best they could until I was in my thirties; I was nine years old when my Mom turned thirty.

So, how did you come to believe the world is as you believe it is? How did you come to believe you are who you think you are? Have you ever wondered what you were taught before your memory gave you words to remember? What did you learn from your parents that they had no idea they were teaching? What are you inadvertently teaching your children by not maintaining the understanding that he or she has no experience with what you are doing and why you are doing it?

Twisting and pain. (Posting two weeks after writing)

It has been an interesting weekend. First, a comment about my daughter, Cly: she is an absolutely amazing author! I've been reading her latest version of her book, 'Dragon Tamer' and it is a breath-taking epic novel, the first in a long series... And if she doesn't have it finished by the end of this month, well, let's just say that she doesn't want to know what would happen...

This was the weekend of Winterfest here in Lake Havasu City. I twisted so many balloons yesterday, and at such a high rate of speed that I threw out my right elbow: lots of pain! I made it back "home" and took the last of my vicodin and woke up this morning wishing I had more. My arm has been hurting from the shoulder to wrist. It feels like every muscle has crystalized and then shattered. But, got to work when the work is there, twisting today was a serious challenge. This was a first, and it will hopefully be the last time it has happened.

Today...

I spent most of the morning and afternoon just being aware of the sensations of beng alive. Finally, my conditioning regarding "making a diffrence in the world" combined with my self-proclaimed purpose of making people smile drew me out of the apartment. So, I pulled on my kilt and walked down the street to the local grocery store which also has a Starbucks and wi-fi. On the way, I stopped in a little store that drew my eye and had a pleasant coversation that touched on many subjects with a woman who quit her job as a mortician in order to go to college for training to teach 5th and 6th grades.

Resuming my stroll to the store, I had the joyful opportunity to make a kitty balloon for a 4 year-old little girl, followed soon after with the blessing of being able to make a teddybear ring for a beautiful, shining 94 year-old woman being pushed in a chair. Unbeknownest to me when I began twisting for her, it was her birthday. She said, "It's about time I'd stop having them, wouldn't you think?" I had the distinct impression at that moment that she would get her wish this year. She told me that she is ready to go home...and I don't think she meant that in an earthly way.

As I sit here at this table, I observe how people interact with each other, and with themselves. It's very interesting to see how parents program their children, often telling them things without any apparent thought about how the child might be interpreting what is being said. I see how the children observe closely how their parents interact with the world, not having a clue WHY Mom or Dad react in a certain way. The child, I know from much time spent observing the process, imitates and adopts the parent's reactions to the world without thought, only because that is the primary way children learn. When I twist, I often see behavior that was trained into the child without any intention of the parent to teach a behavior to the child. Then, because  the parent wasn't conscious of the learning process that was cconstantly going on, no one has any idea how the child came to behave in such a way. Learning for adults often appears to be a conscious choice that we can turn on and off and we forget that small children haven't developed that skill: they are learning in leaps and bounds every moment they are awake.

Now, turning my attention to the adults, I watch for indications of behaviors that were imprinted rather than chosen. There is much evidence of these behavioral habits in almost every interaction. So few seem to act in a considered and conscious way, rather they overwhelmingly respond out of habit, as though they have experienced THIS particular situation before, which is utterly impossible since each event can happen only once even if a similar one happens later. My definition of "maturity" has to do with just how much one has learned to remain aware of their interaction with everyday recurring events.

It appears that I'm still not all that mature in certain matters, using my own definition. My eyes are drawn frequently to women of certain body types when, had I total control of my habits, that would not be the case. However, I am assured by my teachers and by my own experience that continued awareness the habit combined with attempts to replace the unwanted habit with a chosen habit will one day result in a reprogramming of my habitual responses. Observing this process of piecemeal maturation in myself, I am able to  allow that others also experience this process and can give them the "benefit-of-the-doubt."

I guess that the "goal" of the maturing process is complete mastery of one's reponses to each and every event, resulting in a merging of flow into each moment with no emotional or habitual judgments. I note that each new moment in which I know and am aware that I am alive is another moment to either feed the old habits, or the new. It will take a future moment just before my death that will tell me how successful I was in the maturing process. Until then, I'll just continue to muddle through as best I can, one moment at a time.

Ramblings of a mad man. ;-)

Well, it has been 7 months since my last date. It has been even longer since I last had a woman look at me as a woman looks at a man. I find this interesting as I am often told by women (that I know) that I am an attractive man with lots "going on." I'm starting to feel the lack of the feminine in my life experience. There is still an ocean of joy, but the waves on the ocean (so to speak) are noticeably missing feminine energy. I know that my life-style doesn't lend itself to long-term committed relationships, thus finding a woman interested in me for such is small, but one might think that someone would be interested in at least going out for an evening of just fun. Go figure.

There are things about ourselves that we find enjoyable, and a few that we wish to change. I sometimes grow confused about what my life is about. Always, or at least, when there is no attachment being pulled apart that I didn't even know existed, there is peace within, but on the surface of that peace is a wondering of what to do with this life time I've been gifted. Lots of skills, but not much use for them. Lots of knowledge, but most folks I meet don't seem to want to know what I know, at least, not in depth. I recognize that my life is not being wasted: I have been told many times that something about my experience has changed someone else's life for the better and it is easy to see how my energy effects my surroundings. But I think I keep getting caught by the thought that I ought to be getting ahead in some way. There seems to be a dual experience going on within, one experience is that just to be alive is enough. The other states that I am not living up to my full potential, so to speak. I watch both experiences to see what they do.

As my life progresses, it becomes more and more clear to me that this is all just a game that the Universe is playing with itself. What can be truly important if even the Universe itself isn't permanent? Relatively important? Yes. But truly important? Nothing that I can think of. Please note, this isn't a sad thing! It means that I am part and parcel of the Universe as a whole which can only mean that I am never alone, never without Source in me and as me. But it does leave the "little me," the earth-born and trained bit of Universal experience at odds with societal training.

I have a friend, who even though I think of him as a brother, I can't remember his name. He is a Theravada Buddhist monk. I know his name from before he was ordained, but how to address him as an ordained monk continually alludes me. In any case, he is presently residing in a cave in Burma and also posts on this blog site. His life as he describes it appeals to me as though it might have been the type of life that I lived in my recent past incarnation, if such indeed exists. To be honest, the way my life is presenting to me at this time is somewhat monkish, or so it feels to me. I am spending even more time alone than I am used to, but this, too, is just something to watch and be aware of. One of the monks at the Great Vow Zen Monastery told me that "...90% of all spiritual questions have the same answer, 'Be Still.'" This I believe.

Strangely enough, sometimes I question the validity of that statement, but then I find that, to find the answer to the question, I become still and listen for the answer to present itself.

I took a ride on the 'wing yesterday, just for the joy of it. I went south this time. there is only one road that passes through town, Highway 95. Twenty miles north of here, is I-40. About 85 miles south is I-10. Before yesterday, I had only ridden about 30 miles, just shy of Parker, AZ. So, I decided that I would ride south and see what was there. I got to an open area that went on for miles. Just sun, sand, and a few small bushes and small plants. There might be some animals there, but I didn't see any. I pulled to the side of the road and shut off the bike and just started walking out into the "waste-land." Unfortunately, I couldn't get away from the sounds of the traffic, but I imagined what it must've been like for the first whites to see the land. Then I thought about what it would've been like for the first people to see it. It is amazing and awesome, desolate but beautiful.

A few years ago, I met a woman who had lived among the natives of Africa for many years. She told me that a large part of their days was without structure or reason to do anything. After one has filled the belly, what else is there to do if there are no books, no phones, no radios, no TVs, no computers, and no cars? what would you find to do to fill your days? I'm finding a small version of this in my life now. And I'm not fighting it: I want to see where this goes.

Well, they are kicking us out of this establishment. Happy Singles Awareness Day!

Las Vegas lights, friends, and mortality.

I have too few friends to just accept losing one to death of body without at least attempting to do something about it. I'm not going to go into great detail about the mortality bit, but I learned a few things last night.

Last night, my friends here in Vegas took me to Fremont Street; the home of the world's largest video screen. It's also a big party combined with a great busking venue. I'll see if I can post a picture or two of it a little later. In any case, I had a beloved friend inform me, via text, that she was going to leave this realm now that her kids were taken care of. This friend has been talking about wanting to do so for well over a decade. The way the words she wrote read, it sure seemed like last night might have been the time.

I learned that there is little one can do if someone really wants to leave this life... Especially if they live on the other side of the continent. Now, I'm okay with suicide in certain circumstances. Well, I think it might be more accurate to say that I don't think it's a mortal sin, but it is a waste of a great learning experience. Being born human is a rare opportunity and there are many ways to handle the hardships living on earth throws at us. Well, I said that I wasn't going into detail, so let's just say that I hope she can see that I responded in the only way I could think of to show her that I truly care about her. I hope it doesn't create more difficulty for her. If you read this, I love you and have always wished for your happiness.

After the events surrounding the texting conversation worked themselves out to it's conclusion (the last I heard, she had been checked on and was still alive) my friends here and I had arrived at Freemont Street. So, we went to go see the spectacle. I think it's a 24 hour party. I saw a couple very tired-looking clowns twisting balloons, a couple live mannequins--the first I've seen in well over a decade and which is significant to me since that was my first busking skill--and a number of other street acts. Katie, one of my hosts in Vegas and a very charming hostess at that, and I danced a bit. I know I enjoyed it and it seemed like she had a lot of fun, dancing in such a place. We even convinced my friend, Elliott, to show off a little of his very impressive dance skills to the wonderful music of one of the acts. We hung out for a couple hours and then headed for home.

Today, I somewhat reluctantly will head back to Lake Havasu City. I have no reason to go back there right now other than the fact that I only asked for a couch until Sunday. How was I to know how much fun Vegas was going to be... And how amazing my hosts would be? Elliott and Katie, thank you so much for your time, friendship, and incredible hospitality. Elliott and I have some history, but Katie's generosity came just from having a giving heart, since she just met me. I wish everyone could be friends with my two friends. Joy! :-D

And, to add to a wonderful Vegas experience, Katie has a sweet little girl, Zoey, who had fun giving me imaginary lollipops, cherry and rainbow were her favorites. And her huge savanna kitten really enjoyed playing with my (balloon) balls. I have never known one of them to pop. It is a testament to the kitten, Diablo, that he was strong enough to pop one!

Oh! And if you are ever in Vegas, go for breakfast at Babystacks. Awesome food... And their creamcicle pancakes are amazing! Now to get ready to ride, go eat, soak in a hot tub, and then head back to Lake Havasu City and whatever else the day will present me with.

"O"

I have just been blessed to witness the most amazing and awesome performance I have seen!! Words fail to even begin to describe the skills of the performers. It was the first time I have ever cried just from the shear joy of such vitality, strength, and grace. There were times throughout the show that I came close to sobbing. Maybe I'm just a whimp, but if you go to Vegas, I can't recommend this show highly enough. Wow. Just... Wow.

Vegas

Awesome day! I moved to the new place a few miles from where I was at. The kitties sure acted like they were going to miss me. Leaving animals who have befriended me is one of the hardest things about living in such a mobile fashion. They don't understand why I'm not there anymore. After dropping off the stuff I figured I wouldn't need in Vegas, I and hopped on the 'Wing and rode to Vegas. Averaged 40mpg and the bike ran flawlessly. What a joy to ride! It's not a speed demon by any means, but it offers a solid and steady ride

When I got to where I'm staying in Vegas, I was greeted by my friend, Elliott and his very sweet friend, Katie and her little girl, Zoey. What a unique space they live in! The ceiling is 25 feet high, at least, maybe even higher. Lots and lots of room. Katie has a couple of very tiny dogs and a savanna kitten. He is 6 months old and already taller than most house cats. And extremely beautiful, though somewhat reserved, animal!

We went dancing at the studio Elliott works at and I must say, it was a joy to be in a studio atmosphere and to dance again... And at a pretty high level. Wonderful! I did notice that I tend to dance in a bit more "laid-back" way than most others there. Perhaps that stems from all the time I've spent dancing in untraditional places, like the middle of a freeway traffic jam or in movie theaters and the like. Or maybe it's just that I've become lazy. :-)

Now it is late, for me, and I'm about to crash for the night. I tired!