We have snow! Touchdown finally for a winter storm...and on March 1st, no less. And even nicer is that it is "manageable", that means it's just enough (@6 in) to look snowy-pristine-sparkling-white-and-fluffy gorgeous but not so much that it requires shoveling or any cleanup because with the near-60s forecast for the 3rd it will all be gone soon leaving just memories of it's splendor. And I can easily make it up the driveway to the road to meet my daughters for dinner later...so snow without any worry, what could be better!
Yesterday, while snow fell outside my floor-to-ceiling windows, a full wall of glass, my portal to the outside, I was comfy-warm-snuggled inside, that cacoon feeling I always have when it snows or rains steadily. There's a rhythm to snow falling I find comforting, the steady floating downward...soft...airy...gentle-oh-so-gentle-kisses-from-the-sky...and if you look at one closely, very closely, a marvel in symmetric geometric form. All that beauty and kisses too. Heaven.
Yesterday, I got up with energy, rested...the evening before I had a gift of intimacy in Second Life, and for some bizarre reason, even though it's virtual, pixels on a monitor, words typed in a chat window, having so little feedback really for how the "other" is responding, I still feel like I've connected, shared affections, and that makes me feel good, real good. And it would be so much, much better if this connecting were in real life, I truly know that, I do, Second Life is no substitute, it really cannot be, not for something so inherently nonverbal, so physical. And yet, the feelings of connection evoked are similar, so similar. That fact surprised me totally the first time, and it still surprises me. I wish I understood that better.
Maybe it's a testament to the power of human imagination. That we can imagine so well that it has physical, hormonal effects. I think for me it may be more like Pavlov's dogs. That when I evoke memories of physical sensations my body tries to reproduce them. Like when I run in Second Life, sometimes I can actually feel the rhythmic movement in my legs, the one associated with relaxed, sustained running, the slight pounding, the moments of flight in each stride.
So it doesn't surprise me that much that I might experience similar with virtual intimacy....what surprises me though is the emotional context that I experience. It's like have some pixel action and I'm connected to the "other". Instantaneously. and apparently permanently. Wow. I don't remember that effect real life with the first time, or early times, of a relationship. I remember excitement, but also caution, holding back. I'm not sure the difference is that cut-and-dried though. Because I did feel a different kind of connection once having shared physical intimacy real life. Except once when I decided to see what would happen if I was intimate with a total stranger--that was not interesting, no fun at all, and I was never inclined to repeat that lonely experience. That's just it, in Second Life this one person was virtually a stranger the first time (all puns intended), yet afterwards I was instantaneously emotionally attached. I felt helpless, still feel helpless, with that feeling of attachment. Like it's a given, no questions asked. Not what I expected, not at all. Maybe, at this time in my life, after building a real life relationship based on decades of shared history, my stimulus-response toolkit now includes total commitment, attachment. Hard to tell, really, but I suspect casual sex will never be me, real life or Second Life.
So, yesterday I woke up energized and thought I would start getting my toes wet, testing my family research waters again in the snow-falling hush-stillness, but that did not happen.
Most of the morning chatting with a Second Life friend who IM'd me out of the blue "waves, weary ...." I couldn't remember where or when I met/friended this person... I think it may have been after my first time with a closed scripting class. In any case, his IM was a surprise, and evolved into hours long chat-sharing that felt genuine and significant. Second Life can be good for that...it seems to encourage honest, personal exchanges for those interested in having them. Turns out he's in some care facility, terminally ill, and the staff is giving him grief about the time he spends in Second Life.
What a conundrum. I can sort of see both points of view. We're in real life... we really are, no matter how awful our circumstances. When I hear people saying things like:
"sighs, I gotta go and do 'stuff' in rl :("
"argh! Damn that 'stuff' "
"Can we mute RL?"
--- I think "no! embrace that 'stuff' or try to make it different 'stuff'" or "define different stuff for yourself". Obviously assuming there's positive and/or changeable options real life, somewhere, for each of us. and that we *should* have our primary focus being real life. that being in Second Life 24/7 is a problem-to-be-solved.
And yet, I've met people here whose lives seem so circumscribed, so limited. I know for myself how freeing, stimulating, and *fun* Second Life can be. How can that be wrong? I must admit that when someone tells me they're 17 and are in Second Life because they're bored, my head almost explodes. What's going on in a world where a 17-year-old is so bored with real life that they seek stimulation in Second Life? My oldest (35) daughter recently relayed her amazement about something similar--kids she knows that have no hobbies, no interests, and apparently parents who don't see this as an issue. These are adolescents...so I'm sure there are school groups available of all kinds unless southern California is totally different that way...maybe it's because working parents don't want to deal with the logistics of getting kids to and from places after school, but don't they see how vacuous it is for their kids, anyone really, to spend so much time being passive, not learning, practicing engaging with the world around them? This is a rant I could go on and on about, and bore everyone to tears I'm sure.
Back to my terminally ill friend...we talked about a lot...Second Life-real life...childhood abuse...bullying...trust...love...honesty...writing...stories...making a difference in this world...being alone...songs/performers that we remembered from the 60s/70s...dancing and romance in Second Life...babies...building in Second Life...Harry Potter...a lot. In so many ways we're on the same wavelength...so easy to communicate...quite amazing really...and so random that we talked, that day, that morning. The essence though, the most important *truths* we shared were these:
" Gawd what I wouldn't give for a heartfelt RL hug ...."
"Reach out ... and ... feel
Tell them what you need .... you'd be surprised"
"Tell them what you need." Something I've never, ever been good at. Never. I do it just a little here, really just a little in Second Life, and I feel how hard it is for me, expecting rejection, not being understood, laughed at, judged. But those things haven't happened (yet) in Second Life. I chose wisely, I think, and I was fortunate enough to have been chosen in turn...a kind, thoughtful, inherently good sensitive man, not perfect, my glasses aren't that rosy-Pollyanna-ish, but really good for me. I'm building up to the "telling" in real life, because the thing of it is, all those qualities are true of my real life partner, unfortunately we both share a long, long history of never sharing personal feelings verbally. And I dearly, dearly need some real life hugs, which I am going to have to ask for, again for a series of real life reasons which now no longer seem unsurmountable.
And then, after hours of Second Life talking, I spoke with my brother for two hours, catching up, but a lot about our mother. My mom...someone I've always experienced as judgmental...a person I've always been a disappointment to, always, even now...someone I've never been able to *explain* myself to no matter how much I've tried, with logic, with passion, with vitriolic anger, even laying words straight out on the table, as clear as clear can be, direct, unclothed in any kind of subtlety, nothing works, nothing ever works. The only thing that *works* is agreeing, essentially not saying anything real about myself. Not being seen. and if you can't see me can you really love me? I don't think so. and I bet she feels the same way...not seen. so sad, so, so, so sad.
I really, really, really hope and pray that my daughters feel that I *see* them, not perfectly I'm sure, but that they know in their hearts, that I try, I've always tried, that it's important to me that I *see* them for who they are...who they are, just them, not what I want them to be, or what anyone else *wants* them to be, but for their beautiful, wondrous, miraculous essences that I have been blessed to share my life with. I hope that some part of them knows, believes that.
A dog-eared food-stained book rests on a shelf...Edward Espe Brown's The Tassajara Bread Book (Berkeley: Shambala, 1970). Always close at hand, no longer for the recipes, but for a poem/tome after the introduction. A gift to my real life partner from my friend, A, inscribed in her characteristicly rounded print-writing that I'd still recognize anywhere as A's : "Yummy people deserve yummy food!"
This poem, these words, are core for us, pretty much says it all, I feel. Read at weddings, first by my partner in the early 1980s at his close-work-friend's ceremony, and more recently by both of us at our youngest daughter's nuptials.
A Composite of Kitchen Necessities
Edward Espe Brown
pp 2-3, The Tassajara Bread Book (Berkeley: Shambala Publications, 1970)
Bringing food alive with your
To have compassion, to have respect
for fresh foods, for broken bowls,
for dirty napkins, and little bugs.
To take care of leftovers,
not saying, oh that's all right, we have plenty
we can throw that away.
Because everything is saying love me,
have compassion, hold me gently.
Please hug me now and then
(we're really one, not two),
but don't get attached
(we're really two, not one).
The bowls and knives, the table, the teapot,
the leftovers, the molding vegetables,
the juicy fruit,
everything is asking this of you:
make full use,
take loving care
The cups, the glasses, the sponges,
the sticky honey jar,
all asking to fulfill.
Just to make deepest love all the time,
Concentrating not on the food, but on yourself:
making your best effort to allow things
to fulfill their functions. In this way
everything is deliciously full of warmth and kindness.
I never would have done this without TASSAJARA.
I have never cooked like this away from Tassajara.
Coming from the Earth, returning to the Earth,
transformed and transforming the material spirit:
I am consumed.
If you must cook,
please offer yourself
a substantial piece of emptiness
Hold back nothing,
until you experience offering,
"Eat me! and be nourished."
Homage to the Perfection of Wisdom,
the Infinite, the Holy:
everything is leading you, pushing you,
instructing you, bugging you to supreme,
perfect enlightenment. This means
there are no mistakes. You might do it
differently next time, but that's because
you did it this way this time.
Perfect, even if you say
too much this too little that.
It's you and please be yourself.
Feels good. O.K.?
Cooking is not simply in the tongue,
in the palate.
It is in the whole body
flowing out of the groin and chest
through arms and hands.
I have to remind myself of that message about "perfection"...over and over again.
And, again, hours have gone by and still nothing done on my research. But it's ok. This sharing is good too. And articulating ideas, feelings important to me.
hold me gently
please, oh, please, hug me now and then