a few days makes. I’d like to tell you someone remarkable has happened — I’m ready to sail round the world or leap tall buildings in a single bound, but no, alas, I’m just no longer afraid of the noise my cat makes in the kitchen when I’m not looking.

The only situational change or event I can pinpoint is that I’ve begun to see that Mark really treats me with vagueness — I don’t do well with that. I need definition and structure in some parts of my life because my values are no longer fluid and I respect the wishes and feelings of others; if I didn’t — I suppose I wouldn’t care and I could just go on doing whatever I damn well pleased having my cake and my cupcake, too.

Demanding far more than my share of loyalty and love — and giving only promises in return.

So, my sponsor suggested no contact. Not the first time she’s made that suggestion. But Billy also told me I used him — I only called him when Mark blew me off and that stung with a note of too much truth.

So I ran and I thought and I mused and I read and I cleaned and I realized that might have been true at some point in time. But it wasn’t now — now I called Billy first. Now I got up at 5:30 am on Sat am willingly to meet him for breakfast not because I was helping him out with a ride and that was good for me to do service work and get out of my head.

“I don’t have to attend every argument I’m invited to. ~Author Unknown”

A friend of mine commented to me the other day, “we don’t argue.” And I replied, “of course not, what’s the point?”

Not to say that I do not have opinions and well developed opinions which I am more than willing to share, however, I simply do not believe everyone must believe as I do. Why argue? Life is short; I accept another person’s right to have their own opinions.

Perhaps it’s age, or maybe exhastion with a dash of apathy that has given me the ability to not take it personally when someone doesn’t agree with me.  Or, maybe it’s some strange symptom of humility.  A light didn’t shine lovingly on may face one day and grace me with the compassion to accept another’s point of view; slowly I believe I understood that other people had the same human right that I did to have an opinion.

The conversation clearly arose out of my friend’s frustration with his dame du jour.  They argue.  As if that’s a productive use of time when dating someone?  Dating is dating for a reason — communicate — however, as in any negotiation, one must know what the deal breakers are.  For me, I suppose, it would be someone who refused to accept that I didn’t agree with them and continued to try and, “change my mind.”  Good luck with that.

Getting tangled in one of those antagonistic, argumentative relationships for me is really simply a diversion.  I’m not alone.  Maybe it makes me feel important because some cares enough about me to argue with me and try and change my mind — hah!

Enough.

I am studying with a spiritual advisor.  One of my last optional assignments was Herman Hesse’s, “Siddhartha.”

It’s  a lovely read and truly elegant depiction of the path of spiritual enlightment leading toward perfection as defined in the buddihst tradition.  I suppose that is why it is so often referenced and re-written.  Kerouac (On the Road) wrote the biography of Siddhartha Gautama (Gautama the Buddha) in, “Wake Up,” examining his understanding of the buddhist teachings.

Having read both novels I find it interesting that the stories surround the individual’s search for meaning which manifests in very similar incidents, however, is perceived so drastically different due to the natal starting point; that is, the class-based, education and spiritual learning of the individuals in question.

So, yes, I was wounded beyond belief and cast off the friendship canoe faster than day old fish. But, as luck would have it, I am resourceful and a bit flaky – so, at long last I stopped living in the shadow of my canadian chum and moved onward to endeavor upon a new path to personal freedom: the gym.

I have a trainer; I have a schedule.  I often choose to ignore both of the things but now I at least have them.

I cleaned my house from top to bottom.  I bonded with my cat.  (I think he preferred being distant – I know part of me does.)

It was a holiday extravaganza, so I baked lots of cookies and went, alone, to quite a few holiday parties. I’ll say, most certainly, that New Years Eve was the end of that for me.  I think that rule that I had about dating for only the right reasons should include holiday parties, particularly when your ex is invited to the same party you are and he brings his new girlfriend.

I began to hover around my other friends in a pathetic, hopeless way that indicated I was in need of an intervention.  Please, would someone tell me that I can stop pretending to be “okay” about all this nonsense?

I went on a date.  Sigh.  Here, again and again.

Sometimes the things in my life don’t have much meaning unless I have people to share them with.  So, off I go … to experience life and I’ll be back to share it with you later.

Amy and I talked about the concept of charity in Sunday’s class, not simply in the financial sense, but in the emotional, psychical sense – that is, giving people the benefit of the doubt, giving of the heart, mind and spirit. It’s a concept that is fairly common in Eastern philosophy (buddism, the tao).

What I’ve always considered interesting is that I find it much easier to give than to receive, but have only begun to understand, intuitively, that receiving is, in part, the gift. The allowing myself to accept help allows someone to give. I remember my great-aunt Nadine telling me once if I didn’t accept her gift, it would hurt her. I thought, for years, this was an attempt at italian guilt, but I realized later that there is a freedom and a love found in giving that is like nothing else – and if I didn’t, in that moment receive; she couldn’t experience the joy of giving. Forgive the dialogue, however, it’s been an eye-opener to realize that in receiving, if I allow myself, I can experience giving.

Today, our company has twins. Really, a woman in our small company gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl, happy, healthy. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief – the pregnancy was a little risky – she’s 36, artificially inseminated, having twins … but everyone is so healthy.

I’ve been friends with someone for about three years and for the past weeks we’ve been at a stand off. If it were one of those old western’s my friend would have clanked down a dusty dirt road in spurs and then … puked.  Yep.  He could stomach emotional confusion so he cut and run … with a few we chosen words I sent a 200 pound man scurrying across the northern boarder of the US.

I finally called him out on Saturday and explained to him that women have a different, more spiritual understanding of Love; love is friendship, love is concerning yourself with someone else’s spiritual development.  But all he saw in that letter was, “I love you,” and he went speeding up the western side of lake michigan.

What’s the problem?  The  problem, my friends, is that he was able to leave, no thought, no regard and never contact me again. Twas I who re-opened communication when he returned; twas I who took all the risk.  And for that risk I’ve done gotten my pride squished like a grape, but, I’ve been honest, and I’m being honest with you that I am hurt — I was discarded as carelessly as yesterday’s kitty litter.

To add a little insult to injury, I realized, of course, I had placed myself in a position to be hurt.  I had expected far too much from my friend – expected him to somehow remain frozen in time at a place in life when we both needed each other to see the truth in ourselves.

For he has an essential gentility and creativity that he hides deep within his dreaded self – a side that plays the guitar when no one is looking, a side that appreciates the simple, elegant lines and the clean smell of fresh pine.

As I have an essential ferocity that creeps, lurks, through the recesses of my mind that hunts pray and plans revenge.