Lilacs and Auld Lang Zein

For my birthday this year I received a Persian Lilac tree from a friend. At first, it was a scruffulous thing, bearing leaves at the ends of two branches that were more like twigs. I found a nice spot for the pot and started watering and talking to the tree. A few days ago it expressed appreciation by bearing a few tiny, persian-pink, aromatic flowers.

This morning I went out to see my little tree, and the flowers, for now, have gone. I wrote this poem a couple of years ago, and thought I'd post it in celebration.


Lilacs and Auld Lang Zein

I am dreaming of the New Year
and a diner full of someones
the radio low
playing that song
that we all recognize
but few know
piano and cello
tenor saxophone
flute and bass
and my
and many voices
around me straining
to touch that tune so old and full
of mystery and memory and longing

I sing and move, breathing the music,
for the sake of years and moments gone and to come
and for losses and gains and the sense
that there is was will be no difference
I feel each note held and offered as a gift
and know that this choir of
thankfulness for everything
that ever was and ever could be
is a blessing from me for me to breathe like the
scent of lilacs that presses into me from everywhere
So I breathe deep and slow and move and sing

Arms about me fall from behind
smooth sure sqeeze and relax
hands fold across my solar plexus
steadying press of breasts
into my back and chin come to
rest light and high
on the ball of my left shoulder
I sing and feel the change
as tenor alto becomes a wide warm wave
through this unison me become harmonic us
I feel music humming from a mouth
not my own but now part of me
washing into the bones of my shoulder
through the muscles of my neck
coming from my own mouth
reflected blended refractions of our voice
passed between us through us
warmer from and for the song,

We move, slowly, forward
toward the end of the counter
singing and listening to us
and to the quality of other future histories held
as wine to only be tasted this once
and never forgotten,
so many voices, rainbows of memories playing across
tone and inflection, fields of sound crossing and creating
patterns of soft nostalgia and warm desire surrounding a glowing peace
that I can almost see
I am soul full and wide open and so much
will not translate
to being there with merely a note between
me and us and all
and as
The chorus lets go it's last
slowing and paling like fading lilacs
and the year is new
I turned my head to the left just enough
to see your chin and nose and breaking smile
and I know who holds me

I place wondering lips
to the border where your cheek
becomes your chin
Just where I have a small mole on mine
Cool textures of messages pass between us
the pores of your skin
draw my left eye into it's own
caress of vision
mottled shades of color, ivory and rose
Touch, time-stop, release fast
so I can smile my knowing
and feel it's meaning change me
I laugh in my surprise
and the sound wakes me

I look thorugh the morning window
And see that my lilac trees
only have green for me now
the flowers have gone
A new year begun
I hum the song…

All I Want

I've been talking to friends, and reading a lot about people's self-definitions, and their search for fulfilling friends, lovers, and life-partners. In my experience, I have found that I cannot possibly be happy unless I understand and accept myself first. The more honest I am with myself, the better I know myself, changes (for the better) the kind of people who show up in my life - this has never failed me. Right now, I know some really excellent people- and you know who you are!

Anyway...

Since my divorce is final, some things that have been put on hold are now coming forward - they have been for a long time, but I'm going to be making more of a priority of what I want to see happen in my life. So many doors have closed, and I'm not complaining, those doors hanging open created a lot of confusion and pain in my life that I just didn't need So, now that my choices are more clear, I'm just gonna step up and dump my demands for mo' betta' happiness right out onto the table. I enjoy being me, and I enjoy other people who can be who they are because they love themselves and their lives.

The following is couched in terms of "Man Seeks Woman", and that is true, I'm looking for the lady, whoever she is, but it's more about openly defining the kind of friends and companions that I want in my life - I know I'm going to need to put up with some real trials from time to time, and I can handle that. But this is my list, as it were, my Nausicaa.

I'm looking for a friend; a soulmate, a partner, a singer, a lover of life.

Who I am:

I am 40 years old, 5'11", about 190 pounds, which, for me is about 25 pounds overweight (Going to the gym starting Monday- the kids are back in school!) I have had bad vision since I was born - it keeps me from flying competition jet aircraft and driving solo road-trips, but it has provided as many opportunities for me as it has limited. Because I was a long-time drug user, I have bad teeth. That's a difficult thing to admit in this world where pearly whites are a standard not to be messed with. When I'm able to get them fixed, I will - in the meantime, it helps keep the shallow folks at bay. I had a vascectomy several years ago, so no more children for me (like I need a few more.) I am strong, agile, and I can yell louder than most mothers I know. The last time my IQ was measured (I took a few tests over the last year), I averaged in the 140s- not to brag, I'm just glad that my bad habits didn't do me any more brain-damage than they have. I am funny, and sometimes overbearing- anybody who has spent time with me in life or on the boards knows that; I try to keep myself from becoming a nuisance, and am learning to do better. :)

I am in touch with my feminine side, and I like it. I have been called a male lesbian, a metro-sexual, a new-age man, and other things that I won't put here because they're not very nice. I enjoy the company of men who don't need to prove how manly they are. I could care less about pro sports or NASCAR- I'll watch and enjoy with friends who do love those things, but the stuff will just drift out my head shortly thereafter. My policy is that I'll learn from anyone I can, teach anyone who wants me to, and not feel threatened or superior in any case. My favorite color is black.

I am pedantic - I talk too much - I am easily distracted by scents and things that strike me as beautiful. I don't like ice cream, and I don't like chocolate unless it's really good chocolate.

As a sexual person, I would consider myself to be a passionate conservative- to me sex should be fun, but not dangerous. There is pleasure in pain, I understand, but that's a situation where more is definitely less. My sex-analogy is this; life is a giant carrot-cake (oh, yeah, I LOVE carrot cake), love is the icing (creme cheese, please), and sex is the sprinkles and extra stuff that makes it more esthetic, more tasty.

I am the single parent of six wonderful childrren. I put my career as a systems analyst on hold to make sure my kids have the home and love they need to grow up healthy and happy, and found my next career as a teacher. I am a stay-at-home-musician, I play guitar, drums, keyboards, hand-drums, I sing, and I write. I often catch myself lecturing my kids when they only need a little guidance. I get passive-agressive when I'm tired and or stressed out - I'm working on that. I also get grumpy if I sleep too much (hah! How often does THAT happen anymore?)

I am divorced! (woohoo!) after fifteen years of marriage and over five years of separation. I am loyal and caring, intelligent, innovative, hard-working, slightly neurotic, and most definitely too smart for my own good sometimes. I see every day as a miracle.

As the father of a small army of children, I have learned (am learning) to
be organized and constantly compromising and changing plans and balancing
resources to fit their needs and wants. It isn't easy, but it's the
best, most continuously rewarding job I've ever had. I can do anything, because I know I may have to do anything, every day.

I love music of ALL kinds, but dislike American-pop-pie radio. I
LOVE Radio Paradise!! I love sushi, movies, and reading. I am a friend to the mystic
ganja, but not a servant to it. I drink friendly wines and good beer
occasionally, and I know how much is enough. I dislike television,
violence, and drama-centric people. I love to talk about ideas, I
dislike arguing over politics or anything else, for that matter. I
enjoy talking and learning about spirituality and comparative religion, I
dislike finding fault with anyone for their beliefs. I have a quick,
kind of dry sense of humor, but I have been known to make my friends (and my
kids) laugh until we're all sick with it. :) I want a simple, peaceful
life, a life without conflict, a life that I can leave someday knowing
that I have done well, and given my best to those who will remain when I'm gone.

I smoke cigarettes, and have for a long time - I'm still pretty healthy, but I need to quit, and am working on it. I love good coffee - please do not sneak Folgers into anything that I must touch. I love garlic-stuffed olives, smoked oysters broiled in jabenero sauce, tempe, and anything you can think of that's made with a cooked lamb. I will happily eat anything raw that is grown in a garden (well, not beets, but I'll eat them cooked.) And, most importantly, I love the miraculous SysCo coffee and the greasy SysCo food they serve at the Fleetwood Diner at the corener of Ashley and Liberty, in Ann Arbor, MI!! RESPECT!

Who I'm looking for:

I am seeking a bright, shining human being with whom I can share my life and that of my children. when my children are older I want to travel. For now, I want someone to to be a part of the music and exchange of ideas that expresses my love of life. I am looking for osmeone who can find beauty and joy in a simple close family life, but who is independent enough not to unduly sacrifice her own dreams and goals. I want to meet someone who has her own opinions and knowledge, that I might learn to be a better person through her just being herself.

The special lady I am looking for must love children, especially intelligent, precocious children. She
must be interested in learning and teaching by being truly alive and awake. I want someone who understands that choosing to be happy is the road to happiness.

The ability and desire to sing and/or play music is a definite plus, because of the musical talents and nature of my family.

I am not looking for a replacement mom for my kids. They have one who loves them, and has her own place in their lives. I do, however want my children to respect and care for her as a friend, teacher, leader, and protector.

The old addage about "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it." applies, I have been as careful as I can. Now I have to go take care of kids who want all kinds of stuff.

Peace, Love, Light
-b

From the Graveside of My Marriage

"The story of a life begins at the graveside."
-Ursula K. LeGuin

Today I found out that my marriage of almost 16 years has been dissolved after five years of separation. I was going to write something here about all the ups & downs of marriage- but, that all changed, when a person I don't know, someone whom I will call my friend, asked me for some advice about how I came through a such a difficult situation - I will always be thankful to HG for helping me focus on this important day of my life.

Here Goes...

I got married in 1989- she was pregnant, I was ecstatic. We had 5 kids between 1990 and 1998. I worked a LOT - up to 80 hours a week to pay the bills and buy the thrills. She was a stay-at-home mom, with nothing to do but take care of kids, read, listen to NPR, and talk on the phone- I know now that we were both slaves to our own ignorance and the need to do everything "right", she had baby-doll syndrome, and I had the chauvenist attitude that I must be THE MAN and MAKE MONEY and pick up the slack - classic neurotic, me. I made money, worked harder and harder, and made more money. By 1998 I was a network admin at a major university hospital, and I had a web design and a computer systems consulting business on the side. She had 5 kids. We both had an insane load that we could not manage, but did anyway.

Well, that kind of thing takes it's toll after a while. I remember having dreams of juggling things, lots of them, balls and toys and then things would get bigger, lawnmowers, computers, cars, and I would wake up sweating when I dropped something. I quit being me, and started being a - fucking robot. Some of what's below I didn't realize until much later.

I created a persona to be THE MAN, and closed myself off from eveything because I didn't want to admit that I was unhappy, I din't want anyone to know I was unhappy. I didn't write for almost 10 years, nothing mroe than business documents, shallow e-mails, meeting notes, and budgets. I didn't writie poetry, loveletters, commentary, criticism, nothing that would expose me as someone other than who I felt I had to be to survive. I used prescription narcotics like some miserable people use alcohol or outside sex to create the illusion of a life less miserable.

Well, it got so miserable, that finally she started drinking really heavy, smoking pot, staying out late, told me she wanted a divorce because I was impossible, and started having an affair with this guy who, she finally admitted, was the biggest loser she could find to make me hate her and go away. It didn't work - I hung in there for another year and a half, through all kinds of hell, I withstood it and just took more pills to ease the pain- all the time ignorant of how I felt, what I was doing to myself, all I cared about was "saving" her by saving our marriage. I 100% flat-out refused to go to counselling, though.

Anyway, she finally left me with the kids in early 2000, I had to quit my high-paying university job, figured out a way to go on disability and consult from my home to pay the bills, and became Mr. mom. She came back in November of 2000 very pregnant and very sick from the months of using and moving from one guy to the next, one motel room to another- I think she was hooking, but have never been sure. She wanted to give the baby up for adoption to her psychotic sister because it wasn't min- I told her that the idea made me sick, we talked about a lot of things, and I told her I was glad to have her finally home.

Meanwhile, I managed to keep it all in and keep it together- and keep taking pills.
We split up for good on July 10, 2001. I know the date because it was the day after I quit using narcotics for good - it was either stop or just die. Simple. I went to AA meetings and did NA meetings online when I moved from the city to a rural area very shortly after that. After I started going to AA I realized that I knew a lot about the persona that I had worked so hard to keep intact, but I didn't really know who I wanted to be- I did it for "her", for "them", whoever they were- work, family, church (I was raised Mormon - my thoughts about the esoterica of Mormonism can be encapsulated in the statement Jewish guilt and Jesus, too.

I took the kids with me because she had no income or friends or family who would trust her to lend her money. She extracted a promise from me that, if she got it together to provide a place for them that she wanted me to allow her to take the kids so they could have a good life, because it was me who was the only problem. I told her I wanted what was best for the kids - I kept them for three months, set up a nice place for them to live, got them into school, and tried to help as they cried themselves to sleep every night because they missed their mother. Kaity was about 8 months old, and she slept with me every night, on my chest- otherwise, she would cry for hours. It was a very hard time.

About a week after 9/11, I got the phone call that made me face the reality of the promise I had made. I kept it. She came and took the kids on September 25, 2001. I made her promise me that she would care for them, not drink, not use crack, not use men to keep her company, focus on the kids. She promised and I believed her. I wanted the kids to be happy, no matter what, and so, I believed her.

After the kids were gone, I started breaking down badly - I am not an alcoholic, but there were times that I drank a LOT just to get sleep so I could work the next day at the computer store with my brother. He wanted a business, I needed some reason to stay alive. After the initial shock of losing my children, I was probably clinically insane for awhile- medicating myself with marijuana and alcohol (very carefully, I might add - yes, that makes NO sense), but I started to stabilize. My kids were 208 miles away, and I would see them every other weekend. Their mom did a good job of covering her burgeoning alcohol and crack addiction, and she had the kids scared to say anything because "CPS will take you, split you up, and you'll never see your family again." You get the idea, they went through hell.

From September 2001 until almost April 2004 I did not live with my kids. I decided that I had to do something about who I was. I managed to claim disability- I have very bad vision, and am under the wire for being legally blind - I don't drive, but I can do just about anything else. I'm going to learn how to blow glass this fall. A n y w a y. I had enough money to get by- barely.

Being insane, knowing that I was broken very badly inside I started looking EVERYWHERE for inspiration. the first thing I did was to destroy my persona - no more suits, no more pony-tail, no more pager, digital camera, PalmPilot, briefcase, imported cigarettes, fine wine, fine food, blah blah - I let it all go. I took my computer off-line, no phone, no cable TV - I never did start watching TV again. I bought a journal and I wrote. I wrote everything down- everything I thought, everything I felt, everything though I felt. I go back and read parts of them once in awhile - some of it is very painful. For the first time in years, since I got married, actually, I started writing pieces of poems, playing my guitar, losing myself in stream-of-consciousness writing. I also started reading to find not just entertainment or information, but to find inspiration.

Some of the first books I read were:
"Autobiography of a Yogi" by Paramahansa Yogananda
"Your Erroneous Zones" by Wayne Dyer
"The Path to Love" by Deepak Chopra"The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibrahn (which I read in high school, but forgot - so sad I forgot)
"Illusions" by Richard Bach

So much I have known
and ignored
and forgotten
It's a wonder I can breathe
without a string tied
around my finger

I also rediscovered Sam Phillips - or was drawn to her music again, after forgetting.

I swear to you Sammy saved my life - I had about had it- I knew there was a lot "wrong" with me, HUGE mess, I could not fix it - I needed.......... what........

"Broken like a window
I see my blindness now
I need love
not some sentimental prison
I need God
Not a political church
I need fire
to warm this frozen sea inside me
I need love"

And something clicked, I remembered a quote from Kafka "A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul." Not just a book, but art, free expression. And I knew that to be able to freely express, I needed to know myself.

The last couplet of Keats' "Ode On a Grecian Urn" reads

"'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

It kicked me wide open - after seemingly years of self-imposed, loathing and ignorance, I was a weeping child - broken down to a handful of dust and blown away.

I found a little poetry group that met in a coffee shop in downtown Ann Arbor, I had completely quit drinking and smoking pot, I couldn't handle being inebriated in any way - I knew people who drank and got high, no problem, I just could not handle it anymore. I do not like bars to this day.

So, the coffee-shop poetry group were first my teachers, then my friends, and one (in late 2003) became my lover for awhile- we're still great friends, but our lives have moved in different directions.

By late 2002 I was learning how to be happy and sober all at the same time. I kept reading, writing, meditating, seeing my kids, seeing their living conditions deteriorating - I had grown to a point that I lived completely by my spritual connectedness to everything, [i]intuition[/i], if you get my meaning. There were several times when I got so upset at what was going on that I tried to call CPS- phones wouldn't work, voicemail boxes were full, and a voice, my voice inside my head was telling me, in no uncertain terms, that I must let go - WAIT.

Patience was a lesson I never learned well. I had to take a crash course in the art of patience that almost drove me mad again. But I knew that the pain I was feeling, the anger and distress, was there to teach me something.
Everything happens for a reasonI may never knowEverything changespatience connects allbeyond spacethroughout timeThe Void Which Bindsis empathy, compassion, loveand it's voiceis silence

My kids disappeared after Christmas of 2002. I later found out that the kids' mom had run afoul of some bad (drug-dealers) people around town, and was about to be raided by CPS, she packed up the kids, had her mother buy plane tickets, and flew them to Utah - a little later she flew her crackhead boyfriend out there, too. I got a note. It was a blow to me, but something told me this had to happen, I needed to continue to grow and learn, because the kids would need me, and I needed to be ready. I kept reading and writing and playing my guitar and meditating and listening to music for inspiration - I have some journal entries about Tom Waits and Norah Jones and Coldplay and Joni Mitchell and Miles Davis and Ravi Shankar and Cosy Sheridan and FUCK - the list is endless - I have collected more than 20,000 MP3s of music and audio books and lectures that I listen to and love. I dove into myself through others' experiences and ideas, through a search not so much for God, but for that part of me which IS God, I opened my eyes to the connections between everything and everyone and drank from the universe like a hummingbird sips. I think I read over a thousand books between 2000 and 2004. I don't remember most of them, but I feel them there, somewhere in me- I was changed by every page, just a little.

I started seeking out friends again, finding new friends, and reconnecting with my best friend (T), who I've known for most of my life. I got a job as the night residence manager at the YMCA; low-paying, thankless work that involved keeping the residents (many of whom were fresh out of prison, rehab, crackhouses, that kind of thing) from killing each other, bringing in drugs, selling drugs from within the facility. I faced death-threats, abuse, all kinds of mean and nasty things, but I loved that job- I started holding informal AA/NA-type meetings at the frond desk at 3 am, listening to the families of the residents, talking people out of suicide and trying to protect the ones who were trying to get better from the predators who weren't. I learned so much about myself by talking to, and helping those people I cannot express my thankfulness for the time I spent there.

I was asked to join a band, I did. We called ourselves "Sex With Your Mother", (hey, somebody had to do it), and became a short-lived, and (I think) fondly remembered awe-inspiring joke around town. I drank a lot of coffee, wrote, talked all night with my mates, and the lovely and anarchic crowd that hangs around Ann Arbor's Fleetwood diner - got high in the basement by the ice machine, helped out around the place when it was busy, bought homeless crackheads coffe (if they behaved), helped kick out homeless crackheads (if they did not behave), and found myself happy because I was being myself. I started really enjoying life just because I was alive. I started playing my guitar on street corners all over town, not to make money (although I did, sometimes), but because I wanted to be in the world- to speak my truth, to meditate in the marketplace, without being sucked into it. I pictured my children with me, learning from what I had learned, reciprocating and being my teachers. I created in my mind the life I wanted- it didn't matter where I was, I wanted to teach my children to be happy and free, to learn and to grow without fear, and I waited. I called my kids in Utah, talked to them, and knew there were things they weren't telling me. I told them I loved them very much, and I waited.

Sometimes I saw people who used to "know" me, a few asked me what happened - and I could only smile and tell them that I fianally woke up. For the most part, they thought I had lost my mind. And I had, I had lost the mind that my parents had given me, the lies and limitations and hopelessness- it was gone.
In September 2003, (my big bangs happen in September, I guess), I got a call from DCFS in Utah that the kids had disappeared again. Mom had been busted for crystal meth, had been set up with a plan including parenting classes, substance abuse counselling, the normal regimen of programs and services to help someone cope- she packed up the kids and went underground, meth-paranoia and stupid anti-government "friends" convincing her that she was some kind of "target." I prepared for something to happen, and waited.

I didn't hear from her, or my kids, until December of 2003 when my ex (wow, so nice to say that) was arrested and the kids were taken into protective custody. I quit my job, told Anita (sweet woman) that I had to go take care of my children, came to Utah, went to court over-and-over, found a most excellent attorney, and in March 2004 received permanent custody of my children.

I told their mother that, if she wanted a divorce, she would have to do the work- I was busy taking care of the kids. We have talked a lot, gone to a LOT of therapy, my youngest sun is on ritalin, and will be for a couple more years- I see improvement in all of them, but it's slow. They're highly intelligent, artistic, kind-hearted, human beings- my oldest is going into 10th grade will be inducted into the National Honors Society this year - she's geeked. The other kids are doing well, and I just keep doing what I do, I work with them, and I am patient- not like a saint, but patient like an overwhelmed parent - I have my good days, I have my bad days, and I get ugly once in awhile, but I LOVE my job.

Mom got back on meth, got kicked out of her court-ordered recovery programs, went to rehab, got out, has been clean, took care of her court requirements, and has reasonable visitation with the children. She brought me a bullshit set of divorce papers talking about "joint custody", I told her if she wanted it that way she would need a legal team. She brought me a "corrected" set of papers granting me sole custody, and I signed them.

So, that's how I got here.

Now that you've read all this, are you sure you want the advice of somebody like me? I barely made it past my own stupidity.

It took me 37+ years of my life, and much pain to understand what the Buddha meant when he said that "Ignorance is the only true sin, all evil grows from it." Ignorance is so purely personal, that self-knowledge becomes paramount in transcending it.

One thing I have learned is that all those cliches about love that I brushed off as metaphors are not metaphors- the truth of poetry can be clear as a struck bell on a winter morning- bright, painful, joyous like the open heart that cries out the knowledge of mortality and the grace that renders death irrelevant.

These cutesie little sayings:
-Do unto others as you would do unto yourself
-Love is a verb
-The more love you give, the more love there is to give
-Happiness is not a destination, but a road
-The earth is below our feet, heaven is within us
-The voice of God is silent
-Manifestation occurrs through unbending desire tempered by infinite patience
-Truths stand unaided, lies fail all-Choose Again

These among others, are NOT metaphors, they are literal keys to small timeless quanta of enlightenment.

This mass of writing, anything I've said here, all I've learned can be squashed into John Keats' couplet:

"'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

Today, I write from the graveside of my marriage.

That One And Only Smell

There is exactly one building in this county where you can smoke inside. It's called "The One And Only", and if you haven't guessed that it's a bar, well, it's a bar.

This bar is about as big as three doublewide trailers mashed together, is probably built out of three doublewide trailers mashed together, and has aobut as much ventilation as your average boarded-up doublewide trailer. Right after I moved to this shithole ... uh, town... I decided to check out this bar.

I'm a smoker. I smoke about a pack every 1.5-2 days, I never smoke in my house. I do burn a LOT of nag champa incense, so my hair and clothes smell strongly of champa, and somewhat of cigarettes.

So, I go into this bar, and it's a fogbank, bad karaoke, meth-head bartender-chick, meth-head barflies, the usual cowboy-pimp-daddy drunks you see in the rural southwest, and a reek like my outside ash-can after 2 days of rain and a lit butt left on top of the drying debris to smoulder. They have ceiling fans, but I think it's only to give the drunks some entertainment while being drunk. "Wow, man lookathaswirly air! Hey, Hunny, get me another'n woodja?"

I managed to stay in there for 30 minutes, and then just couldn't get out fast enough- I felt sick from the air (and the karaoke.) I've never been back. I drank the worst coffe in the dirtiest cup I've ever seen in that bar - something told me not to touch anything that came out of their tap, and I don't think they had anything in a bottle that wasn't made from Milwaukee river water.

Anyway ...

When I got home that night, I took off my clothes, took 2 long hot showers all mashed together, and went to bed. I woke up in the night smelling something awful, couldn't figure out what it was, it smelled like ... the bar. Then I realized that it was my laundry basket. My clothes, exposed for a half hour, had filled the whole room with that "One And Only Smell" that, even as a smoker, I can never bear to smell again.