On Being A "Chatty Cathy"

I'll admit it, I rely on talking, historically, quite a bit, and my friends will say I'm going easy on myself by putting it that way. Fact is, these days, I'd rather listen. Perhaps as I approach age 60, my mind is undergoing some changes; at any rate, I often find that talking can be very hard mental work. That's because as I interact, now that I'm a little better attuned to the signals I get from my interlocutors, I now more easily detect signs that I can't run this talk "my way," that I've gotta make it shorter and sweeter than I was starting to, or I'll lose this person's support, if not her full attention. And these days, honestly, I care more about HER attention than his, meaning my buddies that I spend time with. Why? Because I'm feeling fully available these days, and I don't mean vis-à-vis guys, no I'm looking for what the French call "une amie." And the person I'd most like to get really close to appears NOT to be a big fan of talking, certainly not at length. So I really have to master this art, particularly the part about coping with so-called "awkward silences," and "pregnant pauses." It's more about being comfortable in your own skin, I think, than anything else, and I'm on a quest to master this thing.

But I really enjoy spending time talking with good friends, and some of them are an absolute delight to gab with, and I have a particular few buddies who really make it worthwhile. However, this can be bittersweet, because some folks appear to have a penchant for even longer stem-winders than me, and they're not apparently conscious of the same kinds of "conversational decorum," I guess you'd say, as I clearly now am. This refers to such things as talking on the (cell)phone, and I guess this started to become an issue for me with the advent of mobile phones, since I only rarely spent much time on the phone with anyone, and that would usually be a relative or parent. With cellphones, we're ON the phone more often than we were before, I think. The phones, at least the ones I've had, are small (I don't have a smartphone, can't afford it), thus difficult to cradle between head and shoulder, so unless the headset is in use, one arm is taken up, and the ear starts to get sore after a while. So, I've changed: I now avoid lengthy phone conversations, and have started to develop some mini-diplomatic skills around ending talks that start growing long teeth.

But one friend, whom I honestly love dearly (real men can easily admit this), is starting to pose problems for me as a listener. Generally, meaning during ALL our talks. I kind of don't like me when I'm getting antsy and cutting in on him, trying to leap ahead to the point, finishing thoughts for him, because he's "gifted-smart," and my doing this is rude and presumptuous. Furthermore I'm often wrong about the point he's trying to make when I nudge at him. A solution may perhaps be found in the theory I've started to develop that says, "Al, you'll be a much better friend to this guy, especially in conversation with him, if you can get him to try to modify the level of detail that he's always ready to dive into, which is a HIGH level." And I think of this guy, and he HAS actually replied to me (when I was already starting to fumble with trying to moderate his talking): "Well, Al, if you didn't want to hear what I thought about this, why'd you ask me about it?" But still, just today, I was having a private side-conversation with myself as I listened to him, where I said to me "Yes, I DID ask about that, but I don't need to hear ALL the sociological and historical details going back to the last century ABOUT that. I wish he'd give me ONE point -- THAT HE REALLY CARES ABOUT -- and give it short and sweet, and then wait, and explore my reply to see if I want more." 

Yes! I DO believe that's the answer. I'm grown-up enough now to be able to say to my friend, "Buddy, sometimes you wear me out with all those details, it's too far into the weeds. Together, toGEther, mind you, let's practice the short first answer, then listen for further interest; if there's none, let's move on, or shut up." That's respectful, not too harsh. Ok, I'm gonna start gettin' ready to deliver that one. Happy Thanksgiving, folks!!!!

Silver Linings

Dunno how this post will turn out, but I have some inspiration, so that would be the right time to do this.... Got to move on to the next phase, as I've posted quite recently, which means quite literally that I have to move somewhere else, somewhere new. Moving is no picnic, but since starting the work, packing, hauling, and unloading a portion of all that STUFF, I started to see -- again, NOT for the first time -- that we all have to work certain tasks until they're truly complete, until the lessons are truly learned. So...., somehow, I'm looking forward to this move, seeing the possibilities of satisfaction at finally taking care of this unfinished business I've got. There are various kinds of unfinished business on my mind which I'm discussing here, so this is a bit of the theme of this post: silver linings via moving on in ways unplanned but necessary and healthy. 

In the summer, family gathered here where I've been living, and for me, an idea came about that we might ALL be able to live here, which is still an enticing idea, it's an awesome location, and these are great people (I acknowledge my obvious bias). But one factor, if not a lynchpin idea, was that I'd still be living right here. Well, now: no. I'm a bit sad about that because it's a very sweet idea, seriously. So at this point I've come around to the view that even though I'm not going to be here, one can't really predict anything, so I think my sadness isn't going to seep down too deep, I think a very much better day is on its way, in fact I'm convinced of it. Why? Because for a fairly good while now, even though things have involved a fair amount of struggle for me, I really do detect a guiding hand of a spiritual nature, something ineffable but great, and I believe I'm learning how NOT to resist it merely since it's not MY plan. 

One other thing: I now see more and more clearly that, we people misunderstand each other a LOT, and of course we suffer as a result. Sometimes great psychic suffering. I like Gibran's answer that (my paraphrase) suffering and tears are for hollowing out the soul for joy, that's what this all feels like. And I know that because my experiences where "stuff like that" happens are starting to accumulate, there's a kind of hopeful, déja vu effect. It's kind of like when reading and you feel a tug to go look up a word, but you read on and glean the meaning from context, except this is at the level of significant life experience, you know, as it's actually happening. Now that's pretty new, for ME, anyway, and I think it's very good!  I think my friend John C says "namaste" at such times. Hey, cheers, folks!!!!

Time's come to move on, once again. Not happy about it, moving's a pain, supposedly one of life's traumas. In fact, I've never liked doing it, so God must be taking me through the lesson about it, again: "LEARN how to do this" and "STOP fighting me!!" I figure that's pretty much it. There's a great blog that just got started a short few months ago, authored by a FB friend who's also a current student at my prep school alma mater, called "Brownsville To Concord" [http://brownsville2concord.com/]. This writer is bringing great inspiration to me, and probably is responsible for sparking me to put this one up. She has just been writing about grades, and the students there receive "warning grades" mid-term, to let them exert some control over making improvements if warranted. Me, I remember not doing too great the first couple of years, no way was I used to so much focused living, on academics, sports, and on interacting with so many smart, dynamic people for months -- where I grew up, things were a lot more idyllic than intense -- and without virtually ANY tv. What a wonder that I got swept up in all that activity, and in retrospect, despite quite a bit of fear and misery, I kind of forgot about the old, much more easygoing life at home I'd been so used to. 
But now, I have to move on, move out, and I'm almost blithely facing having to find a new living place with very sparse resources. What's remarkable is the feeling of .... almost confidence that the next outcomes and the next phase will be acceptable, and eventually sensible. I can't know that, of course, and some things ahead may be mighty unpleasant, but still, it feels like I've paid some sort of "dues" at this juncture, where dread about the unknown, and unease concerning the "normal" uncertainties of what's coming just don't resonate in me as they once did powerfully. The things that are happening now make some kind of sense, as much as I'd like them to have a different character. Perhaps the central lesson is about surrender. Well, I've seen THAT before, I know something useful about that, such as looking for a "right attitude." I can do that.

The world can be a very hard place. That's the word I want: HARD, for when there's a coldness, a lack of love, a judgement against you, and there are only a few things you can do. This is the kind of situation when you're pushed to react in anger, and yet you know that's not the right, or even productive response. So, "rising above" it is the response I need. That expression has an interesting history with me, although brief, but perhaps profound. It was a favorite expression of my mother's, and I think she meant something different from turning a blind eye, instead it was much closer to "turning the other cheek." I had a lot of trouble with that idea from the gospels: how is that any kind of solution for cruelty? Emmet Fox led me to conclude that Jesus meant, by "turning the other cheek," that the best way to answer harshness or enmity is to go into prayer, literally, internally, and focus your mind and heart on God's presence, instead of on the threat and the threatener. Not ignore, but go to the prayer-place instead of the panicky, fearful place. Not easy, at all, and I hardly know how, but I do have a clue; here's why: The greatest thing that ever happens to us, I believe, is when we perceive and detect God's presence. There, I said it. I don't want to play cat and mouse anymore, this is a blog that I read and perhaps a few others do, I can't say anything more valuable than that. So when you turn your other cheek in this sense, in the face of a threat, Jesus is telling you that God allies with you AND with your threatener to change EVERYone's thinking and feeling state, and a much better place is reached, by all. We ALL rise above. I believe it, although I'm often VERY uncertain about how to proceed to get this done, especially when I'm in the midst of panic at BEING threatened. The answer, I think, comes back again to prayer, and the practice of it. Nothing could be more important, and nothing has ever been more "slippery" for me, quite ironically, meaning sometimes I'm in utter despair at how badly I seem to do this thing, or handle this stuff. But perhaps that's a good, practical basis for cultivation of the other "side of the coin" in this matter, namely FAITH -- the idea that as much as I despair at my own apparent failings, my faith is built on my willingness to keep trying, again and again.
[Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.] And my God proves his faithfulness to me again and again, if I will just look, see, and feel. I am better at this than I once was. That's very important evidence for me! Partly, I discern that it's being said that prayer, and one's ability to "rise above" is powered by the depth of one's faith. To me, that's pretty profound. Certainly worth further pondering, AND action.

Why, oh why, do I keep DOing this stuff??!! 

Talkin' 'bout goofing up pool maintenance. Started filling the pool up a while ago, due to an apparent leak, I thought, from the filter, but naooo....! Remember when you learned about what a siphon was, as a kid, how it worked?! Well my leak problems are quite hilariously self-inflicted it turns out, since I've siphoned away a third of my pool water, by leaving the FILL hose IN!! My Dad showed me how a siphon worked, years ago, and of course we all know about the water-level-thing, but I guess I didn't understand the physics well enough, because I thought if I left that hose IN, although not connected to the spigot, that there would be no siphoning action, but WRONG (sound "WRONG" buzzer)! I guess a factor was that when I detached the hose from the spigot, it must have had sufficient water in it still so the flow reversed, and I've been emptying the thing for a couple of days now. Why does such comical stuff happen to me? As in "Why me, Lord??!!" [Cue thunderous voice from somewhere snarling, "Because sumpin' 'bout you just &()*&s me off!!!"] Admittedly old joke, but it always gives me at least a chuckle. Ok, fillin' the pool back up now, wonder how long THIS is gonna take??

Recent Dreams & Revelations

My magnificent daughter gave me a dream journal, a slender blue carnet that's wire-bound. I haven't put that much in it, but historically, I don't remember much of my dreams. One stuck out pretty pronouncedly in the last few days. I'm afraid it has dimmed somewhat, but thinking about it does seem to bring it back to some extent, and I feel I owe myself the effort to haul the broad strokes to the surface, as much as possible (amap, like asap).
       
I'm dealing with some deterioration problems on my beloved car (I think I once named it Buster, but I'm not totally sure....it'll do), so, in a way similar to seeing in my mind's eye highway stripes after a long drive, or daunting moguls -- with my skis crossed of course -- down the slope after skiing, I was seeing out Buster's windshield the table legs of my antique Duncan Phyfe dining room table, rigged with some sort of tires/wheels, instead of a front hood, as I drove along normally. It was a rig reminiscent of the Bat-mobile, somehow. Despite my consternation in the dream at this sight, the stalwart Buster surged along smoothly, like its usual chariot-like self, unperturbed. I had unloaded (sold when possible) quite a number of furniture items during the course of last year, when I moved out of my apartment, in my building I had to sell. I'd moved out because I couldn't even afford to live there, I'm so NOT a real estate tycoon. The building is sold, and I'm liberated in many ways, praise the Lord!!!! But not everything was sold, and I have that three-piece dining room table HERE in my apartment. I was instructed by my mother that this table was one of the most valuable antiques we owned. I saw some documentation to the effect that 40 years ago, it was valued at $1,500. Apparently the two main panels were sister pieces cut from a walnut tree, 29 inches wide, which are BIG boards for walnut.  Too bad there’s not much of a market for antiques these days, but I haven’t given up yet. However, the worst that could happen is I could get to keep it! But this is why the table has been on my mind. Since the car is also of current concern, that’s an interesting combination of things in my subconscious.

The other part of the dream had me seemingly applying for work, and taking tests of some sort, so there were “office people” around, administering these tests to me. My experience was as if I had been drugged, so that I couldn’t perform the tasks involved, and couldn’t articulate what I needed, but there was also a haunting sense that my ineptitude was all part of “The Plan,” and the real purpose of my being there was so that I would eventually comprehend my vast unsuitability for whatever kind of work this was, and these people were trying to demonstrate this to me, perhaps with subtlety, perhaps not, I think sniggering could be detected. Well, I’m looking for work these days, and, for now, I’m going to suppose that my subconscious wishes for me that I will avoid dropping myself in the sort of “jackpot” of misery I’ve plunged into all too many bloody times, as the Brits would say. Halelujah, I’m WARNED!

Well, the beloved family has now dispersed back to Southern Wilds, namely Memphis town, leaving this Granpa with the Granma, although we's no longer married. She's in the other part of the house, HER house, I'm in the apartment. Tryin' to generally get it together to find work, delighted to have had time this week with the unbelievably adorable grand-baby, Lucy, her magnificent Mum (my Corinna), and the great Andy, son-in-law and sage of things do-able, the Papa. Grandma V's a peach, endlessly fascinating, I'm very glad we're friends.

Now I've prepared the playlist for my blues broadcast tomorrow [The Likwidal Edition of The (Saturday) Evenin' Sun blues broadcast], time to settle into winding down for the evening.

Having family here was great. Some downright Spiritual moments, especially when with Lucy, the Princess of Perfection. No doubts whatever as to my role as Granpa, just do everything possible to love her. As with daughter Corinna, always. The little girl likes my SONG! -- NOthing could be groovier!

Also thinking about my musical gig in a month, at Andy's Old Port Pub in Portland, 8-19-13. Looking greatly forward to playing, performing. Rehearsing, too. With two buds, Erlon & Alec: separate sets. Want to add CPR's "Little Blind Fish" and maybe a couple of my favorite Jackson Browne tunes (Song For Adam, and Something Fine) to my set with Erl. Hard songs in Alec's set: "Autumn Leaves" (Clapton's version), and we should get "Girl From Ipanema" done in time for the 19th. Great tunes, though. Liking that I'm getting some of the harder but greatly desired tunes under my belt, and that such things are getting easier. (Keys instructor) Warren is a blessing, so easy to learn from, such an inspiring musician AND person!!!!

Final reflection for the day: only taint on the week was some turbulence in the family, and I don't like that there's not much I can do about it. Two parties are currently incompatico, and not sayin' -- either one -- that they're ready to work on it or compromise. They're both like inadvertent airline pilots who need talkin' down, and they're in separate planes, wanting the same runway at the same moment. I don't know how to engineer their willingness to accept the control tower's directions. No one does, I don't think. So it's wait and see.

Stuff That's Happening

The biggest practical problem is my sleep or waking-cycle: typically until noon or later. That’s right, the Erma Bombeck cracks about her adolescent son come to mind immediately. Well, that’s what I am, but at age 59, I do not have almost ANY of that kid’s advantages, certainly not the youth and presumed fitness. Now, I think my doing this writing IS part of a plan for me, because it’s certainly a good way I can put to use all the mental energy that fills my mind all the time. In other words, I “approve” of writing, and who says doing what seems spiritually right couldn’t involve any collaboration, of the “do it MY way” kind. Well, I’ve thoroughly romanticized the idea of writing as the “Golden Thread,” – not the concept in jurisprudence, but the “how do I get OUT of here once I’m finished?” thread needed by Theseus to find his way back out of the labrynth after slaying the Minotaur. And there’s a sense that if I spend some time this way, writing about what’s really going on, it’ll help me solve some of these problems. I might even improve my writing. Continuing, my apartment, here in Veronica’s house, has no electricity since I can’t afford the $250 deposit the power company now wants due to my two previous disconnections in a twelve-month period. I applied for Food Stamps, on the good advice of a friend, and I’m getting $200 per month in Food Assistance, and all I can say is, I’m glad of it, I had to do some legwork to get it, and I need it. I do get some income, as a result of the sale of my apartment building in Portland, but it ain’t too much in terms of living standards: a few hundred dollars per month. I had let myself get talked into the purchase just after my divorce by supposed “friends,” a collection of them, who saw a great opportunity for ….. THEM, as I see it all, in retrospect, and I surely acted the part of the unwitting sucker, but my REAL best interests were not well looked after, given where I’m at now. Still, this continues to prove to be a magnificent existence here on earth, if I'm honest. But with respect to electrical power, thank God I can borrow from my ex, Veronica, and since I got the General Assistance money I was granted by the Selectmen of my town sent to HER, I feel it’s ok to use some of her power, as long as I leave only a tiny “FOOTPRINT,” and I’m trying mightily to do exactly that. For example, I’m testing my computie’s battery power now to do this writing.

First entry: Al's Right NOW!!!!

Right Now

is the name of this blog I’ve decided to begin writing today, when I’m arguably at the height of my human “powers,” and having a devil of a time acting like it. That’s because, although I have somewhat managed, recently, to lower the level of the overall stakes in my life, they’re still pretty high up there in light of my internal pressure gauge: there’re are a lot of things I’m not handling very well. The major ones are employment, thus finances, and the rest are all relatively minor where progress is needed. The major positives, however are my spiritual health, as I think I’m starting to “get it,” at least a bit, and although I’m in terrible shape physically, still I think I’m finally able to put to use my “fear of God” in order to do something about that.

     Let’s see, I’ve got a pool (above-ground, 18,000 gallons, far as I know) to open up, which is filled with tadpoles, and a lot of leaves from last fall (for myself I’ll say that many came into the pool since I did my best winterizing it in October/November last year, so it’s not like I just left it like that – an effort WAS made). The water’s kind of green as you might imagine. Plus I’ve got a good four hours of lawn-mowing to do; fortunately, my neighbor Steve, a gifted motorhead by trade, has revived the mower which captures clippings in a bag, obviating extensive raking of clippings, which reduces overall effort. Thank GOD I like mowing!

Right now, it’s raining again, and I’m so tired of this Pacific Northwest (seemingly constant) precipitation pattern we seem to have acquired in Maine, it’s very easy for me to get dispirited about the outside work on my agenda – not my favorite thing anyway. But the ex-wife AND the beloved Daughter, plus the very interesting PhD son-in-law, AND the beautIFicent granddaughter (five months plus) all arrive in about a month, and I STRONGly wish NOT to demonstrate, when they arrive, the kind of total incapacitation disaster that is starting to have good potential for materializing right (about) now.