I’m in my cathedral at work. Because I usually have a couple of hours with no one in here with me, I can blast heavenly music curated with the intent to inspire or motivate. My cousin Jimmy used to torture me with Metallica, and sometimes with horrible bands like Pantera. Because he’s been on my mind a lot lately, I played a few songs for him and had to laugh. I also played “Far From Home” by Five Finger Death Punch, a song Jimmy didn’t live long enough to enjoy.I ended the set with a heavenly song from Il Divo, probably the most opposite and contrasting music possible. In his last few years, he would have appreciated the switch. And we probably would have laughed about his mullet.
Each of us has had our mullet years, the ones characterized by uncertain identity and our place in this world.
When we get older, we laugh about our mullet years. But nostalgia makes it golden.
Some of you are probably living through the best years of your life and you don’t even realize it.
Take a minute today and crank up one of your favorite songs. If you do, I hope it makes you vibrant and joyous.
If it doesn’t, go ahead and fill out that AARP application.
I woke up around 3 a.m. and could hear the neighbors outside on the landing, their night still in progress.
I retrieved my trusty sheet, put it over my head, and knocked.
“Trick or Treat,” I said. No treats were forthcoming.
My brother Mike would have been 57 today. I don’t know what to say about that. He could have lived another twenty years had his choices been different. If he were alive, I’d prank call him and say, “Good morning, you dumb bast**d!” and then hang up. He’d probably call back and leave a message, “Sew any non-bunching pillows lately?”
The picture is one from Dogpatch: me on the left, Mike, my sister Marsha crouched on the bottom, and my cousin Jimmy on the right. We got to see a lot of things thanks to Jimmy. I restored the faces in the photo. Jimmy’s gone too, but I’ll take a few moments to think about him and my brother today. And I’ll think about my other sister, the one I didn’t know I had for another 40+ years after this picture was taken.
The nostalgia will undoubtedly make me more at peace as the world swirls around me today; my thousands of steps and interactions will remind me of the frozen nature of memory and time.
Each second carries me further away from that moment so many years ago at Dogpatch.
Though I’m not dogmatically religious, I’d like to write an incongruous post that merges the Black Eyed Peas with the Christian Bible.
The aforementioned group has a current hit called “Don’t You Worry.” It’s vibrant, energetic and a call put away your worries and concerns. It’s one of those throwaway songs, full of pop momentum and repetitious lyrics. It’s also delightful in a way that belies its formulaic lyrics. I’m certain they weren’t inspired by a call to remember that control and worry are the provinces of people unfocused on what’s essential to happiness, especially from a spiritual viewpoint.
I have a lot of issues with religious texts. Sometimes though, truth is where you find it.
Whether it is Matthew 6+, or a verse from my favorite book of Ecclesiastes, among several others, one of the essential truths of most religions is that we are forces living inside bodies. And we’re not supposed to be mental prisoners to the outcome of our worries.
Not to ignore them or blindfold yourself; rather, to rejoice at this moment and to dance with joy. It’s something that older people forget to do as if such a thing is only an option for the young.
The Black Eyed Peas song evokes a reaction in me. Something about it strikes a call to action to remember that for everything, there is a time and place. Maybe it’s because I love the book of Ecclesiastes.
And if your head is cluttered with worry and concern, no matter how justified, you might be distracting yourself from the opportunity to remember to live. To give up control and surrender. To dance, sing, and feel the physical world. But not to such a point that you forget that everything that makes your heart sing can’t be quantified.
Ardormorph: the process in which you love yourself and another to find a way to change with the goal of being happy.
If you want to be happy, you have to decide to be.
And then, the hard work.
Most people have a vague idea of what happiness or satisfaction even means. If you want love, you must learn what healthy love looks like.
If you want happiness, your personal life must reflect what you want out of it. It requires self-honesty and focus.
You must learn new habits, skills, and ways of communication.
If this is the last relationship you want to be in, you’re either all in or not. There is no middle ground.
That means forgiveness for being treated poorly and accountability for what you’ve done.
You can’t change what is behind you, nor can your partner.
Learning from it. Not repeating it.
Be tender. Be kind.
Discuss every aspect of what the future will look like. Please don’t shy away from it.
Don’t make your partner pay for mistakes others made in your past. This person is none of those.
It all starts with your commitment to stop trying to do things as you’ve done before. The behaviors weren’t effective, or you’d still be in a previous relationship. It seems obvious to say that.
Most of us keep repeating cycles and behaviors. We can’t do that and find happiness.
It requires change. Understanding. Listening.
Remember, you learn first and apply it afterward.
It starts with change.
In yourself and in the ways you’ve navigated being in love.
Preface: this isn’t about everyday interactions that happen over apps. This is about the personal, one-to-one, and private messages people send with intentions they’d rather keep concealed. There is a vast difference. Often, only the person with hidden intentions or desires knows for sure. People in relationships must be on guard to protect themselves.
It’s also about people who are in love, married or committed. Casual dating is a separate set of expectations and rules. Once you’re committed and monogamous, the expectations morph. The label by which you refer to your relationship isn’t what determines these changes.
I don’t know how to address connections through work or other scenarios adequately. We all know hundreds of stories wherein someone begins to morph a previously business-only exchange into something intimate. That’s what access and proximity do. As Hannibal Lecter quipped, “We covet what we see.” People in relationships need to be aware and prepare for those scenarios too. The most straightforward point to stop it in its tracks is the first time your instincts are triggered. It gets more challenging after that point.
There are a lot of lonely people out there. They have unlimited time and a lot of motivation to make connections. Someone is always going to see something in your partner, whether it is sexual attraction, creativity, or a sense of humor. Some of them will act on it and initiate conversations.
And since I’ve learned these lessons through hypocrisy, my partners will have access to my phone. I don’t have hidden apps, passcodes they don’t know, or anything similar. So if you write me and tell me that you want to eat me alive, my partner could see it.
I’ve been surprised by some great marriages or relationships being imploded because of all this. It only happens when there is a lack of transparency.
If someone reaches out by texting, DMing, or communicating with your partner, that’s normal. It’s no different than someone telling your partner, “Geez, you’re good-looking!” on the street. They might not know your partner is in love or their story. At least that possibly inappropriate or exuberant statement made in public is made in the sunlight openly.
People will cast their nets, take their swing, yolo, and all that. The biological urge toward intimacy and sex is already overwhelming. Apps and cell phones have made such access impossibly easy. What matters is how your partner responds the first time someone does. It reflects everything you need to know about love, respect, and understanding how relationships work in their heads and hearts.
If you’re lucky, neither of you has experienced the agony of being on the wrong side of this. If you have, it leaves scars – and those scars make you suspicious of almost all interactions your partner has. They pay for your previous trauma even when they are behaving appropriately and without concealment.
If they’ve engaged once, much less multiple times, the person trying to insinuate themselves sees an invitation. It’s code. You have to answer the door before someone can get inside.
Access is impossible to control.
Clarity, once it happens, is impossibly simple and elegant. “No thanks.”
A lot of people fail at this point. Whether they are looking for someone else, need validation, or enjoy someone being complimentary, they engage the other person and provide access. It’s not harmless. Just because someone knocks at your door does not mean you need to answer it, much less open it.
It’s a great analogy. “Hello. No, I’m not interested, especially since I’m with someone. But thank you!” That’s perfectly nice and acknowledges the other person – but sets the boundaries.
Imagine if your partner received such unwelcome advances and responded, “Hey, I’ve said no thanks. Does your partner know you’re writing the opposite sex on these apps? Have them call me, and maybe we can be friends.” You know darn well how that would go.
Of course, the texting person’s significant other doesn’t know!
It’s easy to get angry at the other person reaching out to your partner, whether they are in a relationship or not. It is cheating if they are casting nets, even without physical contact. They can deny it all they want. That’s part of the game. They are building a foundation toward intimacy or physical connection. Intimacy, even through the internet, is dangerous to your actual relationship. They’re somewhere in a relationship spending their energy, focus, and time attempting to connect elsewhere. All those comments, jokes, wishes, aspirations, sexual innuendo, and observations? Those could be spent with your actual partner because they are your person and would love to share those interactions with you.
If your partner engages in it, you have to assume they are well aware of the motivations of those doing it. If they are not, take the time to explain it to them – and that it’s hurtful and counterproductive in a committed relationship. It’s hard to imagine in this modern age that someone isn’t aware of the possible hidden agendas of the opposite sex. To be clear, this is NOT always the case. But it so often is. And at the beginning, there is no smoking gun, no direct way to show your partner that you’re right about it. Again, the test is whether that person texting has shared their interactions with their partner: it’s doubtful. And if you’re partner hasn’t shared them with you, that should be a warning sign.
The looming problem is that your partner now has a connection to someone. If you don’t know about it, you can be confident that your partner knows it would hurt you to know or read those messages. It’s how many affairs start—words, innuendo, hidden motivations. People get to know each other, and unwanted behavior blossoms. Fantasies, traded jokes, things that your partner isn’t aware of.
The other person is siphoning your partner’s time and possibly affection. People can be entertaining and engaged through these communications. Your partner might be attracted to having someone light, witty, and perhaps sexual. That’s what “too friendly” means. That mental picture they are creating of the other person isn’t wholly accurate. Generally. Our largest sexual organ is our brain.
Another person talking to someone else’s partner may have only platonic intentions. But the frequency, timing, and content of those messages will reveal such purposes if they are entirely and transparently shared with one’s partner. If your partner reads them and sees something you don’t – or don’t want to believe – you should default to your partner’s interpretation. That’s hard to grasp because you’re too close to see it. But if your partner is concerned enough to admit it, fire lurks in that smoke.
Many men approach their texting targets by slowly revealing things about their lives. They hide subtle or clever innuendos in their texts and wait to see if the person getting them responds in kind, amplifies, or shuts it off. They only need to find a crack, a small willingness, or something missing in that person’s life or heart to escalate.
If either of you is discussing problems in your current relationship, this is a massive red flag and a signal to cut off communications immediately. Once it reaches that stage, one or both of the people engaging in such communication has more than platonic feelings.
The same is true for sexual jokes and innuendo. Once the person gets your partner to allow, much less participate in or encourage, sexual banter, the danger dramatically increases. We’re sexual beings. Banter like that is fun and dangerous. Anyone who underestimates how our biology affects us that way is susceptible to engaging in inappropriate behavior.
Everyone starts by being friendly or being friends.
It all starts with access.
It’s the interaction that opens the door.
For toxic people, they know this and don’t hit the door with a battering ram on the first approach. They knock softly and follow the signs and signals.
It’s not mean to tell someone texting you that you are in a relationship and don’t welcome anything untoward. It is the only healthy response if you’re committed to your partner. One, because your partner is communicating openly to the world that they are in love and committed. Two, it establishes expectations and boundaries with the person reaching out. Three, it’s vital that your partner shut off any further communication once they feel that the line has been crossed.
Above all, share this with your partner, okay? Even the benign messages. But especially the ones that went wonky. If you do that, you will actively demonstrate respect, honesty, and love to your partner. If you don’t, if something suspicious ever occurs, it will be difficult for them to trust you when you talk about what happened.
It’s no crime that someone thinks your partner – or you – is attractive. That’s normal. Communicating it is a delicate situation that easily crosses boundaries.
You don’t accidentally text someone repeatedly. Concealing the time and content of that kind of communication takes effort.
It’s the concealment that triggers the worry.
If your partner sees that you’ve left the door open, it’s hurtful.
It would be best if you were transparent and immediate when someone reaches out to either of you.
Sunlight, above all, for both people’s sake.
Love is supposed to be easy and it’s supposed to be kind. Love is easy but daily living distracts us from the essential nature of a one-on-one relationship. Love is easy as an emotion and much more difficult as a commitment and an action.
I think all of us expect transparency. We just don’t know how to get there. I believe this is especially true for younger people. You achieve it by doing it first. If there’s no reciprocity, that’s something you will have to learn to accept, change, or learn from. In my experience, I have learned that it’s impossible for things to get sideways for either of you in a relationship is transparency is the foundation.
Never catch yourself behaving in a way that would hurt you if your partner did it.
I’m on antivirals for covid. My symptoms abated drastically. I went running this morning, something I haven’t done in a while. Maybe not the smartest thing to do, but being smart isn’t on the radar like it should be.
I’ve tested negative twice now, which puts into question when I actually “started” having it.
I offered to get anyone who might have been exposed a covid test for their own peace of mind. My employer doesn’t offer them. It’d be nice if they did, but we have great insurance.
On the other hand, as I’ve mentioned, many people just don’t test, even after a known exposure. We’re exposed a lot by those who have no symptoms and have no idea they are covid-positive. Since we don’t wear masks or practice social distancing, every single day is a crapshoot.
Every single person who shares your space or air could be infectious.
Saying you’re being safe while being social is, well, impossible.
Until now, if I were in close contact with a known positive case, I would test three or four days afterward. I realized that a lot of people were simply going about their routines without testing their symptoms and not getting boosters, and we’ve abandoned the behaviors that at least slowed the infection rate.
Some don’t even test when they have symptoms. “Why bother?” they ask. It’s their choice to test for their own benefit or for those around them.
We can’t do much about people who think they might have it and don’t test – and then go about their regular lives.
Compulsory testing doesn’t happen anywhere in my world.
Up until now, I tested more frequently than anyone else I personally know. That’s true. I wanted to know if I might be infecting other people, even if I didn’t have symptoms.
I’ve had five shots.
I was not going to be one of those people who were worried about getting covid unless I was certain I was not also giving it to others.
I’m glad I did that. It was the responsible thing to do.
And so, since masks aren’t required, shots aren’t generally mandated, nor is social distancing, testing has lost much of its practicality.
If anyone could have it, how do you protect yourself from that?
I’ll continue to get future boosters and vaccines, but the ritual of testing is over for me.
I’ve been alone in the wilderness in that regard, at least in my bubble.
I’ll be safe and keep the safety of others in mind, of course.
But my previous behavior doesn’t make much sense if most of us aren’t doing it.
When I went outside at work, the wind gusted with surprising speed. It seemed like every leaf in NWA was twirling and spinning, even inside the concrete jungle around me. It took me a moment to realize I was witnessing a dust devil comprised of leaves. The inside crux of the tall buildings created an unnatural barrier against which opposing and contradictory wind gusts collided. Because I woke up with more energy than any one person should have, I took off running and chased it before it dissipated. I succeeded in running through it for two seconds. The number of leaves that touched me is unknowable. But the tickling sensation was divine. I probably looked like a damn fool. In fact, I usually do. I’ll take that any day if I can get that kind of sensation. Especially at work. Having fun at work is tantamount to stealing, you know.
Not bad for a Monday morning. Or any morning.
The picture contains the piled remains of the moment, a steadily decreasing number of leaves in each pile.
Every stone is a story. Of love, loss, regret, lessons, and acceptance.
I put one down, a singular stone, yesterday.
I placed it on a stem I bit off with my teeth.
Looking closely at the picture, you’ll see it handing in the branches. I took the picture when Erika and I walked the trail yesterday. Our walk went by the place that inspired my “¿” story from last Sunday. Pictures don’t capture how eerily overcast and beautifully the morning was. It was a stolen moment of warmth, falling leaves, and intimacy as our feet moved us along the path.
Fifteen years I carried that weight. I broke the watch purposefully all those years ago. A memento.
It’s on the trail now, maybe forever, maybe for a day.
It’s behind me now. Just as everything really is. I forgot I still had it. As I have with so many mementos lately, I wanted to release it and take back the power it once contained.
Everyone’s wounded in their own way. It’s easy to forget that because we feel like we have to conceal the hurt.
Because optimism is a consequence of love, the stone I left behind yesterday left my fingers easily. Erika stood behind me on the trail, watching me clumsily find my way closer to the abandoned trucks decomposing in the brush. After I walked back to the trail to meet her there and continue our lovely walk, I was happy.
Stones aren’t meant to be carried. They are meant to be measured, appreciated, and then left behind. If I had to carry all my accumulated stones, walking would be impossible, as unlikely as finding happiness if I were focused on my missteps.
Don’t forget your stones. Just don’t carry them.
Every stone in your pocket, in your heart, or in your head reduces your ability to siphon the good from whatever awaits you today.
Love, X .
PS I hadn’t heard the song “Stones” by Barbarossa until yesterday. I didn’t watch “HIMYM” like so many other people did. It got in my head to remind myself that every morning I get to decide whether to carry the stones or hurl them into the air – and away, where they belong.
I stood outside the convenience store after exiting.
A miracle car pulled up to the curb next to me. I call it a miracle because it was miraculous that it would run. All of its parts were culled from a hundred disparate vehicles. I saw bolts, baling wire, and tape in surprising places. A couple of pieces of the body looked burned. Or to be remnants of an explosion. It wasn’t loud, but it also sounded like special effects as the engine ran.
The picture I used in this description is not the actual car. Taking their picture would have ruined the moment.
A forty-ish man exited the passenger side. He fumbled with two large manilla envelopes.
From inside the car, a woman’s voice asked, “Are you warm enough? Are you sure you don’t want us to drop you somewhere else?”
He smiled as he managed the papers in his hands.
“I’m good. It’s my first day out. I’m not ever going back there. Never. I learned my lesson. Here is just fine.”
The driver was smoking, nodding his head, and laughing in appreciation of the enthusiasm and certainty with which the first man spoke those words.
I admit I lingered at that point, pretending to look for something in the pocket of my driver’s door.
It was obvious he was arriving home, wherever that might be, just out of prison.
The man walked over to the curb near the gas canister storage. A woman wearing only a jacket somehow got out of the car from the rear seat, as neither the door nor the seat seemed to move.
It was interesting that she had asked him if he were warm enough. When I say she was wearing only a jacket, I’m being literal.
She scampered up to him and gave him a huge hug. His face lit up like a sunrise.
“Are you sure we can’t take you somewhere? Anywhere you want to go?” She smiled up at him.
“No, thank you. I’m beyond good right here.”
He hugged her this time, his arms lifting her up in the air a little. She should have been very cold at that point.
She laughed.
I got in my car to leave, wanting to know his story.
He chose wisely, though.
Both for the hugs and for not getting back into the miracle car.
It MUST be fueled by hope as mechanically it’s an impossibility that it runs without suspending the laws of physics.
Maybe, just maybe, he provided the necessary hope.
There was something about the way he said he had learned the lesson that made me believe him.
I hope he’s safe and warm now, a couple of weeks later.
I didn’t know how to write this little story.
There’s no special ending, no words of wisdom.
It’s just a human moment that I was able to witness.
I wish I could hear the tone of his voice more in my daily life.
When I walked up the trail, a group of trees dropped about a thousand leaves. By the time I got my camera out and my fumble fingers straight, I caught the end of it.
I understand the biochemical reaction that causes such a simultaneous shedding of deciduous leaves.
Understanding it does not make it any less beautiful.
I stood under the trees and let the leaves rain on me.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 