Hiding under a careless facade, she's surprisingly small, loud but timid, bold but meek, laughing but silently whimpering for more than fleeting attention.
She's average. Small frame, large teeth, slight mustache, but has beautiful, even stunning windows to her soul. Except an average passerby may miss her soul completely, distracted by the layers of gaudy makeup marring the view.
She commands attention with her presence, though not her poise. Negative attention will suffice when admiration is absent, and she demands it in a loud declaration of negativity. No matter the subject. No matter the location. People gawk, in awe, though not positively impressed. So small, yet so crass. Startlingly obtuse, yet completely unaware of her condition.
A raindrop is a thunderstorm, a bright day too cold. A smile froth with condescension, a glance full of contempt. She repels most, but attracts a needy select few and to them she clings, a cancerous tumor. Stealing their individuality, she monopolizes their time, cutting them off slowly from outsiders, filling their heads with fresh new negativity, metastasizing faster than projected. The life expectancy of former relationships is cut short by her erratic growth, and her host is left utterly alone, save for her malignant company.
When her host finally recognizes her cankerous presence as the cause of pain, solitude, and angst, it's too late. No amount of intensive care will revive past connections, since severed, shriveled, and decomposed. Suddenly alone and aware, her host is trapped and unhappily disconnected from those that made her smile in the past. With nowhere to go and nobody left to turn, the host is faced with a painful decision. Extract the negativity from her life and begin anew with the involved treatment or continue down the same path knowingly and resign herself to fate. Awareness has changed her perceptions, however, and now the loud, bold, crass, attention seeking facade has ceased being attractive. Now a blaring embarrassment, it has become hard to ignore.
Choosing the operation over certain death of character, the recovery is long, painful, and slow, as the cancer tries again and again to relapse, begging, pleading, lashing out, attacking, harassing, grasping, always threatening. As the host gains her strength of personality back, she is emboldened by the positive change, and finds herself rejecting the dejected tumor more easily than ever. She revels in appreciating a raindrop for its properties of renewal and cleansing, a bright day for the sun's warming effect on the soul. A smile is taken at face value, as a glance is met with a smile of her own. A smile that reflects her renewed health and joy.
The classic catastrophe, however, is in the disease, who sees not what she caused or created, but only her role as the victim. She laments the loss of her host and creates a cacophony, wondering to anyone who will listen why there are so many thunderstorms and cold days in her life. That is until, feeling her pain in a moment of vulnerability, her next host reaches out to her with an unprotected heart.
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Friday, April 22, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Crashing Couches Casually Cultivating Close Connections
There is something I've gained from every trip I've taken. Each location resonates in me one way or another. Each place has called to my heart to return, but of all the places I've been, there have only been four in the continental United States that I've returned to time and time again. Monterey, CA, Annville, PA, Tampa, FL, and New York City.
~~~~~
I've found that it is not the scenery, club scene, nor quality of restaurants in these places, that causes me to return. To me, although I generally seek adventure and new experiences, there are certain traits from my exploration to which I find myself drawn time and time again. I've learned in life, you can see the most beautiful sights and participate in the most crazy exploits, but if you cultivate no connections along the way, the road can quickly become devoid of meaning, and then, instead of revelling and enjoying your journey to self discovery, you can find yourself flailing without an anchor, seemingly happy to untrained eyes, but truly empty and alone. Essentially living a Beat Generation existence in true form: travel, passion, alcohol, sex, debauchery, but missing vitality of the soul.
~~~~~
I just returned from one of the most beautiful islands in the world, Republica Dominicana. To date, this is the only international location which I've revisited. I spent a month there last February, mountain biking, wandering, hiking, dancing, and meeting people. This time I spent just one week on the island. The motivation, to the passive onlooker, might obviously have been the First International Bachata Festival. The opportunity to be part of history, where the people who love bachata travel from the other side of the world for the first time to celebrate its existence in the bachata capital of the world. However, in truth, it wasn't the festival itself so much as the prospect of having the chance to experience, once again, relationships I'd created along my path to self discovery at said festival that brought me to purchase the full pass and airfare.
~~~~~~
My participation in Couchsurfing.org has brought to me a lightness of spirit in travel and life in general. In learning to be open to making connections, hearing stories, and sharing moments with new friends around the world, the states, and close to home, I've become much more free with my heart. In past musings, I was known to say I loved horses and dogs, tolerated people...and it was true. In a crowded room, I was always amongst strangers, surrounded by acquaintances, distracted by thoughts of places...potential... practicalities. Half listening to everyone, half wishing I could disappear and hear no one. Half wanting them to like me, half not caring if they despised me. Half wanting recognition, half wanting to be ignored. Always with one foot out the door. Always on the outside looking in, and thoroughly enjoying the seclusion of separation; if only mental. Always judging. Always convinced nobody understood me, my plight, my story, and more so, feeling it wasn't worth explaining the restlessness and subtle boredom I felt around them.
~~~~~
That was then, this is now. No, I'm not referencing The Greasers. Though I enjoyed the genre thoroughly as a child.
~~~~~
Through travelling with nearly nothing, I've been exposed to the goodness of people: that spark in a soul that tempts your heart to reveal itself unabashed, and in turn nourishes the subsequently planted seed of friendship. With this gradual change in ideology, my horizons have expanded infinitely. I barely recognize my recent self when I consider the chained, dark moments of years past. The beauty of the transition is its subtlety. There was never a specific day I consciously chose to open my mind and heart to accept people from different paths. There was no distinct moment where I decided to be connected as opposed to removed.
~~~~~
I woke up one morning on a creaky, damp mattress sans sheets in a jungle cabin with no electricity near Puyo, Ecuador, covered in mosquito bites and smiling. I fought my way out from under the faulty mosquito net, and made my way to the crudely assembled wooden table in the kitchen, revelling in the sound of a torrential jungle downpour beating on the thatched roof. I smelled of sweat with a twinge of mildew, but not enough to overpower the sweet scent of Mother Nature's 100% organic cleaning solution that softly kissed my face in a misty breeze as I passed an open window. I greeted a couple from Riobamba, 4 Finnish girls, and a couple from Seattle that had already been wandering for four months when I sat down. Together we relaxed, shared stories, laughed, and enjoyed breakfast to the melody of a careless percipitation. It was in that moment I realized I wasn't on the outside looking in. I wasn't feigning interest. I was intrigued, and it wasn't forced. The best part? I realized in that moment that I would only be excluded in my future if I chose to be, because I recognized the lightening effect relationships have on your being.
~~~~~
There is something I've gained from every trip I've taken. Each place resonates in me one way or another. Each place has called my heart to return, but it's not the scenery, club scene, or quality of restaurants that tempts me. Solely people have the ability to lasso my spirit and draw it back to a location with me in tow. Whether it's Wlady in Ecuador, Don, Knikki, Tim, or any of my Chilkat Guides family in Alaska, Jota and Dina in DR, Cat in Monterey, David in England, Jorge in Spain, family in NY, FL, and PA, Peter, Aut, or Spaci in Czech Republic, Marydale in Afghanistan, Maurycy, Pawel, Erik or Quin in Seattle, Merlin, Rebecca, or La Familia de la Salsa in Watertown and Syracuse...whoever, wherever. These casually cultivated close connections are the true reason I return.
~~~~~
These days I am proud to declare honestly that I love horses, dogs, AND people.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Indecently Discarded
Before I get tons of questions, no, this is not a personal experience. I was just sitting in a bar this evening musing about the way people treat one another. How often this happens. I got a little carried away. Read on.
Her: Driven, ambitious, quirky, light hearted, and in love with nature, outdoors, fun, and experiencing life. She's soulful; someone who has experienced more than her share, more than she should have for her age. She's 27, and what people tend describe as exotic. Almond eyes, white smile, dimple, olive skin.
Him: Driven, ambitious, accomplished. In love with adrenaline, people, and improving the community. He's attractive, open, spontaneous, and family oriented. He's something of a legend in his community, and has made an impression on the world. He's 44, and what people tend to describe as ruggedly handsome. Laughing green eyes, distinguished, weathered.
The two met by chance, through both of their passions, live music. He caught her eye, bouncing around to the music, travelling the floor, making his presence noticed with less than no rhythm. She sat back for hours until finally asking him to dance. He complied. They laughed, drank, danced. They loved their moments together.
A short while later, the two bumped into each other again, and the chemistry was undeniable. Their concern for people brought them together. They understood each other. They talked for hours, tiptoeing around the obvious age difference, the potential between them. They enjoyed each other's company, and it didn't seem to matter.
He commanded her attention, she commanded his. They found ways to see each other, even for a short bit. A 15 minute smoothie break, a short jaunt by the docks. Their time together was a complement to each.
They chased the moon hand in hand down the center of an empty road, with the sounds of the sea at their backs.
They idled in the dark, chatting, laughing, until there was a rustle in the brush that could have been a bear. They picked up the pace a bit more, laughing all the while.
They kayaked together to a secluded beach, sat against some drift wood, and fell asleep in each other's arms.
He had her over for dinner, and in moments of passion, they became one.
They weren't prepared for each other in this life. He had almost given up on her existence, and while she knew he was somewhere, it didn't cross her mind that he'd be found in a town of 2,500, in a small bar in Southeast Alaska.
They had a serious conversation. He hadn't been with anyone in years. He thought she was incredible, and he had even told his mother. She met his brother. He invited her to have Thanksgiving with his family. He showed her his dreams. He shared with her his fears. He told her how good he made him feel, so good, in fact that he felt as if quitting smoking could be possible. She embraced them, him, his faults, and his passions.
He offered her undying and endless support, told her he'd be there for her, and even offered her a drawer in his house to encourage her presence in his life. He set the pace. He offered his home. He told her to make herself at home, but she couldn't just move in completely.
Then one day, she noticed a change in the weather. Something so abrupt, she didn't have time to react. Suddenly there were no more smoothie breaks, no dinners, no time together but time after work. He still wanted her to come by the house, but their time together seemed loveless. They were no longer one when together, just two people, one driven by lust, one by the hope love would return.
Eventually, she didn't want to visit the house anymore, but she complied because it was their time together. She hesitated to go home with him one night after a particularly cold evening together. She felt used. Sex is nothing but an annoyance without love.
When he ran into her in public, he seemed irritated that she would approach him. He avoided her. Refused to acknowledge her in front of his old friends, and refused to introduce her to anyone new. He even went so far as to turn his back on her upon her approaches.
She was confused. Her heart pulsed, felt as if it would burst out of her throat in a violent gush of tears. After several days, she pulled him aside, and demanded he explain to her the change.
His only response was, "I need to slow down. We can't live together. I'm confused. I need time."
She wanted to scream at him that HE set the pace. HE cleared the drawer. HE pursued her. HE entered her world. HE promised trips, time together, family, future. HE took her by surprise. HE broke her heart.
But she only responded with a quiet, "I'm not in a rush, but you could have handled this better." He had made her feel worthless, like a bother. Like the problem was hers.
They decided she would pull her things from his house, and after that they didn't speak. She decided to wait for him to come around, but he didn't call for several days. When he did, he offered a smoothie break, and some support. She believed him, and he stood her up. The third week in a row.
She started to doubt what she had to offer. She started to doubt her strength as a woman. Did she do something to push away this man? To make him embarrassed enough of her in public that he felt it necessary to ignore her? To cut communications? Was the hunt the only exciting part for him? Was she not a good catch?
She had seen this happen to others. This was the first time she experienced it first hand. She realized in an instant she had become disposable. A toy that had become a hassle on top of other responsibilities after an initial enjoyment.
She lamented. She had sleepless nights. She cursed him. She cried. She laughed at him and herself, but eventually she wished he would just speak to her like she was a human being. He treated dogs better than he treated her. All she wanted was acknowledgement, a sort of truce to become friends, because at that point there would be no reconciliation on a romantic level.
She lives by the saying, "When somebody shows you their true self, believe them." There would be no convincing her he was a better person than he had shown her. She had made that mistake before. He had lied to her, filled her head with empty promises, and decided he could drop her like a bad habit. Or maybe not. He had a MUCH harder time quitting smoking than he had quitting his time with her.
The part that made the hot tears stream down her face when she was alone was how worthless he seemed to think she was.
She recognized what was happening, as in one of her lesser proud moments, she had treated somebody the same way. In private, she had been one with a man that she was embarrassed of in public, and one day she cut him off completely and suddenly with a shoddy excuse of needing time to herself, being confused, needing to think, etc. She had truly enjoyed time with him, but one day things changed. She refused to speak to him because he complicated things in her head, the worries, the stresses. She didn't give him the respect he deserved because it was an inconvenience to her. She had treated him as if he was disposable. He had cried, written her letters, and pleaded with her to talk with him. He even threatened her. She couldn't be bothered. She didn't answer his calls, and was dismissive to his cries. She thought her problems were worth more than his ego. She figured he'd recover, and just wished he'd disappear instead of making her feel bad about the way she was treating him. She just wanted him to move on, and leave her alone.
In that moment of realization, she felt bad for both men. The man who she had stood by and dismissed her without a thought, and the man she had dismissed. She wished with her entire being that she could rescind her wrongdoings, hug him, make a friend of him, and take away his pain. For people are beautiful beings, not objects, not toys. Emotions are not disposable. It is not right to just drop someone because they have become an inconvenience. It's not OK to ignore someone completely. Simple explanations, honesty, and a little courage is all it takes to mend relations, yet we tend to cut them so crudely. It's instant gratification. It's a loss of values over generations.
It hurts. Nobody should have to experience it.
People would be kinder to one another if they could empathize with the feelings of the indecently discarded.
Her: Driven, ambitious, quirky, light hearted, and in love with nature, outdoors, fun, and experiencing life. She's soulful; someone who has experienced more than her share, more than she should have for her age. She's 27, and what people tend describe as exotic. Almond eyes, white smile, dimple, olive skin.
Him: Driven, ambitious, accomplished. In love with adrenaline, people, and improving the community. He's attractive, open, spontaneous, and family oriented. He's something of a legend in his community, and has made an impression on the world. He's 44, and what people tend to describe as ruggedly handsome. Laughing green eyes, distinguished, weathered.
The two met by chance, through both of their passions, live music. He caught her eye, bouncing around to the music, travelling the floor, making his presence noticed with less than no rhythm. She sat back for hours until finally asking him to dance. He complied. They laughed, drank, danced. They loved their moments together.
A short while later, the two bumped into each other again, and the chemistry was undeniable. Their concern for people brought them together. They understood each other. They talked for hours, tiptoeing around the obvious age difference, the potential between them. They enjoyed each other's company, and it didn't seem to matter.
He commanded her attention, she commanded his. They found ways to see each other, even for a short bit. A 15 minute smoothie break, a short jaunt by the docks. Their time together was a complement to each.
They chased the moon hand in hand down the center of an empty road, with the sounds of the sea at their backs.
They idled in the dark, chatting, laughing, until there was a rustle in the brush that could have been a bear. They picked up the pace a bit more, laughing all the while.
They kayaked together to a secluded beach, sat against some drift wood, and fell asleep in each other's arms.
He had her over for dinner, and in moments of passion, they became one.
They weren't prepared for each other in this life. He had almost given up on her existence, and while she knew he was somewhere, it didn't cross her mind that he'd be found in a town of 2,500, in a small bar in Southeast Alaska.
They had a serious conversation. He hadn't been with anyone in years. He thought she was incredible, and he had even told his mother. She met his brother. He invited her to have Thanksgiving with his family. He showed her his dreams. He shared with her his fears. He told her how good he made him feel, so good, in fact that he felt as if quitting smoking could be possible. She embraced them, him, his faults, and his passions.
He offered her undying and endless support, told her he'd be there for her, and even offered her a drawer in his house to encourage her presence in his life. He set the pace. He offered his home. He told her to make herself at home, but she couldn't just move in completely.
Then one day, she noticed a change in the weather. Something so abrupt, she didn't have time to react. Suddenly there were no more smoothie breaks, no dinners, no time together but time after work. He still wanted her to come by the house, but their time together seemed loveless. They were no longer one when together, just two people, one driven by lust, one by the hope love would return.
Eventually, she didn't want to visit the house anymore, but she complied because it was their time together. She hesitated to go home with him one night after a particularly cold evening together. She felt used. Sex is nothing but an annoyance without love.
When he ran into her in public, he seemed irritated that she would approach him. He avoided her. Refused to acknowledge her in front of his old friends, and refused to introduce her to anyone new. He even went so far as to turn his back on her upon her approaches.
She was confused. Her heart pulsed, felt as if it would burst out of her throat in a violent gush of tears. After several days, she pulled him aside, and demanded he explain to her the change.
His only response was, "I need to slow down. We can't live together. I'm confused. I need time."
She wanted to scream at him that HE set the pace. HE cleared the drawer. HE pursued her. HE entered her world. HE promised trips, time together, family, future. HE took her by surprise. HE broke her heart.
But she only responded with a quiet, "I'm not in a rush, but you could have handled this better." He had made her feel worthless, like a bother. Like the problem was hers.
They decided she would pull her things from his house, and after that they didn't speak. She decided to wait for him to come around, but he didn't call for several days. When he did, he offered a smoothie break, and some support. She believed him, and he stood her up. The third week in a row.
She started to doubt what she had to offer. She started to doubt her strength as a woman. Did she do something to push away this man? To make him embarrassed enough of her in public that he felt it necessary to ignore her? To cut communications? Was the hunt the only exciting part for him? Was she not a good catch?
She had seen this happen to others. This was the first time she experienced it first hand. She realized in an instant she had become disposable. A toy that had become a hassle on top of other responsibilities after an initial enjoyment.
She lamented. She had sleepless nights. She cursed him. She cried. She laughed at him and herself, but eventually she wished he would just speak to her like she was a human being. He treated dogs better than he treated her. All she wanted was acknowledgement, a sort of truce to become friends, because at that point there would be no reconciliation on a romantic level.
She lives by the saying, "When somebody shows you their true self, believe them." There would be no convincing her he was a better person than he had shown her. She had made that mistake before. He had lied to her, filled her head with empty promises, and decided he could drop her like a bad habit. Or maybe not. He had a MUCH harder time quitting smoking than he had quitting his time with her.
The part that made the hot tears stream down her face when she was alone was how worthless he seemed to think she was.
She recognized what was happening, as in one of her lesser proud moments, she had treated somebody the same way. In private, she had been one with a man that she was embarrassed of in public, and one day she cut him off completely and suddenly with a shoddy excuse of needing time to herself, being confused, needing to think, etc. She had truly enjoyed time with him, but one day things changed. She refused to speak to him because he complicated things in her head, the worries, the stresses. She didn't give him the respect he deserved because it was an inconvenience to her. She had treated him as if he was disposable. He had cried, written her letters, and pleaded with her to talk with him. He even threatened her. She couldn't be bothered. She didn't answer his calls, and was dismissive to his cries. She thought her problems were worth more than his ego. She figured he'd recover, and just wished he'd disappear instead of making her feel bad about the way she was treating him. She just wanted him to move on, and leave her alone.
In that moment of realization, she felt bad for both men. The man who she had stood by and dismissed her without a thought, and the man she had dismissed. She wished with her entire being that she could rescind her wrongdoings, hug him, make a friend of him, and take away his pain. For people are beautiful beings, not objects, not toys. Emotions are not disposable. It is not right to just drop someone because they have become an inconvenience. It's not OK to ignore someone completely. Simple explanations, honesty, and a little courage is all it takes to mend relations, yet we tend to cut them so crudely. It's instant gratification. It's a loss of values over generations.
It hurts. Nobody should have to experience it.
People would be kinder to one another if they could empathize with the feelings of the indecently discarded.
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