Problem

I had no sooner called my Daddy to say I was coming home when I was told that I would be working at the home office.  I told Daddy if I had known that making plans to see him would lead me to some extra cash I would have made plans sooner.  Money has been tight since January so the chance to work some extra hours was more of a blessing than a curse.  
I would love to work at the home office full time.  It's only a 5 minute drive from where I live.  It was strange to work with women.  I work as an administrator on a plant site.  I can go a whole week and never see another female.  Working with women Friday and Saturday was a nice change of pace but I can see the down side to it.  Women are much more volatile.  Their moods change quickly.  I deal with this by being quiet and not paying attention to conversations around me. 
Five field administrators were asked to come in, but I was the only one asked to come back the following Friday on a semi-permanent basis.  I was pretty jacked about that as it's awesome money for work that is less difficult than what I do during the week.  I hope I'm moving in the direction of a full time position in accounting.  My fingers are crossed.
The Professor called on Thursday to cancel the plans we had made for the weekend.  I don't know how I knew this in advance but I did.  I didn't even plan on seeing him but I assured him it was fine since I had to work anyways.  He's all caught up in his roller derby team.  The Professor isn't exactly a social butterfly.  He's handsome and well spoken but he finds it hard to connect with people. The one friend he has is paid to be his assistant at the university.  His romances are short lived and he can go days without speaking with anyone other than those ringing up transactions for him.   He's awkward and lacks a few of the social amenities that others have.  My Daddy has a few of the same quirks.  Perhaps that is why I am so patient.  I understand a few of the complications that accompany a high IQ.  You'd think a high IQ would be a benefit but it's often a problem especially socially.
He tries.  He often creates social arenas for himself like roller derby, partners with others in business ventures, helps out with charities.  They never last long but I applaud him. It's not easy to see your faults and try to do something about them. 
I would like to see him more but I trust his timing.  I would prefer him to see me when he wants than to make an effort when he doesn't.  He will be more open and it strengthens our relationship or whatever you want to call it.   I
I could date others, maybe even find someone who would provide an easier relationship to be involved in, but I just don't want to.  Others bore me.  I don't feel as alive.  He inspires me to be so much more than I ever thought I could be.  I have a core belief that there is a sacred contract between the two of us.  I believe we are supposed to be in each other's lives.
And while Robert is trying to work on his social skills, I am trying to work on a few problem areas as well.  I am trying desperately to become physically fit.  I have to overcome my impulses to be comfortable and complacent.  I am an emotional eater; my weapon of choice and I've fought self soothing my entire life. Being an emotional eater is just as dangerous as being an alcoholic or a drug addict.  This is my battle and I have to win it for my health.  It is essential to the life I want for myself.
So I'm working out at the gym a lot.  I do crunches in my office chair.  I walk in the sunshine.  I lift weights to strengthen my arms.  I set goals and try to reach them though lately I've not pushed myself very far and I feel a need to do so right now. 
I read a lot.  Over the weekend I picked up Just Kids by Patti Smith and I think it's the most brilliant book I've read all year. 
And in my relationship with the Professor, I am also aware that parts of me have shut down emotionally.  In the past few years, I've forgotten how to open up and talk about myself.  I find it hard to be honest about how I feel.  Sometimes it's just easier to let others do the talking isn't it?  It is for me.  Somethings are painful to speak of but I'm trying.  I'm journaling a lot.  I try to capture as many of my thoughts on paper as I can. 
I'm constantly looking for ways to broaden my horizons and drip in knowledge. 
I truly believe that we find ourselves in the relationships we are supposed to be in.  Sometimes I'm lonely but maybe there's a point to that. 

Coffee Run

My inner dialogue never stops.  

My inner dialogue never sleeps and doesn't understand why I should.  It walks the floors of my mind and poses questions and theories to me all night long.  It has no problem waking me at three in the morning with an urgent message or discovery or maybe it just had a cleaver idea to share.  It happens often like this morning.  2:57 am: Your actions are contradicting your desires.  You are not seizing opportunities.  You are spending too much time alone.  You are wasting time sleeping.

Hush. 

I throw on jeans and a jumper.  I grab a traveler and head to my car.  A young man comes from the apartment shared by the Rachel and Rachel downstairs. I've never seen him before.  He's wearing a t shirt and sleepy pants.  I'm warming my Miata and watch as he makes his way to the bushes and has a pee.  Perhaps he was sleeping on the couch and didn't want to wake the girls.  I wonder if he knew I was watching.  Surely he knew I was.

It's cold but an early Spring cold.  

On Thursday I called my Daddy to let him know I was coming for the weekend, when I got another call.  It was the accounting department asking me to work Friday and Saturday and possibly Sunday at the home office.  So much for those plans but it was good news. I've been struggling with money since the year began.  I called Daddy back and promised to see him as soon as I was free.  It's like an extra pay check but better.

I'm an administrator on a plant site surrounded by construction workers all day but the work is fairly independent.  I can go hours without having to speak a word and I can go a week at work and never see another woman at all.  It was strange to find myself working in a room full of females.  Watching their shifts in moods and inner action made my head spin.

I was asked to join a few of them for drinks after work but declined.  I went home and sat with myself.  

My inner dialogue is right. 

I am a pair of mismatched socks.

Other Things

I spent the afternoon thinking of other things.
The Internet is an incredible tool.  You can find almost anything there.
You can even find that a Professor isn't always schooling grad students.  He likes to lend his wisdom to the masses through Yahoo Answers.  He gives his insight on everything from interviews to why the sky is blue.  He even gave some advice to a love sick boy.

"Act as if you don't care and see other people.  You will become more desirable because you will not be available.  She is blind to you now anyways, but not available is better.  If she doesn't come around, you are still seeing others (even if your heart isn't in it), and you might find someone else as good.

As for the sleep and no eating, etc.: STOP thinking of her.  It will still hurt, but your thinking about it will add extra chemicals in your brain that make you sad.  You will get through this...just keep sludging forward and bide your time.  Statistically, they won't last.  Good luck bro..."

So I thought about other things and he was right of course.  I felt better.  I felt amazing all afternoon and into the night.

I began an online creative writing class.  My first assignment is to spend an hour in a place that has meaning noting things that evoke the five senses.  I have to write a 500 word essay on it.  I think I will do this at Daddy's over the weekend.

I slid into shorts when I got home and felt spring on my legs.  I put my heart into vegetable soup and folded two loads of laundry for Adam.  I reached out to friends and spoke with my daughter about military ball gowns.  I cleaned the house and made kissy noises at Ollie the Quaker Parrot.  I busied my hands, listened to my heart and didn't think at all.

And seeing other people?  Well, for now I'll see family and friends.  I am not sure I want to see other people in any romantic sense.  I still want The Professor to be that person to me but I certainly don't want it to consume me.  Some things happen right away.  Other things take time or not at all.  I don't want to completely dismiss him because I can't have my way. I don't know the reasons behind the absence and quite frankly it's none of my business.  

 

Home

I think I need to go home.  When I'm lost and without direction, a weekend at my Daddy's often heals my broken sense of spirit.  In the quiet woods of my childhood backdrop, I often find the answers that I seek.  Without words, it's almost as if I have a conversation with my youngest self; the one that never leaves, perhaps the one who was left behind.  I hope someone lets her know I'm on my way.

Tonight I will try to let go of some of my bitter at the gym.  I need to sweat and burn and hurt  just a little.  I have to let go of these feelings or they will take me down and I'll never get up again.  I don't think I'm supposed to go that way. 

The Professor and I spoke of spending time together this weekend but without any word from him, I don't think that's in the plans.  I love the way I feel when I'm close to him but I feel so terrible in his absence that it hardly makes it worth it.  I asked God to remove him or make sense of him but not to leave me in suspense of him anylonger. 

It is growing obvious that the one I seek and what I seek are not one in the same. 

Desperate

There are nights I shut the door behind me and do not want to leave the peaceful confines of my place until morning.  I want a quiet dinner, a shower, a rest.  I've spent enough time thinking and talking and I need a moment of nothing.  This is especially so after a hectic Monday.
A. cannot be still.  He spends the night trolling dating sites, checking email and texting in search of something to do with someone, anyone, nobody really.  It's an obsession that's exhausting to watch.  It's hard to watch.  I want to be anywhere but in the near reach of it. The desperation smells up the place.  Desperation is never attractive and yet he wonders why he can't find someone to have a relationship with.   
I believe the relationships we find ourselves in are the ones we need.  Sometimes they teach us what we want to be.  Sometimes they teach us what we don't want to be. 
I don't want to be A.  Our behaviors are different, and yet I know that his behavior would not trouble me if I didn't see something of myself in the behavior. 
Since the end of January, I've been seeing the Professor exclusively.  That doesn't mean often.  I am fine with that except when I'm not.  We agreed upon the loose fabric of our envelopment.  We chose it together.  I've allowed him to pick and choose the times and places.  There is no one to be envious of as I know I'm the only woman in his life but as time passes, and yet I long for more like a mistress. 
I want to send a thinking of you text message and receive a response on the same day.  I want to feel free to call and ask if he wants company which I don't feel comfortable doing so currently.  
After a weekend of little left of zero communication, I receive a text message after midnight telling me that he wished I didn't have to work in the morning because he was a bit wired and wouldn't mind seeing me.
I spent the rest of the night with a racing mind and eyes wide open.  I never returned to a peaceful place.  I was robbed by a man who wants me when he wants me.  
The love sick fool in me says that I should be patient and kind in my approach because others simply pale beside him.  The stronger part of me says that I am as desperate as A. to go on with this subservient behavior.  

To Talk and Keep Him Company

One of the answers I’ve received on life purposes came from my Grandma Jones, a virtuous woman who always tried to walk in Christ’s likeness and serve him in a small Baptist church founded by a long ago Grandfather of mine in the late 1800’s.  While a lot of Baptists are known for being righteous, she is far from that.  She has grown in her faith and now at 76, she recently agreed with me that God has many faces. Years before she said that no one could enter God’s Kingdom except through Jesus Christ.  Oh, I love her so!  I called her on her birthday which coincidentally is shared with you.  In that birthday conversations she asked me if I knew why God created us.  She said, “To talk and keep Him Company”.  I believe there is great truth in this. 

I believe we are Children of God in that we are of the same energy force.  I believe we communicate with God but I also think we are all connected and that we all communicate with each other in the same way.  Is it a spiritual butterfly effect?  Maybe.  I told you I was on a journey and I’ve lived in many places and done many different things.  I have strong wings but no real roots to speak of and yet I believe I reside in everyone I’ve ever met and they in me. 

I believe we all have a life purpose and we don’t necessarily have to know that purpose in order to fulfill it.  Perhaps if we knew, we would never take it on.  If you knew your purpose was intertwined with where you are now, would you have walked in it?    There’s a deep heavy price involved in your life purpose and would you be who you are if you had walked any other way?  Perhaps that is why people don’t know or they would not accept what they’re here to do.

My sister lives in Watford, England; that’s like 20 minutes from London.  She was married (for a third time: love an experienced woman!) in India; this is where her husband Akash is from.  When his friends come over, they are always very reverent of my nephew Charlie who has Downs Syndrome.  They believe that he is a very old soul to have been born into a life with a disability like his.  Only an old soul would take it on, they say.  “If Charlie ever visits India, please allow my Mother to meet him. It would be a very great honor…”  Charlie is an amazing soul.  He is far ahead of most.

You spoke of your inner compass.  I have a similar compass.  I also find myself drawn to things without explanation only later to understand it as knowledge I would need later on my journey.  Today, I just want to thank you for being in my head.  I think you unlocked my words because they’ve just flowed in a way that they haven’t in a long time.   You’re a gift if for no other reason.

I have many things I’d like to share with you but I will save it for the next.

Much love and light and the energy that rocks us gently and often violently,

Echo xxx

Dear Damien

My roots begin in the dirty south.  I was born on September 16, 1972.  My parents were 16 at the time of my birth and my birth is spoken of a lot among those that were there.  My mother had a difficult delivery.  The doctors could not find my heartbeat and as I began to crown, the doctor told my father that my “soft spot” was that of a stillborn.  The waiting room was filled with family members as well as a mortician in a black suit smoking cigarette after cigarette.  He was waiting to take me away; with my Momma or without.

A storm was blowing and tornados were cited on that day.  When I was born, they wrapped me up.  No heartbeat.  No life.  Only they were wrong.  I fooled them.  The doctor was so amazed that he took me out covered in afterbirth and declared me to be the miracle baby of 72.  It took a few days to shake the grey off my new human form.  My Great Grandmother Sadie-a child born to a Native American and an English Witch said I had been born without a veil; that in my rush the Angels did not have time to take away my soul’s memory of what I had left behind.  Sadie whispered to my Momma, “She was born without a veil.  She’ll speak to the other side.”  And I did.  And I have.  And I continue to do so.

I was a good baby by all accounts.  I was a fast walker and talker.  My parents recall that I didn’t like to be touched though more likely I was a self soother which was probably good with such young, green parents.  I remember there always being a lot of teenagers in and out of our home though my parents were rarely in the same room or in the house at the same time.  I recall having conversations with my sister when she couldn’t possibly have been able to talk.  The world was big and full of magic. 

Elvis died on the same day I came home to find that my Daddy have moved out.  My Daddy had not been much of a husband.  He much preferred the company of his friends, smoking pot, getting drunk and chasing girls who didn’t know he had a wife and two kids at home.  Why would they?  He was only 18 years old.  My Daddy wasn’t much of a husband and Momma wasn’t much of a wife.  In Daddy’s absence, she became smitten with a young blonde cousin of Daddy’s.  The affair gave Daddy permission to leave.  They were 21.

My Daddy with all of his faults, was a good guy.  He had been raised in a good home as an only child to good people.  My cousin Twain had spent his childhood in an orphanage when his alcoholic mother could not raise him properly.  He was mean and violent.  I adored my Mother and would endure the turbulence to be with her.  She was blonde and beautiful and smelled of baby shampoo.  I almost felt I was there to protect her.  Sometimes there was no food.  Sometimes there was no heat.  She was pregnant with my half brother who was also my cousin technically.  My sister and I stayed at Sadie’s while she was in the hospital.  She went back to work and I began expecting her to pick me up after school but days and weeks passed.  I realized she wasn’t coming back.  I cried for three days without a bother to eat or sleep.  They say you forget pain but you don’t.  I’ve never forgotten that feeling and I’ve avoided being left behind my whole life.  I would say good bye first.  I would leave before they could.  My sister who was 5 and says she wasn’t that bothered by Momma’s abandonment is the same way.  We also both share a dislike for Mother figures.

Daddy knew that he was no kind of role model, and we lived with Sadie for a while before living with my Father’s parents.  Daddy lived a few houses away and ate dinner with us every night.  Grandma and Grandpa Jones were not raising girls, they intended to raise ladies.  Any manners and graces I ever learned were learned while living with them.   Years passed.  I saw Momma sometimes, and then not all but I never stopped longing for her.  She was where I wanted to be.  My father married his long time girlfriend and we moved in with them.  Another half brother was born.  For a short time, I felt I had a normal family.

After several years of no contact, she returned when I was 11.  She was engaged to a man who was a correctional officer which she made sound like he was really important.  What we found was a man you might describe as a Hungry Ghost.  I wanted my Mother’s love so desperately, that I went to that prison as often as I could.  He was a monster who felt he was entitled to whatever came in his reach.  I told my Momma that he had touched me but she said I had taken it wrong.  I tried to kill myself three months later.  Momma said I was just looking for attention.

Daddy’s alcoholism had hit an all time high.  I was constantly dueling with the Demon Alcohol.  My Momma had convinced me I had taken it wrong and I wanted to get away from Daddy’s drinking.  I thought I had made it all up in my head.  I moved in with Momma.  I moved into prison.  They really aren’t different after they leave work.  They come in and try to run their houses in the same way.  I was bullied and constantly fighting advances, being robbed of my self esteem and feeling as if I wasn’t safe anywhere.  I lived inside my head, searched for new age answers, wore a lot of black and imagined marrying Nikki Sixx as soon as I turned 18.

Instead, I left it.  I got out, quit school and learned the art of survival.  It is an art form.  I got a few good breaks.  Good things happened but I fought the effects of that abuse for years.  I think that’s why I’ve never stayed in one place very long.  I continued to beg for my Momma’s love and her husband continued to feel he had a right to make passes and try to touch me.  I put on a lot of weight hiding from men but wanting them at the same time.  Nothing truly changed until I visited my Momma in 2005 while living in Chicago.  He made a scene of coming in on me while I was taking a bath, wouldn’t leave and traumatized me.  Afterwards, he admitted to it when my brother Jeremy confronted him about it.  My Momma heard it.  She knew.  After years and years, she finally knew the truth.  She stayed with him.  It was at that point I was free to give up on her and start healing.   Healing is an operative word though, isn’t it?  At the time that felt like what I was doing.   Later, life has shown me different.  I still have a very long way to go.

I guess in telling you all of this, I want you to know I understand at least in part what you go through.  I know that special kind of monster that you deal with everyday.  I know what you mean and that makes knowing you’re there at no fault of your own so much harder to deal with.  I suppose we were both innocents…born with greatness but held down by something.  Life is suffering.  It’s true.  And what you said about pain being at the root of true wisdom?  I believe that too.

Momma is dying.  We’ve been astranged for years.  When I was little, I was warned about black people hurting me.  What somebody should have warned me about was that my love would be used against me and real monsters can come in and destroy your family.  My Sister tried to have a relationship with her.  She saw her as a victim but now she knows better.  It’s just taken her longer to see it.  I feel for her.  I’ve forgiven her role in it.  My Daddy gave up drinking and I forgave him.  He is a great friend to me. Somehow, it is harder to forgive my Momma’s husband because I do not see him as human.  I see him as a form of evil.  I still fantasize about pissing on his grave.  God, I hope they give that fat bastard a grave.  Cremation would be a waste on him and I deserve getting the chance to fulfill that fantasy.

I met a lady once and she said that you can forgive anyone by taking away the personal effect.  See that person as a stranger.  See that person like someone cutting you off in traffic.  I sometimes wonder what my life would have been if I had grown up in the normal ways.  No monsters.  No pain.  I imagine I would have been boring and that is something I’m never accused of.  I am strong.  I do not ask for anything from anyone almost to a fault. 

Unfortunately, what I have shared with you is not anything I share with others.  I don’t know how without feeling I’m a victim.  I meet people and they don’t have a clue.  It sometimes stands in the way.  It has recently. 

I live in a small college town.  Not long after moving here, I met a college professor.  I sure didn’t see him coming.  I figured him for the type to get inside my head.  I just didn’t expect him to move the furniture around.  The man has done everything right.  He did 4 years in the Marines.  He went on to get a Ph.D .  He teaches four hours a week in the Masters Department and makes six figures.  He’s impressive.  I guess that’s the best word.  He looks good on paper.  He’s incredibly beautiful like Narcissus and I feel like Echo.  I am Echo.

I wanted so much to impress him.  I’m a clever girl.  I’ve mixed and mingled with lots of impressive people and I dodged the where I come from and where I’ve been.  I show dominance and it’s not questioned. 

Robert saw through it.  He called me on my bullshit.  Who was I to tell him he was a Libra therefore he was indecisive and had his own concept of time?  He got so angry!  Historically, he’s proven me right but at the time he was so mad that I would try to tell him who he was!  He walked away from me fast and I was relieved.  When he showed back up and asked if I would like to try again, I was excited and very nervous.

I didn’t try to glamour him.  I tried to bend to him; something I’ve never done.  He then says to me, “You know what you are?  You’re a submissive. ..”

In one of your letters you told me that you’d like to design a tarot card deck around BDSM.  Do you remember this?  I didn’t understand this at the time.  It was out of my realm of experience.  Robert opened that realm up to me quickly.  I loved the need to serve him that I felt.  I couldn’t speak or share as I’m sharing with you, but I loved being submissive to him.

Being under his control and completely out of my own released something inside of me.  I learned that a slap to my face or being denied orgasm or being called a slut…things that should be painful added to my pleasure and made me feel more alive than I had ever felt.    I was masterslaved and as hard as I try, I find it hard to put into words.

Can I tell you about my experiences?  I need to put them down.  I want to share them with you and yet I do not want to offend you.  I wrote about one experience in my blog and a couple of my readers flipped out.  They couldn’t handle hearing of anyone showing dominance over me.

The power of our relationship isn’t the problem.  It’s the issue of me being unable to share my feelings.  I can’t be open about myself.  I know that it’s because I feel inferior.  I spent a life time surviving instead of thriving.  I haven’t accomplished what he’s accomplished.  My life has been different and I don’t know how to talk about it.  I’m embarrassed and afraid of rejection.  I’m afraid he’ll walk away and not just over a silly fight to come back but that if he knows how weak I’ve been and how I never got beyond the struggle of life, that he will abandon me and I’ll never feel what I feel with him.  I won’t have the chance to heal and that’s what he is for me.  He heals my broken places.

I know that you don’t have time to write and yet I long for your thoughts on what I’ve written.  I wonder if you think I’m insane to tell you all of this.  I wonder if you want to know more. 

Love and God,

Echo xxx

Rock Star

I’ve always loved a rock star and all that it might imply.  At four years old I could roll joints and knew all the words to Black Dog by Led Zeppelin.  At home, Daddy was a rock star.  He was sex, drugs and rock n roll on a 5 foot 7 inch stick and just like a Rock n Roll Daddy, he left one day and never made it back into the house.  He’d show up on Friday afternoons and would return us strung out on sugar, smoky scented hair and dirty feet on Sundays.  I would realize much later that Daddy was a high functioning Autistic with a with a serious drug and alcohol problem.  He was better in small doses.  In fact, he was fabulous in small doses.

With the exception of my daughter’s father, I have only found room for rock stars in my heart, mind and bed.   With the exception of my two unfortunate ex husbands, I have known that like Daddy, they are better in small doses.  They get under my skin.  They get in my head and move around furniture.  They come in and out and out and in and it never ends.  I tell you this pretty matter of factly as if I’ve known I’m a long time groupie, but that’s not true.  I’m just putting it together.

I think I’m finally putting a lot of things together.  I think you have to admit and accept whatever you are before it’s possible to change.  I’ve known for a while that I might possibly have intimacy issues and certainly don’t enjoy men or women in large doses but couldn’t quite figure out why. 

A few months ago I was stumbling around a book store and of all the shelves and of all the books I chose Deepak Chopra’s The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire: Harnessing the Infinite Power of Coincidence.  This book challenged a lot of my core beliefs and gave me a lot of new ways to channel Spirit.  I’ve meditated since I was a teen but I began using chants and different position.  I had always used mediation as a form of creative visualization.  Deepak asked me to clear my mind and not think of anything.  He asked me to do this in the morning and the evening.  I’d like to tell you that I do this everyday but I don’t.  Life is hectic.  Deepak had other people to contend with in my mind.  A few moments of meditation could not undo years of passion, denial and sin.

I finished work on Thursday and realized I had nothing to look forward to.  I had no plans at all outside of the gym, household chores and grocery shopping.  I wanted more.  I probably even needed more in fact I know I did and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why I found myself in such a lonely state.  So often I find myself waiting on the rock stars.  I have known better than to ask for specifics.  I just make sure I’m available. 

This weekend I began a new book by Deepak called Pathway to Love (or something close to that).  I began the book around New Year’s but quickly became irritated with it.  I think it was too much for me and I wasn’t ready for all the angles until this weekend.  Pathway covers a lot about relationships.  He had certainly encountered my type before and served it to me on a dirty paper plate.  I ate humbly and accepted my role in being lonely. 

And wouldn’t you know it?  The rock stars found their phones and emails and remembered how to text message.  The Professor waited until the weekend was completely dried up before asking if he could see me tonight after he finished teaching business to his Master’s Degree students.  Rich Ray who I left behind in Chicago emailed and asked if I would still come to Savannah Georgia  while he’s there on business.  For the first time in a long time, this didn’t make me feel especially wonderful.  The reasons I had accepted for their near always absences left me cold.  It’s hard when you realize that you’ve chosen to finish last with those you give the very most to.

You know why Deepak says my love life is bad? He says it’s because I don’t have enough of a relationship with God.  I am seeking God in others rather than seeking God in his truest form.  I think Deepak is right; it feels true to me.  I spent the whole afternoon with God yesterday and He’s hung around today.  I found I was nicer to myself with God around.  I was kinder and more loving to myself.  I looked prettier when I passed mirrors. 

This morning I sent emails to the rock stars.  I’m not a big fan of confrontation and there was no need to guilt them.  I set up these arrangements myself.  Instead I dug out an excuse; ones they had used on me at previous times.  I was amazed at how quickly they responded and how easy it was to put them at bay.  I like the feeling of role reversal.  Perhaps I will call on them at another time.  Perhaps I won’t.  Right now, I feel like hanging out with God.

I woke up at 3:45 am this morning and went to the gym.  I pushed my body against the elliptical machine like I would a rock star.  I could feel the sweat on my lower back and in my hair line.  I close my eyes and repeat old Indian chants that Deepak taught me.   I center all of my energy into the chant; not on what my mind or body want.  If I can push myself to my limits, I feel something far better than conquest or orgasm.  It’s hard to explain.  I spent most of my life avoiding hard work or exercise only to realize I enjoy pushing my limits and there is a pleasure found in physical pain.  I try to explain this to people and they don’t get it.  I try to remind myself of it everyday so that I don’t stop.  I want to see what I can create from that pain.  I want to watch myself transform into that painful pleasure I experience.

 I grabbed a banana, showered, packed my lunch for work and beat all of my guys to the safety meeting.   I gave away most of my lunch.  I just haven’t been hungry.  Perhaps I haven’t been hungry for food at all; ever.  Perhaps my pursuit of God and love and all those in between notions has left me starved.  It’s a nice concept.