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June 21st, 2007
03:24 pm - [Choose Love.]
The other week or so I went on a float trip and we lazed about in inner tubes and floated down the Salt River. It was perfect. And I got sunburned. Really sunburned. Mostly on my belly since when I first put on sunblock I was wearing a wife-beater and later I took it off so that my unprotected stomach was vulnerable to the sun. I have also had some of the most bright and colorful tattoos ever for well over a decade and I've learned to baby them and keep them safe. So my arms were cool but my belly was entirely forgotten about.
Later that night I was spending the night at a friends and I was just in agony. It hurt to move. And my friend offered to put some shea butter or something on me. I refused at first and then later I accepted her offer. And it was nice and it felt better and still I freaked out. Internally only, really, but I wanted her to stop and I really wouldn't let her do it again. I slept on my side of the bed that night.
Later on I remembered something from my past that I had really forgotten all about. And to tell you about this you should really know, if you don't already, that I was raised by bikers in a tattoo shop and who lived above an 'Adult Book Store'. A bulk of my family worked in the porn distribution and production industry. I saw adult movies in various stages every since I can remember. I recall going to work with my uncles [I had tons of uncles. Real family and extended family.] in the 'Adult Book Store' and after the place closed I would go in back to the coin operated peepshow booths and sweep up all of the lost quarters.
These guys would come in and cash their paychecks there and they'd get a good percentage of it paid out in quarters and they'd use them in the back booths to feed the machines and jack off. It's dark back there, of course, and with one or both hands busy it becomes tricky to navigate the quarter slots and naturally they'd drop plenty of them on the floor. And nobody in their right mind would want to grab around down there on the floor in the dark. So later, with all the house lights on, I would go back with a push broom and sweep up the quarters to the end of this step and into a bucket of bleach. And the next day I'd have like $30 in quarters for Pac-Man.
When the place would get raided by the feds or the sheriff for some charge I'd have to go next door to the tattoo shop and be babysat until bail was made. And on and on.
One year, just a day before my birthday, I was severely sunburned. Bad. From playing outside on the Slip-n-Slide, I'm betting. And so I couldn't go to my own birthday party the next day. The plans had been made way in advance and the pizza joint with the animatronic animals was all booked and paid for and all sorts of people were coming from all over the place for the party. [Bikers do know how to have a good time. Seriously.] And the sad fucking fact was that I couldn't go to my own fucking birthday party. So I was left with a babysitter. [She was one of the 'book store girls'.] So I'm there at home. Sad as hell about the party and hurting from the sunburn and she is watching me just lay there in my Underoos underwear and she is sad for me and tries to make me feel better. She insists that I let her put some lotion on me and that she will be very careful and that it will feel better. So I let her and she does and I remember that day entirely. The pattern of the couch as I just sort of stared off into it while she moved her mouth down between my legs. [I still, to this day, can't really let myself be in a woman's mouth. It's difficult to explain.]
I was just a small child and even then I recall feeling really sad for her. I knew that this was not what should have been happening and I also knew, as I know now, that this was just one of the only ways this woman knew to show love. I was talking about this to a therapist friend the other day and he asked me how the memory of that made me feel. And I told him that I was glad that I learned early on all of the sad and beautiful ways that people show love. And how sad it is for them that they only know those ways to show their love. And it's sadder still they love to them could only ever mean just that.
Look, I have forgiven her a long time ago. In my head I feel like I forgave her the moment it ever happened. And forgiveness does mean giving up all hope for a better past. And I have been thinking about forgiveness for quite some time now. It has been my mantra as I realize that when you really don't forgive yourself and forgive others for the crummy things that happen then you do, without question, murder all possibility for love. And I really want to love myself. And for the record I really think I finally am beginning to. Awful things happen to people every day. It's just something that happens. But love can happen too. And it does.
[And it does.]
And another way I'm learning to really forgive is to let go of the stories that I tell myself, and others, about the hurt that I have endured and the hurt that I have caused. I could say that a person was an evil person that had no regard for my feelings and behaved poorly in order to find a way to cause me suffering. I can go on and on about the horrific ways that others, and myself, have behaved. And to quote the Buddha again, "He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me,"--in those who harbor such thoughts hatred will never cease." And the hatred will never cease if we hold onto those sentiments. I know that this is true.
And so I tell myself another version of the story. I remind myself that we are, like all living beings, only ever hoping to alleviate our own suffering in order to find happiness. And sometimes we do or say things that we might not really mean or intend. More often than not the hurt that people cause us in unintentional. The hurt we cause others is unintentional. It's rare for people to really seek out to cause specific harm or hurt to a person. Hurt just happens. Everyone is really only ever trying their very best in any given moment to be happy.
I'm also figuring out that most every sort of conflict comes from one of three simple issues. Am I safe? Am I good? Am I loved? That's it. Every fight or conflict we get into and every upset we experience can be boiled down to at least one of those three things. If we feel unsafe or not good enough or unloved then we tend to grasp for anything that might allow us some form of relief. Johnny Rotten of all people said something like, "When people feel powerless they will do or say most anything in order to regain some sense of control or power." And that is the truth for sure. And we have all been there. And we have all caused hurt. And so, by default, don't you think it's a fine idea to offer up forgiveness?
I'm not sure about whether or not this makes any sense or not and if you can make sense of any of this rambling. I just have been thinking about all of this for so, so long and I wanted to work some of it out.
[I choose love.]
Current Music: The Cure - Close To Me (Closer Mix)
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I choose love too. Thanks for your stories. I am in love with a man who I have been with for almost four years. He and his wife have an open marriage and I guess we are all poly although we don't date others much, but we can and that is nice. I wasn't interested in this kind of relationship before I met him. I just fell for him, the first time I fell really, the first time I have been really loved well by a man. Sometimes I struggle with not being the wife, not being the only one, but each year it is easier and I see how we all help each other out, how we don't limit our life and love by including others, but expand it. My being able to love him so much and yet still know he loves another in an equal way that he loves me has only benefited me....anyway, diferent than what you were talking about, but also kind of the same.
p.s. his other significant is a buddist and believes polyamory and buddism work together, she has been amazing and never demending in any way. I always remember what she told me once - nothing holds someone like an open hand. Thanks for sharing what you have. I'm getting a lot out of just trying to make some real choice to just expose myself completely and I'd wager it's good to talk out loud about a lot of things.
I send you a hug and solid handshakes. [Life is, of course, beautiful.]
Amen, brother. Thanks you for this. It is one of the most poignant and beautiful writings I have ever read here - and I've been in LJ seven years. Your honesty is brutal, yet touches my heart with love. I never know what to say to you when you say something like this to me. I have this grand vision of you. Who you are and what you are capable of and, for whatever reason, I am always suprised that you even read my journal. I just think that you are an amazing person. I do.
Thanks again, as always, for the kind words. Nothing need be said, Jason. I read you because you are a wonderful writer. I respond because you touch me. You respond because we happen to be walking the same path at this moment. :-) Still, I thank you for responding at all - your comment added to the miracle of my day. ![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/62496707/946520) | | From: | ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1) wailaki |
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| Date: | June 22nd, 2007 12:09 am (UTC) |
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Those of us (and you know who you are) who have lived life on the knife's edge, have all been brutalized. And we have all been adored. The trick is to keep swimming, and to let it all slide off of us as soon as the rush subsides. You and I are lousy Buddhists. We care too much. I think my problem is that I take everything personally. And how can I not really? All my life I have searched for value and truth and I have not let the chance pass me by to hunt for messages from the universe in even something so simple as the woodgrain of the fucking coffee table.
And maybe it is that we care too much. But, just now that I think of it, I think we are just less-afraid to hurt. So we do continue on with our hearts at the helm. ![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/103900062/1633585) | | From: | ed_dirt |
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| Date: | June 22nd, 2007 12:54 am (UTC) |
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Thank you, Jason. It's almost 2:00 am, here and you just made me glad I stayed up to read one more journal entry.
"And forgiveness does mean giving up all hope for a better past".
I will carry that with me forever.
Thank you. Thank you Matt for linking to this.
And thank you Jason for posting this.
And so I tell myself another version of the story. I remind myself that we are, like all living beings, only ever hoping to alleviate our own suffering in order to find happiness.
I really needed to hear this today. i always want to read traditional Buddhist texts but my brain wanders off too easy. reading your distillations and real-life examples is really helpful. thank you. You ramble good, and it's good to read you working it out.
How little are we talking here? Like 8? Or older? Pre-puberty? I think about some of the stuff me and my friends did in 1975, and we were only 11. Seems kind of unbelievable now... ![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/19277680/601784) | | From: | chefxh |
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| Date: | June 22nd, 2007 03:29 am (UTC) |
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amen and amen, and I love you. oh, Jason.
your good heart beats so strong.
I want to meet you and smile to your eyes and hold your hand.
you are a teacher, my friend. ![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/19573369/15253) | | From: | vert |
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| Date: | June 22nd, 2007 06:06 am (UTC) |
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[breath]
It's almost 2am and I'm sitting here and had saved this post for later. I knew when I saw the volume of it, it would be worth reading and made myself promise I'd sit down and read this when nothing else was on my mind. It's 2 hours past my proposed bedtime and I am so very happy I decided to procrastinate on sleep again.
I used to tell stories of myself all the time, to anyone who would listen really. All of my heartbreaks and tough times (that really weren't that tough). I wore it like a medal sometimes. Then one day, just like that, it stopped hurting. I hate repeating myself but I loved everything that had happened. I realized that if it wasn't for all of those things, I wouldn't be the person I am now, and I love the person I am now.
When you talk about forgiving this woman, about seeing right through what she was doing into the why, and all of the heavy weight and depth of what was happening, I feel like I understand it more than I could ever explain. I can't figure out why. I've never been in a situation like that, but I've seen through the eyes of people who have been branded something negative or pigeonholed into a place no one wants to be and somehow, as a fleeting glimpse, saw right to their beauty. And their beauty is almost always linked to a reason and those reasons are almost always so pure if we look deep enough.
I went to see The Flaming Lips several months ago, and it was one of the best nights of my life. But my favorite memory, even including from all of the complete and utter happy insanity, was he was asking the question in one of their songs "Is to love just a waste?" and he answered it. The lights were bright and the crowd was hanging on his every word and his face was projected onto the screen and you saw the shake in his head as he said "Of course not... Love is never a waste." I don't even remember what was said before or after, that was the important part.
One other story, maybe the last one (can I promise a maybe?). There was once a girl I fell deeply in love with, and due to several circumstances, it didn't work out. I ended up being crushed with a broken heart and all. We stopped talking and with time, somehow, reconnected and are best friends now. And although it feels slightly arrogant to think so, she has this baby now that is the most beautiful thing I've seen. She says she's God's Smile to her. I suddenly felt no more jealousy, and I no longer regretted losing her. Because I saw this and it took me not working out with her, for this absolutely beautiful, giggly, nose-picking and tongue-sticking-out little person to exist.
I don't know where I'm going with all of this, or if any of it makes sense in context. It just sort of hit me in all of these places at once. Your story of the girl though, it reminds me of Seymour throwing that rock at Charlotte. Do you remember that part? Do you remember Seymour's reason? And although Buddy sort of discounts this way of explanation, I can't help but have to believe Charlotte forgave him, right then and there, whether she knew it or not.
I think I've skated around things for long enough. I don't even know if any of this makes sense but I just felt the need to write something and this is what just came. I just want to say thank you for these words and your stories and these looks into your head and heart. They give me faith in the good of people, and not just in you and these lovely people in your life, but in all people. They serve as constant reminders of how absolutely fucking gorgeous life is and how goddamn important and powerful something like love can be.
And with that, I'll end this right here also with a promise: I'll choose love too.
Take care, you.
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