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A strange and wonderful aspect of life tumbles through me with giddy pleasures and excitements.
From as early as I can clearly remember -- about age 11 -- I have resisted transitions. I haven't always resisted changes, but generally small ones. At least small ones to me. I've moved often, for instance. Those are mere outward changes.
Transitions, on the other hand, are fundamental shifts in perceptions. The world occurs for me as different. And, more to the point, as unknown. Transitions have always scared the hell out of me.
There have been several transitions in my life that I resisted or fought strongly. The first that I can remember was end of my comfortable view of family. I believed there was something intrinsic in blood relations that had love and understanding win out regardless of any circumstances. I tried for years to maintain that belief in the face of obvious indications that it was completely wrong. As an adult, I can see the underlying fallacy that point of view rested on. I eventually accepted the new point of view, but the transition was difficult at best.
The next transition was the end of god in my life. I desperately wanted to believe in the existence of god. I needed someone else to hold the responsibility for my future happiness. And I resisted my growing doubts. When the break finally came, when I could no longer fake believing, I was angry and lashed out against any and all believers. It took many years to create a calmness around religion.
Then came fatherhood. I was clear that I did not want to be a father, but it was the price I had to pay to end loneliness and separation. It wasn't until years later, that I realized that parenthood rather than a spouse was my real solution to feelings of loneliness and isolation. I was pushed toward a personal truth I didn't want to examine.
There have been a few other transitions including a reawakening in me of my pagan childhood. And at each transition, I have resisted moving through the fog into the unknown. It has never been easy and it has always been frightening.
Even now, I feel the pull of the familiar when facing the transition that is my relationship with Stacey. It is not going to mirror any friendship or romantic relationship I have experienced. In all the possible futures, there are those that are sharp and well defined and those that are completely obscured.
My history tells me to go for the familiar. To make what I already know work in this relationship. But that is just my history trying to repeat itself. It's the voice in my head trying to justify my past.
That, however, is not what the future with Stacey is going to be. It is the unknown that I want. It is the exploration of being that is available with her. Yes, there will be the day to day living that needs tending and life that needs living. But those things can be done anywhere with anyone.
It is transcendence that awaits. It is the miraculous. It is an eagerness to see what there is of me that I haven't seen. This transition -- the biggest of them all -- calls me forth at breakneck speed.
For the three years that we have been exploring our humanness together, the ease with which we move through ours fears grows. The ease with which we speak grows. With Stacey, I believe I have found my no-secrets relationship.
This is a transition that I want to remain never completed. I want to stay in the swirl of it's storm, drawing energy from it, surrendering superstitions, creating and destroying ways of being in the moment. It is this transition that marks for me the first moment of feeling and being whole and complete.
Stacey says it is so with her, also.
Sharing the unknown in its infinite diversity and through inevitable trials is a life worth living.
From as early as I can clearly remember -- about age 11 -- I have resisted transitions. I haven't always resisted changes, but generally small ones. At least small ones to me. I've moved often, for instance. Those are mere outward changes.
Transitions, on the other hand, are fundamental shifts in perceptions. The world occurs for me as different. And, more to the point, as unknown. Transitions have always scared the hell out of me.
There have been several transitions in my life that I resisted or fought strongly. The first that I can remember was end of my comfortable view of family. I believed there was something intrinsic in blood relations that had love and understanding win out regardless of any circumstances. I tried for years to maintain that belief in the face of obvious indications that it was completely wrong. As an adult, I can see the underlying fallacy that point of view rested on. I eventually accepted the new point of view, but the transition was difficult at best.
The next transition was the end of god in my life. I desperately wanted to believe in the existence of god. I needed someone else to hold the responsibility for my future happiness. And I resisted my growing doubts. When the break finally came, when I could no longer fake believing, I was angry and lashed out against any and all believers. It took many years to create a calmness around religion.
Then came fatherhood. I was clear that I did not want to be a father, but it was the price I had to pay to end loneliness and separation. It wasn't until years later, that I realized that parenthood rather than a spouse was my real solution to feelings of loneliness and isolation. I was pushed toward a personal truth I didn't want to examine.
There have been a few other transitions including a reawakening in me of my pagan childhood. And at each transition, I have resisted moving through the fog into the unknown. It has never been easy and it has always been frightening.
Even now, I feel the pull of the familiar when facing the transition that is my relationship with Stacey. It is not going to mirror any friendship or romantic relationship I have experienced. In all the possible futures, there are those that are sharp and well defined and those that are completely obscured.
My history tells me to go for the familiar. To make what I already know work in this relationship. But that is just my history trying to repeat itself. It's the voice in my head trying to justify my past.
That, however, is not what the future with Stacey is going to be. It is the unknown that I want. It is the exploration of being that is available with her. Yes, there will be the day to day living that needs tending and life that needs living. But those things can be done anywhere with anyone.
It is transcendence that awaits. It is the miraculous. It is an eagerness to see what there is of me that I haven't seen. This transition -- the biggest of them all -- calls me forth at breakneck speed.
For the three years that we have been exploring our humanness together, the ease with which we move through ours fears grows. The ease with which we speak grows. With Stacey, I believe I have found my no-secrets relationship.
This is a transition that I want to remain never completed. I want to stay in the swirl of it's storm, drawing energy from it, surrendering superstitions, creating and destroying ways of being in the moment. It is this transition that marks for me the first moment of feeling and being whole and complete.
Stacey says it is so with her, also.
Sharing the unknown in its infinite diversity and through inevitable trials is a life worth living.