Today, after my morning shower, I felt like this: flexing in front of the mirror, red-hot from the steam, pasty, and happy being naked.
Today, I signed up for Shambhala Training Level I: Ordinary Magic at the local Shambhala Center. The levels read like levels of a video game. Level II: Birth of the Warrior. Level III: Warrior in the World. I can't wait till I get to Level XVII: Death Grip, or Level XXIII: Power Sword.
I forgot to mention: Bradford, while wholly competent to make or break a party simply by showing up, hits like a girl. I did my best Fight Club on him at Snaxx. Hey. Hit me as hard as you can. And he did. And no bruises the next day. I'm not saying he's not a man. I'm saying that if you want to be clobbered, you might want to look elsewhere. Of course, at Snaxx, he was the best option at hand.
Number of dates I went on last week: 3
Number of confirmed dates this week: 3
Number of people I will repeat from week to week: 1
I had a lot of fun at Snaxx last night. My best friend was there, from New Orleans, and he said, out of the blue OMG you're like the hottest guy here and I would totally want to fuck you if I didn't know you. The bartender has learned my name, although I don't recall telling him. He gives me every third drink free. Many of my best friends in New York arrived. I also saw a photographer who I adore. Bradford arrived, bringing the joviality level up by double. Saw the usual suspects, including this musclebear from New Jersey who everyone wants to sleep with and who took a long and extended grab of my behind early on in the programme. The party is perfect: good music, fun people, two blocks from my house, and every other week. It's like the cool people from a tightly wound Eagle crowd have migrated to a space where they can unfold their box and unpack it a little, showing us what's inside. There's not much more going on than showing off, but it's a delightfully sweet and warm showing off.
I'm taking a few months break from my coach. This worried me, so I spoke to her about it. She said you will expand during this period, so enjoy it! I have taken her coaching.
There's a beautiful bud of a flower underneath all the crap of our daily lives. It is who we really are. From it, all our power can flow, if we uncover it, let it blossom. I've spent a lot of time moving stuff out of the way so I will blossom. The bloom came out this week, at all hours. And, on my coffee date this week, I saw it in my date, although I think he doesn't fully see it yet. So I won't tell him about it. That frightens folk. Instead, I'll let him discover it, me content to helping him peel back some layers. Like extraneous blankets on the bed, on a warm night in January.
It's incredibly gratifying to be sitting at a meeting with Alex Garvin and having him tell you that what you're writing about on your architecture blog is exactly what this city needs to elevate the level of public debate. It took my former employers 10 years to get to the point where they could meet with him. I've been in business 18 months.
Today is another day that feels like January 16th. Ace.
OMG my 15 week old puppy can shake. As in "shake", and he gives you his paw.
I can't tell you how many of my days feel like this.
(image from Le Coq Sportif 2005 Look Book)
On my ever-expanding list of places to make out in New York, I add:
The elevator in my building, 3:22AM, Saturday morning. We took the elevator to 3. It rang when we arrived, but by then we were in the corner, making out. And we continued for about half an hour, when we got tired of standing. No one else called the car, and so we were still on 3. We were in an in-between space, a space where there can be ultimate privacy (unless there's a security cam), like a friend's bathroom, yet where I am so rarely with those I wish to make out with. I know a good opportunity when it crosses my path.
Last night, I went to meditation at the Shambhala Center, only a block from my house. There is no excuse to not hit this milestone: it's only an hour a month, and they have open group meditation every Tuesday. Of course, I tried to get out of it. Busy. Tired. Hungry. Puppy Management. Everything except it's so far away.
I fell asleep three times during the thirty minutes of silent meditation. First, I couldn't keep my eyes open. Next, I'd be leaning forward ready to fall off my pillow because I was dozing off. I've never fallen asleep during meditation. However, when the teacher rang the gong-bowl-thing to end the meditation, I opened my eyes and was clear. My mind wasn't loud anymore: it was still. So even as my mind was telling myself, during the meditation, this is totally not working, I'm not getting it like I used to, it turns out I was getting it and it totally worked. I was able to meditate on the 25 second elevator ride up to my office this morning. It's like riding a bike, once you get the initial balance: you never forget.
When my former co-fiend and I went to Tokyo a year ago we took a day-trip to Kyoto to visit some temples. He wanted to show me the one where he'd gotten his prophecy, Machibito kamino michibiki ari, which, he was told, translates as the gods guide us to those we have been seeking. He received this Zen prophecy at the temple after a very early morning meditation session. When he returned to Tokyo the next day, he'd received his first Friendster message from me, the beginning of our relationship. Indeed, life brings us to those we have been seeking. I believe that statement more now than ever.
That temple was beautiful. But I only had a spiritual experience in a single temple, not the one he'd been to. It was the temple of Zenrin-ji. It has a sculpture of what the Japanese call Mikaeri-no-Amida, which is an Amida Buddha whose head is looking over his left shoulder. Amida Buddhism: Pure Land Faith, teaches that one will certainly be reborn in the Pure Land of happiness by calling on the Amida Buddha's name, nembutsu. The buddha of eternal light is not facing forward, but to the side. The wrongness of this image was like the broken rose window in the Milan cathedral, or the Francis Picabia-esque cubist mural of the crucifixion, in Washington University's Catholic chapel, where the Christ's body is obliterated completely by the violence of the cubist brush strokes: it captivated me, put me in a place where me, who ruthlessly doubts his beliefs, can be welcome in a place where masses unite to have a religious experience. I was stunned. Then, I read the little english plaque in front of me. It said:
The priest Eikan was highly respected and honored by the people of that time, because of his great contribution to social welfare. Early morning on February 15, in 1082, when Eikan was walking around the altar, chanting nembutsu, suddenly Amida Buddha came down the altar and began to walk ahead of Eikan. So astonished Eikan could not move, then the Amida Buddha turned back over his left shoulder to look at him and admonished, "Eikan, you are dawdling."
By the end of last night's meditation, I was no longer dawdling.
My coach said You've given me a great gift, which can never be repaid. Then I got what I'd been missing about generosity. It is something freely given, without thought of return, yes, we covered that. But what I didn't see was that there is no possibility of return. You cannot ungive, or be paid back, for a gift. There are no refunds or exchanges possible, because you were never putting them in debt.
Last weekend, I had a lot of sex. We kept the puppy up, and wow, what a nightmare that is. Never wake a sleeping puppy. Or baby.
Anyway, I needed a nap, from all of the screwing and puppy yapping at 4am, so I took one. I took a chance and let Kimble on the bed while I dozed off (he still likes to randomly pee/poo) and when I looked over, just before I fell asleep, I saw him on the edge of the mattress, sphinx style, facing the door to my apartment. He was guarding me. Not bad for 13 weeks.
Just before Kimble came to live with me, my neice, who is seven years old, asked me two questions during one of our telephone conversations: "Why aren't you living with your boyfriend anymore?". Because we aren't, honey. "I know why you're getting a puppy. It's so you won't have to be alone." True, and so there's someone to watch over the campfire when I'm asleep.
Sometime around the beginning of October, I realized that I was not feeling love. I had feelings other than love, affection, admiration, and inspiration. Feelings like anger, jealousy, betrayal, abandonment, and sadness. Didn't quite get to despair and hopelessness, but that's probably because I was pretty healthy when things changed so rapidly. I felt hurt. Despite having everything, I felt I had nothing. I'm not talking about possessions: I felt empty.
This weekend, during a foggy and rainy moment, I had my new technical parka on (my inspiration: "something that Han Solo would wear on Hoth, technical, but recognizable as a parka). It was partially zipped, the messenger bag strap twisted the coat a bit so that my hood was off center with my face. Under the parka I look great, together, trim, yet noticeably bigger, rounder and muscular shoulders, arms, chest, legs, butt. But with the coat I looked a little drippy and disheveled. Little power's white earbud cords were hanging out of my off-hood, delivering a song that fit the weather. In short, I was representin' my best Goonies look, 2006 style. Work. And something happened. The sidewalk came alive, as if it were a charged plate, and I a piece of iron, slowly becoming a magnet. I realized it wasn't coming from the sidewalk. It was from me. There was a power emanating from me, into the wet concrete, the wet trees, the wet pavement, the wet luxury condos not yet done, the wet pizza shop, the wet people, the wet dogs, the wet dog poo not yet picked up, the wet church, the wet newspaper stands, the wet garbage, the wet parking meters, the wet street lights, the wet everything. I have an excess of everything: happiness, peace of mind, joy. I have so much to give, always. Who I am is Love Always. It just welled up, a joy that did not easily fit in with the rainy city, or the annoyingly melancholic tune I switched off, or any part of the serendipity I was experiencing a moment before. I simply switched to the real me, the me that has so much to give, and I cleared out everything else. It was just getting in the way: I'm already so full.
Kimble on the LC4, New York City, January 5, 2006, 9.09PM.
from my correspondance, today:
ps- did you know that teddy roosevelt coined the saying
'dont go there'
referred to a decadent dessert saying
this is going directly to my thighs.
Yes, I am going to go there. I met someone who knew you many, many years ago. There was a great deal to discuss. More to come.
ps all work in this domain is copyright chad the minx.