“It is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be a reason the more for us to do it.” – Rainer Maria Rilke
I’ve lived with my boyfriend for the last seven years, but before that, I lived alone for several years. While I’ve grown to love the closeness of living with someone, I often find myself feeling relieved when I have some extended time for myself. There’s a breathing out that happens, and for a few days I just let my hair down (so to speak), let the dishes pile up in the sink and unwind whatever way I feel like doing. After that initial phase of embracing my inner escapist, I get back in gear with renewed enthusiasm.
The world isn’t set up to nurture people who enjoy solitude. This is a highly ironic truth given the fact that more people than ever before are living alone. Whether by choice or by circumstance, all they can do is make the best of their situation. I would like to suggest that embracing solitude is a tremendous spiritual tool. After all, we come in to this world alone, and we leave the same way; in between, we may as well grow accustomed to our intrinsically solitary natures.
There’s a delicate dance, though, between embracing solitude and becoming a lonely, isolated hermit. The key is to remain engaged with others (in person is preferable, but via telephone or internet is better than not at all) while enjoying the stillness and serenity of being alone. Of course, it’s much easier for a person who is in a relationship and lives with her partner to tout the joys of aloneness. I recognize that it’s harder to be isolated when it’s not your first choice. All I’m suggesting is to make the most of it, rather than being at the effect of its potential to induce moroseness.
If you’re alone and in a funk, try a little reverse psychology: think of the times you were amongst people and it made you absolutely miserable. Then think of the benefits of being by yourself. Make lists if you need to; the point is to engage in active appreciation of your solitude. Then, when you’re amongst a group of people, you can easily call upon the insights culled from being by yourself. This is always useful because, as Ram Dass famously said, “Wherever you go, there you are.”
In any community, regardless of the size or location, there are multifarious challenges in relating which all of us – as individuals and collectively – face at one time or another. Regardless of the specific circumstances, the goal of any group is to find a way to coexist peacefully and interact with others in a way that is beneficial – or, at the very least, civil – to all involved. The very fabric of society as a whole depends on these fundamental principles.
In my experience, the communities that I have enjoyed living in the most, and have felt an integral part of the most – from tiny pueblos to huge cities – have always been diverse to some degree. Whether the diversification comes from racial, ethnic, cultural, religious, political and/or intellectual differences, I have found that locales that are more of a melting pot (on any of the aforementioned levels) encourage compatible coexistence, if not necessarily tolerance and explicit interactions.
It is human nature – and it always feels easier – to remain in one’s comfort zones. We are all far more instinctively and unconsciously inclined to seek to engage with and appreciate people who look, think, believe, pray (or not pray) and behave in similar ways to our own predilections. But by ensconcing ourselves in this insular familiarity and self-created sense of “security”, we may miss the opportunity to learn new things. New patterns of behavior and edifying ourselves beyond our normal scope are what consistently motivate us to become greater than the previous sum of our parts. It is in seeking to surpass our long-held understandings that we truly grow, both as individuals and as members of society as a whole.
If my Italian-American mother hadn’t been open-minded when she met my West-Indian father when they were both students at Brooklyn College, neither I nor my uniquely wonderful brothers would be here today. My mother’s open-mindedness transcended her strict cultural upbringing. At the time of my birth in 1968, my maternal grandfather was a bigot only slightly to the left of Archie Bunker. Almost immediately after my birth, he became my best friend and surrogate father, and in time, he completely overcame his inherited racist beliefs. None of this would have been possible if my mother hadn’t had the courage to follow her heart instead of societal and familial indoctrination.
Over the years, I have become quite aware that some people view my innate friendliness and compassion with guarded suspicion, as though I must be hiding something up my sleeve. (Many more people have regarded and appreciated me at face value.) I make an effort not to judge the skeptics who doubt my true nature, because I know what is my truth. In addition, it’s a hard world to navigate, and sometimes the psycho-emotional mine field of daily living wears people down to the point where it’s all they can do to get by.
The problem with getting caught in the rut of survival instincts is that it becomes all too easy to become cynical. If we view everything with suspicion, then eventually, our capacity for hope and optimism will erode. This is why I make an effort to be kind as much as is possible: because there is so much enmity in the world already. But seeing everything in terms of polarities – kindness and enmity, etc. – isn’t necessarily a solution, either. There are too many shades of grey in between the absolutes, and – to extend the metaphor – there are also myriad majestic palettes of remarkable combinations of colors (experiences).
My purpose in writing this article is to invite readers – many of whom I already consider to be my community, my “circle of friends” – to make a deliberately heightened effort to appreciate difference, diversity and a fuller spectrum of what it means to be human. I invite you to choose something that is unquestionably the greatest challenge for you – for me, it would be having compassion for the right-wingers who are trying to dismantle women’s reproductive freedoms – and try to see the situation through your (perceived) adversary’s eyes. I’m not recommending in any manner that you should seek to adopt their point of view or even condone it in any way. I’m merely suggesting that you endeavor to shine a light of compassion into the darkness of their hatred.
As human beings, we can either keep bickering over base, insignificant trifles, destroying the once-pristine environment and the exquisite animal kingdom in our materialistic, frenetic distracted hubris; or else we can make a dedicated effort to find common ground with each other, and share our highest productive intentions instead. Considering the exceptionally dire state this planet is in, we would all do well to remember the fundamental, incontrovertible truth: that we are all in this together: and either we will all survive and thrive as a whole, or ultimately, none of us will.
I’ll leave you with the immortal words of Rodney King:
“Can we get along? Can we… can we… can we all get along? Can we stop making it horrible for the old people and the kids?”
In the wake of thatgirl’s reading my post here entitled “In Praise Of Older Men,” she and I got into a lengthy discussion regarding the dynamic of our mutual attraction to men significantly older than ourselves. Our conversation soon came around to the topic of having affairs or relationships with involved or married men. We decided to co-author this somewhat revealing first-person piece based on each of our own experiences.
While I have always said to myself that I would never get involved with a married man (and I never have), my now long-term boyfriend was involved with another woman when we met. He and I both managed to assiduously avoid our undeniable attraction for each other for four months. But it was certainly a “resistance is futile” situation of tremendous mutual lust for both of us, and his relationship with his girlfriend ended very soon after he and I got together. (I was single when he and I met.)
I have heard it said many times that it’s “not as bad” to have a sexual liaison with a man who is merely involved and not married, because marriage is a deliberate, lifetime commitment, and there are often also children caught in the emotional crossfire. I understand this rationale, but honestly, I think there’s a fundamental breach of personal integrity involved regardless. Granted, it’s of a comparatively different degree, but I felt guilty for what I had done nonetheless. Many years later, it’s now a moot point.
I’ll never forget meeting my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend for the first time, soon after they separated. He had gone by to pick up a few things he’d left at her place, and I’d gone along for the ride, as we had plans together later on in that general direction. Naively, I had assumed that if I stayed in the car, there would be no drama. As my boyfriend exited the car and walked towards her house, I saw his ex leaving her house, walking as if to meet him halfway. As she handed him the last of the toiletries he’d left at her place, she took a long hard look at me sitting in the car and admonished him, “How could you? She’s young enough to be your daughter.” (It sounds like something out of a Lifetime movie script, but it really happened. I felt about two feet tall at the time.)
As someone who has been cheated on before, I can say that I should have known better than to pursue someone who was involved with someone else. Certainly, I would make better choices now than I did when I was in my twenties. But, I have no lasting regret, because my relationship has been very enduring, enjoyable and worthwhile. Both my boyfriend and I have lived and learned from our past mistakes. What I wonder is why we – people in general, not just women – are so drawn to others who are seemingly unattainable. I’m sure there are mental health professionals all over the world who are still pondering that moral, ethical and highly individual enigma.
thatgirl:
I don’t think most people set out to form liaisons with unattainable/ unavailable people—at least not consciously. There’s more than one kind of unavailable, as well. The married or otherwise committed sort of unavailable is fairly easy to spot. They’re the guys who list “discreet” as their status via online dating sites; they’re the ones you meet over cocktails, and describe their marriages as “unhappy”, or they’ll insist that the divorce is all done but for the signatures on papers.
The other kind of unavailable was touched upon by MissLinda last week in her “IRL” dating post: people who are either emotionally incapable of an adult relationship, or those who, unknowingly, give off the “Not interested” vibe. This story is about the former kind.
A late spring in Rome saw me fall for a man 30 years my senior. Giovanni was world-wise and patient—a hand holder and door opener, which was so unlike the guys I was used to meeting in my early 20s. He had time for four-hour dinner dates, second bottles of wine, and bedtime phone calls from wherever he was traveling, in whatever time zone. It was an immediately enveloping and fiery liaison. Flowers and air tickets would appear at my building, and I’d drop everything, including my work to meet him, anywhere.
Months of excitement gave way to exhaustion, and the reality that I couldn’t keep up a developing career, and a love affair of international intrigue. I longed for a consistent sleep, more than a week or so in the same time zone, and time with friends. With Giovanni’s assurance that his business required the globetrotting, I ended it. Not one to take “no” for an answer, his invitations continued, unabated, until my overflowing voicemail box told him not to expect a response.
A business meeting months later brought us back together, if only for one more torturous afternoon of him begging me to come back. He almost tempted me, but I was resolute that I’d have my life on my terms. A flight awaited that would take me to a trade show, where a new love interest said he’d meet me over the weekend. I was walking down the jetway when an unfamiliar number came up on my phone. I answered it, only to meet my ex-lover’s wife. Who knew he had one stashed far away, on the North Shore of Chicago?
She scolded me for getting involved with someone so much older, telling me that I had my whole life in front of me. And besides, she added, he was a notorious philanderer, and would only wind up cheating on me. “Perhaps he is,” I replied, “but he’s your problem now!” and I promptly hung up. Giovanni spent the next 48 hours filling my voicemail box, begging me to return…and to never again talk to his wife.
This was a bit before we started Googleing people or otherwise checking the background of potential paramours. Considering all the time I’d spent with him, Giovanni’s intact marriage did come as a surprise. I did feel for his wife, who’d clearly been down this road with him prior. I chalked it up to my youth, and being drunk on the adventure, but I made it a point to avoid obligated men going forward—to the degree that anyone could.
Now I’m trying to help a girlfriend wean herself off the allure of her married lover. Part of me feels that her self-esteem prevents her from seeking something that’s better for everyone in the equation. Unfortunately, lover-man is happy to hang on, as long as she’s willing. She’s smart, funny, and over 40. I’m refraining from comparing her to Carrie Bradshaw… but perhaps that’s her story to tell.
With this week’s announcement that the Eastern Cougar is now extinct we need to protect the big cats that we still have left, while there is still time.
According to the Humane Society of the United States:
Threats to the African lion, such as trophy hunting and commercial trade, have resulted in a rapid decline of nearly 50 percent over the past three decades. There are fewer than 40,000 African lions in the wild — some scientists estimate as few as 23,000. And of the remaining populations, two-thirds are neither protected nor viable over the long run.
The African lion is headed for extinction. Its wild population has dwindled by almost fifty percent in only the last three decades. Action must be taken now to save this iconic species. We have collaborated with other organizations to submit a petition to list the African lion as endangered under the Endangered Species Act (ESA).
Even as lion populations plummet, lion trophy imports to the United States are on the rise. An ESA listing would prohibit lion trophy imports to the U.S. unless it serves a conservation purpose, and would raise global awareness about the need to protect lions from this and other threats. We must reverse the decline of the African lion and our petition demonstrates that listing them as endangered under the ESA would help to do just that.
Today, The HSUS and a coalition of wildlife protection and conservation organizations filed a petition with the Secretary of the Interior to list the African lion as an endangered subspecies. You can help by signing on to our letter of support.
PLEASE TAKE ACTION:
Please click the link below to fill out and submit a form to add your name to this letter of support for the Humane Society’s petition. They will deliver the letter to Secretary of the Interior, Ken Salazar, when the public comment period officially opens. Thank you.
When I casually spoke the short sentence, it felt true to me. But even though it was “merely” a lie of omission, I still sensed that I was walking on a very fine tightrope. Before this, I’d always felt certain of my unassailable honesty.
“He slept in that bed”, I replied, pointing to the twin futon in my large studio apartment. My response was to my current lover’s query as to where my overnight guest had lain his head the previous evening and night.
While it was wholly true that he had slept in that bed, almost immediately prior to that, he and I had had sex on this bed: mine. The fact that he was my most-enduring friend, my first lover, and someone whom I’d only slept with a dozen times over seven years didn’t matter at all to my current beau. Nor did it matter to him that his obvious judgment of me was steeped in unconscious hypocrisy: after all, he was sleeping with someone else as well. Yet somehow to him, I became the betrayer.
Sex with my ex had been a clear display of my own immaturity and insecurity. The sex had also been far less mind-blowing than that which I already shared with my current lover. But earlier the previous evening, when I had called my beau, his other lover answered the phone. So I took that as a sign that my twice-yearly reunion with my ex should definitely take a sexual turn. Spite-fucking is rarely pleasurable, but sometimes it feels more satisfying than doing nothing at all.
At last, I felt the scales had been balanced, and all was right in my universe. I disagree with the adage ” revenge is a dish best served cold.” I think that sometimes, justice is a dish best served erotically sweltering. I knew that my beau loved me, as I loved him, but until that point, my entreaties for him to be monogamous with me had fallen on deaf ears. Unsurprisingly, not long after my conjugal visit with my ex, my current lover told his girlfriend about me, and they separated soon after. My actions weren’t deliberately devious, but they clearly served a purpose in the grand scheme.
“Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies…” – Fleetwood Mac
Immortality, which seems like it might be something of a blessing, is often portrayed in books and movies as an abject curse.
From Tuck Everlasting‘s accidentally immortal family, unhappily traipsing through time…
to Wild Seed‘s crazily intense power-play between two African immortals: Doro, a shape-shifting, seemingly evil male and Anyanwu, the quietly wise woman who tragically loves him through the eons…
to Oscar Wilde’s brilliant cautionary classic of unchecked immortal hubris that leads to self-destruction…
to the spellbinding tale of a gorgeous immortal couple implausibly tainted by decidedly mortal problems…
to the story of sword-wielding immortals who must duel each other to the death, because only one of them can be immortal.
The exception to the “miserable immortals” rule is this book.
It is a joyous, sexy romp through the ages with deposed King Alobar and his lady love, Kudra, master of dance and perfumes. Together (along with the goat-god Pan) they travel the world in search of the guardian of a flask containing a mysterious beet-extract elixir which holds the secret to their continued everlasting life.
Tom Robbins has crafted the only story of immortality that I’ve ever encountered that has a delightful end (and the beginning and middle are equally wonderful). These immortals laugh, play, and make highly erotic, gymnastic, deeply passionate love.
To me, that sounds like a much better way to spend eternity.
“May all beings everywhere plagued with sufferings of body and mind quickly be freed from their pain. May those frightened cease to be afraid, and may those bound be free. May the powerless find power, and may people befriend all life. May those of all species who find themselves lost, the young, the aged, the unprotected, be guarded by beneficent celestials, and may they swiftly attain Buddhahood.”
—Buddhist Prayer for Peace
I received an email from a dear friend this week informing me that six weeks ago, she had to have her precious 9-year-old Silky terrier – a joyful little girl named named Mattie – euthanized, due to multiple health problems. Although it had been years since I’d seen Mattie, I wept for half an hour straight. They were tears that hadn’t come that forcefully since I had to have my rescued Schnauzer Lucky euthanized at the age of 2, also due to multiple, unresolvable health problems, last August.
When I finally thought I had composed myself enough to call my friend Bobbie, I found that I was reduced to tears again at the sound of her voice. Then she cried, as she recounted the excruciatingly difficult journey of losing her beloved and devoted pet child. Through the tears and commiserating, I came to an insight that has stayed with me: the only reason I can think of that precious animals should have such short lifetimes is so that we may be able to love more of them: to provide uniquely loving homes for the animals who are meant to be our companions. In my case, I have a passion for supporting animal rescue, since so many are unwanted, but no matter where an animal comes from, the important thing is that he or she is adored and cared for throughout whatever time it has on this earth.
So I invite each of you who are present or past pet-parents to join with me in a timeless prayer for the spirit of animals, in memory of all beloved animals who are no longer physically present with us. Rest in peace, precious Mattie (12/20/01-1/10/11).
“Hear our humble prayer, o God, for our friends the animals who are suffering; for any that are hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry…. We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity, and for those who deal with them we ask a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words. Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals and so to share the blessings of the merciful.”
– Albert Schweitzer
(pic of Mattie courtesy my friend Bobbie’s Facebook page)
CORRECTION: I got the basic source information for this article from an email I received from one of many animal rights groups I belong to. I did not thoroughly investigate the message, because this ruling happened on Tuesday, April 20, 2010, not earlier this week, as I stated.
Thank you to everyone who corrected me, and many apologies for my error. This is why I do not usually write news posts.
On April 20, 2010, the United States Supreme Court struck down a 1999 federal law banning animal cruelty – or “crush” – videos, showing the actual killing of cats, dogs and other small animals by stomping or other intensely cruel methods. The killings are filmed, and the DVDs are then sold to fetishists.
The Court, which voted 8-1 to strike down the law, based its decision on the fact that the 1999 law, which was passed by Congress, was too broad. Justice Samuel Alito was the only voice of reason and common decency dissenting vote. He insisted that banning the sale of crush videos was essential to stop people from abusing the animals.
For more information, see the PBS.org article, which includes a link to the complete SCOTUS decision.
If you’d like to donate to an animal protection organizations, here are some links:
Taking the right wing’s common hypocrisy to mind-numbing new heights, three major conservative commentators – who have been harshly critical of the demonstrations in Wisconsin by union members – all belong to the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists union (AFTRA), which is the AFL-CIO affiliate for television and broadcast workers.
Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity and Bill O’Reilly have have all been outspoken in their lack of sympathy to the struggles of public employee unions in Wisconsin. A representative for Glenn Beck denies that he is a union member, although it’s puzzling as to how that may be, since he, Hannity and O’Reilly famously all work for the same news organization.
According to AlterNet.org, which posted the story on February 26, 2011:
On Feb. 18, Limbaugh said on his radio program, “We are either on the side of the Wisconsin protesters or we are on the side of our country.” Hannity has featured several guests critical of the union and its supporters, including Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker, on his Fox News television and radio shows.
On the Feb. 18 edition of “The O’Reilly Factor,” O’Reilly stated, “Governments can’t afford to operate” because of “union wages and benefits.” But it turns out that opposing workers’ rights isn’t the only thing these blowhards have in common.
There’s a delicate dance, though, between embracing solitude and becoming a lonely, isolated hermit. The key is to remain engaged with others (in person is preferable, but via telephone or internet is better than not at all) while enjoying the stillness and serenity of being alone. Of course, it’s much easier for a person who is in a relationship and lives with her partner to tout the joys of aloneness. I recognize that it’s harder to be isolated when it’s not your first choice. All I’m suggesting is to make the most of it, rather than being at the effect of its potential to induce moroseness.
