It is hard, you know, being ‘in’ the game and not ‘playing’ games. That balance makes understanding the rules of the game that much more confusing, and as a life long proponent of honesty (not always carried out, but always condoned – don’t ask, it is one of the intricacies of the ‘rules’) it is very confusing to consider that honesty may not actually be the best policy. It turns out that honesty is so subjective, the concept is paradoxical. One’s honesty is only as true as the lens through which it is viewed. [It is that T.O.K. question all over again: Do we see things as they are, or as WE are? I believe that answer is becoming much more obvious.]
I feel clearer about things – life – than I have in years. Maybe ever. It is really refreshing. Better than that, it is totally relaxing. I never understood the amount of work that would have to go into arriving at a place where it is completely possible to not ‘sweat the small stuff.’ Perhaps this too, is a paradox of life, but either way, here I am. Parking ticket? Yeah, it is a pain, but whatever. Didn’t get every little thing done for work when I said I would? Not ideal, but oddly, no one seems to care and it dawns on me that through all those years of killing myself to be perfect (ha! – you laugh, and I see that now) I was the only one who really gave a shit. Everyone else is just caught up in trying to manifest their own version of perfection; amazingly they are not so concerned with my shit. Didn’t please everyone, every minute of every day? GTFO. Now that I have stopped attempting to embody the impossible I can really embrace the perfection of imperfection.
As a result, a sort of relaxation takes over, leading not to passivity or disconnection, but (again with the paradox – irony?) actually a sort of productivity and authentic appreciation of reality that was previously impossible.
Thus I laugh to read the email that makes a Langston Hughes-ian reference to me as a [dream?] deferred. Really? Deferrals? We shall see, professor. Further, I look with curiosity on the one who says, “no relationship, please,” unaware of the Jungian reality that “the meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed,” and therefore a relationship exists. How touching, in a sort of sad way, to think that genuine friendship – interest – a sort of kindness, could be interpreted as neediness, desperation… even worse, as “The One Who Came Before.”
I am pretty sure that these things would have caused me a measurable amount of distress not so long ago, manifesting in a compulsion to explain myself in ways that only served as evidence of that which I aimed to refute. Now? No need. You have a protocol you gotta follow? Okay. Send the email you were too – too what? – to send before, saved now by thousands of miles. Do the dinner date that makes you feel better as a follow-up for the “other thing” we did. Lay down the law about when to call or not to call. Whatever. It’s not about me, really, is it?
It’s your bag, baby. When you work it out, I may be around to look inside. Then again, I may not, and either way, Imma be just fine.
And some day, you’ll see; it coulda been that easy all along.
Hans plays with Lotte, Lotte plays with Jane
Jane plays with Willi, Willi is happy again
Suki plays with Leo, Sacha plays with Britt
Adolf builds a bonfire, Enrico plays with it…