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I’m on page 100 of “To the Field of Stars” and it’s an awesome book to say the least. It does its job of painting whats in store for me on the Camino road ahead.
I’m sitting here waiting for my next client. They’ll be here any minute. I don’t want to massage! I want the entire day to myself to read and bullshit on my blog.
The man who wrote To the Field of Stars sounds an awful lot like me. He’s a friendly chap, loves a good chat, loves humanity and compassionate people, but he, like myself, gets annoyed by others.
Here’s the dark truth to my nature; Do you want to hear it? Are you ready? People annoy the fuck out of me to the point where I can’t stand their company unless I pour a shit ton of liquor down my pie hole. The more differences we have, the more I want to distance myself. And I’m talking about good, wholesome people too. Not just the assholes.
The thing is, in order for me to connect with a person, they have to be themselves. They have to be authentic, genuine, self-aware and considerate. It’s simple to connect with me as long as you’re being who you are. The farther you stray from yourself, the farther I stray from you. It’s that simple. I can’t stand liars, stubborn people, complainers, buyers of $600 purses, people who talk endlessly about themselves who don’t let me get a word in edge wise. I can’t stand people who take and keep taking, whose needs are impossible to meet.
I move away.
As crazy as it sounds, my buddy Dave and I connect. Despite everything he does. I mean it when I say I can connect with anyone as long as they’re being themselves. And Dave is always himself.
It’s so easy, but people make it complicated. Everyone needs to let go of their fear of embarrassment. By judging themselves less, they are more open to others.
I meet a lot of people in my profession. I mean, up close and personal kind of “meet.”
“Hi I’m Melanie it’s nice to meet you. Now take off all your clothes and lay on my bed while I give you a thorough touching.”
Okay, I don’t actually say that. I don’t actually call my massage table a bed.
It’s just that I meet so many people, that it’s starting to feel as if I’m becoming more of a fixture than an ever-evolving person of substance. I’m a barometer when it comes to people’s authenticity – a GPS in telling just how far away they have moved from reality. I am the immovable line, like a horizon. I become the base point, the listener, the teacher. I don’t flinch while other people’s shit pass over me.
I sit quietly listening to them with the stillness of my lucid, forgiving eyes and assess their anxieties, their stress, their emotions – I see it all. I see everything. And I know exactly what everyone needs.
I just want to shake them until they come to their senses.
“Okay stop. Please just stop. I know, I know, I hear ya, life sucks. But please shut up. Come here. Right here and look me in the eyes and stop looking inward. Just shut the fuck up and look at me! This is all there is. Right now.”
I don’t like to be needed by anyone, and I don’t like people disrespecting my need for solitude. The people most damaged are usually the ones who sap up all my gravy. I can only handle them in small doses. Like, one hour increments.
Not everyone is crazy, and I don’t always need to liquor myself up. But people have untouched places inside of them. A place that forms their intentions, a place where need and fear stem. If they ignore that place in them, they will never know true freedom or true honesty.
I can see these blind spots. I can see people’s true intentions, know their stresses, their needs, and secret manipulations. When a person is unable to see this part of themselves, and continue in their grand illusion of “controlling” what’s around them, I can’t be around them. I shrug my shoulders and say “whats the point?” There will never be a point. There will never be a connection. The relationship has no meaning, no substance and instead, becomes a game of who’s on top – who has power – who’s needed more, loved more. This game people play ultimately leads to resentment. When resentment happens, all is lost and everything’s taken away. Both parties lose because both are at fault.
I can’t hang out with idiots. They drain me. I physically feel my energy being pulled away.
Amy was authentic, she was herself and didn’t care what people thought of her. But she didn’t have control over that blind spot in her. It consumed her until it became too painful hanging out with me. She was so blind to that spot, that she didn’t see the true reasons as to why I upset her. She unconsciously filled in the blanks. Her brain was trying to make sense of her uneasiness towards me and filled in the missing pieces as to why I was no good, or why I made her feel unsettled.
She was so blind to her own fears, her pain, her needs, that it became impossible for her to ever know the real reasons as to why I hurt her. But these made up reasons, to her, those reasons were fact – they were very real. She wasn’t lying and meant every word regarding my inadequacies of being a true, loyal friend and an irresponsible business owner. And because she believed this so vehemently, made me feel like I should listen and take heart. I listened until it escalated to the point where all sense was lost. I snapped back to myself and confronted my own emotional neediness to cling to others out of my own fear of being alone, having no meaning or purpose to living. I learned once and for all, I learned how to let go.
It’s because of Amy that I gleamed these insights. I still love her. She still teaches me.
Dave is authentic and completely aware of everything he does, but does it anyway whether it hurts someone or not. He ends up hurting himself. He hurts himself with his own guilt. But I believe he can change and he know’s that he should. There is room for improvement in everyone. The ultimate goal is to achieve happiness and peace of mind.
I’m surprisingly tranquil for someone who is in constant repair. That’s how I know I’m on the right path. I am tranquil godammit!
People can learn so much from each other. Mindful communication, intentional listening, an authentic connection that can only be achieved by allowing yourself to be free. This is where creation comes from. It’s love, it’s inspiration.
I just want to be a good person. No, not just good, but the very best version of myself. In order to do that, I have to confront my own blind spot. I have to learn my pain, why I hurt, how maybe it’s possible that I, myself, manipulate out of fear, hurt, need – it pains me to go through this with myself. It would be so much easier to not see and to just live and float each day hoping to stumble upon meaning (since the meaning has no substance, it’s replaced with control and power). The way into this undefined meaning, is to steal it from others so you get ahead of the game. You have a place and a purpose.
But what the hell do I know…..
I’m just a hungover chic who went out to a nudy bar last night and got slapped in the face with fake tits.
It’s so bizarre. I’ve been asked to go to the Gold Club by two separate people on the same night. This never happens! I found it extremely odd, so I had to go. I just had to. I never been there before.
I sat up front near the stage in a comfy red swivel chair. When I leaned back in it, it made me feel like I was a king presiding over important matters in my kingdom. Sitting back in that chair also made me feel like I was a sleazy scumbag throwing the lowest denominations at a poor dancer who desperately needs the money. It was empowering me with illusions of having wealth and power. It’s like wiggling a dollar bill in front of me like a worm on a hook – having no compassion for the girls themselves, only seeing what they can do for me. It was such a weird feeling. I felt like an anthropologist learning the ways of human behavior. It was completely new to me.
And for the record, I WAS compassionate. I didn’t want anything from them. I wanted to give them money because I was sitting in the red comfy chair near the stage, it would be rude not to contribute. I felt like I was at a slot machine and needed to feed it money. I wanted to give the girls money, but didn’t want them to dance for me.
But they danced for me anyway. The more they danced, the guiltier I felt for not giving them more. I was so conflicted. I knew if I gave them more, they would continue to dance for me. I was so confused, and during this confusion, a latino woman on stage said to me, “come here baby doll” and she guided my head into her breasts and shook them around. I felt so guilty and awkward. I hate that about me. I unconsciously turned my face away, and as I turned, I felt guilty. I felt guilty and wanted to give her yet more money. I shouldn’t have been sitting up there in that big red swivel chair.
I absolutely hate this side of me. This side of inhibitions. It’s nearly impossible for me to let go of my inhibitions. But the question is, if I let them go, would I actually enjoy having boobs in my face? This question, along with all those other thoughts were occupying every facet of my brain.
“Would I enjoy this if I let go? How would I know? What’s keeping me from letting go?”
Shit, that is a whole other topic – a HUGE topic and quite honestly, I’m not up for the task. But my inhibitions ARE embarrassing me. They are childish, really. They are a divider.
By setting your inhibitions scale, are you actually setting your common decency beliefs? Not letting go out of respect for others? Or is it about boundaries? Aren’t setting boundaries a good thing? I’m just so confused. Not confused sexually, I know I’m pretty much straight (especially after feeling absolutely no sexual arousal), but I don’t want to be uptight. Uptight is not fun, it’s not real and it’s limiting.
I want to take a bite out of all this world has to offer. There is so much of it!
My head hurts. I’m done thinking out loud for today.
Oh no wait, I just want to point out that strippers actually really like stripping! They feel powerful, in control, wanted. While the men, depending on their emotional maturity, also feel powerful, in control and wanted. The strippers and the watchers feed off each other. I never knew this about strippers before I seen it for myself. It makes me feel better about the whole thing. It makes it okay to let go of my inhibitions because it’s a win win situation and nobody’s getting hurt or degraded (depending on maturity level).
But I can’t let go…
Writing is like sex.
“Yes that’s it oh yeah baby thats the mark right there you nailed it! Yes yes YES!”
And now just for you my friendly readers, I shall climax (hit the publish).