Lately, I have been posting here instead of Facebook because I have been caught in this war between wanting to talk shit about my ex and not wanting to have to say anything, or even havingto face the temptation to check her page or have to take the step to erase her from my friend's list. What a pile of bullshit really, all that indecision in that area, but I am not going to sit here and berate myself for it. The truth is that it takes time, man, to figure out what you want to do, so in the meantime, I post here on occasion or just write post-it notes on my wall, and let my damn wall be my own audience for a while, and so far, that has been good enough.
But today, I did hear a wonderful sermon from Father Joe over at Sage Chapel, where he doesn't usually go, and I didn't shake his hand at first, because honestly, I have been experiencing a certain battle with my faith. As things have gotten better in so many areas, and little by little, as I have started to have more confidence in my own decision-making ability, the need for faith has started to subside a bit, but not altogether.
Mainly, I've been feeling resentful for the position that my early Catholicism put me in when I did meet my ex, or in which I had put myself, in trying to strive toward "spiritually strength" in as many ways as possible, or at least in being more willing to submit to "the will of God."
And here, I am mainly talking about that war between chastity and sexual desire; a never-ending war that I fought with my ex, who was very happy to see that I had a picture of Jesus up in both my living room and my bedroom. She felt that meant I was willing to "be strong" and try to be a "good person." Of course, her idea of being strong and a good person is all twisted up in the idea of purity and sex. In other words, the complete erasure of any sexual desires for all other women other than her. In other words, the possibility of being able to have complete emotional, sexual, and spiritual control over your own sexual energy, and to be able to direct it only to her.
Okay, well it sounded unusual to me at first, but I guess I thought that eventually she would finally be able to trust me and it would change. Wrong, it's fucking killing as hell, and hopelessly selfish, and it never changed. Why should you even want to have so much fucking control over another's person's sexuality? It's just creates more suspicion and insecurity rather than less.
So, whenever she mentions that song from the Smiths, "Please, please, please, let me have what I want this time." Beware, that is exactly what she is talking about, the desire to have total and complete loyalty from her partner and "soulmate"; to feel eternally and undyingly "in love" and "safe." Now, fine. Who doesn't want to feel that way at least part of the time? But do you really need to demand all of that impossible self-control from your partner in order to get it? No! That is the part she would just never give up on, and that even I couldn't quite understand, until well after I was gone. So, what you end up with is that you are only her "soulmate" insofar as you are willing to drive yourself crazy aiming to fulfill that impossible dream, even after you discover it is impossible. In other words, you are strong and worthy insofar as you are willing "to keep trying" even after you've told her a million times, that you really, really tried, but you really, really can't. Even after she seems to understand because you've never really, really tried anyway, right?
I know, duh, what a bunch of bullshit, but you see, here is the cause of my resentment. Had I not just converted to Catholicism and promised to accept the presence of sexual desires but to stop acting on them, I would have never even entertained these notions.
True, she was asking me to take things to a whole other level, but the point is, I was at least able to think a thought like this: who knows, maybe if I love her enough, someday I would experience that level of sexual and emotional fidelity. I mean, I had been able to give up a lot of things already. Who knew what else I was capable of doing. I thought it was at least worth a try.
In all honesty though, I had talked to priests back then, and they both told me the same thing. There is actually nothing morally wrong with you looking at women. It's not a great thing, but you don't necessarily have to stop for anybody. Ah, but did I listen? No, not really. Nobody does, once you start confusing idealization for what everybody else understands as "love."
In any case, I was trying to be a "good man," and I had yet to test out my own true limits, so I guess I can give myself some credit. I did not really know what they were. But now, yes of course, I can say, it's true; even if you're fucking Ghandi, it's impossible to give up all your sexual desires and never have to worry about them again. I mean, I was so mad when I read in Gandhi's autobiography that in order to test his progress, he used to sleep with his young nieces, naked on a pinche mat. Now, what the fuck is that? If the desire was so damn gone, why did you have the need to constantly prove it? The answer is that it never quite goes away, and I say that will all kinds of love, because we are talking about one of my greatest heroes here along with Cesar Chavez and Martin Luther King, all men of great spiritual and personal strength.
I mean, the ability too give up food for so long. I admire that as much as the ability to give up sex. I guess, I am to a certain extent, an abstentionist, even thought that is precisely what seems to have gotten me into trouble in the first place, so I am re-evaluating it. I just don't really feel like being all public about it as one would have to be on Facebook, but writing on this blog, is at least a first step in trying to clear up the mess that has become my own personal creed and ideology.
By that I mean to say that I walked into that chapel today cold as a bottle of Gatorade, wondering, now that I am feeling more capable of making my own decisions, what is the need of faith anyway?
I don't know. God, do I still really need to hear your voice sometimes? I suppose so. I suppose the hard decisions never really go away, even if they are getting a little easier these days.
But having gone through more than six months of dry and unoriginal or at least, uninspiring sermons, or perhaps not being in the "right" state, I was surprised to hear a good one from my own priest, a bit out of place, in a different context.
When he got up to the podium, he said. "I must admit, I am a bit muddled today." He then went on to recount how he had forgotten his glasses and gotten lost for twenty minutes trying to find a parking space. He then gave the most clear-eyed and sharp-sounding sermon I had ever heard him give.
He asked, "so what is the point of going out into the desert today?" And answered it by saying, "Well, sometimes, we need to have the courage to go into our own deserts in order to gain the strength to face the world."
I admit, I have been terrified to face the world lately. So much of what is most important for me to say is also the most humiliating things to say. Like for example, that sometimes I still think about my ex, not about going back so much as about getting in touch with her again, trying to tell her about the things that could "help her" again. Or on occasion, I still feel so inferior and ashamed about the fact that she moved on to a new guy so fast. Or even when I meet a new person that I like and they don't return my attention, how low I get. On most days, I still feel like a weak, sniveling, unlikable dork that lost his girl to some other guy, and couldn't even do anything about it. I mean, I was the one who left, but somehow, it still feels like she was the one who dumped me, even though I know how she is.
She often feels "un-dateable" and is prone to switch affections quickly. Perhaps that is why she tries to enforce your loyalties so much, because she knows that at any second you might change your mind about this. The fucked up thing is that she really passes on that shit. Eventually, you start to feel undateable too. Pero bueno, I don't mean to whine about it. I know how much people look down on that, and it's not even all that fun to do in public, but so much of what I have to do now is complain, that honestly, I have very little to contribute to any online community where everybody is just trying to show how happy and cool and creative they really are, most of the time, or how like-able they really are.
Well, I don;t really feel all that like-able anyway, and probably more people fel like that than they like to admit, but maybe I am just being too negative. Often times, I still just feel like complaining! I have plenty to say, and the last thing I want is to hear other people complain about my complaints. Like my oldest brother, who said on a balcony in Destin, stop feeling so sorry for yourself man. It's embarrassing. Maybe he didn't say the last part, but that's what it felt like. Shit, what the fuck. I think that stayed with me a bit.
I don't want to share or fall too in love with my own pain; not for a wild audience from whom I can get neither sympathy or understanding. Right now, I just want that shit from myself, and I guess perhaps that's why it has often been enough, just to write shit on my own damn wall, the hard physical wall that's right in front of me, and not on some uncontrollable cyber wall where so many fucking eyes are watching, and the whole goal is to get people to "like" what you "have to share." Shit, I don't want to have to convince anybody of anything right now anyway.
But then, perhaps that is why I felt like I really needed that sermon today, because by fearing those eyes, I clearly do care about what "they" have to say. But on the other hand, perhaps it has been as it needed to be, this withdrawal into my own internal deserts. I mean, in a sense it is great to feel free from that need to have to constantly share, and also, to not need anybody elses sympathy or understanding but yourselves, and maybe even God's. I mean, I just don't have that kind of need right now, and I don't see why I should even have to feel all that ashamed of it.
I mean, I don't have that much to hide, but I did need more of that time away. Eventually, I will use it all and get rid of that shame. But my goal, for now, is to regroup and recharge in order to eventually able to face the world in deeper and deeper ways, ways that go well beyond "Facebook" and that can really be of some help to someone. To instead focus on those who I can move and inspire; on those who's stories, dreams, and desires, can move along with mine; for those who are facing similar deserts, the ones that I have been leaving behind.
But I am still a little far away from some things. The space next to me at church remains empty. It's been empty for a long time, all my life really, except for a few months in the spring of 2011, and a few times when my ex tried but couldn't handle it. She felt threatened by the the handshake of peace that you are supposed to give everybody. What if you feel a connection with somebody that way? I did not give into that, though I did say, well, I guess, I'll try to sit next to guys as much as possible, which was still a way of "giving in," but at the time, I thought I was preserving a little bit of space. Then, when she said, well at least don't shake anybody's hand. That's when I "put my foot down." No, no no, I said. The handshake was the only thing I used to like as a kid.
But tonight, I remembered another time. It wasn't even a sermon that day. In fact, it was in the middle of the summer, and this friend of mine was visiting Ithaca for the last time with her mom. It had been such an act of freedom to let them stay at my house. My God, what an act of insurrection to play host for a girl and her mom, even though she, meaning my ex, was already with some other guy! In an case, it was one of the last days my friend was here, and we had stopped by a piano concert at the chapel. It was a hot day, so my friend was fanning herself, and her mother with the program. She sat between us, so it was easy to see her hesitate for a bit before she did it. She turned to me and fanned some cool air in my direction.
How sweet of her, I thought. I really like this girl, and I'm really glad I'm here, sitting in this church, listening to this piano music I don't quite understand. Still, I swear I did more things in Ithaca those few days they were here, than I had done almost the whole time I was with my ex.
I mean, real things, that did not involve me having to wait outside or feel all stiff because she might think I was actually looking at somebody that day.
Or walking down to Ithaca Falls, and seeing girls in bikini's with their boyfriend, and not having to worry about anybody's squirmy eyes on my face. What a relief. Meeting all those people, and going to all those dinners without having to worry that somebody wasn't going to be able to take it. Like I told my friend, you got me out of my damn worm-hole, I said.
I guess I have one more memory. Walking by the slope, I asked, did you ever slide down it? My friend said no, then proceeded to walk right down to it, and sit on the grass like a slip-and-slide.
Later, in the laundry-mat, trying to take the stain out, we made conversation with the friendly guy that cleans the place. For two years, I had done laundry there, and never even thought about making conversation. My whole goal had always been just to go there and enjoy the silence for as long as I could.
I felt some part of me coming back that day. That part of me that didn't see the world as some big threatening place, that part of me that was willing to start facing the world again.
Without anger, fear, or shame.
