it all started well, i had the privilege of being able to vent "all" my ill formed perceptions about my own broken relationship with success. that "all" must be read like "some," it is just that i feel that there is much that i want to complain about success.
i am no foreigner to success, but to me this is one subject that i rather not handle, it is an hot potato of some sort, and i have memories of having my fingers burned time and time again. this is what i fight, the negative side of success, that which i call getting my fingers burned, that thing that hurts the most, how others end up interacting, and how i end up in a muddle. i have gotten used to muddles and i am tired of muddles. success is something i have gotten used to associate with both guilt and shame. no, there is no rationale here. none at all!
a dear friend who is recovering from a concussion after a fall some days ago while he was in kuwait, called yesterday. i am still savoring that he called. he is a friend of mine with whom i enjoy an intimate and very privileged friendship, the other, the blond, the delicate one. other than the physical details, it seems that i use the same descriptives for all my relationships, friendships, and other i-ships.
ignoring and oblivious to that oddity of my friendships, we touched base on our malaises, he is rather busy with his life and his daughter, while i am rather busy with mine and my son. after he asked a second time about how i am doing, i vented for the second time yesterday, my uneasiness with myself, and when i told him that i have the distinct feeling that i live in a reality very far removed from that of those around me. he just said something that leaves me with a sensation of validation, while totally uncapable of recalling his exact words. strange!
i have honed my listening skills so that i can repeat verbatim a sequence in a negotiation, but then, when i am in an environment that i call home, that is, being with this friend, i seek validation. i search for nurturance, and it is as though the words themselves where not important, just what i wanted to hear, just my interpretation of it remains. besides validation, i also got the distinct impression that i fret and spend my energy unwisely on many an occasion.
the architecture of that abstract construct of my reality is fascinating. it is time to get back to my zafu, my running shoes and when all the pains of whatever abuse i have given my body, it is time to return to the tatami. it is time to throw it all away, once more. it is time to start fresh.
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