Rewiring the System


Midnight Blues

Posted in Uncategorized by rewiringangel on May 28, 2009
Tags: , , , , , ,

It is late and the phone rings.  I saunter toward the phone on the other side of the bedroom and say good evening.  I get a barrage of how long it took me and how many rings he had to wait … Why was I so slow?  I said it was only three rings and he was off on a tirade.

How can I inspire this man to be the fine gentleman within his upstanding group and to act as chivalrous and attentive as if it were the first meeting for the first date?  I ask myself, as I hear the voice on the other end of the phone, and wonder at the tension in the disembodied voice streaming into my place, into my ears and shivering throughout my body, how to remain opened to the seeming abuse and try to see what is really going on. 

What causes a person to be so controlling?  Do I need to know or understand? What do I want? Is it a spiritual, intimate, ceremonial, sacred communication he offers through his voice?  On the other hand, how many years have I longed for the warmth and glow of a lighthearted personal undulating attentiveness that brings us into union?  I want him to feel honored with my time and attention as I hold the phone and listen.

How can I convey respect and receive that same care?

We met at the Downtown after a few emails exchanged.  Is there any care at all after these more than four years or am I just an unimportant dot in an unmarked world of dot less complete strangers? I am not known, though I am not a stranger. I shimmer with the light of universes and am arriving at healthy self-esteem slipped out of the dusty historical cocoon at last!

He calls just to keep the connection alive with a semblance of pulse, but seeing one another is of no matter.  

I ask for help in an endeavor where I need a man’s hand and it is not acknowledged by a response. 

In matters of the heart, what is of value between the two people talking on the phone? If there is a sacred spot, in him will he wake up in time or will he squander the tenderness that lives inside when his mouth is not bullying.

His hair is short and clean. Does he brush his teeth? I think not.  I think he feels that brushing scrapes the covering off his teeth so he is less able to bite of people’s heads when he is in a funk.

What do you enjoy doing I wonder?  Did you enjoy calling me?  I feel not.  I feel it was a marker in a once a week contact point with no information exchange of what is really going on or what could go on. I wonder what the vision he has of himself and a female friend. I want to feel connected and have it be fun as art in motion.

My Motto:  Why let a little reality spoil a completely relaxing evening. 

I am reading about building partnerships between persons who come from different cultural traditions and different ‘isms’. It is my striving to understand interfaith and intercultural marriages but the in depth study offers insight into my own many facets.  I remember my dysfunctional childhood and see that his dysfunction was quite different.  He might say that he was better off with a nuclear family since I was abandoned into foster homes and eventually into an orphanage. 

What is true is that we all have childhood issues that must be faced if any of us is to have a delightful afternoon in the sun of possibilities.  Mid life is a great time to see the long view backward, though I know twenty something’s who are questioning their upbringing and seeing only the flaws and not the fondness.

I have a practice of feeling my butt on whatever seat or space it is at the time of my questioning and bemoaning.  Be here now is hard to understand but feeling the seat of your pants in any moment then feeling the air or lack of air on your face settles emotions. 

Just a breath while looking around where I am holds down the quivering tension.  I allow me to see others and myself objectively in the action-filled moments here and now as I gaze back into the near past.  I can then choose to move forward leaving the harsh moments to dissipate as I remember the 400 count sheets awaiting my body calling me to slumber in comfort.  I will wait to see what happens next, another day dawns and not give  this evening conversational ‘it’ a thought as I listen to my breath and fill my belly with  ionized air.

If there is nothing I say that he agrees with then that is his problem and he is not here in my apartment right now and there is no disembodied voice lingering after the hung up phone.

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