TheBanyanTree: Reflections in a muddy pond

Thu Jul 18 13:09:38 PDT 2019

I reread.  You know. People of grammatical conscience do that.  And I found, to my great chagrin ……..

>> Meyshe, in
>> this regard, you are no different than anyone else?

	What was that question mark doing there?

	I apologize.  And for all the times I left out a close parenthesis:         )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

			I bet that’s not enough.

> On Jul 18, 2019, at 11:41 AM, Pam James <pamjamesagain at gmail.com> wrote:
> 
> what a fabulous answer!  anybody worth your time is asking the same
> questions of themselves!!
> 
> On Thu, Jul 18, 2019 at 2:25 PM <tobie at shpilchas.net> wrote:
> 
>> Why Russ,
>> 
>>        What were those echoes?  Do you mean to tell me that I’m not alone?
>> 
>>        Meyshe is 32 now and longing for a sweetheart, but he has no idea
>> what or who or when or how.  He’s autistic and that makes it so much
>> harder.  We went to SFMOMA on my birthday, Monday, and he told me he was
>> afraid that if he fo9und someone, he would ruin it by something he said or
>> did.  "What do I say? What do I do? How do I meet someone? What will she
>> think when ….?  What if she thinks that ….?"   I listened for a while, just
>> aching, really aching.  Neuro normals feel uncomfortable around people on
>> the spectrum.  Where will he find someone?  He’s been asking me questions
>> since he was 10 years old, like, "Will I make a good father?"  (Lord! What
>> 10 year old boy asks questions like that? For that matter, what 25, 30, 40
>> or 50 year old boy asks questions of himself like that?)  When I listened
>> to Meyshe’s confusions and yearning, at least I could tell him, "Meyshe, in
>> this regard, you are no different than anyone else? Just remember when you
>> meet someone you like, she will feel exactly the same way. No one knows
>> what to do or say until you break through the unfamiliarity and can be
>> yourself.  When you feel safe being yourself, then those questions don’t
>> have such weight any more."
>> 
>>        Did that soothe?
>> 
>>        You tell me.
>> 
>>        The point is that while the chemistry is being shuffled and
>> tossed, that’s how you’re going to feel.  Maybe it’s when the chemistry
>> settles with someone is when you start feeling that you can be yourself.
>> But how can anyone know?
>> 
>> 
>> Tobie
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>>> On Jul 18, 2019, at 6:51 AM, Russ Doden <russ.doden at gmail.com> wrote:
>>> 
>>> Dear Tobie,
>>> I have read, and reread your post and see echos of my own 72 years.
>> Only I
>>> had no procreation - by choice, but still no procreation.  As always I
>> find
>>> insight and wisdom in your words.  It's good to see your words again.
>>> 
>>> Russ
>>> 
>>> On Wed, Jul 17, 2019 at 4:52 PM <tobie at shpilchas.net> wrote:
>>> 
>>>> Wednesday, July 17nd, 2019
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> Just hold on a minute,
>>>> 
>>>>       I just turned 72.  This seems strange to me.  It is true that
>> I’ve
>>>> packed a whole hell of a lot of experience in between my squeezing (or
>>>> being squeezed) out into the world and now.  Times in my life that once
>>>> were freshly rotten now are distant and mature.  By that, I don’t mean
>> that
>>>> the memories are faded or any less vivid.  No.  They are redolent.
>> There
>>>> have been just so many events crammed in there on the way to 72.  At
>>>> various times I remember being thoroughly engrossed with, "How’z this
>> going
>>>> to turn out?"  It occupied the furrows in my forehead and worried me
>> during
>>>> the process, tripping me up, making it hard to navigate.  And by now, I
>>>> know how most of those things turned out.  This is, at least,
>> educational,
>>>> and I learned my lessons well  —  that is, EXCEPT where hormones were
>>>> involved.  Talk about tripping me up!
>>>> 
>>>>       It’s pretty clear, isn’t it.  The mind works, lessons are learned
>>>> unless it has to do with love, mating and procreation, even if
>>>> tangentially.  I’m sure there are plenty of people whose response to
>> that
>>>> would be, "But without the hormones where love, mating and procreation
>> are
>>>> concerned, it wouldn’t be much fun!"  And where I go with that is a
>> state
>>>> of wonder, confusion and intense curiosity  —  not about love, mating
>> and
>>>> procreation; that’s unambiguous.  I’d have to question these people
>> about
>>>> their personal definition of fun.
>>>> 
>>>>       I do know how to have fun.  I’d just have a very hard time trying
>>>> to isolate the fun that, evidently for those folks, shines through all
>> that
>>>> anxiety, humiliation, disappointment, frustration and huge, swollen
>>>> abscesses of self-doubt, recrimination and self-loathing.  Yes, as I
>>>> recall, self-loathing figured prominently in the love, mating and
>>>> procreation arenas I slogged through.
>>>> 
>>>>       What arenas would those be?
>>>> 
>>>>       The most common arena was the one where I’m pushed out onto the
>>>> great stage while the lions are released, sauntering from the opposite
>>>> direction  —  this, while the crowd in the Coliseum munch their popcorn
>> and
>>>> look at their score cards.  They’re impatient, nearly disinterested.
>> This
>>>> is only one act of dozens.  The professionals go on later, much more
>>>> engaging, more skilled.  The pros know how to put on a show with
>> sparkle,
>>>> drama, pizzazz.
>>>> 
>>>>       Another arena would be the Barnum’N’Bailey three ring variety.
>> In
>>>> this one, I’m under contract as a trapeze artist  —  the high wire
>> without
>>>> a net variety  —  the skimpy sequined skin- tight one shoulder outfit
>> that
>>>> itches fearfully.  My contract, however, is a cruel ruse.  My torturous
>>>> costume, the intense training, the soul throbbing terror (when I swing
>> out
>>>> there at maximum amplitude and let go, will my partner’s timing be
>> right?
>>>> Will he catch me?)  What I don’t know is that I’m actually the clown
>> act.
>>>> I was completely fooled.  I was even under the impression that my outfit
>>>> was meant to be alluring.   Not the case.  What was I thinking when they
>>>> put that shiny red bulbous nose on me?  Oh!  This was a lesson I would
>>>> never forget!  But I did.  It’s easy for you to judge.  You can see the
>> big
>>>> red nose (and hear it, too; it honks), but I’m inside here looking
>> out.  I
>>>> can’t.  Still, the next time around it would be so unlikely they’d try
>> the
>>>> same stunt twice.  After all, I’m highly intelligent.  They know I’d
>> figure
>>>> it out.  They wouldn’t dare!  Oh yes, they would.  They know
>> intelligence
>>>> has absolutely nothing to do with it.  Besides, they have every reason
>> to
>>>> be confident.  They even order those noses by the gross in smug
>>>> anticipation  —  those and the whoopee cushions.
>>>> 
>>>>       A third arena (this one seemed to be a favorite of the trickster
>>>> god: god of love, mating and procreation, in charge of the hormone
>>>> cabinet).  This one was a Salem witch trial.  Risk free, simple, really.
>>>> I’m there to prove I’m worthy, truly the perfect, "UN-witch".  And it
>> goes
>>>> like this.  When I say, "Go," they throw me in the vat of water
>>>> (brackish).  If I float, I’m a witch.  They haul me out and burn me at
>> the
>>>> stake.  But if I sink, I’m innocent, worthy, an, "UN-witch".  I drown.
>>>> 
>>>>       So I could be missing something, but I can’t find the fun in any
>>>> of those.  And that’s the benefit of hindsight at 72.  As I answered the
>>>> call and arrived to live these love, mating and procreation arenas, it
>> was
>>>> always as if it were the first time  — my memory wiped clean.  Or was
>> it my
>>>> cognitive awareness that was wiped clean?  "Clean," is not the right
>> word,
>>>> really.  Nothing was wiped clean, though one could argue that the word,
>>>> "wiped," applies after a fashion.  The memory, the mental faculties,
>> either
>>>> or both, got slopped and clogged with hormones.  Of course, this is all
>> so
>>>> easy to observe at 72.  Now that it’s too late, I can assure you I won’t
>>>> fall for any of that shit again.  And at 72, it’s pretty safe to promise
>>>> that.
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> Oh yeah.  There’s more.
>>>> 
>>>> Later for you.
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> Love,
>>>> 
>>>> Tobie
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> A tease:
>>>> "Where are you headed to after this, Mr. Zeno?"
>>>> 
>>>> And a phony:
>>>> "Can I help?"
>>>> 
>>>> THS 2017
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> Tobie Helene Shapiro
>>>> mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net <mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net>
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
>>>> 
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>>> 
>>> 
>>> 
>>> --
>>> Enjoy Life By Living In Joy
>>> 
>>> Well Being Consultant
>>> www.rldwbc.com
>>> 
>>> 
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>> 
>> 
>> "Perfection is an illusion."
>> Meyshe Benyomen Shapiro-Nygren
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> Tobie Shapiro
>> mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net <mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net>
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
>> 
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> 
> 
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 Keep your eye out and note everything you say and everything you do, and 	ABSOLUTELY everything you put in writing, because you never know when someone will come after you.  And no matter what you know you did, said or meant, they may prove you wrong in a court of law.  And that's the only truth that matters.        THS   2014

Tobie Shapiro
mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net <mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net>