A constant companion and benevolent provider, the Angel of Death walked side by side with the Toltec warrior.

The warrior knew the day would come when the Angel of Death would take back what was rightfully His. The warrior knew that everything in his life, even life itself, belonged to the Angel, and was being offered to him in temporary loan. The Angel provided all he needed, so in this sense the Angel of Death was also the Angel of Life. The Angel had provided parents, and then taken them back. The warrior was grateful for the gifts of his parents. Food, clothing, shelter, teachers, friends and relatives had been provided, and the warrior was grateful. They also had been taken back by the Angel of Death. That was the normal way of the world. The warrior knew he did not own possessions; they belonged to the Angel of Death.

The warrior was also aware of the parasite living inside him. The parasite wanted to own the Angel’s possessions, to consume them, and to consume the warrior himself. The warrior was aware of the life long battle with the parasite.

So the warrior walked on, grateful for what he was given that day, grateful for his constant companion and provider, grateful for another sunrise and sunset, even as he knew they had already been taken back by the Angel of Life and Death.

Yesterday’s history.

Tomorrow’s a mystery.

Unwrap each day like the present that it is.

The Trail Not Taken

Two trails diverged in a yellow wood,

and being unable to take them both

and have one butt, long I stood

considering my rear for as long as I could

until I felt bad for its overgrowth.

…

Two trails diverged in a yellow wood.

And me, I chose the one cut wider-ly.

My butt made all the difference.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apologies:

Dear Mr. Frost,

Sorry about that. But don’t spaz out. I’m pretty sure your poem was better. Please, do not turn over in your grave! Thank you very much.

Ferd

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves

This song, “Mirror Mirror” by new artist Diane Birch strongly reminds me of something. When I was 42 years old I received a gift. A really great one. The Universe must have decided I was ready to receive the gift of Introspection. It had prepared me properly for it by giving me free rein to use my thoughts, words and actions to thoroughly mess up my life, over and over again! So at age 42 I did my first 4th step.

I remember taking it very seriously. I was actually looking forward to it, as opposed to the many people I know who dread it. I sat down with pen, journal, and the time to do it justice. It became one of those experiences that are forever etched in memory. I started writing down my first character flaw, then the second. I started writing faster because I had a long list of “issues” in my head and didn’t want to forget them as I was writing them down. When I got to about twenty, and actually saw the mess that was me, the tears started to flow. I got to thirty… then forty… I stopped somewhere around 50. By then, the tears were mixed with smiles and outright laughter. You see, the tears were only a little about the pain. They were mainly tears of joy! In those moments, I saw the problem, and the solution! I saw that I alone was responsible for the mess I was in, and not everyone else. I truly realized what an imperfect person I really am, jumped off my pedestal for good, and joined the human race.

I have a mountain of flaws and defects. I am a “project.” I’m okay with that. I don’t mind working long and hard at difficult projects, especially when they are me! What I’m grateful for is the awareness of exactly what the problems are. When I know the problems, the solutions are close behind. The gift of 4th step introspection gave that to me. The key. And I value it because I know that not everyone gets to have this gift. For whatever reason, many people are unable to really look inside.

So, thank you Diane, for this nice reminder. And thank you for your lovely youthful spirit that shines brightly in “Bible Belt.”

How to Push Her Around

This subject is not that difficult, but I see young men mess it up time after time. The question, “Does this make my butt look big?” has become a cliché. A popular book is entiltled, “Does this clutter make my butt look big?”  A famous humor blog writer, who happens to be my friend Kathy at The Junk Dawer, just wrote a post entitled, “Does This Car Make Me Look Fat?” But at its core, this subject is no laughing matter. When a guy is presented with this question by the object, I mean woman, of his desire, he better get the answer right, or he’ll have to quench his desire with a cold shower!

After years of careful observation, I have learned that the correct way to answer this question politely is based entirely on ethnicity. And I know I must be correct because this is very simple, and simple is usually right.

If your woman is either black or hispanic, and she asks, “Does this make my butt look big?”, the polite response is, “Yeah, baby! Bring it to me!!”

If your lover is anything else, you should grace her with, “Big??? No way!!! You look curvalicious!!!” Of course, you must be perfectly sincere.

How difficult is that? It always pays to use good manners.

You’re welcome.

Thanks to Jen at Sprite’s Keeper for yet another excellent Spin Cycle prompt.

Eric had become very upset, but it was not exactly clear as to why. Gail couldn’t get him to either calm down or to explain why he felt that way. She couldn’t diffuse the escalation.

She figured this could have been happening for a number of reasons. Eric wanted to go to the mall and was told he could not. (He had nothing to do at the mall, other than to get more agitated and into trouble. Gail knows better than to take that risk on by herself at those times.) The TV was turned off because Eric’s favorite driver was losing the NASCAR race, and this was increasing his agitation. He was caught sneaking into things, and he hates being caught. He will not be able to see his father next weekend as he will be in NC with Gail and me that week. All this, and/or who knows what else, could have been a reason for his fit.

So he was starting to get in Gail’s face. By that I mean with clenched fists, inches from her face, no matter where Gail turned. He would stop her from doing whatever she was trying to do, blocking her way with what most people would interpret as a very threatening face and pose. He was staring at her and pounding the walls and cabinets with his fists. He was in a rage, yelling a cussing. He then started throwing things all over the house, knocking down chairs, and such. In the past, violence has gotten much worse.

Fortunately, Gail was able to break through by threatening to cancel Eric’s visit with his father today. Eric loves the occasional time he spends with his father. So he voluntarily went up to his room, and gradually the pounding, yelling, cussing, and agitation settled.

This is all very disturbing for Gail, too. She has been through it hundreds of times, but they each take their toll. Gail tries very hard to provide a structured environment for Eric, and to provide verbal and visual cues for him, to maintain some measure of sanity. We have a PECS system on the refrigerator that Eric looks at all the time to know what he is to do next. He would be lost without the help and direction he gets from Gail, and from his school and program staff. Eric is very disabled by his condition, and it is a valid excuse, but it doesn’t take away the horrible toll it takes on my wife.

So today, Gail again proved her Princesshood to me. Even though she was pissed, even though she was hurt to the point of tears for the thanks she gets (“you fucking bitch!!”) for all she does for her son, even though she is tired, really tired of all this endless shit,  she helped him figure it out.

She presented him with a series of typewritten questions, because he can see them better than he can hear them. Also, she had to entice him into cooperating with chocolate chip cookies (which works for me, too!) She asked him to circle the right answers.

Why I was mad and angry

1) My favorite driver is Tony Stewart and he was not winning.

2) I wanted to go to the mall to buy a toy and my Mom did not want to take me there.

3) I thought I was grounded for having a fit.

4) I did not get to watch the rest of the race because I was having a fit.

5) I snuck into my Mom’s bathroom, closet and pantry and she caught me.

6) I like to get mad and have a fit.

7) I want to go to my Dad’s next weekend but I will be in North Carolina.

Eric circled numbers 2 and 7. He got a cookie. Gail continued with another typewritten sheet:

What does a fit get me

1) I think that my Mom will change her mind.

2) I want to scare my Mom.

3) I want to hurt my Mom.

4) I like being angry, throw things, call my Mom bad names, cuss.

5) I am angry with myself and I want to be grounded.

Eric did not circle any of these. He got another cookie. And then another typewritten page, this time with some insights:

1) Tony Stewart cannot win every race.

2) My Mom did not want to go to the mall with me. It is very hard for her to wach me to keep out of trouble. I get into things, I do not listen to her, I stare at girls.

3) Toys are meant for children or kids who are young and small. My Mom is not comfortable with me buying toys because I am an adult.

4) When I am angry, my Mom likes me to go to my room. When I am in my room, I cannot break things and cannot hurt her. I am safe and Mom is safe.

5) I cannot watch TV always when I want and what I want. I lost that privilege when I ordered the inappropriate movies. My Mom had to pay for them.

6) Sometimes I cannot go to my Dad’s when he wants because I already have something on my schedule on that day.

I’m sure you noticed this is written in the first person. Eric understands it much better that way. Gail will sometimes also address him in the third person. For example, she might say to him, “Eric knows what he is supposed to do.” Don’t ask me why, but he seems to respond to that.

And finally, after another cookie for his cooperation with all this, he got the last typewritten sheet:

What can I do when I am angry

1) Figure out why I am angry

2) Talk about it with my Mom and my Mom will help me

3) Do something to calm myself.

He circled 2 and 3. She asked him to write down a few things he could do to calm himself. In his chicken scratch, he scribbled:

Chair (the massage chair we have for this very purpose)

room

music

Lessons learned.

I’m talking about my learning. I’m not at all certain Eric has the mental machinery to retain this information or to behave better next time. But there is a lot of wisdom here I can use for myself.

That’s my Princess!  I married up!