March 30, 1998

Quiet Sanity

The day wasn't that productive. Though a lot of that wasn't really through anyone's fault. It just was a Monday kinda of day, and things just got kinda lost between the cracks of thought and possibility. Hrm. If I really think about it we actually got through another use case, I did manage to get my old project to a point where I could do constructive work on it again, and checked all that back in as a usable project under MKS RCS, which was quite a bit of a job in and of itself.

I also enjoyed some of the silver monkey white tea. I have to get more of that stuff when it comes out again in the spring.

The bad thing that happened was that I didn't get a letter from Markleford, after a long conversation with him where I'd felt like I'd gotten somewhere with him. And I was tearing myself up over it. Not a constructive thing. It was also not a particularly useful thing, nor a thing that was anything but habit, I think. I really don't have a reason to, anymore.

So, instead, I wrote about a dozen or two letters to Raven, talked things over with him, and then he wrote back, and said that he'd like to see me sometime, so I said why not tonight? He's good about that. He thinks I'm crazy, but that's okay. I always have something happening in a week or two, a few days or something like that and never something Right Today. So he says that it's okay, and that he'd like to do that, and that he's free. So I tell him around 7pm, as it'll take me a little while to ride the bike and shower and stuff, and he shows up when I've only been on the bike for five minutes. So I send him out with Fezzik to take a walk through the woods and stuff. So he goes off with the dog.

Smart man, he lets Fezzik lead. I get through all the things I have to, and John cooks dinner, thank everything, and then we sit and eat and talk and watch the NCAA men's Championship game's last few minutes. Fezzik comes back with Raven, and Fezzik is all muddy and wet and happy. Raven looks equally happy and recounts his adventures following a dog that figures out that the human is going anywhere he wants to go. Fezzik figured it out quickly enough to try for a garbage can, but Raven stopped him.

It was pretty amazing. After that, John disappeared upstairs to do work while Raven and I curled up under a blanket and listened to my two new CD's and then to Surfacing again and talked and talked and talked. About Markleford, about what was going on in Raven's life, about Fezzik, about the whole oddity of being spiritual without a specific religiously paved path for following, about singing and music, inspiration and the touches of creation, comicbooks, my relative likeness to a girl he knew in Columbus, about hope and dreams and thought and fear and pain and all kinds of things. And we played. Lots of stupid jokes, lots of giggling, a little tickling, and just sitting and being like two-year-olds with lots of things to laugh about and explore in our heads and hearts.

It was good, clean fun, and it got a lot of nightmares out of my head. Including a feeling of anger and helplessness at having my dreams classified. I had to take my dreams back, at least. Markleford had said that they had looked tarnished to him, and I couldn't take it. Had a really nasty dream, and so I blamed him rather than taking responsibility for it myself. Just talking with Raven about it got me to figure out the obvious thing to do, which was to take responsibility and ownership of my dreams back. To remember that they are mine, mine to have, to hold, to write down and to keep.

We sang and thought and wandered about stories, and myths and each others adventures in life, so that was good.

I gave him a quick shoulder rub, just the upper back, mostly because my hands were in a lot of pain from work and all the typing I was doing. But his shoulders were mostly cable and stone, so I had to work pretty hard at 'em, and it was worth it to have him just relax a bit and not be all hunched in the shoulders when I finally got to really just talk with him. That was pretty keen.

The relationship is so keen. Just fun, and he's involved with someone else, and I'm entirely married, so it's not as if we're *involved* or anything, it's a friendship with lots of caring, lots of truth, lots of thought and lots of trust on both sides. In just the few short months I've known him, I really do feel like I can say anything to him and he won't twist it, won't take it wrong, and will always come back with something meaningful, thoughtful, caring. I try to give the same back, so that helps.

One of the things that I really was down on myself on was the whole feeling that I couldn't do something like that with Mark, that something was wrong with me, that for some reason I just wasn't connecting, or something. That I wasn't trying hard enough or wasn't doing everything I could to translate for him, and try and get his meaning instead of twisting anything. But Raven made it pretty obvious that he though I was doing fine with him, and that kinda lead us to the fact that I was doing just fine with John and Regis and Mike and... well... lots of other people. Maybe it wasn't me.

I have an unfortunate tendency to think that it's all my fault, when sometimes it's something that someone else has control over. So I sometimes damage myself with what I 'ought' to have done. Not good. So Raven shook me up and just said that I was wrong. That helped. That it's not good to continue with something that just drains me.

Went to sleep around 11pm. Slept deep and still and woke with a dream of Raven and I horsing around my Dream machine, which was about the size of an apartment building, and we were doing fixing, maintenance and banging out some dents. We were also laughing like loons, joking, and filling the Machine with Good Stuff and pulling out the dross that had happened when I actually believed, for a while that there was anything of my dreams that I shouldn't accept as what they *were*.

© 1998 by Liralen Li.

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