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bepresent10 · 8 years ago

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The Spanish lover

No more heartbreak

I am the only constant person in my life. This realization struck me with pain at first – that is my painbody wanted to grip it, hold tight onto it and ride on it to satisfy its addiction to pain. It would have been easy to slip back into the old habit of self-pity, but I acknowledged with amazement that I am in a place where it is even easier to associate a new thought, feeling and attitude with the above statement than to be depressed and complain about it. Now, by reminding myself of it, I feel power, stability and even excitement.

People, situations, experiences are constantly moving in and out of my perspective, forming and reforming my ever-changing horizon. Only one factor remains unchanged: me as a witnessing presence. I am present as an unbiased witness with infinite, unconditional curiosity and love, devoted to life with all of its possible aspects. It is my task to filter, interpret and invite happenings to my life in a way they serve me. Therefore whatever events I observe unfolding through the will of others do not have to influence the way I feel. I am the creator of my reality, since I am in charge of my feelings and thoughts.

Charlie knows that. Maybe not conceptually, but as he would put it, he knows it with his stomach. He trusts me, that is why he left me. And I love him for that too.

He appeared in my life almost two months after Tristan left work. As we were introduced he said “I am Carlos�� we shook hands and I had to repeat it out loud for myself, otherwise names slip my mind fairly easily. “Carlos” - I said therefore. He retorted instantly: “Carlos as well?” The speed and serenity of his reaction spiced with his adorably harsh Spaccent poignantly surfacing in these three words made me laugh. I knew I liked him. The meeting was arranged to make video recordings of me playing and singing Regina Spektor songs. A friend of his (my former colleague) was handling the sounds while he was standing and walking around with the camera filming me. Being a professional photographer he gave me the deep and intense look of photographic focus. He transformed me to an object of art. I was a muse, an inspiration, and I loved it. His look made me feel like he already knew me. It was natural for me to return his glance. I took pleasure in resting my gaze upon his nicely shaped symmetrical face especially enjoying the firm line of his nose and the delicate rounding of his nostrils. I relaxed in his gaze upon me. When I was not singing we joked with each other spontaneously, sharing a particular sense of humour and having a similar way of self-expression. He came unusually close to me physically too, hugging me frequently in a rather intimate manner stroking over my shoulders, taking my hands – and eventually kissing me on the neck by saying Good Bye.

If it were anybody else I would have rapidly pulled away pinning down my boundaries. I would have refused to look into his eyes for minutes to show that I am not willing to bond on this level on the first brief encounter. I heard the question in my mind: “Why don’t you pull away? Why do you let him touch you like that by meeting you for the first time? You don’t even know him!” “I don’t know. I like him. And I trust that he likes me too. So I am not lying with my body letting him close.”

I wanted to meet him again. For his suggestion we agreed on a future voice lesson as an offset for filming me. He was interested in learning classical voice techniques.

In the following week I had to leave for Hungary for 10 days. After I returned to Scotland I fell sick and could not sing for weeks. Since he messaged me in the meantime for an appointment I got in touch with him at the end of September. We met on the same day. On the day I signed up for the 5th online dating site and initially invited another guy over for cake and tea who came back to me with a polite rejection in a FB message first after Carlos left. I had incidentally baked a potcake the day before after unexpectedly discovering a tube-pan in my suitcase a German friend of mine left me when she moved from Edinburgh.

Carlos arrived at 5 o’ clock. I prepared only for a lesson purposefully leaving my looks casual wearing my leisure suit – I did not even wash my hair. I wanted to avoid giving the impression that I cared for him in that sense and that the possibility crossed my mind that the lesson could potentially turn into a date. For 7PM I had already scheduled another meeting with my girlfriend Dewi, offering her the cake as well. Yet Dewi called me at half past six that she could not manage it that night anymore being so exhausted after her business trip. In retrospect I guess I never felt more thankful to anybody for calling off a meeting.

Carlos stayed. We ate cake and drank tea. He brought his own guitar and sang his own songs. From a medical point of view he was systematically destroying his vocal chords – but I loved it. I sang him Vocalise from Rachmaninoff (I never sang this piece for an audience before and wanted to give it a try). He listened to me with his eyes closed. He listened to ME indeed. We talked about music, books, belief-systems, spirituality and he insisted on giving me a third eye massage. The third eye is the 6th chakra said to be connected with spiritual sight and intuition, located on the forehead between the eyebrows. I thought “well we meet for the second time and you want to hold my head in your hands – my unwashed head. I don’t look good I probably don’t even smell nice, but what the heck. It is just a massage on the head, isn’t it?” So I went for it anyway because I was curious what comes out of it. And well what came out of it eventually was that he stimulated quite powerfully all of my lower chakras – I was not certain whether I experienced the opening of my third eye, but thanks to him I see now things in a way I have never seen them before. This supposedly less than 1% solid matter of my body evaporated and transcended into something lighter than air by his touch. The bare idea of me was afloat, and I was watching and sensing it from another dimension. He was stroking over my face and kissed me on the lips.

Still being in the living room we got involved only as seriously and heavily as I still found it appropriate in a communal area with a baywindow with no blinds facing the opposite block on the other side of the street. At around 11PM we called it a night after I refused to go with him to the party he suggested me to accompany him to. I was tired and hungry and wanted to take a shower – and bask alone in the sweet memory and promise of the evening. In spite of my tiredness I felt fully charged energetically. At the same time I was confused. What was it all about? Does he want to see me again? Did it mean anything to him or did he just play out a habit of relating to most women almost automatically? Can I trust him?

Two days later I contributed on a venue for contemporary Scottish literature in the bookstore of my friend Jenny. I performed pieces of my classical repertoire in two 15 minute blocks. Carlos was supposed to come for the first one – only he did not. I had the strong feeling in advance that he wouldn’t, yet I still felt so disappointed and sad and angry that during the recital while the authors were reading passages of their own works I was struggling with my tears and all I heard was “It was all just for your boobs. You are a piece of meat. You allowed him to regard you as such; therefore you deserve to be treated as such”. This malicious speculation reflected my inner state of insecurity and lack of confidence infused with the beliefs bequeathed and deeply engraved into the collective consciousness of my Catholic family through generations - and had nothing to do with the motivation or feelings of Charlie (and even if it had by chance, this is not the point!). I knew I do not have to believe this voice. Still, this voice drowned out everything else (except for my awareness of it) and I was in pain. When I was singing I was fully focused in my activity and enjoyed it as much as I used to enjoy it other times – but as soon as I sat back to my place the stream of bitter, self-loathing thoughts came to the foreground again. I was not angry with Charlie. I was angry with myself. Or initially I was angry with Charlie and judged myself so harshly for it that I turned my anger towards myself instead because I still found it more ethical to be angry with myself than to be angry with someone else.

He apologized in a FB message for not attending. By the casual manner of his writing (considering his style and the delay of his response) I knew that I am not as important to him as I wished to be, also acknowledging the fact that his feelings and his behaviour are out of my control. I felt frustrated and tried to justify my frustration by calling him a jerk who basically reduced me to a body and was only after finding an object for his lust. The other part of me, the silent watcher and listener knew at the same time that the tactic of blaming won’t work for long. This part of me also knew that no matter what: ultimately I still love him. Regardless of what he does or misses to do to me. After all: love is the ultimate reality. In the next two weeks we have been messaging sporadically. By manipulating my own natural reaction time (I ignored his messages for days which never happens when communicating with friends) I was trying to mask my attachment to his reactions. I was riding this roller-coaster of hopeful excitement and fear, of joy and despair. When he neglected me for days I started to curse him knowing that it is pointless and that I just distract myself from my own issues pretending that my inner state of being is dependent on his actions. Pretending that he is responsible for how I feel about myself. It was strange to experience the split between my ego and super ego on this grade of tangibility. I watched the devil acting up in me and I knew it will be over. I knew it will be over the latest when I meet him again in person. I knew I could not look into his eyes and realize anything but love.

He suggested the next meeting and I instantly agreed. Even as I had asked him, he preferred to avoid to say whether he planned to come for a singing lesson or should I expect something else? He came to my place and we started singing. I felt extremely confused since after the last occasion I decided to charge him for the following lesson – and wanted the payment in money and not in sex. But for the start I just took on whatever he wanted, and he wanted to sing. I could barely resist the urge to touch and meld with him and took real effort to remain as professional as I could under the circumstances given. We went through some exercises while I was forcing myself to concentrate solely on how he was singing to help him with my instructions. Then I offered him tea and ice-cream for refreshment and showed him my room to take a small break. There I found myself in his arms again and willingly gave up on my power to push him away. I could barely say that I did not think classical vocalist classes were supposed to run this way and I would prefer not to give him any further lessons if this was the way we end up each time… … He asked me not to think, just be. What he did next was so wonderful that only by conjuring it up (even after more than a week has passed) my facial muscles almost cramp from my inerasable bright smile. I pulled him to the floor and we got very close to make love. He led my hand to his penis and after a while gently pushed it away. We were still cuddling when he said: “I am afraid we have to stop here, Bella, I am actually seeing someone else.” Perfect timing I thought. I released him from my embrace and turned my head away sinking my face into the broadloom carpet. He continued: “I met her shortly after I met you for the first time. We started seeing each other kind of parallel to you. With her it called for me. You caught me in a transitional period after my ex and I broke up…” - My attention partly drifted away from his story. I still grasped the meaning of his words and could have repeated them literally but the greater part of my inner focus was reaching for the aching corner. For this familiar, dim and cosy place in me, where I can just wrap my hurt around myself and indulge in it. Only, this time I did not find it. Everything was bright and wide open and I could not hide. I could not hide from the fact that in spite of the input of Charlie’s narrative sifting through my intellect, I still felt almost ecstatically happy. I kept my face pressed to the floor, away from him, but he – stroking over my head - asked me to look at him: “Talk to me, please! What do you think?” I had no choice but to reveal my face still glowing with the joy of his presence. I looked into his face, purely, with no thought. This was all wording in me: “You are beautiful and I love everything about you.” I did not say anything out loud – I was speechless. He noted “I have just told you what a bastard I am and all about the jerkish things I did in the past to women and you still look at me with love.” I could not help it, this was all I felt. At the same time, as if someone had pulled out an old reel, I noticed a series of negatives flashing in a distant light, containing samples of pre-programmed judgements, reactions and labels, all suggesting possible ways of relating to Charlie’s confession – but I did not choose to blow up any of them. I was not interested in narrowing down my newly discovered expanded reality to a single image, forming an opinion. The reality was love beyond all opinions, comments, judgements and feelings. Unconditional, all-inclusive love and appreciation, not just for his person, but universally, for being – for the being of all beings.

Later, after we parted outside and I was on my bike to Tesco’s I sensed the shadow of grief passing over me when the thought emerged “I won’t hold him in my arms ever again – this was a fleeting experience and I most likely won’t contrive replicas of it any soon”. Then the knowing part reminded the thinking part that eternity is experienced in each fully lived moment (so I visited eternity with Charlie). It reminded me that time spans only have relative value regarded from the limited human perspective. That for Source - which is the essence, origin and destiny of all beings - thousand years equal a moment, and a moment equals thousand years. That life is always in the now. That life is timeless, and experiences and circumstances are interchangeable. That it is a never ending game and that the less attachment I have to specific co-f-actors, the more fun I have with creating my own reality allowing my horizon to grow broader and broader offering more and more variety of components to select from and play with.

It seems like Carlos receded from my physical experience for now. He left me with the present of a major shift. Telling me about how he used to go from girl to girl like the bee flies from flower to flower, I - instead of formulating a moral judgement (blowing up one of the negatives) - was genuinely fascinated by his ability to feel intense appreciation for so many, expressing it through erotic interaction. He truly is a lover of women. His countless expedition-tours conquering women were not - in the first place - propelled by his bodily urges: he was driven by a higher desire in the hierarchy of aesthetics; by the desire to explore female beauty in its utmost complexity and variety. Using the body as a tool and transcending it at the same time, reaching beyond the territory graspable with senses and conceivable with words.

I always thought of Tristan as of a natural lover of women too; he just chooses not to live it – on the surface. I reckon this might be one of the reasons I had to encounter both of them. I wanted to enjoy and admire men as widely and generally – as all encompassing: similar to them, voluptuaries of the opposite sex. I made a huge step forward in this respect. I started enjoying male company, what more, the mere presence of men as I never have before. Along with the practice of mindfulness and body awareness my sensitivity gradually built up and refined to perceive the vibrational exchange with an unprecedented accuracy that occurs when interacting with others. I can clearly sense the difference in my own energetic charge according to whom I let into my personal space – and whether it is a male or a female. I am aware of the immediate shift in my energetic balance when talking to men, and I find it very pleasant.

As for myself I know that it is not necessary to make a sexual connection to men in order to engage in energetic co-production with them or to cherish their unique beauty. I still cannot part my soul from my body and if I begin to share my body I have to share all that I am as a logical consequence. I must share quotes and songs with the person I make love to – I must introduce him to my thoughts, and discuss my taste in music, literature and art. And all of that in big volume (at least initially) and frequently. And vice versa: the other person has to make an intellectual and emotional impact on me so that I feel excitement and inspiration by whatever he says or introduces me to. This is why polyamory, casual sex with beneficial friends and one night stands are still not an option for me. Sometimes I wish they were – since I have to deal with my hormones like anybody else – but they are not.

Do you want romance?

When we were lying on the floor, Charlie asked: “It depends on what you want. Do you want romance?” I never asked myself the same before as I have never regarded it as a question of subjective preference or choice. I thought all humans were inherently determined to long for romance since this longing is as much of an integrant part of the human nature as mortality is. I was also convinced that those who refuse to have this experience when the opportunity presents itself and claim not to have the desire for it are fooling themselves, subconsciously trying to avoid disappointment and putting up emotional barriers as part of the automatic self-defence mechanism. I do not know what Charlie understood under “romance”, but at the moment he asked me I grasped the essence of the term in the criteria of exclusiveness. I associate romance with the belief that “I found the ONE who amongst all men is exclusively special for me – and I, amongst all women, am exclusively special for him. We are predestined for each other as soulmates.”

I always thought of Tristan as of a soulmate of mine. I never experienced being so much in accord with anybody else. This is why the apparent untimeliness of entering each other’s lives (with him being in a long-term relationship) affected me with excruciating pain. Of course there is no “untimeliness” in a perfect universe that is functioning like clockwork. I “accidentally” bumped into an Abraham-video that explains the “soulmate-phenomenon”. Abraham says that one of the most frustrating experiences is when you meet a soulmate of yours but you (one of you or both of you) are not in vibrational alignment with what your soul was asking for. In other words when someone enters your experience for whom you were asking for, and you – because of your hindering beliefs and lack of understanding or confidence - are not ready to receive him or her yet. Abraham encourages us to match up our vibration with our desires, meaning, that if we long for a meaningful relationship filled with joy, humour, sensuality and inspiration on all levels then first we have to find these qualities in ourselves, amplify them and feel into them until they come to fruition in the manifested world bringing the lover we wanted – and enjoy the process. He/she also says that there is not just one soulmate for each of us, but there are many more around for everybody and with vibrational fine-tuning we will draw them into our experience.

There is no need for the desperate search for a needle in a haystack. Charlie was an example, a confirmation for that. Triggered by the conversation with him now I refuse to believe the myth of exclusiveness (I have never seen it as a myth or a dilemma up until Charlie challenged it). I do not want to have a romance in the sense of possessive love and emotional attachment tempting to define myself through the special one on my side. “For me being with someone is about practicalities” stated Charlie plainly. Again, how I interpreted it for myself was: “there are many wonderful women – ultimately I have to choose and settle for the one most compatible with my lifestyle and try to be faithful to her”. It was the un-, or even anti-romantic statement by definition, and I took comfort in it. In fact it produced in me a change of paradigm. He mentioned, this other girl fits into his world more than I do – she knows his friends and can handle (at least to some extent) his passion for other women. “She is really good for me.” I believed him and was glad for him. I regarded it as a stronger and more significant pronouncement than “I love her”.

“Men who pursue a multitude of women fit neatly into two categories. Some seek their own subjective and unchanging dream of a woman in all women. Others are prompted by a desire to possess the endless variety of the objective female world.

The obsession of the former is lyrical: what they seek in women is themselves, their ideal, and since an ideal is by definition something that can never be found, they are disappointed again and again. The disappointment that propels them from woman to woman gives their inconstancy a kind of romantic excuse, so that many sentimental women are touched by their unbridled philandering.

The obsession of the latter is epic, and women see nothing the least bit touching in it: the man projects no subjective ideal on women, and since everything interests him, nothing can disappoint him. This inability to be disappointed has something scandalous about it. The obsession of the epic womanizer strikes people as lacking in redemption (redemption by disappointment).” /Milan Kundera: The unbearable lightness of being/

Kundera must be right. I most likely was not touched by Charlie in the subjective-romantic sense, but he certainly inspired me, winning my objective admiration for being the powerful, authentic man he is; consequently following his stomach (he emphasised “not my heart – my stomach” - I suppose what he meant was gutfeeling) and going for the things he wants, regardless of what anybody else might think. I took the boost he offered for my life with delight and hope to use it for the best.

Tristan is in the latent phase of being a lyrical womanizer, while Charlie is trying to leave his active phase behind as an epic womanizer.

Meeting them in succession I evolved from a lyrical love-seeker to an epic love-allower.

This is where Charlie left me – just on the right spot for a fresh start.

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bepresent10 · 8 years ago

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What if I

I have to make a confession: I hate opera

I started watching Rosenkavalier on YouTube the other day and suddenly felt a strong aversion against the genre in general. Can I really picture myself parading with powdered face in fancy masquerades acting as a character in a story I consider to be obsolete and of infinitesimal relevance for today’s society? The original drama can be interesting as a piece of literature but the music putting the emphasis on the impressiveness of vocal abilities distracts the audience from tuning into the characters and hinders them by comprehending their motifs. It is all about bragging with professional brilliance. We mastered our bodies and vocal chords and want your unconditional and eternal admiration in exchange for that, hurray!

They open their mouth and two bars later I can’t believe anything they are saying anymore.

There must be people who are genuinely moved by opera as an art form and who can personally relate to the action on stage – but in most cases I cannot. Occasionally I find examples – even just certain passages of a given opera – where the music strengthens the drama and clarifies the intentions of the characters helping the listener to interpret and take in the work as an organic unit (engaging the intellect and triggering questions versus solely indulging the ears). Yet in traditional opera (composed before World War 1) the sophistication of the vocal performance and the aesthetic perfectionism reflecting in the music sophisticate the drama as well and instead of highlighting the message of the words they actually obscure and mostly flatten it. If I want to see a musical drama where plot, character drama, poetry and music are balanced and represented as equally significant aspects of a performance then I go to musical theatre, cabaret or better just listen to Regina Spektor. Whatever is being sung with articulated words should offer something beyond acoustic pleasure.

Ok, well I guess it is not necessary to justify and make logically plausible the realization that after investing more than 10 years into classical vocal studies I still do not feel drawn to opera and I am not thrilled by the vision of me acting in any opera role either.

I just don’t want to be put in a jar, stuck with the label “opera singer”. You are an opera singer now and that’s all there is to it. I guess this is why I am sitting in a call centre explaining to customers about topics I do not have the slightest interest in, because everybody acknowledges, I am not a call centre agent – nobody is a call centre agent there, if you look any closer. In a call centre nobody expects of you that your whole world should revolve around customer service – in an opera house they do. They do expect of you that you are waking up and going to sleep practising the roles in your mind, vocalizing the whole day and studying opera characters, rehearsing scenes even while dreaming at night. If you are a voice teacher in an institute you have to follow the guidelines of the direction. You have to spend a considerable amount of time learning basic accompaniments (I mean you have to if you are on my level of playing piano from music sheets ;)) for pieces you are not even interested in and anyway don’t find suitable for your students, but they are to be taught as part of the obligatory curriculum… and what if I just want to wander around. What if I want to sing and maybe even compose in other styles as well. What if I want to create something original by blending these styles merging even different languages. What if I want to direct stage work in my own company, produce my own productions writing scripts and verses. What if I want to be part of an innovative artist team involving contemporary poets, composers, actors, dancers, singers and visual artists, acting as a catalyst in cultural exchange and co-production. What if I want to learn French and maybe Hebrew. What if I want to go to New Zealand and live from climbing trees picking cherries. What if I want to go to India to participate in a long spiritual expedition. What if I want to learn filmmaking and sound technique. What if I want to deepen my yoga and meditation practice. What if I want to dance. What if I want to shout Regina Spektor songs from my bike even if nobody is listening, even if everybody is listening. What if I want to walk around stroking over tree trunks, fondling leaves and petals. People, I just don’t fit in!

I have been born and raised in Hungary as child of a Hungarian family, but I am not a Hungarian. I appear in female form but I am not a woman. I sing but I am not a singer. I teach but I am not a teacher.

And I love you all, for you are not who and what you think you are either.

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bepresent10 · 8 years ago

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Detaching from stories – refresh and reset

I was sitting on the beach at the Adriatic Sea in Croatia and these lines were flowing out of my pen to my notebook:

Giving green light to others

acknowledging and respecting their freedom and individuality

seeing their ultimate perfection

not criticising their choices whatever they might be

giving them space

the best way of relating to other people is to trust their ultimate perfection recognizing them as equally powerful co-creators

letting them create and live their own paths

and bless their paths

NOT TO WORRY ABOUT THEM

because that means

you doubt their ability to go through individual evolution on their own

and then basically you doubt ONENESS TOO

One more important thing:

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BELIEVE ANYTING,

EXCEPT OF WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE IN

Partly it was inspired by observing my family members during my vacation in Hungary and in Croatia, but also it correlates to the recent experience of being in love with someone who did not respond to it.

There is an old tape of worn-out questions, perceptions, interpretations and images playing subtly, with steady repetition in my mind. I focus on it ever seldom with less and less emotional attachment. I hear it without listening to it. I know I cannot figure it out, I know I cannot get to the bottom of it, and the attempt alone is a waste of energy.

I think of him and bless him for in the interaction with me he demonstrated what kind of an emotional and intellectual connection and synergy I like to have in a relationship. He made me realize what I was longing for all the time without being conscious about it (pointing out what was missing with my ex boyfriend). As Abraham would phrase it, he helped me clarify my preferences (and made me believe the yet unbelievable). It might have been an illusion – but even so it was a very enlightening one because from now on I know what I am looking for.

It was nice loving him having had the opportunity to express this love in several different ways in direct communication with him.

I know how to move on gently. He is history now – and I have to remind myself that if I love him now I only love a memory, a concept about him rather than the real person.

It is time for me to love someone real too. Someone who chooses to remain in my physical experience and someone whom I can love physically too. Someone who returns my love on every level.

In the meantime I will joyously polish my nails, watch Twin Peaks or anything else that pleases me. Sing, breathe, meditate, do yoga and do whatever leads me to the state of appreciation, acceptance and peace and therefore makes me feel completely identical with mySelf – and will watch curiously with relaxed anticipatience how things unfold.

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bepresent10 · 8 years ago

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The pull of drama - processing love

Intermezzo

For some reason I needed it so much. This passionate closing sequence storming down on the keys of the piano under my burning fingertips… This is the way I produce an antidote for overwhelming feelings by expressing them in a concentrated, almost exaggerated form using the oppositional mechanism to homeopathy though aiming for the same result.

I project my feelings magnifying them till the edge of the bizarre so I can gain distance from them. From this comfortable distance I just observe them with a scientific curiosity and approach them artistically. I approach them before they absorb me. Then I am telling to myself highly amused: “It is alright, dear. Nothing serious is going on here. You just enjoy the play you direct – and if you do not enjoy it anymore: simply change the script.”

Well this is time to change it indeed. I have been chewing on this particular drama far too long and squeezed all the juice out of it – now I have to throw away the drained skin to nurture the soil of new experiences.

I am up to re-define my temporary identity who I wish to be in this particular body. He set me free by captivating me. He set me free to be a strong independent woman aware of her values and qualities. Aware of what she wants and why she wants it – and aware of what she does not want and why she does not want it.

He made me realize that what I like to have as an experience is the feeling itself rather than a specific person – just as it is emphasized in Abraham’s teachings too.

It is curios he told me he will miss me. And that he does not know how to replace me. Why is there a need to replace me in the first place? And anyway in which quality?

I won’t miss him. I love him, but there is no lack in my life I wished him to fill in. Him walking out of my life is rather a relief since we are not colleagues. We had to pretend so for a long time, but we are neither colleagues nor friends. Not being present in each other’s lives anymore restricted to socialize on a level matching our official nexus at least we do not have to compromise our potential as lovers (not in terms of a secret affaire, but in terms of a relationship). He did not fully realize this potential and acted accordingly – and I realized this potential and acted accordingly too.

I appreciate he does not want to cause pain to his girlfriend. Neither do I. I was just asking myself frequently whether he chooses to hurt – to limit himself instead. I wondered whether his current one is the kind of relationship he wants to build his life upon. Clearly he is heading towards it at the moment – but since he made contradictory statements the question remained for me whether this is what he consciously, actively wants or he just lets himself slip into it by circumstances.

There is a difference between “I do not want to leave her” and “I want to be with her”. There is a difference between a negatively or passively practiced fidelity and a positively or actively practiced fidelity. I always wondered whether he is being actively faithful to her. Whether he is truly devoted to the relationship with her on the soul-level (not just on the moral level), meaning that he does not just love her, but also loves the both of them together: that he loves the man too, passionately, he is becoming by her side. That they are a great team and he could not imagine and could not even wish for a greater one.

On the other hand if he is being negatively or passively faithful, then he sticks to her mostly, because he does not want to exit the relationship damaging his self-image and risking disappointing others. Often I had the strong impression that a part of him wants to break free from it, not for me or for any other woman, but merely for the chance to re-discover and re-create himself as an individual outside of the context of a relationship (after all he is still so “god damn young” :D). I think there are times when he doubts, whether being engaged in this kind of a commitment – with his ambitions and visions concerning other fields of life - is the most authentic expression of who he is. Being passively faithful means too, that he avoids committing adultery with his body inspite of his longing to explore and experience other women. He might be bored by his girlfriend from time to time, so he finds clever ways to summon the impulses and stimuli he is lacking at home whether from personal interactions with other women or by studying their twitter and Instagram profiles. He is having affairs on every level, but on the physical. (Subjectively I had the feeling as if we were making love regularly in a non-sexual manner, since we met and merged by conversations and at the silent core of a piece of music with an intensity and intimacy friends usually don’t. )

Still, he is innocent, and this seems to be working for him. It seems to be working for the both of them.

After all of course, nobody experiences anything she or he does not want to. As frequently said in the “Conversations with God” trilogy, every act, every decision we make is a demonstration of our highest thought about ourselves. He made it for his duty to take care of her, to protect her and help her arranging practicalities for a comfortable and settled provincial life, even though or all the more, if it requires him to heroically renounce of other possible factors he would wish to include into his lifestyle otherwise (like having cats, connecting through music and who knows what else). This is his highest ideal: being a reliable partner, stubbornly sticking to his past decisions repeating them over and over again, working on making another person happy (I think this very belief, that he has the power and the responsibility of affecting another person’s happiness is what makes him happy). The more effort and sacrifice it takes the better he feels about himself (by causing him to resist me I provided him with a delicious bonus improving his ethical credit score). He makes his decisions according to his self-constructed moral idol; to live up to his highest vision of himself that is “the good guy”.

Therefore what I see in him as a potential will not reflect in the physical reality unless he changes his image of himself, because he cannot act beyond this image. Nobody can.

He is a great character. I see the revolutionary and the conformist, the poet and the bureaucrat, the free-spirited eternal student and the resposible breadwinner or future father, the casanova and the henpecked husband dwelling and duelling in his heart. He seems to enjoy this split.

I love him as an abstract character – of course I loved him as a real person being present in my physical experience too. He has chosen not to be a part of it anymore. I bless his path either way.

I love him on the paper – as much as I would have loved him in the flesh.

Bless you, Rachmaninoff, for this resume ;) :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HOKQYZrxvTA

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bepresent10 · 8 years ago

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Everything began with Eckhart

As mentioned at the end of the previous post Eckhart led me back to my original and primary calling which is the solid nurturing ground for each secondary, temporary or partial goal I can ever set for myself. My calling (as the calling of everybody and everything in existence) is just to be freely and fully what I am – and express it towards others.

To be the “I am” and know that this is an eternal experience of continuous expansion.

When I say Eckhart I am not referring to his person but to the universal teaching he is allowing to flow through him, giving a form to it. This is the teaching everybody has access to without his or anybody else’s books simply through the pure experience of the ultimate truth of who or what we are. The circumstance that obscures this innate access in each individual is the way of sleepwalking through life completely lost in judgments and interpretations, conditioned and encouraged by society especially in the West, entirely cut off from the pure sensation of being and living in a body.

Can you stop interpreting and evaluating for even just a moment just to purely live what is right now?

If you can, you will know and experience that sensing - each sensation regardless of the content and of the possible concepts the mind could wrap around it - is a sensation (it is sensational!) indeed in the sense that it is a messenger of the miracle that life is.

So Eckhart got me back on track since this track was familiar to me.

I always knew that there were traces of connection to the divine or let’s just say to an extended dimension of human experience in me – I knew it from early childhood on without a doubt. Given my Christian-Catholic upbringing I was trying to recollect these traces carefully putting them together like the yellow stones for my path by studying the Bible and works of theologues, priests and vicars and mainly through listening to my dad speaking words of amazing insight and wisdom.

The secondary school - Dóra

Connection with God – or with my higher Self or ultimate nature – became from an interest to a need in the years of the secondary school. For years I was captured in a relationship of emotional dependency to a friend of mine who after a while started reacting to my actions and vibrations - unsaid but sensible claiming of attention - with open and sometimes abusive rejection. Since I regarded her judgement of me as the most important measure of my self-worth at those times, I went through phases of intense grief and suffering sinking into the feeling (illusion) of being unloved, ununderstood and only worth to be pushed away, globally. I was blind to all love streaming towards me from all directions: from other people and from all phenomena of the world. Instead I was craving the evidence I regarded at the time as the only relevant, the only valid proof of my “loveableness”: her love and her appreciation for me. In other words – as I realized later but still during the period we were classmates and shared a dormitory along with six other girls: I was in love with her. And it had nothing to do with sexuality related to visual or physically based attraction. It confused me for quite a while though since I experienced intense bodily sensations interacting with her mainly verbally, even in her physical absence while conversing in online chat or through text messages.

With time I just figured how I function and discovered the direct link between the awareness of an overwhelming emotional bond, physical sensations and sensuality.

There was a very special, deep understanding between us – we knew we are exceptional for each other and could not explain why. There was this quality of exclusiveness in our private communion; we created a closed inner circle of two and felt like we are speaking a secret language no one can decode – by using common Hungarian words. We were thriving in the intimacy of our secret society separate from everybody else, diving really deep, discussing topics like God, Church, literature, artistic performances, music, group dynamics in our class - hours long in the middle of the night. We were perfectly tuned into each other instinctively knowing one another’s thoughts and feelings.

What scared her away from me initially I think was the parallel she drew between our relation and the one she experienced before me with her kind of “ex-boyfriend” as she was 13. She saw our relationship as reminiscent of her former one in respect to the high grade of mutual admiration and attachment. I think none of us could really make sense at the time of this overpowering emotional intensity constantly vibrating between us. Especially not in the context of us being of the same sex and both knowing ourselves as hetero-sexuals.

It made me doubt and re-evaluate my overall sexual identity and through years I came to the conclusion that conventional sexual labels do not define my identity since I am predominantly emotional. My sexuality and sensuality are subordinated to my emotionality. The urge to express the deep bond I feel by touching and being physically close to somebody is directly proportional to the level of intimacy in the communion with this person.

Nevertheless after Dóra only men came who triggered these feelings for long term in me. Besides there is an additional quality to the energetic exchange between representatives of the two sexual polarities. I guess, when it comes to physical interaction I still prefer men, although it is hard to tell without any experience of the sort with women – so far I just never felt the inclination to gather such, because I did not get involved in intimate communion of the kind with women in the post-Dóra period.

All in all between the age of 15 and 19 I had lots of things to sort out. I felt guilty and hurt most of the time. Guilty of my physical sensations I – considering social standards – adjudicated as inappropriate. Guilty of my surfacing clinginess and neediness fuelled by the abandonment by the one I loved the most.

I started to question my sexuality as the first boyfriend came into my life (I was 16 and half) and I recognized that he evoked the same sensations in me Dóra did (so I concluded in retrospect that I was in love with her too). The difference was that in the relationship with him I got conscious of the female aspect of my personality. I enjoyed it immensely as more light fell on my neglected female qualities (both physical and emotional) in our contrast.

After he left me the grief after him replaced the grief after Dóra. As a consequence Dóra and I made peace and our friendship began to recover. I felt I have to share with her my perception of having been in love with her for a certain period. We discussed it one night in the bathroom of the student home and it was one of the most purifying and relieving conversations I have ever had. She listened sincerely with full attention and answered honestly. The circumstance helped that we were approximately on level in self-awareness. After years of doubt and self-condemnation the first time I felt completely OK. Completely embraced, understood and accepted. I was forgiven since I realized that the only one judging me was neither Dóra, nor God nor anybody else, but only I myself. Dóra is one of those very special friends of mine who can just hold with a caring detachement whatever I am and how ever I feel, without being worried about me and trying to fix me. Because she sees pass my temporary shortcomings, she sees my completeness, my ultimate perfection. In other words she relies on her spiritual sight.

In our personal history though it came to a heavy conflict again towards the end of the 4th year. I cannot recall poignant details I just remember that she started acting in a way I was convinced was not authentic of her and did not reflect her true personality. She engaged in superficial friendships with people I knew she did not have much in common with and went out drinking frequently. Just because I did not (and still do not) have any natural affinity to alcohol especially not for the purpose of socializing I was disappointed by her behaviour and could not accept and respect that her individual path contains elements leading to other places than mine. I felt personally betrayed by her choices. We left high school being estranged from each other and did not get in touch for years.

Throughout secondary school mostly related to Dóra but also to my professional development I was confronted with all sorts of inner conflicts and dilemmas. My sense of self-worth was shaken I thought by external circumstances, by the lack of personal or professional approval of others. I loved the community of the class and of the whole school but I still had the feeling that I do not fit in. I was incapable of showing interest for anything or anybody I did not feel genuine interest for – I was incapable of putting on a mask trying to blend just to be accepted in a wider range. I was hoping to get a better understanding of human existence by reading philosophical novels, the Bible, psychological books, and works of a famous Hungarian vicar, who was a pastoral-psychologist himself. Through these reads I found a connection to the divine indeed and was led back to the state of peace and clarity. I kept a prayer diary where I was addressing God every day with my questions and expressed my gratitude for everything that happened to me, regardless what it was.

Even in the midst of swirling confusion I always knew one thing: happiness does not depend on any external factor. Happiness is the only and ultimate reality which only gets obscured by layers of fear-based thoughts. We have to recognize joy, happiness, unlimited freedom, expansion and love as our essential being and then we have a choice how to project it outwards. Then our actions will result effortlessly from being. We have to realize that we are the source of everything we want to see, feel and experience in the manifested world - and so everything happening to us is a mere reflection of our inner focus.

I always knew it and every true teaching I encountered just echoed and amplified this original knowing. I just did not know how to put it in practice, how to live and create from this place of self-realization.

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