Semi Secret Santa

As that holiday approached, I braced again for the blues. I continued my personal work towards betterment, but removed any personal pressure to speed up that process. I wasn’t in a rush.
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For no apparent reason, I acted on a thought that had been entering my mind for maybe the past couple of weeks. I decided to broach the subject cautiously.  The hope, a cleaner conscious.
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I reached out to a niece, and told her the motorcycle story. The moral being that I wanted to send her 5000 pesos so she could get it to her uncle Joe. Her uncle was a close friend of mine once.
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She thought it was gracious of me, which helped me purge some guilt. I disguised the MXN in an envelope and mailed it. Instantly I felt a little lighter inside. I was just doing unto another…

A Not So Lucid Winter’s Dream

 

She finally had a dream worth remembering

He met her at his 50 yard line

They let go of the past

They embodied the present

They embraced for the future too

**

Truth poured from every angle

Like alchemy, the darkness softened

Naturally there was enlightenment

She finally had a dream worth cherishing

He met her half the way 

Sometimes Less is Less

She opened up about her talent for wearing two hats, and he knew exactly what she meant. He let go a medium stare her way, spawning a visual. A visual of what she might look and be like wearing her other hat.

He opened up, albeit barely, about his history of sabotaging relationships with the truth. She wanted to know what he meant, so he shed a wee bit of light on the subject.  Revealing too much wasn’t on the menu.

Five Stars

I pulled up at our 4.5 star hotel in San Diego. The valet kid came up to the driver side door and I instantly said that I was marginally overwhelmed and possibly not ready to give up my van and check in. My belongings in the back were in total disarray. Quinn more than likely needed to relieve herself. I didn’t know where they would be taking my van in case I forgot something. I wasn’t sure if I should have the valet muscle my keyboard to the room just yet. I didn’t have a leash or collar. I was blocking traffic on a pretty busy One Way.

I desperately needed that extra half star which would have provided an area to take a moment to get my act together. We were in a big city, and I was thoroughly proving it.

I couldn’t take the situation another honk, so I drove off and ended up in a student parking lot for I believe San Diego City College. I pulled into a one-hour, visitor parking spot. Snoopy found immediate relief on a grassy island. I cleaned out my van, reorganized my van, fed Curly Q, and drank a liter of water. I attached a surfboard leash to a shoelace collar, slipped that around my Hyena, put on my New Balance running shoes, and decided to give the city a quick once over by foot before bringing my van back inside for round two.

So Dingo and me hit the pavement running. I played The Beach Boys mix thru my original Ipod Nano. As has, and likely will always be the case with any Beach Boys mix I have ever given to someone or received by someone, the first song most certainly always seems to be Good Vibrations.  Feeling positive, we ran our way all throughout the entire Gaslamp District of Sunny San Diego.  California Dreamin’ for sure..

Admittedly, I still thought too much about Janet and about my warm winters in Puerto.  Both subjects, on their own, still opened up the emotional floodgates.  Combined, they will forever represent just the most hurtful series of blows I will ever be forced to accept.  Christ, I had admired and appreciated that woman for some 35 years, and had been equally splitting my time between Santa Cruz and Puerto Escondido for the better part of a decade.  So yeah, I was still grieving my way through these shitty, unforeseen losses.  All the while doing my very best to let it go and move the fuck on.   

Next subject.  Girl Dog kept shaking her head to suggest the gimmicky, makeshift leash and collar system I made for her was bothersome. Fair enough I thought.  This was her first time being tethered, so I cut her some slack. I also knew she would learn to tolerate it because that’s the kind of canine she is.

I spotted Hotel Solamar. I had wanted to stay at this hotel all along because it was only a few blocks away from where this yoga retreat was taking place. It was more expensive so I opted otherwise. Solamar is the 5 star sister hotel to the 4.5 star Hotel Palomar where I had first stopped. Both hotels are dog friendly.

Piglet and I decided to make our presence felt in the lobby of this fine looking five star. I talked to the Manager in Charge and let him know that Big Ears and I had a reservation at Palomar but that we were beginning to feel that maybe Solamar was the better fit. He made a personal call to the other hotel, and yada yada, we were now going to be guests at The Solamar. Excellent!  I asked if we could get the same rate. He said sorry. I knew it never hurt to ask.

We ran back the mile to where my van was parked, and drove immediately back to our new home. I pulled up to the off-street valet, told the boys what needed to go up, and me and Quincy Jones went on into the lobby to check ourselves in.

They gave us Room 409, and she was real fine that 409, that Fourrr Ohhh Nine. Anyway, it had been one crazy week for Girlfriend and Me. It sure was nice to luxury up for a bit.  I took a long, hot shower, and crawled under the covers for a quick siesta. It was 3:45pm.  My first bit of yogurt was set to begin at 6pm.

IMG_1250      IMG_1251

Back to Dunkin’..

I arrived at The Palazzo West right on time. Quinn was with.

I kept the van running. Classical Music was on the radio dial.

He approached my van and asked if I was waiting for someone.

I nodded my head yes and said that I was a close friend of Milo.

He handed me an Iphone5S box and vanished. I took a peek.

I told Quinn that we better get to a Dunkin’ Donuts Drive Thru.

America Runs on Dunkin’

I felt I was being followed.
Who wouldn’t? I had deep fucking pockets.

I used a Dunkin’ Donuts Drive Thru to off some paranoia. 
Small coffee, cream and sugar.

Da Bears

I found my blue mesh fanny pack with 15K inside. Three bundles of 5K. Each bundle had a rubber band around it. All Benjamins.

I zipped it up and put it around my waste. I got in my van and drove down Sahara Avenue to The Palace Station. Choo Choo.

“Yeah I’d like to place a bet. I want to put $5500 on The Bears.”

The lady asked for my players card and I told her that I didn’t have one. She told me that I needed one in order to place this size bet.

So I wandered over to Guest Services, and signed up for a players card. I then walked back to the Sports Book and stood in line again.

“Yeah I’d like to place a bet. I want to put $5500 on The Bears.”

The lady asked for my players card and I slapped it on the table. I handed over the money and she handed me my paper ticket.

I went back Tuesday morning to collect.  I took that newly found 5K and slapped it on Northern Illinois.  It pays to be good.

Cattle Calling

He handed me $300 in cash even though it wasn’t going to cost anywhere near that amount. I was given a white piece of paper. In my handwriting, with one of those old skool Bic Pens where you can make the ink, black, blue, red, or green, i began writing down exactly what was dictated to me. I chose to go with Green.

He wanted me to download and utilize all sorts of different map apps and such to make these errands considerably more efficient, but I just kept telling him to dictate. I was in Las Vegas, Nevada. I sat on a white metal bench under a tree. It was a Monday morning in early November. The sun was brilliant. The wind was outrageous.

He had more important things to do, and I didn’t. This was going to be a test of sorts. He trusted me like a good friend should, but I still needed to be tested regardless. I know all about baby steps. After some brief instruction as to how to operate his Cadillac SUV, I backed out of his driveway, and was on my way. I left my Quinnie behind.

He figured this list of errands was going to take me round about two hours. I had created a map in my head even though I knew it was going to be near impossible to pull it all off as efficiently as I could if I were in my home town. I was in a strange place, doing strange things, and I knew that strange events and sets of circumstances where likely to surface.

My first stop was the UPS store. I walked in and said that I needed Express Envelopes. The lady asked how many I needed. I told her five. She handed me five. I asked her how much? She said they are free. I walked out.

My second stop was the FedEx store. I walked in and said that I needed Express Envelopes. The lady asked how many I needed. I told her ten. She said she only can give me five. I asked her how much. She said they were free. I walked out.

My third stop was to have his car washed in the Korean Strip Mall. I was told that it might be tricky to find. I was told how much it would cost. I was told how much to tip. I found it without too much trouble, and slowly pulled the car up to four Mexicans who in 15 minutes had the entire car spit shined inside and out.

My fourth stop was to gas up The Caddy. 91 octane.

My fifth stop was a Verizon outlet. My boss needed a charger for one of his five phones. Since I was running well ahead of time, I decided to take the time to switch my own personal service back to Verizon. It was one year ago to this very day that I had agreed to switch over to AT&T.  I was hoping the switch back could provide some cosmic rebooting.

My sixth and final stop took place in a liquor store where I bough two, 32oz Smart Waters. One for me and one for my boss. He told me they would come in handy at 5pm Yoga.

By noon I was finished with my errands. I got back to the house, put $204 change on the coffee table. He looked at his watch, smiled, and said, “That was fast, thank you very much. You passed the test. Why don’t you go shower and shave, I will reheat the pizza, and then we can discuss where you are going next. It’s gonna get real.  And bro, no lolly gagging, time is critical..”

Spiritual Manifesto

We walked to the west side studio to stake claim to my prizes. I had never been to this location so I was stoked to finally see it. When we arrived, I gave Quinn the hard glare to suggest she better not move an inch while I was inside. I walked in and told the young lady my name and that I received an email from Sheila that I had won The Humble Warrior giveaway.

With as little fanfare and hype as can possibly be imagined, the young lady reached under the counter and handed me four envelopes in a cute, little, recyclable bag.  I wanted to ask a dozen questions, but I knew not to ask any.  I thanked the girl and went back out the swinging glass doors. Dog and me walked home, prizes in hand.

Envelope One was from The Chaminade Resort & Spa.  I opened it up and there was a short, hand written letter on letter-head from a guy named Trevor.  It basically said call or email ASAP to schedule a convenient time to meet and sign the six month agreement.

Envelope Two was from Divinitree.  Again, a hand written letter, and again on letter-head.  It was another Congratulations and a receipt for a six month unlimited at any of their three locations.

Envelope Three was a small beige envelope w/ what appeared to be the letters AA written on front.  Inside was a business card from a lady named Annette Aberneal with a little note that said, “Hey there Mr. winner. Let’s have a chat Wednesday this week, late morning, say 11:30?  My cell# is on my card.”

Envelope Four contained an anonymous type-written letter that struck a chord or two.  I read it a number of times.  Aside from wishing I had written this beautiful piece, I was super extra curious who had written the piece, and equally as curious how and why it ended up in my goody bag. It read:

My dear proud brother,

I know why you’ve always struggled to truly, fully love every woman you’ve ever wanted to truly, fully love.

I know why every romance you’ve ever indulged in for more than a sweet, fleeting moment soon threatened to overwhelm you.

I know why you still sometimes feel the urge to run from the burdens of relationship toward the promise of freedom in quiet, faraway hills where no woman will ever find you—and why you may be tempted to stay there forever.

I also know why you always return to her…and why you always will.
Because you’re not just merely a man; you’re a goddamn warrior for Love.

Deep in the marrow of your masculine core, you know you didn’t come here to play safe and pass time, simply scoring goals and notches on your bed post, or making money and fragile monuments to your pride.

Hell, no.

You came here to throw down with life, to get bloody and muddy earth all over your soul, as you charge gallantly each day beyond the edges of your hard-earned comfort zone.

You are wise, ancient stardust sculpted into mighty earth come alive. You are a volcano with a hot molten heart at your core, risen to offer your authentic love even in the face of forces that would overwhelm lesser men.

I know what’s been asked of you in this lifetime isn’t easy.

But if you’re ready to claim your birthright as a King amongst Kings, a heart-centered warrior-protector of the planet and all things true and good and beautiful, then it’s time you learn how to love a wild woman in her deliciously untamable fullness.

And you are ready to love all of her, because you’re a goddamn warrior.

I know your fathers and brothers and schoolyard playmates warned you to be wary of her. Through stern faces masking an ignorance they dare not confess, they insisted that the emotions and tears and unpredictable extremes of a feminine heart have no place in the productive, rational world of a “real man.”

Either flee or subdue the unpredictable heart of any woman in your midst, they cautioned, lest her raw power snap all your straight lines, ruin your portfolio and mercilessly break your fragile grip on sanity.

But you don’t buy that bullshit anymore.

Oh, I know you still tremble at the thought of her fiery Kali spirit unleashed like a hurricane in your world. You’ve been gutted and wrecked countless times by awful perversions of love. Too many women in their own fear and immaturity have assigned you the Mission Impossible task of making them happy and then tried to hang you when you failed.

Your psyche has been so badly burnt you can barely imagine anymore the woman who would inspire your devotion.

Fortunately, my good man, all that agony was just warrior boot camp.

Every chaotic, heart-wrenching love affair only served to bleed out the immature and wounded parts of you that would otherwise overthrow your Kingly heart.

You didn’t know it, but life has been preparing you for what’s about to happen: your unconditional surrender to a dazzling love that will sweep through you like a wildfire at dawn.

When she arrives, this love will finally teach you how to breathe through your heart down your spine and into your balls so you can stand full and courageous before the fire-breathing dragons life will never stop sending at you.

Naturally, your woman will train you with your own dragons, the ones still lurking in your shadows. She will know exactly where to find them and which spells turn them against you. She’ll delight in casting those spells, too, but only because she revels in watching you, with hungry, primal eyes, claim your mastery.

For that’s her greatest gift to you: mastery in devotion to love.
She will send those dragons after you whenever she doubts your commitment—not your commitment to her little tyrant ego’s selfish demands. No, she’s done her deep inner work enough to know we didn’t come to serve that scavenger dog.

It’s your commitment to love’s will that she wants to trust deeply. That’s the only way she’ll know you won’t abandon her and run for the hills when her own dragons get loose and try to set your hair on fire.

Oh, it’s gonna be spectacular, my brother!

For this journey of devotion is your awakening to the massive truth of who you already are: love, itself!

So give up once and for all using women’s healing energy to fill the goddess-size hole that ages of patriarchy ripped out of your heart.

Stop trying to shrink women into cute, manageable little pets who ask so little of you, and who you can easily love and accept. That just turns them into not enough for your daring soul, anyway.

You don’t need some passive sex-toy with an off-switch that you keep in the closet. You need a spirited sorceress singing shaman songs beside you as you sharpen your sword for battle, because you’re a goddamn warrior, after all.

You’re ready for the sacred quest to love all of her.

She will serve you well on this journey, for this one likes to run with the wild things. She will shine like bright starlight in your eyes and dance like fire to light your way home to your true self.

But it’s only her courage to offer you the fullness of her feminine soul, from her rage to her radiance, that will truly help you navigate deeper into the mystical realms of devotion. No timid woman will ever do for a true warrior.

Your muse is looking for you, my brother, and she’ll probably show up all smiley and sweet-scented. But make no mistake: she will be the best teacher of unconditional love you have ever known.

I suggest you leave your armor behind for this quest. Protecting yourself will only keep away what you most deeply desire, anyway.
Learning to love all of her will require you leave everything behind, actually, except your own authentic heart.

For she’s aching for nothing less than your true authentic heart to step up and boldly claim the untold treasures buried deep within her own.