True Love or True Hell (Love vs Sex 258)

There is nothing, absolutely nothing in my life and existence that I would not happily sacrifice or forfeit to engage in a relationship of true love; that’s true love and not the watered down, wimpy, lip service version of something much less marketed as something supremely and gracefully greater. And it wouldn’t be enough if it were just me in true love with whomever while they still piddled around in fear or egocentric delusion or some stagnant glitch of the soul. But if I could find a person to love me true as I loved them true, nothing would take precedence or priority over that love, that bond, that union. And I am utterly confounded to see most, if not almost all others, who willingly sacrifice the potential for love to damn near any and every thing; a job, a distance, a hobby, “friends”, money, and the supposed wellbeing of children. I cannot fathom how a relationship of true love would not be the most important behavior or lesson for a child to observe and learn from. What lesson, what dynamic, what principle, could be of greater relevance and impact upon a child? I cannot fathom how so much materialistic and superficial shit has become socially dubbed and prioritized by the herd as being the much greater signifier of personal growth and the key to individual peace and happiness, than obtaining the enlightenment of love and enacting a union of upper transcendence through that love. I don’t know if it’s fear, selfishness, baseness, or just confusingly conforming indoctrination, but I do know that for me the quality of my existence is intimately related to my focus upon my chosen path and priorities. Is there any priority other than genuine and profound love that could impact more positively upon a person’s and/or a family’s quality of life? The answer is an absolute and resounding no. And yet for most people, while they spew sweet sentiments about love and it’s path less travelled, their actions hop, skip, and jump with a delusional zippity-do-da down the more travelled path of actionable anti-love and distractive complacency. They want to be able to claim the Weight and the Light of the world in their words without actually having to commit to lifting anything or opening their eyes long enough to look into that Light until the truth cannot be unseen. This cognitive dissonance, this deadly sin, can never sow love, but it does reap a world that instead operates on apathy at its best and fear at its worst. That world sounds like Hell to me.

Cribb          2018

Enablers of The Fifth Element (Love vs Sex 257)

Rainbow Bright: Sometimes I wonder if I want too much from love. Or more specifically, too much from someone else. I’m in my forties; maybe I’m immature or naive in that way. Maybe it’s time to accept a caring partnership with someone who would recognize my existence on just a basic level – enough chemistry for attraction and enough of the right interests in common to keep things enjoyably enough anesthetized. I’ve heard it said that one of the main reasons we choose to partner is just so that our lives are simply noticed by another. Maybe, that’s all we need.

There is however, this ferocious part of me, albeit idealistic, that yells and screams at the top of my lungs “Hell No!” So much of life has to be lived between those damned lines, why must I compromise here, why??!!? I want to feel consumed by a man who is absolutely expanded by me. I want our own little metaphoric boat or island where it is all ours, us together, strengthening one another, standing in union against the rest of the madness. I’m not just talking about the lusts of a new relationship, the simple transitory thrills of a honeymoon phase. I want the peace of a deep emotional bond and connection, but I want it to glow red hot. Maybe that’s not love, maybe it’s something different.

Do you ever wonder if you just need to settle?

The Introverted Lion: Poetic, Inspiring, broadly perceptive, and just damn unbelievably beautiful.

Rainbow Bright: No. It’s pissed off. It’s self centered. It’s arrogant. Doesn’t anyone feel like this? How is settling for someone any less than someone settling for me? Screw that. Maybe that’s the issue, the angst, the fight that I feel I can’t let go of, that I can’t relinquish. Is it my age that seems to be pushing me more towards tolerance of the minimum, towards the least that will do for me to be able to hold my breath and just get by like everyone else does? But isn’t it supposed to be the other way around as we get older, as we grow and learn and supposedly mature in our own enlightenment? How is it I want more, while everyone else seems to prefer less? Do I just want to go out with a bang instead of a sigh? Sounds arrogant. I don’t think these are feelings of desperation. There are a few “nice enough” guys out there, but meh. What the actual hell??? Damnit, I should not have started talking to you.

Sometimes it is better to consume than question.

The Introverted Lion: I understand. Thought about all of that myself, once or twice. Sounds good, but it is an end to madness for you, me, and everyone else. Most suppress it better than we would, but it’s always fucking there, always. They just package it up in some other “description” or “disorder” or keep themselves sedated with some form of analgesic addiction or delusion. If you settled, we would never have crossed paths. We are in the same tribe. We are of the same energy and connecting with you has intensified my passion and love and hope for being with someone “like you” while experiencing the rest of existence. You have already increased the love in my heart. You have already bestowed upon me the titillating, yearning, and vibrant force of what you say might possibly only occur in dreams of unreal expectation. It is the condensed essence of life and union of what you speak. It is the undying flame of transcendence which continuously sparks our energy to connect, crackle, and create, all of the beauty and grace in the world that we are capable of.

You are an angel and you are an enabler of the Fifth Element.

The Introverted Lion and Rainbow Bright

2018

Past a Certain Point (Love vs Sex 253)

 

Control (a nickname of a person) could not get the image of the biologist out of his head. The look on her face in the empty lot—that blankness—and then, later, in the sessions, the warring of contempt, wildness, casual vulnerability, and vehemence, strength. That had laid him low. That had expanded until it hooked into the whole of him, no part of him not committed. Even though she might never know, could give two shits about him. Even though he would be content should he never meet her again, just so long as he could believe she was still out there, alive and on her own. The yearnings in him now went in all directions and no direction at all. It was an odd kind of affection that needed no subject, that emanated from him like invisible rays meant for everyone and everything. He supposed they were normal feelings once you’d pushed on past a certain point.

Authority

Jeff Vandermeer          2014

Why did you let me? (Love vs Sex 252)

‘Yes, you call it love but I call it torture,’ I said. ‘Why did you let me go into society if you thought it so evil that you ceased to love me because of it?’

‘It was not society, my dear,’ he said.

‘Why did you not use your authority?’ I went on. ‘Why didn’t you lock me up or kill me? I would be better off than I am now, deprived of all that made up my happiness. I should have been very happy, instead of being ashamed.’

I began to sob again and hid my face.

‘Yes,’ he began, as though continuing his thoughts aloud, ‘all of us, and especially you women, must discover for ourselves all the futilities of life in order to come back to life itself: the experience of other people is no good. At that time you were far from having got to the end of that sweet and charming nonsense that I used to enjoy in you, and I left you to have your fill of it, feeling that I had no right to stand in your way, although for me the time for that sort of thing was long past.’

‘If you loved me ,’ I said, ‘why did you stand by and allow me to go through with it?’

‘Because even if you had wanted to accept my experience  you would not have been able to: you had to find out for yourself — and you did.’

‘You thought it all out – thought it all out very carefully,’ I said. ‘You did not love very much.’

We lapsed into silence again.

‘That was harsh, what you said just now, but it is the truth,’ he exclaimed, suddenly rising to his feet and beginning to walk about the veranda. ‘Yes, it’s the truth. I was to blame,’ he added, stopping opposite me. ‘Either I ought not to have allowed myself to love you at all, or I ought to have loved you in a simpler way.’

Happily Ever After

Leo Tolstoy          1859

Cribb Comment: I believe this passage exquisitely portrays a dynamic all too common in any relationship involving one member who is maturely and aptly at peace with themselves and their existence versus another member who is immaturely floundering about in nervous energy anxiety (etc.) and the narcissism of satiating themselves in societal delusion and distraction. The passage is even more profound and relevant for this dynamic when a significant age disparity exists between these two entities. The man of this passage (the more mature entity in this case) profoundly loves this woman and he almost refused to marry her earlier in the book because of his prophetic knowledge of how things were likely to play out. The last sentence in the quote refers to this. His other counter to this tragedy, in this very same sentence, is to say “or I ought to have loved you in a simpler way.” My interpretation is to assume that this simpler way means without such passion or remaining further removed, but it is feasible that he is simply referring to enacting greater patience and personal acceptance of the “cost” involved in remaining unselfish and supremely stable in such a relationship. Any of these behaviors by the man would have required enormous self sacrifice and essentially equate to him moving into a long term yielding (negative) transcendence state (instead of a horizontal or upperward transcendence state) with someone he dearly loved.

At the time of this passage in the book, the female character has already bucked a simple, intimate, and quieter life with her husband, opting instead for the chaotic excitement and thrill which dwells most manicaly in the nervous energy of the fickle societal herd. She has run that course out of her own choice with some component of said choice being related to her utter defiance of her husbands stable posture and contentment which she cannot help but perceive primarily as authoritarian in nature. After profoundly discovering through her own experience and suffering that the societal bosom is never more than a “futility of life,” our female character must look to blame another for the consequences of her own unrelenting egocentric perspective. She must blame him, damn him for being too authoritarian or for not being authoritarian enough, to justify the suffering and consequence that she so proudly chose to march into with such gleeful determination. Our female character now sees all of the wasted and nonrecoverable time that she threw away in the suffering and consequence of her independent choices.

Cribb          2018

 

Make Love, Not Waste (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 225)

We should all be making more love to one another.

Define it as you will.

We waste so much time

that is then

lost forever

on

being pitiful, broken, and invulnerable.

Why do such a thing?

Why squander such opportunity?

Why self destruct in isolation, when such love and beauty and union begs for our participation?

Cribb

2018

Orwell’s Ultimate Dilemma (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 223)

Gordon was not ashamed of his surroundings as he would once have been. there was a faint, amused malice in the way he spoke.

“You think I’m a bloody fool, of course,” he remarked to the ceiling.

“No I don’t. Why should I?”

“Yes, you do. You think I’m a bloody fool to stay in this filthy place instead of getting a proper job. You think I ought to try for that job at New Albion.”

“No, dash it! I never thought that. I see your point absolutely. I told you that before. I think you’re perfectly right in principle.”

“And you think principles are all right so long as one doesn’t go and put them into practice.”

“No. But the question always is, when is one putting them into practice?”

“It’s quite simple. I’ve made war on money. This is where it’s lead me.”

Ravelston rubbed his nose, then shifted uneasily on his chair.

“The mistake you make , don’t you see, is in thinking one can live in a corrupt society without being corrupt oneself. After all, what do you achieve by refusing to make money? You’re trying to behave as though one could stand right outside our economic system. But one can’t. One’s got to change the system, or one changes nothing. One can’t put things right in a hole-and-corner way, if you take my meaning.”

Gordon waved a foot at the buggy ceiling. “Of course this is a hole-and-corner, I admit.”

“I didn’t mean that,” said Ravelston, pained.

“But let’s face facts. You think I ought to be looking about for a good job don’t you?”

“It depends on the job. I think you’re quite right not to sell yourself to that advertising agency. But it does seem rather a pity that you should stay in that wretched job you’re in at present. After all, you have got talents. You ought to be using them somehow.”

“There are my poems,” said Gordon, smiling at his private joke.

Ravelston looked abashed. This remark silenced him. Of course, there were Gordon’s poems. There was London Pleasures, for instance. Ravelston knew, and Gordon knew, and each other knew, that London Pleasures would never be finished. Never again, probably, would Gordon write a line of poetry; never, at least, while he remained in this vile (lower class) place, this blind-alley job (of not selling shit to others along with his soul to the devil) and this defeated mood (depression). He had finished with all of that. But this could not be said, as yet. The pretense was still kept up that Gordon was a struggling poet—the conventional poet-in-garret.

Keep the Aspidistra Flying

George Orwell          1936

 

 

 

 

T’was Christmas Day at the Waffle House; a Time for such Connections, Discoveries, and Eventual Ponderings (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 222)

I went to the Waffle House (WH) for brunch on X-mas Day and ended up sitting at the highbar. Normally, I read while caffeinating and ingesting my scattered, smothered, diced, peppered, and capped, along with my meat choice du jour, but on this day I happened to make a joke with a couple as they sat down next to me, and that easily lead to our conversation over the next hour.

Though the conversation rotated between the three of us, I spoke more often and more directly with the man because he was seated adjacent to me, while his wife sat on the other side of him. I cannot say for sure, but it seemed to me like we were all in the same general age range.

They had heard an indirect comment that I had made with a good friend who happens to be a WH staff member, which intrigued them to ask me about my vocation. (Under normal circumstances, I tend to guard that info from casual public knowledge for multiple reasons.) After I had explained that I was a veterinarian, the other man responded that pre-vet had been his first love, his first focus in school, but that after he had been seriously advised on how hard it was to get in and then through such a program, he had given up on it and gone in another direction. I believe that direction was a business degree, but I cannot state so definitely. We talked for a little while after that about being animal lovers, and then, about some of the challenges currently bombarding independent veterinarians and the whole spectrum of veterinary medicine.

Our conversation moved on naturally and comfortably towards the principle of retaining independence in our lives, living in less populated areas while still appreciating Atlanta for what it does offer, and a passionate love for all outdoor activities, including mountain biking, hiking, and backpacking.

At some point mutually agreed upon about also appreciating the outside in warmer weather, it came up that this couple, was headed down to their beach house, which they had personally built on some island in the vicinity of Gulf Shores and/or Orange beach. From the way they described it, it sounded glorious and heavenly in regard to my beach preferences. I was happy for them and felt that they deserved to be so successful to be able to afford and enjoy such a piece of property.

Soon, the conversation turned around a switchback once more and together we stumbled into the wilderness area of the Cohutta (GA), home of Jacks River Trail, the Conasauga River Trail, and Bear Creek MTN Bike Trail, amongst other treasures. Our knowledge rivaled one another about the entire area, but his definitely bested mine a bit. We talked about the trails, hiking and biking, the crashes, getting lost miles off of the map, unknowingly stumbling into the Mountaintown floodplain basin, and the bigass Poplar tree that serves as a sentinel for those riding on the Bear Creek Trail.

Eventually, my new friend(s) revealed that he actually owned a cabin in the Cohutta in an area that I am familiar with and truthfully very fond of. And then, he revealed that he also owned a second cabin that stood in a different, more remote and secluded region of that wilderness area. The second cabin is harder to get to than the first and its location does not even allow him access to an electrical connection, but nonetheless, it is still a second cabin and land that he happens to own in one of the most beautiful and feral areas of Georgia. He more than graciously offered to let me use either of the cabins and before parting, we exchanged numbers and emails. They seem like very genuine, extremely cool people, who just get it. We even discussed maybe getting together to force ourselves to ride our mountain bikes again. I like the idea. I like their spirit. I loved the conversation and the happenstance of spontaneously meeting people like that in one improbable moment or strand of theoretical time, space, and reality. T’was Christmas Day and a time for such connections, discoveries, and eventual ponderings.

I would be lying though, if I didn’t also say that I did experience a smidgen of irony and jealousy in this communion and our shared tale of choices and the consequences those choices had brought about. A lifetime ago, my newfound friend turned away from veterinary school because it was too hard and difficult to gain admittance and then to survive the tribulation associated with earning such a degree, but it would appear his financial gains related to such a decision, have far, far surpassed anything that comes even remotely close to my own. I can barely take a vacation and I am essentially homeless, while he (and his wife) owns a primary house with considerable acreage, a beach house, and at least two other cabins in a pristine Wilderness Area.

I accept the choices and the associated consequences related to such that I have made. I also do not wish ill will upon these new friends of mine. I am happy for them. If I had to hedge a bet, I would guess the world is better with them in it. But I wonder, I really do wonder, about our world and the reward system of business that people have fostered and caused to thrive.

I imagined once I was accepted into veterinary school, I would be the one making a little extra money, the one having a little extra family time, the one with maybe an extra house or two, both modest of course. I never imagined or conceived in my wildest dreams, that financial reward could work inversely upon someone who competed and survived in a challenging professional atmosphere, and who also just wanted to put his vocational expertise and responsibility foremost over revenue and salary. I never imagined that was a real possibility for the longest time.

I wonder if I was presented with the real option of switching places with my newfound friends what I might do. I have to admit that I’m very tired of suffering for trying to honorable, noble, and skillful in my profession. Those houses and getaways are quite alluring to me. I also wonder if they might switch places with me? Would that first love of interest and desired accomplishment hold over the material assets and accumulations that resulted from less of a challenge, if he knew, knew, he could attain the title of Doctor of Veterinary Medicine and the associated responsibility of such?

Jeff Cribb , Doctor of Veterinary Medicine and Lover of the Great Outdoors

2017