Flash of Lightning

A flash of a memory...

A moment of clarity... It shows. Damn. I think I almost broke this thing in Bali... I have focused so deeply on my memory of that time... I haven't reread my account yet, I want to let my memory's instinctual selection of focuses carry me through. I remember the feeling of being in a new world, beyond my understanding. I remember hallucinogenic adventures. I remember the only whore I ever actually enjoyed. I remember learning things and looking into darkness which terrified me before.

One memory that just came back... the cave. I went to an old balinese temple Their mix of polytheism and buddhism... hmm.... And I looked at the opening, there was a stone carving of what I interpreted as a demonic skull, warning me to get out. I think at some level trying to prove to myself my rejection of fear and god I went to push into the cave, carrying a small flashlight. As I got beyond the carving, deeper in, and to the edge of true darkness, my flashlight battery died. I told myself to push deeper, but then in my head I remember this answer coming back "it's not safe, you can't see, you don't know what's there..." and I felt fear, and I turned back. The rest of that trip I had in me this wonder if I had angered that demon. As that trip went on I came to many bad events. While I was there I had the courage to believe I had cursed myself by rejecting that warning and disrespecting their belief and God. As I moved further from that island, I moved further from my self, and returned to my rejection of belief. It gave me a chance to escape. It tried desperately to help me I think... It burnt me, it broke my ankle, it made me miss my flight, it gave me books, and friends, people, experiences, times that showed me the world in its truth more clearly than anything I'd seen before, but I closed my ankle to it. I refused to accept my vulnerability, chose stoicism over true self-knowledge, and went to New Zealand on a broken ankle. I'm not sure though I fully regret that though. What I will choose to ask myself in introspection: did I in making that choice, face myself with greater challenges that at some levele steeled me further and gave me strength? Or did I just negate opportunity to actualize potential. The answer is a matter of choice. I seized negative to begin, it's time to turn to positive.

 In my early notes, where by my recollection, and brief glances of moments, I was an arrogant bugger, caught deep in the idea of being my own god at some level. I remember hitting the moment of conflict in Australia. I still carry the scars. I couldn't understand it, but one night when I was there I started heating a lighter and burning myself with it. Over and over, all night. I got drunk, down into the darkness, and I don't know what started me. I remember being in a bar and talking to two young irish men, and them telling me their accounts of the work they'd done to get there, they impressed me, I was jealous of their accomplishments, and I felt guilty over not having earned this trip, over my destructive youth, the ways I'd treated my mom and the world around me and my friends, and I began to try and clean it out of myself with punishment. I think that was the beginning of a journey. That was a step that somehow allowed me to open myself to making real friends down there. I don't think I ever got myself open fully, but people saw the bit of light I was beginning to be able to let out, and welcomed me in. I don't think I showed my appreciation for it at the time as well as I should. I wish I remembered names better, but all your faces are in my mind and deep in my heart, and I remember what you gave me and hold it dearly. I think I have a lot more to say about this trip, I have a few more confessions.

Actually fuck it, here's a fun one. I bought a hooker with my mom's credit card. I don't remember the name of the town, but it was on the tour. When I read my journal it might show up. Buying a hooker really sucked. Or well. Hah. Anyways. It was not anything like actually making love to a girl which was what I tried to tell myself it could be. Closed to belief, I was closed to love, and closed to meaning. I don't remember how I got there or why, but I remember getting into the front room of this whore house, being presented with I think 8 women to choose from, and picking what I figured was the best. She was "an import" to use a derogatory term to criticize the world she was in, not her. There was no happiness in here eyes. I got in there, and she played with herself, putting on a big obviously fake show, and then "welcomed me in" shall we say. It was so obvious though she wasn't enjoying herself, I struggled desperately to enjoy myself. It felt good, but it definitely didn't feel good. It's a memory that's bugged me to this day pretty badly and I really didn't think I'd ever have the balls to confess.

There's another side to that coin of confession though. I actually tried one more time in Bali. When I was in the Kama Sutra. I'm not sure if I told in my story that I got a massage before going out for the night, but I did. I didn't actually plan on getting a "massage complete" at the start, I don't think? I'm pretty sure. My memory holds it to getting a really nice massage, except she kept kind of sneakily playing with the banana, and offering a more complete service. Eventually she convinced me. I had a completely different experience that time... She, at some level, "enjoyed it". I think that just let me convince myself she at all levels enjoyed it, and was actually a gift from her, that helped me forgive myself for stuff I'd done before. I didn't see it as that then, but I also didn't see it as just some magnificent self-accomplishment. Somehow it was just relaxing, I don't know, the way her and her boss were actually very casually friendly to me after without acting in direct or financial self interest helped me feel good about this side of myself I was trying to deny. Probably if I'd had the balls and brains to get laid more on that trip I'd have sorted shit out sooner too. I've been a pretty big goof with girls my whole life I'd say.

That reminds me of another moment of memory the inner me held onto dearly from that trip. Speaking to a friend at the hostel, I'm remembering him as Graeme, but it's quite possible I'm wrong. We were sitting out back in the sun patio, talking about girls. I was asking him for advice,. He was probably as successful with girls as I've ever seen (Ryan Sparling?). When I asked him, he told me. He didn't completely understand it. He'd only recently figured it out. He'd had to open himself up. What he hadn't realized or admitted before was that even if it just felt like a flash of a moment to him or a meaningless touch, there's something bigger going on. Even in a kiss, there's a sharing, a contact. When you make love to someone, you take a piece of their heart whether they like it or not, and you give them a piece of yours. Whether or not you admit that to yourself, it happens. That's a belief not a knowledge. And it came from a guy who had had a one night stand the night before, it's not some black-white espousal of monogamy. It's just a matter of opening yourself to the deeper inner recognition of meaning, and not trying to rob yourself of the true happiness of the moment to let yourself indulge freely in sex.

I think that's something I was too scared to do. My interpretation of my parents'  divorce held it to me. I had them as a pair of gods and a pair of demons. Two innocent people, pursuing love, putting love first, so smart, so amazing, so perfect. No way I could let them take the responsibility for what they went through. I think I sought in response to that to close myself to the idea of the openness and interconnection of mutual recognition that love can be such a foundational building block for. Realizing that about myself makes my heart pour out to girls I've probably messed with a ton. On the surface I was probably able to project this ideal I constructed of myself which was in love with you, but I wasn't able to let you that deep into me, allow the vulnerability right into my heart, and if I was able to get into yours on the credit of that false projection, moment where that wall inside me showed must have been hard.

There's a part of me that wonders if I was protecting my inner child for a reason. I've gone through a long period of celibacy, not initially by choice, or consciously by choice actually might be the more correct answer. In retrospect, if my interpretation is correct, I probably had more chances to get laid than I noticed... heh.  Most guys do though I think. I think that was really good for me. I think I'd built up a very negative history with myself and my relationship to sex and love and all of that and I needed enough of a time out period to break the pattern.

I just had a flash back: the real lesson from me being a young horny spoiled asshole and buying hookers while travelling at 18 on (mostly, I may have earned some of the Balinese one's dough as a mover) my mom's card,  (well first is don't do that or you end up feeling bad for a while haha) is that it's not some black-white thing. My first one was really discomforting and wrong, and I judged it as some ethical black-white wrong. But it's just more complicated, like everything else. When it's wrong, it can be really, really wrong. There is a serious issue with it being a market which generates a slave trade, abuse, organized crime, and god knows how much else. And it's definitely not good for me. I think I have enough strength/happiness inside myself to hold for times where it can be a mutually beneficial experience of growth, where we exchange love for love, energy for energy, time for time, and all else that it means, rather than the twisted path of turning my time and energy into money and the exchange into a hollow falsity. I did draw that strength/happiness from other people though, friends, family, teachers, support of so many kinds. If that's something you know yourself well enough to know is really helping you and a boon to you as a person, I certainly won't judge you for the indulgence. Just not fo' me (anymore) (I don't think/intend/desire).

Hmm all kinds of fun thoughts about sex and trust and patterns and stuff showing up... I think too much of my family reads my blog to get into the details for now though. Admitting to buying hookers with their money is more than enough for one day. Dear mudder .