Who Dad?!

Which Side Am I On?

Coyotes now in my dreams! I woke up certain I was missing the point. Was this some kind of totem animal intervention? I'm myth'defied.

Last night, I attended a Zoom meeting regarding, among other things, recent storm damage at the community. I didn't volunteer to help with that, but I did offer support to those who are trying to raise money to buy the property and keep the community going. I won't be one of them, but I can't be against them. Dreams of community living shaped much of my life. I long thought there were much needed answers in collective ways of living. It took me thirty years to realize how who I was didn't fit in that dream.

I knew how to take charge and get things done. Add an obsessive streak and I was a great guy to have around for solving problems and for making others' lives easier, but was no longer the fun-loving, starry-eyed, long-haired hippie who first found his way there. It was like what that alter-ego exercise back in Chicago revealed. After all of the zaniness dropped away, a serious and responsible person emerged.

Is that what the coyote encounters were about? Was I being nudged to be more playful, more present, more in touch with where my high-flying hippie mind once flew?

With those thoughts in mind, I got on my bike and rode over to Valley of the Moon where I regularly do some light landscaping and watering. I'm not on any of their committees or boards, have no official role there, and only come when no one else is around. It's the healing counter-balance from my years of doing too much. I have boundaries here and now.

There were several large limbs down and I got busy cutting them up to fit in the big green garbage bins. I worked slowly and carefully until the bins were full, then moved them to the street for pick-up. I realized how I have learned to pace myself, to not work until exhausted, or until absolutely everything was done. By myself, I manage to not overdo and I'm getting hints of enjoying, not just enduring, the process. I couldn't help but think of what this same work would be like if I were doing it at the community with others.

Back on my bike, I decided to ride near where I had the first coyote encounter. It wasn't that I expected to see it again, but I was searching for some clarity and that seemed the direction to head.

I see a crouching tree, like a dancer, ready to spring . . .

My eyes play tricks on me in their hunger for motion

within serenity.

Walking my bike through a desert preserve,

a lady, stooped over a carriage attached to a small dog,

inquires about my problem.

I tell her, "Sometimes, I just like to walk."

She points down, winks, and says, "So does he."

Somehow, we three bonded in moving slow:

that dog, his lady, and me.

Truth is, I've been known to change direction,

go far out of my way, to avoid the other.

Even now, as I write these words, shirtless,

taking in sunlight in my own backyard,

the voices of neighbors mix with bothersome flies

obliterate what I want.

Nothing is as I'd like it to be

for long.

And yet the elixir most sweet is distilled

only in moments I can not predict

with others unknown to me.

Could I ever be a crouching tree

ready to spring

ever so slowly

on a shared

serenity?

There you have it. That's me. One minute thriving alone, then loving a chance encounter with another, but soon after repelled by humans again. I need seams between opposite things. Alone and together, not either-or.

Susan was gone a couple of nights this past weekend. She was at a national slide dance convention of sorts in Phoenix. (One never knows what she will get into next.) The first night I joined a party of eight for dinner at the club. I seldom go there on a Friday night because it's more crowded then. Actually, I seldom am there at night, except on Wednesdays for Men & Martinis, which typically follows a nine hole scramble.

On a Wednesday night, usually outside on the patio, as many tables as needed are brought together and we all sit around telling stories and jokes, teasing and arguing about various topics. There are more Republicans than Democrats, but it seldom gets ugly. I'm registered as an Independent and often try to bridge the differences in discussion. I don't want to choose sides. I don't want there to be sides!

On Friday though, I noticed how the various groups in the dining room were more separated along family and political allegiances. I looked around the room, thought of all the conversations I've been a part of with other members, and how I was almost always comfortable. Is there a political equivalent to being bisexual? I have kidded in the past about wanting to start a third party based on cooperation, maybe the Common Ground Party, but really I want someone else to do the work, I just want it to be.

When that long awaited day finally comes . . .

Excited, apprehensive, unsure.

What should I wear?

Feels like I need a costume.

I'd like to go out and interact with my fellow citizens,

do some unofficial polling, not about voting, but mood.

Don't want to threaten anyone, just engage.

Perhaps a tuxedo, an eye patch, a hunched back,

and high heels for starters?

Look up with a friendly eye and ask,

"How are you feeling today?"

What if we all went out of our way

to assure each other everything will be okay?

Yeah, maybe without disguise would be best

to make the fleeting contact that releases anticipation

and reminds us of a shared humanity

sometimes lost in translation.