Pentad’s Weblog

What in the heck do personal development and relationships have to do with each other? If we need help with our love lives and our intimate relationships, should we not seek therapy? It needs to be talked about, does it not? We need to know our shortcomings, do we not? Do we not need to know how we can bend, and give-and-take, in order to become more compatible?

“Order the appointment. Does our insurance cover stuff like this? No idea. It just may cover the valium to keep us from driving each other crazy.”

OK. Enough of the sarcastic funnies. They were not that funny, because, eegads, relationships can feel so frustrating sometimes.

At the risk of someone considering this line of thinking ‘egotistical’, the bottom line is that one of the best things we can ever do for our personal relationships is to focus more on ourselves. An oh so difficult thought for the many women that have occupied my office chair. They can feel so guilty for not putting everyone ahead of themselves, and feel hurt when they end up in a ‘drained and empty-handed’ condition.

It is really not the job of others to fulfill our happiness. When we lose contact with our core personal happiness, and turn that focus outwards we tend to want to control outcomes, and we build expectations. It is normal, so everyone is normal.

We become needy, and forever vulnerable to the actions of others. Vulnerability is a positive word in my vocabulary, however, not when we cannot be happy within ourselves. From friendship to coupleness, relations are units of people interacting. An intimate relationship between two people should be two people sharing their personal happiness together, and investing in the relationship as many positives that are possible. The more positives, the easier it is to weather the storms. It’s what we commit to when we promise, ‘for better or worse’. It ain’t easy, but no one promised that it would be.

Fill yourself up. Fill yourself with you. Enjoy you. Then let the excess flow over to your relationship. No two days will be alike, however, it will be authentic when your partner receives it. They will feel the difference. Perhaps all you can afford on a bad day is a pat on the shoulder, or a simple hug. Other days will feel differently. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is quality and heartfelt positive emotion. Not quantity, or the preferences of how it should be done.

So, turn that focus inwards, and take a gander. When you rid yourself of the old, you make room for the new, and you actually end up with more room. If something new needs to happen in the relationship, try it. When one person changes something, status quo cannot be completely maintained. Will there be reactions? Heck, yes! Most likely, and especially if you are the type that invests so much in others, that you end up giving of emptiness to the point of exhaustion. People just may react to the fact that they begin to receive less. I had to dedicate a whole section about dealing with these reactions in my book, as the issue is so crucial to the process of change.

I believe that the people that we love would rather receive overflowing happiness, than “I’m doing this, because I ought to be doing this, for the sake of…” (fill in the blank).

Now, go liberate yourselves! Love it, relish in it, and let it flow.

Your time is your life.

©Tamera Daun

image: http://www.adsullata.net

As promised. Wednesday has arrived and with it, my fellow guest writer. This guest being the author of Floog’s Ramblings. I knew when asking him to delve into the essence of acceptance, love, and even the experience of non-acceptance, that he would explore all aspects, all levels, and deliver well-rounded depth. Not only as a human being with universal needs and emotions, but also as a male walking the path of life and love. As you will read, there is little difference between the female and male experiences, and felt happiness when met with acceptance. We have all become many things as adults, but I believe that at our core there resides more similarities than we believe. Yet, not all express it with ease.

I present the essence of Floog, and his work entitled,

The Essence of Me

No, though it sounds like the tacky name chosen for a new brand of sweet, sickly perfume marketed by another of today’s passing wannabe starlets with the talent of fresh road kill, and a million dollar contract with Lentheric, it is actually, I assure you, not.

Being asked by Tamera to guest write my personal feelings on the matters of love and relationships is a great honour, and one I hope I will do justice to, by focusing on that which is the culmination of a personal crusade to conclude what it is that drives me ever onwards in life.

A life without love would be intolerable, unbearable, unthinkable for me. A loveless life would be akin to walking the earth as a ghost, unseen, unable to experience the power of touch, the comfort and safety of being held, to be wanted and needed. If it were not for love in all its forms and guises, from the intrinsic feeling of connection with another, the strength of empowerment, to the pain it leaves through guilt, remorse and loss, to the simple feeling of hope, then I would have no reason to continue this journey, my life. My very lifeblood would have drained. All meaning, hope and pride mere remnants of a costly and bloody battlefield.

During the course of almost four and a half decades of life on this beautiful, fragile paradise which we call Earth, I have come to learn of, and explore some of the many facets that we humans possess; emotionally, physically and psychologically. Likening oneself to a great big onion (believe me, I’ve been likened to things far worse!), I have systematically peeled away the outer layers, to try and discover what, for me at least, lies within the mysterious core of my being.

Who is the man within?
What lies at my core?
What drives me, inspires me, fulfills my desire for life?
What are my true hunger and passions?
In essence, who am I other than the ever aging face I see reflected in my hallway mirror?

My thoughts and innermost feelings on a variety of matters of huge importance and significance to my personal existence, are held within the cyber pages of my personal blog. I wanted not to go over too many of those previously penned words, but rather focus on, ‘the answer’ to my personal riddle.

I am a fortunate man, I realise, though cursed.

They say that you are the sum of your parents, metaphorically speaking. The contents of their genes naturally pervading the wholeness of your being, and those early first steps, those formative years, that impressionable youth; all owe much to the link we have with the warm skinned bodies who created us during the throes of passion. I agree with this on many levels, and admit that I was lucky. Genes wise, I inherited my father’s quest for knowledge, though sadly not, his aptitude and skills in producing works of art or solutions to problems from inanimate lumps of wood and metal. From my mother, an emotional side, which has given me an honest vantage point. A window on life, for which I am truly grateful.

Let’s just clear up a few areas before I mention my feminine side, and my ever moistened tear ducts, which are rivaled only by the daily water content falling from the mouth of Niagara falls herself!

I am a man. In actuality, I am a large man in size and height; with deep, red, testosterone enriched blood coursing through my veins. I’ve been a motorcyclist all my life, a Policeman, a medal winning rugby and football player (proper English football that is, not that girlie American version where they all wear body armour so they don’t get hurt, and run around handling the ball), and a medal winning athlete for my school. I’ve grown up with men, hailing from a time in the UK certainly, when men ruled almost all walks of life. Where the many fold and irrefutable qualities that only women possess and can bring to the fore, were just bubbling under the surface, held back by centuries of repression.

Being in touch with my feminine side has been a lifelong blessing, and a curse. Crying during the scene in which Simba is trampled to death by a pack of wilder beasts in the animated classic, ‘The Lion King’, and risking life and limb to rescue a stranded baby seagull on the perilous, windy cliff tops of Margate, do little to bolster your manly image. My history is littered with the anomoly of certain men disliking me for my honesty, openness and ability to discuss taboo subjects such as love, sexuality, infidelity and death. Women viewing me as a ‘best friend’, when I wanted to be viewed as a lover. The plus side being a diversity of life, a desire to examine and explore with no boundaries and preconceptions, a thirst for knowledge, and the answer to the multitude of questions I have rattling around in the dense walls of my single-cell brain at any given time.

I adore women.

Typical man! The sexist pig! But, no. I really do adore women. During the course of my life, I have always enjoyed the company of, and responded to women on a deeper, more intrinsically pure level than with men. Of course there’s a sexual element, I’d be lying if I tried to say this was not the case. I love the female form, the curves, the sensuality, the form and function, the innocence of not truly understanding the spell they have over us weak men. We are captivated, mesmerized, lost in your eyes, your aura, slaves.

But let me just say that I can honestly state, hand on heart, that I have never been unfaithful to a partner, nor would I ever. That is a dividing line between right and wrong for me, as clear as night and day. I believe that love is a bond, a tie and one which is worth fighting for, defending, protecting. Infidelity of the mind is completely different from infidelity of the heart, and too many men cannot shake the animal instinct to procreate with anyone of the opposite sex, so long as they possess a pulse, that I grew weary of their excuses and ineptitudes long ago.

Infidelity, though offering itself to me at various stages of my life, holds no appeal, nor fascination, nor thrill for this principled, monogamous specimen. It is a painful line which was deliberately crossed by a long-term partner, who, having fully understood and acknowledged my belief that adultery could never be personally tolerated, or accepted by me within the confines of a relationship, tried to test me to the limit by embarking upon an impromptu affair with a stranger, whereby rubbing the sordid details under my nose.

Naturally, there were many elements to the failure in our relationship, and blame to be apportioned accordingly. When you have steak at home, why look at mincemeat elsewhere? In this relationship, with hindsight, I think I was viewed more as the fatty residue of a low grade sausage!

I do not claim to be a saint, nor expect people reading this to assume I was innocent and blameless, but those who know me, would tell you that I was both. In truth, the relationship was doomed, shaky, one-sided love desperate for reciprocal action, which never came. Ultimately, the Scottish nomad who proved the catalyst for the termination of the relationship, and the subsequent battles to save my house, possessions and money that I’d worked all my life for, did me a favour. I retreated into the confines of my mind and hid for a time, examining every episode of my existence in a search for explanation and meaning. I discovered a truer, more accurate portrayal of ‘me’ than I ever dared hope existed. Happily, the adulterous couple later married and produced a demonous spawn from their illicit affair, and I’m truly glad it worked out for them…the bastards!

My connection with women comes from the relationship I’ve always enjoyed with my mother. Unconditional love from any mother is truly a gift to behold, and one which sadly, is not the prerequisite of all parental charters, and equally squandered by so many.

Love has been dominant in my life through good times and bad. Like so many, I have endured tragedy and the pain of loss. Not being able to say goodbye to a biking friend who was killed, and living with a family’s blame for seventeen years until Tamera unwittingly walked into my life offering me a portal of expression, and showing another facet to the capacity of, and to, love. The mixed emotions of losing a family member, and the unspoken reciprocal love being severed unexpectedly, hit me just this week with the passing of my Grandfather. We grieve for ourselves, we walk through the valley of guilt, but on the other side of mourning is the clarity of a new day. The love we felt never dies, it evolves and changes, it remains in our hearts always. So many friends and family have passed away since reaching the age of twenty five. I suddenly became aware of my own mortality, and I realised that I had discovered the very source of power to my core.

I am not religious. I am tolerant of all who are, though decades of study have formed an opinion which is sure and steady, unshakable and true to my ideals. To use a wonderful phrase coined by an inspirational, and intelligent fellow blogger, ‘The Blogger Exposed’, I have ‘Freedom from religion’. I am free to think, to feel, to experience life’s rich pickings without the shackles of a story, a belief of which I do not trust, or aspire to. I have come to realise that my religion is LIFE, my faith is LOVE and that my life is permeated by the essence of both, through good and bad. No false prophets, nor prayers for guidance from me, just a belief that the ups and downs of our short time here are so deeply enhanced and enriched by the love for, and from ourselves and others.

During my darkest hours, when all was bleak and the realities of life so harsh and cruel, it was love that picked me up, and pulled me from the wreckage of despair. The unconditional love of my parents was a constant, a given, an emotional crutch which has always been a constant source of inspiration to me, but the love from an unexpected source was to come as a shock, and change my life forever.

I’ll end with a poem written last week, as I believe it says more than I could ever hope in a million sentences, and which ties in with my reasoning on the importance of love in my life.

The Fallen King

I was lost in the wilderness for a while
I’m sure I heard you call my name
Though I hid myself deeper within the confines
of my solitary kingdom
I was hurting, back then, you see
Used and discarded like someones unwanted trash
The unwelcome attentions of an uncaring world
Sifting through my prone, laid bare sinews
Judgemental in their scathing tones
Except for you

I was scared for a time, I will admit
My heart and head entrenched in a violent war
Love’s battlefield lay strewn with past victims
The wrecked carcass of humanity drained
And bones picked clean by the scavengers of fate
Confusion taunted me like Death to the dying
My fortress sealed, my drawbridge up
I held you at arm’s length
Though I craved your love, your touch, your smell
But you were patient, and you were wise
You looked beyond the cracked shell, the broken man, the facade, the act
And you simply cared

I was battered and bruised from hate’s cruel intentions
My spirit broken, my heart’s fire dampened
I hid within those crumbling castle walls, scared to think, to feel, to dare
And you chose not to push, nor chase, nor roam
Instead, rebuilding my thick comfort walls, brick by brick
Til I was whole again, and safe within
My hope restored, my faith renewed
As though discovering life anew, yet once more
I emerged from my retreat, and there you were
Waiting, as you said you would
And as I’d hoped

I sought out truth from circumstance
Contemplative memoirs from a deeply flawed soul
Bitter and betrayed by life, scouring the fall out wreckage
Of catastrophic events
But you held my hand and soothed a furrowed brow
Through the darkness of despair, the musings
Of a heavy, wounded heart
Emerging the victor, valiant against reflection
Remorse and guilt
Strong from your love and free of all chains
Lost in the simplicity of your thoughts
Cleansed, purged, safe

I was nervous then, I have to say
Tentative steps, cautious words, and trepidation were the order of the day
But you just smiled, and made me laugh
You filled my heart with love
You knew me better than I knew myself
The one who saved this fallen king
My Soul mate
You inspire me deeply, and affect me so
I am at one with you, and once more whole
I was lost in the wilderness for a while
But now I am a king once more
And all because of you
My Queen

Written for, PATRICIA . My wife.
©P.Williams, 2008

opening image; http://www.starbase1.co.uk
broken heart; http://guilds.outpost10f.com
The fallen king; http://www.toddbaxterdawson.com

As a thinking exercise in thread with the subject of preferences, let me tell you a little story. It is a true story, although not mine personally. I also ask that you ponder it figuratively. Each individual reading these posts has unique preferences, and each person places different values on these preferences. Some are more important than others, right? People also tend to be more detailed and demanding in their intimate love relations. Demanding is not necessarily a negative word, so don’t cringe when I use it.

Try to let this extremely simplistic story float through your mind, and let it settle. It is by no means a serious scenario. It is more of an exercise pointing out how tightly people hang on to tradition, habit, and therefore preferences. People have expectations of how love should be shown and manifested, and they have distinct preferences regarding daily practicalities. So, everything from the more vague concepts of love, romance, and parenthood, to whether the toilet seat should be up or down, become potential relationship pitfalls. My question being how many personal preferences do we really need? Do we not many times constrain ourselves by unnecessary preferences? I believe so.

There once was a couple that had been married for 14 years. Each Sunday they popped a roast in the oven, and while it roasted they would head outside, and take a walk. By no means a fancy occurrence, however a Sunday activity for this particular couple. Both had grown up with traditional Sunday roasts in their respective homes. The only drawback to this Sunday tradition, was that before they ever stepped out of the door, an argument always occurred regarding the preparation of the meal.

Throughout the first months and years of the marriage, they would incessantly argue about how the roast should be prepared, both claiming their method correct. The wife had a habit of cutting the roast in half before placing it in the oven. Of course, the husband found this completely ridiculous, arguing that this was not how meat should be prepared. They bickered about everything from temperature, to tenderness, to juiciness, and on it went. For some reason the wife usually won, stating that this was how her grandmother had always prepared a roast, and since Granny was a master cook, she refused to budge from her method.

Eventually the hard-core ‘roast’ arguments died down, although replaced with rolling of the eyes, snickering under the breath, and the shaking of heads in contempt. The years rolled by, and the husband no longer bothered to join her in the kitchen before their weekly walk. Neither were these moments consciously registered any longer, yet something remained. It was no longer a topic of conversation.

Some years later the couple was invited out of town to the wife’s family reunion. At this gathering the wife and her grandmother began to reminisce, the wife reassuring that she held Granny’s cooking traditions in high regard. The issue of roast preparation became the topic. Granny laughed and seemed amused as she told her granddaughter that cutting the roast in half was by no means a family cooking secret.

Decades ago their oven was so small that she could not fit a pan large enough to room a roast for a family of six. She was forced to cut it in two, placing the halves in two different pans, and on the two existing shelves in the oven.

End of story.

Ok, then. Tomorrow is a real treat. I will be posting the brilliance of a fellow writer. No matter if we are female or male, all hearts tend to open to wonderful feelings when experiencing acceptance mirrored through the eyes of a loved one. Although some people may be better at verbalizing their feelings of love, that does not mean that those quiet personalities do not also feel the depth of the emotion. Tomorrow’s post is from the heart of a man.