Category Archives: emotional health

Golden Eggs (2) ~ Early Morning Thoughts`

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Last night I recounted a fable about the golden goose that laid golden eggs.

“[While many people see the story as a warning against greed or even the more you produce, the more you do, the more effective you will be.] . . . I suggest that within this fable is a natural law, a principle – the basic definition of effectiveness True effectiveness is a function of two things: what is produced (the golden eggs) and the producing asset or capacity to produce (the goose).

If you adopt a pattern of life that focuses on golden eggs and neglects the goose, you will soon be without the asset that produces golden eggs. On the other hand, if you only take care of the goose with no aim toward the golden eggs, you soon won’t have the wherewithal to feed yourself or the goose.“1

At this point, I basically had an epiphany about some of what I had been doing in the past and even recently. (Epiphany can be a “nice” word for getting smacked in the back of the head with a 2×4)

I learned there are three kinds of assets – physical, financial and human.
Three years ago, I purchased a good computer. Later I purchased a very good monitor…(not to play World of Warcraft, of course) And over time, I’ve given some thought to their maintenance and upkeep – but not as much as I should have. Now, the computer is in need of some attention, by someone that is a little more knowledgeable than I am about serious maintenance. I was actually looking at the short-term and had started to run this asset down. Of course, I can say the same about my body – and trust me there is a LOT of work to be done there. (major overhaul for 600, Alex)

The next asset is financial. And I’ve had to make some changes there as well. Not that I, at this point, have to worry – but if I were to continue living my life as if tomorrow didn’t matter, I would soon be having to worry about tomorrow. Of course, our ability to earn and manage money is a financial asset as well. But, there will come a time when perhaps I won’t be able to earn money and I don’t want to do things that will get in the way of the now.

A year and a half ago, I took a job as a by-the-week apartment manager 1) because it was supposedly right up my alley and 2) it was going to pay me a salary that was much higher than the level of the job seemed to be. It was what seemed to be a good opportunity. Lots of promises were made and I signed on at the interview. The fact also that I had been without work for sometime might have played a part in it as well.

Now that I look back – especially with the golden goose in mind – I realize that this fable DOES contain principles. The properties were owned by a slumlord less than honorable group of people. There were serious maintenance issues, etc. I thought at the time, if I can only get the rents collected, keep the tenants happy keep moving people into empty apartments and get whatever maintenance needs accomplished I can within the system that I would be fine.

Right at the start what was being produced (the rents) was getting much more attention than the capacity to produce (the apartments). And as I look back over some of my posts about the place, I knew what was going to happen much earlier then I admitted it to myself. And now, I’m doing in six days what “normal” apartment managers do in four weeks. And each week I got the privilege of starting all over again.

So now, I’m fighting my ability to collect rents/fill apartments/evict those who don’t pay/keep the central family office happy (what is being produced) by my constant frustration over what isn’t happening and my feelings of sheer terror at losing the job and not having an income (producing capacity) as well as being determined to please the “boss.”.

Up until the last several weeks (the change due to a lost lawsuit about overtime) managers were basically on-call 24/7 and worked seven days a week. Something was going to give, and I can tell you – as far as the family was concerned – it wasn’t going to be what was being produced.

As I began to spiral downward from all that was going on – to say nothing of what I was fighting mentally that I didn’t even realize – I have to say that my rent collections were the best in the entire system of apartments (in three states). I had a positive balance on the spreadsheets – the bible of the owning family – and everyone had basically paid all that was owed and some were even ahead.

–more on this tomorrow
_______________
1. 7 Habits of Highly Effective People – Stephen R. Covey pg. 56

Golden Eggs ~ Late Evening Thoughts

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With tropical storm Eduard bearing down, people are beginning preparations for what may/might happen … where I live in Houston, we will probably have plenty of rain and some wind. As with tropical storms/hurricanes they have a tendency to keep their intentions fairly close to the chest and don’t play their cards until the last possible moment.

Lat week I finally got a copy of a book that has been available for a number of years. I have e-mailed the author for permission to do some quotes from the book, but tonight I wanted to start with a story the author tells. It was a story I’d heard a number (?!) of times before – but where I am on this journey now – this time it really spoke to me on a number of different levels. (with apologies to Aesop and others)

There once was a man who by being blessed with good fortune was given a goose in exchange for some work that he did. While he was not happy with only getting a goose, he thought it would at least make a good dinner as it seemed very fat and actually quite content.

He took it home and placed the goose in a box by the fireplace so that it could stay warm and stay within sight.

In the morning when he looked in the box the goose had been in – he was astonished to see a golden egg. One golden egg. Knowing this was quite valuable, he took it into market and sold it for quite a good sum of money. He was pleased.

Each morning he checked the goose’s box and each morning there was yet another golden egg – each as valuable as the first one.

This went on for sometime and eventually the man became somewhat impatient. Rather than having just one egg a day, he began to wonder why they goose didn’t lay two or three. . . or even more.

He began to realize that the goose must have either gold inside or a lot of golden eggs. So, early one morning – right after the goose had laid yet another golden treasure, the man killed it.

He quickly cut it open expecting to find a treasure that would make him rich and powerful for his entire life. He was to find nothing other than what any goose or living creature would have inside.

And now, he was left with a hacked up goose not fit for cooking and no goose to lay golden eggs.

For years I’ve heard the “moral” of the story as “greed can overreach itself” or “haste makes waste” or “what some people have is never enough.” But there is a very different approach to the story that really had me evaluating my life and somethings that I’ve done. Not that they were “bad”, so to speak – but perhaps there might have been a better way…

–more tomorrow

By the way – I thought you might enjoy the Indian version of the story – this was translated and published in 1895.

The Golden Mallard
from The Jataka

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born a Brahmin, and growing up was married to a bride of his own rank, who bore him three daughters named Nanda, Nanda-vati, and Sundari-nanda. The Bodhisatta dying, they were taken in by neighbors and friends, whilst he was born again into the world as a golden mallard endowed with consciousness of its former existences.

Growing up, the bird viewed its own magnificent size and golden plumage, and remembered that previously it had been a human being. Discovering that his wife and daughters were living on the charity of others, the mallard bethought him of his plumage like hammered and beaten gold and how by giving them a golden feather at a time he could enable his wife and daughters to live in comfort. So away he flew to where they dwelt and alighted on the top of the central beam of the roof. Seeing the Bodhisatta, the wife and girls asked where he had come from; and he told them that he was their father who had died and been born a golden mallard, and that he had come to visit them and put an end to their miserable necessity of working for hire.

“You shall have my feathers,” said he, “one by one, and they will sell for enough to keep you all in ease and comfort.”

So saying, he gave them one of his feathers and departed. And from time to time he returned to give them another feather, and with the proceeds of their sale these Brahmin women grew prosperous and quite well to do.

But one day the mother said to her daughters, “There’s no trusting animals, my children. Who’s to say your father might not go away one of these days and never come back again? Let us use our time and pluck him clean next time he comes, so as to make sure of all his feathers.”

Thinking this would pain him, the daughters refused.

The mother in her greed called the golden mallard to her one day when he came, and then took him with both hands and plucked him.

Now the Bodhisatta’s feathers had this property that if they were plucked out against his wish, they ceased to be golden and became like a crane’s feathers. And now the poor bird, though he stretched his wings, could not fly, and the woman flung him into a barrel and gave him food there. As time went on his feathers grew again (though they were plain white ones now), and he flew away to his own abode and never came back again.

And The Non-Winner Is …. Early Evening Thoughts.

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My apologies for not posting over the last few days. I really couldn’t bring myself to post something humorous or trying to let you know part of the story when I myself didn’t know how it was going to turn out. I wrote in the last point about my friend playing crash and burn with his body and mind. I think crash and burn won….

After he recovered from last Sunday ~ we had several l-o-n-g talks about what was happening and what he was not only doing to himself, but to those around him. I was trying to be careful not to be judgmental and/ or evangelical. It was becoming an extremely difficult task.

I finally got through with the sentence: “I can care unconditionally – but I don’t have to accept the behaviors unconditionally.” So, he agreed that getting to the counseling center and getting into therapy was the only way to go.

Yesterday, I got a phone call from him wanting to meet for lunch and talk. He was worried about what was going to happen and if he really had the strength to resist his addictions. We talked for a few moments and I hung up to get ready to go down the road and meet him for lunch. He arrived and seemed in good shape – looks and demeanor can be deceiving. I realized that when he took out a bottle of vodka during lunch and helped himself. Once again I’m thinking – “holy Crap now what!” (raging drunks for 1000 Alex.)

At this point I’m also thinking “This is a restaurant I will be unable to go back to….” But my deepest concern is for my friend. He’s at this time beginning to spin out of control. I finally get him convinced to leave the restaurant ~ he wanted to buy a backpack and I thought the walk to the store might help. (foolish thoughts for 500 Alex.) And once again I was left shaking my head in disbelief.

I knew I could get him a ride ~ a friend of both of us was still willing to work with him. Several calls later he agreed to pick us both up – but particularly “Mouthwash”.

He “earned” the nickname from the Crisis Residential Unit we were both in after my stay in the hospital. He actually managed to get alcohol and smuggle it into the unit. He wasn’t selfish evidently ~ more than willing to share with others. Of course, the fact that everyone was on medication that might have a very negative (as in deadly) reaction to it never figured into his conscious. The alcohol? One that needs to be banned from drug store shelves. I’m not going to reveal the name – but the next time you are in a drug store look for a mouthwash that is more than 50 proof. The night at the unit was very interesting. He was turned in to the director and actually never denied the alcohol, merely blamed whoever turned him in as being at fault.

As the counseling center I was hoping to get him into was closed Friday/Saturday and Sunday. He had promised to call on Monday to get the intake appointment, and I agreed that I would go with him. All I could do was hope that he would be able to hold on until then. We finished getting the backpack and a really great pair of sunglasses for me and went outside to wait for our friend to come and take him away.Mouthwash decides that sitting on the sidewalk is the best option. So, now I’m sitting on the sidewalk (getting down there with my knees was a fun undertaking) ~ and he’s sitting there taking alternate hits from a vodka bottle and soda bottle. All I could think was what a great picture we were – and how much we both looked like older homeless men sharing a moment. As we were not sharing the bottle that’s all we would be sharing. He rambled on and on and I kept praying that no one I knew would show up.

That’s when the rest of the story came out. Not only had he been imbibing alcohol this week – but he had been mixing codeine cough syrup and pills (Xantax specifically) ~ a sure-fire meltdown combination. Now I’m worrying about getting arrested simply becvause I’m sitting next to him . . . and I have begun to create a catastrophe out of the situation. I’m not going to share those with you at this point ~ but later they became quite funny.

Finally we had poured him into the car and he was being taken back to the center where he lives to sleep it off …

The sleeping it off hope ended ~ evidently ~ when he passed out in his doorstep and awoke moments later cursing and threatening everyone in sight. . . including the friend that drove him home and was trying to get him into his room. Details are a little sketchy, but from what I found out ~ he checked himself out of the center and headed off to one of the most dangerous areas of town to add crack to the ingredients in his system. Today we learned that he was beaten up and arrested…no one knows for sure, but it sounds pretty likely to me.

Today when I contemplated what had gone on – I realized that my view of things/people/places and events has really changed. I know that there is nothing I can do to help this person directly and that worrying about it is neither productive nor helpful.

What does concern me is what this says about people I am around. There will be more on that soon.

Erin Go . . . ~ Late Evening Thoughts

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To say that last week was interesting would be an understatement. It was a wild, intense and one where a lot was accomplished. Not easily ~ not always with charm ~ not always without some stress. But then the weekend had arrived and I was “good to go.” Little did I know it should have gotten up and gone!

I was especially looking forward to Sunday when someone that I have gotten to know quite well and I were going to have a quick sandwich and coffee at a small streetside cafe and then spend the afternoon exploring Half Price Books. We had arranged to meet at the cafe around 1:30 in the afternoon. This would still give plenty of time for enjoying the book store. Around 10:00 in the morning I began to get text messages and then phone calls changing the time and location of where we were to meet. Finally I told that the place we would meet would be La Strada. (cue mournful music here.) This establishment was an attempt at an upscale Italian restaurant. Fortunately, they managed the upscale and the upscale price part. Unfortunately, (as far as I was concerned) they didn’t manage the food part.

I decided that I would have some dessert and let that be that.
I headed out on the adventure of the day. (cue Psycho violins here.)

When I arrived at the place, I realized even before I got to the door, there had been a change. The place was very noisy…very noisy. I though maybe it was because the windows on the street were open but then as I approached the door I had the reality hit me ~ this was not the case at all.

The upscale restaurant had become (on Sundays) a 21 (barely) and up (barely) party central location. It’s a little hard to remain upscale when all the drinks are being served in plastic glasses – coffee in foam cups!! And the place was packed. I realized that probably 80% of the boys “guy’s” voices hadn’t changed (21??) and NONE of the women’s voiced had progressed beyond grade school. It was as if I were at a Hanna Montana concert that was never going to start.

My friend? He was at the bar trying very hard to get under it – I think. To say that he had been drinking his lunch would have been been an understatement. He had used all the breakfast, dinners AND lunches for three weeks or more. I am now surrounded by people in high-pitched shriek(s) and a very intoxicated friend who is pawing me and giving me bone crushing bear hugs inbetween telling me what I was going to do and asking me for money. Great conversation points there!!

And, of course, Monday was St. Patrick’s Day . . . I found something very interesting and decided to end tonight’s post with these VERY clever cell phone charms from Japan. They are called the 6 stages of drunkenness ~

the first stage is the lecture stage: “Let me tell you something … over and over and over…

The rest and the conclusion tomorrow …

The Ass Of Assumptions (end) ~ Early Morning Thoughts

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A very dear friend of mine (SGB) has a wonderful saying:

“words written can not be unread and
words spoken can not be unheard.”

As D&D would not listen let alone ask, their reactions became more and more pronounced – to me and toward Toby. I was walking a fine line that was no longer a balancing act but a high wire act without a net.

Eventually when walking a high wire while trying to balance any number of things, something is going to fall – and usually the person on the wire is the one that falls. I had been trying to keep everyone at peace and trying to compartmentalize what was going on in my life. While that can be a valid and valuable contribution of life – it can also be a major trap with no escape.

I’ve written before that I have a tendency toward “peace at any cost.” Sometimes there is no peace, and the end cost can turn out to be quite expensive. In this case, with D&D it had several unintended results. The friendship with both came to an immediate end. It wasn’t just that one single comment, but rather a gathering of a number of comments – not just about Toby – that led further and further down the road of erroneous assumptions.

And because they had built themselves a “construct” out of their assumptions, there was no way I could see that would change anything in either their maps or territories.

A construct is any idea that people invent in order to accomplish some particular end. And a construct, while not an absolute truth becomes something people assume to be an absolute.

I finally realized that I was not just walking the high wire around D&D, but I was also being untrue to myself by allowing the comments and assumptions to basically be unchallenged and/or unchecked. I had added false luggage tags and added baggage to my train – and it really was slowing the engine down. It actually spurred me even further to look even more into my life and the assumptions I’ve held onto, and which ones I’ve – perhaps – turned into constructs that need to be de-constructed.

In Wait
There are waves of emotions
that travel on land,
there’s beauty in silence
when you cradle the sun;
there are channels of thought
that use sweat when they paint pores,
there are smiles in drawers
that wait to be released . . .

There is a hidden power within us,
just lying around, waiting to be seen.
—Alex Luna
(copyright 2005)

The ending of a friendship
is a painful
as the click
of a coffin lid.

Letting go
Of assumptions
That don’t fit
This emerging life
Of a planetary
Consciousness,
Releasing
Unjust claims
That hold us hostage
To outworn mindsets,
Which drive us
To destroy ourselves
And others,
As penitence
For our power.

Releasing our minds
From the slavery of violence,
Freedom rushes in,
Flying to
Animate fresh visions
Of who we are
And what we can do,
Enwilling us with
Power over ourselves,
To choose
To be and do
With others.

Discovering love
Encoded in our genes
And compassion
That has been building
Through eons of change.
We find
Revived meaning,
A common purpose,
Shared action,
Different ways
Of seeing life,
New learnings,
A whole-some mix,
A holy diversity
Resolving
To empassion compassion
And stride forward
In myriad modes
Of Peace.

This is our time,
Our chance,
To rally Peace
Into the world.
—Verie Sandborg

The Ass In Assumptions (two) ~ Early Morning Thoughts

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Some time ago, I began talking about assumptions and the problems I faced with D&D because of it …I had written (in part):

Assumptions are typically picked up from the culture in which we live. We acquired them as we acquired so much of our other knowledge from the culture, without being especially aware that we were learning it.

Going back to D&D for a bit – They both, but one of the D’s in particular have acquired a number of assumptions from the culture we live in AND (although they would be loath to admit it) the gay culture they surround themselves with. That happens no matter what the orientation…but in this case, the one D’s (hereafter D2) assumptions have stronger influences than most. . .Quoting from above: Assumptions typically take for granted that something or other is a fact, the way things really are. Even if they are not that way.

D2 had placed Toby in a category based on his assumptions…even though the assumptions had little basis in fact.

It started the night he told me that I “had more patience that he did what “those’ kind of people.” Now, “those kind of people” is a phrase that has always had the effect on me that fingernails on a blackboard have. And usually my reaction to each is about the same. Being a product of the 60’s and 70’s albeit not directly in the South (except for one VERY long year) – I am extremely aware of just how that phase was said and used.

I never expected anyone I was deep friends with (and who knew anything at all about me) would ever show serious bigoted assumptions or anti-people assumptions at anytime. As time marched/moved/tip-toed on with Toby and me, there were other remarks that were made showing a lack of understanding.

As I had written IF they had asked question and truly listened to the answers, there would not have been a problem. However, for them it was easier to make the assumptions then to find out the truth.

Toby has a bit of an image problem…I would be the first to admit that – but also the first to find out that the image does not match the reality. (Hmmmm, sounds like a few other posts I’ve written.) Toby is 6 feet 4 inches tall with tattoos on each arm. He’s somewhat “built”, keeps his hair buzzed short and has an Ohio accent (crossed with a deep South accent) you could – at times – cut with a chain-saw. He enjoys people of all types and is very gregarious and at times exceptionally outgoing. And yes, he can be mistaken for a hustler.

When I first met Toby I had problems as well. I had written about a deep rooted cynicism that I had to root out.

Later, after D&D’s return from successful errand running. Toby (not his real name or initial) whom I had never seen before, literally came and starting “working” me…I’d use the term hitting on me, but I didn’t want to give the impression of violence. I found that unidentified feeling really rubbing me … and then I realized with a shock what it was. I was surprised by cynicism. Actually a very deep rooted cynicism. Something I was totally unprepared for, and unaware of how much I had.

cyn·i·cism(sĭn’ĭ-sĭz’əm)-n- An attitude of scornful or jaded negativity, especially a general distrust of the integrity or professed motives of others:

And how was it expressed? Thank heavens only mentally. I think I realized it before it became expressed either in body language or verbally. My inner reaction was one of very high mistrust of the integrity of him and his motives.

A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin.
–H. L. Mencken (1880 – 1956)

And now – “the rest of the story ~

At one point, I was asked to house/dog sit for D&D. It was going to be a simple weekend – in on Friday – back home on Sunday. On Saturday evening, D&D were expected to be at a contest that a mutual friend was entering. I was more than willing to go and would be back for the dogs within about 2 1/2 hours.

In the middle of the afternoon chaos struck. (this IS a story about D&D after all!) The person who was entering the contest was being pulled in about five directions for rides to the contest and a couple of other places. This was not a problem – however, Toby was riding with him. So, he dropped Toby off at D&D‘s for about 45 minutes. All the people were delivered, I had a delightful time at the contest. Our friend didn’t win, but wasn’t too upset about it either. The weekend came to an end (and yes, there was a problem with the puppies – it only took a couple of hours to clean-up ~ they do belong to D&D after all.)

As I was driven home by D1, I explained what had happened and everything seemed to be fine. Alas, it was not going to be. On my part – I made the assumption 1) that D1 had discussed it with D2 and 2) that everything was fine.

Several weeks (!) later I received a very boozy phone call from D2 that literally started off with “I know what you did.” My response was an ever so polite “What?” “I know what you did and I have a few things to say about that.” Again, my response was an ever so polite “What the ______ (insert any word you want here) are you talking about?”

“I know that Toby was here and I want you to know that” (here is it) “those kind of people stand on the porch and if they have to poop or pee – oh well, that’s where they do it.”

—tomorrow the final chapter of my friendship with D&D.

The Ass In Assumptions (one) ~ Early Morning Thoughts

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Assumption comes from the Latin ad + sumere, and has the meaning of “to take something for granted,” “to suppose that it is true.” Assumptions typically take for granted that something or other is a fact, the way things really are. The thing that makes assumptions difficult to deal with is that they largely occur at the unconscious level.

For example: Why should anyone study? One ponderous answer might be, “Knowledge is better than ignorance, or, It is more important to acquire learning than it is to know nothing. “
And a voice says: “That’s certainly obvious.” I wish it were, but it is not. Identifying assumptions is never obvious. Assumptions are not learned in school and then promptly forgotten — like the capital of Britain , or the Einstein’s famous formula. Assumptions are typically picked up from the culture in which we live. We acquired them as we acquired so much of our other knowledge from the culture, without being especially aware that we were learning it. (insert trumpet sounds around the above statement please)

Before going on, I need to add another little term to the discussion – construct. A construct is any idea that people invent in order to accomplish some particular end. (please insert more trumpet sounds here) A construct is not the same as an absolute truth. A construct is simply an idea which people–very often people with an agenda–have created.

It’s been awhile since I mentioned anything about D&D. While not a major part of my writings, what has happened over the last few weeks IS a major part of my life.

I have written about how I met Toby and some of what we have gone through in an attempt to make he and I -“us.” For a number of reasons that has undergone a change, and we are going to remain in the friends category. This is a good thing. It’s making maps match territories, making sure luggage tags are accurate and accomplishing what they need to on each of our life journey.

What is important now is to work hard at developing yourselves into truly wonderful human beings. Ultimately, the relationships you form are a reflection of your own state of life.

Going back to D&D for a bit – They both, but one of the D’s in particular have acquired a number of assumptions from the culture we live in AND (although they would be loath to admit it) the gay culture they surround themselves with. That happens no matter what the orientation…but in this case, the one D‘s assumptions have stronger influences than most. For all I know, D has some serious personal experiences that have caused some of his strong assumptions to “flower.” Re quoting from above: Assumptions typically take for granted that something or other is a fact, the way things really are. Even if they are not that way.

D had placed Toby in a category based on his assumptions…even though the assumptions had little basis in fact. It started the night he told me that I “had more patience that he did what
“those’ kind of people.” Now, “those kind of people” is a phrase that has always had the effect on me that fingernails on a blackboard have. And usually my reaction to each is about the same. Being a product of the 60’s and 70’s albeit not directly in the South (except for one VERY long year) – I am extremely aware of just how that phase was said and used.

I never expected anyone I was deep friends with (and who knew anything at all about me) would ever show serious bigoted assumptions or anti-people assumptions at anytime. As time marched/moved/tip-toed on with Toby and me, there were other remarks that were made showing a lack of understanding.

Toby could come across negatively IF (again – IF) no one asked questions. I had no problem looking him in the eye (which is a little difficult as he is several inches taller!) and asking what I needed to know. Was there a possibility of untruth? Yes, but as I learned with children (all three of them!) truth WILL out…all you have to do is listen for it.


AS D&D would not listen let alone ask, their reactions became more and more pronounced – to me and toward Toby. I was walking a fine line that was no longer a balancing act but a high wire act without a net.

— more tomorrow

Jesse ~ The End Of A Journey …

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You won’t see it on the news…or read it in the paper. I wish I could put up a billboard to express all that I am feeling this morning.

From Two Lucky ….


“I love you.”

Jesse died this morning at 1.30am at the Beth Israel Medical Center in New York.

He was with me, and his mother, and died peacefully in his sleep.

Jesse has been battling melanoma for the last three years. He was a real fighter. Even at the end, he didn’t want to go home, and instead asked the doctors if he could stay a few more days to get well.

Love kept Jesse going for as long as it could. In these short years, we made the best of it. The more virulent the cancer spread, the stronger we loved.

His last words were: “I love you,” and he blew me two kisses before falling asleep.

Our love was extraordinary in the face of adversity. He is my hero, and will always be loved.

Two funerals are being planned. The first, a graveside service, will be held in Lovettsville, Va, next Thursday, where he was born.

The second, a memorial service in New York, will be held shortly after.

Details of services to come.

Jesse – I Begin To Say Farewell ~ Late Night Thoughts

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I have been writing about and following “Two Lucky (people)” for some time now. During that time, I have been blessed to learn about Yen and Jesse and their incredible love for each other. It’s a love that has been through a lot … but as I have said before – it’s a love that totally demonstrates the power of love as a choice. It also is a love that demonstrates the vows that are so often said at weddings – for richer or poorer, for better or worse, in sickness or in health …

Those short phrases, packed with meaning. Those short phrases packed with truth.

Through everything that’s been going on they both has believed, hoped and trusted. But through it all their love has never wavered.

Jesse had been taking treatments – some of which were quite toxic, but even those had to come to an end.

His prognosis, simply, is that the tumors in Jesse’s liver are growing too quickly.

“You’re carrying too much disease. Must be 10lbs in there,” he said.

But even through the sorrow of that moment, the hope/love shone through.

I cried hard today in the town car on the way back from the hospital. It did not last long, probably for less than a minute. The tears stopped as suddenly as they had come. It happened soon after we got into the car, when Jesse took my hand and said to me: “I am so happy to be with you.”

And I can admit that I wept as well. I didn’t have someone to hold my hand and tell me anything. But eventually, I went back to what had been written – and dried my tears and continued.

Yen himself began to realize what seemed to be coming. He was walking down the street and saw a film crew working on a new movie.

“As the crowd grew, I walked away. I thought about Jesse. Thereupon, I wondered if one day later this year, or the next, I would find myself in a darkened cinema, waiting for the same scene to come on, with my hand on the empty seat next to mine.

And then on the 29th of April … the doctor brought those vows full circle:

…For better or worse, For richer or poorer,
In sickness AND in health:
‘Till death do us part …

“I was told today that Jesse has only three to four more weeks left to live. When the doctors pulled me aside (”May I speak with you in private?”), I already knew….

My reaction was visceral, in spite of fore-knowledge, and unexpected in that regard. I sat in the toilet and cried. For the first time, in a very long time, I believed I would not be whole again. I felt my insides wrenched from me. I howled. I was also confused, which only proves how one, notwithstanding one’s intelligence, can reject logic in the face of grief.

Even though I already knew the answer, I kept asking myself: Can this really be true?

The last several days as I took time to look at all I have known about Yen and Jesse – and all I have been blessed to have shared of their lives, I realized that the depth of their love as shown in the writings has, in a sense, prepared me for whatever may happen in their lives.

On the 30th of April – Yen wrote “White Flag”:

He sits at the top of the stairs, so still he might have been there forever and for always.

The air is capricious, however, taunting him with whispers of dead men’s philosophy. His eyes turn down, and he feels the weight of mortality from under his feet. Around him, the hallway seems equally frozen, as if a breathing picture, a fixed fragment of time fallen into itself.

All of this is nevertheless an illusion, a vision he sees where time has forgotten its relevance.

In fact, he doesn’t remember beyond the stairs. The breaths he takes are the same he exhaled only moments before. In the dark, he begins to stale.

But moments later, a gust of wind from below erases this vision. It rises like a clean breeze from under him, and from it, he rediscovers the certainty of movement. He lifts his eyes, and looks around, then, begins to make out a hill in the distance.

The force of its existence strikes him awkwardly, unexpectedly.

He decides the hill must have been there always, as he has. He hunts the horizon for more shapes: a river, trees, but finds nothing, until in a final instant, he sees a bird tracing a wide circle near the hill top.

The trajectory of the bird’s flight, like a cut flag, fills his memory of the sky. The bird descends, then disappears into the hill’s shadow. For a moment, he forgets he is sitting on the stairs. The simultaneity of its movement, with the swelling of his heart, leads him to cry.

And again I weep. Again, I grieve. But again, I stand with them in this time – and I say – “I do not care if someone is gay-straight, black-white, moon-man or whatever, this kind of love is so deep and powerful, I maintain that great portions of the universe bow in honor of its strength.”

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;

We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, be passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.


Since then ’tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.
–Emily Dickinson

Even More Amore ~ Early Morning Thoughts

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I’ve been reading and following Two Lucky People for some time. Yen and Jesse are two amazing people deeply in love. Jesse has an aggressive form of Melanoma. While this kind of illness could tear many couples apart … they seem to be stronger than when I first met them through Yen’s writing.

Here’s some of what I’ve written –

Two People In Love ~ True Love

Further News About Jesse ~

Encouraging Valentine’s News ~

A Welcome Bit Of News – Yen, Jesse ~

A Love With So Much More ~

Emotional Bill Of Rights ~

“I’m so happy to be with you.” ~

Over and over, I’ve commented on the depth of their love and the strength that flows in their commitment to each other and to the life they are living.
Almost all the postings have been by Yen, but late in February Jesse treated us with a post of his own. The wonderful statement at the end was simple but with amazing depth. Jesse wrote: “He’s such an amazing person that I wish everyone of you could meet him in person. I’m so proud to have him as my boyfriend.”

On the 26th we were again treated to a second post from Jesse. From his hysterically funny description of trash TV (“…trannies tear at each others’ wigs on Jerry Springer”), the forty-five minuted trek to the hospital, ending with his description of what it feels like when he finally makes it home (“By the time I make it to the door, I feel like I’ve been beaten half-dead by a very heavy stick.”)When he does make it home, he’s met with an outward expression of an inward choice Yen has made to be in love.

While I’ve been gone, Yen’s been busy transforming the apartment into a five-star resort.

When I step into the room, I smell faint jasmine. Incense is burning on the window-sill. I hear calm, musical voices in the background. There are fresh rainbow-colored tulips on the coffee table. A plate of cool celery and keen carrots.
What? A tall, icy drink of pina colada? (Virgin, my Yenny smiles.)

What Yen does to this place sets my soul at ease. I am now ready to take a nice, long afternoon nap. This apartment, this home, it’s my castle of comfort, my paradise.

As I said in an earlier post (and with what’s been going on my life recently, I believe it even more): “I do not care if someone is gay-straight, black-white, moon-man or whatever, this kind of love is so deep and powerful, I maintain that great portions of the universe bow in honor of its strength.”

And once again, I maintain they are living the vow/promise of … “for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness AND in health…”

It was wonderful to read the post from Jesse – and it reaffirmed what I believed – together they are a potent force – for healing, togetherness and love.


And as I climb into bed this morning, I once again will say to the listening universe, “I want a love that will be like that – the kind that Jesse and Yen share. The choice that no matter what, I will love and care.” I’ll say it quietly, but I have no doubt it will be heard…