Feet of Clay

Writing tricks.

I fully admit it. I employed one last time: the ambiguous "you."

It was with good reason: a shared experience that broke down walls of personal identity and blurred some lines for a bit. The blurring of the lines continued over the weekend... becoming blurrier still, despite my best vocal attempts at stating clear definitions.

"This will be all that there is of this... momentary... memory... frozen and untouched... preserved for all time... under glass."

I made those statements and idealist that I am, I actually could stick to them if I really wanted it that way. I did want it that way. But... I wasn't expecting what would follow.

"I know what I want... something real. You're not real... well, of course you're real, but you're not here... you're not where I am... physically or mentally. I see myself in you."

He is a bit lost, though he doesn't seem to admit it publicly, as his persona is that of adventurer.

But then again, I'm still lost as well, despite the title of my film... of course, that's employing another writing trick: irony. It's funny to me that my film, with the very title of FOUND would become our first common denominator.

Before any of you begin to think that I'm writing about some typical "budding relationship" stories, I hope that you might consider along with me that sometimes things defy category. This is one of those things. Because I can't seem to put this into a neat fit within my brain or my life, I need to write it out here and analyze it from another angle.

I've hesitated for a bit though... wondering if I'd be destroying the "aura" of this somehow... wondering if I'd be altering the memory of it or allowing a crack in the preservational glass. I probably am, but then again, so is he.

This defies category because although I wanted to make this a momentary and beautiful fling, of sorts, it can't be that when you continue to relate to a person with any frequency.

He's cracking that glass... he's expanding this into other territories.

creation, see: collaboration...
collaboration, see: attraction...
attraction, see: fornication...
fornication, see: adoration...
adoration, see: relation...
relation, see: occupation...
occupation, see: creation...
creation, see: collaboration...
collaboration, see: communication...
communication, see: attraction...

Be careful what you wish for... you might get it ad infinitum.

I've openly said here in this public forum that I'd chosen celibacy for a while... 14 months of it, to be exact... though many found that hard to conceive. And whenever it was suggested to me by friends that I consider taking someone new into my life for something more than friendship, I've rebuffed with, "Does he have a job for me? Because that is ALL that I'm interested in at this point in my life."

Then two months back, I met a couple who made me want to unlock their secrets of their success... perfectly balanced, she brought one set of strengths, he the other, together they seemed cut from the same cloth... and they'd been together for almost a score of years. I openly wondered what it might be like to be in a true partnership, where two people collaborate as well as are mutually attracted to one another with an exquisitely natural and mutual force.

Just two weeks later, I wander into an art gallery, get zapped by one of those "ga-zing!" moments where it feels as if a static discharge has occurred when my eyes met a man working there, try to shake it off and walk away, yet somehow wind up getting pulled back into conversation with the positive ion creator, who then finds out in a matter of minutes that I'm a film editor and just so happens to have been looking for one for a while, gets all of my information to stay in contact with me, and things just snowball from there.

A few days later, we meet to discuss his film projects before he heads out on one of his many adventures and he employs me on the spot, imparting to me a score of videotapes of his previous adventures to be converted to easier files, plus talk of bigger, grander filmic plans for me.

Okay, breathe. This I can handle, I think, though initially I was a bit caught off guard by the volume and the instant trust he had in me. Still, something kept me feeling drawn to him. I tried to shake that feeling off by telling myself that his enthusiasm and exuberance towards me are simply due to his excitement over finding someone well suited to his creative needs. I can handle that, I think.

He went away on his travels for a couple weeks and that was good for me... stasis returned. But that calm security was short lived and not without interruptions... envelopes from his travels. When he returned, we spent more time together and pure ease and sweetness of those days had left their mark on both of us. I thought I was okay, because I managed to drop him off again for another indefinite time period and return to that calm stasis again... except, he had a confession to make before he left town. The growing feelings were too difficult to dismiss, so he called to tell me of his thoughts and I admitted my own. From there, the turbulant tidal wave broke through, so to speak.

Next thing I knew, he was planning extra days to be around me on his next trip... a hotel room followed shortly by 2 more nights/days of "rest" in my world. I partook of all of the beauty and passion and exquisite bliss with no thoughts of a beyond. I can handle this, I think. It's got parentheses around it.

What I wasn't expecting is what happens when you don't put a period at the end of that parenthetical sentence. I want more of this... but initially saw this as a re-confirmation of what I really want for the future... a way to recognize it again when it comes into my life for real. What I wasn't expecting is that he'd want more too... yes, his eyes can't hide what he's thinking, but he promises to respect my wishes of keeping this under glass... that part is difficult enough to think about if there should be future friendly meetings. But what I wasn't prepared for... what I hadn't planned on... was that he still wants a "more" that would keep him close, rather than at a distance.

Collaboration.

And the more he learns of my talents, the more he realizes that he's found someone to help so many of his ideas come to fruition. This brings me pause, because this is all with the little amout of time we've spent together, but if we work together on these projects, that will inspire more creation and more collaboration... and with that, the likelihood of more pro-creation.

The glass shatters.

Sure, I could try to keep it under wraps... squelch the urges somehow. Or on the other hand, I'm sure I could just go with the feelings as they arise and bask in the exquisiteness each time there is opportunity, with no real meaning beyond the moment each time. But does that complicate the working relations? It might.

Should I reject the collaboration right now and stop the cycle... all in an effort to keep this in a neat and tidy box? I'm torn. I like his ideas. He likes mine. Together those ideas could merge into something even grander than they could alone.

And he pushes me too... something that all of my friends say I need... I agree, though I'm still reticent... mainly because I can't tell if this person is going to disappear or not yet. But he keeps trying to put me more and more in charge of elements of his life... something I wondered aloud if it was his way of keeping people in his life that he really doesn't want to let slip away so easily... a way to try to keep himself a little bit grounded... giving him reason to return to a place where he feels comfortable... himself.

It's a difficult choice when you meet someone who engages all parts of your body and your mind. Yet to me, he still isn't quite real. That's the thing that feels a bit bitter sweet, because I so enjoy his company... but the question... the risk... the choice remains: is it better to jump in and discover all the paths of the experience; or is it better to leave some stones unturned?

I have friendships now with a handful of men with whom I've gone down paths... some were longer paths than others... but they have softened and deepened into something so enriching to my life. Me... the confirmed hermit. Still a hermit... still very independent... too independent to have too much faith in anyone... yet wondering, glimpsing occasionally, what it might be like to be part of a ship.

My first instinct is to push away and hole up... shun more experience... pare down my life to a few managable responsibilities and stay safe inside my shell. But one really can't grow inside a shell... you have to venture out and explore.

All of this also comes at a time when I'm considering abandoning my career goals and trying a totally different life path. Goodbye to editing... but hello to what? I don't know. The other thing is that I'd been for months now seriously researching a big move. At first it was the thought, "Should I prepare to move to the West Coast to find work?" But then it became, "Should I move to another country entirely to find... life?" The latter didn't seem too far from reality. I find the idea of New Zealand very appealing. Very appealing.

I need something, obviously. I've been stuck in this shell for too long now with no challenges other than searching for work in a land where there is a serious lack of opportunity. I need something that offers variation... innovation... stimulation... organization... improvisation... hell, even conflagration, to burn away the debris and force me out of this hermitude.

No, I'm not looking for an arsonist... I'm being metaphorical.

I guess I couldn't stay Robinson Crusoe forever.

Damn these clay feet.

Do something!

I choose...

more time...

to wait...

and...

to see.

Dream Lover Revisited

Still.

You think to yourself.

You wonder how identity is formed.

A moment comes... everything changes.

Your eyes meet and... electricity.

It shocks you from your slumber and makes you wonder what has come over you. It fills your head with thoughts that have long been dormant. And whatever "it" is, the electricity is palpable to others too. When you share thoughts together, time melts... suspends... transcends.

You start to think of a reason not to meet again... to get out of it... to cancel plans... to avoid change... and maintain an even keel.

When you hold onto a goal so long that it becomes your identity, it's scary to let go and become something else. You want to fight urges and protect that identity... the one you've been publicly and privately intimate with for so long now... so long now that it's begun to fit like a second skin. Excuses come up first... ways to resist... to avoid... temptation.

But then, just as the moment when you think you've come to the best rationalization and excuse there could be to avoid the inevitable... the phone rings.

A voice... just... a voice... and that's all it takes to make you abandon the pretense. It becomes easy to go... too difficult to stay.

The second meeting... electric again... and this time with a gleeful zest to it. You feel as if you're meeting someone you've known forever, but with the excitment of beginning something very new. No contact... well, friendly contact... hugs... first one was big as a greeting... and three more in departing... bigger each time. The embraces recharge you... and you feel your barriers between you crumbling just a little more with each one.

The eye contact was more dangerous though... must... avoid... looking... into... eyes... look at that spark... did I just see a thought in that spark? Look away... look anywhere... look... at... the lips... as they move... the shape of each letter... the fullness... were you staring just now? That has to stop. Why are you smiling still? An hour later and you're still smiling.

Time goes by. Much better. No challenge to the stasis. It's quiet. Then a missive... an envelope... tangible... hands have touched this... thought of you and wanted to share it with you. You can't bring yourself to open it. Too dangerous. Too confusing. You leave it sit in front of you every day. Unopened.

Another arrives... filled with more thoughts... more reminders of... those stirrings. You peak inside this one. The feeling comes over you that you need to squelch again. Each element pushes another pin in that lock cylinder you thought was so secure.

Communication comes again... real time thoughts are shared. You enjoy it. You welcome it. A little too much. You shake yourself back to your stance and announce your intentions of remaining steadfast to your resolve. But rather than being met with disheartenment, you are greeted with respect and understanding... and better yet... continued communication.

You meet again. All day, but it might as well have been an hour as the rest of the world dissolved. You spend the day looking elsewhere... but always returning to those eyes... those lips. Did you stare again? Did it go unnoticed?

You think it's time to part and return to the safety of your corner again... you with a sigh of relief having passed the test of the hours... until another friendly embrace... and ... you feel... lips... those lips... the ones you'd watched form syllables... coming to rest on the most sensitive part of you neck. The sigh of relief turns into breath lost as you feel yourself melt and several more pins are pushed aside in the chamber.

You leave smiling... for hours this time... hours and hours. But you're still safe... you left... and your precious sense of self is still safe. Or is it?

Another meeting is suggested the next day. You jump for it... feeling surprised at your own enthusiasm after spending all night awake when exhaustion should be taking over instead. And just as immediately as your energy returns, the clouds of that morning disappear... replaced by the most glorious day ever. Is Nature smiling too?

Stop making metaphors... only lovers make metaphors... you're a solo artist.

A walk in the park and conversation on a swing by a lake heighten these growing urges of yours... spinning metaphors the likes of which you could never come up with on your own. You can't look... those eyes... those lips... but you do look... and you look again... and you both smile.

This moment seems like a memory already... idealized and perfected, with all the uneventful stuff removed. But it's not edited... it's real... and it plays like a lucid dream.

You embrace for the last time as friends and something happens... a kiss... a short, friendly kiss... but it is charged with more sexuality and energy than any that last a hundred times longer.

Did that just happen? Did you make that happen? Has the last pin been pushed away and your secret self revealed? Whatever the cause, the knight awoke the sleeping beauty.

When the call comes later that night, there is seriousness in the tone. A confession comes about growing feelings... you sigh and melt and confess your own... and suddenly your goals and identities begin to merge. There is relief... though momentary... as another urgency begins to build.

Soon... another meeting is planned... almost not soon enough. You can think of nothing else but this coming moment through the nine days that pass. This one involves a neutral, private setting... an oasis. You say yes without hesitation... whoever you are now is speaking for you and the response is effortless. Everything is rolling to a boil. Areas of your brain that you hadn't used in over a year are now suddenly the ones that are getting the most use. You can't turn them off. You don't want to turn them off. You want to see where this goes.

Meeting... the meeting... the culmination of all those pins getting clicked inside an almost impenetrable lock and finally releasing for the first time ever.

The kiss... the real kiss... the real kiss as this new you. You spot a reflection of yourself in those eyes... those eyes that you couldn't let yourself look at too deeply before... those eyes that you can't stop yourself from looking at now. Your brain loses functioning and things seem a little tilted and a little bit brighter... new eyes will need to adjust to that.

This time, giving yourself permission to look... to really look... you see so much more that you forced yourself not to see before. Are those gray hairs at the temples? They are. Are there some on the chest as well? There are! Do those brown eyes have as much green in them as your green eyes have brown? They do. And you look deeply now. And those lips........ those lips........... those................. lips.

What does 16 hours of bliss feel like? Time slips. So many sensations... so many new... so many familiar. A perfect fit... nothing missing... everything just right. Appetites are sated... but there's always room for more... and more.

What does 16 hours of bliss feel like? Time drips. Like idealized memories with the boring parts removed. Again.

Curving... undulating... slipping... solid... fluid... twist... pulse... supple... suckle... breathe... deeply... breathe... quickly... slowly... whisper... exhale... glowing... beaming... smile.

You can't possibly edit something when every single second seems to be significant somehow... like something you will remember when you're too old to remember anything else... and they'll still make you smile. You could replay the events and lose a whole day smiling.

Could this all be illusion? Do our minds play tricks? You've had glimpses of these moments before in others... but they were singular mostly... one from here... another from there. And all of those are happening now all in one moment. You are in awe of the moment and of every detail. It transcends all.

And yet... it could disappear when identity creeps in... but identity is not reality.

Perception is such a fluid thing, and yet sometimes it feels solid and real. Of course, wasn't it just days ago that you thought you were someone else? And a matter of some years ago you thought you were someone else still. When you are truly in the moment, everything is significant. And if life could be filled with nothing but significant moments, you are certain that mountains could be moved... everything changes, even perception.

The moment... in it completely. When that moment takes you, do you go with it? Certainly. Can you hold that moment? Indefinitely. How does a moment become so significant that it changes your identity? Exponentially. You know it happens, but it doesn't happen without something you add to it. Perception.

Everything remains fluid and so now you float... confident in knowing the moment will return again. And again. Confident in knowing the moment has already changed all future moments and has become part of your story... your identity... you.

Step lightly now and let it take you.

Life.