Fiendish Jones and the Need for Permission

Earlier this morning I was just feeding my Frenchie Rufus and doing some cleaning and rearranging in the kitchen when (to me) a profound and probably obvious thought occurred to me. 

I've been operating in my new apartment space with a sort of unconscious need for permission from some nebulous "persona" out there. Even something as simple as where I'm putting the toaster on the countertop became a battle for permission. What if "someone" doesn't like it there? What if they don't approve of my choice of toaster color? What if they criticize my choices?! And on and on it went.

In the moment where I realized fully what I was doing to myself a name came to me as if someone opened my head and plopped it right into my brain. Fiendish Jones. He's basically Snidely Whiplash (for those of you not old enough to remember the cartoon Dudley Do-Right of the Mounties Snidely was Dudley's arch nemesis.) He's the voice that lurks just out of range of my consciousness that criticizes every decision I make. He has a top hat and cape and a long mustache that he twirls as he laughs manically at mentally cornering me yet again. I've constantly found myself asking his permission for just about everything I do.

I didn't even realize until this morning I was operating under this kind of imaginary criticism. Now that I know this, now that I've moved from ignorance to knowledge, from knowing to embracing, I understand that I don't need to seek or be that needy for permission about anything.

What a revelation.

The Freedom From Stuff

I woke up around 3 this morning. Lying in bed I had a nice thought occur to me, “The more you know yourself the less you need.” Specifically I was thinking of this in terms of "stuff," but it can apply to almost anything, emotional neediness, fear of being by one’s self, etc.

Telling this to my friend Dan his reply was perfect. "True. The path winds inward." Indeed. 

Respect

I attended a combination housewarming and birthday party for my French Bulldog Rufus last night (he just turned 5!) It was a marvelous time with dear friends who haven't seen each other in at least a year, some longer, due to COVID. The feeling in the room was one of a collective exhale. Everyone was thrilled to be there and be in each other's presence once again. Riding that wave of frivolity and gratitude for friends and extended family I had a lovely raspberry edible and drank at least two beers too many.

I didn't wake up hung over. At my age that kind of "contact sport" drinking is best left to the younger folks. I enjoy my adult beverages as much as the next responsible adult and I'm always conscious of my limit. I'm also very much a dedicated gym enthusiast and nothing interrupts my workout schedule. So this morning I was there when they opened at 8am just like every other Sunday.

As many know, I've spent the last several years on a self-discovery quest, both with a therapist and of my own efforts (reading books on Buddhism and mindfulness, meditating, paying attention to dreams, etc, etc.) So this morning at the gym the one thought that kept running in my head was "respect." Maybe others have this ability too, but I'm very conscious of my body and it's components. They all feel to me like individuals who are working together for a common goal. This morning I was very conscious of my liver and my kidneys. And this is where the respect comes in. Did I respect them by my behavior last night? Probably not. I personify them and think things like my liver is saying, "WHOA! Here comes MORE alcohol?!" And every time I went to the bathroom I imagined my kidneys saying, "Damn. MORE fluid to get rid of?! What the hell is this guy trying to do to us?!"

Now is this actually true? Of course not. But it gives me a way to keep the notion of respecting my body in the forefront of my thinking. The respect for my body extends also to the kinds of foods I eat. I'm very an "as natural as possible" kind of food purchaser. My refrigerator is full of fresh fruits and vegetables. I eat chicken and seafood mostly and try to keep my beef to a minimum, and I try to balance my meals with more vegetables than anything (Broccoli is my FAVORITE!) As I'm eating I practice what is called "mindful eating." I thought only I knew about mindful eating then discovered it's an actual thing! As I'm eating I imagine all the digestive elements swinging into action to help my body. My chewing and saliva rallying to break that food down. My esophagus muscles helping to move it all down to my stomach. My stomach saying things like, "Ooooo! Asparagus! We LOVE asparagus!" My intestines thanking all the components before it helping to deliver nutrients that can be distributed out through my body. And my body picking up those nutrients and saying, "Here you go guys! Let's put this stuff to good use!"

It all fits into the notion of respect. When I do these things I feel like all the components of my body are thanking me and encouraging me to continue respecting them. It brings me a very pleasant serenity that lasts the entire day.

Fork in the Road

I'm at an interesting fork in the road here lately. I've become more keenly aware of old thinking being replaced by new, older age mentalities. What once seemed of paramount importance to me and the center of my dynamic is being replaced by something more gentle and serene.

As an example, men and sex. I see men at my gym that are simply beautiful. Some I could easily categorize as stunning. I'm becoming more aware of the sense that it's more rewarding to look and admire than to have. The simple, unfiltered beauty of them to me is like admiring a beautiful tree or sunset. I don't necessarily think about fucking them. In my maturing mind I somehow think it would tarnish the view if all there was about them was just another sexual conquest. As gay men (and maybe straight men, too?) we have this "fuck and conquer" mentality. We don't steal paintings we consider masterpieces. So why this need to fuck EVERY beautiful man you see? Sit back and enjoy the view. Relish in the ability to be aware enough to know this.

And that is the fork-in-the-road mentality I'm at. One direction is all about the conquest, more notches in the bedpost. And the other is the joy I get from knowing I'm an aware enough person to realize it.

More notches in the bedpost don't necessarily make for a very fulfilling life. It just makes for a weaker bed frame.

Insecurity

I have no time for insecure people. We all have some insecurity about one thing or another. When insecurity is a person's motivator for practically everything in their life, however, and they use it as a way to manipulate others, I get exhausted trying to get my tolerance around that and so I just don't. Life's too short for that.