Mentors, as care givers, are impossible to love. Cannot become lovers sexually or be married to covenantal. Marriage being an institution unto itself; the rewards are different and have consequences destructive to transparent honesty.
I found myself at the threshold of another conviction apprehending that for whatever life is left to me I would/will be by choice: celibate. Not unusual for one who has been a failure at all previous attempts to be either married or just fooling around.
After posting my previous entry I called the trusted one and expressed my gratitude. She is also near death as I and M are. Time becomes precious as we age and realize that it is more valuable than money, acclaim, or having some one to respond to our love 24/7/365 physically present and accounted for.
When CG Jung spoke of wisdom inevitable as we age, I now think he was using complex ideal words to say: "Don't sweat the small stuff!"
From the get-go M has never been a simple question to me. As boy and man I've always, until now, fallen over my feet -- calling myself: Lurch! -- whenever I felt gratitude for a friend: man or woman. The male mentor, a dear friend from long ago when first I began this journey, is not a problem. Women are!
Through the process of writing I have become more intimate with myself. I love and like what I've found out about me discovered by keeping a personal journal. I and It is not for sale. I believe and have faith in it providential. Thus does not belong to me but instead is for whoever succeeds me; the next generation for example.
I have many envisioning's about what will happen to my soul/self after death. But when confronted with loving people, as my three mentors obviously do. I am mum. When we die, joining the democracy of the dead, we do so alone. I know by faith and reading the words, as prayers, or otherwise, other authors and their similar ideation. Bereft of ego concerns.
I live in the "Borderlands" next to Mexico; another sovereign country. Where most Americans think I live in a newer version: New Mexico--part of the United States of America. Most of my neighbors speak "Spanglish" and I have learned from them to say; thank you, hello, goodbye, etc. in their language.
Throughout the afternoon I heard the voices of children, a rarity here since the community is dedicated to the elderly. Some are fully mobile, others rely upon the municipal bus system: door-to-door or via routes and bus stops. Others are carried in by their children and left alone to die. Others, more often, are carried away in Emergency Vehicles; some return, others do not.
He was a quiet man who shuffled in old age, older and less vigorous than I, past my front windows going and coming. I would look out for and after him whenever he was gone for more than a day. His family removed all his belongings this afternoon, his grandson telling me in perfect English that he was looking forward to living full time with his grand dad. I will continue to pray for him yet no longer concerned that he is dead or alive.
When you pray answers are given. Not always what you want, just what you need. I am happily alone with Annie and my Lucky Bamboo plants. Life goes on with or without me. For some people the glass is always half empty and they seem to fear it will be too soon empty. For me, however, the glass is half full and always enough for my thirst.
120930 15:22 love - to have and give ( Old men alone )
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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