Satisfactorily Single

Myself at Macchu Picchu:  Satisfyingly Single

How many middle aged people get to take off, with a couple of weeks notice, and go on an adventure?  

The look of envy I've witnessed in the telling of my adventure tale of the last few months is curious.  I think all of us retain a sense of the wonder we experienced as a child when many things were brand new to us.  I think also that we are conditioned, as a species, to move towards stability in order to best provide for the continuation of our species.  Nomadic societies are successful but you and I are not likely direct descendants of them.  Our current world is ensuring the complete extinction of any remaining nomadic societies although the final frontier (space) may create an entirely new society of space nomads in the future.

I've spent a lifetime caught up in the mating trap.  I have been heavily conditioned by both nature and nurture to believe that 'every old sock has an old shoe'.  And, if I just went fishing often enough, then I too would land my catch.  I could write a book on my dating adventures (first internet date was in 1996, yes, 1996).  I met one person for a coffee back in the late 1990s and he told me he just wanted to have a viewing of what a woman looked like that would put an ad up in a singles column.  After experiences like that you would think I would have given up but alas, the reproductive mating urge is strong so I soldiered on.

Not once in my quest did I ever stop to think that being single is a viable option.  A viable permanent option.  During periods of not actively searching I would be buoying myself up to launch yet another search for "Him".

A few years ago I came to the conclusion that perhaps I was just too wounded to be partnered and I accepted, if not embraced, that reality and ended the search.  A truism came to life shortly after that decision, I fell in love.  A marvelous love affair ensued and the ending revealed to me that yes, I may be wounded but no, I can overcome that if I wish to.  And a new decision was arrived at:  I am satisfactorily single.  I am not single because I am wounded (all of us have baggage, mine is mostly stowed away).  I am not single because I am damaged.  I am single because I cherish my independence.  I cherish my lack of commitment.  I am single because I am an explorer at heart and to change my marital status would involve relinquishing something more precious to me than even my daughter:  my independence.

I look at the frenzy surrounding The Official Day to celebrate coupledom and think bravo for you if you find fulfillment in a partnership.  I have also found fulfillment there, at times.   But the fulfillment I am experiencing as a single adventurer so greatly outweighs my former aspirations I wonder why as a society we are not offering up this choice to younger people right from the get go.  "Happily Ever After" can and should involve a solo option.

Be still my bleeding heart.

At four years of age I recall having a sense of wonderment and fulfillment when I escaped the confines of our modest home in order to explore our neighborhood. Alone.

The family story about these occasions involve me escaping my bedroom in the early mornings in order to galavant, unescorted, around my downtown Toronto 'hood (Coxwell and Danforth). One particularly notable occasion involves me using a screwdriver in order to pry open the lock my parents had put (in desperation) on my bedroom the front door. These early morning escapades must have scared the bejesus out of my parents. Not in a 2012 way though. This was 1971, in the era before mass publicized child abductions. Four year olds were accorded a lot more intelligence and street smarts back then.

I have no recollection of guile when performing these Houdini like efforts. What I recall, with pristine clarity, is the glorious feeling of freedom that I had to observe and marvel at the world around me. One particularly crystal clear memory from that time involves me staring at what I now know is a bleeding heart plant that was in a neighbour's backyard. I couldn't tell you now if I stared for a minute or an hour. A plant that grows pretty pink hearts. Kinda incredible isn't it? I still think so.

In fact, I can tell you that each and every bleeding heart plant that I have seen in the subsequent 40 years has brought a smile to my face due to the recollection of the joy and marvel I experienced as a four year old seeing it for the first time.

And now, when my heart is seemingly bleeding from the despairs and regrets that are searing through my middle age, I can turn to my four year old self and remember that I will always have the ability to view the world with marvel...as long as I 'escape' whatever is holding me back. And if I had the smarts to figure out how to do this at four years of age, I most certainly can do so at 44.

RHRN: Joyfully Disconnecting

I have become a person that gets startled regularly by moments of exquisite joy. I just had one of those moments.

And, thanks to my newly installed blogger app and wifi, I am taking a few minutes to give more airtime to this stream of consciousness from the comfort of my bedroom.

Most of my startling moments of joy do not take place in proximity to a publishing device such as the iPod I am currently writing on. I do not own a cell phone so I am frequently 'disconnected'.

In writing that last sentence I arrived at the very crux of the matter. In the culture I am immersed in I am regarded as disconnected for not having a mobile communication device that is ON AIR 24/7.

However, the very state of being disconnected allows me to be regularly startled. Not by the buzz/ beep/ringtone of a mobile though. I get startled by moments of such exquisite joy that I literally have to sometimes fight tears back when to share them would be socially awkward, These moments of joy are like pearls from the banquet of life and leave me feeling connected to every last morsel on this planet and beyond. I am humbled and often overwhelmed by these moments (ergo, tears).

I feel unprepared for these moments because it seems to me like the events and culture I am nearly constantly immersed in are so extraordinarily opposed to where and how I am experiencing joy.

Today's moment of joy, the one that prompted this impromptu broadcast, is not one that I could explain easily. In fact, I think it could take a book or a 10 part miniseries to explain how I arrived at it's zenith.

Joy has become like that for me. It is as if my life contains a near infinite supply of puzzle pieces and all of a sudden WHAM... a bunch of them slam together and create a piece of art that can literally move me to tears.

So for me, for now, I think I'll remain 'disconnected' and see if I can ever start mainlining this joy stuff. After all, it is not likely to happen if I'm constantly pixelated and not taking in the RHRN (right here right now) world.


[pic was via a friend's fb feed and was likely one of the 'puzzle pieces' that inspired this morning's moment of joy... original pic is from this wonderful collection: http://stomaster.livejournal.com/1102877.html#cutid1]