Old Friends

Story Number 1:

Got a text from my friend Phil Friday night. 

We stay in pretty constant contact. Sometimes texting 2 or 3 times a week, sometimes not for weeks, but fairly regularly, 

He lives in Massachusetts from May to December, Florida from late December to mid-May. So May to December is the sweet spot - that is when we can actually see each other. We don't get together as often as we'd like to but at least we do get together. I have a feeling we are going to do a lot more this year - Covid and cancer are great motivators.

In fact......................plans are afoot for us to visit Nasville in the fall. Just the boys. Pretty psyched about that. 

I enjoy the night texts the best.

Phil enjoys his wine and, as the night ages, he switches to premium bourbon. He typically texts me around 10 or 11. I am usually sipping on premium whiskey by then. We tend to be more open emotionally with each other, and more insane under those conditions.

His text read: "How's my buddy doing? Miss you, bro. Hope you're well." Those words went straight to my heart. His deep concern for me has forced me to understand that I underestimated the power of our friendship. Which is saying a lot because I have deep appreciation for our friendship.

Story Number 2:

Had a long phone conversation yesterday with another old friend of mine - Steve W. I have known Steve for something like 10 or 12 years. I am not exactly sure of the time frame, but then again I am not exactly sure what I had for breakfast 30 minutes ago either.

He and I were two fifths of an insane crew that worked together in a NH state liquor store back in the day. The job sucked but we were five insane guys who spent a lot of time laughing. A LOT. And we just didn't give a shit. We were famously irreverent.

We don't talk often. Steve lives in Florida now so I never get to see him.

He reads my blog so he contacted me to see how I am doing with this annoying cancer bullshit. We ended up enjoying a long conversation covering every topic under the sun. Honest conversation, lots of laughter.

I live for that.

At the end of the call we told each other we love each other. I don't think we ever did that before. Again, I could be wrong, who the hell knows.

His words went straight to my heart.

Ridiculous Fact About Me:

Phil's text and Steve's words brought tears to my eyes. Because in my heart I don't feel worthy of their respect and their love. It is a twisted truth of my nature, but I have always felt this way in general. Every time somebody shows me their love I feel unworthy.

Now, my brain is coming around - I am worthy of their respect and love, as they are of mine. I know this intellectually. I know it for a fact. But the inferiority bullshit is so deeply ingrained in my heart that my immediate reaction is a sense of surpirse that someone could care so much about me.

So for now, as long as I listen to my brain and not my heart I will be ok. When my heart catches up with my brain I will be able to handle situations like this as a normal person would.

The real point of all this is that I am so lucky to have friends like this in my life. They are not family - they are not obligated to give a shit about me, but they do.

They make me feel good, they make me feel better.

And I will take a little credit for these friendships, that are rock solid.

Much like George Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life, I am slowly waking up to the fact that my life has actually impacted other peoples' lives. 

I am in their lives, they are in mine.

Period. End of story.

Not Even Snow...............

Not even snow can ruin my Saturday morning glow.

Rolled out of bed yesterday morning to my Eventual Destination of Peace.

The usual - Carol sleeping, me in the recliner, cup of coffee, book, Maka. It was snowing. I looked out at the snow passively. I was at peace.

My life has settled into two warring factions for now - The Job and My Life.

I just can't handle the job. It pisses me off. I try to silently chant either of two mantras that I rely on for calm when I get angry or stressed, but these words in my head -  "Kill that son of a bitch" -  override the good intent of the mantra.

But when Saturday morning rolls around the sense of peace is enormous. And the contrast between Job Anger and Life Peace has been amplified by all the good work I am doing for my brain.

This is called progress.

Used to be, time off was not really therapeutic for me. I would stew in unhappiness and marinate in whiskey. Torture myself needlessly until it was time to go back to work for a more focused version of torture.

I had a blog entry simmering in my brain about how vacations and meditation do not "take." You know, you go off on vacation for a week, sit in the sun, sip on delectable cocktails, feast on fabulous meals and generally be a human being. But that first day back at work is instantaneous Hell.

With meditation I have found it amusing that I can take myself to a peaceful place and feel so good, but then go downstairs, open the fridge and find that Carol has placed the half and half in front of my yogurt and be immediately pissed. I assumed that meditation doesn't take.

But the more I meditate the more I find myself, in random moments, smiling in oases of peace, contentment and even.............................................HAPPINESS.

Meditation does take.

This explains how I can feel happy even when it is snowing.

Of course the fact that I am out of work for 4 and 1/2 days is a contributing factor but I know deep down that it is more than that. This is because happiness and contentment are alien emotions to me. When I randomly experience them my brain perks up and asks "What the hell is going on here?"

This has been happening more and more.

The signs are there. My battered brain is on the mend and I am helping it along.

There is hope for me yet.

My Man James Clear

I get a weekly email from James Clear that includes helpful ideas for re-wiring your life, inspirational quotes from all kinds of people, and one question meant to electro-start your brain.

One of this week's ideas:

"Clarity is the elimination of mental clutter

Agility is the elimination of physical clutter

Tranquility is the elimination of spiritual clutter"

I am working hard on all three but especially on Clarity and Tranquility.

This week's one question:

From venture capitalist and executive coach Jerry Colonna:

"How are you complicit in creating the conditions you say you don't want?"

BOOM! Holy shit, man - I can identify with that 100%. (But I am working on it).

 

Mango Tree (And More)

Just driving home from doing mundane deeds - Bob Marley pops up on Sirius - "Redemption Song."

Love the song.

"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery

  None but ourselves can free our minds"

I have heard those lines hundreds of times but today they knocked me for a loop. I drove off the road and plowed head on into a mango tree - but I kept singing.

Perspective is a victim of where your head is at at any given time. I am beginning to free myself from mental slavery and it is a powerful feeling. A positive feeling. My perspective has been skewed into uncharted waters.

My mind was highjacked by Demons and held against its will for many decades. It was inside my skull but didn't really belong to me. The mental disciplines I am practicing now are having concrete effect so I kind of don't know who the hell I am. I actually feel happy and confident from time to time. More and more frequently.

It hit me last Saturday when I was driving to the dump with a side trip planned to the grocery store. I was feeling happy and completely calm. What?

Please understand - I consider myself to be a Superior Being - someone who should never be required to do annoying chores. Used to be I would be pissed off the whole time I was out and wouldn't settle down until I got home - where I could return to hiding from life.

Just now I was out doing errands on the day before I go back to work. That violates a taboo I have adhered to for a long time. On the day before, I must stay at home and inject maximum calm into my soul. The hope is that I will carry that calm into the workplace and increase my chances of survival.

It never works but I do it anyway.

Today's errands did not ruin my day. Who knew?

So I hear Bob Marley's words - for the 800th time - and today they hit me like a shockwave, because they relate to exactly what I am doing - emancipating myself from mental slavery.

This is what I love about songs and poetry - they have the power to move you, and they can mean different things at different times. You don't read a poem just once. If it rocks you, you read it over and over again over the years, and as your life changes the meaning changes.

Songs and poetry are so much than words and music - they are magic, they are inspiration, they are emotion - they are living, breathing things.

Within half an hour  - or less - of going in to work tomorrow I will want to decapitate every customer that walks through that door. And some of my co-workers too. I will hunger to blow up my phone with Semtex. Thankfully, Wednesdays are only four hour days. Still, I typically strut in and limp out.

But then I have to do it again for two more days. Two 49 hour days.

But right now I feel supreme. Absolutely good and invincible.

And, truth be told, I carry around some meditation techniques in my head now, that I silently resort to at work that just may prevent me from being accused, tried, and convicted of 2nd degree murder (although I would consider it justifiable homicide).

Personal change, man - a complicated concept.

Who am I?

Hmmmmmmm.....................

 "The list goes on and on, but at its heart is the fact that we live largely artificial lives, filled with plentiful but insipid substitutes for the types of experiences that bring more solid and long-lasting well being."

From an interview of Dr. Charles Raison in The Sun Magazine regarding the topic of depression.

I've Got A Friend

 "If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds,

  and that old north wind begins to blow,

  keep your head together, and call my name out loud,

  soon you'll hear me knocking at your door."

From "You've Got A Friend", by Carole King

My friend Phil is my oldest friend in the world - we have been friends since the second grade. We have been very close friends for around 60 years. We are still in regular contact and get together 2 or 3 times a year.

Our relationship falls into that magic category where, no matter how big a gap there is between us seeing each other, we automatically fall back into our rhythm - no awkwardness, no bullshit. Honest conversation, easy laughter.

It is very comforting.

I was talking to him recently and told him I have prostate cancer. Gave him the whole history going back two years, which he knew nothing about, even though we have spoken many times during that period. He was pissed.

He angrily said: "You never tell me anything." I was taken aback by that, but his anger brought home to me just how valuable this friendship is.

Here's how my mind works. So many people will tell you the story of their lives at the drop of a hat. You say "Wow, what a gorgeous day it is." They say "I have prostate cancer." 

That ain't me.

I tell my family. After that the only way anybody finds out is through a random process. In other words, I told my bosses about it because the radiation will be a major disruption to my work schedule. If they mention it to co-workers and they ask me about it that's fine - I will talk about it.

But I don't volunteer the information. Someone asks me how I'm doing as a part of general conversation, I say "fine" - that's it.

That's just the way I am.

But I do feel bad about not keeping Phil posted. Learned a lesson. The man cares about me. That is a precious gift and should be protected.

I called him when I got the details about how treatment is gonna go. The next day he called me to tell me he has a friend who runs a charitable organization that donates money to cancer patients, to help them through it. Phil spoke to him, told him what Carol has been through and what I am about to go through, and the organization decided to donate $5,000 to me. Five thousand dollars.

I was blown away.

I told Phil Medicare has great coverage and we could probably handle the rest and I didn't need the money.

He told me to take the money and use it for lost work days, gas money to and from the hospital, incidentals etc.

I said I'll take it but if I don't use it I'll give it back.

He said "Take the fucking money and keep it."

We got the check 2 days later.

I am not measuring our friendship in dollars and cents. My point is that he was so upset and so worried about me that he was compelled to do something to help me out. He wanted to make my struggle easier.

I was truly humbled.

We text pretty regularly but now he always asks how I am feeling.

He cares. Deeply.

Friendship is special. You don't choose your family. I am lucky to have a magnificent family. You do choose your friends.

And if a friendship endures, it is through mutual admiration, love and respect. You don't stay in touch with someone for 60 years if they are an asshole. Friendship is an incredible thing.

I know how lucky I am. My family is magic in my life. Pure joy and fun and pride in every moment.

Phil is a special guy. Simply put - we just get along. We click. We have had so much fun together over the years. Stuff we reminisce about. Stuff we laugh about. More fun to come - we make plans all the time. Whether it's dinner or a concert or a blues club or sports. 

We are comfortable together in a way that makes life better. 

So much better.

Pure Honesty

 "In the lives of the saddest of us, there are bright days like this, when we feel as if we could take the great world in our arms and kiss it. Then come the gloomy hours, when the fire will neither burn on our hearths  nor in our hearts; and all without and within is dismal, cold and dark. Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows, which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hyperion.