What an interesting synchronicity that within two weeks, two major sources of male energy seem to have fled from this being called mickeypamo.
One, is a former lover of decades ago . . . when I was about 19, 20, and he was about 35. As professional ballet dancers, we performed and toured together with a dance company in New York City c. 1971 to 1973. A connection spanning some 38 years. We managed to connect somehow online a couple of years ago. Yet, the past few days, I’ve been thinking “that’s the last I’ll hear of him,” as I imagine him running to the hills . . . because of mistaken semantics.
And if he asked me, I would tell him that “the love of a 20-year-old is different from that of a 58-year-old Buddhist woman. Love at 20 is not love, but only egotistical grasping for self-pleasure (and of course, many other things). Love for this Buddhist woman is in the growing desire for the other’s Happiness.” That’s what I would say.
The other, an intense and driven author in Topanga Canyon, in all his Ariesian ways, came in like a blast on the web, into my life, like a devourer, saying, saying, saying some of our recent and quite incredible synchronicities occurring between us like magic, which was and is and will be absolutely so. Yet, the arrogance of my pressing myself too hard as a teacher . . . then, one teaching too many, and he was gone. Also in a semantics-like way. Such as the difference between multi-tasking and giving your presence to someone %100.
In both these cases, I have spoken my truth in my language, which is not anyone else’s responsibility to learn. I guess I’m not in a monastery.
