Empowerment Exercise

Jitterbug Meeting

...because I'm loveable

You Need To Read This - It Can Happen - Men Do Talk (from Blogging Buddy)

Do You Have Any Baggage to Check?

I find this the hardest writing I've ever attempted to complete. I want to tell this. I am compelled to write it. But it is damned difficult. Do I even have the language skills to tell about the lifting of the heavy velvet drapery without divulging the unnecessary minutiae of the story? I am not so sure. I shall try.

The reader should know that we became acquainted and deeply bonded in 1968. We boyfriend-girlfriended intermittently across four years. We finally walked in opposite directions and didn't know whether the other still existed for 30 years. Reconnecting at ages 50 and 53 led us to realize that there is a deep connection between us that no amount of time will erode. Events in life have caused us to assemble and reassemble what we share now. It doesn't look exactly as it once did. It is different, and some parts of it are yet undefined.

When our tapestry began to unravel, we each retreated to maladaptive coping models that were comfortable to us. The most mundane topics were discussed and resolved with a two sentence exchange. The things that mattered even slightly were not discussed at all - these left hanging like shiny decorations on an overloaded, drying Christmas tree. For one of us is terrified of simply slipping the necessary words out into the atmosphere and the other is afraid that the acrid smoke rising from the words will choke and annihilate us. We tried some traditional, well recognized means to reach rapprochement, but drifted from that. After all, it still required the words to be said and the feelings to be dealt with.

For an ice age, we have rolled like a vehicle with two round and one square wheel. Roll along, flap, roll again, flap. Ker-whap. Ker-whap. Assumptions made. Accusations tossed. Apologies made. Forgiveness granted. This activity allowed between us, but not thatone. By some arbitrary and capricious ruling made by one of us or the other, but rarely by both. We've talked for the longest time about the need to talk about things. But the agenda was not moved forward by either of us. The Badger has asked repeatedly: "Who will ask the hard questions?" And, finally, guided by interested parties wiser than I, encouraged by parties who have witnessed the pain, I said (and meant it), "Badger, I believe I can ask the hard questions. I believe I can get us started."

I let him and myself down many times. "Hey, let's plot a really long walk and finally open the discussions." "OK." The walk would happen, but not the talk. Pregnant silences between us. He waiting for me to open the door as I'd said I could do. Me wrapped in knots that made me almost physically ill. And I'd despise myself afterward for cowardice and falseness.

To consider about us: we are two extremely intelligent, passionate, emotional, creative, fiery people. Intense and extreme. He calls me "difficult" and I say that he "ain't easy". We don't see everything the same. In fact, there is considerable disagreement about some things. If we were flavors, there would be no vanilla in the mix. He is habanero and I am key lime. Strong. Vivid. We are not identical twins or mirror images, but rather highly complementary beings. What one lacks, the other has in abundance. It has been said that when we are in a room together, the lightbulbs spin. The good times are nearly euphoric. The sad times are almost more than the human spirit can bear.

I've mentioned crying quietly in the dark when a song came on as we drove to the Preserve. I cried because I felt pretty sure I'd be false and let us down again. I'm now practised at planning to, but not talking. So please join us now at the campsite at Cow Cove, 8 miles one-way from Gas Food. Dinner has been enjoyed. The Badger had a couple of nice cocktails. The fire had settled from flame-throwing to happily crackling and there was a lot of wood left to add to it. We sat in the chairs bought so long ago at Bed, Bath & Beyond and pulled them close to the fire and immediately next to each other.
The campfire prevented us from seeing all the stars, but we knew there were plenty of them. Every now and then, a little zephyr would present itself, puffing smoke at us. We're pretty quick movers and likely looked funny when we'd jump up in unison, lift the chairs one-handed and dash to the opposite side of the fire. The blaze grew quiet, but was still strong and warm, little flames licking out from under the wood rather than walls of flame roaring. We inched closer a few times, absorbing the heat into our bodies.

And then I heard a voice. It was my own, although I barely recognized it and struggled to understand the language I spoke. For what I said was stated without tears and was the plainest, straightest thing I've ever asked out loud. "Why did you ____?" I waited only a moment for his reply, but I felt myself cringe for the asking it and I steeled myself for an answer that might be painful. For I was pretty certain I knew why, but I needed to have it confirmed, even if it nearly ruined me."Here is why: _____." Oh. Not at all what I'd thought. He intention was kind and gentle, loving and caring. Not mean, not biting, as I'd interpreted it. How long had I flogged myself replaying it all, when I could simply have asked him . . . we sat in silence for awhile. I didn't know what he was feeling. I was feeling trepidation mixed with a fierce determination to keep going . . .

I decided to try a few "I need" statements. That is very difficult for me, as I wear a mask almost every moment of life. You know the mask. The tough-guy, hard-case mask. "I don't need anything from anyone." But I do. I need. I need things from someone I care for. I choked and gagged the first such statement out. "I can do that for you." Oh. The next statement from me came out a little smoother. "All right. Agreed." Oh. And then I pulled out the big guns: "You hurt me when you _____. I don't want you to ever do that to me again." "All right. I won't." Oh.

Lest the reader think that only one of us had things to say or ask, I will tell that the Badger checked off a few beads from his own pain rosary. They're not mine to tell. I will simply say that the energy flowed both ways. And, in the end, from this man who can be both a wonderful communicator and taciturn (but not at the same time), two overarching, powerful statements that felt a whole lot like cornerstones for the foundation of a structure being built ~ our next phase in life? Finally. A man and a woman with a long history and deep, abiding affection for one another . . . . communicated, made agreements, made commitments. It may not be remarkable in your world, but it is in ours.

That fire flamed and flared, glowed the most glorious colors ranging from golden amber to crimson. We had inch-wormed very close to it, on opposite sides of it. The conversation was so excruciatingly emotional, we were each pulled in by the fire to be dazzled and comforted. At some point in the evening, I noted that my back was very cold and when I assessed my position, I learned why. Each of us had assumed the oddest posture in our chairs - seated, bent very low at the waist, face almost in the fire. My back was exposed to the cold night air and seemed to have been for quite awhile. Our talking had taken on the most unusual cadence. We'd speak about one subject, talk it to completion and then lean into the fire, sometimes for a long time. We'd comment on the fire - the changing shapes in the hottest burning parts, the little blue lick of flame. And then we'd take up the next topic for discussion. More than once I said I'd like to reach out and touch the warmth of that fire. "Don't do it, Limes." I didn't.

People who are not emotional, not romantic, not gentle, might say, "Great, enough time passed and these lame people finally began talking." I amemotional and romantic and gentle, however. So I will tell you what I felt and how it was for me. Struggling for words in the night, I thought I could hear tinkling windchimes - the sort with small glass rectangles that clink together. I thought I could see twinkling glitter in the night air - some fairy offering of strength-giving magic. I thought I could smell the fragrance of dirty laundry rendered fresh. I thought I could taste the peace of a heart unburdened. I thought I could touchmy heart and find it nearer to whole. For, as I've written before, there was magic in the air, some enchanting presence that made a couple of wonderful people start, finally, taking care of their business. We talked. And maybe now instead of simply being in one another's presence, we can actually spend time together. There's a difference.

In my ears right now: Indigo Girls again, Power of Two. " . . . . for if we ever leave a legacy, it's that we loved each other well. Now the steel bars between me and a promise, suddenly bend with ease . . . ."

Something that charmed me: That picture above of the squalling kid on the funny tricycle. No, it is not the Badger in his youth. Youthful Badger wouldn't have sat bawling in the saddle of such a funny 3-wheeler. He'd have been greasing the bearings and checking the hubs, getting ready for the next race.

JuLee's Love Letter

CALLING IN THE ONE: Lesson 3 – Love Letter to Myself

November 2009

Love Letter VERSION POSTED ON CRAIGS LIST/SINGLES ADS

A Love Letter

I have been waiting all my life for someone like you. Someone who sees each day as a new day for learning something – something about oneself, others, the world. Someone who is fully in touch with one’s emotions, thoughts, needs – and expresses them clearly and gently and easily.

I revel in who you are for it challenges and inspires me to find out, and be, more of who I am – both as a human being and as my own unique version of being human.

What you bring to my life, I find a constant inspiration. Thank you so much for being who you are….and sharing that so completely and lovingly with me.

I look forward to hearing you express your feelings, thoughts and discoveries on a daily basis…for many years to come. I receive so much enjoyment from the life we share together – living together, being together, doing together, and most of all – loving together.

May we love each other all the days of our lives – even when that loving feeling is not there.

I love you.

Me.

JuLee's Fairly Tale

CALLING IN THE ONE – LESSON 5 A Fairy Tale about My Life

JuLee Pallette

November 2009

VERSION POSTED ON CRAIGS LIST/SINGLES ADS

A Fairly Tale (fairly ridiculous? fairly possible?)

Once upon a time, there lived a Woman who had grown up believing that everything in Life had to be worked, fought and struggled for. Oh….and that She had to work, fight and struggle for it On Her Own.

You see, in Her childhood, a spell had been cast on Her by Her parents. And She so wanted to be loved by Her parents that She did work, fight and struggle Her way through Life.

Consequently, She didn’t have a lot of Fun in Her Life….She didn’t even really know what Fun was….or Love for that matter. But slowly, through Her Life and especially Her many relationship experiences, She began to learn what Fun….and Love…. was. For you see, this Woman was very passionate about learning about Life – especially those things that related to the spiritual/energetic/emotional aspects of Life. Slowly, She opened Her heart to others. And even more slowly, She opened Her heart to Herself. Each person in Her life, each relationship, taught Her more and more about Herself. She saw how so much of Life was about letting go/releasing what She DIDN’T want – to be or have in Her Life – in order to open up and make room for what She DID want.

And as She became more and more consciously aware of Her choices and what She wanted, She began to draw into Her Life new people and experiences. These people and experiences were emotionally intelligent, loving and consciously aware – everything She was growing to be Herself. She could share Her energy and emotions and intellectual insights and epiphanies with these people and they shared theirs with Her. They talked shadow and light, “good” and “bad”. And with this new community of friends, She also met a special Man to whom She felt particularly drawn. And He felt drawn to Her. He was gentle yet direct in His communication with no fear of “bad” emotions versus “good”. He brought Her small gifts of treats, flowers, books, little trinkets – things He thought She would enjoy. Soon They started taking little trips together – He had places He wanted to share with Her and She had places She wanted to share with Him. And They found new places to experience together. She was so happy. She could openly discuss and share both Her positive and not-so-positive human traits. This Man was not afraid of not-so-positive human traits...Hers or anyone elses..... for He had his too. And They accepted that in Each Other; though at times, They had to consciously communicate Their feelings of not feeling connected so They could respect that too. He was so taken with how fascinated She was with being human…and thinking about and interacting with that. It stimulated and inspired Him.

They were so excited to introduce Each Other to Their friends and family, who saw how much They cared about Each Other and were so happy for Them. In the past, They had both had such struggles in Their personal intimate relationships. So much fighting and arguing. But with Each Other, when upset (and especially when upset with Each Other), They could just express Their feelings. The Other would acknowledge and express Theirs…and then They would work toward a mutually acceptable solution. There was no need of fighting…or defensiveness.

And the best thing of all, even when They were upset with Each Other, They could still feel a connection of Love. That was the connection that drove Them to talk about what was bothering Them. And when They did, that connection strengthened – like the sun coming out after a cloudy day.

Wow! This Woman felt so blessed to have this network of friends and this special Man in Her Life. She felt so valued and wanted by Him – sexually, socially, emotionally, mentally and energetically. He had women friends that He was close to but She felt so secure in Her relationship with Him and He was so attentive to Her emotions that She had no problem with them. And all of these women friends opened themselves to Her and She to them so they became friends also.

They never got married but They lived together in a beautiful house with a beautiful yard and traveled together and read together and enjoyed Their friends and family together until the end of Their Life together. And the Woman saw how so much of Her Life had been about experiencing what She didn’t want just so She could get more and more clear about what She did want. And in Her 40s, She finally did. And that was when the struggle, fight and work in Her Life just dropped away…and Her Life intersected with His…..

Collage Night

Notes From the Field - Colorful Encounters In The Cyber Date Scene

(written by Kathryn Feigal for the Catalyst Magazine, February 2001, Illustrations by Carolyn Toronto)
My experience with internet dating came about when my counselor suggested I seek out dates for practice.  I needed to develop skills in giving feedback immediately to avoid my tendency to become what I thought a man wanted. Approaching internet dating as an assignment worked for me.

To analyze what the word "works" means, here, may be like trying to agree on Clinton's definition of "is." Let me just say that because I wasn't seeking a soul mate, internet dating "worked"for me.

I have met a lot of really nice men whom I've come to consider friends. What follows, however, is my collection of mendacity tales, stories I have collected from my field studies which allowed me to say the things I previously would have barely dared to think; encounters that helped me define my limits and desires. Some stories have been altered or combined with others to protect identities.

Mr. Polyester
My first date arranged to meet at a local coffee house. He told me his height and approximate weight and that he wore glasses. What he failed to mention was that his glasses were held on by grimy, frayed, cut-off Chums. As we sat talking and sipping coffee, I noticed that his snagged polyester pants were about two sizes too small, as was his double-knit jacket. Our conversation was polite and mildly interesting, covering our jobs and hobbies. He mentioned that his social life pretty much revolved around spending time at A.A. meetings and associating with other members. As we walked to our cars, he grabbed my hand and held it. I failed my counselor's assignment by not immediately pulling out of his grasp.

At my car, I redeemed myself by backing out of his attempted hug. The next day when he called, I took a deep breath and gave him feedback. I said, no, I didn't believe we had enough in common to continue a relationship. I told him first impressions were hard to overcome and that as an attractive man he may not be serving his best interests with his clothing choices. He asked if he could buy some Dockers and try again. There was more. I quickly blurted out: "You weren't sensitive to the fact that I didn't want to be touched and I felt no chemistry with you and I really really like sex and I can't imagine I would ever want it with you and...and...good-bye."

Later, at my therapist's office, she reviewed the difference between radical honesty and unnecessary honesty, but gave me points for giving feedback in a situation where previously I would have been tempted to be his friend and try to help him more.

The nice thing about this story is that a month later, Mr. Polyester called to thank me for the feedback. He said that while it was hard to hear, he appreciated knowing that there was something he might do to improve his chances with women. He said that since going through his closet and throwing out the dated and ill-fitting clothes, he had actually had some successful encounters socially.

Mr. New Age
This man's use of spirituality and new age ideas was quite appealing. He had all the jargon down and could talk the talk and even walk the walk to some extent. He was an amazingly good listener with the appropriate eye contact and he knew every angle of what it meant to have a conscious relationship. It all sounded so appealing until he told me he would have to use my car to get to work and that soon he wouldn't have a place to live so he would have to store a few things at my house...Yeah, right (like, your body?). It was not hard to give feedback in this case.


Mr. Out-of-Town
If you view dating as practice, then you might take it one step further as I did and take clipboard in hand and just start interviewing people. It's a great excuse for just walking up to men and talking. I did this at Green Street and I include the interview here because I find his "take" on the Salt Lake scene pretty interesting:
Me: Tell me about your dating experiences.
He: Here or in my hometown?
Me: Oh, where are you from?
He: I live in Washington D.C., but I come to Salt Lake regularly. It's a great place to pick up women.
Me: Really?
He: Yeah, I think it must be the divorce capital of America. All these people marry their first loves and then 10 years later, of course they divorce because they were both so immature. They got married because that was the only way their religion would allow them to have sex and now they're horny. It's the strangest phenomenon. These girls don't consider "hummers" or hand jobs sex because there's no penetration. In some ways I really like having this bevy of women to choose from, but someday I would like to get serious and settle down. All these superficial, willing young women are so shallow and materialistic. They're so preoccupied with the fear of potential rejection. What is it with this community? Anyway, I much prefer older women like yourself (there was a 16-year age difference) because they have a sense of confidence younger women don't have. You older women know how to react to the male species. You're superior because of this and have a real down-to-earth quality. I also believe that you've mellowed on the religious thing and are therefore less complicated."

(Later that night I politely declined his oh-so-attractive offer of intimacy, explaining that I don't date men that I could have birthed.)

Mr. Garlic
This man was all he reported to be in his ad, and more. He was well-spoken, good-looking, Italian, athletic and funny. We dated for two months.

He liked garlic. A lot. I tried to eat it whenever he did so I wouldn't have to smell it on him, but the times I chose not to, he was hard to be around. The stuff exuded from his pores. He'd also stuff food into his mouth and eat very fast. The massive amount he was able to cram in made his cheeks puff out and his lips protrude like a prize fighter with distorted double mouth guards. (If you remember Robert Wagner's suave character with the eating problem on Saturday Night Live, you're getting the idea.) At restaurants, I'd often sit on the same side of the table or booth to avoid seeing him eat. Once, at a party, when everyone else was sitting down eating spaghetti, he stood holding the sauce pan and fork directly in front of his face, shoveling in his portion. I walked up to him and said, "Woof." He chose to quit seeing me after that.

Mr. Philospophy
After the initial introductions, Mr. Philosophy sent a questionnaire for me to fill out. I have no formal philosophical background, but I found it interesting to think about his questions and tried to respond to the best of my ability. The fact that he would take the trouble to ask such deep questions led me to believe that he would consider my answers as deeply. His questions ran like this: What is your philosophy?...please articulate it in the following form: 1. What can be known? How reliable are the senses, reason, revelation? What are the limits of knowledge? What impedes knowledge? Increases it? Corrects it? 2. Metaphysics: What is reality, being, or existence? What things are real in what respect? 3. Ethics: What is good? evil? Are goods comparative? What is virtue?...etc.

I flunked. He picked apart each heart-felt, albeit unschooled response, warning me about post-modernism and street philosophy and ill-founded mitigated nihilism. Suffice it to say, we never progressed to meeting in person.

What I Learned
As I said, I've met nice guys, too. (One even helped me shovel rat droppings out of my storage shed. Can you imagine how he described that date to his friends?)  They're out there. They may not be my soul mate, but maybe they're yours.

Things are rarely how they appear in print. I don't like being lied to or misled, so I suppose I'm going to have to change my age back to the real one on my profile. Now I know that one of my rules is not to lie or mislead. Filling out the profile is important and we all know it's impossible to be original, but at least we should try to be uniquely derivative.

I've learned to trust my own instincts. To be more forthright while still trying to be kind. To see how my attractions on paper play out in the real world, and vice versa. My sense of self is more durable now than at any time throughout my 12-year marriage.

Also, as I said before, this dating thing works for me because I approach it as an assignment; a learning process. With each person, I learned as much about myself as I did about him.

I suppose by nature of my participation on the web, I am looking. Maybe I'll be among the small percentage of people who get lucky. Maybe you will too.
(Another interesting tidbit: writing this article actually got me a date. A nice English gentleman wrote to my editor requesting I contact him and I did. We went out, but it didn't last because he was horribly, viciously rude to the waitress at the restaurant we went to.)
(Last tidbit: I no longer practice dating on the internet)