The Clarity of Night

Thoughts in an Elevator

2009-11-06T00:02:00.003-05:00

He smells like sauerkraut.

Interesting.

What smells like sauerkraut, except sauerkraut?

Eleven thirty in the morning is a little early for sauerkraut, isn't it?

Eat sauerkraut. Make strong like bull.

His mom probably makes sauerkraut.

(Looks down.)

Oh God. He's wearing tights.

High Voltage

2009-11-04T00:02:00.002-05:00

you can meddle with live wires
puffed with intuitive electricity
you've dodged the lightning
and learned to shed the rain
but my hand is ash
blackened down to no-more toes
the path of least resistance
flows from flesh to thirsty ground

Beer Philosophers #3

2009-11-02T00:02:00.005-05:00

"Dude. You know how they say that if you die a martyr, you get 72 virgins in the afterlife?"

"Maybe. Yeah. Kind of like a suicide bomber retirement plan, I guess."

"I wish I lived over there when they announced that. When they made the big announcement."

"Why?"

"Think about it! 72 virgins!"

"That's a lot of virgins."

"You can say that again."

"Wouldn't it be enough to have, say, three?"

"That's not the point. Where do you think they get all those virgins? 72 and 72 and 72. Adds up pretty fast."

"Definitely."

"Does anybody ever consider, though, that paradise for these martyrs does double duty as hell for virgins?"

"Huh.... Excellent point."

"Think about it. Getting rounded up with 71 other girls and being assigned to some scrubby asshole. Talk about adding insult to injury."

"As if dying a virgin wasn't bad enough."

"So, imagine the day they figure all this out and make the big announcement. At some point, the virgins must figure out what's going to happen to them if they die before doing the deed."

"Yeah. Bad day."

"So, if you're one of them. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that being a virgin is serious liability."

"And?"

"Well, I'm thinking I need to jump on anything that moves."

"Now you're seeing my logic."

"Wow. Millions of them."

"Yep. Millions."

"Actually, you'd be doing them a great service. You'd be saving them from hell."

"Beautiful, I know."

(Contemplating awhile.)

"Dude, why are you shaking your head? You're a genius."

"In all seriousness, the world is a fucked up place."

"I'll drink to that."

Succubus

2009-10-30T00:02:00.008-04:00

You slip into pudding warmth. That's how it begins.

Down below. Rolling on thighs. Up the soles of your feet and between toes. Down spinal channels to suck mango hollows in your brain.

This dream--more delicious than sleep. The pudding's progress. The knees. The oh-Jesus trail from thigh, to inners, to melting down forbidden valleys where heat is leaping, pulsing, pulsing, harder. To living stone.

The sheets flutter off. No thinking. Ankles drag you down from the pillow. But strangely, it's not strange. Limp arms pull above your head. Helpless on the mattress. Elbows hover, about to beat a wingless flight.

Night air tingles across your underarms.

Shins drag open.

You rumble with earthquakes. Attacks entangled in surrender. Cock curving. Stomach writhing. You're splitting with rises and falls. Rising.

Her heat is a thump of weight and muscle.

You wake.

Your honey-and-whisper eyes crack, and you see her. An angel of bronze and rippling. Beautiful enough to weep.

Now now now now. The seed of a hundred gods bellows between your legs. Never so large. Never so beautiful. Fingers reach and part her sculpture. Unveiling. Glistening. Stretching to engulf you.

She slices downward. The heave catapults your back from bed. Arms still cuffed. Arching.

She destroys you. A landslide. An obliteration. Strength to rend muscle and bone. Bed flaps from floor. You roar a lung-rending rhythm.

Fast. Fast. Fast.

So fast.

You spasm and flail arms. Then grip. White claws on her back.

On the precipice, nothing moves. She is all. No motion. All freedom crushed and asphyxiation.

In her death squeeze, you explode.

Mouth torn wide. Soundless, between her breasts.

Then she rips away, your mind yanked with her, your must-have-forever splattered at her feet. Your body bubbles up from the mattress.

A bronze angel in one blink.

In the next, she is silvery skin and blackness and purple eyes. Still beautiful. The leering and licking demon.

Becoming male.

Caressing and tickling sulphurs into your semen.

Then silver enfolds shadows. Shadows drain into a distant light. A nothing eases outside your window.

Somewhere, in another bed, Incubus breath falls on a woman's musky dark.

And that is how the warmth begins.

(Based on the legend of the Succubus, a demon which takes female form in order to lie with a man and steal his semen. After twisting the seed, it then takes male form (the Incubus), which visits a woman to conceive a demon child.)

Beware of night visitors in the dark rooms of this Halloween night!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

By the Lamp Would be Lovely

2009-10-28T00:02:00.003-04:00

If I were carved wood
a polished accessory
I'd hold drinks unspilled

The Beer Philosophers #2

2009-10-26T00:02:00.004-04:00

"What's wrong?"

"Just drop it. Okay?"

"Did someone piss in your beer or something?"

"I said, drop it."

"All I said is that she's frigging hot."

"Got it. Move on."

"And, that I want to fuck her."

"See. That's what I mean."

"What?"

"I'm done."

"What??"

"I'm DONE!"

"Come on. You wouldn't fuck her? Seriously!"

"I'm not going to answer that."

"I'm just being honest."

"Oh, I know."

"For starters, she's get these completely unbelievable--"

"Stop!"

"And after I spent a while there, I would go on to her--"

"ENOUGH!"

"Why are you shaking your head?"

"I'm going to bean you in the head with this bottle. I fucking swear."

"Are you gay? You know, I'm open to that sort of thing. It doesn't threaten me at all. Well, except for that time when we.... When we.... Um, never mind."

"Are you finished?"

"Pretty much."

"Are you finished?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"So. Would you fuck her or not?"

(Throws beer.)

"Holy shit! You almost hit me!! For real!!!"

The Boy Who Sprouted

2009-10-23T00:02:00.003-04:00

i once knew a boy
who lived in a mushroom house
in a mushroom village of nightshade
he came to my window
on the wings of the frost
sailing a maple leaf kite he made
into my hands, he painted
a wriggling gift of spores
then died to a one-cricket serenade

The Matrix

2009-10-21T00:10:00.002-04:00

Have you seen The Matrix movies? Remember the Operators? They are the folks who sit in front of monitors watching the matrix computer code flutter down the monitors. But they don't see code. They see the rendering itself. Code becomes streets, becomes skyscrapers, becomes hot dogs sizzling on a vendor's cart. The Operators look past the code to see their teams in the virtual world.

I see writing that way.

When it's right, I don't see the words, the letters, the punctuation. I see a world shining through, melting the harsh typing away. When it's not right, I see sentences in front of me. Bars of text locking me outside.

In order for my words to disappear, they have to be arranged just so. Their beat must synchronize with the virtual word. Their melody must play the same overture. Their shape must build the shadows and highlights.

Writing is a lulling song to the brain. A dream with our eyes wide open.

That is my number one goal.

How do you weave your written dreams?

Emotion Study #1

2009-10-19T00:02:00.004-04:00

"The hate keeps me warm," she said.

"Wow."

She shrugged.

"That's a pretty expensive fuel, isn't it?"

"I have it in abundant supply."

"But think about the pollution," he said. "What it doesn't consume, it destroys."

"I'd be destroyed without it."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Wow."

"But really. Is life so cold that you need something like hate to keep you warm? What would happen if you didn't have the hate?"

"Maybe 'keeping me warm' isn't the best way to put it. It keeps me strong. It pushes away people who completely fail me. It protects me when nothing else will." She smiled. "It'll probably protect me from you, eventually."

"But what if you let it go?" he said.

"I've thought about that. A lot."

"So? What would happen?"

"What if you woke up, and your house was on fire? You only had a minute and half before the flames swept in and burned you alive. What if you woke up with those 90 seconds to live, and you realized that you were paralyzed from the waist down? How would that feel?"

He contemplated. "Total panic. Terror and confusion. Probably utter madness. You would go insane."

"You wouldn't make it out paralyzed, right? You wouldn't make it out without your legs."

"No."

"The hate is my legs. It gets me out."

He sat back.

She looked down at her hands. She felt his eyes. He didn't speak.

"But I don't want it anymore," she said. "It only makes it worse." She sighed a shaky sigh. "I wish I knew how to let it go."

Cozy

2009-10-16T00:01:00.009-04:00

light a fire
in the autumn light
yellow consumes
the futile fight
save the embers and retire
to refresh on their bitter fumes

Nami's Dream

2009-10-14T00:02:00.006-04:00

She dreamed.

She dreamed of water trickling from the surface of a lake. Water folding into air. Water and heat. The swirls of delicious humidity broke from the soup of molecules and flew. Below, verdant reflections glimmered in the watery mirror. Reflections of the forest crowns. Of the sky deconstructed.

Her own molecules wove amongst them. Rubbing and writhing with just enough passion, just enough potential, to shatter the urge to stay and swim. A heartbeat--just enough life to fuel the evaporation. Her heartbeat. Slow and peaceful. The air became an extension of the lake as she dissolved. She looked up and knew she was the birth of clouds. The bearer of water vapor. The great, great grandmother of rain.

Mother of the waters, she smiled. The contentment melted into the reaches of blue above her. Birds rode high. Kings of the invisible currents. A bending line of geese wheeled in their search for more exciting waters.

The clouds drank from her. Her elemental gift. But did she really want to go? Today, did she want to surrender to the great halls of wind?

Yes, she could go. She could paint moisture into great canvases of grey. She could brew thunderstorms and crumble them at the edge of the Sahara. She could seed the lush green blanketing the forests of Alaska.

She--

She flinched at a hard touch on her face. Cold and jarring.

Her eyes snapped open to a color like mist. Impenetrable. Her hands jerked up to protect her face, tingling from the hit, but also smacked not more than an inch from her body.

Something blocked her ascent. A wall. She frowned at the mist.

Where was she? Her eyes stung and the intoxicating warmth ended.

Had she been sleeping?

Hands moved along a smooth surface. Cool and smooth.

Yes, she was dreaming of water again. But where was she? The floor?

She turned her head toward the door. At least, where the door should be. Instead, she gazed down the length of a ceiling fan blade. The pull cord dangled up toward the....

Up?

She frowned. Disoriented. She pushed off white surface to back away, or to slide her knees under her, but there was no weight. No real gravity to anchor her.

She craned her head over her shoulder and saw the dark covers of her bed six feet below. She was floating over the pulled sheets and her thickly breathing husband.

Her hands flashed up to grab hold, but slapped nothing but cobwebs and paint.

Her fingers shot backward to break the fall.

But no fall came. Instead, she rose and bumped her cheek against the ceiling.

Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. A warmth bubbled up against her back. Like spa water, but softer, a more gossamer touch. The more she centered on the sensation and deep-breathed away the fear, the stronger it pressed.

Her face flattened. Her toes turned to the side. The pressure forced her mouth in a ridiculous, clown shape.

More. She wanted more. So much power, if only she could wrap her fingers around it.

She followed the flow deep with her mind. Where the energy piped from magma oceans and a liquid iron core. She tried to tighten the focus, to bend it, to alter the fountain cresting against her back. But the jet surged and snapped, turning volatile. It slashed like a runaway fire hose, twirling the fan, billowing the curtains, and blowing a stack of laundry across the floor. She fell, ceiling to bed in one gasping plunge.

Her weight slapped the waterbed and folded in. It curved and cradled her deep.

The crater rebounded and shoved her upward.

The impact rolled through the mattress. The wave pushed her husband up and tipped him off the side of the bed.

He disappeared. Two heartbeats after the crash, he howled.

Nami couldn't breathe. She missed hitting anything hard on the way down. Even so, her ears rang, probably from her brain ramming the back of her skull.

"Owwwww!" her husband whined in a groggy voice.

Nami blinked at the ceiling. A shadow marked where her head had touched. She may have drooled.

"What the hell happened?" he said.

She cleared her throat. Tried to form words. "Did you...fall?" she managed.

"I fell," he said to himself, not hearing her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart pounded harder. Did he see her hovering at the ceiling?

"Jesus Christ," he said. "I fell."

"You scared the hell out of me!" she said, surprised at the anger out of nowhere.

"I scared you? I scared you? Oh, well, I'm dreadfully sorry."

She flushed, and her voice took a blade edge. "Why don't you be more careful?"

"I think I fractured my hip."

"You didn't fracture your hip."

"How the hell would you know?" he said.

It sounded like he rolled over. More exclamations as he tried to get up.

"Did you push me?" he said.

Her mouth fell open. Shocked. Or ashamed. "What?"

"I said, 'did you push me?'"

The anger roared bright. Too bright. "What an awful thing to say!"

"Did you?" he said.

His head rose next to the bed. His hair stuck up on one side.

"Why would you even ask that?" she said. "Why would you even think that?"

"You didn't answer."

"And I'm not going to!"

His shoulder worked up and down. He must be rubbing his hip as he knelt. "I just have this weird feeling," he said. "Like I was laying there. And something knocked me off the bed."

"And that's enough for you to accuse me?"

"I don't know...," he said. "Yes."

"You were dreaming! Too bad you didn't pick a softer landing."

"You wouldn't be giving me shit if I fractured my hip," he said.

"You did not fracture your hip!"

He eased himself up onto the mattress. Lots of grimaces and grunts.

"Just go to sleep," she said. "If you want, I'll order you a bedrail tomorrow."

"Charming," he said. "As always."

"You know, feel free to sleep downstairs. The couch is closer to the floor."

"Sweet dreams," he said, yanking the blanket over him. The sudden tension caught her neck and choked her.

She punched at the blankets to fix her side, then crossed her arms over her chest.

His back faced her. It was generally easier that way.

In a short time, he snored. She didn't stay awake because she was angry. That flame dwindled and flickered out sooner than she expected. The guilt did too. What finally lulled her was the sound of the wind. Not outside the window. Nothing stirred the silent leaves on the trees. She imagined she heard the howl of the jet stream bending from Kentucky up across the northeast. An accident to notice it at first. Like a train pounding the tracks far over the nighttime hills.

This time, she didn't feel the dripping dread on the edges of her perception. When she let her mind range far.

Now, when she caught the wind, her mind soared ahead of the Earth's spin and glimpsed an early sunrise. Her eyes closed, and her dreams remained dry, un-enchanted by the touch of water. In the hours before the sun lit her window, she sailed. She supped on the brash strength of air.

(I'm trying something I never tried before. I'm going to be sharing pieces of my new novel-in-progress, but only scenes which have merit as stand alone pieces. If you find something you particularly like in these scenes, such as a mood, style, or theme, please let me know. On the flip side, if you find something you particularly don't like in these selections, please do the same. Some scenes will feature Nami, a woman who finds herself budding with profound powers over the Earth and its elements. Other scenes will feature Ulrich, a man who embarks on a one-way hike into the rain forests of Alaska to die. Later, I'll be removing these drafts as I combine and integrate the work. I hope you enjoy these little forays!)

Ghost in the Torchlight

2009-10-12T00:02:00.000-04:00

After nightfall, I walked out into the black forest. I carried four torches up the grassy road to leave them, one by one. We call it the "Spooky Walk." A haunted walk from one halo to another. Little islands of orange fire with gauntlets of watchful woods between. It was a whim years ago, but the kids never forgot. They clamored for it this time again, so I carefully crept through the dark. My breath fogged in the cold.

When we were ready. Our younger daughter wanted to carry a lantern flashlight, but that would be cheating. She turned it to a dim red. No help at all.

Walk slow. Walk slow. You can trip. You can easily wander off the road. Then, the trees take you. Get lost, and you just wait. Wait for the unseen to claim you.

As we approached the fourth torch, the deepest in, two of us saw a shape fly in the dark. Our younger daughter declared "a bat," and swore it landed in a tree. I agreed, a bat, but scoffed at the idea of it landing.

We stood and talked by the torch. Shapes sparkled off in the darkness. But something bothered me about the ghostly flutter in the air. A little too big. A little too bright. We talked again about it landing in the tree above us. I looked into the starry branches. I felt a hazy presence up there.

I turned up a flashlight I'd stowed in my pocket. A pale barred owl stared down. Less than ten yards away. It cocked it head. Curious. Not flying despite our intrusion. Our clamor right under its tree.

A few minutes later, we took back the torch. We unlit the forest. We sat by the campfire back at the cabin and listened to the owl's sleepy serenade.

(Saturday, October 10th, 9:00 p.m.)

Game Friday: Ray of Light

2009-10-09T00:02:00.006-04:00

How's everyone feeling today? Another week is signed, sealed, and delivered. As Paul McCartney said, let it be. (Amen, brother.)

So, today's topic is your personal ray of light. What little (or not so little) something are you looking forward to later today or tomorrow? What has your juices of anticipation flowing? If you've been feeling down, then I hope that ray of light is all the brighter.

For me: Aine and I and the offspring are driving up to the cabin through the Poconos. The mountains should be moving to full color. Since we normally drive up Friday night in the dark, it will be a treat to immerse in the miles of painted forests. (Also, I'm looking forward to seeing our older daughter ride her new dirt bike. Vroom!)

What plans have your happy sensors tingling?

What If, Would You?

2009-10-07T00:02:00.002-04:00

"What if I showed you a picture of an Amishman?"

"What if you did?"

"Would you comment on the Friar Tuck beard and how much they must save on shaving cream?"

"I might."

"Would you kiss a pig?"

"Is it washed?"

"How do you wash a pig?"

"Then no."

"What would you do if I killed you."

"Die."

"Interesting."

"Really?"

"No. Back to the Amishman."

"He's gone."

"Where did he go?"

"There's a hill, and his homemade scooter is flying through the gravel. He's scaring the pigs."

"Have you ever seen a scared pig?"

"On the Wizard of Oz."

"Yeah, that's right. Dorothy fell in."

"She shouldn't walk on the fence."

"You shouldn't walk on the fence."

"How else can you get to a place without stepping on one side or the other?"

"Good point."

"I would be an Amishman."

"No you wouldn't."

"I could pretend."

"If you pretended to be an Amishman, how would you be any different from a real Amishman?"

"I wouldn't."

"Would you go to Hawaii?"

"Yes."

"Would you go to Hawaii naked?"

"Yes."

"Would you go to Hawaii naked without having any spending money?"

"Yes."

"Would you kiss a pig in Hawaii?"

"Before or after the luau?"

"After."

"Yes."

"Before?"

"No."

"Would you kiss an Amishman?"

"I'd kiss the one in the picture."

"No you wouldn't."

"I'd kiss his scooter."

"You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Don't insult the man's scooter."

Crave

2009-10-05T00:01:00.006-04:00

She painted the color of his eyes with imaginary fingertips. Grey circles. Like targets boring into her. Or a coyote's stare through autumn underbrush.

Across the table, she dipped into the water of those eyes as he spoke. And as he didn't speak. Never did she feel the nervous weight to look away. So strange. Her usual reserve fluttered somewhere above her. Like laundry waltzing on the wind. Clean and apart from her. Fears of exposure rinsed away.

She had to sit close to him. Surely he understood.

He didn't shrink away.

Any farther and her hands might claw for him. This close, he was within reach. The churning thoughts of wanting, needing, would not snap and rip through her. The mountain of emptiness not crushing her.

She touched the martini to her numb lips and the swaying dance of her senses. Was the heat from her? From his skin? The dark brush of hair darkened his chest near the shirt collar. The ripples in his neck glowed ruddy in the candlelight. She wanted to breathe there. Where his shirt cut into shadow. Where his chin would cradle her nestlings.

They say the last and greatest reward of love is the melting fire of joining. The thing that can't be undone. She shivered with it. Parted her lips to it.

And then he is not talking, and she is not rippling the pool of his eyes.

Her fingernails are denting his skin. Her thigh climbs over his.

She breathes where she so longed to breath. Her head is thrown back as he does the same. The waitress utters a partial word and turns away.

They must be right about the final reward, because she can't bear the cry, her rush to suicide. She needs to become. She needs to die.

Their lips collide and the table shoves away.

A check appears with his money splayed across it.

In the dark, down the halls, she shudder-groans. She will never again fear to crave.

Autumn Daydream

2009-10-02T00:01:00.004-04:00

feather white shadows
mycelium yawns to bloom
walk the mushroom rains

The Hydra Cluster

2009-09-30T00:01:00.005-04:00

She turned off the water at the kitchen sink.

"Did you hear me?" she said.

Sitting at the table, he swirled his spoon.

Swirled, swirled, swirled.

"Hon?" she said.

He jolted when her fingers touched the table next to him. "Huh?"

"Did you hear me?" she said.

"No."

"Your cereal is getting soggy."

He glanced down. Slowly.

"Are you okay?" she said. "You haven't seemed yourself since you got up. You don't look so good."

He didn't answer.

He swirled again.

"Are you upset about something?" she said.

He shook his said.

"Did I do something?" she said.

He still shook his head.

Detached.

Very far away.

She swallowed. "Honey?"

But he just stared. Breaths in. And out.

When his mouth finally twitched, the glued skin of his lips popped their sticky seal.

He licked them. "I had a really strange dream," he said.

"Oh?"

She was beginning to worry that something was terribly wrong. Like a stroke. Or really high blood pressure. He didn't seem like her husband.

"You don't have a headache, do you?" she said.

"A bizarre dream."

"Like a nightmare?" she said.

"Yes," he said. "But no. Not a nightmare exactly."

"But it's bothering you."

He nodded.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Part of her didn't want him to.

His forehead furrowed.

"I dreamed...," he said, "...about space. Deep, deep space."

"Okay."

He moved his hand forward. Like traveling vast distances. "Way beyond our solar system. Way beyond the Milky Way. Intergalactic space. Where you can see huge pieces of the universe. Galaxies. Clusters of galaxies. So vast."

She eased back from him. Something in his voice prickled cold over her skin.

"I was out there. In the dream," he said. "But something was with me. Something as big as the galaxies. The outline of a shape. Bending. Moving. Feeding."

She cleared her throat. "Did you see this on TV?"

"It was huge. So unbelievably huge. And alive. It was eating huge bites of galaxies. Devouring them. The clouds of stars would burn in its belly."

"Why are you whispering?" she said.

"I saw the colors. I saw the galaxies unraveling. And it would move on. Just move on. And feed again."

Her heel bumped into a chair.

"But you know what bothered me? It knew about me too. Billions of light years and galaxies away, it knew I was here, lying in bed. With lavender sheets and a goose down pillow. It knew I was here. Watching it."

"You spilled your milk," she barely managed to say.

His face tilted down.

And as the white drops pattered, the arm of a distant galaxy winked out, far too dim for any telescope to see.

The colors and the hunger fed. Shivered with hot exhilaration.

It listened.

And knew the way to go.

Skeletons

2009-09-28T00:03:00.002-04:00

skeletons in my closet
calcified companions
locked in
locked in
no one else makes it here
with flesh still on their bones

Game Friday: You Can Quote Me on That

2009-09-25T00:01:00.006-04:00

Hi all! Happy Friday!! Hope you all are hatching some stellar weekend plans for our newly minted autumn (or spring...you know who you are).

We deserve to kick off the merriment a little early, right? Right??

Share with us one of your favorite movie quotes. One that really speaks to you. Extra points if you used it in conversation today. I'll get us started with a couple.

"Talk to me Goose." Tom Cruise (as Maverick), Top Gun

"Do. Or do not. There is no try." Yoda (playing himself), Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back

Sober

2009-09-23T00:02:00.005-04:00

I'm safe up high, nothing can touch me
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain inside, you're my protection
But how do I feel this good sober?
--Pink, Sober

She slapped the keys on the table and sat on the edge of the couch. She didn't take off her shoes.

City sounds sighed on the street below. A half-hearted horn. A distant siren. Work smeared on her like grease from a hot, humid day.

Her heels spiked into the carpet, and her toes swayed. The silence was too much. The television, too little. She flipped open her phone full of old messages. Nothing new.

She checked her blog. Two new comments. She devoured those, but frowned at the waning traffic.

For Twitter and Facebook, she dropped her shoes by the coffee table. Her feet rubbed away each other's ache.

At nine o'clock, she stopped circling the same used-up slices of cyberspace.

At nine thirty, she made her herself stop eating.

At ten she called a friend but got voicemail.

At ten thirty, she checked the computer again.

At eleven she drifted to music, dark with a quiet bleed.

Over the city, the always-glow of orange sickened the starless sky. Electricity sparkled, orange too, as her emails paced at the doors of sunny time zones more than a world away.

Incidence

2009-09-21T00:01:00.001-04:00

in all the far lands
torn by continental seas
two embrace a meadow

The Desirers and the Safeties

2009-09-18T00:02:00.002-04:00

This week I've been looking for the two ends of a certain spectrum. A spectrum measuring how emotionally secure we felt in our childhood, and how this foundation is carried forward and expresses itself in adulthood. Keep in mind, however, that in my delving this week, I've been targeting those more polarized ends of the spectrum. Many people will fall somewhere in the middle and will have a very mixed result in my "a" and "b" questions. Those folks won't feel a consistent pull one way or the other. However, if you felt predominantly drawn to "a" answers, then you may fall on the "desiring" end of the spectrum. If you felt predominantly drawn to "b" answers, then may fall on the "safety" end of the spectrum. The two groups that I'm positing to today are the desirers and the safeties. Perhaps by the end of this discussion, you'll feel that one of these groups describes you.

So what are the key features of each group? How does each approach attachments with other people (especially their lovers), albeit from opposite directions? I think it boils down to this. When forming attachments, desirers are looking to heal a missing primary security from childhood. On the other hand, the safeties are looking to maintain and protect a primary security gained in childhood. What do I mean by a primary security? A sense that the people around you understand you, like you, want to be with you, and can be counted on to without a doubt to stay with you. It's that glow you feel when you really, really want to be with a person, and that person really, really wants to be with you, and it endures. That primary security can come from family and/or friends. However, if it's lacking from your parents, you may have a more difficult time feeling sufficiently secure in friend relationships.

So, desirers are screwed up and safeties are blessed, right? No. I'm positing that both groups have substantial gifts and substantial challenges. Understanding how each group reacts to emotional pushes and pulls may be helpful in reducing some of the conflicts that each group finds themselves in from time to time. Unchecked, those conflicts can even be crippling.

THE DESIRERS

First, lets talk about the desirers. If you answered "a" to question number 1, and you predominantly answered "a" to the rest of questions, and if you felt a strong affinity with those "a" statements, then you are most likely a desirer.

Desires are looking to heal a childhood they perceive as having insufficient love and affirmation of who they are as a person. They have a deep fear/belief that people will let them down or not stick with them, because that was the environment in which they formed their self-identity. Not having something makes the yearning for it stronger. The same with love. The intensity with which desirers hope that a unique and rare person will heal them is their defining trait. The intensity and the hidden pessimism are where desirers have challenges.

Something curious happens in an environment where love is extremely conditional or withheld altogether. Desirers often become other-person oriented and emotionally enmeshed in others. Because real love is hard to come by, they learn that most affirmation they received is given on their parents' terms. As long as they perform as expected, they will be loved. In response, desirers attempt to please the other person first. Their own emotions come second. For this process to work and be predictable enough for some sense of safety, desirers must be observant and aware of other people. They must be skilled and attuned in order to do the right things to get affirmation. This careful awareness of pleasing others can make desirers very adept at attracting and for giving people what they need. However, deep down, these gifts are conditional. Desirers are weaving these careful constructs in the desperate hope to find and keep this wished-for healing person and not be alone. Although desirers can be very alluring in their propensity to give, give, give, the moment they feel violated or that their investment in a person is mistaken, they can abruptly turn and flash with shocking anger or icy indifference. Desirers become hypersensitive when hovering around these old fears and hurts. Once a relationship begins to evoke the old emotions of childhood, it usually degrades as the other person begins to react to the desirer's hypersensitivity in ways that the desirer believes is further proof that the person is a threat.

Pros of Desirers

Desirers can be very skilled and perceptive. Flexible and hard working to please others. They are often motivated to develop impressive talents and other assets which will "prove" to the right people that they are really a desirable person to be with (something the parents did not see). That they really are worthy of enduring love. Desirers also tend to give what they are hoping to receive. They will give deep understanding and personal affirmation in the hope that the other person will reciprocate.

Cons of Desirers

The construct of pleasing the other person first and suppressing one's own needs can be very unhealthy and actually enable others to take the desirers for granted. Desirers can appear to be very strong and not need anyone. They may be leaders, but they don't truly want to lead. They want to be seen, and then be chosen.

In trying so hard to give what they themselves want, desirers can often either attract, or build, relationships with people who feed from the desirer's passion and energy, but are not equipped to reciprocate. The desirer keeps making the first move, and the other person is dazzled, but does not respond in kind. Desirers can find themselves repeatedly mired the kinds of situations they were hoping to avoid. Subconsciously, the desirer may seek out people who spark old pain in the hope to succeed once and for all and defeat the pain.

Because a past hurt is fueling desirers, they can have sharp trigger points. They have a tendency to think in a polarized way. You're either with them or against them. Once relegated to the enemy camp in a desirer's mind, it's very hard for the offending person to redeem him or herself and be viewed as safe.

Take Home Lesson

Once aware of the unfulfilled need they are trying to fill, desirers should strive to feel more happy with themselves alone. People, in general, are not good candidates for delivering this sort of deep healing to a desirer. People have their own failings and needs. If desirers become more self-actualized in their happiness, the volatile intensity with which they interact with other people will ease. Trigger points may be softened and become less black and white. They may be less apt to push others away when hypersensitivity is sparked.

THE SAFETIES

If you answered "b" to the first question and predominantly answered "b" to the remaining questions, and if you felt a strong affinity with the "b" statements, then you are most likely a safety. Safeties perceive that they received some varying degree of an ideal childhood. They felt very loved, supported, and appreciated by their parents. They felt valued as a person and their well being was a high priority. As safeties move to adulthood, they carry this expectation of security and warmth into their visions of love and mating, because to them, being held in that high regard by their loved ones is viewed as normal.

However, there is negative side to this construct. Children are by definition in a receiving/expecting role. Parents are morally charged with putting their children first and shepherding them through the stages of physical and cognitive development. This extensive support is given at the expense of the parents. Men and women who deliver such childhood experiences often derive personal pleasure and achievement from putting their children first. They do not show obvious signs of tension between their personal wants and parental roles, even though they might feel them. They embrace the necessary sacrifice. In fact, in some instances, they might even resent the adulthood of the child, and subconsciously wish that their children never leave them or stop needing them. It is unlikely that these kinds of parental sacrifices will be made by others in the safeties' adult life. Therefore, an unrealistic expectation may be seeded in safeties that they will continue to receive such selfless giving. Safeties might not even be aware that what they were receiving as children was a selfless act by the parents. It simply seems normal.

Problems can arise when safeties feel that their expected security is threatened or being denied them. A sense of entitlement and inflexibility can emerge as safeties are confused by the notion that other people may have needs or wishes inconsistent with their understanding of security. Safeties may be very focused on relationship happiness and be fierce champions of relationship and team success, but what they sometimes struggle to realize is that their strong positions, albeit couched in moral terms, are actually self-serving. Safeties are 50% of a relationship, so any effort directed at the relationship as a living, breathing entity is 50% to their direct benefit.

Safeties tend to have difficulty seeing their lover as a separate individual who is entitled to be happy, even if that happiness means setting them free of the relationship. When threatened, safeties cling to the relationship harder, which is where their solace lies. However, that act is past-oriented. Beliefs like "we were meant to be together" and "we vowed to love and protect each other forever" are attempts to minimize current or future problems with static, unchanging events in the past. Because they have learned that loving attachments are secure, they expect that once a couple enters a relationship, the relationship will always be. Safeties can struggle with making aggressive changes to improve the present and the future. Change can be highly threatening, because it breaks a safety's sense of predictability and the absolute power of the past to keep shaping the present.

Pros of Safeties

Safeties are dependable and protective of relationships. Unless threatened, they deliver long term stability. As long as they have warmth and comfort, they can be happy. This threshold is higher and more volatile for desirers. Safeties are optimistic and believe in the good of people.

Cons of Safeties

Safeties can become stubborn and inflexible if their world view is threatened or frustrated. They tend not to see the self-serving nature their relationship-center focus. Security can be seen as a right rather a privilege earned with hard work and honest sensitivity to the individual needs of their partner.

Take Home Lesson

Safeties might remind themselves of their role in the lives of others, separate and apart from their own security. Safe and stable relationships may be an honorable goal, but safeties should be mindful that in times of stress, that goal can turn into an urge to compel others to give security no matter what the cost or sacrifice to themselves. Although the expecting/receiving role is granted to children, it is a difficult foundation for an adult relationship. Granting understanding and support sometimes requires openness to change and letting go of relationship predictability. They need to be conscious of the need for ongoing dynamic energy in a relationship rather than counting on an expected secure attachment based on past vows/declarations of love. It is easy for safeties to take their partner for granted.

THE QUESTIONNAIRE

So how did the questions do in sorting out the groups? Here are correlations--the number of times a person selecting a desiring childhood answered "a" and a person selecting a safety childhood answered "b."

Question 2: "a" 70%; "b" 57%

Question 3: This question didn't work out and needs to be tossed.

Question 4: "a" 18%; "b" 50%

Question 5: "a" 75%; "b" 33%

Question 6: "a" 63%; "b" 80%

Question 7: "a" 29%; "b" 75%

Question 8: "a" 86%; "b" 17%

Attachments Continued

2009-09-16T00:01:00.002-04:00

Everyone is doing a spectacular job delving into these questions! Thank you!! I hope you're finding this self-reflection fun and illuminating.

As we dig, please keep in mind that one answer is not better (or more healthy) than another. We are not looking for things wrong with us. Each of the two groupings of answers has its own positives, and its own negatives. They are simply different constructs of attachment (and I'm sure there are more than these two).

I wasn't satisfied with a couple elements of my questions, but that's my fault, not yours. I'd like to drill down a bit farther with four more questions. If you've participated in questions 1 - 4, please answer this series also. If you're just joining us, please answer both sets of questions--the ones posted Monday and the ones posted today (Wednesday). Friday is the big discussion!!

Which of the two statements in each question do you agree with more?

Question 5
a. I hate emotional upheaval, regardless of whether I believe I'm right or wrong.

b. I hate when things in my life aren't the way I was expecting them to be.

Question 6
a. If something has gone wrong, then I should have done better. It's most likely up to me to fix it.

b. If something has gone wrong, then we can work it out, as long as we do it together.

Question 7
a. "You don't understand!" (Angry and frustrated.)

b. "I'm trying to understand." (Concerned and worried.)

Question 8
a. I hope to find it (or achieve it) someday.

b. If only people would see how good the world is, they would be happy.

I've Been Wondering About Attachments

2009-09-14T00:03:00.001-04:00

I'm often drawn to ponder human psychology--what twists us, what compels us, and what makes us desire. Are you game for answering a few questions about attachments and how you see them? I'm hatching a little theory over here. If I get a fair number of responses, I'll lay it out for you either in my Wednesday post or Friday post. Thanks!

In each question, which statement do you agree with more?

Question 1
a. I felt a tension with my parents, even if I didn't show it. I was mostly eager to leave home to meet new people to bring into my life.

b. My parents made my childhood wonderful. I felt energized when I spent time with them. An important part of me was sad to leave home.

Question 2
a. In life, it is normal for people to fail you and leave you. As you seek people to bring into your life, you look for people who will be different and prove that they will stand with you.

b. In life, it is normal for people to honor stability and love. As you seek people to bring into your life, you look to avoid people who are selfish, unsafe, and cannot not be trusted.

Question 3
a. If you want people to be with you, you have to attract them and keep attracting them.

b. If you want people to be with you, you have to find people who connect with you, then believe in that connection.

Question 4
a. A relationship is going badly if you don't feel special, desired for who you are, or understood. Thinking about trying to be with a different person comforts you.

b. A relationship is going badly if your connection is not being honored and you feel like the person may leave you. Thinking about trying to be with a different person unsettles you.

On the Eve of Dews and Darkness

2009-09-11T00:01:00.001-04:00

He touched the blushing shadows of her shoulder
ripe with September sun
like the prickled skin of an apple
introduced to his lips by a kiss

Soon the sun will be set with the summer entombed
but his lips sang evening
flush with the throaty breeze
chased by a indigo sigh

Unfolding for the birth of Andromeda her legs eased to prayer
and he bent to her hot sacraments
over the cold dew harvest
as her eyes melted an October moan