While I’ve always been very appreciative of what we did have, sometimes I wonder about what we never had the chance to do.

Sure, I bared my soul. I surrendered. I gave her the songs I don’t share with just anyone. I told her how profoundly important, wonderful, and remarkable she was to me. I let her in like no one else before.

But there were parts of myself I never gave up.

It wasn’t because we hadn’t reached that level of trust. It was a way for me to protect myself. To feel as though she didn’t have all of me, so I wouldn’t be left as open and vulnerable when the end finally came.

I regret it now. Not because I think it would have changed anything¹, but because I wonder what it would have been like for someone to know me completely. To feel vulnerable and safe, all at once. Even knowing I’d be heartbroken eventually, it would have been worth it to share what I’ve always saved.

I’ve been keeping all my girlfriends at arms length to protect myself. I can’t go through life holding things back anymore, constantly worried someone’s going to hurt me. That’s always a risk, no matter how stable a relationship is.

I have to put myself out there. I have to make the first step, even if it means feeling uncomfortable, because the more you share, the more comfortable you become, the more you share, and so on.

I can only go forward now, as a wiser person, a stronger soul, a better lover.

I suppose I’m feeling nostalgic, or missing her, as is my wont when the seasons change.

1. Cause it wouldn’t have. [↑]

As I was writing notes for therapy tomorrow¹, I was doing some research on lifetraps and came across a short paragraph that cleared up everything for me to the point where I didn’t feel like I needed to keep my appointment. It was the answer I didn’t even know I was looking for.

Now the feeling of emptiness that’s followed me for so long is gone, and everything makes sense. I feel stable again, though there’s still a hint of doubt because I’ve been here before but it’s never been anything permanent.

I’m still going tomorrow so I can solidify my new-found understanding. I don’t think it’s going to be a regular thing again, I just need the bit of guidance he gives me that lets me fix myself. I can’t explain how good it felt to make the appointment, knowing I had someone with a professional education and years of experience in this to give me an objective view. My friends are always there to support me, but they don’t make sense of the world for me the way my therapist does.

1. This is the first time I’ll be bringing notes, only because I’m trying to cover such a complex topic that I want to be sure I’m not missing anything. [↑]

It’s hard for me to hang out with people with same bad habits as I have (or have had).

Habits like:

• overreacting
• worrying
• analyzing or thinking too much
• being judgmental
• getting emotionally involved in arguments/discussions
• putting value in material things
• being impatient
• getting too competitive

I always try to improve and refuse to accept these things in myself, so it’s hard for me to accept them in others. I’m also afraid that spending too much time with them would make me complacent, as I’d start to believe that these things are acceptable because other people are okay with it.

That’s why I surround myself with people who are better than me.

Sometimes I come out of a session feeling great. Sometimes I come out feeling like a monster, like some horrible, fucked-up person.

During my first session, my therapist noted that this was a mutual process. It wasn’t as if he was going to surgically remove an issue with me, it would take the both of us working together, with a progressive effort from me.

That’s what I’m doing now. I’m determined to fix myself.

Dependence

• I have a general feeling of incompetence, which leads to a lack of trust in my own judgments. As a result, I have a very difficult time making decisions because I’m paralyzed by the fact that I may make the wrong one.
  • I can trace this back from my childhood to my early twenties when my parents were overbearing and would never let me make any of my own decisions. In fact, they would make most of my decisions for me, including significant ones, like my program of study in university.
• The result is that I tend to ask people for advice on everything, although I’m dependent on Pat the most. This is because Pat is so smart and experienced, and has never, ever let me down. What I’ve come to realize, however, is that Pat is so smart because he’s already made his mistakes.
• This was linked to my anxiety, where I felt like I couldn’t handle anything on my own.
• I’ve been trying to fix this is to keep in mind that it’s not the end of the world if I make a mistake, and that sometimes, making mistakes is the only way to learn.

Unrelenting Standards revisited

• I realized that I tend to have unrelenting standards when it comes to life in general, but especially in my writing, photography, or art because I feel like this is the only way I will ever distinguish myself and be worth something. I feel like if I’m not the best, then I’m worthless. As a result, it’s difficult for me to enjoy my life, even something as simple as sitting down and watching a movie.
  • The roots of this are more difficult to trace than I initially thought. While my parents were a tremendous influence in terms of making me feel like their love was conditional, I believe a large part of this lifetrap has to do with me making up for my emotional deprivation by filling my deeper emptiness with success.
• Even when I do something that I know I should be proud of and satisfied, I feel like there’s always another thing to do, another level to reach. While this fuels my self-improvement and has gotten me to where I am now, I’ve come to realize that there’s an imbalance between the effort and the payoff. I work too hard for too little enjoyment.
• I may realize this, but it’s a hard habit to break. I have a feeling that I’ll need to fix my emotional deprivation at the same time to do so.

My understanding of Tai Chi seems to come in the form of a sine wave: the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know, and as I adjust for more and more details, other details get lost.

For the last few months, I felt like I was getting nowhere. The concepts made sense in my brain, but not in my body. My teacher has said that Tai Chi is already too intellectualized, and as a person who’s never been very physically co-ordinated and tries to compensate in SHEER MENTAL POWA!, this holds true especially for me. Until I’ve mastered telekinesis, however, I’ll be reliant on more traditional means of movement.

One thing that helped a lot is when a senior student showed me what ward-off (peng) felt like. As he stood with structure in his body, I tried to push him¹, but ended up pushing myself off him and falling over. In order to move him, I was forced to use the proper technique (since he’s considerably bigger than me), and expand with my entire body — legs, waist, arms, chest, lungs — instead of simply trying to move through him.

Then we reversed roles and he pushed me until I could channel his energy through my feet. It was the first time I ever felt grounded, instead of simply understanding the idea. I still don’t really understand it, insofaras I couldn’t explain it to someone else.

Adapting this all to the form is something else. I try to focus on one thing at time² but it falls apart in other places. At this point, I’m just trying to get all the gross mechanics to be natural without having to think about it, hoping that I’ll eventually be able to fine tune everything else.

1. It reminded me of the feeling of squeezing a rubber stopper, something with give but not much, that becomes exponentially difficult to compress. [↑]
2. Such as staying at one level without being rigid (considered “breathing”), relaxing my lower back, thinking of my body being anchored through my legs, and keeping structure and intent in my palms. [↑]

I’ve come to realize that as much as I’ve grown and gained, I still seek approval from others, albeit to a much smaller extent than before. This approval is how I define my self worth.

It’s an old, bad habit.

I can trace this habit back to my parents. I would always do things to try to win their approval, only to be met with a comment about not being good enough, or unsupportive silence. Their constant criticism led to low self-esteem and feelings of inadequacy. Yet another example of how they mindfucked me.

At this point, it’s just a knee-jerk reaction. Remnants of my old, insecure self creeping up. I know that one day, I’ll be able to break the habit completely.

Until then, I have to remind myself that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of you.

At the core of our beings, Pat and I are the same person.

What separates us is our emotion, or lack thereof. Pat’s the logical one, I’m the emotional one. I’ve always looked up to him — his strength, his morals, his personality — without really understanding why.

It’s only in the last year that I’ve come to realize Pat is a Taoist. This comes with the realization that I’m a Taoist myself, and explains why I try to be more like him.

The interesting part is that he doesn’t even know that he’s a Taoist — sort of like Winnie the Pooh — which is exactly what makes him a true Taoist.

One of Chuang Tzŭ’s parables illustrates this point. In an abbreviated version, Knowledge seeks a conscious reflection to know the Tao, and asked Silent Do Nothing and Reckless Blurter, before asking The Yellow Emperor (ahhh, the Romantic personification of Chinese fables):

Knowledge said to The Yellow Emperor, “I asked Silent Do Nothing and he kept quiet. Not only didn’t he answer me, but he didn’t even know how to answer. I asked Reckless Blurter, and though he wanted to tell me, he didn’t, and even forgot my questions. Now I’ve asked you, and you know all about it. Why do you say that you’re far from it?”.

The Yellow Emperor said, “Silent Do Nothing was truly right, because he didn’t know anything. Reckless Blurter was nearly right, because he’d forgotten it. You and I are far from right, because we know far too much“.

The same is true for Tai Chi¹, or any martial art for that matter. Dissect it too much, and you lose the meaning. Think about it too much, and you don’t react. As Michael Babin wrote in his article on self-defense training:

It is sad but true that real skill comes from seemingly endless drilling of the basics and then learning how to transcend/forget most of what you have so patiently learned.

In other words, learning structure is essential to learning to react to a complete lack of structure (i.e. a real fight); but if you focus on structure for too long it becomes counter-productive to “being without structure” in martial terms. One of the many annoying paradoxes in the internal arts.

One of the many paradoxes in the Taoist philosophy as well. As much as I try to study it, learn it, and apply it, I find myself thinking about it too much. As a result, I occasionally stray from being centered, and lose my balance.

It’s the conscious reflection which Knowledge is seeking that preemptively dooms his search. This is my problem as well. I buy Taoist books with a thirst for knowledge, but they’re all telling me the same thing now. Not that the books haven’t helped at all, but I feel like I’ve reached a limit. Perhaps even the simple act of writing about this is counter-productive.

I have the understanding, but I can’t apply it without thinking about it first, and it’s the attempt to apply it that ruins the point. I’ve yet to reach a stage of pure reaction and spontaneity, like Pat.

But I’m getting there.

1. Yet another example of how Tai Chi is the physical expression of the philosophy. Or perhaps this could be reverse-generalized, and said that the Taoist philosophy is reflected in everything, such as martial arts. [↑]

Although not in any narrative Herbert Morrison sense.

I had a different entry half-written, but the darkness was debilitating. All I wanted was a second sun; it felt like a case of SAD because the night was making me both anxious and uneasy. It’s nothing close to a panic attack, but it was bad enough that I felt compelled to called Pat to help talk me out of it. He’s one of the only people I can count on 24/7, and just talking to him for an hour helps me figure out more about the world than three months of writing here. I know my eyes’ll feel like lead weights tomorrow for staying up this late, but I need to get this entry down before I lose it. Hopefully, knowing that it’s Friday will be enough to keep me alive through the day.

Self-improvement has driven me for most of my life, a never-ending goal that’s guided me through my actions and beliefs. This is usually based on comparison, since improvement is always relative. Those who can accomplish what I have difficulty doing always have my respect, and give me something to work towards.

Before I complain about getting six hours of sleep the previous night, I think of Navy SEALs who get four hours total during Hell Week, a five day underwater training exercise during the first phase of the BUD/S. That’s when I realize that I should be able to survive an extra hour of work without much difficulty. When I feel like throwing my hands in the air after working on an ad for four hours, blinded by the depth with which I’ve staring at the material, I think of my boss who can work through countless interruptions and distractions. That’s when I realize that I should keep at my work, because perseverance will almost always yield results.

If I can survive it, anything can make me stronger.

But as I discovered tonight, everyone has their weaknesses. Even Pat. He’s always seemed as solid as a rock, completely unfaltering, but he admitted that there are also moments of weakness, however brief. Times when he can’t get any work done because something is bothering him that he can’t let go. Times when he just doesn’t feel like going out or socializing. To find this out about Pat, was to discover that the most cheerful, friendly, confident, and mentally strong person I know has his off days. Even the hardest working, most productive person I know occasionally falls victim to a case of the Mondays or the 9–5 grind. There must be some semblance of balance, in how much to push oneself, and how much to accept.

To strive for perfection is fine, but to lose sleep over imperfection is foolish.

Being a dominant, responsible for another person, means that one should be solid as often as possible, but even this extreme case should allow for some leeway. This doesn’t mean that I won’t try as hard in my attempt at dominance, but knowing this certainly makes the approach, and even self-improvement in general, much easier.

Some may say that it’s a fallacy to compare oneself to other people. After all, everyone has different abilities and tolerance levels, and it’s no fault to born better at some things than others.

But even then, everybody’s human.

It’s easy for someone to associate an experience with the last memory involved. I’m not without guilt in this issue myself. I’ll admit that the rough patches near the end of my relationship with Loo have come to define the experience a little unfairly. Sometimes I have to remind myself of how much it’s helped and changed me.

In reality, I learned more from my time with Louise than from any previous relationship. This was a person who inspired (and pushed) me to be better, but it wasn’t only her, it was the lifestyle as well.

I try not to have too much responsibility at this stage in my life, so when I do have it I take it seriously. Being a dominant means that responsibility is assumed over another person, another being, another living soul. To be given this responsibility, as a bond of supine trust, provided me a sense of confidence I had never felt before.

And with this trust came a rejuvenated zeal for self-improvement. She was strong herself, so I had to be stronger. If Louise’s contribution was to push, my contribution was to grow. It helped me figure out what I want in the next few stages of my life. I stopped slouching. I started speaking with more authority. I started walking into restaurants first, something I could never do before, for reasons I could never explain. I demanded more out of life.

In the end, it didn’t work out. The dynamic wasn’t right. Unfortunately, I never felt like I was able to completely handle everything until it was actually over. Funny how life works out like that. What I’ve lost is only relevant now.

But what I’ve gained is more important.

The Trinary Maturity Series

1. Introduction
2. The Job
3. The Girlfriend
4. The House
5. (In)Conclusion

The first catalyst involved in my “transformation” was my job. It could be said that the only reason this job was so significant is because I had never had such a job before. Perhaps things would be different if I started my current career at a different time, although the same could be said about the other two factors.

I was hired to work closely with one of two owners, a man with the drive, mind, wit, and personality to run one of the top companies in the industry. I see myself as a tool, an extension of his person, responsible for things that he doesn’t have time to do. By freeing his time, the company is able to grow faster, because his resources can then be put to better use.

My role is as a sort of submissive. This works out well, because in (most of) the rest of my life I’m dominant. Like me, many submissives at work are also dominants at home, and vice-versa. People want change from the everyday life of their career, and in fact, my submission in this role is what makes me a better dominant in others (more on this extremely significant point in the forthcoming part of this series).

I don’t have the personality to run a business, the way my boss doesn’t have the personality to work for someone else. Our roles are clearly defined, and I’m much more productive as a submissive in this situation. It’s this productiveness that has given me so much confidence. I know how good a worker I am, how integral my role is in the company, and how difficult I would be to replace.

Relational roles aside, however, there are several other factors of my job that contributed to what I consider explosive growth. The responsibility I have was a big thing. As the only IT person there, I have to make sure that all our hardware and software is sufficient for what we’re doing. When the nature of the business changes, the upper echelon comes to me for a solution, whether it’s upcoming VOIP implementation to save on long distance, wireless tracking of our pick-ups and deliveries, or something as simple as a server upgrade to handle the market growth.

Even things like making phone calls have changed me. I was never comfortable on the phone. Only a year ago, ordering pizza was a difficult thing to do, and Trolley can attest to this after getting him to call for me several times. The only explanation I could come up with for this behaviour is that there are people on the other end, but I still can’t really make sense of this aside from poor self-confidence. All I knew was that my telephone shyness was a problem. I got over it by forcing myself to make phone calls at work. After all, one does not stop a project at a telephone conversation when one’s boss wants something done. I still have my off-days, of course, when I avoid making calls altogether, but those are few and far between.

Not only has my job sparked a change in me, it’s paved a way for other growth as well. Even financially speaking, I now have the freedom to pursue my other goals and hobbies.

Every day I work, I’m thankful.

The Trinary Maturity Series

1. Introduction
2. The Job
3. The Girlfriend
4. The House
5. (In)Conclusion

Many things to say, but this is the most relevant right now. This also happens to touch on almost every aspect of my life, and I find myself considering things from a gigantic range of angles. Unfortunately, I can only briefly touch on each of them, in an effort to stave digression.

The first and most important goal I’ve ever had was to gain a healthy amount of confidence by the time I was middle-age. This was so that I could enjoy at least half of my life as a strong individual. I set this goal because I realized that I had an unhealthy amount of self-doubt, which contributed to a depressing life and lifestyle, as well as unrealized potential.

This meant fighting off the insecurities that were bred into me, which amounted to most of my childhood. It hasn’t been easy in the last couple of years, but it’s worked. Every six months, I’d realize how much I grew. This time, I realize that I’m there.

I finally feel like I’m in control of my life. I speak to people differently. I think differently. Instead of avoiding conflict, I can meet it head on. For me, this was probably the most difficult thing to do ever imagine doing. I would plan my life around such an avoidance, from my friends to my relationships. I had a conflict phobia, an illogical fear of a specific situation, but I fought against it and won. In psychology, people overcome their phobias by remaining relaxed in the face of their fears (because one cannot mentally be relaxed and scared at the same time). I had the opportunity to do this, by placing myself in uncomfortable situations over the last four months, and approaching them cerebrally at the same time.

I also have to say that a major contributing factor to the success has been going through the D/s lifestyle with Loo. Having a submissive as experienced as she was, placing her trust in me, gave me a significant boost in confidence. She once pointed out to me while watching Secretary, that Edward Grey’s confession to Lee Holloway about previously being shy was a very accurate detail. In Loo’s experience, many put in a dominant position are able to break out of their shells, and I never understood or believed her until now.

So now that I’m here, where do I go? I’ve accomplished the biggest goal in my life, something I’d planned on working on for the next ten years, and it feels like I’ve lost a major part of my reason for living. I feel like an astronaut who dreamed of landing on the moon as a child, only to accomplish the goal and realize that he had never dreamed of anything else.

I suppose I still have the rest of my life to decide.

While John was here, we got into a discussion about hypocrisy. Being the complex person that he is, he admitted that he sees no problem with acting in a hypocritical manner. In fact, he tried to convince me to feel the same way. “You’re letting your morals get in the way of advancement”, he would say. I don’t heed any of this advice, of course, because our mindsets, goals, and relationships are founded on two different sets of values, this being one of them. Having built the first twenty-four years of our lives on this foundation doesn’t make it difficult for us to change them, but makes us indifferent to change instead. As much as we like to consider ourselves dynamic individuals, able to adapt to a situation in the best manner possible, this is limited by our desire (or lack thereof) to do so.

In any case, I find it difficult to be a hypocritical person, and in turn, I find hypocritical people difficult. The most aggravating are those who are hypocritical critics. I don’t have a problem with people pointing out my flaws. I have them, and I admit it. It’s the first step towards self-improvement. It’s also great for gaining perspective, for learning how different people interpret things (because I know that many see problems where there are none).

I do, however, have a problem with the people who freely give criticism, when they can’t take it themselves. These are the hypocritial critics; the people who judge others past themselves, when they are the last ones who should be passing judgement on anyone. This hypocrisy may stem from something as complex as insecurity, to something as simple as upbringing (especially as a result of parents who refuse to admit fault to their children). It becomes especially important in equal (non-authoratative) relationships to recognize the barriers that get put up by such a double standard.

Funny how an authoratative relationship taught me this.

it’s difficult to be upright and perverse, emotional and intellectual, impenetrable and vulnerable, without sacrificing the integrity and value of all of them.

—corus aquilo

This is the first time that a comment has been so good, it spawned another entry (although I fail to see how being a well-rounded individual has anything to do with personal identity, so I cut that part out).

In P.E. during high school, I learned that there’s no such thing as the perfect athlete. If someone builds up their speed, they lose endurance. If someone works on their strength, they lose flexibility. To be a perfect athlete is impossible, because there’s a very strict physical limitation involved.

To be well rounded in a much more general sense, to be a modern day (non-pedagogically relevant) Renaissance Man, on the other hand, is only limited by the mind. This means that many qualities do not oppose each other the way physical qualities do. One can be cerebral, intellectual, yet emotional at the same time. One can be firm and opinionated about recycling, yet open-minded about god and religion, all at once. One can appreciate fucking hard and fucking gently, because one does not take away from the other.

The key to this is a separation of self from bias. One has to be able to appreciate anything from any other point of view. To do this requires an almost purely subjective mindset, tearing oneself away of ones own bias. Only then can one improve in any aspect. The hardest thing, as noted by corus aquilo, is keeping the integrity and value of both, because appreciation, not enjoyment, is the true measure of being rounded. They may go hand-in-hand, as appreciation often leads to enjoyment, but it’s the basis of such that becomes important. There’s a fine line between those who enjoy a box of Kraft Dinner as much as 20 oz. New York steak, and those who can appreciate the two. The former is considered a person with no taste, the latter can be considered a cosmopolite.

The Olympic decathlon record holder often holds the title of “the Worlds Greatest Athlete”. It’s the only objective test of all around athletic ability, measured in speed, spring, strength, and stamina. To be a better person in the general sense, is to be a rounded in much the same manner. The measure is anything from conversational skills, to generosity, to golf handicap, to patience, to academic achievements.

The only objective test is life.

For over a decade, my life has been a struggle towards becoming a better person. I’m not sure why I started to live this way, although I suspect that it was the result of a confused childhood, growing up with an almost completely unrestrained guidance. There was no sense of morality, perspective, and most importantly, purpose. I started feeling out my own worldview without being consciously aware of it at the time, and the result of all of this was a collective yearning for self-improvement as an effort to define myself and the things around me.

A few years ago, I realized that self-improvement is the highest form of living, that the best someone can do for him or herself is to be a better person. No other belief has become as important in my life. It sets learning as the greatest good, no matter what the means. Pain, loneliness, and hardship become beneficial. For years, my struggle for self-improvement was almost tangibly manifested. I could understand exactly the parts of myself that I wanted to change and make better, so I would slowly turn my life in that direction. As much as all of this helped me, it was still a struggle.

But even past this “useful” worldview or attitude is a more abstract goal (I refrain from using the word “positive”, because I feel that my understanding is more of what I consider a simple subjective realism, than the connotation of bias associated with “positive”). Whereas a polymath is someone with a relatively academic breadth of knowledge, I try to be rounded in a more general sense. This means an understanding and appreciation of anything, from humour, to wine, to music, to conversation, to narcotics, to relationships.

Simply put, I strive to be a better person in as many aspects as possible. I strive to be a dynamic person, who will never stop learning. I want to be able to have a conversation with any person I meet, no matter how different his walk of life is from mine. I want people I’ve known for years to be surprised by something I may do or say tomorrow, such as Trolley with my orgasm theories, or Pita with my growing securities. I want to be equally intellectually and emotionally powerful. To not have any weaknesses. To never stop improving.

To be truly universal.

I realized that I never wrote about this, after re-reading the entry I wrote last Friday. In fact, I had been thinking about this subject for the past week, the past month, the past half year. Yet, I had never come to a conclusion, had never been firm on how I felt, until considering attendance at Aaron’s new years party (with a little hand from talking Trolley through some stuff, along with coming to terms with my own issues).

My intolerance has always been an issue in the past. An issue for improvement, that is, and I’ll be the first to admit it, albeit with a helpful reminder from John. I’ve always known how intolerant I am, although I never paid much attention to the fact because I consciously never let it get as far as being unable to socialize with people (never let it get in the way of everyday life, to the point of neurosis). There are some instances where I’ve actually been proud of how intolerant I am, because it makes me feel stronger, more respectful about the company I actually do choose to spend my time with. I want all my friends to know how much I generally hate people, and that they’re AWESOME enough to meet even my high standards. Hell, I even almost decided not to associate with John at one point, but realized that I was making a huge mistake, clouded by my own problems at the time.

I digress. I’ve become less afraid of my intolerance. A long time ago I realized that other people have every right to be themselves, and I’m probably the last person that they should be changing for. Hence the quest for my own self-improvement. However, I’ve only recently realized that I have just as much right to be me. That means every right to be intolerant. As intolerant as I want to fucking be.

The issue can be extendend to relationships in general, dating or otherwise. If two people can’t come to a reasonable agreeance on something, then sometimes all that can be done is recognizing it and accepting it. If these differences can’t be lived with, then the only thing left to do is part ways on amicable terms. One person has just as much right to be themselves as the other.

And if it just so happens that I find myself in unpleasant company, I’ll be the first to bow out. I’d rather spend quality time with the people I like, than share them with people I don’t, and the last thing I want to do is force the people I care about to make a decision between me and someone else. So I make the decision for myself. No one is at fault. Some people just don’t mix. As long as it never gets to the point of harming the relationships I want to have, there’s no problem. If this means that I may occasionally have to be in the company of people who make me uncomfortable, for important events or whatnot, then so be it. My friends are worth the unpleasantness, and I know that they understand me enough to accept my intolerance.

The issue becomes a non-issue.