My sweetie took me to Boulder City, which I always want to go to. They have the Hoover Dam there. We went originally for the Dam Short Film Festival.
You know I don’t like movies. But it was a sweet community outing. I sat outside while they watched the movies. I sat on a bench by a tree and wrote a letter to someone I really loved. That was a fantastic letter! It was in red pen, on white notebook paper. I wrote amazing things I never said before.
Then we all went to dinner. We did this film fest multiple years. It was fun to go there, and see this new place, so near Las Vegas but very different. It’s got the touristy fakeness combined with the actual historical specialness. And it feels different there biome-wise, I guess because of the lake making things wetter.
There are all these brass-looking street sculptures. I like the toilet paper hero.
One year I actually did watch the movies. The session we attended was documentary shorts. I still remember them.
One was about hollerin’–a hollerin’ contest. One was about these daredevils who do acrobatics way high in the air. It was too suspenseful. One was about the pinball museum, I think? One was about a cool quilt. That one was only two or three minutes and felt less real.
I heard there’s a park you could go to and see these bighorn sheep. So that’s why we went to Boulder City, the other day. I’d been wanting to see some sheep.
We got a good parking spot, after finding no parking spot, and Ming said something that surprised me, referencing the idea some people have, that getting a good parking spot means they’re a good person or God likes them. Hahahaha!
“You mean a misunderstanding of karma?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
There was a wedding, kids playing loudly on a playground, sounds of swing chains squeaking. It was overwhelming.
The sheep were there, in a clearing. Most of the sheep were resting and ruminating. But an amorous male was chasing around a female, sometimes energetically. I was ok with seeing sheep doing it, but I was not as cool with the reactions of the humans. A lot of humans were around as if for a picnic.
We didn’t stay long. The wedding people clapped. I thought too much about how weddings are a human way to handle what the sheep were doing. And the kids on the playground, full of restless energy, are a result. So much endured, sacrificed, destroyed to perpetuate a species. I mean destroying Mother Earth a lot.
I’m glad to be here and that my parents and ancestors formed me, and used resources for me. Thankful for that. But it’s hard to look at, sometimes. I felt the crazy of seeing too many connections; vividness was disturbing me.
It also made me think of moon viewing parties. A sheep viewing party is like that, if we wrote haiku about the sheep and wore special clothes. Poets drinking sake and trying to out-image each other. Hahahaha.
Anyway, I wanted to tell you that Ming is my true hero. He is consistently amazing. He helps me get what I need, listens to me, is kind and has good motivation, gets on the same page as me about almost anything.
The other day I was spouting off at him about monotheism and polytheism. I was upset someone had said monotheism was advanced, and polytheism was for stupider people. Just about had a fit, hearing that. She had said very reasonable, decent things for the hour before that. I was shocked!
Then I was telling Ming how Christians can hate on polytheism, but their trinity is polytheism, and Catholics worship saints. I said, “No one actually does monotheism!” Then I realized who I was talking to, my favorite pagan Jew.
“Oh, well I guess you guys do,” I added quietly. “But Moses–Moses is like a God! Is he worshiped?”
“No,” Ming said.
“A prophet–prophets are often like minor gods.”
“He’s not worshiped,” Ming said.
“The bullrushes, Moses in the little basket? Hmm!” I said. “Oh, well I’ve seen him worshiped,” I added, remembering the Garden of Saints at my former ashram, the sculpture there depicting Moses with the tablets. “But not by Jews. By interfaith Hindus. Hahahaha!”
It was rare because we share a ton of our opinions–it was stimulating to differ. Nice tension.
Ming brings amazing goodness to my life–stability, generous love, sweetness, pleasure. Money, support with freedom, appreciation, fresh ideas, clear insight. He understands me like very few people do!
Sometimes he struggles with the language it’s clothed in, due to learning disability or narcoleptic sleepiness, but the ideas underneath? He can take any and all, gladly, skillfully. Nothing is beyond him, and much of it, he thought ten years ago. He has ten years on me.
Yesterday he facilitated the board meeting and stayed awake the whole time. He knocked my socks off. Negotiated some delicate shit.
A friend praised him for that stellar facilitating. I wanted to add, “Yeah, and he’s really cute too!”
The secret to a happy relationship is to be kind to each other. I guess it’s not a secret, just a difficult thing to do. Animals in captivity peck at each other! So there are specific ways to be kind, during covid or any time, so as not to peck.
Keep coming back to, “This is the person I love most in the world, so I need to treat him that way, and be more kind to him than I am to anyone else in the world.”
The hand the feeds you is the easiest hand to bite, right? Is that hand extra tasty?
Ming’s hands are super-beautiful. So grateful to him–the aspects that never got damaged, or that he skillfully healed. He helps me live in a safe place, so I can heal my trauma and be good to him too.