The most incredible trait of a sociopath, is their complete lack of conscience, lack of empathy, remorse, guilt or shame. Sociopaths are great at feigning ‘moral outrage’, or playing vi…
I’ve always known that “I’m not like most people”.
I’m just not.
It’s not that I’m ‘spectacular’ in any sort of way.
Or stunningly beautiful, because I’m not.
I have nothing to boast about career-wise.
Neither am I lofty, donating my time to some sort of cause.
And I cannot claim that I am accomplished at anything noteworthy, not really.
However, if we look at the human side, the “what makes people tick” – really.
Their need to feel loved and to be loving. To be understood, respected, heard,
to be adored, and to feel ‘special’’ wanted, desired, and purposeful to others;
a sense of belonging and connectedness to some one else; we call ‘lover’, partner, boyfriend, girlfriend, best friend, life long partner, husband, or wife .. . all the tangled webs we weave, just being, being ‘who we are’. seeking pleasure, comfort and connectedness. In this there lies compassion.
This “Passion”, this individual spark, this intimate, vulnerable, inexplicable, wondrous, subjective side of each of us is riddled with hurts, pain and sadness – but also of joy and wonder, laughter and beauty; amazement.
Where do you ‘belong’? What sings your hearts song? What keeps you awake at night? What makes you cry? What soothes your soul; brings you solace?
How many times have you poured your heart out only to be fooled, or to be crushed, or to be dumbfounded at where you find your life to be, and wondering what compelling dogma led you into such a scape?
These matters of the heart; what lies deeper than the surface, what is of the core, this place we get caught up in .. . the ‘defining moments’ in life that we all are either celebrating in or striving to regain composer after suffering tragic blows that set us into despair until be reign again. This cycle, the stuff that makes a man a human being is the life blood that I find fascinating and confounding, it’s where my being gravitates. It is where I can see the big picture and where I find an innate, intrinsic understanding,
without labels, certainty, or judgments.
It is what makes sense to me – or if it does not I must continue to listen to my journey and find meaning, an understanding of, an “ah-ha” moment or series of moments.
Without knowing why or why not, or even ‘how’, I seek what lies beneath … because ‘knowing’ is what we can find there. We can find ourselves. We can be set free.
We can belong, some where, and find Solace.
aeh – March 21, 2015
8 days until My Moms Birthday
I think of her, now
my power, my hidden strength
my kindred spirit.
Life in Baja with the Scorpion Queen
By chris.ahrens | May 28, 2010
My poor wife was tired of my petty whining’s: May gray, real estate signs littering the sidewalks, massive sweepers shutting me out of Cardiff and the normally benign phrase, “Thank you so much” (drawing out the word “much” so that it becomes two syllables) primary among them.
Each time I opened a door for someone under 25, or a waiter poured them water, it would elicit the newest cliche, “Thank you so much,” until I simply couldn’t take it any more. Of course it’s a small thing, and yet I am too old to fake gratitude.
Last week (during vacation) I met someone who lives in a state of grace, expressing authentic gratitude for even the smallest things. She operates a small, tidy hotel surrounded by dust, cactus and a sometimes-perfect wave, in the town of San Juanico, known to surfers internationally as Scorpion Bay. She goes by the unlikely name of Boozie, a long complicated story of an older sister’s mispronunciation and not reflective of the woman’s general state.
Boozie doesn’t surf, doesn’t drive luxury cars, works 12 to 14 hours a day and is, by all appearances, one of the most content people I have ever met. Her secret is not in having everything, but in valuing what she does have.
The town where Boozie lives is a combination old Baja, Wild West show and distorted American dream. By car it is a two-day journey through the desert. For us it was a two-hour flight, followed by a five-hour drive down a rock strewn road, with a somewhat sketchy river crossing where you feel your car could be washed out from under you. The road will be repaired, but when hurricanes hit Baja, as they inevitably do, it will probably vanish again.
The town’s population is about half refugees, snowbirds, retirees and surf fanatics, with local fishermen, mechanics, shopkeepers and their families making up the rest. I prefer the working-class side of town where a simple and sincere gracias replaces the overly zealous, “Thank you so much.”
Nobody would travel this far to visit such a town, which, as Americans love to do, is being developed into the newest version of American overkill, complete with the most expensive houses being vacant much of the time. No, it’s the wave they come for, a retiree’s dream glide, going down the line forever until it empties into a peaceful bay. The crowds swell in proportion to whatever the Internet is reporting.
I rode one wave for a solid four football fields, something that gave me pause to look up and sincerely address the God I serve with a heartfelt, Thank you so much. Along for the ride were two other ageless gremmies, Stuart Grauer and Brian Logan. They’ll give you the rest of the story.
To learn more about Scorpion Bay and the Scorpion Bay Surf and Fishing Club, visit http://www.scorpiionbayclub. com.
The story of surfer/publisher Chris Ahrens
The Coast News archived articles by author Chris Ahrens
To immerse oneself in
all our familiar comforts
does not set us free
To follow only what we think
we need and want
does not set us free
To believe with certainty
what is best for us and
strive for it
does not set you free
To appreciate just one familiar
comfort creates a passage
with unbound freedoms
To move past not knowing
what we need
we can be found
To believe that any trodden terrain
has purpose for what
we need holds merit
in freedom from
aeh | HTB
I spend most all of my time avoiding the fact that I’m alone with no one to relate to, with no one to love, without anybody to dream and laugh with, without that special other who completely loves me, knows me, and what I need., when I need it. How to touch me, how to inspire me, motivate me, spending all of our time doing exactly what we want and need to do for ourselves, individually and carving all of the best times out for what we need and desire and lust for within each other.
I’m not so naïve to the truth of what I am hiding from, deep inside I realize, somehow I know, I feel it, that the window of time for that special other has all but closed. The more my senses fall to the wayside, the wider that gap becomes. I must avoid my emptiness, my fear, my aloneness, my love that I did not get to give. It’s welled up inside of me for so long, with nowhere to go it eats at me and distorts me and blends the perfect hallow night .. .
.. . into what was sacred and bright and full of lull to the movements of oceanic tides that have washed in from
a far to beckon our return to the sea, in the sunshine, in the grace, in the beauty, in the mystery, in the wholeness of grandeur, to reflect the sparkle of light off of the waves in the water, upon our eyes and out to the universal rays of knowing and in having and in belonging.
I’m in a cave now, it’s been closing in on me. I’m not full,
or bright … I need to be fed the beauty of life, to make it real again.
And I cannot hold this void in denial. The duration, as is casts loom and fears I cannot endure.
I cannot endure the thought of ending up in the galley
of the deepest, darkest, wryly, churning tides that spin without care and toss you upon the deadened sea. alone.
Yet to avoid is like living blind, blind to the essence of all that I fear that I’ve lost or perhaps know that I still possess – this is a battle I must conquer, soon.
I don’t have that many “Someday’’ ‘s .
I don’t want to look back at the World without anything to hold onto, something real, .. . to caress me forevermore.
aeh | H.T.B.