Be One Of Those That Loves Others For The Sake Of Loving Them

I have always had a Tribe. It doesn’t matter if it was a group of people who I smoked all sorts of illicit things with or people who I loved with all I am, I have always had a Tribe, and I will always have one. Not because it is some en vogue thing to say about one’s self, I say it because I am an utter failure of a human being when I try to do anything by myself. That may sound self-deprecating, and I suppose it is in all honesty, but it is no less true. I need people in my life, support structure. It doesn’t matter what word you use to describe that group of people either. Some say, Tribe, others People, still others say Pack or Coven, Church or Family. Some say all of them and others say things that I can scarce imagine.

The point is that when I tell you are my People, of my Tribe, it means you and I have connected on a level that is above and beyond the daily definition of friendship. I will look out for you as I know you will look out for me. Oddly enough, I will most likely be less likely to ask you for help if you of the chosen I have because, in my mind, you are too close to burden with such things. Yes, I know it is a little stupid and I am actively working on changing that part of myself. I love people, I love people strongly and quickly and I become very protective nearly instantly if I can tell you will be of my Tribe. Those of you who are reading this that I count as mine, you know what I will do for you, you have done for me and the bond is not a gentle thing to separate and it is painful and difficult for both parties involved should it happen.

Why is all of this being spoke of this cold and blustery day here in Western New York? I am honored and privileged to have each and every one of you in my life is why. I do not deserve the vast and nearly limitless kindness each and every one of you has given me and if it takes me thirty lifetimes I swear I will try to give back to you in love and support a thousandth of what you have given to me. I will lift you up higher, love you stronger, support your every endeavor and even if I disagree with you, I will support and love you because it is the right thing to do.

Yeah, I am a little emotional this morning, but, have you met me?


A Voice Heard, A Feeling Felt, A Warmth

I had a thing happen to me last night that was wonderfully singular in its existence and I know, for reasons that a Hippie Bear may explain later, that it will never happen again, and I am okay with that. I know that is cryptic and it even may sound laughable to some of you who are on the opposite side of the belief spectrum from myself, and that is okay. I am relaying an experience, my proselytizing days are very much behind me thank you.

We were sitting down watching TV last night, Terry, Elder Duck, and I. American Horror Story actually, which I have seen precisely three episodes of before last night when I watched two of those episodes again to be able to say I watched all the things. Since I had to get up obscenely early, I bailed about eight or so and started to head upstairs. I was on the fourth step when I heard Naomi ask me for her hairbrush from the bathroom downstairs.

Some of you are already putting American Horror Story and dead wife theories together, and that is fine for you to do, I just know it was something very different.

It wasn’t a bad, a scary, dark, evil. It was my wife, my wife who had asked me a thousand times to do that same thing in the years we were married, and even in the years we weren’t. It was nearly a daily occurrence when we moved in here because one of us was always forgetting to bring something upstairs when we went to bed and one of us also generally lagged behind the other for one reason or another.

She asked me for her brush and I stopped for maybe a second before I walked up the stairs, went into my room and closed the door, and sat down on my bed. I had not felt her so strongly since the day she died. I didn’t cry, I didn’t have palpitations, I didn’t anything. I sat there and I let it wash over me like a cooling rain before very calmly taking the rest of the evening in stride.

I am not going to over-analyze this. I am not going to break it down, I am going to accept the gift I was given. I said my thanks to the Beings responsible for such things and I slept with warmth in me last night I have not had in almost four and a half years.

That’s it, that is all I am going to write about it here. I am having conversations with people about, but the world doesn’t need to know every word and deed of my heart and mind.


Uncle Hippie Bear Wants To Sit You Down For A Second And Have a Little Talk, No, Not That One, Although I Can Totally Make That Happen

When I was a kid, I was super embarrassed about my dad being a McDonald’s manager. I didn’t really know why, but I just was. Kids never really said anything to me about it and when they did it was to see if they could get free shit, which my dad almost always said yes to anyway. It wasn’t bad living. he was making pretty decent money for Southern California in the eighties. We were poor, oh hell yes we were, but that is because we lived in California. Thirty years later I pay less rent for a three-bedroom house than my parents did for a two-bedroom apartment in the cockroach-infested barrios of Los Angeles. If we had lived in other places, but no, that is a game I won’t play. I may not have made my peace with my childhood, but I won’t sit and try to pretend it was anything else but what it was. If I want fantasy I can always listen to my siblings tell me how awesome it was and how much better life was than what I tell people it.

Meh. We all get by the way we can. I stopped arguing with Andy and Mo a long time ago, it is a soul-draining experience to have the people who should love you the most be the first to call you a liar. So I remove myself from the equation and it makes life so much easier.

I tell my life story all the time, so I won’t recount all of it, just a story today for all of those people who want to know why the Bear goes Rawrz.

Three days after my mother died, so the end of February 2005, my sister, my Naomi, and I were sitting in Naomi and I’s apartment mostly sober talking about life and what do do now that Mom was gone and all those questions you need to ask yourself when you lose someone, a horrible foreshadowing to a decade later, and my sister decided to play Mom. No, really. With the exception of chain-smoking three packs a day and having salt-and-pepper hair, she took on the very unneeded and unwanted role of Lynanne. My brother had already wisely gone back to Kansas and thankfully my sister didn’t like sleeping in my place because of loud kid. So when I did see her, which for a week or two after was a fucking lot, she decided that my life choices, ALL of them, needed to examined in minutiae and changed.

Keep in mind, this is before Naomi and I made the Poly decisions we did, the BDSM decisions we did, hell we hadn’t even moved away from Brockport yet. I understood when she asked me to stop smoking, I mean it is pretty much item one of two of what killed my mother. So, in all fairness, I will give her tat one and Naomi and I were successful for a bit before we backslid and picked up the habit again.

That was where reasonable and sane stopped.

We drank too much. Ate too much salt. Raised our kid outside her norm. On and on and on.

Now, no more talk about that, it just allows me to illustrate this point which was hammered home very early this morning and made me smile in my acknowledgment and avoidance of it.

Live your life, my loves. Live your lives and smile and scream the joys of the Universe from your lips like unending supernovae. Explode your happiness into the world and watch as the happiness you spread mixes with the parts of others and a new and wonderful thing is made. Sagan was right in that we are star stuff, but that is but the physicality of the human condition. If you want to go deeper into what can only be called the soul by the more philosophical leaning of those of you out there, you need to look and see what you are putting into the Universe that is effecting others.

I have been negative for a very long time now. While I do apologize for it, it is by showing actions and proof of the change that we truly tell those that we love that we are different than we were before and our energies are directed towards the highest peaks of human emotions and achievements.

A little flavorful for pre-noon on a Saturday on a single cup of coffee perhaps, but it does not a for a second make it less honest in all of its power.

So RAWRZ I say to you now and go the fuck out there and explode your happiness you motherfucking awesome butterfly unicorn narwhal leprechaun kittens.

Love Me and I Will Love You In Return With The Ferociousness Of A Hurricane

For years, I have known that I have an incredibly special person as my best friend. They have been with me through thick and thin, good and bad, desertion, and redemption. I am not worthy of them, although I think they wouldn’t say that, of course. They are one of the fundamental pillars of my life. A tad melodramatic? Maybe, but if you heard the way I talked to them, I think you would at least believe that I believe what I am saying when I say that.

I have been in this maelstrom of late, and, with the help they probably would say wasn’t so special, they have, with the hands of a tiny group of people, pulled me from farther inside of the pit than I have been in some time. I am a very emotional man, and I am not ashamed in the least to say that. I fall into very, very deep Dark when I do. They are one of the let us say, five people in the world who can help me get out of that thing.

A crutch? Aye, maybe they are at that. I would rather them see me ugly cry forever than to hurt them any more than I already have by hiding things from them that one tells their best friend.

There is a quote, a quote I love very dearly from a brilliant poet, that explains better than I what I mean here.

“The only darkness we should allow into our lives is the night, for even then, we have the moon.” – Warsan Shire

They are part of that which makes my moon in the darkness of my life. They smile and laugh to make me smile and laugh and pick up the shattered pieces of what I was and hold onto them in case I ever require them again. They have never been asked to keep the broken and wounded. It is their hearts calling. They are, and always will be, the conduit of a more significant thing.

So, in short, love your friends. Love them with all of your heart. Gender and society be damned. Kiss them on the cheek and tell them that you love them. Hold them close to your heart and never let them think that they didn’t make the tidal forces of the planet that is you create waves that watered civilizations.

Love Is A Many Tentacled Thing

There are a thousand things that I fall in love with every day. Maybe it is because I am a schmuck who wears his heart on his sleeve, or perhaps it is because I see the world in a fundamentally different way than you do.

That is neither better or worse, just different. It is the difference between Italian and Latin. You hear the echoes of the one inside of the other. Where you see a pretty flower, my brain goes on a little field trip and write a poem about it just because that is a thing that I know how to do. When I people watch I wonder why that person wore that thing today, was there a fight, are they still smoking even though they were told not to?

Whimsical to some, but it is just the way my brain has always worked, and I do not plan on trying to shape it differently because people think it is nonsensical or silly. I am perfectly capable of doing adult things without having to look at the world like a slate of marble with shades of gray on it. You can see the world like that if you want, but perhaps I want to see the things tucked into the corners where you stomp and don’t pay attention.

Life is too damn short not to love things. It doesn’t matter if they are silly things or things that make every person’s heartbeat a little harder. I can love Gaelic Poetry and Russian Novels, and you can enjoy Italian Cooking and Ethiopian Art, and we are not so very different after all.

It is like the tentacles of an octopus.

I know but follow along for a second before the snickering gets louder.

Each moving in its way, each with an objective the others may not have. However, they are always part of the whole. They are together in a constant search.

Decent metaphor, no?

I love forever eyes. Those eyes that look into a place where you can’t see. You are not beneath them, and they are deeper pools than you have ever dreamed of soaking in. You can see storms of anger and power you cannot imagine or love and kindness as infinite as the Universe. Wisdom and depth, empathy, and sadness. They hold you with a glance and then, at a blink, they are just eyes, but once you have seen the Wells of Forever, you never, not once for the rest of your life, stop looking for them in every single person you meet.

When you see them it is a welcome home, and when you do not you are not dismayed at their absence, you know that when you see them next, it will be even more amazing than the time before.

Segues are fantastic, aren’t they?

I will be starting another story today after I get home from the gym, a little more fantasy than what I have been writing the last few weeks, but I think it should be enjoyable nonetheless.