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Dienstag, 19. Februar 2013
The winter blues – leading to an almost sleepless night...
It's now about four weeks until the spring equinox, and still the days are quite wintery, despite the first traces of spring being around the corner. which I spotted last Sunday, when taking my barefoot power-up stroll in the park. Seeing the weather forecast for the next days, until the end of February, I really felt a case of winter blues coming up. As so often, February is the month of winter, when this gloomy, dark and cold season seems to inhale and start running again, to make a the race look nice, before it reaches the finish line and leaves the track of the seasons.
February is also the month, when I was born, under the stars of Aquarius. A fine time to celebrate growing older, when it's set in that dreary season. People prone to depression or even having suicidal feelings would have prime opportunities to say bye-bye to it all on such a day. But, knowing that I am a fortunate being (for being alive, first of all), I am not at all prone to either of these feelings. But still, I am not immune of being hit by bouts of winter blues.
I must say, I've had it with this season! I want to have spring soon!
Unfortunately, winter is not about , flowers, rainbows, fairies and fluffy Care Bears... it's more the See-if-I-care Bear season, flipping the finger right back at me. I just have to see it through, unfortunately.
What does „fortunate for being alive“ mean, you might ask? Well, originally, I shouldn't have been born in February, but in April... as one might guess from my delicate body type (yes, Sheldon, that was sarcasm! :) ), I'm a preemie, born two months early. And back in the late 1960s, medical care for infants born prematurely wasn't as good as they are today. There was a 20 to 25 per cent chance that I wouldn't survive. Luckily, the odds were in my favour. And since I was quite frail, feeding me a lot to gain weight and strength was one of my mother's strategies to ensure my survival. So, the foundation for my big-bellied godly appearance, which later led to my beloved Rainbow Sister giving me my true name, was laid very early in my life.
Perhaps it was the universe deciding or some quite particular karma that there are different paths in life for me to walk, special events to be part of, exceptional beings to encounter, and therefore pulled me from my mother's womb to be born at the peak of the hippie era, under the Aquarian sign, making my entrance into the world as a frail, vulnerable and special human being. „Special“, in this case, applies to my gender, since that was not fully decided at first. Outwardly, and visibly, I was male, no doubt. But my biochemistry had not quite settled, and my body was full of female hormones. My mother later joked about that, by saying „you know, you were supposed to be a girl...“.
Technically, I was an intersexual being, and during early childhood my mother decided to have that hormonal imbalance „fixed“ by sending me to the doctor, where I received testosterone shots several times a week for many months. That explains, why I have turned into such a bear of a man (speaking of body hair... I wear my own fur coat) and is also the basis of another quality of my body, that only lovers I have been intimate with and tantric massagists who sparked wonderful fires in my root chakra know about. ;-)
So, actually, having been born an Aquarius is not a bad thing for me at all. I have grown and learned to love the ingredients as well as the whole of who I am. And there are people loving me for who I am, too... body and spirit. Now, what could have triggered that sleepless night, while I am generally a happy being? It was the aforementioned winter blues, intensifying something I've heard at the combined birthday and official opening party of an Oriental Dance studio, after it has moved to its new location. And yes, it's about my dear friend Sandra again, who happens to be an Aquarius, too... she decided to celebrate the official opening of her studio in the new rooms on her 45th birthday. Of course, she invited me to be a guest at the party. And, of course, I accepted the invitation, looking forward to see her again, take a live glimpse at the new studio and present her with a little birthday gift, too.
On arriving there (barefoot, of course, I have a reputation to maintain, after all ;-) ), she came to see me, all smiles, hugged me close and for a while, too, which felt like a genuine heartfelt deep friendship gesture. More than the usual, casual friends hug. This was a hearty embrace, to be sure. She was indeed happy to have me on her party, where she celebrated her success in turning old rooms in a heritage-protected building into a modern studio for practising as well as performing Oriental Dancing. She, her husband and friends had worked there themselves, and have done a really great job. Since we parted on a mutual basis about 24 years ago, promising each other to stay friends and keep in touch, I was happy for her making her way in life. She has accomplished living up to her dream, having a professional career as an Oriental dancer and dance teacher. I was happy seeing her welcoming the guests, enjoying the celebration and accepting the birthday gifts. When sitting together with her, her husband and other guests, I was asked, where I know her from. Since this was a public event, I told the guest that we were friends in high school. Basically true, but omitting the fact, that we started as friends, became close friends, then lovers. But this was knowledge not to be shared at such an event.
Before that, she gave a welcome speech to the guests of the studio opening, her husband at her side, and expressed her joy about moving into the new rooms and having a great partner in her husband, who has and does stand by her in all matters of life, since they became engaged 25 years ago. OK, here's a discrepancy in numbers. I wrote, that we parted about 24 years ago. What made us part, I already described in my blog post on November 14, 2012, when I had something else gnawing at me. („My funny-bone overcompensation“ http://ganesha1967.blogspot.de/2012/11/my-funny-bone-overcompensation.html ) On my way home, the gears in my brain (used to crunching numbers, due to my current job) started grinding.
I was making the following calculation: it was January 31, 1986, while I was in hospital, when she "caught me, while I couldn't run", as she later put it (her sense of humor is one of her most loveable character traits... that hasn't changed a bit). That means, 27 years ago we began our relationship as lovers. On June 27, 1987, about a year and a half later, I moved house with my parents (not by my choice!) and went to begin my 15-month tour of duty in the Air Force (see the aforementioned November blog post for details, what happened to me and how it affected my personality). That was 25 years and a half ago. While I was away, bad things happened in her life, I wasn't there, and only after returning to my old home region, I realized that there was no hope for us to pick up the thread we had tied before and weave into a tapestry of a life together. But before we parted, we still met for about another year. And during that time, I remember that she never told me about already being engaged.
Now, I know that the „what-ifs“ and „might-have-beens“ are not the best things to look at, when reviewing memories. Especially, when the memories are about a special person whom I still care about – very much in fact. But I couldn't help thinking this: had I already known this back in 1988, before I came back to the region I come from and currently live in again, would I have come back? After all, it wasn't just coming back to a place I knew, I wished to return to the person I love and to revive our relationship, leading to a life together.
I believed that there was more between us than just a high school love affair. I might have decided to move somewhere else, start studies not as a teacher, but perhaps working on my drawing and painting skills (I was quite good at that) and begin arts studies... perhaps in a place like Berlin, Munich or even abroad... My English was already good enough at that time that I could have gone to Britain (London, Cardiff) or Ireland... lots of options.
But then, would I have led the life, which I don't regret at all? Would I have made the experiences, like living in that alternative commune, meeting exceptional people, becoming part of the Rainbow Family of Living Light (no, that's not a sect. :-) ), found soul mates, lovers, friends? Most likely not.
Still, that number „25 years“ and the fact that she never told me gnawed at me, just the way her little Facebook post about finding the perfect man right away (referring to her husband) did. That already sounded like dismissing what we had. It might seem gullible, if I still believe in the good in people, especially those people dwelling in my heart, but I believe, that she did not intend to hurt me. Once again, it was my reaction to a small thing, amplified by a gloomy mood.
While what we had is definitely over since last century, I still believe that we had something special. I hope, she thinks so too...