“Torn between two Lovers”‘

The title to this entry may be slightly misleading, but stick with me and possibly by the end you will understand the “choice” of phase. Over the last few weeks I’ve heard the 1976 song, “Torn between two lovers” by Mary MacGregor a number of times, and it has struck a chord with me, but not for the reason you may think.

I was born on October 20th, a fact that has placed me in the astrological category of Libra, albeit right there on the cusp with Scorpio. So for those of you who want to read anything there, read away. Personally I think the scales representing weighing one option against another which are often linked with Libra, are all too frequently a very accurate depiction of my mental state.

A year ago I had little use for those scales, because I had no options to weigh. Today I have options; some I appreciate and actually delight in weighing against each other. Other choices I recoil from. I don’t appreciate being forced to deal with those choices because so far none of the options are appealing in the least. To make matters worse the persons who have created the situation, one in particular, are people I’ve given repeated chances, to dissuade me from my suspicions. And that distresses me.

The second phrase of the first line in the chorus to “Torn between two lovers, goes even further into my dilemma … “feeling like a fool”. Yeah, I feel like a fool, and I feel like a fool for several reasons.

The first is that I have chosen to ignore all the signals; all the warning signs. Like the fools who choose, in spite of all the unavoidable warning signs telling drivers not to drive into flooded washes during the Arizona monsoons, and have to be rescued, I’ve ignored all the signs. There just don’t happen to be any rescue parties to pull me out of my flooded wash.

When I look at the options through a clear lens, I realize that one option is the result of careful and repeated review of the facts. The facts tell me to move on. My emotions, on the other hand, are causing me a lot of internal strife. I don’t want to move on. I want to move ahead … where I am. But the fact is that either decision is going to be painful and I’ve procrastinated way too long.

For once, prayers have yielded no discernible answer so I just have to assume that this decision is entirely up to me. There is a commercial which runs periodically for a Christian dating site which states that sometimes God is waiting for you to act. I will take action this very week; today possibly, because I’m tired of “feeling like a fool.”

Strange, how absolutely none of this situation I’m in has a thing to do with romance, but every message which seems to apply, is about romance. I guess that it has to do with Abba’s ability, or tendency, to reach you on whatever level is needed. A long time ago, I wrote on the white board next to my desk, the following statement, the origin of which I have no idea outside of my own realizations. It says this: “God will use whatever tools He needs to use, in order to move you … If you ask Him for help.”

I can only assume that His silence, leading to my frustration, is the tool He is using on me at this point. I will let you know which “lover” I choose.

Is it just me?

Is it just me or has the entire world I live in decided that truth is whatever they want it to be? Since when have honesty and truthfulness become so abhorrent to people that they feel it makes no difference if they distort the reality around them to suit the momentary situations they find themselves in. Don’t get me wrong, if you assume that I’m claiming to be perfect now or have always been perfect. I’m not. But, I have, by virtue of age and experience come to a keen awareness of the value and importance of the relationship between truth and reality.

I’m from an age when the story of our first president, and the admission of his action in chopping down a cherry tree was common fodder for first grade students. As I grew older I developed the notion that I was a truthful person and the notion persisted well into my adult years. The fact that I fell into a habit of “embellishing” my past when discussing it with unknowing people just didn’t register with me as being dishonest. Someone made the statement a long time ago that “Those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it.” But what if we know our own individual history but choose to re-write it to suit our personal aims?

Years ago, in the 1967 movie titled A Guide for the Married Man, the Robert Morse character Ed, tutors Walter Matthau’s character Paul, in the do’s and don’ts of getting away with an extramarital affair. The movie is a series of vignettes involving various characters who have avoided being caught by following one of Ed’s rules, or men who have been caught in mid debauch by their wives. The scenes in that movie smack of the dishonesty prevalent in our society today, but one in particular has always had a particularly striking message, and one which seems to have put down deep roots in society today.

In that scenario the wife of the cheating husband walks in on him and a voluptuous beauty in the couple’s bed. Naturally she goes into hysterics and while she is ranting and raving the husband and the beauty calmly get out of bed, dress, make the bed, the beauty leaves and the husband, still totally ignoring his wife, dons a smoking jacket and proceeds to the front room. There he takes a seat in an easy chair and begins reading the newspaper. The wife is still screaming at the top of her lungs. Suddenly the husband looks up from his paper and says, “Oh hi dear. When did you get home?” The result is for the wife is total bewilderment and at this point becomes unsure that she saw what she saw.

The lesson here according to tutor Ed is that if you get caught, deny, deny, deny … never confess or admit to wrong doing … ever! It’s a lesson that appears to have been learned and practiced by society in general.

When I was knee deep in my alcoholism I became so used to lying about nearly everything that it became second nature. Two things happened to bring me face to face with the string of lies. The first of those events involved the fourth, fifth, and ninth steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. Having to face the damage my lies had caused and then make amends is something I never want to endure again; so much so that the memory alone is enough to keep me honest in every relationship. Am I one hundred percent successful? No! of course not, but it’s what I strive for.

The second event was the process of reviewing my life as I wrote Dear Mom and Dad . When I realized that what I was recording might actually be published, I was forced to be brutally honest with myself and about myself. Since that time I’ve recommended it as an exercise in honest assessment of one’s life to any number of people, none of whom seem to be the least bit interested; and why should they be? Society appears to condemn truth and reward the lie … and the liar.

The sad truth is that it starts at the top, in the White House, and flows out and down from there. News reporters report lies as truth. Office seekers of all kinds fabricate facts of their lives with virtual impunity. Schools at all levels teach myth and untruth as history and fact. Job seekers stretch the truth of their education and experience in applications and interviews. Persons you’ve respected and relied on when they’ve made a request of you cause you to respond quickly and sincerely, make promises they never keep and statements which are self-serving if not downright dishonest. When all these, and people in many other categories, are caught in the fiction or lie, they either get a deer in the headlights expression or … deny, deny, deny. At all costs deny!

The reality of it all serves to strengthen my resolve to eliminate any and all dishonesty from my life, in spite of the recurring accusation that by living my life in a role contrary to the chromosomes God assigned me at birth, I’m living a lie. In reality I’m doing the exact opposite. I have never denied my origins. I’m living a totally honest reality for the first time in my life. I just wish that the reality of the world around me didn’t tend to make me suspicious of virtually every single thing I see and hear. It makes me cynical and I don’t like it. Although I lived a lot of my life in a lie I never suspected that other people lied. I had this naïve childish belief that everyone was basically honest and they had to prove otherwise beyond a doubt before I ever suspected them of lying.

As I wrote in the last sentence of Dear Mom and Dad“I … ‘sometimes wish I was three again, knowing what I know now.’”