Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

After many months eating the slice of Life, I think we will leave it to posterity the same way we did when last we fed the MonSter - with a short, pithy but very true story;

Bon apetit.

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Oh Nicky, you're so fine...
Once upon a time, in the centre of his universe, lived a little boy called Nicky. He lived with his mum and dad on a farm and he was the firstborn of their brood, their eldest. A few years after Nicky was born a baby brother was added, then a sister and the family was complete.

Nicky lived in a small, rural community where not a lot happened that was very exciting. He learned to make his own fun, discover his own pleasures and as he grew he became more adventurous, he took chances. His mum became used to patching up battered body parts and, when she couldn't cope with the damage the hospital did the job instead.

His parents weren't cuddly people and his need to be cuddled and touched became a driving force, right through into his adult life. He wanted to please people, but as the eldest he was always the one who should have known better, should have been watching the younger ones and loving approval was a very hard commodity to find. Some of the times when he felt he was unfairly held accountable became a cunningly hidden bone of contention; a festering pocket of injustice that churned and writhed not far below the surface and occasionally made it's presence felt with rather little provocation.

As he grew up, he became a bit of a daredevil, conformed by being non-conformist, got himself a mohawk and dyed his hair blue, smoked drugs, rode his motorbike too fast with too much alcohol in him; he pushed the envelope and his boundaries until rational thought and mounting physical injury took over and cried "enough". But these were his golden years, the ones he would continue to attempt to emulate throughout his adult life by endlessly pursuing relationships with attractive women who were significantly younger than himself. Being blessed with good looks and a seemingly placid nature made forming these relationships easy. But keeping the relationships was a different story all together. His first marriage (in his mid 20's), to his impregnated teenage girlfriend ended in tears and misery when she was unfaithful to him and he left her, even though he admitted to wishing he could screw around as well. A few years later he became entangled with a woman he was incapable of loving, but who managed to provide him with two more offspring before he reached the point where the disrespect, abuse and overwhelming responsibility of raising chidren in a loveless household became too much and the inevitable split occurred.

Once more, he was alone and he was lonely. He went looking for "friendships" with women, specifically targetting the group that would fulfil his long-awaited and much-desired access to uncomplicated, meaningless sex with as many women as he could find who made his dick twitch, no strings attached. As long as they would cuddle him, touch him and rub his back that was close enough.

And along the way he found a new love, and a new kind of love. But the woman he found this love with wasn't his ideal, she wasn't anywhere near it. Instead of being young and slim and pretty, she was old (older than he was by 6 weeks), rather ugly, fat and too damn clever for his good; she was usually one step ahead of him. He spent months with her, every weekend and often nights during the week, a close, companionable and comfortable relationship where he was accepted and nurtured and considered a part of the family. But he still felt the need to hide behind his placid exterior, try to be what he thought he should be, was still trying to please. He was safe, he was loved and he was wanted, but he couldn't keep it alive and he could not dignify her input or efforts with the title it truly deserved; she was not allowed to be his "girlfriend". Eventually, he couldn't reliably get it up and keep it up any more. He was guilt-ridden by the understanding and support he received for his incapacity to perform as a man, telling her he loved her while infrequently making love to her, yet still chatting online to other women in his search to reconstruct his glory days and satisfy his need to find a young, attractive woman to add to his life. Despite the platitudes he murmured so often he convinced himself he meant it, he really wanted some nice stripes to drape across his arm, an outer beauty that would bring back the manhood he had lost. Instead of looking inside to see how he could grow as a person and let his oft-professed love develop and mature into something actually meaningful, he took the easy way out.

He found a new woman. Young, slim, more attractive than the other one (and with the bonus of not being the bearer of an incurable disease), he grasped her with both arms, instantly declared her his true Soul Mate (after a single afternoon in her presence, if what he said was to be believed) and rode off into the sunset leaving a trail of memories and a broken heart in his wake. And as he rode away with his new decoration, he was once more blissfully unaware that he had missed the point of another Lesson, reverted to type and was back plodding the same old road for one more turn of the Great Wheel. His emotional immaturity had won the day.

The mirror does not show us who we really are, it merely shows us our own perspective of ourselves. The real mirror is in the eyes of those who see us, and see inside us to where our insecurities and flaws lie. We shouldn't be attracted to people for their perfections, we should love them for their imperfections. Anything else is pointless, isn't it? But if they aren't going to learn their Lessons and grow spiritually as they encounter Life then they may as well have not been here at all this time around. We can lie to ourselves but we cannot escape our inner truths, or our Karma.

Poor Nicky. Gotta love him. Dontcha? All he wants is for eveyone to love him.

The seemingly drab and uninspiring plumage of the owl hides the true wisdom of the beast. Wisdom doesn't need a flash wrapping and pretty stripes; it carries a far greater and less easily replicated worth.

It's value is priceless.

Nothing like a bit of pocket wisdom to brighten up your day, is there? I think that in my hubris I'll call the new blog - "The Weekly Wedge of Wisdom".Now you can have the thin end of it any time you want. Gratis.

~~ "Got enough guilt to start my own Religion" - Tori Amos ~~

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