"here's the selfless confession
leading me back to war
can we help that our destinations
are the ones we've been before?"
[Pearl Jam, "All or None"]

Episode ten of season two of Californication was more than simply an excellent show, but some of the best TV ever. That said, it came at a time when it wasn't much help to me in sorting a confused emotional mood. It had an incredibly well-written and poignant ending, and I realized that a lot the reason I like the character of Hank isn't simply a man-crush on his decadent lifestyle but an empathy for being an adult male who feels crippled by the self-awareness that he's an emotional pygmy. To be clear, I don't feel like I'm an emotional pygmy these days, but I can still recall a time in the past when I felt very much like that. It's why I started writing in the first place really: to fumble my way out of the fog.

I'm passing a particular benchmark in my life. On the one hand, it's largely meaningless, but on the other my mathematical nature gravitates to such measurements. Given my inherent nature is also very analytical, it follows that a part of me descends once more into the past - albeit briefly - to sift and try to find some sort of... logical conclusion... in spite of the fact that in my saner moments I realize such an answer does not really exist, or would be pretty pointless even if it did.

Facing one's own mortality has never seemed that difficult to me. No one knows with certainty what comes after death, only that death itself is someday certain. It doesn't leave much room for painful rumination. Suffering, on the other hand, is almost every bit as assured. Beyond the physical, there are the emotional scars, big and small, that stick with us. Just as we must accept that we'll never be as young and spry, or that those visits to the chiropractor are likely to continue unto death, so too must we sometimes reluctantly admit that certain emotional baggage might never be laid to rest. It can be stashed away, well-hidden and long-forgotten, but the wrong thing said at the wrong time is like that bitter cold day or sudden hip twist that makes that knee injury of old act up again.

Liza-Ann will never be free of her ex-husband, John, because of the shared custody of Olivia. Each phone call, each interaction, each drop-off and pick-up has the potential of being that wrong thing or wrong event that once again pokes that emotional splinter buried beneath the skin. Whether or not it actually stirs up any old feelings has everything to do with the event and the timing, of course, but I think the majority of the time all goes smoothly and that she's made her peace with it. But then, I can't really speak for her.

The emotional scar of a failed relationship of mine haunted me for a long time, but in recent years I'd come to the hopeful conclusion that it was behind me once and for good. I was cured! It seems that conclusion was premature. No, it doesn't bother me on a day-to-day basis, not even remotely close to that. But rather, I've come to the realization that given the social circles in which I travel and will continue to travel, hers is a name that will continue to surface from time to time in different contexts, and there will be times, like recently, when for one reason or another it catches me off guard, or at the wrong time. When that happens, during the strangely cold day, or with a sudden twist of the hips, I will be reminded, as I was recently, that maybe I'm not truly cured, nor will I ever be.

I'm not exactly lamenting this realization either, it's important to understand. My history is a part of who I am. It's how I got here, and I wouldn't be here without it, or without her. My relationship with her taught me, more than any other relationship, what I do or do not want, and what I will or will not accept.

Is the acceptance of a worldly attachment as permanent considered to be on the path to enlightenment or off it? A steadfast dedication to the removal of all obstacles would itself be an attachment to an ideal, would it not? If you can't leave her at the river, can you calmly accept your inability to put the woman down?

As much as the Buddhist part of me would like to lose the teacher and keep the lesson, the latter is definitely more important than the former. And the latter has paid off: it brought me past this benchmark and with no end in sight.

No matter that it may sometimes feel familiar; it's a whole new territory. Time to explore and enjoy.