Category Archives: Ronald May

Under The Night’s Sky

My first draft of this post was wholly unacceptable. Too much meandering and not nearly enough point making in it’s content. Although wandering and digression do seem to be bad habits of mine in writing. Perhaps I will do better with this draft.

Let me put it to you this way, as I am sure you have many amazing memories of evenings where you saw outstanding moonrises or the wee hours of a morning that you stared up at that star filled sky and found yourself in complete awe. Well, so too have I but with perhaps a perspective more askew than yours.

I began Cycling as a form of transportation at the age of 15 full time. It took off for me fully four years later when it was my sole form of getting to and fro. Way back then I kind of hoped that I would always stay on a bike. I wanted to be that older middle aged fit guy who slung his bike on his shoulder as he climbed up the stairs to his apartment. But, we all change as life moves and we go with it. My last good day’s of riding ended in 05. This was the year I started driving everywhere for work and it was part of what I lost within myself along the way to coming here.
When this is over I will be back on a bicycle most likely until I absolutly cannot do it. I figure 85 or so, hahaha! Anyway, there is a great line in the movie Singles that may have been borrowed from someone else but it resonates and is the essence of this posting. The character say’s ‘I just like the way the world looks from a bicycle.’

So, like you I have many great memories of riding home i or going to work early in the morning and seeing the moon or stars and so many other things as well but when you are on the seat of a bicycle I believe you are more in the world and not on it, which is a paraphrase of one of the great poets, possibly Walt Whitman but I am often mistaken on my poetry.

To describe what it feels like to ride in the pure chill of four a.m. In early February and watch the Moon set as you make your way to work is difficult because I am sure we have all felt that other wordly sense of grace and wonder even if you are sitting comfortably in a car. But, the joy of the moment is uniquely different when you brave the cooling night air of October to make your way home and the Moon rises slowly and light’s up the dark roads.

I probably have fifty really astounding memories of being out riding in the night to get home or get to work. At least five of them I was drunk when I left to make my way home, and one of those five had a possum involved! I would like to share just a few that I reflect upon often here because we do not get much time with the Moon here or even the night sky because it is so obscured by all the damn light’s! Next time you find yourself flying at night and looking out a window, if you see a compound in the middle of nowhere and it is lit up everywhere, yeah, that is most likely a Prison. So, part of the punishment is that we never really experience the night sky as it truly is, hell, we are lucky to be able to see Mars and Venus.
It is not something I realized until about a year into being locked up. You really lose that sense of darkness and the feel that nightime offers. You miss it if you are like me and have always enjoyed the possibilities that evening offers. Even the simplicity of how the house feels when it is late and you have one lamp on in a room and it is just you and the still quiet, that is something, ahhhh but I digress as I warned you I might.

Let me share a few memories to wrap this all up. For many, many years I believed that the only place the Moon beamed to my satisfaction was in the east of the Arizona desert. The way it would come up and shine so bright in the dry heat was the only way I ever wanted to see it. Many night’s I remember contemplating the Moon or Sky as a teenager out with friends hanging out in the empty desert or at a park near home. These remain special moments in my history because although we see the Night Sky all our life sometimes we do not connect with it right away. My preference towards the night began in those adolescent years and has grown deeper as I have aged.

The best moment I contemplate even today occured way back in 93. It had been a month or so since Lisa and I had broken up,(this was the second girl named Lisa I had dated that year.) and she called to have me come pick up a bike I had loaned her. I knocked and this guy answers and so I am like, ‘shit this is awkward!’. She comes out from hiding behind this guy and get’s the bike. Now, I am not gonna lie, I had hopes that Lisa would call and want to work things out, eventually. This clearly indicated that was not going to happen. As I headed east back home I looked up and watched the 3/4 moon rise. So I put in my Concrete Blonde cassette and played ‘Mexican Moon’. With no sadness and no regret I let go of Lisa fully in that moment and moved forward in my life. Closure does not always come that easy but that one was great.
If we move ahead a few years I can share with you one night where I was now up here in the North West and we had a really good full moon in July of that year. I was out between Enumclaw and Auburn and I stared out at the majesty of Mt. Rainier in full moon glow. You see it often enough living here but at night it is different.

My last really outstanding one is seeing the Moon light penetrate through gaps in the clouds and shine down on the lake I was paralleling about fifty miles east of Spokane. I even puled over just to stare at it for several minutes because c’mon how often do you get to see something that spectacular?

I ride mostly city streets on the bike but when you take it out onto roads far away from home you have a completely different perspective of sounds and air. When it is only your breath and the whir of the gears you notice so many things, especially if the road is super dark and you just want to get through it. It is like your senses are on high absorption and you are aware of everything at once.

Walking also creates a special relationship with the world and if I may indulge one last memory here. My last residence was only about a mile from this great look out point in Seattle called Sunset Hill. The many night’s I walked from home to there and back are full of lovely wonderful memories for me that help remind me of why the little things that we take for granted are important to value as often as we kind remind ourselves to do so.

I feel like when we cherish the moments we have with friends or just being alone with our thoughts, that is the time we are more in the world than on it. Till next time.

Ronald May
DOC #359444

Mucking through the middle

I find myself melancholy as the year comes to an end. It feels like this previous annum had more changes as I began to reflect on it, than my recollection allowed.
I find my own place in time to be a bit banal I suppose. The middle years of incarceration can drag along and the feel of it all remains static and uninspired. You are not quite over your beginning, not quite beginning your end and so you push the rock back up the hill in your best attempt to become Sisyphus but you have been asking yourself ‘why’ for more than a few years now.

One thing I hope I have shown is contrition in my writing within this format. If I were reading this and I had little sympathy for those imprisoned I would think it hard to sympathize with some person complaining about their ‘middle years’. However, I write much of this to remind myself someday that I tried to make something out of the years there was nothing.

I have a vain hope that someone reading this can grasp even the smallest amount of sympathy for those inside and perhaps even develop a form of empathy to understand. Our culture is so carcereal in nature that anything we can do to turn the perspective back to it’s core humanity is a success.

But I digress. I feel a real change as this year ends and a sense of foreboding that it may not get better for awhile. It is just a feeling but from the perch which I sit upon and view the pieces in motion, well, I am really unsure that there is optimism available for people to take solace from. It is exhausting to watch all the hurt, anger and frustration that people feel, liberal or conservative; be taken out on those we blame for our perceived suffering. I will skip the specifics as I am sure you can conjure your frustrations and who they are directed at.

I do not know a time I felt this bleak in my life. I have mostly quit the news. I keep up with the barest of it through papers and quick updates but I no longer feel a desire to connect with an insane news cycle that perpetuates lies and offers opinion verses fact. So it was easy to leave it behind yet I feel as though I am not immersed in the zeitgeist. However, I think that is something you get okay with as you age.

As I participate to my small degree in the overall changes in society I see this past year as the one where I found the road I had been travelling long ago. I wrote about this previously but to place it briefly in context, way back in 98 I firmly believe I left the path that would have offered very different opportunities. As a result, I forgot who I was becoming and wound my way into this situation through bad choices and clouded judgement.

Losing yourself is not easy to fix unless you are willing to spend a little time dwelling in your past mistakes in order to understand how you could have gone so wrong. The analysis of the various peripheries with respect to each relationship and the various errors made were the solution to me making my way back up the road. Most psychology and Buddhist teachings advise us not to linger in remorse and regret. I understand the wisdom these lessons offer, people can wallow in sadness and not pull themselves up and out of it. For me however it was necessary to stand chest deep in the swamp of my past and really observe the how and why of my choices. Accepting this the land rose under me and I was able to leave so that I could find my way back.

Examining my life has been a grand excursion through many moments both good and bad. I have even explored alternate lives as a result of choosing differently at key moments. To know yourself, I think one must accept fully all the bad with the good. To present to others and say this is me, all of what I am is made up from all of this!

My feeling is that too often we are always pursuing a different emotion or experience because we so badly want to run away from who we have been or the mistakes we have made. Being honest with our precious selves gives us space to offer that to our friends and family. All this said so easily here though does not mean I am finished. I have begun and I look forward to polishing my attitude along the way.

In all, that was the bright spot to a tough, tough year and although I am as overwhelmed and apprehensive as others I really wish for better. To see people happy and better off means that they are to some degree or another content with things. I may mention my melancholy but to a great degree I am content with what I am involved in now. I do not need this thing or that experience to make it all better. As I said, if I can just keep slurping my boots through these day’s of my mudled middle I will arrive at my end with gratitude and understanding.
I wish all a better year to come, much happiness and love most of all.

Ronald May
DOC #359444

The Myriad Scents In Life

Dear Constant Reader,

Before me, just to my left in fact as I write this sits the book The Count Of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. Or as I refer to it, the brick to be digested. Man is this book big! 1278 pages big! So I thought that I had better try and express a few creative thought’s before I become wrapped up in this story for the next five day’s or so.

One thing I notice in here is that people rarely smell the same things that I do once we get outside. I notice many different smells at varied times of the year. The seasons provide a unique aroma that is constant year over year. For instance, it always smells of woodsmoke if it is cool and dry or just cold. In Summer it is mostly grass that I smell but there are subtleties within that like manure and exhaust smoke. For Spring and Autumn those are the times you can smell the Harbor best. Usually before it rains as the wind blows up over the hill towards us, it is my most comforting smell out of all of them because I used to walk allot before I came here. Usually at night but I would walk the fifteen or so blocks from my place to Sunset Hill which was not really accurate as it was more like a ridge. Just a tiny city park overlooking Puget Sound.

So you get used to smelling the water and then you end up in an institution like this and you strive to find the things you can appreciate again. The funniest part of all this was when I was very young I really hated the way the Ocean smelled. Seriously! The way the mud smelled when the tide rolled out or the scent of seaweed on rocks baking in the dry sunlight. Yet now, that is one of the things I miss like crazy.

There are many familiar things I can still smell and appreciate. Rain on the wind just before it starts to storm. A grass field drying on a warm morning. Occasionaly the trees around us give off a fantastic woodsy scent but I think I have gotten too used to that one being up in the North West for so long now.

You really do come to appreciate them when you go away for a long enough period. One smell that I really am missing more and more lately is how a Pizzeria smells when you walk in. I am not talking Pizza Hut or any of the chains. I mean, a real Pizza joint with a brick or stone oven in the back and like eight tables. The way a place like that smells is freakin intoxicating and certainly the fondest of my memories.

Even driving by one of the big bread bakeries and smelling the loaves is pretty decent. Or how about the way a Coffee Shop smells when it is busy, you get such a big hit of that crema smell hitting your noise as you walk through the door, nice right? Greasy spoons seem to be on the decline which is a shame but a Denny’s is close. You get all these different things going on at once, bacon, pancakes, eggs, sausage, orange juice and coffee all coming at you at once to the point where it is down right overwhelming but it is still fun.

How about a Fair or Carnival, holy crap there are allot of things to lead your nose. The smell of Candy Apples is the one I remember best as being everywhere at a Fair Ground. Also Cotton Candy and Corn Dogs, the good kind that are actually hand battered, dipped and fried. Exhaust was always in the air too because of the multiple generators but still so many amazing things to remember smelling.

I could go on for quite awhile, like how about the way your car smells on a hot day and the way the same car smells when it is super cold. The way Seattle smells in the Summer verses any other season or how about the inside of a plane, how the hell do almost all planes smell the same?
The scent I will forever love and long for as it slowly disipates from our culture is the smell of multiple magazine racks inside a bookstore. You see, a used book store smells different. It has it’s own unique smell. But a magazine rack with fresh new titles, the way it smells is next to nearly perfect. I got hooked on that smell from Comic Books and moved on to news papers but seriously that is an amazing scent.

Try picking out some smells you take for granted right now. I guaranteethat once they disappear you long for them. Expose youself to new ones too so that your collection grows. Speaking of collecting, I guess it is time to start this book. Till next time.

Ronald May
DOC #359444

Hello reader

It is so nice to be able to write down my thought’s and try to share a bit of myself with the outside world. I had spent about four hours on the first draft of this posting but after contemplating I gave up and simply deleted it. The spaciousness of a new draft can be so very invigorating to boring down and explaining yourself properly.
During my time off from the blogosphere I continued to make inner change and without going into great detail this time, I am closer now to the person I wad trying to rediscover than ever before. Perhaps you understand that already about me but I shall explain it another time if the subject presents itself well enough to be interesting.
I have many things that I would like to write about in future drafts. One of the regrets is I never got to write about Nightime or the Moon. Sounds so simple does’nt it. Practicaly a snooze festival but I hope you wont think so once I post them up. As well, writing about our state of the nation and a few other select topics that I continue to roll around in this rattle trap brain of mine. So, I hope to update every three weeks or so. I just feel like my blog should be substantive to the best of my ability for you. That is why it sometimestakes a week more because the first draft or the subject itself has the wrong feel.
Pandering to you or outlaying minutia would be a disappointment to me and so I will try to always write something with heft that has relevancy or perhaps it is something you take for granted. What do I mean? Okay fine one example:
Are you aware that if I so desired I could write an entire post on the beauty of Cheese? How much I miss watching a triple creme Brie slowly warm to room temperature and the spreading it on a rustic crispy sourdough loaf. How a small log of Chevre’ tastes as you slice off pieces and place them with something savory or something sweet, it does not matter which. Oh, and Sour Cream! Lord how I could go on about all the gastronomic delight’s to be had with that. But, as I said I do not want to bore you dear reader, hehehe!
Okay, so, now you have some idea about what is next and coming down the line. I will do my best to get them to you on time but since I cannot read any comments I shall just have to acknowledge that my Sister is probably the only kind soul indulging me in this exercise and so that most likely being the case I will just say in the old familiar way, I am writing as fast as I can Sis, love ya.
Please check back soon as I will post again in no time. Take care.

Ronald May
DOC #359444

On Reading Some Of The Classic Books

This time I thought I might comment on something a little less intense in subject matter but important nonetheless. Important, or perhaps frustrating is a better adjective. You see, I reached my critical mass today on how many books on my list I have quit.
A brief history. Four years ago I retrieved a 100 Best Books Of All Time list by Barnes & Noble. I set out to read every book on the list and accomplish it in the first five years. Well, add to that another 100 Best Books of the last 100 years and then also a list of The New York Times Book Review best in the last 120 years and you got yourself a to-do list that is huge in scope and size. There are of course duplicates and some, specifically listed by The N.Y. Times that are just downright obscure.
And so this is the system I create to operate from. One list is heavy with Shakespeare and the other has all eight Harry Potter Books. So, how to best proceed? One at a time of course and I have made very good progress on two of the lists but it seems that combined among all three hundred or so I still have about 100 to go and it is starting to bum me out to some degree.
I have begun to quit a few of the books on my lists more rapidly lately and I am becoming concerned that either this is a greater sense of apathy towards reading or if I am feeling; and this is the really weird part. As if my time is getting too short to waste on something I do not like when there is so much other stuff to read. Now, try reading that last part again and then add that to the fact that I still have eight long years to go folks. Crazy right?
My standards on the choices I make are fairly high. I read lot’s of Fiction but, I counter balance that with about one third non fiction, meaning Biographies, Memoirs, Social Observation and or Studies. As well as Religious studies on Buddhisim and other cultures and History. Oh! and travel plus arts of all types-yes even architecture.
I feel I am even critical in my Fiction. I have three groups that I proritize. The first is Important Fiction. This would be your Shakespeare, Ian Franzen, David Foster Wallace, John Updike, Toni Morrison get it? Then, middle of the road, Cormac McCarthy, Harper Lee, Graham Greene and David Mitchell. Lastly there is what I call Candy. This would be your Stephen King, Dean Koontz, J.A. Jance and other popular authors. I am rigorous regarding my consumption of Candy Novels. It is seductive to read this entertaining fast paced style often but I work very hard not to, even though it would be fun. No, it all get’s balanced out as I work through one book to another. I find the satisfaction of Important Fiction worked in with a History Book creates greater emphasis on the understanding of the human experience and all it’s interconnectivity. So that is why I feel a bit down over quitting. I rarely, if ever quit a book I start.
This is why I felt I needed to purge the associated guilt I create when I stop reading one of these Classics as they are so called. So what did I give up on and why? I will start with a big one, Moby Dick. Yes, it burns like sacriledge does’nt it? How could you quit the White Whale? Easy, I got through two thirds of the book and Melville started getting technical on knot making, harpooning, rendering blubber and sails. I knew what the end would be so, done! Next, I chucked Don Quixote after a hundred pages or so. I get it okay? The guy is basically nuts in 1500’s Spanish countryside and he decides to go wander around with some poor nitwit who is willing to facilitate this guy’s madness. I know, I know, now your mad at me right? How could I say such things about these endearing characters.
Fuel to the fire, James Joyce in A Potrait Of The Artist As A Young Man is so full of himself I am surprised he found the ability to even be subjective enough to write. Machiavelli wrote The Prince but it was simply wretched and lacked any sense of kindness which seems sociopathic. So why do we recommend this as reading for young people? The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer. While this is a great idea and one of the oldest if not the oldest popular books written in English it takes forever in prose to get to the bloody damn point! Lastly poor old Joseph Conrad. I have read Heart Of Darkness twice and I still do not understand how this is such an amazing story. Lord Jim was nothing more than a treatise on sailing big ships wrapped with a thin shell of a story and god help me I still have to pick up Nostromo.
I also disliked Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. I felt like the author was just trying to be cheeky over and over and over.
Now, these are some heavy hitters on a book shelf and while I could mention a couple that I finished but wanted to quit, let me start to wrap up to my point. Plenty of people who are way smarter than me, maybe it’s even you, could explain why any or all of these are important to the pantheon of literature. I am certain it could be pointed out how this author used this subject as a mere metaphor to explain the greater social ill of the time or some such thing. I am merely explaining that I thought some of these books sucked.
I am in awe even now in the power of books and the transformation they can perform on a life. I very much respect the effort it takes to put forth a novel or study a subject so intensely that you gather enough information to fill 400 pages. This makes it difficult to formulate a supposition such as the one I stated earlier that I felt some books just sucked.
However, I am the guy who got through War And Peace and had a solid understanding of it all. I loved the Odyssey but hated the Illiad weird right? Crime And Punishment, awesome, Les Miserables, greatest story possibly ever told, even with all it’s digressions but Plato’s, Republic? Zzzzzzzzzzz!
I think there are a ton of examples I can compare and it would not get me the answers I seek. I make myself feel guilty for not finishing these books because I feel left out that I do not understand or that ennui occurs and yet I am trying. I ask myself and I ask you what makes a book like Moby Dick so great to many and yet I find it tedious?
I can ony answer my own question this way. To me, some things are just not relevant the way they were when written. This could even include my guy Shakespeare. Some peope can just not get into any of the 37 Plays he wrote. For me though, it is the discovery of the subtleties within the overall arc of the story. It is reading The Tempest for the third time and finding something new or gaining a new understanding. Also, the funny thing about his work is that I never give up on gleaning insight no matter how much I like one story over another.
I have a way to go in having an informed opinion on an Author’s work. I made a commitment long ago to be a spectator in music because I like so much of what has been made over the last fifty years across multiple genres. Perhaps I will only be an enthusiastic book reader and a poor critic. My hope is that the accumulation of books I read will provide a unique paradigm that I share with those in the know.
Then again, I might just become some schlep who has read a wealth of books, time will tell that tale. Get it? Tale? Hahahaha!

Ronald May
DOC #359444

Remembering One Night

One of the joys of tracking back through a life is discovering a gem of a moment that has passed and realizing how wonderful it truly was. Asking yourself ‘why did I forget about that?’. A few month’s ago I stumbled upon an amazing twenty four hours that I spent with the only woman I feel who ever really loved me.

Love is really complex and it has a ton of gradients but in doing my self evaluation of love; who loved me and whom I loved, I find that out of three long term relationships I have only been honestly loved by one woman. So, that means I discount the other two as having not really loved me? Yes and no. The first woman I ever loved with intensity was also the first I was ever intimate with. I was a late bloomer okay? At that time love was misunderstood by me and so I handled it poorly. The third time I was in love the depth of my feelings toward this woman were the most fathomable I had felt in my life, so I thought.

My fears and my lack of introspection however brought it’s own unique pain to my life. So for instance when the relationship ended my heart broke so profoundly I begged once, on my knees no less, for her not to leave me. This is and was pathetic and at it’s nasty root, illusory. My first love was P and the third B. In both cases of these women I felt I could scarcely bear the anguish when it ended. The best comparrison from literature is found in Dickens, Great Expectations. The moment when Ms. Havisham tells Pip that the girl he has loved since he was a child is marrying another. She see’s the heart break in him and say’s “isnt it excuisite” my god yes!

The pain we have all felt when we lose that special person. It really does feel like you just cannot go on. Because I loved P and B so much during my three years and six years respectively with them, I felt all of those things and more. To this day, they each come into my dreams and give positive feelings in various way’s during the dreaming and to some degree I question why they still flit around my subconcious, but that is another blog perhaps.

The point of this posting is about the second woman I fell for. The only one out of all of them so far in my adult life that I thought I could never get. R was someone I liked from the moment I saw her and I really thought she was unattainable for a schmuck like me. But, long story short, I managed to get the girl and as it turned out, to really like me as well. The long term problem with our time together was that I was ignorant and arrogant of my place in the whole of the world. I did things that in retrospect I would never want done to me.

If you look back in my postings she is the one who if I could go back to one single moment it would be that early January morning in 98.

She agreed to marry me in 96 and for awhile all was good, but I had screwed it up royally by the turn of the century. So, now you have some precedence with which to judge me by. I admit openly and with all the sincerity of my heart as it is today, I did not know how stupid I was being, well, I did, but perhaps you understand the broader scope of my meaning.

I am so dense that it took me twelve long years of my life to even realize the love we had and the hurt I caused when I demolished our relationship. I was into my fifth month in “The Hole” when it just hit me. What I did and how I hurt her and ahhh, how could I do that? What kind of a person does that?!!! Of course I am leaving out allot to explain so just think of it genericaly and accept that I know I am a complete yutz for hurting someone I professed love. Love is hard and sometimes it only comes once, got it? Good.

This gem of a moment in life came about like so many of the best of them do, spontaneously. The setting is this, I was still stuck in Phoenix and I had made up my mind to leave as soon as I could but I had to work two jobs to make that happen. I got a position schucking ground beans and water for a base wage and tips at a Minor League Baseball Park-this was during the coffee cart revolution of the mid nineties. I also worked the cafe the owners had when needed. It was pretty swanky. Set in the heart of Scottsdale near the Art Galleries and Boutiques.

So one night I work the Park but the Cafe is shorthanded so, double shift, kinda. I needed to keep the place open till eleven and cleaned by midnight. R and I had travel plans in the morning to drive to the nortwest part of Arizona. The temps had been hitting 120 that June, no lie! So we wanted to go someplace cooler at least for a few hours. I called her at home and explained and told her to come over at ten or so if she felt like hanging out with me. By ten the people had really thinned out and so I had the lights down low and the jazz up a bit making sure the few patrons left did not mind.

Even after nine months of being in the relationship I was always excited to see her and so when she walked in I got her an iced hazelnut latte while she read. Now, it is hard to describe all the atmospherics but think of it this way. On three sides of the cafe are hip to twenty foot ceiling windows. The heat of the day is past and the warm night energizes those out in it. The air near the door and outside seating is cooled further by an incrimental mist spray; like produce on the shelf just a finer mist. The sound of a saxophone peaks every now and again and the mood is mellow.

The last customer leaves at eleven fifteen, no reason to kick anyone out as I have to clean up anyway and so I close up for another day and finish the tasks to perform. By twelve thirty I am done but I sit down with R and say “ya know, if we leave now we could probably be in Sedona by Sunrise.” which was kind of the point. I still have some music playing softly in the background and she say’s “well if your up for it I can take first shift”. So, a little more coffee for the drive and we are on our way.

Night driving is my favorite thing, you see so much with or without a big bright moon and I enjoy how the desert slips away as you climb out of the Phoenix area. The stars are better and you feel a sense of conectivity to everything in the darkness.

Almost as good is seeing the sun come rising out of the east pouring crazy clear light all over the red rocks of Sedona AZ. while you feel a slight buzz from a lack of sleep and an anxiousness to get out of the car. The coolest spot, literally, is down inside Oak Creek Canyon so we parked and found a secluded enough spot to get away with an early morning skinny dip and some together time away from prying eyes. Hey! It was the 90’s okay, people did stuff like that!!

By one the sun is centered over the Canyon and people are everywhere so we climbed out and walked the open markets they had and checked out a few galleries, there is amazing art in that neck of the woods for sure. By half past three it was time to go, you dread the drive back into the blast furnace known as Phoenix.

We slept well that night, and the catch to this story is this. Prior to that day I had been to Sedona ten or so times. As fate would have it I have never been back. I write all this mostly to remind myself of an amazing night spent with a great friend. I was on my way in that time period of my life but I lost direction because I forgot who I was supposed to become. In contemplative moments here in Prison, it is necessary to look at the great moments when I did not even know I was being so great and figure out how I can get back to the person I was going to be.

I challenge you to find the gems in your life my friends. Find them and relive them often because they are damned hard to come by.

Ronald May
DOC #359444

On The State Of Dreaming

A little over a month ago now I intended to write this posting. I had such a good idea at the time about the joy of first love and the impact that can have over the course of our lives.

Fortunately I devoted my energy to reading a number of books so that my quota for the year was reached. As a result each time I came back to the subject matter I found it morphing and not in any way I had hoped it would. I had a specific notion of what I wanted to say and as the topic was contemplated variables arose. So, this led to something new and that is okay too.

It started with a simply amusing dream of my first girlfriend. How could we ever forget our first right? In the dream I found a total joy with which I have not experienced in possibly two decades now. Back then, there was a completeness to my life when we were together despite underlying issues that I was blind to.

Sentimentalism is a wretched topic to share with people and it serves a mild form of torture on one’s own existence so I generally loathe it entirely. I hope you will forgive if you perceive it here because that is not the intent.

Let me put it to you this way. I have been in three major relationships in this lifetime and have been truly loved in only one. With time and clarity you come to realize what was really going on in the partnership’s we participate in. The repeated discoveries of errors and paths not chosen can have an overwhelming feeling of self loathing but you mus’nt dwell.

My dream showed me a potentiality that I must strive to create in my future encounters with women, that was the clairvoyancy I derived from it. However, you have to plug a whole lot of factors into assessing that properly, especially at this point in my own life. To be brief just imagine things like experience, children, education, psychology, calm mind, etc, etc. Combined these things have allot to do with our paradigm.

The question still unanswered for myself is how do you recoup essences of what was so amazing from the early moments of our intertwinings of romance? The reason my dream gave me such joy was because I had not been in that place in so very long. Yet, what do I mean?

Twenty two long years ago I worked hard to woo the most creative, lovely, intelligent woman I had ever met. It took a long time for love to bloom between us and that made it all the more sweeter. She held me off and frustrated the crap out of me when I tried to move us forward as a couple. The reward was beautiful for the effort looking back now and yet I had no clue that I was going to spoil it all in the coming years.

To share how we can so easily lose sight of who we are and what we are to become is impossible. But it seems to happen to allot of men. Usually with the most disastrous of consequences to those we profess to love. My first love (or so I believed) was at twenty. It was over before I reached twenty three. I played out every wrong emotion I could remember from my childhood and was then shocked when it all collapsed, dumb right?

My second shot at love was a home run, I just did not know it. The seven years we shared were the best I was ever going to have but I lost my way on the journey to thirty years old. I forgot who I was supposed to become and so I created a bumpy dirt road away from the one paved for me and bounced and flailed for thirteen long years.

I tried to find love again and was sure I had found it. So sure that I built magnificent illussions about her and what it all meant. When that relationship was forcibly ended I drove myself even farther away from who I needed to be. It has been a sad and heartbreaking walk back across that bumpy road towards the path I should have stayed upon.

The wreckage viewed and the peripheries of effect my actions have caused are haunting to say the very least. It has taken two and a half years to understand that an apology will not fix what has happened and no desire to make things right will come to fruition. I have been an insensitive idiot, a coward and most of all stupid. You cannot fix stupid, you can only examine and learn. This time here offers the seclusion necessary to ponder the life lived, to examine it with my whole heart and mind and as much as I hate to say it, this event has helped to save me from my own damaging nature.

From the place I have been to the life I want to see comes insight gleaned from careful thinking. That is why the dreams are such a nice surprise some times. It is a deeper psyche that produces the scenarios and offers me and you the ability to look at it’s meaning and see it for what it is or could become. If you attach no signifigance to the event of the dream or what took place you can dwell in a more neutral place and begin to see the signifigance, and it is all significant.

The state of dreaming can become a most pleasant and rewarding exercise if we develop equanimity within ourselves. For those terrible thirteen years I was lost I had awful dreams quite often. I became afraid of dreaming because there was always so much upset in it. The journey has lead me to here. I have brought myself to this place because I lost sight of who I was becoming. I intend to step onto to my correct path when this time inside ends. However, there is still development to be had and wisdom to gain, plus experience.

Treating people well though and giving my best each time I have an opportunity is where I am at today. Enhancing that is what tomorrow could look like, we shall see.

Ronald May
DOC #359444