The Culture that has been here all the time

We All Should Know Ourselves:

"Know thyself" (gnothi seauton) is an ancient Greek aphorism, famously inscribed at the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, urging individuals to understand their limitations, motivations, and true nature. It signifies the importance of internal reflection over surface observation, encompassing self-examination of passions, weaknesses, and recognizing oneself as a mortal rather than a god.

I was lost for about eight years to myself because I devoted all my focus and energy to caring for my wife during her cognitive decline. Now, on a storm-tossed sea, seeking refuge, I suddenly discover the answer has been within me all along. The shore I landed on was where I thrive creatively. I am back where I know how to live. I have immersed myself in my creative artwork.

Whether it was a song or a painting, I became one with the endeavour. The beautiful thing about this? My late wife knew it was my happy place.

Instead of sadness, I feel inspired. Like many artists, I have periods: some produce fine work, some fail, but I always learn from the effort.

Now? I suddenly realise Edward Hopper's work speaks volumes to me; maybe I will emulate his work, and it will become my "Edward Hopper" period.

I long for a muse more knowing that he had a longtime companion who helped him defeat his demons. Whether alone or with a companion, I shall venture forth. My little house is rapidly becoming my artist's studio LOL.

Hotel-by-a-Railroad-Edward-Hopper-1952

Public domain photograph of hotel lobby, free to use, no copyright restrictions image - Picryl description

Once upon a time, when I was battling deep depression episodes, I asked my counselor, "Can I ever feel like I did as a child once more?"

He then, and another later, wouldn't answer. To be fair, probably no counselor can truly answer that. I had to research the question and find my own answer.

The answer lies in the brain's natural chemistry, and no external material or substance can truly recreate the joy of a child seeing the world for the first time. Tried but gave up. Falling in love was close. Love can produce the right chemistry if we let it, and if we do not spoil it with resistance or by creating obstacles to feeling joy.

"Happy chemicals" are neurotransmitters and hormones—Dopamine, Serotonin, Oxytocin, and Endorphins—that regulate mood, pleasure, and emotional well-being. " AI

In my entire adult life, I have experienced a joy that closely resembled the childhood joy: Three hugs spaced many years apart. Each within a sorrowful period when I was alone and not filled with hope. I do not think that in each case the woman who comforted me knew she had, and it was probably not her intention to create the depth of feeling I experienced - yet I allowed the momentary joy to exist. I am hopeful even now.

Good morning, I slept well with over an hour of REM sleep because it turned cold overnight.  A week into spring, and I missed the start, but the flowers were not taken by surprise; they bloom around the neighborhood. Last night, winter clawed at my house and chilled it nicely. I have managed to pay the enormous winter heating bills, and since my late wife isn't here, I have little reason to keep the temperature as high as I used to.

Every day holds a promise or a surprise. I am counting on a positive in my life to manifest itself. There isn't a single reason other than a feeling. Maybe I am being too optimistic. I know that romantic visions of Europe persisted during the three years I lived in a village, which heightened my desire to recapture that romance. Alas, I no longer have the financial means to become an expat. Maybe if I win the lottery.

I look in the mirror and wonder if anyone could like that guy. I don't look as old as I am, and I am still self-reliant. My finances have recovered, and I use some of my time with music and art. Still thinking about how much garden I want this year. Still trying to motivate myself to put away and deal with clutter and remnants of the past that are not sentimental. 

I still miss having breakfast with a companion, but I wonder who would want a used car like me anyway. I really liked the Shortwave Radio in my old Simca because I listened to BBC news each evening at 18:00 local NJ time (LOL). (Pixabay photo)

What motivates me? Others, especially close friends. Now alone for the first time in almost fifty years, I am not moved to keep my house up to snuff. Never really been sloppy inside my home or yard (attic, garage, or basement maybe), but without a companion and no visits from anyone, I don't care. Another factor, when I bought this house about four years ago, it seemed to fit. Now that I am a widower for the first time, it is unimportant and lacks space for office and hobbies. Like René Magritte, I paint in the dining room. 

Reigniting my music and art is beginning to add clutter with associated stuff. Soon, new paintings will be scattered about.

I care more about my dog and cat now, too. My cat is a fusspot. He seems to ignore the cat fountain I bought for him and keeps to the old water bowl.

Yes, I am reaching out in search of a companion, but so far, there is no reason to be optimistic. (pixabay)

Ultra Reality has engulfed me. When my wife was diagnosed with dementia, the first four years, we still could take a ride, a walk, shop, and have lunch together, even as her cognitive issues grew. By year five, that was down to rides to the doctor and fast food pick up to bring home, then by year seven I could only manage some of my doctor's appointments by hiring an aide to watch over her, and in the last three months, I relied on Hospice's help (so grateful to them).

I occasionally attempted to seek a companion, and the scammers destroyed my finances. Today, I am well on the way to financial recovery.

The rollercoaster of mourning is rough, though learning about the long goodbye helped a great deal. I live with my dog and cat, watch TV, play some guitar, sing for myself, and have begun working on some art. I have a hard time falling asleep even with melatonin, and I do have dreams, some of them not nightmares but unpleasant nevertheless. Last night I was startled to see an apparition.

I woke at about 2 am to my cat nudging me, and I saw a vivid image of my wife holding stuffed animals standing by my bedside. Ambivalent because I felt love and fear, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, she was gone.

I have been cut off from dating for forty-one years, but last night I decided I need to resume my quest for a companion. What did I do? I opened an account with eHarmony, feeling both awkward and hopeful. 

I have many positive things to share with a woman, and maybe the potential woman will have many positive things to share with me. I am not sure how to proceed, living in a town where I am still a stranger, with no friends and limited contact with family. I feel I have no choice. Yes, it costs money, and the first contact was without a doubt a scammer. I had her blocked. And, unsure of my dating abilities.

Quality sex when we were 18 and later in life (like me) is not the same. Anyone who thinks otherwise, let me know.

In the beginning, in the era of free love (every generation had a time like that), connecting to a lover was easy. So many people suggested males were in a hurry and intent on self-satisfaction. I encountered young women who were exactly the same. The next step was what I call the unquenchable phase: Young men AND YOUNG WOMEN seemed to have an insatiable appetite for sex.

Somewhere along the line, as a mistress I had for seven years, I had expressed "quality, not quantity, is what I want." I created a bumper sticker that reads "Good Sex Isn't Just for the Young."

The storms in life disrupt every good thing for most people; they seem unavoidable. There is always a workaround if you keep an open mind. I gave up, tried and failed, and passed through a storm. Now I am willing to try once more. In my mind, I am younger than I look. Let's go with that.

I thought that if I went slowly into the future, one day at a time, things would improve; they have not.

Each morning, I find it harder to feel motivated to get up and navigate a new day. I know it has only been two months since my wife passed away, but in a very real sense, her loss of a coherent mental state in 2017 began the process of the loss of my compass into the future.

Yesterday, I reflected on how she and I were physical-touch communicators, and each day, despite at times feeling withdrawn, I know this more and more.

So today I sat on the edge of my bed, not wanting to get up, but my cat messed with my cell phone, and it started showing failed attempts to activate it. Meows weren't enough; he stepped on it, and it responded with a voice, so I was forced to get up.

Photos, songs, and items can trigger sadness, no, profound sadness. When my second wife ran off with the maintenance man from where she worked as an RN, it took years to get past that. Her best friend, sometime later, explained she didn't want to stay with our me and our son, with a serious heart defect, because at the time, the prognosis was that he would not live past his teens. During this time, a blue sky seemed black. This all happened more than forty years ago. I only recovered slowly because my late wife of 41 years helped me get past that. I do not have forty years now; less than 20 if averages hold.

In my wisest times, I live in the moment. Too bad, the moments are so lonely. (image pixabay)

What is Your True Language? My wife was in physical contact, and in hindsight, so was and is mine. What are the implications?

"A person whose primary love language is Physical Touch feels most loved and secure through physical affection, presence, and accessibility rather than words or gifts. They communicate and receive care via hugs, holding hands, cuddling, and other intimate gestures, which can lower stress and deepen emotional connections.  The 5 Love Languages +3
Key Aspects of the Physical Touch Language:

Significance: Touch is a "love tank" filler, providing reassurance and safety, often connecting to early childhood experiences of being held.

Expressions: Typical expressions include holding hands, kissing, cuddling on the couch, sitting close, and, for some, sexual intimacy.

Negative Impacts: Neglect, abuse, or prolonged physical distance can be highly detrimental and unforgivable to those with this language.

Body Language: It often encompasses reading nonverbal cues, such as gestures, posture, and facial expressions, to gauge emotions."

I dare say the kink community is a community of physical communicators.

I now realize much of my anxiety and problems over the period I was my wife's sole caregiver (though I could hug and kiss her), and now as an isolated widower, is the direct result of being cut off from a companion/lover. The pain of isolation and the feeling of being extremely cautious about what to do is the theme I live with every day.

Dear blog reader, if you are a woman 55 - 70 and live near me, maybe you and I would take a walk and have a talk. We may even become friends.

I am posting this because I am not gay and want to discourage males from sending me letters and invitations.

This is me every morning since my wife died: "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get" is a famous quote from the 1994 film Forrest Gump. Why? I cared so much for my late wife and had taken care of her through a long illness that I wonder if I have burned out all my goodness because I feel so empty. I sometimes imagine she is in the next room and talk to her ashes in the beautiful urn I placed them in. Miescule comfort.

"AI Overview (Google)

Mourning a spouse after forty years of marriage is 
a profound loss involving the grief of a shared life, identity, and future. It requires immense self-compassion, as healing is a non-linear process that often feels like a "roller coaster of hell". Key strategies include seeking support groups, engaging in self-care, and taking life one day or minute at a time.  Reddit +4"

This morning, I do not seem to care about myself at all. Unmotivated. I force myself not to think of lovers and sex, of travels and dreams, and I barely force myself to play guitar and sing old songs. Thinking about doing some simple artwork, like sketching faces, as a challenge. Life's experience has taught me that it will go on unless I am met with a sudden death.

Can there be a new woman to love and love me? Right now, (this morning), I doubt it with no reason to think otherwise.