So Foy, how are things going?
 
Good. Work’s good I guess. I thought I would hate this kind of writing, but Doug’s got me doing some advertising now. That’s still bullshit writing, you know, but at least it’s forming sentences with some creativity. I don’t really like the job, but I don’t hate it or anything. If you don’t hate your job and it’s a good job, you sort of just…float along.
 
How are things with Suzanne?
 
Nice. Going nicely. We’ve been out a few times now. Four I guess. Well, sort of five. I ran into her once and we ended up getting coffee. I guess that was sort of a date. So it’s going along. These things take time of course. You can’t always…no one can know, you know, what will happen or anything.

That evening in the park you told me about last time sounded pretty serious. I mean, it was quite romantic, wasn’t it? What was it you told me about? Her holding your hand? A kiss?

Yeah. Yeah, that was intense. Yes.

So how do you feel about her?

Jesus, everyone asks that. I don’t know. Why can’t people just let things be what they are? Why does every relationship have to BE something. It is what it is.

It is what it is. I don’t understand what people mean when they say that.

Yeah, I don’t either. I actually hate it when people say that. That’s weird because I don’t usually...I have no idea why I said that.

I only asked how you felt about her. I didn’t ask you to label the relationship in any way.

Heh. Sorry. Yeah, a little defensive. Okay, well, she’s wonderful. She’s… Okay, since it’s you and we’re here in this confidential setting, she’s…

———

She’s…

I’m thinking. She’s soft. I don’t know, like if you bump up against her you aren’t going to hit any sharp edges. And I’m not really talking about her body. I mean, it’s soft and all - she is a woman and everything - but you know what I mean. She’s brave. You think she’s kind of reserved, but then she’s bold enough to tell you something she likes about you. And it will be some really amazing thing, like about your hands or your ears or something. She’s pretty, in her own way. I mean, in everyone’s way too, but also in her own way. She’s like one of those women who have something quirky about them but somehow they make it beautiful? Like Ellen Barkin’s smile.

Oh yeah, that crooked smile.

Yeah yeah yeah. C’mon, you have to admit Ellen Barkin’s smile is adorable, right?

———

But you know what really gets me. She’s smart. And - how do I say this - she’s engaged with life. She cares about stuff. Things matter to her. Causes and ideas. Just… stuff matters. So many people walking around and nothing really matters to them apart from the normal stuff, their car or their paycheck, or what movie they want to see, or their latest trip to Disneyland. And she has an amazing smile. It’s like the sun rising. She can’t control it either. It just comes out when it wants to and you stand there staring at it. Seeing her smile feels like someone pulling my heart out of my chest. It hurts. I just stand there, my heart pounding. Like once I saw her in a grocery store and she smiled. I almost dropped a box of cereal.

It is fascinating how often smiles appear in your dreams. You haven’t brought in any dreams lately, by the way.

I know. I’ve been lazy. I’ll put my notebook by the bed.

Good. But looking back I can remember a lot of them. The flashing smile from across the water. That woman with the fake smile in the mud village or whatever that place was. Wasn’t there a woman who kept biting her bottom lip, some kind of mischievous smile or something?

Yeah, that little biting your lower lip kind of smiley thing. Uh, yeah, very sexy. You know, I think my favorite part of a woman is her smile. Seriously, I think it is. God how I love to see a woman smile. And the ultimate thing, of course, is if she’s smiling because of me.

———

———

Okay I know where you’re going with this.

———

And I know you’re sort of letting me get there on my own. So, yeah. I get it. The smile thing. I know.

———

Okay, the answer is yes. It will always be about HER smile. Hers will always be the smile others will be compared to. Jenny’s sad brown eyes over sunshine. Soft brown over a curve of pure joy. You know what I hate thinking about her with other men. It’s not the sex. And the relationship is over. I mean, over. So there’s no going back or anything. But it’s like the last little lingering thing from those days. I hate the thought of another man making her smile. Causing that smile - the good one - to appear.

———

Love does seem remarkably resilient. It doesn’t die easily. And I think the people we love create a kind of love impression in us. And afterwards we’re always looking for someone who fits that impression. Fits into that mold.

But I’d like to stick with my first question. You’ve told me a lot about Suzanne. She’s nice. She’s smart and soft and has a great smile. You’ve told me about Suzanne. But you haven’t told me how you feel about her.

I don’t know. I love seeing her smile. I mean a LOT. Like a whole lot. Like weak in the knees and stuff. I mean, I like being with her and seeing her happy. I uh…

I…I….

I don’t know how to say this. Something. I…I can’t seem to bring myself to pay attention to what I feel and want. When I’m around her it’s like I’m watching from the outside. I’m seeing these two people and it’s making me very happy to see them. But I’m not in the scene myself. I mean, it feels very selfish for me to think about what I need or what I desire. Like as if that’s all that matters. That I get MY needs met. I mean, what about Suzanne, you know, and other people? What they need? I keep wanting to make things good for her. I’m like driven to. I don’t want to let her down.

Well I asked because - speaking as a woman I think I have a good feel for this - a lot of the signals you are giving Suzanne are, well, the sort of signals a man gives to a woman he loves or is falling in love with.

What do you mean?
 
The long talks.
 
What, people don’t talk sometimes?
 
Of course, but there is talking and there is TALKING. You’ve told her quite a lot about yourself. I’ll wager you’ve shared a lot of intimate details too. Things about your past and your marriage and your feelings. Things you are ashamed of, things you love, how you feel, how you see the world, all that.
 
Well I am a bit blabby. Kind of with everyone though.
 
And I bet you’ve done a lot of listening too. The kind of listening we both used to do as ministers. The kind I do all the time now. You know what I’m talking about. Serious listening. Careful, nodding, staying with her. The real stuff. The good listening.
 
Well yeah. Of course you do that. The first time I met her was kind of about that, you know, she needed someone to talk to. So I let her talk to me. She needed it so bad, and I was cool with that. It was just like 30 minutes of my time.
 
I’m sure it was wonderful for her. But the thing is, men and women look for certain familiar signals. Men get intimate - some anyway - but it happens at a typically male pace. Can’t you see this from her point of view? Here’s this man from work who is nice and kind and who listens. And I mean really listens. He’s locked in, eye contact, seems totally engaged and interested in her life. You probably did that thing where you echo back her comments, check in for clarification, offering occasional thoughts but not too much.
 
Yeah, I guess. Yes I do that. I did that.
 
Well don’t you see how dangerous this can be? You’re with this woman a few times. You’re telling her your deepest thoughts. You’re being very intimate. You’re like a bull in an emotional china store. You’re charging right in, stumbling around, and not realizing how much damage you can do.
 
So now I’m DANGEROUS? How is that possible? I’m just trying to be what I’m supposed to be. I’m just trying to be a nice guy. You make it sound like I’m some sort of predator or something. One of those guys who wants to hurt people or get something from them or maybe, you know, do something with a woman, you know, sexual. Before it’s the right time or should happen.
 
That’s an interesting thing to say. “I’m trying to be what I’m supposed to be.” What are you supposed to be?
 
Okay, yeah yeah. I get this. I know. You’re supposed to be who you are, be yourself, all that. I get that. I’ve told people that myself. It’s just…I AM a person who wants to be what I’m…supposed to be. You know, do the right thing. Be the right person.
 
Okay, let me try again. I’m really not trying to catch you in some ontological paradox. I just don’t get it. You say you want to be what you are supposed to be. And I just want you to tell me what that is. Who is this person you’re supposed to be? How would you describe him?
 
I don’t know. Nice? Nice to people? Caring about them and just, you know, where you go places and interact with people and it’s better because you were there. People are better off. You help people when you can.
 
Okay I’m still not really getting it. How about this: we’ll allow that somewhere in your mind there is an idea of what a man is supposed to be. And let’s agree that this man you want to be is a wonderful man. Just a smashing person. Leaving beauty and healing and well-being in his wake as he goes through life. Real Jesus-like.
 
I’m not trying to be Jesus.
 
Well Foy, who are you? I mean now. Forget the man you are supposed to be or want to be or will be or whatever that is. Who are you now? Let’s imagine that there is no god looking over your shoulder, okay? And you’re in a secret room with someone who will never tell anyone what you say. And further, this person is going to think the best of you. So even if you felt like punching someone in the face, you could say that and the person listening knows you would never do that.
 
As a matter-of-fact, you are in that safe place and I am that safe person. So who is Foy Davis? What kind of man are you? What do you really think, and what do you really want to do, and how do you really want to live? Right now.
 
———
 
———
 
Foy, are you okay? Because you’re shaking. Your hands are really trembling and so are your shoulders. Let’s stop for a moment. Take a couple of deep breaths.
 
I don’t know why.
 
It’s okay. Should we stop? I’d rather go on and hear more from you about this, but if we need to stop we can.
 
No. It’s okay.
 
I heard this voice - just now - and it said, “No!”
 
Was it an audible voice, one you heard out loud?
 
No, it was from inside, but it was almost like it came from outside. Like the closest thing you could get to another person saying it but not another person. It was when you were saying that stuff about God not listening and if there was someone you could trust and be really safe you could just say who you are, even the bad stuff. There’s not really BAD bad stuff or awful stuff but just…like selfish and angry embarrassing stuff.
 
Then I swear this voice came out of me and it just said, "NO!" Really angry and mean-sounding too. Really scary. Telling me not to say anything.
 
Do you recognize the voice? Is it familiar to you?
 
No, not really. I don’t remember hearing it before. But the panicked, furious, hissing way it said “No!” reminds me of sometimes I really get angry all of a sudden and I just want to hurt myself. Not bad, not suicide. Just like punch a wall really hard so that it hurts and I say “Yeah!” like “Take that, what do you think about that?” Or I just want to scratch my skin with some sharp thing - safely, I promise. Not like cutting. Not like anything you should worry about. I’m serious; it’s okay. But just this impulse to kind of grab it and just, grrr, sort of press it a little hard and just drag it across a safe part of my skin, like right here, this part.
 
And like this one time I was on a bus, like a Greyhound kind of bus? And I had this irresistible, furious impulse to say something completely vile and awful to God. I wanted to say it to God. I kind of hissed it where it was out loud but nobody could really hear it.
 
What did you say?
 
I didn’t mean it, okay? It was just crazy. I would never even think this. I know the stuff that comes out from deep in you is very real, and I take it seriously. But this was not me in any way.
 
What did you say?
 
What I said was “Fuck everyone in the world but me!”
 
———
 
Of course, I don’t mean it or anything.
 
I know you don’t.

I know that voice. It is the terrible voice of truth from deep within you. This voice has no filters. None. This is the voice you hear in dreams. And sometimes, when something very intense is happening, it can sound as real as an actual voice. I loved a young man in college, years and years ago. Loved him desperately, but he chose another. In those days of intense grief I kept imagining that he would come to his senses and realize that I was his true love. Because of course, I was certain that I was. One day I heard him call my name. I felt a huge rush of emotion and I turned around. But no one was there.

My voice or whatever it is sounds pretty angry.

Well, you seem conflicted inside. On the one hand this inner voice urges you to say something out loud that reveals a part of you that you are ashamed of. You became filled with a desire to say, “Fuck everyone in the world but me.” On the other hand, when I ask you to tell me who you are and what you want, when I ask you to bring that inner voice out into the light, the voice suddenly wants to hide and says, “No!” Sometimes you want this voice to shout out loud, and other times you want to keep it a dark secret.

That doesn’t sound very good. That conflicted, being conflicted like that. It doesn’t seem like how you should be.

I don’t think it’s a matter of good or bad. You can’t control these deep desires. What was it you said earlier? It is what it is. What you do with that reality - how you live - that’s where good and bad come in. But I do think everyone needs some setting in which they can safely confess the truth about what is inside them. I’ve always thought that was the genius of Catholic Confession. Because if you deny the voices within you, they can become angry. I think that’s what’s happening to you. And I think that’s a danger all ministers face. Ministers seem especially tempted to deny unpleasant truths about themselves.

Well, I’m not a minister anymore, so…

I know you’re not. But you’re still not honest with yourself. I think you’ve shed the robe but hung onto the pathology.

What do you mean?

Well, you keep that inner voice locked up pretty tightly, don’t you? No wonder it’s angry; it never sees the light of day. I’m not one who thinks we ought to run around “being ourselves” all the time. But it is good to be honest about who you are in some context, with some people, somehow, somewhere. And I don’t think you ARE honest with yourself. Foy, you’re like the world’s nicest con artist. You’re kind and charming and good natured - really you are - but you do run a bit of a con with others and, I suppose, with yourself.

I don’t…okay I’m here for this process so I’m listening. But damn. A con artist? I don’t ever want to hurt anyone. And I try to be honest all the time, I think.

I have no doubts about your sincerity. You’re a very nice person. I’m sure you only mean well. But I think you have this intense need to make others feel better. I think that’s the way you operated when you were a minister. For the record, I don’t think making people feel good is the highest calling of a minister, but anyway that seems to be something you’ve retained from those days. You feign intimacy because you sense it is what people need. You remind me of a boxer. You move in fast and get close, then you dance away just as quickly. You’re a good listener, you’re kind, you have a good sense of humor, and you’re a great conversationalist. You get intimate with needy people very quickly. Your specialty is self-revelation, I think. You’re honest and transparent about a lot of things, which lets you keep other things safe and hidden. You put on your charming personality, which is your new robe and collar, then you go about doing your job, which is making people feel better. There is a flurry of relationship activity - the person feels very close to you - then you disappear and sit in the shadows at home because some part of you feels the falseness of it. The intimacy was too carefully crafted. There was no danger in it. Real vulnerability and intimacy are dangerous things.

And now, when a chance for real intimacy arises with Suzanne, you slip so naturally into your minister persona. You truly do love to see people happy. And you’re quite willing to be what they want you to be, aren’t you? How unfortunate for Suzanne though, because she thinks you love her. Why? Because you acted like a man in love.

Wait wait wait. Wait a minute. I don’t believe this. What did I ever say to Suzanne? What promises have I made and broken? Why is this so hard for me? I mean seriously, this, this, THIS feels like being back in the ministry. Okay? Where people are pulling you aside and suddenly you’ve screwed up and let everyone down. You weren’t there at the hospital or you didn’t call someone after something happened or someone’s unhappy about this or that. You’re too liberal or why didn’t we have a baby dedication for them or they’re not coming back to church because you did something or DIDN’T do something. So no matter how much you try to care about everyone, there is always someone who feels left out or let down.

Oh and this is big shit too. Because this is Jesus stuff and God stuff and sin and redemption and are you going to heaven and all that. So when you let people down, it’s like Jesus let them down. And they’re looking at you with this tragic face, just shaking their heads and saying, “Oh my God, Mary’s never going to come back because you weren’t there for her.” And it doesn’t even have to be you. You get so where some kid hits another kid and a family leaves the church, and you think if you were a better pastor they would have been better parents and it wouldn’t of happened, so somehow it feels like your fault. It’s insanity. You know it’s insane but it still gets you. Bad.

So here we are again. I go out with a nice woman. I try to figure out if maybe I can love someone again. And I’m hauled in front of an inquisition. Everyone else is just running around doing whatever the hell they want. Lying, screwing people over, making mistakes - big ones like affairs and shit - but they’re fine though. They’re just people going around and doing whatever, their thing. No one expects that much from them. But my little “Hello, how do you do? I’m Foy? Nice to meet you. Ha ha, you eat Fruit Loops and have a great smile. How about we have dinner” suddenly becomes this evil, dishonest, you know, THING that’s suddenly this whole pathology of inauthentic behaviors and denial and suppression of internal voices and shit.

——-

——-

Well, Foy Davis, It’s nice to see you again. It’s been a long time.

Wow. Yeah, I just said some stuff, didn’t I? You know, some parts of that I might not have meant. That wasn’t fair to you, the parts about….

——-

——-

Yeah, you’re right. That’s stupid. I said it so I should just shut up now. Is what I should do.

——-

We’ve known each other a long time, Foy. Since way back in seminary.

And now look at us. I’ve left the ministry and you’ve left…I guess all of it. Are you really an atheist now?

Atheist? I don’t even know what that word means anymore. And I’m too tired to try and figure it out. But what I was going to say is that our process is…unusual. I was surprised you came to me, considering I don’t do this anymore. I wouldn’t even want to call it spiritual direction, because…

I would. That’s exactly what I’d call it.

Well, in any case, I’m more direct with you. Because we have this history. And I trust your basic ego strength. So I’m going to take some chances, follow some hunches, throw some stuff out there. I’ll be wrong sometimes. You just make your claims when you need to. Just tell me I’m wrong and I’ll trust you and we’ll think about it in another way.

So, does what I’ve said seem wrong to you?

No. It’s the rightest thing I’ve heard in a long time. It’s right on the money. I feel the rightness of it. I have no idea what to do about it, but yeah, it feels right. What you said, all of it, really.

——-

So why is this so hard for me? Why does everyone else just run around dropping in and out of relationships like it’s no big thing. But for me there’s all this complexity?

Because you’re wounded and you don’t know it. You bear the great and tragic wound of the shaman.

The shaman?

Yes. Priest, prophet, shaman. I now see them as pretty much the same thing. The shaman stands between the forces of nature and the people. The shaman carries the spiritual stories of their tradition and brings healing. He shows up in his robes or collar or mask, you know, with feathers and all. He gets close and there is a lot of noise and movement - shaking rattles, or swinging smoking pots of incense, or putting his hand on your forehead to heal you, or feeding you with communion wafers like you were a baby bird. There you are, neck stretched, mouth open, wanting…needing. The shaman is there when you are born, and he shepherds your body into the afterlife when you die. You don’t get much more intimate than life and death and sin and salvation.

So what is the shaman’s wound?

The wound comes with the calling. The shaman is set apart. He's a holy man. And holy is really just another word for lonely. That is the shaman’s wound.

The shaman always stands alone.

rlp