As I awakened very early this morning, for one of those ungodly pre-dawn visits to the bathroom, I was aware that I had been dreaming of writing a blog post entitled “Dreams & Confessions.” At the time, I remember being quite clear on how the essay would go. Of course, I went right back to sleep, got up a couple of hours later, and all that had stuck with me was the title. So, what I’ve done right here, right now, is to sit down at the keyboard to see if my fingers are able to fill in the blanks...

An extremely vague memory of my dream-time last night is a snapshot of an experience that is, well, really just a dream. The scene is one where I am walking down the sidewalk with a young woman I feel very close to. As we are about to cross the street at an intersection, I reach to take her hand just as she simultaneously reaches out for mine. The unusual thing about the gesture is, I realize, this is the first time we’ve touched. And we’ve both decided to do it for the first time - at the same time. We take each other’s hand, look each other in the eye, and both smile radiantly.

And that’s the sum total of my memory of the dream.

I don’t know who she is. Or, if in the dream, I am the same (younger) age as she, or if I am the age I am now. Or where we are. Or how we know each other. Or why we’re together on this particular sunny afternoon.

This small slice of time reminds me a little bit of the one described by “Sam” (Tom Hanks) in Sleepless in Seattle. Sam said, “I don’t know. When I met her, it was so clear. I just knew. You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you’re home. It’s almost like...Magic.”

So, if that’s the dream part of this essay...what could I possibly have to confess?

Well: that I believe Magic Happens? It would seem that I’ve already confessed that. Just recently, in fact.

So, I guess I could further confess that I have wide-awake fantasies (not just dreams) of this kind a lot. For as many years now that I’ve been alone, and as much as I try to talk myself into believing that I’m OK alone...well, I would prefer not to be. And at no time of year is it more difficult to have these kinds of magical fantasies than the holidays.

At this time of year, especially, I think about having someone’s hand to hold. To have somebody to help me warm my feet at night. And someone to share life, love and presents with on Christmas Eve.

This I confess.

During the span of the three-plus years I’ve been blogging, I have offered an ongoing discussion about various aspects of my health. Most of those musings have had to do with my struggles with chronic pain, especially in the aftermath of my job loss in 2004. This entry is a very brief follow-up to my July 7 report entitled “On Vibrancy and Health.”

As you know, I’ve led a roller-coaster type of emotional existence with regard to my physical well-being – as I’ve explored a variety of alternative therapies and approaches to cope with my body-wide muscular pain. My condition is one that modern “Western medicine” has been totally unable to diagnose or assist with.

Last Saturday, my Feldenkrais practitioner declared that I looked “good” and “healthy” – repeating observations that she’d been making in recent weeks. We’ve been working together for a year now, during which time I have admittedly made remarkable progress. Additionally, she offered the opinion that not only do I look healthy, but that I am healthy.

I believe that she’s right. I no longer have pain as the primary identifier of who I am. I am a basically-healthy person who experiences some pain. I am not a person whose life is dominated by pain and pain-control.

Of course, I have to be careful. I attend to, and nurture, my physical health as much as anyone I know. I watch closely what I put into my body and stay away from “junk.” I have a regimen of dietary supplements that I won’t do without. I take hot baths, go to Jazzercise classes and Feldenkrais lessons, walk every day (about eight months a year, anyway), and do stretches & movements morning and evening to focus on relaxing my irritable muscles. I keep a regular schedule and make sure I get enough sleep.

Fortunately, along with all of this, I live in a geography and inhabit a living-space that I feel comfortable with. And, I have a mostly-stable and supportive work environment that has made a huge difference in my life.

Things, right now, seem to be working on a personal level. Now, if the economy would just start to turn around and offer the world a little more hope, that would be great...

News reports circulated yesterday regarding the latest research on the topic of “happiness.” As it turns out, empirical data now exist to support the notion that your emotional state is influenced, to a measureable degree, by those around you. Given that I’ve long hypothesized that anxiety is a contagious condition, it’s no stretch at all for me to imagine that happiness is as well. It seems that the closer you are geographically to a happy person the more likely you are to be happy. However, for the happiness to be “spread,” the connection you have with the other person needs to be mediated by face-to-face contact. Not technology.

Interesting.

I recently wrote on the topic of “Digital Intimacy” where I suggested that a social networking site (and the “ambient awareness” of others) is a way for a person to feel less alone. The implication of feeling “less alone” is, naturally, to be “more happy.” (At least I think that’s the way it should work.)

Although I was long-involved in “social networking” before I even knew what the term meant, I had resisted signing up for Facebook (or anything similar) for quite a long time. However, my experience is that being first on Facebook, and now on Twitter, has led to me feeling more connected. And happier.

I have to admit, though, it’s face-to-face encounters that really do the most for me. And while “digital intimacy” is something we can all now settle for, it really is a shallow imitation of “real” intimacy.

And what is “real”? For me, intimacy it is a sense of closeness and connectedness involving trust and vulnerability – in essence, the ability of two people to share themselves completely (or nearly so) with each other. While many individuals tend to think of intimacy in terms of the physical dimension, I tend to view intimacy more in emotional terms. And for two people to be truly emotionally connected, I suggest is has to be in person.

Emailing and/or tweeting is all well and good. But in those mediums, I can’t listen to your tone of voice, look you in the eye, gently touch your knee while making a point, or hug you when we part. These are the elements of human interaction that lead me to feeling truly, intimately connected. And happy.

One Friday evening, during the summer of 1998 in Corvallis, Oregon, I was just starting a personal-growth weekend. I had not been feeling well all day, especially as the afternoon and early evening progressed, but I decided I would participate in the workshop anyway. About an hour into the evening, I left the group and went to the restroom...and experienced a very big surprise when I began to pee pure blood. (Hang with me here, the story will get better. I promise.)

I’ll skip the really gory details, but I did end up spending the entire night in the emergency room of Good Samaritan Hospital. I was probed, tested, monitored and examined by not only the ER doc (who looked like he was in junior high school) but by the on-call urologist. Even before the consultation with the urologist, however, Doogie Howser had a diagnosis for me: bladder cancer. He informed me of his diagnosis while standing on the other side of the room, slipping the word “carcinoma” into the conversation as if I wouldn’t notice, while he was visibly backing away from me toward the door. What a piece of work this guy was!

When I clarified that he was actually telling me I had CANCER, I informed him... “well, it’s at times like these that I tend to experience high anxiety. A good, strong sedative would really be appropriate right now.” He obliged. And, a little while after it kicked in, I was a lot more relaxed...even good humored and tending toward the philosophical. I remarked to “C” – who was with me at the workshop and had taken me to the hospital – “well, see, this is why I get up every morning...you just never know what’s going to happen on any given day.”

Now, at this point, I had just been diagnosed with cancer. A little while later, the urologist would agree with Doogie’s diagnosis. Here I was, my life about to take a dramatic downward turn, and I was joking. Actually, the drug was simply allowing me to be relaxed enough to act as a truth serum. I really was espousing my philosophy of life: you never know what the coming day will bring. You might as well embrace it when it comes.

Shit really does happen, though...and sometimes it is just terribly difficult to be all that happy about it. Thankfully, for me, that night the doctors were wrong. I did not have bladder cancer, as a procedure in an urologist’s office two days later would confirm. (Apparently, I had merely passed a kidney stone.)

Sometimes, of course, totally delightful things happen when you least expect them to. I had an example of that yesterday when I went to a local Starbucks to do some writing. My “usual spot” in the store was taken, so I put my computer bag down at the next table. I went to the counter to order my tea, then returned to my seat and set up my machine. As I was settling in, the woman sitting at “my” table remarked on the Apple logo I had placed on my Dell PC, and started asking me some questions about the relative merits of PC laptops vs. Macs. (She is going to buy a new computer soon.)

Well, one thing led to another. I learned she was a blogger, so I asked for her web address and I looked it up while we talked (across tables). We continued talking like that for a bit, but then, as the conversation went on, I invited her to sit at my table. We eventually shared much of our personal biographies, including a number of stories of family and relationship issues -- topics that tend to really expose a lot about a person. She was (is) an exceptional listener, and didn’t back away from eye contact. She was non-judgmental in her approach...as I was feeling really listened to and totally accepted. We covered many other topics as well, such as inclusion and human touch and letting go. Our conversation rambled all over the place: for a total of three hours, during which time I didn’t look at my watch even once.

She eventually had to leave. She was meeting her father for dinner. And, then she had plans to drive back home to Los Angeles this morning. Which is what I’m assuming she’s doing right now as I write this.

You just never know, though...what any day is going to bring. Yesterday brought a little bit of magic into this otherwise drab life of mine.

Soundtrack Suggestion

If you believe in magic, come along with me
Well dance until morning ’til there’s just you and me
And maybe, if the music is right
I’ll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night
And we’ll go dancing, baby, then you’ll see
How the magic’s in the music and the music’s in me

 (“Do You Believe in Magic” – The Lovin’ Spoonful)

Wikipedia states that Marin County, California, has, according to the 2000 census, the highest per capita income in the country and the third highest mean personal income. (Yeah. I don’t exactly know the difference either.) I’m not sure whether or not these data hold true in 2008. Whatever our actual rank, however, there’s no denying that I now live in one of the wealthiest places on earth. (Of course, you can’t count Dubai.) And, the abundant natural beauty of Oregon notwithstanding, it’s likely I now live in about the most gorgeous place I’ve ever been.

One of the facts of life here is that everything costs more. Sometimes a lot more. When I moved to Marin in July 2007, I was a victim of extreme sticker shock. My rent here is 250% of my last place in Oregon. (Of course, the view from my patio is incredible.) I still often cringe when I check out at the grocery store. And it’s been my experience that restaurant eating is outrageous.

Another element of life in Marin is that you don’t really see that many homeless people. When you take a trip into the city, of course, that’s a whole different story. But here...they’re largely invisible.

However, as I mentioned in my last essay, times are changing. Even here, evidence of the current economic crisis exists. At an intersection in the northern part of the county yesterday, I saw a man standing, with his dog, holding a sign that said “FORECLOSED. EVICTED.” (Along with some other smaller print that I could not read.) As I was driving, passing by him at the corner, I handed him some cash...something I admit: I do not normally do.

I filled up my car with gas yesterday, too. Now, because I live so very close to work, and don’t do that much other driving these days, I fill up only once about every three or four weeks. Two fill-ups ago, I paid $4.51/gallon. Yesterday, I paid $2.11. Yes, I filled up my tank for less that 50% of what it cost me in early October.

I also saw a front-page article in the San Francisco Chronicle yesterday which reported the state’s unemployment rate had risen to 8.2% in October, up from 7.7% in September and 5.7% in October 2007. Here in the Bay Area things are not quite as bad, with the unemployment rate for San Francisco at 6.0% and in Marin County, 4.9%.

Of course, what the stock market has done to my plans for retirement has been incredibly emotional to deal with. It was going to be tough enough anyway...now...who knows? “Retirement” may forever remain only a vague theoretical construct in my life.

Still, I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know: we’re in deep economic doo-doo in this county. And it’s going to take herculean efforts to dig our way out. I have faith that our new leadership, coming into office on January 20, is up to the task. In the meantime, I fear things are probably going to get a lot worse before they get better.

It’s been three full years since my first blog entry on Thanksgiving Day 2005. As I reflect on the Thanksgiving holiday coming up this week, I’m thankful for the supportive people in my life (including my new Twitter “friends”), that my health continues to improve (there’s evidence of getting stronger and stronger every week), that I remain employed, and that I live in such a blessedly beautiful part of the world.

Finally, during this holiday week, special love and hugs go out to Browyn & Corey, Grace & Kaleb, Tobin & Tanya, Ryan & Colby, Anne & Pete. And to my soul-mate in Portland; you know who you are.