…
But something happened today.
I said I had sex less than one week ago. In fact I think it was exactly one week ago. And we kept in touch. And I told her I was not in love with her. Which is true.
But, you see, my father would not have acted like this. If he was alone and a woman fell in love for him, and this girl, ehm, woman, really have fallen in love for me, poor soul. He would take her. I never saw my father saying no to a woman if he was single.
Should I refuse a woman just because she is a decade older than me, has a kid and an unhealable illness. The kind that makes you die a slow and painful death. Does not attract me physically and has no language in common with me?
Yes her eyes sparkle, her smell is nice to my nose, and my energy has a nice time in exploring her body. But can the energy, the smell, and the eyes balance the age, the beauty, the language, the illness, and the kid. Yet my father would have realistically said, “Yes, go for it!” And this is why he is always in a relationship, and I am always alone.
While I was considering how to answer her last email. The desperate type of email, the one that is sent 5 days after the probing one. 5 days in which she was probably on the torture table, while I lousily considered how to answer her without harming her too much. I went to practice meditation, and I did an exercise that my teacher taught me personally. I shall not bore you with the details, just with the result. As I was moving the energy and my body as I was told, if I were to think of this issue… then the answer was clear to me:
Yes, go for it.
But as soon as I were to stop the exercise I would go back believing that ‘NO’ was the only honest, true answer that I could say and hold with integrity.
There is no right answer, we can just chose between different type of pain.
The wise man only sleeps one night in the inn of truth
or similar.
And:
There once was an old king. The king was old and with a very big illness. All the doctors have run away, fearing to be put to death for not being able to heal the king. Only an old magician have remained. He was old, and everybody believed he was half crazy. The king went to the magician and asked for a solution that would cure him of his terrible illness. The magician explained him that he had to find a man that was similar to him in all details. Exchange clothes with the man and make him king for one day. After that one day the man would die, and the king would once again be whole (healed). A request was sent through all the kingdom:
-all the men similar to the king were to go to the palace for a checkup. Failure to meet this request would bring sudden death to the men and all his family.
Male of all ages start swarming the palace. One by one they would be checked by the doctor, and he would dismiss them all. This one was too short, this was too tall, this too fat, and this had a skin dot that the king did not have. Not one met the prerequisite of the doctor. The king protested, said: you are never satisfied. And the magician explained: the man has to be absolutely like you for the cure to take place.
Not one person was chosen.
Some weeks later the kind and the magician, were walking along the banks of the river, when they saw an old man. His skin was wrinkled, his body lean. He was dressed in rugs, he was maybe the poorest man in the country. Living of rubbish, thrown away by others. And the magician said: Here! That’s him. Quick change your clothes with him, make him king and he will die at your place and you will be again healed.
-Me? What have I in common with that bum? He is of a different age, size, and height. He is also poor while I am rich, he has no family either nor friends. How can I compare with him.
-Quick, quick do it. Said the magician, for an old ill king can only be compare with the poorest man of the country.
The king refused and that very night he died.
What has I in common with an old, ill, divorced mother?
This Man 