Metalhead and Trancendental Meditation

I’m not having a good year when it comes to men.

First Botboy left, immediately after he arrived back to the states, cleaning out my closet, walking away for I don’t even know what reason.  I’ve dealt with that.  Written about it to exhaustion.  It matters very little now, except that it illustrates this point.

Then Metalhead arrived.  Or came back.  Or manifested.  Whatever you want to call it.  We started our fling.  Things were fine.  It wasn’t a relationship, it couldn’t BE a relationship because he was not in a place to be in one and I was still transitioning from the first one.  But he was there for me.  A friend, a very good one.

Metalhead, you see, is like me.  He can do the things that I can do.  He can see the things that I can see.  The war tore him up a little bit, and those things have been heightened in more negative ways since he came back… that much I can feel… but he was getting through it.  He was doing very well.  Taking care of himself.  But then his best friend died this past year… and he was there… and it was awful for him.  I hurt for him, but knowing him the way that I did, I knew better than to go to him.  So I let him do what he had to do.  He came to me eventually.  I pulled him through his first panic attack.  We hung out again the way we used to.  We had our fling.  Whatever happens to him (and I’ll explain that in a minute), I will always love him as a brother.

Metalhead, since then, has been searching for answers.  I guess that’s where we connected again.  He’s been into the metaphysical for years.  So have I.  But he’s been in it longer and was teaching me a lot.  He found something called Transcendental Meditation.  He began singing its praises as a way to get rid of the demons in his closet.  Addicts use it, he said.  Soldiers with PTSD use it.  I didn’t understand it, I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he was choosing to pay this man $3000 to teach it to him when he did not have even a place to live, but if this was what was going to help him get his head back on straight, I had his back.  He asked me to join him in it.  I wasn’t going to put that kind of money into it… I told him that if it worked for him, then I’d try it.

That was before I realized what it was.  Even when he told me of the initiation rite – to bring the teacher fruit, flowers, and a handkerchief – I laughed a little, but I didn’t see it.  When he told me that everyone there was just overwhelmingly kind, excited about it, sold on it, I didn’t recognize it.  After all, there’s a lot of enthusiasm in what I do, too.  But of course what I do doesn’t cost me $3000 just to learn.  So I said nothing when he went to his classes.  And I said nothing when he did not return to my house that weekend after, as he’d agreed to do.  What was I going to say?  We were not in a relationship.  I had no hold on him, and he’s always been a little flighty.

But then he started to change a bit.  First it was a sudden desire to move to Iowa.  “What the fuck is in Iowa?,” I’d ask him.  He could never tell me… he’d just say a fresh start.  That was fair.  I thought it was just another pipe dream.  Metalhead has a lot of those.  I let it go.  After all, if Iowa was what he needed to think about, what harm would it do?

Then he began to change even more.  For the better, he said.  He was no longer losing patience with his son.  He seemed happier.  More at peace.  More at ease.  Good things, right?  Right.  He stopped drinking – he needed to do that, he did it entirely too much.  He stopped wanting to smoke.  All positive changes.  He stopped coming over as frequently.  I did not know where he went, but, then, again, what was I going to say?  And at first, he came over still and the extra evenings gave me time to write and to do the things I needed to do.  No complaints.  He’d still come over, he was still the Metalhead I’d come to know.

The night we talked about how we didn’t want to stop being friends, that if what we were doing needed to stop, we’d stop it… that was the last time we had sex.  The next morning we cuddled awhile.  He meditated on my couch, I got ready for work, he finished, he got himself ready for work, he kissed me and then he left.  Two days later, he stayed over again.  He seemed different.  Tired.  Out of sorts.  Chalked it up to work when I asked.  I believed him.  He is – or was – not one to lie to me.  He will hide things, but he never lies when asked point blank.  I blew him.  We fell asleep.  Everything seemed fine.  And then, the next morning, he completely changed.  Woke up, meditated, barely said anything to me, stormed out of the house.  It was different than before, I didn’t understand it.    And I didn’t understand it for the next week and a half when he’d say nothing to me at work, avoided me.  My ego put the blame on me, even though I knew I’d done nothing.  Really, nothing.  And two nights before, he’d told me I’d done everything correctly.  Nothing had changed, at least not with me, between then and now.

When I talked to him last week, he got defensive… saying that he didn’t want to discuss personal matters at work.  I was asking him to fix my computer.  That is his job.  They pay him to do that.  And he purposely waited until I was gone, so that he wouldn’t have to talk to me.  I got pissed at first.  Fuck buddy situations are not supposed to elicit drama, and this was most certainly drama.  Despite all of this, my oracle cards, my messages, everything were telling me to be patient, to come from a place of love and compassion.  That was hard.  I was pissed.  But they are never wrong.  And so I tried.  I didn’t understand it all, but I tried.

And then, two nights ago, I don’t know what put it in my head, but I got the idea to look up TM as a cult.  Because the only thing, other than myself, that I can credit to his behavior changing is the meditation.  And truly, I didn’t know what it was.  I had no idea what was involved.  I’d looked it up once… read through some things.  And when you look it up by itself, all you get is positive things.  When you look it up as a cult, well, you find the negatives.

They say it is not a religious doctrine.  But it is.  You pay $3000 to learn it.  You pay even more to go to retreats.  You pay more for refresher courses.  They give you a special “word” to meditate on that you cannot share with others.   Their clientele seems to be those that need help the most but that cannot truly afford to seek it.  The truly desperate.  The ones that are searching, that NEED some kind of help.  But the scariest part of all, is that when you pay that $3000, you open your mind up to someone else.  An instructor who, from what I can understand based on my own reading and interpretation, could easily indoctrinate you with whatever it is they need to say.  These meditations, they say, the deeper you go, the more you believe you can levitate.  Become invisible.  Stuff that would be very attractive to Metalhead who is always seeking the “next level”.  (I can assure you, he has never levitated… when he’s meditated on my couch, both cheeks are firmly planted on the sofa.)  And Iowa?  Iowa is where their headquarters are located.

We were supposed to go to Cassadaga this weekend.  The psychic capital of the world.  We were going to stay in a hotel, do a ghost investigation.  He was down for this.  Down, I tell you.  Even before we started sleeping together.  He’d wanted to go here forever.  I made the booking – the most haunted room on Friday 13.  We were going.  And then he canceled.  “At this stage in my development I do not think that I need to be around disembodied spirits.”  That’s what clued me in that this was doing something to him.  I don’t know what development he’s talking about… but whatever it is, it’s changed everything.  We do not talk anymore.  We don’t even acknowledge each other except when someone needs a computer fix.  Our eyes meet more often this week when they did last week, but neither of us says anything to the other.  I know his M.O.  I don’t like it right now, but I know better than to approach him.  He knows that I’m there when he needs me.  He recognizes that we can pick our friendship up right where we left off, that much he admitted over drinks a couple of weeks ago.  And somewhere in there, I hope he remembers that.

But I worry about him.  From the article I read last night (link is at the bottom of this blog), I worry for his sanity.  I worry about what they are doing to his mind.  I worry about the connections he is making there.  And I worry for his finances and his living situation.  I worry, but I know I can do nothing.  The guides have told me that.  And I listen, because they know best.  I am going to Cassadaga alone on Friday.  I am coming back on Saturday to go to a channeling.  Because I need help… I don’t know what to do with this, this time, other than to wait.  And hope that his characteristically short attention span will bring him to his senses so that he can see what I already know.  And I know that when he does, I will be here for him.  Like before, when his friend died, I wait.  Because there is nothing more that I can do.

But in the meantime, I miss my friend.  And I sincerely hope he has found a bed to sleep in, food to eat, and a roof over his head at night that is something other than his car.  I hope he’s alright.

Because, lovers or not, he is like a brother to me.  And I love him like I love my family.

Trancendental Meditation:

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: