Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts

Monday, July 31, 2023

Do we accept death only because we know there is no other solution? In other words, who of us would really accept to die if we had another choice? by Kyle Phoenix

I have always felt like death is a change, not an end. That being said, I find life tedious at times, sometimes just the physicality of being in this meat suit. Of the management of the basics---shelter, food, water again and again and again only to do it again. Standing in the supermarket meat counter considering the same dozen choices. Trains, people, ideas---wonderful in diversity but annoyingly similar in dimensions, repetitious thoughts, oppressive ideals, group immaturity and madness.

I enjoy life as a challenge to paint an amazing life canvas for about 100 years but I look forward to the day I don't have to get back up onto the life "stage" and something else or nothing will happen.

#KylePhoenix

#TheKylePhoenixShow

Wednesday, June 28, 2023

What is one accomplishment you are most proud of? by Kyle Phoenix

 

My mother told me she was dying but didn't want to die in Charlotte, she wanted to die in NYC where she'd been born and buried with her mother and sister. Oh, by then she'd had a leg amputated, several mini-strokes, was 250lbs at 5'2 and going on her 2nd year in a diabetic rehab because the state thought her and her husband couldn't maintains healthy habits at home. They couldn't. I'd been visiting nearly monthly and helping to bolster them financially, when finally cousins begged me to come long term.

I cleaned the house, top to bottom, took down plastic tarps and nailed blackout curtains down, pine sol, bleach, late at night incense and prayers, visited the rehab and for year tried to supplement, manage and help two insane people. Finally, I had to take stepfather to court to get money out of his control and sent to the rehab, she was about to be kicked out for $9k in arrears. Pulled together family meetings to try and reason with him. No avail.

Finally talking to my mother I understood her desire to leave. I got an extra job at Wal-Mart of all places because I could have my check directly buy stock that was increasing in value for holidays then cashed out, had savings, and adult students come down to help pack and drive truck. My mothers part was to regularly have nurses get her up, and dressed, for my visits and Sunday church services. Because she was a loudmouth I told her one Sunday we'll just go, but I need time to get everything set in two states. Two months in, she had a cancer scare, but it turned out benign. Somehow she knew stepfather was cheating on her and told me to watch him, to not go back to NYC, without her.

He and I are now regularly back and forth in court as he pulled a gun on me demanding money. I stared him down and threw him out of his house. I secretly visit NYC one weekend to get things ready here, to hire a private nurse, and talk to mentors to see if I'm really going to try this.

I had week of Xmas in mind because court action would end by then and traveling could be by plane with her in a wheelchair, and we could settle up here, have all the power of attorney and DNR done in Charlotte, filed for two months and then move.

Tuesday I'm unsure, money/stock is cashed out, I've worked crazy to have two big checks coming, nurse on call, lawyer on call, nee credit cards for student to travel under---my lawyer was like get out of NC you're home free but traveling stepfather could create drama, get NYC and you're both safe.

I'm doubting doing it. It's a lot. A lot a lot. I go to sleep and dream of five people coming to me, realize it's my grandmother, two aunts, closest cousin, and uncle. They tell me sometime you must break the rules to do the right thing. I wake up and realize that's my fear.

Saturday night, I work double shift at Wal-Mart and finally tell one little old lady I’m going, another diabetic coworker had helped me put together a supply of meds, taught me how to change adult diapers, move a large person, clean, inject insulin (a nurse at rehab I think sensed the plan or my mother said something and directly would teach me what she was doing), wash a large person, build supply bags, etc..

I'm now near diarrhea nervous but I get to the rehab at 10pm (truck packed, students helped tremendously, 1 cousin knew plan, 1 didn't) and as I am about to ask her if she's sure about leaving—— my mother hysterically begins howling not to leave her, begging, terrified, saying we'll never see each other again if I leave.

I had privately considered just moving back to NYC myself then going back for her or moving out of house and waiting madness out.

I don't know if any of you have ever had a person beg you, truly beg you in terror, pain, fear. But I was mind blown trying to calm her down as folk are coming in—-I hadn't said a word about my personal divergent plan——she sensed it. I calmed her down told her to be up and dressed for lunch/church by request like other Sundays.

Sunday morning I walked in and by midnight they thought she'd gone home for the weekend.

Monday morning a fax arrived to the rehab director of paperwork and release forms from me. Stepfather freaked out——we made local and national news as “missing”. Lawyer and I negotiated health check on her and I, days later in Pennsylvania (it became a two week road trip....we met Ashley Judd....okay she stared at me as I waved excitedly at her, wanting to talk about her Harvard and UN work...my students later pointed out AJs horrified look probably had to do with the adult diaper I was holding after park employees closed off restroom).

State troopers met us at Super 8 and together and separately they questioned us then left, deactivating "missing persons" stepfather had falsely put out. We spent two weeks making our way to NYC.

I was committed, sure I’d be in it for at least 6 more months to maybe years—- I thought as we stayed with friends till apartment was ready. I realized in hotels that no one had held her, wrapped their arms around her for years, she hadn't been in a normal bed.

Oh, we argued and laughed, and as her adult son our relationship deepened especially during twice day diaper changes and baths.

I figured we'd have a good year...she died in my arms one morning getting ready for the doctors. Her last words were I love you, Kyle.

The best thing I've ever done for someone that brought together all my ingenuity, faith, strength and patience, as much as it saddened me, or I miss her, I'm an only child, I learned then how to be a gladiator for someone else...and myself.

All the years of her pressing me not to be so introverted, to stand up to her, and my father's chess lessons (and Thomas Perry novels starring Jane Whitefield about how to travel with your own cloak of invisibility) came to head .

I feel such peace at her death because I feel like a deep karmic work agreement was between us. I'd always felt she was spiritually my child, maybe a sister, never too much mother. My godmother told me it would have destroyed me if I'd left because she would've died alone .

To know I would face hospitals, doctors, a fool stepfather, the police, the FBI, lawyers, courts and my own doubts, has done something amazing for me—-I cried, I sometimes miss her, but not all the time. I am grateful for her tutelage, but aware that she had some dysfunctional beliefs.

I am able to say, I am glad she is dead—-out of pain—-I released then, that last week, my needs, my stuff, and realized she was hanging on to get to NYC,and until I understood she was going to die, with or without my acceptance. So I accepted it.

I am someone, who even if the love meant I would lose them, would lose perhaps what I thought I wanted—-I would go to war against nations, principalities, men and governments.

And if you gave me a little planning time…I would win.

#KylePhoenix

#TheKylePhoenixShow

Tuesday, June 6, 2023

What is something you were born into you wish you weren't? by Kyle Phoenix


Race. The social constructing of it, the history, the madness. I teach that race based discrimination is a form of mental illness. I also believe being constantly "raced" can drive one into an anxiety /neurosis. I also think accepting the constructing leads to psychosis. For instance the Purple Folk enslave the BooBoos and tell them you are now the Pink Folk. The Pinks then assert after their freedom a few hundred years later that pink is beautiful, that they are inherently pink without regard to the thought that "pink" is a labeling given to them by the Purples so you're still acting out a level of brainwashing by even defining yourself as Pink, even if you're in "opposition" to Purple hegemony.

See how it is insane from all facets? The pink purple challenge makes it difficult to even discourse with other people of color because they're defining themselves within the matrix even as they seek freedom from it.

This paradigm is why racism still grasps society, because no one will drop their race rope. Imagine if tomorrow 100 million people stopped checking off anything but other or mixed on race based questions. Then what would happen? Wed identify by ethnicity, culture, land origin but those things aren't consistently irrationally divisive so you would become forced to human to human interaction.

#KylePhoenix

#TheKylePhoenix

Saturday, March 18, 2023

To former “gifted kids”, what’s life like right now? #KylePhoenix

 

It’s kind of good. I was just laying in bed, cuddled with my wealth of pillows and comforters and thinking on what my next moves were going to be. Two books had arrived from the printer (of course there are minor corrections, but that’s to be expected.)

Rewind.

I was on the #5 bus headed up Broadway to the post office to pick up this box of books. And since it was just a short jaunt of a few blocks, I had my phablet and was listening to music but hadn’t brought along a book. So I was thinking.

I was thinking about a past relationship and as I am inclined to do—-getting a little steamed about the thought, person, argument. Replaying it in my head and looking at it from a new angle—-which was spurred by a spontaneous dinner with a colleague a few weeks ago and she’d asked me about my dating life, as we’d talked about hers. I laughingly told her a comment a guy had made, judgmental but complimentary, yet it had taken me a couple of years past the relationship, to realize he meant that he was intimidated by me. It didn’t help that my bus ride, weeks later, was to pick up a book that had included bits and pieces of that relationship, fictionalized.

This is why said gumball was rolling around at the back of my mind. I get to the post office——frightened there will be a long line in the middle of the afternoon—-no line! I wait maybe 30 seconds and hand my slip to the attendant and a minute later have this huge box in my tote bag. I open it in the park across the street and the books are brand new and sexy and pretty and heavy and smell good and when I page flip, the text is crisp and visible.

I start smiling and beaming, overjoyed.

I realized, running mentally through past classmates and friends and folk who wanted to be writers that I’m standing here with more of my books, adding to the passel selling around the world. I’m not just blooming with gratitude and joy, I’m grateful that I’m not living the tortured life of some other folk.

I made a decision over 10 years ago to step out of the matrix known as Corporate America——having done financial work, securities litigation work, a host of things, a strong resume——for education and then used my time to control my schedule and to simply write.

Write, I do.

When I was young, scoring 6,7,8 grades ahead of my own peers on Standardized tests and imagining what I might be interested in, I was writing. I never took my writing “business” seriously so after undergrad I went into companies because they were “serious business”. You get to go up in the elevator and you have a desk—-that one!—-and it’s yours and you decorate it. Eventually I didn’t decorate as much because I was consulting so there were time limits on how long I would be there. I made it a point to not get comfortable. To not make that part of my identity. For about 10 years or so I didn’t know what the alternative to that corporate identity was….because I liked business, liked the intricacy of it, had owned several businesses as a child/teenager.

I even had friends/schoolmates who sailed into CA, never to be heard from again…..until I saw FB pics or them on the street—-fatter, a lot less hair. I realized they had a desk and probably decorated it, perhaps even the Holy Grail——an office—-a room, a little room in a bigger office, that is yours, but not really yours.

But I get to—-write even this blog post—-write a novel most of my working time, my work now taking up about 5 hours of active working. The other 35 is my writing Kyle stuff. I’ve been offered several promotions, could get all ambitious and hungry, and play dirty games……but I can literally feel the days, the hours, when I write less at work. When work takes up too much of my attention away from my Life’s Purpose.

I’m living and creating my Life’s Purpose. Yes, I know when I die, but I often think about what happens if I die this year? To the books? The TV show? I then think in production plans and product plans, I have to make an Exit Strategy plan for me, in case of death.

I used to think my giftedness meant I could do anything, that I could simply focus and learn and master anything—-which I sort of can. Which for awhile provided a whole range of possibilities.

Then I found this one, good thing to do well, very well, and it all clicked.

I’m walking down Amsterdam, swinging my tote bag full of books I’ve written, good books, and I’m beaming like the sun. I start to think of the ex and friends, near and far, and how they’re going to that desk, maybe in an office, inside of a bigger office, and how I’ve made the conscious choice not to.

It’s not what I expected, but I am happier with myself, little ol’ me.

#KylePhoenix

#TheKylePhoenixShow

Monday, November 12, 2018

What are the top 3 things gay men want other people to know? Answered by Kyle Phoenix

Why do people say you have to work hard when any idiot born to rich parents can become a lawyer or physician? Answered by Kyle Phoenix

Kyle Phoenix
Kyle Phoenix, Writer and student & Instructor at Columbia University

Sunday, October 28, 2018

What's it like to be close friends with a genius? Answered by Kyle Phoenix





Kyle Phoenix
Kyle Phoenix, Writer and student & Instructor at Columbia University


I've had two friends, one dead at 34, who are both startlingly smart in my estimation. He, Michael studied and completed his 2nd Masters in Environmental Science. She has no formal degrees bit has an equivalent of a PhD in telephony systems and networking and works for an international firm. They both read prodigiously and were of the few people besides teachers I felt mentally paced and challenged by.
They both thought , moved fast in conception. Both witty and willing to point out questions and deeply investigate ideas. Their contrariness was always to greater understanding and not condescension or derision. But they patiently masked their suffering of fools.



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