Man

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Shades of Love

Published June 30, 2020 by tindertender

One of my favorite things to do is listen to the masculine sing songs of love and pretend he’s singing to me. It makes me smile, knowing that somewhere out there, someone would love to sing to me songs of love … and so I strengthen this knowing by inviting it into my daily living.

Robert Bassett is a new find of mine, and I love his songs. I have a few favorites I’ll share here.

I hope they bring you as much pleasure as they do me.

Core Of Man

Published May 25, 2020 by tindertender

Unseen but seeing, unheard but hearing, unperceived but perceiving, unknown but knowing … This is thy Self, the ruler within, the immortal.

~ One of India’s ancient seers

……………………………………..

O I could sing such grandeur’s and glories about you!

You have not known what you are, you have slumbered upon yourself all your life.

The mockeries are not you;

Underneath them and within them I see you lurk.

Whoever you are, claim your own.

~ Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass

……………………………………..

Man, as he really is, and as he eternally has been and shall be, is a spiritual being. Life in the physical body does not detract from the truth of this statement.

Heaven lies all about us, not only during the innocent days of infancy, but every moment of existence, yet we know it not.

It is somewhat ironical that mans very self – his true nature – has become a secret in these days.

Wrapped in the folds of our own nature hides a rare jewel, though we know it not. None has dared to set a price upon it, nor will any ever dare to do so, for its value is beyond all things of known worth.

~ Excerpts from “The Secret Path” by Paul Brunton

Photo: https://unsplash.com/@aoddeh

Line Of Duty Death and Our Agency’s Condolence

Published March 25, 2020 by tindertender

It is with a heavy heart that I am informing you of the loss of Trooper Justin R. Schaffer, Badge #646.

Justin passed away today, March 24, 2020, at the age of 28 after serving 7 years with the State Patrol. Justin was fatally struck by a vehicle when placing spike strips down on Interstate 5 in Chehalis. He is survived by his wife, Sandra, his mother and father Sheila and Glenn and his brother Brandon, and his K9 partner Frankie.

Our hearts go out to this grieving family and we recognize the unique sacrifice this family has offered as Justin’s father, Glenn is currently the Chief of Police in the city of Chehalis.

Justin was born on January 30, 1992, in Glenwood Springs, CO. He graduated from Adna High School in Adna, Washington. Justin received a degree in Criminal Justice from Centralia College.

He began working for the Washington State Patrol on November 12, 2013, as a Trooper Cadet assigned to the Property Management Division.

On January 13, 2014, Justin started his training with the 27th Arming Class. On February 14, 2014, Justin continued his training with the 103rd Trooper Basic Training Class and was commissioned on September 16, 2014, assigned to Morton. On September 1, 2016, Justin was assigned as a certified Drug Recognition Expert. On November 10, 2018, Justin completed K9 training and was a certified K9 handler to his partner “Frankie.” On December 13, 2018, Justin transferred to Chehalis.

Justin is the 30thmember of the Washington State Patrol family to die in the line of duty in our 99 years of service to this state. We must pause and reflect on the character that each of those men and women exhibited as they put on the uniform of their state’s guardians and each day walked into unknown dangers with well-known courage.

In his last moments on the earth, he was wearing that uniform and we will never forget him. Never…

A memorial service is pending. Due to the Covid 19 restrictions on public gatherings, the Washington State Patrol will work with the family and consider how to best move forward in honoring our lost Trooper appropriately. We will make that information available to you in the days to come. Agency personnel are authorized to wear morning bands until the conclusion of a memorial service. For now, bow your head in sadness and feel the beating of your proud heart for this fallen hero.

The words service, sacrifice, and humility each have a renewed definition. His willingness to face danger to ensure the safety of others was and will always be the standard for us all.

Chief John R. Batiste
Washington State Patrol
PO Box 42601
Olympia WA 98504-2601
Phone (360) 596-4101
“Service with Humility”

I talked to a man today

Published March 20, 2020 by tindertender

Shared by: Bridget Faulkner

I talked with a man today, an 80+ year old man. I asked him if there was anything I can get him while this Coronavirus scare was gripping America.

He simply smiled, looked away and said:

“Let me tell you what I need! I need to believe, at some point, this country my generation fought for… I need to believe this nation we handed safely to our children and their children…

I need to know this generation will quit being a bunch of sissies…that they respect what they’ve been given…that they’ve earned what others sacrificed for.”

I wasn’t sure where the conversation was going or if it was going anywhere at all. So, I sat there, quietly observing.

“You know, I was a little boy during WWII. Those were scary days. We didn’t know if we were going to be speaking English, German or Japanese at the end of the war. There was no certainty, no guarantees like Americans enjoy today.

And no home went without sacrifice or loss. Every house, up and down every street, had someone in harm’s way. Maybe their Daddy was a soldier, maybe their son was a sailor, maybe it was an uncle. Sometimes it was the whole damn family…fathers, sons, uncles…

Having someone, you love, sent off to war…it wasn’t less frightening than it is today. It was scary as Hell. If anything, it was more frightening. We didn’t have battle front news. We didn’t have email or cellphones. You sent them away and you hoped…you prayed. You may not hear from them for months, if ever. Sometimes a mother was getting her son’s letters the same day Dad was comforting her over their child’s death.

And we sacrificed. You couldn’t buy things. Everything was rationed. You were only allowed so much milk per month, only so much bread, toilet paper. EVERYTHING was restricted for the war effort. And what you weren’t using, what you didn’t need, things you threw away, they were saved and sorted for the war effort. My generation was the original recycling movement in America.

And we had viruses back then…serious viruses. Things like polio, measles, and such. It was nothing to walk to school and pass a house or two that was quarantined. We didn’t shut down our schools. We didn’t shut down our cities. We carried on, without masks, without hand sanitizer. And do you know what? We persevered. We overcame. We didn’t attack our President, we came together. We rallied around the flag for the war. Thick or thin, we were in it to win. And we would lose more boys in an hour of combat than we lose in entire wars today.”

He slowly looked away again. Maybe I saw a small tear in the corner of his eye. Then he continued:

“Today’s kids don’t know sacrifice. They think a sacrifice is not having coverage on their phone while they freely drive across the country. Today’s kids are selfish and spoiled. In my generation, we looked out for our elders. We helped out with single moms who’s husbands were either at war or dead from war. Today’s kids rush the store, buying everything they can…no concern for anyone but themselves. It’s shameful the way Americans behave these days. None of them deserve the sacrifices their granddads made.

So, no I don’t need anything. I appreciate your offer but, I know I’ve been through worse things than this virus. But maybe I should be asking you, what can I do to help you? Do you have enough pop to get through this, enough steak? Will you be able to survive with 113 channels on your tv?”

I smiled, fighting back a tear of my own…now humbled by a man in his 80’s. All I could do was thank him for the history lesson, leave my number for emergency and leave with my ego firmly tucked in my rear.

I talked to a man today. A real man. An American man from an era long gone and forgotten. We will never understand the sacrifices. We will never fully earn their sacrifices. But we should work harder to learn about them..learn from them…to respect them.

The Immature Man

Published February 25, 2020 by tindertender

Written by Maria Palumbo: https://www.facebook.com/maria.palumbo.loves; https://mariapalumbo.com/

The immature man will compare women. Say who has better breasts. Personality.

Who is more feminine. Who is the s*xiest.

Pitting women against eachother. Creating jealousy and competition and fear and insecurity.

Like a teenager, he will feel out of control. He will blame her for it.

The dangerous man will resent a woman alive in her s*x and try to make her pay.

How dare she be so beautiful?

How dare she make him want her so much?

He will blame her clothing, her body, her charisma, for making him feel out of control.

Instead of savoring his delicious lust, he will vomit it onto her.

He will hold her responsible for what every terrible woman in his life did. Every woman who did not show up for him, like they should.

You can feel the seething vile in such a man.

He is a walking volcano of hurt and self-loathing under the surface, because somewhere down the line, someone shamed him for his s*x. Abused it. Took charge of it. Did not protect it. Either energetically or literally.

When he was soft and needing and connected to his feminine, someone tore him from that place of peace.

He has been on a rampage ever since, trying to burn away his own inner feminine as to no longer feel that level of pain again.

It makes sense the feminine in the world infuriates him. Entraps his joy.

Ever since the day his joy in trusting in his inner feminine was taken, he will try to make a woman pay. He will try to protect himself and take what is his and never be vulnerable again.

Avoid commitment.
Avoid staying.
Avoid loving.

Then no one gets hurt.

The heart of toxic masculinity is pain.

“Why would you want me? I do not want me. I only cause harm.”

Toxic masculinity stems from the wounded sweet boy, that no one was tending to.

The confused child whose delicate innocence was smashed by people who should have known better.

This is why he cannot trust his desire. This is why he is haunted by his lust.

As a woman, it is not your job to help, heal, explain.

Do not cover up your s*x because it confuses or brings up an avalanche of pain and fear in men who have suffered.

Do not hide, play down yourself, re-parent, stay. You cannot figure it out for him.

Hold a mirror up to his wounds. Speak to the pain that was here before you. He gets to decide to do something beyond masking his hurt in the things society encourages men to do:

Get furious.
Drink.
F*ck a lot.
Do drugs.
Yet be a good boy.
Make money.
Don’t make a mistake.
Don’t let anyone down.

Or you will be less of a man.

The most loving thing you can do is let his rage have him. The rage that cuts him off from you and himself.

The only thing that can save him, is feeling the full weight of his actions. And then he finally has a choice:

Do I do as I always have done? Fear, hate, lie, condemn, kill the feminine?

Or

Do I reach out for something beyond this pain? Do I risk being truly hurt in order to let someone in? Let someone help me?

Being a strong man means being willing to go back to the places that were destroyed and slowly find the pieces that feel broken and make sense of them again.

Follow the thread of shame back to the heart: His tenderness. His need. His longing for love and his unshakable fear that he is broken beyond repair and does not deserve love.

That he has made too many mistakes.

To love the man in his toxic masculine is to leave him. Do not get stuck in the web of sorrow that surrounds him.
Do not play the games.

Only then can there be true healing.

https://mailchi.mp/d4e4301dfa32/your-wound-is-sexy

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