The Kindness of Strange Bears

Will collected teddy bears. (Tune for today.)

In the first month after he died, during the primary purge, I wound up taking them all down to a kid's used clothing store here in Bend. I don't know whether they actually went to children or whether the store (associated with a non-profit) sold them to adults for more cash (a couple of them were hand made collector's items, a few were Steiff). I had to let them go because they belonged to Will, not me.

Current home of my stuffy collection

I have not, however, purged my own collection of stuffed animals. Sure, I've given away one or two of my creatures over the years, including the Bison Tenniel and Froderick the Dinosaur. But I still keep a cupboard full of the most important of my animals, those in whom I've invested emotion. The oldest of these, probably 68 years old now, is my dachshund, Lassie, hand-made by Mom and heavily patched over the years. The most recent is Foxy Bear, purchased at the Pendleton store at the Inn at the Fifth in Eugene, back in February, 2022, when I was trapped by a blizzard on the other side of the mountain. Foxy Bear (who is actually a stuffed fox with a bead-filled bottom) went with me to Deutchland in summer, 2022, and to Ireland in '23.

I haven't decided whether or not he'll travel with me to the UK soon. In my chat with the medium, she told me that Will told her to tell me to buy a new bear when I'm there. So today I'm going to do some researching to see whether or not I'll be near any toy stores when I'm in London, Oban, or Glasgow. Was it her or Will, really? I don't know. Mediumship is a mystery to me. Nevertheless, it's a reason to shop so I'll take it.

Wendy Beth Jackelow, U. of Texas

Bears have been on my mind lately because of the "Man or Bear" flapdoodle in the social media world. I've actually had the bear experience. Back in the 90s, while I was walking in the wilds around my Uncle Harold's homestead near North Fork, Idaho, I startled a black bear. I didn't notice her until she burst from a stand of trees and brush about fifty feet from me and charged up a hill. (On that same trip I had a rattle snake encounter when my feet started moving backwards before my brain recognized the noisy candlestick rising out of the ground. That turned into a teaching tool later on.)

Mentioning the Man/Bear fracas suggests I consume too many reels and Tickity Toks and I won't argue with you, although I was invited to argue about my media viewing while on a walk on Saturday. It was a lovely day out at the Riley Ranch Nature Preserve, a dog free area I'd not visited before. The church hiking group is lead by a very dynamic young woman who will actually be walking the Camino with her spouse later this year. The whole fucking Camino (so NOT on my bucket list). (And I would not walk 500 miles, etc)

As I was walking and talking about some humorous video I'd seen, the husband of a former EFM student told me my brain was being taken over by the Chinese (owners of Tik Tok). He said it twice, seeming to want me to argue for my position. Instead of "sticking up" for my viewing choices I said, "My gosh, you're right. My brain has been corrupted! I now believe that all dogs can talk! Because of the Chinese, I expect every cat to push things off shelves. It's terrible the bigotry I have now." And so on.

And I felt that happy click again, that recent click that tells me,  "I am okay the way I am. No one has the right to criticize me so I don't need to respond to criticism." It's not the first time in 2024 that someone has invited me into an argument and I haven't taken the bait. This is new for me, considering that "argumentativeness" is one of my personality traits.

But now that I know so much of my hunger to engage/compete/demand attention arises out of old narcissistic wounds, I no longer need to defend myself from those who don't have my peace and safety in mind. (So, of courtse, I do listen to my Ed Jones finance gal when she strongly suggests I spend less.)

Even if a criticism were public, once I got over the initial burst of cortisol, I'd have to ask, "Does this person threaten my livelihood or life? Can they reach me when I'm inside my house where I'm safe?" I mean, yes, criticism of my writing might seem to impact my livelihood if I weren't a poet. I'll never get back the two thousand I spent on producing Sentenced to Venice so people can dump on it all they want, though I'd rather they buy one of the 45 copies I still have in the basement because of the pandemic.

It was interesting to me that later at lunch, I mentioned that I was never going to pair-bond again and my EFM friend said, "never say never" and I thought, "Well, you don't understand my brain." It's too hard to explain to people that my brain has only ever achieved limerence with teachers (ie: caring but distant authority figures) and narcissists. (With the exception of my beautiful, broken, u no who -- time and eternity, I'm tellin' ya.) For me, the moment I feel my heart/sexymind opening to another person, that very sense of compelling emotion is a red flag. If I'm feeling passion toward someone, it's surely a sign that they are completely fucked up.

What I want now is a peaceful, not an adventurous life. I've had adventure. I've had relational and workplace drama (both self and other created). I have as much need to have another partner as I have to jump from an airplane. Both things have been recommended to me as "opportunity for personal growth" and my response is that there are plenty of more peaceful opportunities, like the one I'll be enjoying in June.

Foxy Bear traveling premier class on the Rhine

And it's that hunger for peace and safety that is part of the Man/Bear issue as well as all the complaining Tik Tokery about dating from both men and women. There is no reason to court misery just to avoid solitude. 

There are other ways to bear up to the loneliness.