Tag: My Favorite Place

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My Favorite Place, by Betsy

On a mountain trail, riding on my bicycle through a beautiful setting with no traffic, on the tennis court, with family, with my honey especially in her arms–all of these are places I love to be. But favorite means ONE place, not a dozen. So I have to really think about this. It came to me rather quickly actually. My favorite place is IN THE NOW. To be in the now is to be totally present wherever I am. To be in the now means not worrying about the future or evaluating the past.

My partner and I are currently trying to learn what it means to be in the now. So, in truth, I am a long way from mastering the concept promoted by Ekhart Tolle in his book The Power of NOW.

According to Tolle being in the now means being in an enlightened state of consciousness. Letting go of one’s ego and entering a state of elevated consciousness. I cannot say that I have ever gotten even close to this.

It’s not difficult. Do not try to understand this with your mind, says Mr. Tolle. Just FEEL it.

Ekhart Tolle is one of the great spiritual teachers of our time, and I really do want to learn from him. I cannot disagree with anything he teaches. Such as the concept that our minds and our egos get in the way of our reaching enlightenment, the Now. The same question keeps popping up in my head: Why is it so hard for us to get beyond our egos and beyond the interference of our minds, our thoughts? Thoughts just have way of creeping in most of the time.

Back to the topic–my favorite place. What I am speaking of is the NOW meaning the present moment. Put in other words: my favorite place is wherever I am at the moment. Right now my favorite place is here, trying to sort out my thoughts and put them down on paper so you all can get some understanding of what I am trying to say. On Monday afternoon my favorite place will be here in this room listening to your wise words. Oh, oh! There I go thinking about the future, already projecting myself into it. Who knows, I might be sick on Monday and then nowhere would be my favorite place except asleep in my bed.

We do get ourselves into trouble, do we not, when we anticipate the future.

We do ourselves a disservice when we anticipate something in the future. We may be setting ourselves up for disappointment or disillusionment.

And how many of us have ever completely tormented ourselves over something that happened in the past–a few minutes ago or long ago. Or something bad happens a few minutes ago or long ago and we cannot let go of it. We go over and over and over it in our minds. Both past and future are constructs of the mind and are illusions, says Tolle. Only the now is real. I like the concept.

Have you ever been in a place where you wanted desperately to capture the moment and make it last forever, such as a place of indescribable beauty? Visiting some of our national parks lately, I have noticed that everyone has a camera. This is a way of making the beauty last–taking it home with you. I am very glad that Gill and I have thousands of photos and I enjoy looking at them just as much as anyone.

But what you cannot take home with you is how it FELT to be surrounded by awesome natural beauty. The memory is not the same as the feeling itself. Tolle speaks of being one with the universe. Surrounded by incredible natural beauty and really taking it in is perhaps the closest I will ever be in my current human form to that feeling.

Tolle’s concepts are the same that have been handed down through the ages by many of the great spiritual teachers. Just spelled out in a different way. I will continue to read his books. That’s the easy part. Applying the principles to everyday issues and happenings is the hard part. But it’s a good place to be.

© June 2013

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading, writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.

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My Favorite Place by Michael King

My favorite place is being
in my imagination where I can fantasize. I imagine how a painting will make a
statement and then let the fantasy work itself out on canvas. Usually the
fantasy is better than the painting however after a few years I often realize
that the painting does express that concept. In this process the painting seems
to paint itself. This is true of writing also. I will have an idea that I wish
to express and the story writes itself.
In my imagination a meal
will begin and as I put things together in the kitchen the food on the plate
will be a facsimile of the idea with the colors and flavors being nearly as
beautiful as I had visualized. With a little practice I can figure out timing,
visual impact and blending of flavors so that the meal actually duplicates my
fantasy.
I enjoy imagining the decorating
of a room, making a sculpture, planning a trip and wishing for things and then
later enjoying the outcome of my previous fantasies. I had a list of the
qualities I hoped for in a companion. One day he walks into a coffee shop, we
take one look at each other and have been together ever since. My world is in a
large part the joy of having been somewhat creative, very individual and personal
and filled with appreciation.
As I look back on my life
everything I ever wanted I have gotten. Not always when and exactly like I
expected but often I achieved or received what I had visualized. Some desires
that came to pass were fairly disastrous and it took time to recover. Others
came too late to be of any real satisfaction.
I don’t just lie around
fantasizing all the time. I take a little time to bring about results. I also
explore what and how I want to be doing, what experiences I would like to have
happen and what I want to do or get to make my environment enjoyable including
activities and social events. But when I’m not doing something to fulfill my
wishful thinking, I’m laying around focusing on my imaginary world where wishes
are discovered, arranged, rearranged and visualized with smells, sounds,
feelings and emotions and being prepared for manifestation. My favorite place is
in my imagination.
© 6 July 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities,” Telling your Story”,” Men’s Coffee” and the “Open Art Studio”. I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

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Favorite Place by Pat Gourley

I actually have many favorite places currently and have had many different ones over the years. Implied in a favorite place for me is the component of safety along with joy and contentment. Unlike many in the world now, into the future and certainly in the past, being able to experience safety, joy and simultaneously contentment is illusive much of the time. For many of us I imagine our most favorite place often exists in our head and we find ourselves trying to go there often.

The trick for me is to make where I am at the moment, which is always an undeniable reality that should be honored, my favorite place. There is often no other choice. I rarely succeed at this but am getting better at it than I was for much of my life. Before I wonder too deep into the woods with Eckhart Tolle’s Power of Now or Ram Dass and Be Here Now or the Buddha’s timeless invocation to simply sit quietly with the breath, I need to acknowledge many places cannot be called “favorite”. Like being stuck in traffic on a hot day, or on an airplane next to a screaming kid or driving across southern Wyoming or recently having to be with a good friend who has shared he may have metastatic prostate cancer, this after decades of HIV.

I also have to acknowledge that I have really led a pretty privileged life. I have never been in a crowded jail cell, tortured or worse perhaps put in solitary confinement. I have never been in an abusive relationship and my childhood was pretty idyllic despite the stifling reality of the Catholic Church. I don’t live with the constant sound of an American drone hovering above and the horrific but occasional blasting of relatives into oblivion as unfortunate collateral damage. I always felt safe with and experienced endless unconditional positive regard from my parents. I can only imagine the constant horror and struggle of trying to get to a favorite pace if you are a child in an abusive and unsafe environment.

I imagine nearly all people have a favorite place the trick is just being able to get there as often as possible. So should we all be trying to cultivate this “favorite place” as somewhere we can go to mentally rather than always be physically present there? How often have we all imagined if only I was there it would all be perfect? Once we got there however it soon became boring and we wanted to be onto the next favorite place. That certainly has been my M.O. Craving is the ultimate cause of all suffering according to some guy called the Buddha.

So I have a basket full of real favorite places ranging from the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park to my own small patio in the early morning hours with that rare east breeze carrying the scent of fresh mown alfalfa. The smell of freshly cut hay particularly when mixed with the scent of a recent rain has been and remains like mainlining Valium for me invoking my best childhood memories. So in those situations I guess that makes my favorite place an olfactory one. Another favorite place is hearing and dancing with 9,000 of my closest friends at Red Rocks as Furthur launches into a favorite tune like Golden Road to Devotion or Franklin’s Tower. Oh and of course that favorite place of savoring the taste of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Karamel Sutra on my living room couch and sharing licks of the vanilla with my one cat, Cassidy, who eats dairy. These days a favorite place are the Capital Hill neighborhoods I walk through on my way to the gym and taking in the rainbow of flowers blooming this time of the year and enjoying the daily changes in the many small vegetable gardens popping up with more frequency. And of course a very favorite place is the state of sexual arousal leading to orgasm, that one never seems to get old. It seems perhaps that favorite places vary with the senses and a key for me is to focus on the one sense being stroked most intensely at the moment.

Not to be greedy or in a terminal state of craving but how wonderful it would be to be sitting in the Tea Garden with a pint of ice cream while being jacked off by George Clooney with my ear buds in listening to a recent Furthur jam in the Fall right after a nice rain shower and the Japanese Maples in their brilliant red glory in full view. But really I suppose my head would then explode and it would all be over rather abruptly. To be fully appreciated perhaps it really is best to take my favorite places one sense at a time.

© 28 August 2013

About
the Author

I was born in La Porte Indiana in 1949, raised on a farm and schooled by Holy Cross nuns. The bulk of my adult life, some 40 plus years, was spent in Denver, Colorado as a nurse, gardener and gay/AIDS activist. I have currently returned to Denver after an extended sabbatical in San Francisco, California.

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Searching for El Dorado by Louis

A Dominican youth selling his paintings

A favorite place – Dominican Republic

(a) I apologize this essay sounds like an advertisement for tourism to the Dominican Republic.

(b) Favorite protégé: Leonardo R.

(c) Some people would say one’s favorite place is Boulder, Colorado, or pre-AIDS Fire Island on south coast of Long Island, New York. Another beautiful city is Charleston, S. C.

(d) The first time I went to the Dominican Republic, la República Dominicana, was 25 years ago. I paid money gradually into a scholarship fund established by the NHYC HRA, Local 371, for needy Hispanics to go to school. A worthy cause. This paid for a flight on American Airlines from NYC to Santo Domingo Airport. I went to a “luxury” resort in Juan Dolio, a section of the Caribbean Sea Coastline, on the DR’s south shore, about 10 miles east of Boca Chica and 15 miles west of San Pedro de Macoris. I sat in the pool and got free daiquiris and rum and cokes. I got photographed sitting on a burro or was it a burra? I had a ball.

(e) Then there was the side trip to Santiago and Punta Cana on the north shore of the DR. Two more beautiful sun-drenched cities.

(f) 2nd visit, 2 years ago. The name of the resort I went to was the Albatross. A business woman was also there, she described how she came to DR to relax. She previously went to Breckenridge, Colorado. My brother and I had just visited Breckenridge, CO. A coincidence.

(g) Another coincidence is the 60-year old barber in College Point in NYC. He goes to DR every chance he gets because he has a Dominican girl friend there. He goes to Boca Chica.

(h) One afternoon, I was sitting on the beach enjoying watching the geckos and sea gulls, when I noticed a man swimming in the water. I looked a little closer. He wasn’t actually swimming, he was taking a bath. When he got out of the water, he approached me and said “Hola”; I got red in the face. We got acquainted.

(i) Leonardo served as my guide although he could only drive in the areas of DR where the police had no jurisdiction, which, for some reason I do not know, is inland and covers a lot of territory.

(j) If you get stopped by a local cop, and it does happen more or less regularly, you have to hand over the equivalent of $3.00 or US $3.00. One cop told me they have to do this because their pay is not sufficient for them to buy lunch.

(k) I visited with Leonardo’s relatives. L. loves his mother, his aunt, his uncles, his cousins.

(l) His very petite elderly aunt looked sort of dried up like a raisin. But I knew that was the tropical sun that had made her skin a dark brown. She looked very different from what I am used to. But she looked fine. I asked Leonardo’s relatives if they had enough to eat. The aunt and uncle said they have plenty to eat. They harvest the veggies from their garden plots and they have chickens laying eggs, and pigs, and goats and bulls and cows for milk. The point is they were 3rd world dirt farmers, but they sort of lived well without any cash.

(m) They showed me where they live. In the U. S. I have noticed the popularity of tool sheds, sometimes designed like little houses in the backyards. In the DR a “casa” is the size of one of these tool sheds. Which was fine. They were living in paradise, right? So what does the size of their house mean? And then of course the hurricanes blow down big houses so easily anyway.

(n) I had a rented car so Leonardo and his (beautiful) cousin piled into the vehicle and led me on a little trip through the back woods where they all got pretty much naked and netted some fish in a babbling brook. They said that would be their dinner. I thought to myself, “How delightfully primitive.”

(o) In the DR, you can take a trip on a catamaran that takes you to a town about 30 miles east of Juan Dolio, called San Pedro de Macoris. I took the trip, more champán, more booze, more beautiful boys swimming. More beautiful tropical coastlines.

(p) Then there were the horse rides, the casino, the really ritzy resort , the Talanquera Beach Resort, at the end of the roadway in front of my resort, the Albatross. The Talanquera had a boutique selling Dominican style clothes; it had a French restaurant, an African restaurant decorated with a large black shield, more lovely primitive art, decorating the main hotel, an American restaurant. There were three reflecting ponds: the palm gardens pond, the flamingo ponds with beautiful pink flamingos eating shrimp; and the orchid pond with a magnificent floral display.

(q) The Talanquera displayed the local art which consisted primarily of gorgeous oil paintings. I am fussy about my art. The local artists enjoyed painting palm trees on beaches, scenes from the sugar plantation days of 150 years ago and abstract paintings depicting African themes of mother earth. These paintings are tasteful and magnificent. They are hung on the fences of all the tourist resorts. The colors are rich and vibrant.

(r) Once when I was sitting in the front yard of my pseudo-luxury resort, the Albatross, I observed the passing of a herd of wild goats. They were adorable, and, like the humans, they were enjoying themselves. The resort architecturally was substantial and lovely, but of course since we were in the 3rd world, one could not drink the water and the plumbing and electricity were iffy.

(s) I remember the week before I went to the DR in February of 2011. In New York it was a typical winter. I remember walking down the street being pelted with frozen ice pellets in my face. I said to myself it is time for DR.

(t) Unlike the Mexican diet, dominated by hot spicy tomato sauces, the Dominicans seem to prefer fresh fruits and vegetables. The tropical fruits are particularly tasty: mangos, guanábanos, guavas, tamarind juice, avocados and papayas.

(u) After a while, one wants to prepare one’s own food. This requires a short trip to the local supermercado, “Jumbo’s”. Leonardo and I went there. I told Leonardo to buy what he wanted. His favorite purchase was octopus tentacles. He said he and his family would really enjoy dining on this delicacy. For me personally, I never ate calamari and do not have plans on doing so. A chacun son goût.

(v) While I was in Jumbo’s shopping with Leonardo, I noticed an elderly blond American doing shopping with a young Dominican man who looked like a movie star. I knew instantly why this (I presume gay) American was enjoying the DR. Inwardly, I applauded his good judgment. Gather ye rosebuds …, right? I suppose the Pope would disapprove, but Oscar Wilde would have understood.

(w) I frequently had lunch in a nearby restaurant and made the acquaintance of several Italian businessmen who said they were investing in Juan Dolio to make it look like the Italian Riviera. Many of the other guests at the Talanquera were Italian, some Americans, and the French.

(x) I asked Leonardo if he knew how to read and write. He said sí. I thought Leonardo would be better off if he had a driver’s license, went to school to start to learn English and apply for a passport so that he could come to the U.S.A. For me that would have been a good investment. Leonardo agreed to all three of these projects but never followed through. We never found out how either how I could send him money other than via Western Union or Moneygram.

Denver, 2013

About the Author

I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.

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My Favorite Place by Ray S

At first thought the subject today calls for ancient memories and especially nostalgia. My sand box in the back yard was a very favorite realm over which I was king. A fleet of yellow Tootsietoy sedans, roadsters, and two town cars with front seat open tops for the chauffeur, separating the enclosed passenger compartments. There were miles and miles of miniature roads and highways, bridges over rivers thtat sometimes flooded and washed out the roads due to the torrents of water from the garden hose. No, there was never any loss of lives. Those drivers knew what they were doing.

Along side the venerable sand box kingdom, father had constructed a club house from used wooden refrigerator crates. All sorts of secret and sometimes forbidden activities took place in that hallowed hall. Oaths of life-long friendship, confidences for no one’s ears but your best buddy, and a place of quiet consolation when things just became too hectic in the big people’s world.

Once that was a favorite place, but things change. An unrealized dream house materializes comfortably nestled in the verdant forested hills of some make believe New England landscape–all white clapboard and green shutters, stuffed with American antique funiture. “Autumn Leaves,” Thanksgiving by Currier and Ives, “White Christmas,” “Moonlight in Vermont,” etc, etc. Meanwhile life moved on in a post war ranch house in suburbia. Another unfulfilled “Favorite Place” is the magic city on the bay, or the drive up the coast past an oceanside community romantically named Sea Ranch. There, clinging to the cliffside a cluster of weathered cedar shingled cottages. Dream on…….

All of those material Favorite Places are or were important; however, is there anything that can supplant a warm hearth, the luxury of a cozy nesting place, strong shoulders to lean on, two arms to hold you tight and the security of another’s love. That is the ultimate “Favorite Place” to be for me.

About the Author

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My Favorite Place by Lewis

I have several favorite places, as no one place seems to have everything I need or want to be happy all the time.

If I were to pick just one favorite place to spend a vacation away from home, it would likely be Ouray, CO.

If I were to pick just one favorite place to be when going from one favorite place to another, it would be my car, unless distances were sufficiently short, in which case, it would be in my walking shoes.

If I were to name my favorite place to spend the biggest chunk of my time, it would be my bed.

If I had to pick a favorite place to spend all of my time, it would be my body.

If I were to pick a favorite place to pass the time, it would be in the presence of friends or family.

I find that, at certain times of the day and night, my most favorite place by far is my bathroom. No other place will do at all.

But if I were to pick the place that most nurtures my inner Lewis, it would be my balcony. No, check that. It would be my “terrace”. “Terrace” is defined as “a platform that extends out from a building”. Somehow, “terrace” sounds like a much more romantic place for soul-searching than a “balcony”. I’m sure that Juliet was courted by her Romeo while standing on a terrace. Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward starred in From the Terrace; The Balcony starred Peter Falk and Shelley Winters. See what I mean?

So, when I have breakfast, I take it on the terrace, weather permitting. The same for lunch and dinner. When I do the New York Times crossword–which is always a Monday–I do it on the terrace. When I undertake to decipher Laurin’s journals, I find the fresh air and beautiful landscape help to keep my spirit more buoyant. Even the sound of neighbors’ voices helps to keep me connected to all that is good in the world. When I write in my own journal, same place. When I take in a little sun–for very limited amounts of time–the terrace offers all the privacy I need. My garden, what there is of it–on the terrace. When I want to take in the sky, the scenery, the action on the street, nothing fills the bill like my terrace.

Out there, I am part of the world. I count. I feel connected. If I don’t want to connect, I can leave the cordless and cell phones inside. Smells, tastes, sounds are more vivid. I can even hide when that feels right. Even oblivion is within easy reach–if I had the inclination and weren’t such a coward.

Oh, in case you’re curious, I did not type this while sitting on the terrace. I was late getting to it and had not the time to daydream.

Lewis, July 15, 2013

About the Author

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn’t getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth. Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband’s home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way. 

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My Favorite Place by Merlyn

My favorite place is where I’m at right now. Michael and I have been together for almost two years, we do everything together with very little DRAMA. I’m in the best relationship I have ever been in my life with Michael.

We both like to travel and we are spending a lot of time right now looking for fun things to do on our next road trip.

We will be gone for 5 to 8 weeks with only two destinations, Niagara Falls and Boston.

We plan to wander, we don’t to have to be anywhere at any given time.

We will be going through about 20 states. If we are having fun we will stay where ever we are as long as we want, if we get bored we will just head down the road.

We are both making lists of things we may or may not want to see or do in each State. Neither one of us are interested in going to a lot of the tourist traps in big cities.

Some of the things on our list so far.

Explore the nude beaches and small towns along the shoreline of three of the five great lakes.

Michael wants to shop at about a thousand antique malls.

We have a list of 15 gay campgrounds that we will be near to on the trip. Two of them have jumped to the top of the list.

Depending on where we are Labor Day weekend we may want to party in Gibson Pennsylvania at a gay campground with about 400 of our closest friends.

We will spend some time at the gay campground in Morgantown Indiana.


© 7 July 2013 



About the Author 



I’m a retired gay man now living in Denver Colorado with my partner Michael. I grew up in the Detroit area. Through the various kinds of work I have done I have seen most of the United States. I have been involved in technical and mechanical areas my whole life, all kinds of motors and computer systems. I like travel, searching for the unusual and enjoying life each day.