Eric Forbes

“Be the change you want to see in the world.”
— Mahatma Gandhi

I’ve been thinking a lot about this phrase. “Be the change” seems to be so different, worlds apart from “change the world” which is how I normally think of approaching life.

One step further, for me, is to replace the word change with the word man so that I would:

Be the man I want to see in the world.

Being the change is broad. How does one become the change exactly? In attempting to answer that question, I overlaid my current dilemma – how do I find a man, a partner, a soul-brother who’s walking his path, becoming all that he can be?

Be the change + Find the man = Be the man.

Simple, right? I think so. It’s radical for me to spend time investing in my own well-being first. I have felt more comfortable being there for another person, and being gay, this generally simplifies to another man, gay or straight. That part never matters. I would do most anything for a man I care about long before I’d think of doing the same for me. The idea of giving and being devoted came naturally. I never questioned putting the needs of others – as I saw them – first.

Until lately. I read his books, have lost 15 lbs on his “slow carb diet” – Tim Ferris is on to something. Perhaps there is something profound in the idea of taking care of yourself first: mind, body, sex, lifestyle. Before doing it for someone else. What’s wrong with that. Too self-centered? If I’m sensitive to criticism, I’ll do things to make people love me. They’ll love me until they resent me for doing things for them! Amazing, yet true!

When launching out on my own path, seeking my own rewards and excitement, there’s been some tension and fear. What if I do something and fail? Fail better. What if someone rejects me or my offer? Ask again. Or better, make a proposition. Making proposals instead of asking for permission is a refinement that makes my spine tingle with excitement. I’ll run experiments on myself, and let the results speak for themselves. Or try to change someone else for the better (as I see it) and watch the fireworks light up your romantic night sky. No thanks! [Let's get scattered for awhile...]

Romance is terrific, don’t get me wrong.
I’d trade these lonely nights for red wine and song.
Looking back, a sensual strand of moments,
once bound together on a string,
Now squirreling across the floor.

Hemmed-together-yet-shifting,
each time I visit them.
Mocking my observations.
Shifting, fading, dramatically flaring into view.

Was it the act of penetration,
the silky softness of your skin
the manly husk of your voice?
I’m grazing your chest, after a long night’s rest?

In the end, none of it matters.
It happened and just that fast, it’s gone.
These moments have passed.
And before long, another moment arrives.

Can you see me now? That’s the question.

//

While I’m officially not looking for a partner, a boyfriend, my long lost gay brother, in so many ways, I’ve already met several men who fit these needs, regardless of the fact that they are not bedding down with me now. Perhaps the idea of keeping a man to myself, even in a modern open relationship consumes so much energy, and the rewards for the endeavor are so minimal lately.  My heart remains open to certain things, but not to the idea of giving another man control over my destiny. No [other] man needs that much control. So I’m doing what I always do between relationships: throwing myself back into my work, discovering new ways of being, and resuming some things I put to the side when a wild stallion came to run with me for awhile.

It was a nice break. I happened so quickly, so effortlessly. I miss how easy it used to be. He taught me to slow down. And for those that know me, that’s not easy to do. There’s no doubt I loved him, love him still. And yet, I take from it the spell he cast on me, and bring it into my waking hours. I take the concept of slowing down and hold it, embody it, breathe and relax into it, and sense myself changing, becoming larger, stronger and more expansive.

To write that relationship off the books as a loss would be cruel, and inaccurate. I revise my ledger. I put it back in the assets column, and realize the futility of tallying a romance. It’s not easy. Nor should it be.

But becoming my own man is something I can do. I can use the men in the world I look up to as examples, mentors and guides to doing something better in my own body right now. Instead of hoping to be in a relationship with Channing Tatum (for example) I can sense my desire to dance and do an unsupported handstand like he does. These are simple things. Vain perhaps. But inside me, I sense a close kinship with these men, some I may never meet, and my imagination grasps something tangible and real. Not the idea of having them in a relationship, per se – that is clearly out of my immediate control. But becoming a man like the man I see in them. Taking on parts of their character, of their abilities, of their grace and demeanor, and mixing it with my own flesh and soul. Maintaining control.

Growing and becoming – the man I want to see in the world.