ANOTHER DOOR OPENS: The doorway to Room 12.
“When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.”
ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL
“Don’t worry my Sookybear. Just because you left your job, doesn’t mean you have to be upset. Just remember, when one door closes, another opens for you.”
“TWINKLEBEAR” LESLEY MACLEAN
It all has to do with ego.
I have a large, healthy ego, but I am starting to wonder if that’s an asset or a liability. Let me explain.
It seems that all throughout my life, I’ve led a dichotomous existence. While I had this tremendous hunger to achieve—I at the same time, hated school and eschewed the conventional path for achievement in our society: by being a good student.
I had zero interest in school, from kindergarten all way through my torturous years in college.
I must point out, that there is one area of conventional achievement, that I have adhered to: my work ethic. I learned my work ethic (as long as it did not relate to school work) from my parents, who worked 12 hours a day without whinging and whining (that’s Britspeak for complaining–ha!)–who incidentally, did not believe in “retirement.”
Do you know how rare that is in this day and age?
Instead of being fixated on academic achievement, I adopted an attitude of trying to become “the best” in endeavors that truly interested me.
One example of this was when I took up the martial arts, at the relatively advanced age (for martial arts study) of 29. For the martial arts, I chose the hardest road possible, enrolling in a non-commercial school whose system practiced bare knuckle sparring with no punches pulled, and full power hits to one’s opponents.
In a four year period, I became a disciple of my teacher, while spending 5 nights a week at the dojo, and achieved black belt status. In our system, “black belt” meant something. Unlike shopping mall schools where belts were awarded just for showing up and paying tuition—I and my dojomates paid in blood and broken bones—but we developed a toughness from the realistic training, that is lacking from commercial schools.
We didn’t play “tag.” We hit with the intent of trying to hurt the opponent, as much as possible. We cultivated a killer instinct in ourselves.
I eventually opened my own school, where I taught my students and disciples (in the true martial arts, there is a distinction between “student” and “disciple”—disciples being more dedicated) in the same tough manner in which I came up.
After many years of bringing my disciples up, the martial arts became an integral part of my identity. This is what my reference to my “ego” meant—that it was paramount to me, that I teach in the best way possible, and that this—defined me—at that point in my life.
There is a danger in allowing one’s participation in an endeavor, and doing it well, define oneself. The danger is wounded ego, if that endeavor is lost. And so it happened with the martial arts in my life.
After a decade of teaching at night after full days’ work in my regular job, I began to crave some personal time in this endless work cycle—so, making sure that my disciples were well schooled, and ready for teaching their students–I retired from teaching the martial arts
Admittedly, I was fearful of losing a part of my identity, with the subsequent hit to my ego—that of the “respected martial arts teacher.”
I used to bring my disciples for dinner at Chinatown restaurants here in NYC, and I became accustomed to restaurant owners and waiters greeting me with exclamations of, “Sifu, so good to see you. Welcome. It’s honor to have you here!”
“Sifu” means revered teacher in Chinese, as does “Sensei” in Japanese. People in my neighborhood who knew I was a teacher in a school of repute, might call me Sensei if they did not know any better. That sort of recognition does feed one’s ego.
This is relevant with respect to my fear of losing a part of my identity as a “someone who mattered” in ophthalmology, just as I “mattered” when I retired from martial arts teaching.
I recently said to someone….
“I’ll never retire. I need to have the structure of work; I need to feel productive.”
This was before the detritus hit the cooling mechanism. At that point before what precipitated my leaving my job occurred, I anticipated great anxiety, if I had to retire.
That was then, and this is now.
TWINKLEBEAR: God! So hot, and so wise!
Right after I hastily left my job in an indignant rush, my beloved Twin Flame “Twinklebear” Lesley Maclean said to me….
“Don’t worry my Sookybear…..when one door closes, another one opens for you. You will have less stress now. You will see, it will be good!”
And so it has been. Amazingly, a mere five days after quitting my job, I am so much more relaxed. The full scale panic and anxiety I anticipated at being retired, never materialized.
I love my Twin Flame Twinklebear, so very much. She is so wise, as well as being sexy and hot beyond belief. She was right. All I need in this world to feel myself, is Twinklebear and Room 12.
When I met my true “other half,” my Twin Flame in late 2015, one thing is for sure. Another door opened for me, to a world wonderful and amazing, with my Twinklebear. It is is a heightened spiritual life with her, and yet, an ever so primordial existence.
We are primal.
I could not feel like myself without her. If you don’t know what that means, then you haven’t been reading previous memoirs, and paying attention.
I love you, Twinklbear
Forever and a day
Twin Flames, Podmates always
Bear Pact Forever
12 12 12 in every way
SCOTT “SOOKYBEAR” WONG