It's Showtime II

Carole Anne and I attempt to establish the defining quality that makes us fully human.

I pounded out another chapter to keep my mind off the Oval Office debacle.
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It was day two of Karen Week: The Official Bondo Launch.

Five minutes before showtime, only two people had shown up when I got a text:

“Sorry to report so late. I am just not feeling it today for this Bondo workshop.”

Not feeling it? This is all about feeling!!!

A string of messages followed:

“I am rethinking my idea to participate in your birthday/Bondo/Karen activities… As much as I would like to be there, it feels like I shouldn’t go.”

Feels like? Come on, feel the love!

Another: “I’d like to sign up for all of it, but need to arrange transportation.”

And: “Unfortunately, won’t be able to attend. The program sounds lovely…”

Then the ailments: “I have a cold. I’m sad I won’t be joining you today.”

Sad? Get your mom to write you a note.

“Sorry about missing today’s event, feeling under the weather.”

“Woke up this morning with a bit of a sore throat…”

“Regrets, mate, the dreaded cold is Covid. I don’t want to be ‘Covid Amber’ spreading joy and viruses…”

And from my beloved psychotherapist friend:

“For me, the topic would be like a busman’s holiday.”

Come on, even bus drivers can use a little Bondo!

If Karen were here, she’d vouch for all of them: “Bruce, things come up; people are busy.”

“Yeah,” I’d grumble. “Twelve apostles managed to get to the dinner party. And Judas scored a ride without getting Covid!”

I’ll admit — I get sucked in by the grandiosity of my visions, so I assumed people would rally around Bondo — What I ended up proving was Rumi’s admonition:

“Expectation is the red death.”
~ Rumi

My 12 months began with pie, and so it ended — humble pie.

But the show must go on. After months of research, thought, and conversation, Carole Anne and I were ready — to present to an audience of two. We practiced our 78-slide deck over Zoom, and then late last night, moved furniture, set up the AV, and checked the videos.

Carole Anne was nervous. “Just stay connected in the Bondo place,” I reassured. “All that matters is that folks experience the Bondo connection — to be recognized.”

“Okay, just don’t be stepping on me,” Carole Anne pressed. “Let me present my own way.”

“Deal,” I promised. Carole Anne knew I suffered from Bondo Interruptus. It’s a guy thing to interrupt women (and I promise I’m working on this).

I launched my Bondo playlist, the one where Krishna Das segues into Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is,” and waited for the guests to arrive.

I wanna know what love is

I want you to show me

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me

The first guest was a hypnotherapist curious about this Bondo business, so I reminded everyone, “There’s nothing new under the Sun. Bondo goes back to Mister Rogers:”

It’s a beautiful day for a neighbor, would you be mine?

I explained that our goal was to rediscover the primal innocence of a four-year-old — aka Bondo. Even NASA got it:

NASA gave a creativity test to 1,600 four-year-olds and discovered that 98 percent fell into the genius category of imagination. At 15 years old, creativity dropped to 12 percent, and by adulthood, the number dwindled to 2 percent. They found modern education to be the key factor in stifling innate creativity.¹

What does Bondo have to do with creativity? Bondo is a cosmic energy:

“Man has by nature access to the cosmic energy of creativity, and this energy makes it possible for him to act…It means that the creative power can enter into the instruments associated with his body — as in sex.” ~ J.G. Bennett

Our second guest, Fred, was my age and writing a book, Winning at Love: The Manual. I cautioned Fred, “I haven’t been winning at love this year, so don’t get your hopes up.”

Up came the first slide:

A naughty dog sits in shame amid ransacked garbage.

I started our discussion with Winston Churchill’s axion: “Never let a good crisis go to waste.”

When you see chicken bones and greasy wrappers across the kitchen floor and scream, “Oh my god! Honey, come quick! Bad dog, bad dog!!!” Whatever you think of the dog, your pup injected a shock — an explosion of energy that upset the status quo.

The question with energy: what should we do with it?

I explained my 12-month strategy to engage the shock of profound loss through the grieving process. According to the Law of the Octave, shocks offer opportunities to shift gears from one life chapter to the next.

If you’re a body surfer, you don’t let a big breaker “go to waste.” You face the wave and act, otherwise the explosion of the surf will smash you to the bottom. When you catch the timing and swim full force, you can ride the wave toward the shore. I chose to surf the waves of grief wherever they took me.

Catching athe energy that is released.

In 2015, musician Nick Cave’s 15-year-old son, Arthur, died after falling from a cliff in England. Seven years later, right after Cave completed “Faith, Hope and Carnage,” a book about the grieving process, Cave’s oldest son, Jethro, died unexpectedly at age 31.

Nick Cave saw his wife undergo “an essential change in her being” — a change of what life was to her. Nick confessed, “The same thing happened to me.” And then the money quote:

“It was an enormous, defiant, creative energy… it’s not that there’s ever been any closure — but to this defiant, dynamic force that came out of that.”

[Nick Cave interview excerpt: “Loss, Yearning, Transcendence,” 11-22-23

In this enormous, defiant, creative energy, I discovered Bondo.

The grief experts questioned my crazy urgency because grieving takes time. But I stumbled into an unexpected wisdom:

Extracting a cup of Bondo from every human encounter accelerated my journey into wholeness.

The richness of those encounters taught me to stop clinging to human connection. Carlos Castaneda’s Don Juan taught me:

“What matters to a warrior is arriving at the totality of oneself.”
~ Carlos Castaneda’s Don Juan

Paradoxically, the warrior path took me to a lonelier place.

Bondo is not some Jedi mind trick. It’s the life force Reshad spoke to:

“The moment we say, ‘I love,’ we bring into play a force that has its own job to do in the universe regardless of ours.” ~ Reshad Feild

Carole Anne and I presented more slides, including my Seven Stages of Marriage. Years ago, I encountered the “stages of love” when Karen and I took a weekend workshop modeled on Harville Hendrix's Imago Therapy. Hendrix felt that the three stages of a relationship healed childhood pain: 1) Romantic love, 2) The Power Struggle, and 3) Conscious Relationship.

He sold 4 million copies of Getting the Love You Want off that? It seemed embarrassingly simplistic, so I expanded it to follow the Octave:

• Stage I: Romantic Love — Love Under the Influence (Do)
  When we fall in love our brain becomes flooded with the neurochemical phenylethylamine, a compound found in chocolate that is thought to lift our mood. Neurochemicals like phenylethylamine increase our buoyancy, diminish pain, and cause us to feel safe. By adding sexual hormones to the mix, we become neuro-anesthetized to the degree needed to commit to a partner. If we saw the hurdles ahead, who would choose to get married?

• Stage II: Autopilot Love — Life becomes rote (Re)
  Married life quickly becomes tactical. “Honey, bring home some Pampers; let’s go with Ikea; the toilet is clogged.” No one is paying attention, but the tactical and practical slowly smother the magic. When we lose curiosity in the person who shares our life, the promise of love quickly becomes empty.

• Stage III: Disillusionment — Self-Protection (Mi)
  Four love-killing words doom a relationship: “Getting My Needs Met (GMNM).” Once the phenylethylamine wears off, you are left with (OMG) another human being. Think of Stage III as the midnight moment the fairy godmother’s magic spell wears off. When you’re young, you’re naturally drawn to GMNM — but as the spell lifts, you suddenly ask, “Who is this person!!!???” If Jung was directing this plot, he would yell like Hitchcock, “Open the cellar door; cue the shadow.”

• --- The Power Struggle --- (Mi-Fa Interval)
  The seeds of the Power Struggle can emerge at any time — even while planning the wedding. The feeling of disillusionment makes us dislike many of the things that attracted us in the first place. The fun-loving personality seems loud and obnoxious; your partner’s practicality and reliability suddenly become stultifying and boring. A singular issue often defines the struggle. It might be infidelity, emotional support, financial stability, or addiction. The line in the sand becomes a wall of despair. What does it take to move through this wall? Couples therapy? Trial separation? Ayahuasca? The note Fa is catheterized by an expansion of the heart. Becoming heart-centered amid the battle is the Jedi trick.

• Stage IV: Awareness — Self-reflection, Imago awareness (Fa)
  Marriage offers the greatest opportunity for soul growth. To reach Stage IV, you need to be on a soul project. Psychologically and spiritually, we subconsciously seek a partner who will help us become whole and complete. At this stage, you see how your partner pushes buttons and triggers wounds, but you learn to recognize that they are your buttons and your wounds. Imago is Latin for "image” — the "unconscious image of similar love." In Imago Relationship Therapy, the wounding and frustrations of childhood are worked out in an adult relationship. Harville Hendrix discovered this connection soon after he signed his divorce papers, which sadly was too late.

• Stage V: Commitment — Inner work, solidity (Sol)
  “He’s not easy to live with, but I’m not going anywhere.” It’s been a long journey for the wedding vows to be realized, but here we are. We’re a team — a dysfunctional one at times — but it’s the marriage team I’m on. Your friends may wonder, “Why do you stick with him/her?” They fail to recognize the deeper satisfaction and synergy that comes from commitment. Stage V offers a shared history. You’re co-starring in a full-length feature instead of a whimsical short. A change of partners can never replace the epic richness of your saga.

• Stage VI: Constancy — The deeper connection steers the ship (La)
  Robert Bly described this connection as the “third body” that a man and woman share in common:
  “A man and a woman sit near each other, and they do not long at this moment to be older, or younger, or born in any other nation, or any other time, or any other place. They are content to be where they are, talking or not talking… They obey a third body that they share in common.” ~ Robert Bly²
  What to do, what to say, and when to do it all emerge from a shared constancy. Even though no one is steering the ship, it follows the same guiding star to a safe harbor. Even simple decisions, like where to go to lunch, flow from an unseen mutuality.

• Stage VII: Conscious Love — Transpersonal love, Beyond personal needs (Si)
  Transpersonal is beyond this world. Most people experience conscious love after their partner dies. With the partner’s physical presence departed, they discover that the being remains. Attending to a loved one on a serious health journey can take us to this place. Bondo is the sacred science of love after death — physical death is not required.

For a bit of fun, we explored otherness as an exercise.

I asked our group to choose from “the sexiest men alive” who they would enjoy handing them a cup of morning coffee.

The women chose Keanu Reeves, then quickly backtracked when they considered the reality.

I flipped it around. “Who do you think Bruce would choose?

And they guessed correctly: Susan Sarandon.

We dug deeper into the mystery of otherness. Why are we drawn to one type over another?

When two astrological charts connect — hooray for Otherness!

Conversely, why do we wall ourselves apart from other religions, races, and ideologies different from our own?

Bethlehem, Palestine

People are challenged by otherness, yet it powers the entire universe. In the core of the Sun, hydrogen proton charges are powerfully repellent — until massive heat and gravity fuse them into helium and release the energy source for all life.

Otherness is curiously the source of Bondo.

Octavio Paz

Nobel laureate Octavio Paz (1914–1998) found a compelling aliveness in otherness. He wrote:

Eroticism is first and foremost a thirst for otherness…

This pure vitality is expressed through the other:

Love is a bet, a wild one, placed on freedom. Not my own; the freedom of the Other…

What I call Bondo he saw as a wild energy that presents as an unfolding mystery:

Love… transforms the subject and object of the erotic encounter into unique persons… Its cornerstone is freedom: the mystery of the person. ~ Octavio Paz

Mary Oliver likened otherness as a remedy for the human condition:

The world’s otherness is antidote to confusion, that standing within this otherness — the beauty and the mystery of the world, out in the fields or deep inside books — can re-dignify the worst-stung heart. ~ Mary Oliver, Blue Pastures

So what gets in the way?

If you’ve accepted Bondo as a code word for intimacy, let’s bring another consumer brand into the conversation. In 1958, Colgate introduced a secret ingredient, Gardol, that formed an “Invisible Shield.”

In answer to Karen’s and my original question: “What keeps us from forming and maintaining intimate relationships?” The answer is Gardol — i.e. “guard-all.” This invisible shield inhibits one’s emotional availability — the capacity to step outside of oneself and recognize the needs of another.”

“Gardol,” in this sense, was characterized by Wilhelm Reich as “Character Armor.”

Wilhelm Reich (1895 - 1968)

Wilhelm Reich famously discovered Orgone Energy — the life force that animates all living beings and is directly experienced in orgasm. Reich noticed that the orgastic movements of the human body were nearly identical to those of the protozoa under the microscope. Could orgasm describe a core function of all living matter?

Specifically, does the “tension —> charge —> discharge —> relaxation” experienced in sexual release describe this life force in action?

Reich felt we inhibit this force as a protection against self-awareness — that awareness of self-perception is like seeing yourself in the mirror — except without a piece of glass.”

I remember the moment this happened to me. I was renovating my parent’s rental house in the hills overlooking Ojai Valley. Until that point, I had never spent time in total solitude. I ate my brown rice under an oak tree and experienced a “split.” “What is this?” I asked, feeling agitated. “How can I simultaneously be Bruce and aware of Bruce?”

Reich’s discoveries were ahead of his time. Tragically, the FDA called Reich’s orgone accumulators and literature "fraud of the first magnitude." Reich was sent to the federal penitentiary, where he died.

Dr. Elsworth Baker (1903 - 1985) carried Reich’s torch by establishing the American College of Orgonomy. He described character armor:

“This awareness of self-perception as an object of attention produces a split. Man became frightened and began to armor against the inner fright and amazement in an effort to control his own sensations… In the sequence of events leading to armor formation, the crucial point in holding back seems to be the terror of surrendering in orgastic convulsion where man completely merges with nature.”³

Reich saw the inhibitions blocking the free flow of orgone energy in children as the root of chronic muscular contractions that grow into character armor.

Ola Raknes, a contemporary of Reich, described the armoring process:

“When some natural activity in a child is inhibited without some other adequate outlet for the energy involved, the inhibition will at first provoke rage. If the rage does not overcome the obstacle or inhibition, it will turn into anxiety, which will make the child subdue its rage as well as its original impulse. This subduing is brought about by muscular or vascular contractions or both, and such contractions, when intense or prolonged or repeated, become chronic holdings or tensions.”⁴

If you’re confused about the invisible shield, watch the original Gardol commercial:

And then, the official Bondo launch came to an end.

We ran through the Seven Seas of Bondo, the 12 Practical Ways to Build Bondo, the videos, and most of the 78 slides, and then it was over. Our two guests ran off, barely saying goodbye.

“What was that all about?” I asked Carole Anne.

Carole Anne stressed the upbeat, but my mordant Woody Allen nature could only see that opening night had bombed.

Henny Youngman knows a thing about show-biz, so I conjured his support.

“Henny, I feel like the universe set me up!”

“Hey kid, you never bombed before? Did I tell you about the time I performed at the Idaho Sheriffs’ Convention? My kosher pork jokes went over big.

“If you can’t believe in the clarity of your creative vision, what can you believe in?”

“Oh… so you’re having an existential crisis.”

“Henny, you’re my guardian angel!”

“Yeah, and in Yiddish, it’s Malakh— the sound of one angel gagging…”

“Stop with the shtick — I know the territory.”

“So, paint me the picture. What was your Bondo Fest supposed to look like?

I realized Henny had me cornered.

“I’ve gone through a deep, transformative journey and wanted to share that.”

“And you expected people to be going boo-hoo-hoo?”

Yes, in a sense.”

“The National Organization of Women once invited me to do stand-up — Betty Friedan, lots of Jews, I couldn’t fail. And, I delivered one of my best lines: ‘Do you know what it means to come home at night to a woman who'll give you a little love, a little affection, a little tenderness? It means you're in the wrong house.’”

“And…”

“If there were a spit, I’d be the main course.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I learned my lesson. It’s not about scoring points in life. We’re simply part of a bigger play. Good luck with your Bondo act.”

And just like that, my fairy god mensch went up in a puff.

Then the phone rang.

I excused myself: “It’s Elizabeth… Hi Elizabeth.”

“There’s a party you’re invited to,” Elizabeth announced.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“You’re inviting me to someone else’s party? That’s crazy. Do I know these people?”

“It’s a Hanukkah party. These are very conscious people. Her husband wrote the book Doc Hollywood , which was made into a film.”

“Okay.”

“And he died last month. You should have a lot in common.”

“And what — I should write The Dead Spouses Society? Look, we just finished a workshop, and we’re exhausted. I’m required to say yes, — my vow thing — but since I have guests, I think I have a legitimate out.”

“These are really wonderful people,” Elizabeth insisted. “They would love to meet you.”

“Text me the details, and I will ask my team.”

I asked Sarah and she gave an immediate no. “I’m an introvert.”

Everyone else looked to me, “Whatever you want, we will back you up.”

That put me on the spot. “I guess we’re going.”

Google Maps took us to an empty house – not a soul in the windows. Then the app suggested continuing another half block. Once there, Google changed its mind, so we U-turned back to the empty house. We parked, got out, and looked for life through the vacant windows. I’m thinking “Twilight Zone.”

I studied the text from Elizabeth: “Arrive 5:30 to 6:00. She’ll be making latkes. Theme: Sacredness.”

It was 6:05, so we were fashionably late. The rest was a little fuzzy. I called Carole Anne for her memory:

“Yes,” Carole Anne remembered. “We were on an adventure. We were going to enter this empty-looking house, not knowing a soul.”

“I felt we were in a TV show, The Bondo Squad,” as the four of us walked shoulder to shoulder down the long driveway. I pressed the bell, and nothing — a long nothing. Honestly, I was relieved. We did our duty and could split.

“Yes, and then suddenly, the door opened,” Carole Anne recalled. “The teenage son opened the door. He was awkward, but I felt a sense of recognition. I peered in and saw the hostess in the kitchen — frantic.”

“It looked bad,” I added. “I’ve cooked for lots of parties, and she was easily forty minutes behind — with no help.”

“That’s why I insisted you put on an apron,” Carole Anne teased.

“Even stranger, it was a latke party, and nobody knew how to make latkes,” I said, shaking my head. “So, I stripped off the $70 satin shirt you convinced me to buy in Asheville.”

“The sex appeal shirt.”

“Yes, that one.”

“That Asheville party was proof of Bondo,” Carole Anne insisted.

“Clarence and the gay bathhouses.“

“See… proof that Bondo is real.”

“When I saw several bowls of grated raw potatoes and the weeny electric skillet, I knew they were in trouble. Karen knew to parboil and rinse the potatoes, but it was too late. So, I cranked up the gas stove, got half an inch of oil smoking in multiple pans, and splattered smoking hot grease for the next half hour.”

“It was epoch,” Carole Anne laughed.

“Yes, filling their house with smoke!”

“The guests started to arrive. Talk about a Bondo-free zone,” Carole Anne sighed. “No one was curious to know who we were. Being ignored after a Bondo workshop felt bizarre. There was one woman, a sound healer, and Daphne and I kept asking her — in the spirit of recognition — about her work. It was strange – just one-word answers.”

“It was strange,” I agreed. “The strangeness started to turn when Bill, the man of the house, stepped into the kitchen and asked who we were. I started to tell him about my Rumi journey…”

“And then he turned and left,” Carole Anne reminded. “Bondo interruptus. When they discovered you were a writer, they became interested. She brought out her writing — on her open laptop!”

“Yes, we finally connected,” I said. “Right as we were leaving.”

“The first C, Connection, takes time,” Carole Anne emphasized.

“Fifty hours for a casual friend.”

“But there was a happy ending.”

“There was?”

“The proof of Bondo came the next day. That text from Elizabeth.”

I scrolled through my phone and read:

“They loved you and crew, and Bill said it turned it from a simple dinner party to a miraculous event!

“There it was. L'chayim!” I exclaimed. “The Hanukkah miracle. As one candle lights another, one soul ignites another.”

“My hubby’s home. Gotta go.”

“And my dog is calling. Love you.”

I stared at my phone call notes, folded my arms, and took stock of my year.

I felt a presence. It was my alter ego, Henny Youngman.

“Okay, Henny. Thanks for showing up. Let’s lay this to rest.”

“Lay what? That was the whole thing — the whole megillah.”

“Elaborate.”

“You threw a bunch of slides on the screen — and nothing happened.”

“Just rub it in.”

“And then you were mysteriously recruited to fry latkes.”

“And they were oblivious.”

“You think. That kid who opened the door.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It was all for him. Imagine it. A crack latke team walked in out of the blue. From Central Casting? He watched you take over the kitchen and save the day. He experienced the miracle of Hannukah.”

“Central Casting?”

“One last thing,” Henny smirked.”

“Shoot.”

“I worked every day for over seventy years without a vacation or a break — non-stop until it was time to go to the hospital and die.”

“Wow. What is that?”

“In my life, I found this Bondo thing you’re talking about.”

“Which is?”

“The jokes just came through me,” Henny explained. “People would ask, ‘How do you do that?’”

“And you answered?”

“I made people laugh so they knew they were loved.” Heny’s eyes twinkled. “That’s all.”

“Thank you, my Guardian Malakh.”

“Gesundheit.”

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1. https://www.ideatovalue.com/crea/nickskillicorn/2016/08/evidence-children-become-less-creative-time-fix

2. Bly, Robert. 2000. Eating the Honey of Words: New and Selected Poems. New York: Harper Perennial.

3. https://orgonomy.org/articles/Baker/Armoring.html

4. Raknes, Ola. Wilhelm Reich and Orgonomy: The Brilliant Psychiatrist and His Revolutionary Theory of Life Energy (p. 91). ACO Press. Kindle Edition.