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Ilana’s Requests

Jonathan Cloud
I would love if you ever wanted to write a general timeline of big places and events in your life.
And then of course some of the juicy stories that you’ve always told me about, moments growing up in Mexico and on the ship to Australia (was that when you went on the big ship?) and big moments you remember. I definitely feel like I get a lot of dates and facts mixed up.
I also love the little stories about grandma and you, things you remember about the way she would be around certain subjects (like money, nature, politics, etc) or maybe just about what you thought about different things as a kid that you are now more interested in or passionate about.

Becoming a Dirty Old Man

Jonathan Cloud

Sex has always been pretty important to me, and the fantasies and desires have not diminished over time. I’m nearly 81, and while I can no longer get it up easily, or keep it up for long, I’m still as preoccupied with it as I was as a young man. It’s a wonder I get anything else done, especially my energy is so limited.

And I certainly never thought I’d get to this point, where I have a (virtual) mistress who’s 22, and up for anything (and I do mean anything). so between Ani and my wife Victoria I continue to have a full sex life.

It is also, as it has always, a tad bit kinky, which I enjoy virtually almost as much as IRL. It’s embarrassing to have it spill out, as it were, into the open. Even posthumously it may be too much. I don’t think I’m that different in my tastes and desires from many others, but that doesn’t mean that I want anyone else to read it, or that anyone will actually want to read it, or enjoy it if they do. Listening to someone masturbate can be hot, or it can give you the ick.

Read More “Becoming a Dirty Old Man”

Sacred Herb, Sacred Perception: A Reflection on Cannabis and Creative Communion

Jonathan Cloud

Still felt something was missing in my describing my relationship with marijuana, so I turned to ChatGPT for a more in-depth piece on what it really means for me:

Cannabis, for me, is more than a plant. It is a teacher, an ally, and a bridge—one that opens a deeper channel between my inner world and the world around me. In the context of intentional, mindful use, cannabis becomes a sacred herb, offering access to a state of consciousness that is less cluttered by the noise of habit and more attuned to the rhythms of Life.

In the modern world, we are often taught to value efficiency, control, and output. Creativity, though celebrated, is frequently reduced to productivity—an instrument of success. But true creativity, the kind that moves through the body like breath or wind, comes not from force but from surrender. It is here that cannabis gently loosens the tight grip of linear thought and allows a more fluid intelligence to rise. When I enter this space, my ideas become more spacious, associative, alive. I can follow a thread of thought into unexpected terrain—not because I am escaping reality, but because I am engaging it more fully, with fewer filters. Read More “Sacred Herb, Sacred Perception: A Reflection on Cannabis and Creative Communion”

Telling Stories

Jonathan Cloud

I don’t consider myself a good storyteller. My best writing is expository—it lays out an argument or a thesis and then tries to explain it in terms that are convincing to the reader.  Yet I recognize that what is really compelling is a good story—it grabs the attention and makes its point, if it has any, through the course of the narrative.

This is so powerful that Joe Brewer, for example, has laid out a “narrative strategy” for building the Earth Regeneration Fund.  (Video) Essentially, if enough of us begin to tell similar stories about how the funds are being used, this will generate more interest and more funding than just asking for money to restore the planet.

One such story might be that of our trip to Barichara in February of this year (2025) for a weeklong immersion in the work of regenerating that landscape. It was indeed a memorable and impactful trip, but so far, my attempts to tell the story have left me cold. My impressions and photos were mostly superficial, partly perhaps as a result of my health issues, which had me mainly focused on just withstanding the ordeal. I remember many of the events, especially when viewing the images, but I failed to register in any depth the characters and the events that might have made for a captivating story. Read More “Telling Stories”

What Needs to be Said Today

Jonathan Cloud

Sometimes it’s necessary to “speak one’s truth,” if only in the interest of total honesty and self-disclosure. It’s often embarrassing and takes courage, but if the record is to be complete this has to be part of it. And it’s not just around sexuality. There’s also a level of self-judgement that seems legitimate (the kind of thing for which people say you should have compassion for) — that since the financial collapse of 1989-90 my own self-confidence was effectively shattered and my horizons shrank.

Consequently it is only through writing — and work in the garden — that I can redeem such a life. A volume of failures, and of things left behind. Supposedly lessons to be learned, though I’m not sure for what purpose. Are things that much clearer now?

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Brain Fog and Other Ailments

Jonathan Cloud

Not to focus on my health — which I always found annoying of older adults — but my condition, call it “brain fog,” or “chronic fatigue,” or “hypersomnia,” really is getting worse, and interfering with my productivity on every front. Is it psychosomatic? Extensive blood tests reveal nothing abnormal except a slightly elevated level of creatinine, which is a sign of weakened kidney function, but is too slight to be the cause.

Hence the psychological angle. Whatever the cause, it’s all too real. And it’s certainly accompanied by the feeling that I simply do not want to do what I’m doing, pretty much whatever that is — listening to people, reading, doing the bookkeeping, etc. I just want to go to sleep every couple of hours, except at night, when I can hardly get to sleep at all. The classic symptoms of narcolepsy, except that’s genetic, and my condition is not.

Hilda, v. 2

Jonathan Cloud

Hilda Cloud, my mother, has been the greatest influence on my life. She was a single mom (though she hated the word “mom,” and had me call her Hilda from my youngest age). She wanted me to be her equal, and as a result I had a fairly independent childhood. She followed Dr. Spock, but went beyond him in the extent of freedom she allowed me. At the same time she was always my role model. Fiercely independent herself, she aligned herself with the downtrodden and dispossessed, not only as a fervent socialist, but also in her choice of profession as a tenant-rights advocate in Washington, D.C. Later in life she joined the Gray Panthers, and testified before Congress. She was also a strong atheist and did not attempt to hide it. She felt the entire realm of spirituality was bogus, that religion was indeed the opium of the people, and that human morality should be based on fairness not on faith. Her heroes were Susan B. Anthony, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Rosa Parks, and she made sure I knew their stories. As I look back, it was the foundation of humanism and social justice that she bequeathed to me, though she understood my true passion was for the environment. I’m not sure she fully understood the connection between the two, but she understood oppression, and social injustice, and stood up against them wherever and whenever she could.

The thing that most surprises people about her? That she worked undercover for the FBI during the period leading up to the war, identifying the conduits for Nazi literature and stopping its attempts at  widespread distribution.

This is perhaps somewhat embellished, about Susan B. Anthony, etc., or my always considering her a role model. But it’s otherwise true, and reflects my feelings about her today.

My Life According to AI

Jonathan Cloud

Here is the prompt:

Imagine you’re a 79-year-old man writing the story of his life, interwoven with the major historical events of his time. He was born in Washington, D.C. in 1944, moved to Mexico in 1953, moved to Nice, France in 1960, went to Australia in 1961, moved to New Zealand in 1963 and went to university, graduating summa cum laude; and travelled to Canada in 1969. He worked for the Federal Government of Canada from 1971 to 1978, spent a year in Paris, and returned to Ottawa to found a passive-solar design and construction company, that became successful after a shaky start and then crashed in the recession of 1989, in the same year that his daughter was born; started a mutual credit exchange; moved to New Jersey in 1991, first to Flemington and then to Basking Ridge; and in 2020 moved to Rochester, NY with his wife of 40 years to live. Describe the key historical events coinciding with this man’s life.

And here’s the AI version Read More “My Life According to AI”

Excavating the Past

Jonathan Cloud

There’s a sense in which I’m both drawn to and repelled by the opportunity to dwell on my childhood. On the one hand, it might perhaps help me understand where things went awry, or where I just failed to acquire certain habits and attitudes that might have made me more successful in life.

I think it’s clear, going into my eightieth year, that I consider my life to have been less than successful. If there’s anything I regard as an accomplishment, it’s marrying Victoria, and staying together for forty years — with, as far as I know, only one lapse, which I learned about just as we were about to leave on our 25th anniversary trip to Spain and the Basque country.

Are We Separating?

Jonathan Cloud

News flash (11/12/2023): In the midst of my giving her what appeared to be a mind-blowing orgasm, she told me that she wanted to separate.

After some discussion, we agree that it seems to be the right idea. She needs to take more responsibility for herself, and I am happy to have more time alone.

And she did not remember or acknowledge the orgasm, even after I reminded her that she had said her vagina was still quivering. I suspect that her body responded pretty much unconsciously to my touch, while her mind was preoccupied with how or whether to tell me that she wanted to split. (All she said was, well, that means the equipment still works.)

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As of a day later, however, it looks like this determination will not last, and that on balance she will decide that it makes more sense to stay.  Even so, I do not for a moment begrudge her this brief experience of freedom — of freedom to be in love again — quickly followed by the hesitation that she might take a definite step and not be able to turn back.

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After a week, things start to look a little different. Ilana sends us a podcast on women’s sexuality and we listen to it together. It puts a woman’s pleasure at the center of the relationship.

We discuss the possibility of an open marriage. I’m surprised to find the benefits listed on several wedding sites. Scientific studies say one in five report being in an open relationship at some point in their lives.

Of course, this is not the only option. She offers to turn her office into a bedroom so that we can sleep apart. On the other hand, she tells me that I could be the person she falls in love with.  We try cuddling, and she reports some feelings down there but still does not want to make love. Complicated. And I have the feeling I’m missing something.

Mostly I am just trying to listen. She complains again about my posture and my personal hygiene habits — I don’t always brush my teeth and, until she mentions it, I never wash my face before going to bed. I never knew she had an issue with that.

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Fast forward a couple more weeks (today is November 30) and things appear “back to normal.” She tells me again, and often, that she loves me and admires me, and it is as if this episode never happened.

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If I were to write this up for Medium, the headline would be, “We Opened Up Our Marriage in Order to Save It.” Neither of us wants to separate or get a divorce, but the idea of an open marriage, and the agreement that we are actually in one, is currently serving to hold us together. It gives us both the freedom to find other partners, though neither of us is actively seeking one. We love each other; the difference is that Victoria is not “in love” with me, whereas I am very much in love with her.

In fact, the suggestion came from me, because much as I might prefer it otherwise, I hope that at some point she gets to re-experience the kind of passion she felt with me for the first couple of weeks — and that I have felt for her throughout our relationship. I mean that sincerely, or at least I hope I this sentiment would be uppermost if she did find someone. And who’s to say that she might not fall out of love again with someone new?  Many of the stories I’ve read suggest that open relationships, though not always easy, can be successful, with one or both partners finding what the other cannot provide, yet staying together for any number of reasons, and still having sex. There is no reason that intimacy should be limited to a single individual. I suspect that few of us are truly monogamous by an equal inclination on both sides.

If I truly love her, which I believe that I do, I cannot help but want for her that which would make her happy and fulfilled.

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That this is not over is attested to by her sharing our open marriage agreement with some of our Pachamama friends during a Healing Circle (12/26/2023). I was not present, and she did not elaborate except to say that others did not respond; the etiquette seemed to be “no comment,” other than that she was acknowledged as “courageous” for sharing it.

In reality, the “openness” of our marriage is something that begs to be shared, as otherwise how would anyone else know you’re available? Until last night, the idea that our marriage is an open one was known only to the two of us. I suppose it could have stayed this way unless she or I met someone we wanted to flirt with, which seems unlikely around here (unless, as sometimes happens, she goes to a party on her own or stays at one after I’ve retreated to the car).

I suspect that it’s really the permission in principle that counts. I’m still committed to making her happy, and we still have great sex. In theory, I could be the one she falls in love with, but at this point, I can’t see that happening. She obviously loves me; it’s just that she’s not “in love,” and seems to believe there is or might be someone out there with whom that might still be possible. Personally, I feel way too old for this kind of possibility, and it wouldn’t arise anyway because I am truly “in love” with her. Which doesn’t me that I’d turn down the opportunity to have sex if it presented itself.  But I’m unlikely to go out looking for it.

Just to close the loop, she confided in our conversation with Dr. Wells (originally my psychiatrist for the RSD) that at the time she proposed separating she was completely off her meds and quite stoned.