I love seeing grown men cry. Something extraordinarily monumental is happening when, in our society, male strangers break down and weep with joy. I am honored, elated and grateful to be alive today and witness the humanness of it all.
At 7AM, my partner and I went to our local movie theater that was showing the Inauguration speech on 2 screens and providing free breakfast. The line encircled the block and was chock full of white folks. They'd been there since 5AM. We hightailed it to a friend's home who was hosting a viewing of the ceremony.
As Barack Hussein Obama, the first African America to become this country's President, began to speak, I started to cry along with the other guests. I cried at the possibilities that pulled at my heart and debated with the cynicism of my mind. Each tear carried a prayer for unity between gays and Christians; each drop cleansing bloodshed between Israelis and Palestinians, Iraqis and Americans, and every place and massacre kept stealthily hidden from the American public.
The enormity of the challenges that have been heaped on our collective plate is staggering. The difference is that we have a leader that admits and speaks of our mistakes, that calls all of us to work together and take responsibility for our past and future actions and who reminds us that not only are we in the midst of an abysmal economic, ecologic and spiritual maelstrom, we are a pertinent part of the solution.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
When Bumpy Things Happen Between Good People
Sometimes when you least expect it, life just suckers you in the jaw. At such a time, you get to see if you've learned anything at all, during the abundant times. If you've filled up your bucket with enough confidence, enough trust, enough remembrance of goodness and connection, a poking in the bucket, shouldn't drain it of all the previous things.
I have a little issue you see. I am a spawn of the Incredible hulk and the Green-Eyed monster. Whenever I feel like my partner, as any previous ones can attest, wants to spend a significant amount of time with a special, single, unattached and looking, queer friend, my ears go back, like a threatened feline. I am ready to pounce. It can get pretty darn ugly. I am not proud of this fact. I did come by it honestly.
I could say that it was my ex's fault, the one who took off with our couples' therapist. I could say it was a different ex who had an affair with a man while we were together. I could even say it was my mother's fault for choosing to meet her own needs instead of her children's. But that really won't help anything. It won't transform it. It would be the easy way out. It would be a way to continue to feel not chosen. To feel abandoned. To feel badly. I've done that for years. At this point, I feel it's very passe.
The more honest thing is to take a look at what my part in that is or was. The more enlightened stance would be to realize that people don't always act in the most fair or trustworthy way, but that they really are just trying to navigate their own journey as best as they can. The most revolutionary act, on my part, would be to choose to see every instance as a new one, rather than build an ammunition of doubt, distrust and fear.
It would be quite a different scenario at the corral, if I showed up not with a loaded gun in my left full of "I told you so", and another one in my right brimming with "You are just like everybody else" bullets.
No, It would be a miracle if I showed up with a bucket of tears for the longings of what did or didn't happen in one hand, and the other, an outstretched open hand to hold yours or let it go.
It isn't an easy choice. I'd have to give up the familiar. I'd have to give up the need to blame anyone including myself. Then what would I feel? Then whom would I be?
I have a little issue you see. I am a spawn of the Incredible hulk and the Green-Eyed monster. Whenever I feel like my partner, as any previous ones can attest, wants to spend a significant amount of time with a special, single, unattached and looking, queer friend, my ears go back, like a threatened feline. I am ready to pounce. It can get pretty darn ugly. I am not proud of this fact. I did come by it honestly.
I could say that it was my ex's fault, the one who took off with our couples' therapist. I could say it was a different ex who had an affair with a man while we were together. I could even say it was my mother's fault for choosing to meet her own needs instead of her children's. But that really won't help anything. It won't transform it. It would be the easy way out. It would be a way to continue to feel not chosen. To feel abandoned. To feel badly. I've done that for years. At this point, I feel it's very passe.
The more honest thing is to take a look at what my part in that is or was. The more enlightened stance would be to realize that people don't always act in the most fair or trustworthy way, but that they really are just trying to navigate their own journey as best as they can. The most revolutionary act, on my part, would be to choose to see every instance as a new one, rather than build an ammunition of doubt, distrust and fear.
It would be quite a different scenario at the corral, if I showed up not with a loaded gun in my left full of "I told you so", and another one in my right brimming with "You are just like everybody else" bullets.
No, It would be a miracle if I showed up with a bucket of tears for the longings of what did or didn't happen in one hand, and the other, an outstretched open hand to hold yours or let it go.
It isn't an easy choice. I'd have to give up the familiar. I'd have to give up the need to blame anyone including myself. Then what would I feel? Then whom would I be?
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