I was who I was

I admit I haven’t been at my best this last decade.
- The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

I woke early the morning of January second – 5:30 or so. I’ve had to give some attention to sleep lately – as well as to how I spend my waking hours – and this was an odd enough wake time to give me pause, about forty-five minutes’ worth, while I tried to figure out how getting up that early (or not) might affect the shape and substance of the day. I might have literally tossed or turned a few times, but it was – I was – quite peaceful. I half-dozed enough to form (for example) a dream-version image of a particular suburban mall parking lot that I’ve often crossed, but has never been part of my dreamscape; the dreamy bits seemed to alternate with moments of lucid, waking thought. Eventually my mind did what it often does, returned to some small failure from the past – some imagined slight from a casual remark, or some misstep arising from a lack of attention, sensitivity or feeling on my part. Now, my old habit when this happens is to mentally replay the scene until – what? I was right? I was wrong? I’m sorry? it hurts? And the new habit is to catch the old habit, maybe laugh, shake my head, and ask myself “Umm, are you ready to let go of this yet?” That morning – and even a few hours later I honestly couldn’t remember the particular memory that had bubbled up – I had an immediate and different response: “I was who I was. I am who I am”, and of course, after a beat, “I will be who I will be”. Hmmm. Not bad. Another thought was “It’s a new year.” To my surprise, that fact seemed not to carry any freight: neither dread nor promise.

…Hey, ya know breakdowns come and breakdowns go.
So what are you gonna do about it, that’s what I’d like to know.
- Paul Simon

Also in the mix that morning was not so much a revisiting of as a random reflection on the greatest of several apparently defining childhood traumas: a failure of parenting that after some fifty years I still can’t talk about in public, a sudden shock that at the time filled me at once with righteous indignation and abject terror. Does it sound as if I hold a grudge? Oddly enough, I seem not to. There I lay in bed, recalling the scene with a certain detachment, asking myself if I was angry at my mother, my father, both of whom failed me in that moment. And the answer was no. Angry at what? At their being young, being human, being unsuited for each other? For a moment’s indiscretion born of years of frustration and mismatched desire? No. No.

Opportunity is missed by most people because it comes dressed in overalls and looks like work.
- Thomas Edison

OK, so then came another long-familiar, oft-looping, interior script: “I need something. What do I need?” Usually this is followed by a perplexed and dissatisfied silence. On this morning of unsought, apparent attunement with the universe, though, the answer came as swift and certain as it was unexpected: “Work.” Work. Duh.

I don’t see myself as a person who’s in this situation. I don’t see myself this way.
- The Squid and the Whale

How did I get to be a bum? How did I lose touch with the reality of daily living? What’s going to snap me out of this? Maybe it starts with that simple realization: the thing I need, the thing that has been missing from my life, is work. Somehow the gift of realizing this lack and this need implies to me a resolve that goes beyond resolution.

At a certain point, research is no different from running. I had done plenty of both. Eventually you’ve got to stop, make a leap, and leave the ground behind.
- Sean Wilsey

When I got up it was still dark, and too early for breakfast. But I could write. It’s taken me another month to get this little memory down in black and white. But here it is.

Love to all,

M.

live long enough to find the good one. protect yourself.

(click image to play – 03:00)
Everyone I’ve shown Wilfrid Brimo’s French public service cartoon on STD protection who has taken time to respond has done so with enthusiasm and usually with warmth. No French is required to enjoy it: the tagline is “Live long enough to find the good one. Protect yourself,” bracketing the name of the ad’s producer, AIDES (not AIDS in French, but “helpers”; they claim to be the oldest French organization devoted to combating HIV/AIDS). Here’s an English-end-titled version. The same production team also made a similarly structured predecessor to this film, aimed at young women.

credits (pdf)

a message for the season of hope

Dear Friends,

From time to time I have mentioned The Mail Crew, by their self-description “[a]n information and support site for e-mail groups that encourage gay, lesbian, bi, and not-sure high school students to communicate with one another on a personal, at-home level.” In particular I like to share with people their touching story of how it started.

The Crew was kind enough to include me on a Thanksgiving mailing, which also included a link to Westlife’s cover of Josh Groban’s “You Raise Me Up.” What with the press of my dayjob, the conclusion of the last semester, and the beginning of the holiday bustle, I didn’t get around to answering them till today. As my finger hit the send button, it occurred to me that this would be another opportunity to remind you or inform you of their existence, and to connect my friends to something more hopeful than the last note I sent to some of you. Here’s the note I sent to the Crew:

Dear Crew,

Thank you for your kindness and thoughtfulness, and the touching gift. It’s been a pleasure offering some small support to your efforts, which still amaze me. More than once I’ve found a kind of onlline swagger in young gay guys that masks the isolation and alienation of their daily lives, and when the mask slips, It is always a pleasure and a relief having you available as peers and helpers to whom I can refer them.

[A] decade ago, I was driving the young man whose mother I’d helped see him through adolescence to his new life at university. I knew I wouldn’t see him for a while, and it was time, I thought, to sum up whatever wisdom or advice I could. It came to me that the core of that message was “Don’t let them kill you.” There’s always a “them”, and whether they want to throw you into the meatgrinder of neocolonial warfare or exploit you sexually or simply suck up as much emotional energy as they can for their own gratification or inadequacies, you need to know this and be vigilant. And of course, you need to know that the world is also full of love and grace, much of it simply there for the finding or asking. You have found love and grace, and courage, among yourselves, and have been wise and generous enough to want to share those blessings with others who need them. Bless you for that. You are a big part of what dwindling hope I have for this world.

Please accept my warm wishes for this holiday season and, as always, my

Love,
M.

There are signs of hope in this world, rare as they may be, or overshadowed as they may be by the portents of doom. I’m happy to share one of those signs with you.

Love and blessings to all,
M.

Why I Am Not a Buddhist – a poem by Molly Peacock

Here is a favorite poem by Molly Peacock. I almost began this blog with it, but took a different turn at the last minute.