We in the Pagan community talk about self-empowerment a lot. It's a key reason a lot of us came to a Pagan path, at least in my experience. However, sometimes we talk about it in rather vague terms, never really making it clear what it means to be self-empowered. To that end, I would like to suggest my own definition: Self-empowerment is the act of embracing the realization that no matter what situation we may find ourselves in, we always have the ability to choose how we will respond and act.
Note that self-empowerment doesn't mean we always get to control the situations we find ourselves in. Nor does it mean that we can magically change everything in our environment to suit our needs. Such a concept of self-empowerment would simply be out of step with and contrary to reality. Hardships are going to befall us. People are going to do things we don't like and that hurt us. Circumstances are going to limit our options and even make us face some unpleasant choices. Those who want to find a way to turn their lives into a fairy tale need to keep looking. They will not find it here.(2)
But what the principle of self-empowerment tells us is that no matter what those situations are, our actions are our own to choose. It tells us that even if our choices are limited to unpleasant ones, there are still choices to make.(3) Self-empowerment teaches us that no matter what is beyond our control, who we choose to be and how we choose to act is still our personal domain. And that is an incredible power to wield, in my opinion.
Saying we have no choice in a situation robs us of that power. It turns us into victims of our circumstances rather than people who are working to not only make the best of our circumstances, but improve it insofar as we can. And that is a great tragedy.
And again, this is a creeping problem. The belief that we had no choice tends to spread throughout our lives. What started as one instance where we thought we had no control or no power becomes two. Then it becomes five. Then it becomes a regular occurrence. Soon, we are never empowered because we fail to see our choices. And then we wonder why our lives are nothing like we want them to be.(4)
Now some may be ready to ask me, "But what about magic?" And it's a good question, so I will answer it. Back in 2007, I blogged about the role one's will plays in magic. At that time, I suggested that our will is the part of our psyche that initiates action. It's the part of us that actually goes about making all of these choices, and it's central to the process of working magic.
So what happens when we say that part of us is incapable of making choices because there are none to be made? We are effectively subjugating it or turning it off. A belief that we have no choices actually hinders our will. And a subjugated or hindered will simply cannot operate effectively. Which means our ability to do magic effectively disappears as well.
Notes:
(1) As witches are not the only people who believe in or value self-empowerment, I'm sure many other people will be able to identify with much of what I'm saying here. I think that's great. But since I'm a witch, I'm going to focus on witches. Though I do hope anyone who isn't a witch still shares with me what value they might find in my thoughts.
(2) In reality, I suspect they won't find it anywhere. But I respect their right to continue searching. That's their choice to make.
(3) The other advantage to realizing you still have choices, even if they're all less than ideal, is that it gives you the freedom to think creatively and look for even more choices. The ones you see immediately may not be the only ones laying about.
(4) Of course, there are also times when our lives are nothing like we want them to be because our desires are simply not realistic. Again, this is because self-empowerment is not about living a fairy tale life. Sometimes, we just have to find a way to live within our limitations. But my experience is that even within our limitations, there's a life that's well worth living.
I've been reading a lot of blogs the past few days, and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America have been a major topic of discussion. This is because the ELCA has been holding their Church-Wide Assembly this week, and the church's response to GLBT people in various circumstances has been a huge topic of conversation. They've voted on a statement on Human Sexuality (of which GLBT issues is only a small portion), a policy of allowing local congregations to minister to GLBT people in accordance with their own conscience, and a policy allowing the ordination of GLBT clergy in monogamous, lifelong partnerships.
It's this last policy that I'd like to talk about briefly. Although I am no longer a Christian and don't foresee returning to that faith (and if I did, I'd be more inclined to join the Orthodox church anyway), it's something that in some ways is near and dear to me. As someone who loves to help and serve others, it pleases me to see new opportunities being provided to GLBT to help and serve others. And as someone who once felt called to ministry, I admit some pleasure in knowing that such an opportunity has come in my lifetime, even if I no longer plan to take it.
As I've read various people express both their joys and their concerns about this decision in the ELCA, I began to consider my own time of serving in my old (American Baptist) church back home. While I was not an ordained minister, I spent time as a Sunday school teacher, the leader of the youth group, and even the superintendent of the children's Sunday school program. (I also did speak from the pulpit as a lay leader a handful of times.)
I came out to myself as a gay man towards the end of my senior year in college. When I graduated and returned home, I also returned to my small rural church an quickly found myself pulled back into leadership. I almost immediate took over the Sunday school class for grades 7-12 as well as the youth group. That summer, I also co-led our church's Vacation Bible School program. A few months after that, my aunt stepped down as superintendent of the children's Sunday school program and I was asked to take over.
At the time, no one in my church (with the possible exception of a couple of family members) knew that I was gay. To be honest, I'm not sure how the other members of the church would've reacted if they knew, and I was too afraid at the time to find out. So I kept my sexuality a secret and focused on doing my duties as a leader in the church. And I suffered in silence.
Yes, I suffered. Those first few months to a couple of years after you come out to yourself can be quite difficult emotionally. You find yourself sorting through a lot of feelings and trying to understand what it means to be gay and all the implications it has for your life. So here I was trying to act as a leader in my church and deal with my own problems, and I was afraid to turn to any of the other church leaders to seek help during this time of my life.
At one point, I began having trouble upholding my responsibilities as a church leader began to sag due to the issues I was trying to work through. (And things got even worse the few months before I finally left the church -- as I had also begun to add in the complications that come with one's first real relationship.) I started to procrastinate and forgot to do certain things. A few of the other leaders began to get upset, especially as they relied on me for certain things and I let them down on more than one occasion. And I was frustrated because they never once asked what was going on with me or why I was becoming less dependable. But to make matters worse, even if they had asked me what was wrong, I doubt I would've had the courage to tell them. I just wasn't comfortable.
As I think of my experiences, I think of the ELCA's decision with some pleasure, knowing that at least some GLBT people who wish to serve in a Christian community will now be able to do so openly. And this means that they will be able to get the support I felt was denied to me back when I was serving as I felt called. And that is something that pleases me greatly.
I think most of us have heard that statement or similar ones like it. In fact, I'd be willing to go out on a limb and say that most of us have made that statement or similar ones.(1) It's a common sentiment to express when we are faced with a tough decision, especially one with ethical implications or consequences we're not entirely comfortable with or feel defensive about.
Claiming that we had no choice in such circumstances allows us to feel better about our choices. It helps us feel less responsible for them and their consequences. It's away to mollify our own sense of discomfort and even guilt. It's an entirely human temptation. The problem is that it's both self-deceptive and anti-thetical to living an ethical life.
As I've mentioned before, choice is essential to ethics. If one cannot make a choice, then there is no way to act ethically.(2) So in order to act ethically, one must acknowledge and accept not only that one had a choice, but that one made a choice.
I think that this is sometimes hard to do because we're actually uncomfortable with the ethical choices we are forced to make. It's easy to make the easy choices when it comes to ethics. It's easy not to steal from our neighbor. It's easy to refrain from beating up the person who makes you angry. In contrast, it's not always so easy to decide how to handle a hurtful situation with a loved one. It's not always so easy to deal with a situation involving a painful truth.
I think that it's these harder situations that make the "I had no choice" argument so appealing. If we can claim that our chosen course of action -- that might hurt our loved ones to some degree -- is beyond our control and choice, then we can escape responsibility and the sense of guilt involved. It becomes "not our fault."
The problem with this approach, I think, is that taking such an escape becomes easier the more we do it. It becomes easier to forget our own agency in our actions the more we deny it. So suddenly, nothing we do is of our own choice, nor are we responsible of it. In effect, we become free of our ethical obligations. But again, the problem with this is that we cannot then be ethical.(2)
I would suggest that it is better, rather, to accept that we do have an element of choice in such tough situations. It allows us to acknowledge that we (hopefully) made the best choice is among a list of rather undesirable choices offered to us.(3) This allows us to acknowledge both our sincere attempts to live ethically in a given situation and the difficulty and imperfection of the situation. And it puts us back in a position of agency and personal empowerment.
Notes:
(1) The variation I've personally struggled with recently is, "You put me in this position so I had to do it!" The idea behind this is that someone else has created a situation where I had to make a hard decision, one that I could've avoided if they had made a different choice themselves. The thing is, my entire argument still stands. They may have created a situation where I had to make a hard choice, but it was still my choice to make in the end, and I have to own it.
(2) This is not necessarily the same as being unethical, mind you. But it does put us in a position that is not one that I would personally enjoy. Nor would I enjoy the company of one who chooses to live in such a position.
(3) I also suspect that the "I had no choice" argument is often tempting due to a fear that we didn't make the best choice in a given situation, or that we might even discover that we totally overlooked a better choice. That's a concept I might come back to in a future post.
This morning, my father called to let me know that his plans had changed suddenly, so he would not be coming to Rochester today. He also let me know that the reason that his plans had changed because our old pony, Saddle, died in the middle of the night. So Dad has to see to that today.
While I'm sad to hear that Saddle has passed beyond the veil, I am not surprised by the news. We all knew that it was merely a matter of time. Saddle would have turned thirty seven in the next month or so, which means that he lived roughly a decade beyond the normal life expectancy for his breed. Indeed, I remember back in the summer of 1997 when Dad was building Saddle's new pasture at the new house. Dad commented on more than one occasion that he was putting a lot of effort into building fence for a horse that probably wouldn't make it through the coming winter. But the following Spring, the old codger (Saddle, not Dad) was running and kicking as if he were still a young colt. (Come to think of it, Dad's still pretty spry, too.)
Dad went through that same process for the two or three summers after that, each time he went out to mend fence. After the last time, he simply decided that Saddle was going to stick around and said nothing more. We all knew that our little pony wouldn't be with us forever, but we decided to quit expecting the inevitable. And as if out of kindness, the inevitable stayed away for several more years.
I vaguely remember when we purchased Saddle (actually, we purchased him back, as he was originally born on my parents' property back when they used to keep multiple horses, but they eventually sold them all when they started a family) when I was about five years old. I learned to ride horse (both bareback and with a saddle) on him. Saddle was a stubborn old coot, and I learned quickly how to handle a horse who didn't want to do the things I wanted him to do. I also learned how to duck the low hanging branches that Saddle would sometimes walk under as I rode him. (I could have made him go around, but that would've spoiled the fun.) I also remember when Saddle bucked my sister and I off when I was between the ages of five and seven. Both of us had wanted to ride him that day, so my father decided to have us ride double as he led Saddle. The old pony decided that was too much to ask for and bucked. I don't think my sister ever rode him after that. I didn't give up, though.
Rest in peace, old horse. You will be missed. But I'm sure I'll see you again someday.
(Special thanks to Petr Kratochvil for releasing a public domain source for the image in this post.)
It's been a while since my last post. Unfortunately, life has been a bit crazy for the past few weeks. Between a crazy project at work, keeping up with dance classes, and fighting off what I can only assume was the stomach bug from hell, blogging has fallen quite low on my list of priorities. However, now that I have a half hour or so before I need to run to the company holiday party, I thought I'd take a few moments to write a bit about my adventure with friends to Toronto last Saturday.
Every year, my jazz instructor, Marina, goes to Toronto the Saturday after Thanksgiving. She had mentioned it to Rudi, who decided to go with her. At some point, they got the crazy idea to invite me. Having heard about these excursions from a couple different sources, I was all too eager to accept that invitation. So that morning, I crawled out of bed, into some clothes, and drove over to Marina's house. I was there by about 6:15. Rudi got there a half hour or so later, and we were on the road by about 7:00 that morning.
The drive up was pleasant and uneventful. We only made one stop, and that was at the border. This allowed us to exchange our currency and grab a quick breakfast at Tim Horton's. Then we went through the checkpoint and continued on our way to Toronto.
We were in the city by 10:30, so we parked in the garage across the street from the theater we'd be attending that evening and walked down to the facilities where DanceTeq teaches there classes. We arrive about forty five minutes before the modern class started. Class that day was taught by a substitute, Matthew Waldie. The class was too advanced for me (mainly due to the pace rather than complexity of technique), so I watched (which gave me plenty of opportunities to semi-secretly watch Matthew and pray the drool wasn't too obvious) while Marina and Rudi actually participated. Both struggled with the class at various points and Marina was particularly out of breath by the end of class. I actually took a certain amount of pleasure in that realization. After all, I saw in Marina's expression the same exhaustion and sense of pushing beyond her capabilities that I frequently feel when I take her class. So it's nice to see one of my instructors in that same space, herself.
After class, we did a bit of shopping. Of course, this meant walking from the waterfront to the major shopping areas in the city. Fortunately, I had the sense to pack a pair of decent sneakers. Shopping went pretty well, and I even managed to pick up a nice shirt, though I need to lose about another twenty pounds before it looks quite right on me. Unfortunately, the manufacturers of stylish clothing still haven't decided to let those of us in plus sizes look good. But I'll try not to rant too much about that.
After shopping, we made the trek back to the waterfront to grab a quick dinner and head to our show. We went to see "Lost Action" by the Canadian dance company, Kidd Pivot. The show was quite good, especially in terms of strength and technique. The company has four male dancers, and it's amazing to see the kinds of things a dance company can do with that kind of muscle. There was one scene in which all four guys worked together to lift one of the women and move her around the stage, twisting and turning her body. The fact that they did this without popping one of her joints out of socket -- let alone with deceptive ease -- was incredible.
The show itself was a bit confusing. "Lost Action" is an abstract performance piece, and I don't really do well with abstract art, at least not yet. One of the things that I took away from the performance was a sense that it involved a theme of enforced conformity, an observation that Marina and Rudi both felt made a lot of sense at the time. Of course, having just reread what Kidd Pivot says about the performance themselves, I'm not sure I was on base at all. Of course, Christine would point out that this is the beauty of dance. Different people interpret the same thing differently.
After the show, we made a quick, peaceful, and enjoyable trip back home. Rudi and I talked most of the way while Marina slept. Fortunately, she did wake up at the border so we could get across okay.
Overall, it was a fantastic trip and I look forward to making more of them in the future. I certainly couldn't have asked for better traveling companions, either. Hopefully, they feel the same way. (There was that one teasing crack I made to Rudi, though...)
Last Tuesday evening, a woman working one of the kiosks stopped me while I was headed out of the mall. She asked me if I could ask her a question, and I foolishly answered in the affirmative. She ended up grabbing my right thumb and began to work on it with the "miracle three step nail smoother and polisher" she was trying to sell. So she spent three to four minutes going through her lengthy spiel (which I admit was quite entertaining) while she smoothed, buffed, and shined my thumbnail. When she was done, she had me hold my thumbs side by side and compare the nails. Sure enough, my right thumbnail was much shinier, smoother, and nicer to look at. Of course, at this point, the woman encouraged me to buy the whole nail care package she was offering for $40. (When I said no, she offered to go as low as $25.)
The woman made one critical error in her pitch. She was trying to convince me to buy the kit for my sister or my mother. (We had already established the fact that I'm single by the close of her spiel.) It never once occurred to her that I might like to have smooth, shiny nails. In fact, I would encourage anyone selling any sort of "beauty product" to never overlook the possibility that the man you're talking to is either a metrosexual or a gay man. (Okay, in the latter case, it also helps if said gay man also happens to be a bit on the "girly" side.) Had she managed to appeal to my own sense of vanity, she might have made the sale.
As it turns out, she made a sale for Wal-Mart instead. As I walked away looking at my shiny thumbnail and thinking I really did like the way it looked, it occurred to me that just about any department store probably carries a similar product. So today after lunch, I wandered off to Wal-Mart and looked through their nail care aisle. Sure enough, I found a similar three-step tool for working on my nails. (They had a seven-step tool as well, but that just seemed way to complicated for me. I'm not that vain -- at least not yet.) And the silly thing cost me $1.05 rather than $25.
Granted, the $25 kit the woman tried to sell me had much more in it. But she didn't really demonstrate or otherwise do a good job of selling the rest of the kits contents. So I got just what I was looking for and did so inexpensively.
As soon as I got home, I gave my new toy a try. I actually think my nails turned out pretty well. They're not perfect, and I suspect that's because I need a bit more practice (and patience) to get everything just right. But they certainly look better than they did.
And there's just something about making my nails look nice that makes me feel good about myself. I guess it's a pampering thing.
I went to Tilt again tonight. After I had been there for about ten or fifteen minutes, this guy walks over to me and starts dancing with me. I just about fainted.
Granted, he only danced with me for about thirty seconds before he retreated back to the safety of his buddies. And he never approached me again the rest of the night. But it was still a pleasant surprise -- and quite an ego boost.
I wrote what I thought would make a great first date today. I thought I'd share it. Let me know what you think.
For me, the first date is all about getting to know each other and making that first connection. It sets the first stone in the foundation of the rest of the relationship.
For me, that means going someplace quiet and somewhat intimate where we can have either coffee or a full meal. Atmosphere is of the utmost importance, so someplace like Boulder Coffee Company or The Old Toad (before the rush sets in) would be ideal. We would sit and chat for an hour or so as we sipped at our coffee or savored our meals, allowing the thread of conversation to flit to whatever topics came naturally.
If things went well and it was warm enough outside, we would then take a short walk, perhaps a Schoen place or in one of the parks around the city. Ideally we would hold hands or walk arm-in-arm, enjoying the time outdoors and each other's company.
Conversation would continue during the walk, but it would be a little more sparse than it was at dinner. There would also be some comfortable silences as we walked along, taking in our surroundings. After all, such moments are important, and a good couple knows how to appreciate them without filling them with too much chatter.
If bad weather made walking infeasible, then we would take in a nice concert or play. Again, this would be a time to enjoy some quiet moments one another, becoming comfortable with and enjoying one another's presence.
In either case, we would eventually end the date, preferably with a quiet moment where we could exchange our goodbyes and a hug, if not a tender kiss.
Last night, I decided to go dancing at Tilt. I haven't been dancing in over a year, so I thought it was time. I forgot just how much I enjoy it. I think I'm going to start going more often.
Of course, part of the reason I don't go very often is that as of yet, I really don't seem to have any friends who are into going dancing. This means going alone. As a shy guy and bonafide introvert, it's always been intimidating to go by myself. But last night, I actually enjoyed it and didn't mind the fact that I didn't know anyone. So perhaps that's changing.
Of course, the last time I went to Tilt, I also felt awkward because it seemed like a much younger crowd. With the exception of a few of us thirty-somethings (and one rather awesome older gentleman), everyone seemed to still be in college. I noticed, however, that there seemed to be a much better mix last night. Certainly there were still the college kids there (you know, the ones that make you feel like you need to ask for proof of age before you even dare talk to them), there were also a good number of us older folks too. So that made it a more comfortable atmosphere. I'm not sure if it was because I went a bit later this time or what, but it was a nice change.
I also have to say that I was pleasantly surprised when someone pinched my ass as they passed by me. It was a bit disappointing when I realized the "offending" culprit was a woman, however. But hey, for that moment, it was an exciting thought.
Of course, now I'm stiff and tired. But at least I had fun. I think I'll be going again next Saturday night. In fact, I'm seriously going a couple times a month. I need that sort of thing.
The crescent moon rode high in the sky as Lukas approached the old cemetery.He softly padded through the grass, carrying a shovel over his left shoulder.He avoided the stone path, not wanting to make the slightest sound.One of his sources told him that this graveyard still had a caretaker on duty at night.All accounts indicated that the man who filled the job was old and probably would never see or hear the grave robber.But Lukas wanted to take no chances.
Once he made his way past the first row of tombstones, Lukas began to wave among the markers, bending near the more worn ones to read them.He had compiled a list of names of wealthy people who had been buried here between two and three centuries ago.He knew that graves dug for members of those family at that time held the most promise for obtainable booty.
After ten minutes, the grave robber smiled at the tombstone he had just read.It bore the name Anselm, a name that was high on his list.He took a step back, put the blade of his shovel to the ground a few feet from the headstone, and stepped on it to drive the shovel into the dirt.He then pried the shovel and dirt from the ground.
He was about to repeat this process when he heard a low, gravelly voice behind him."I do hope that you are digging your own grave.It will save others the trouble of doing it for you."Lukas spun around to confront the undertaker, only to receive the shock of his life.He stood frozen, his mouth slightly ajar as he stared into the crimson eyes of a dragon.
The creature's scales were black with a slight sheen.The dragon's hide seemed to blend into the blackness of night, only betrayed by the moonlight glinting off it.After a few seconds of shock, the wyrm spoke again, "Well?What do you have to say for yourself?"
At that, Lukas took several scurrying steps backwards, falling over the tombstone in the process.Both he and his shovel fell to the ground, each making a soft thudding sound."Be careful, you fool!" the dragon hissed."You almost broke the oldest marker in this cemetery."
Lukas finally found his voice, though it was strained and tenuous."W-what are you?"
"I should think that is obvious."
"What do you want?"
"At the moment, I want to know why you're seeking to disturb my treasures."
"Your treasures?"Lukas asked.His brain wheeled in fright and confusion."
"Yes, my treasures.This graveyard is their home.Not all dragons hoard their treasures in caves, no matter what the story books say."
"I…see…Are you going to kill me, now?"
"The thought has crossed my mind.I don't take kindly to grave robbers."
"Please don't!"
The dragon sniffed derisively.Lukas watched as a small stream of smoke escaped each nostril."I don't see why I shouldn't.You were trespassing.You invaded my home.An you were about to disturb my treasures."
"I didn't know it was your home!"
"I don't see why that should matter.You were still someplace you do not belong attempting to take something you have no right to."
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry you were caught.And you're sorry that the consequences of being caught may be dire.But you're not sorry for doing wrong."
"Please!I beg you!"Lukas cried, more terrified.
The beast sighed."Oh, very well.I will spare you this time.But do not return, or I shall devour you without a second thought!"
"Yes!Yes!I promise I will never return!I'll never rob another grave!"
The dragon snorted."I should hope not!Now be gone!"
Lukas leaped up and ran towards his home, never looking back.
---
Another figure stepped from the shadows as the grave robber fled.The dragon spoke, not turning to greet this new presence."And how long have you been watching."
"I arrived just in time to hear you scold the young man for tripping over the tombstone.By the way, you surely realize that it's not the oldest tombstone here."
"Of course I know!But for some reason, that statement always puts them more on edge."
"Ah, then the dramatics of terror outweigh accuracy."
"Only when it comes to protecting my treasures."
"You realize he'll tell everyone in town about meeting you, right?"The old man asked after a moment's pause.
"Yes."
"And you realize that some will come out here some night to check it out for themselves?"
"They usually do."
"I didn't think you liked nosy people any more than you liked grave robbers."
"I don't.But at least they're less of a disturbance.Besides, I felt I needed to make my point as strongly as possible with this one."
"Fair enough."The caretaker paused."Of course, you also realize that he probably now thinks there's even more gold and jewelry here than he had first imagined, right?"
"So you figure he assumed I consider such trinkets my treasures?"
"Well, that would be in line with the story books."
The dragon sniffed at that."You humans are so foolish.Well, if he thinks such nonsense, then so be it."
The caretaker chuckled."Yes, I suppose so.But it's late and I'm tired.So I'll leave you to your horde of souls and the collective wisdom entombed here."
"Very well, old friend.Good night."
"Good night to you, as well."With that, the old man began the walk to his home on the far side of the cemetery.The dragon watched him for a few moments before fading away.
After dance class tonight, I decided to stop at Equal Grounds for a chai latte and to say hi to friends. I doubt I was there a half hour even. The place was too crowded for my tastes. So I left as soon as I was done.
On my way out of the coffee shop, I passed this young man -- I'd guess he's in his early twenties -- and two female friends. As I walked past him to turn the corner, he started singing.
He was quite good, and based on the fact that he said something about an audition, I suspect he might be a music major or even a professional singer. Now, I'm a sucker for anyone who expresses artistic talent of any sort, and especially musicians. So as I heard him start to sing, I turned around, leaned against the building, and listened to him belt out a lovely melody.
About ten seconds into the song, he realized I was standing there. He did something of a double take, waved with a nervous smile, and turned his attention back to his friends, never wavering or pausing. (Like I said, he's quite a good vocalist.) After he finished his song, I waited for a break in his conversation with his two friends, and told him he had a great voice. He thanked me, and I turned to resume my walk to my car.
Like I said, I think I surprised him by stopping, and even speaking to him. But I figure if you have a talented voice and you choose to sing on a public sidewalk -- even just for friends -- you have to expect people to stop and listen. It only makes sense we're going to.
The rewards are no-so-subtle reminders of this year’s campaign rhetoric. For men, it’s the “Maverick,” a "sleeve" for self-pleasuring. According to a press release, “He’s always there to lend a hand, he works for every man, and he bucks the status quo.” Women can choose the “Silver Bullet” mini-vibrator, which is “a magical solution to difficult problems” and “a great stress-reliever during these troubled economic times!” The promotion lasts through Nov. 11.
I have to admit that this is the most bizarre and most humorous "reward" I've heard of for doing one's civic duty. Then again, I suppose it also makes sense. I've often joked that the presidential election is merely the process by which we choose which party is going screw us for the next few years. At least Babeland is offering a consolation prize we can use to make it a more pleasurable experience for ourselves.
Be still. Hold your center. Even in your pain and disappointment, breathe deeply. Relish the emotions. For even this dark side of love -- yes, you can use that word -- is of me. Without the bittersweet, the joyous ecstasy could not exist.
Your feelings are a part of you, but they are not the totality of you. You are bigger than them, and they cannot consume you. So let them be. Embrace them. Love them, for they flow out of your pure, beautiful soul.
You are hurting. This is the way of love, especially unrequited love. But it will pass in time, and more joyous aspects of love with assume their place for a season.
Do not stop loving. Continue to love those who do not return it -- at least no in the way you'd like. They are still precious to you. Do not lose sight of that or you will lose yourself.
I am always with you. Love is always with you, for I am love, as are you. Be true to love, me, and yourself.
After nearly a month long silence (not counting a couple friends-only updates), I decided it's finally time to write here again. I apologize for being gone so long. However, life made it necessary. To be honest, between the fact that I've been too busy at work to do much writing and the fact that what I had to write about were things I'm not comfortable sharing publicly, the lengthy silence was necessary.
Of course, I'm still somewhat busy, and not just because of work. My activities with Park Avenue Dance Company are taking up a great deal of my time. I believe that I mentioned that starting this Fall, I'd be taking three classes a week there. True to form, I am now in the Tuesday evening Beginner's Contemporary class, the Wedensday evening Floor-Barre Plus class, and the Saturday morning Beginner's Jazz class. That means that I'm spending between three and a half and four hours dancing every week. Who needs a gym membership with that kind of exercise?
The jazz class is going quite well, though I have a lot to learn. Marina has been quite patient with me, homing in on my need to learn to shift my weight and regain my balance quickly. Fortunately, it's a very small class, so I'm getting a lot of personal attention (and harassment). It's worth every moment, believe me.
However, my involvement with the dance company has moved beyond taking classes and attending performances. After the September performance at ArtisanWorks, Christine took me aside and asked me if I'd be willing to join the board of directors for the company. I agreed, and I attended my first board meeting last Wednesday.
This means that in addition to learning to dance (and getting in better shape), I'm now beginning to spend time trying to sell tickets (are any of my readers interested in buying?) to and otherwise promote ROTO 3, which is coming up in just under three weeks.
So far, I just sold one ticket. However, I'm hoping to sell one or two more at the end of the week. And I have another possible sale, but the person needs to wait until the event is closer to verify she has the money for it. Hopefully, as I work through my friends, I'll sell more. Char has also been kind enough to let me put up a poster at the shop to generate interest. Hopefully, a few ticket sales will result in the process.
I'm also working with another board member to coordinate our attempts to get ROTO on various community calendars in the area. I'm also hoping to get a mention -- if not a brief talk -- on either radio or television. (If not, I'm hoping to at least make the necessary contacts to make such a possibility a reality for next year.) I'm hoping that helping with getting the word out there will make up for the fact that I don't have a lot of friends in the area to whom I can directly sell tickets. ;)
Life is great, but crazy and busy. And to think, I still have to squeeze my day job into the picture.
Yesterday, I bought a copy of How NOT to Write a Novel and began reading it. I learned about the book reading the comments over at Slacktivist, and the title (not to mention the part Fred's commentor quoted) just called to me.
The book is written by a couple of people in the publishing industry. They decided that rather than writing another book filled with hit-or-miss techniques for writing a great novel, they'd describe the numerous mistakes that fledgeling authors make, mistakes which guarantee their manuscript will find the shortest path to the recycling bin.
So far, I've finished the three chapters having to do with common plot mistakes. I'm pleased to report that I've so far managed to avoid most of those in Harald's Story. However, the one section did give me reason to reconsider an early scene in the story. I don't plan on removing or editing it yet, as I think I can justify the scene and it's not that bad -- at least not in my opinion. But when I finish the first draft, I'll go back and look at it as part of the editorial process.
The book itself is rather humorous. I think the examples of bad writing they provide are even funnier. A lot of them involve some sort of fusion between ergonomics and hydraulics, which is just plain weird. I'm starting to wonder if they've chosen to weirdness of the plot device to further emphasize the bad writing they're trying to draw potential writers' attentions to. Or perhaps they created such a totally bizarre subject to avoid hurting anyone's feelings by choosing something that might resemble a potential reader's own poor attempts at writing.
I've been writing a lot of posts about the writing I've been doing. I think I may be getting obsessed. I'm not sure that's a bad thing, though.
Tonight, I wrote the next installment of Harald's Story. If I did everything correctly, it should automatically show up on WOTL tomorrow. At this juncture, I thought it appropriate to offer some of my own musings on this story, and possibly on writing in general.
The section I wrote tonight contains a couple events of significance. The first event is the departure of Father Delling from the tale. Strangely, his passage into the shadows is rather understated, given how fond I and some of my readers have become of him. There's no fanfare or grand speeches. In fact, the goodbyes themselves are not recorded because they are observed from a distance. And yet, this seems appropriate for the old monk. I do not know if he will return. I have played with the possibility that he might make a brief appearance as the story wraps itself up. But even that is merely a possibility.
The other event of significance is not about plot, but the storytelling itself. I have added a new point of view to the narration. This new section is told from the point of view of Captain Soren. To be honest, this both surprises me an troubles me. When I introduced his character, I had no intention of telling his point of view. And yet, tonight's work made it clear that it was appropriate to do so.
This troubles me because I find myself wondering if Soren, a character I introduced to play a relatively small part, might have just taken on a bigger role than I had planned. I grant you that he would not be the first character in the story to do so. Both Berit (who I planned to deny even a name beyond "Girl" when I first imagined her) and Brother Jens were originally introduced as small actors meant to merely push the plot along, and somehow managed to insert themselves into the heart of the tale against my own plans.
Alas, I am a poor author at the mercy of his characters! I fear they may next demand that I include their names be added to the author line. Or perhaps one of them will make mention of their cut of any royalties. It's an amusing thought, though I'm not sure how amusing it really is.
I think the next installment I write will likely be told from Jens's point of view. I'm a bit concerned by that possibility, as I'm not sure I can catch his inner voice correctly. Point of view can be tricky like that, and Jens is possibly the character whose point of view is most difficult for me. I'm not sure whether that's due to how unfamiliar his mindset has become to me or how familiar it used to be.
I'm reminded of a friend of mine, whom I shall call Trish. Six or seven years ago, she tried her hand at writing. For her, writing was one of the ways for her to try to process through her own confusion and resentment toward her funamentalist Christian background. Her main villain was a domineering woman who embodied everything she despised about those from Trish's background that had hurt her. To put it mildly, this villain was a caricature of pure evil. And unless you're trying to write a fairy tale, such caricature's don't really work that well. Fortunately, Trish was trying to write a fairy tale.
Unfortunately for Trish, she tried to write a few chapters from her villains point of view. I can honestly say that those chapters did not work at all. A narrator who oozes that much evil is simply unbelievable, even in a fairy tale. Under such circumstances, you have to make the person's point of view seem at least someone reasonable, even if it's ultimately objectionable.
I sincerely hope that my efforts to relay Brother Jens's point of view is more realistic than Trish's portrayal of the inner workings of her villain's mind. But I still worry that I'll be able to do it justice. Hopefully Brother Jens himself will step up and guide me through the process, as so many of the others have already done.
So, in a previous post, I talked about a writer who said he thinks no one should be announcing their sexuality to everyone in listening or viewing distance. I decided to post the first part of an exchange he and I had over the discussion. (YOu'll notice that my first comment contains the basic points that I later turned into my last post.)
After reading his column, I said the following:
Do you hate it when heterosexual couples demonstrate their heterosexuality by holding hands in public? Do you hate it when heterosexual coworkers demonstrate their heterosexuality at the office by putting pictures of their spouses and children on their desk? Do you hate it when heterosexual men demonstrate their heterosexuality in public by noticeably checking out the good looking woman that walks by them?
Truth be told, people express and demonstrate their sexuality in public all the time. You've just learned to tune most of those instances out.
I'm reminded of one time I wore one of my favorite pride shirts at the Eastview Mall. After walking past the Sprint kiosk twice, the guy actually asked me to stop so he could stare at it and try to figure out what it said. He finally asked me, and then proceeded to get noticeably upset when I told him. At least he had the sense not to verbally complain, as he made the effort to decipher the message. His own nosiness put him in a bad position.
After reading my response, he offered the following reply:
This woman was wearing a T-Shirt that said "Lesbian.com". I think many homosexuals disapprove of this kind of indiscretion. I am advocating a little more discretion from everyone. And the S&Mers can take the hand-cuffs off their rearview mirrors, too. Lol.
I followed up with the following statements:
If you're going to argue she wasn't discreet enough, you're going to have to defend the argument better than that.
If she had been there with her girlfriend and they were holding hands, everyone present still would've known she was a lesbian. How does wearing a tee shirt ultimately differ from that scenario? The exact same information is still divulged to everyone present. So what makes the one discreet and the other one indiscreet?
At this point, he decided to become more truthful about his position by saying the following:
It has to do with culture and civilization. Homosexuality disgusts most people. The current degree of tolerance is a relatively new thing. I know you guys want to keep pushing the envelop, but the rest of us see you as part of a deviant subculture. We don't want you influencing our kids and changing our culture. That's how traditionalists feel. If you are a deviant of some sort, you should be discreet about it. Tragically, homosexuals suffer from a defect, and they should stop trying to convince the rest of us to embrace, celebrate, and be influenced by it.
And there you have it. After a couple back-and-fourth exchanges, he blows his own claims that it's not about anti-gay bias right out of the water.
I'm not surprised, except maybe for how little time it took to reach that point.
Tonight, I learned about the recent experience of Lapriss Gilbert, a black lesbian who got kicked out of a federal building for wearing a Lesbian.com tee shirt. Apparently, a security guard approached her and demanded that she leave under the threat of arrest.
Luckily, said security guard found himself in a rather lonely position, crouching on the creaky limb he climbed out on. Another security guard later escorted Ms. Gilbert back into the building and to the head of the social security line she had been headed for several minutes earlier. And the original guard's actions have been denounced as inappropriate.
I found out about this story because another writer (no link, sorry) agreed with the security guard's actions. He went on to lament how some gay people insist on letting everyone in viewing or hearing distance know about their sexuality. Of course, he assured his readers that he doesn't hate gay people because he doesn't want to see straight people advertise their sexuality either.
I won't argue whether he hates gay people. I will, however, call his claim that he doesn't want to see straight people advertise their sexuality completely hogwash. And I'll tell you exactly why it's hogwash. It's hogwash because I sincerely doubt he has ever complained whenever he's seen a man and woman walk down the street or through the mall holding hands. And yet, that man and woman have sent a clear message to everyone in viewing distance that they are heterosexuals. I also doubt that he has ever complained when a coworker has placed a picture of their spouse on their desk at work. And yet, that coworker has clearly indicated to the entire office that they are heterosexual. I doubt that he has ever complained when he's seen a man check out an attractive woman who just walked by. And yet, that man has announced his heterosexuality to anyone who cared to observe him at that moment.
Okay, in fairness, any and all of those people could have been bisexual rather than heterosexual. But that's irrelevant. Even then, it's clear that these people have broadcast information about their sexual orientation by their actions, and anyone within viewing distance now knows something about their sexuality. And yet, our writer who insists he doesn't want to know about other people's sexuality regardless of whether they're gay or straight didn't say a word. In fact, it's likely that he never even gave a second thought about these and similar incidents.
And that's the truth. People do little things all the time that broadcast their sexuality. And most of us ignore them. We certainly don't feel the need to complain about the fact that unwanted knowledge about their sexuality has been thrust upon us. So why does the fact that a woman decided to broadcast that same information by wearing a tee shirt result in a different response?
One likely reason for that difference is that the person objecting to a Lesbian.com tee shirt automatically thinks about what the wearer of the shirt does in her bedroom. And that's what the objecting person really wants to avoid. And I don't blame him for that.
However, I do take issue with his attempt to blame his tendency to think about what gay people do in the bedroom on anyone other than himself. And that's what this is really about. You see, he doesn't see a man and woman walking hand-in-hand and immediately start thinking about how the couple might get freaky later that night. Instead, he thinks, "Look, a nice couple. Now, do I want to go to Dick's or Sears first?"
The real solution to his problem is to quit obsessing over what LGBT people do after they turn out the lights at night. The real solution is to re-train himself so that the first thought that comes into his mind when he sees a woman in a Lesbian.com tee shirt is, "Oh, she's a lesbian. I wonder how my team will do against the Raiders tonight" rather than "Oh no! A lesbian! I wonder how much carpet she's licked so far this week! Ew! That's disgusting!"
Of course, he doesn't have to solve his problem at all. He can go on suffering through the troubling thoughts he has whenever he's confronted with someone who has a sexual orientation that makes him uncomfortable. But if he thinks that's the fault of LGBT people, he's deluding himself. And ultimately, he has every right to delude himself.
But he's nuts if he thinks I or any other LGBT person is going to feed into or otherwise enable his delusions.
Often times, Christians complain that the word "homophobia" gets thrown around too easily and too quickly. They argue that they shouldn't be labeled a homophobe simply because they believe same sex sexual relationships sinful. And in some cases, they may be right.
But let's be honest, here. A significant number of Christians -- even those who complain that the word "homophobia" is used too quickly -- don't stop ab believing same sex sexual relationships are sinful. And some of the things that they go on to say and do definitely qualify as homophobia.
Take for example what happened to my blogging buddy, Pomo last month. (Sadly, I didn't find out about this until today.) Pomo was a teacher at a Christian school. Last month, he was called into a lengthy meeting in which he was told he was being let go (though they'd greatly appreciate it if he'd resign so they don't have to look too bad by firing him outright). The reason for this meeting? The principal of the school had recently been informed that Pomo is gay.
Interesting, said principal learned this information from someone he had never met before, who knew Pomo from two years ago when Pomo was involved in an ex-gay ministry. (Pomo only recently decided to embrace his sexuality.) Pomo didn't tell the principal. None of Pomo's coworker's told the principal. None of Pomo's students told the principal. (To the best of my knowledge, no student even knew Pomo was gay, and I'm not sure any co-worker did either.) Some trouble-maker from another city with an axe to grind with Pomo (said trouble-maker was upset that Pomo decided to quit trying to de-gay himself or live a life of celibacy) told the principal.
Now bear in mind the following things:
1. Pomo had been an excellent teacher and did his job well.
2. Pomo also served as a football coach and did a great job there as well.
3. Both Pomo's students and his football players adored Pomo. He had built powerful relationships with them.
4. Pomo is a devout Christian (and before anyone tells me you can't be gay and a Christian, they better be prepared to show me the canonical creed that mentions sexual orientation that any orthodox denomination of Christianity endorses and recites regularly), and modeled Christian values for his students regularly.
In my mind, a decent principal would've looked at Pomo's teaching record and reputation at the school and told said trouble-maker to take a hike. But this principal had other thoughts. So he started looking into the matter. And that investigation soon led to Pomo being out of a job. Allow me to list the resulting consequences:
1. The school is out a great teacher.
2. The students are out a great teacher they came to respect and admire.
3. The football players are out a great coach they came to respect and admire. (One football even quit football when he first learned Pomo wouldn't be returning, though another coach convinced him to stay with it.)
4. Pomo's fellow teachers have lost a known and reliable ally in their efforts to educate the students at the school.
5. Pomo is out of a job and now has to find new work.
All of this is because some busy-body told the principle that Pomo is gay. All of this is because the principle decided that the possibility that Pomo might be gay was too "important" to ignore the rumors of a trouble-maker out to hurt someone else. All of this is because the entire school administration involved in the decision-making process decided that the fact that Pomo is gay is more important than all the good he has done as a teacher and coach and all the people this decision has hurt.
Dear readers, when someone decides that the fact that Pomo is gay is more important than everything else I have mentioned, that is homophobia. In fact, I'd go one step further and say that it's idolatry.
I think what makes this whole thing even more scandalous is the fact that after telling Pomo he would not be allowed to teach, the administration asked him to resign so they could save the public embarrassment of publicly admitting why they're forcing him out. That additionally puts their cowardice over their supposed principles. If they were doing this on principle, they should have the courage to publicly admit that. But they don't.
But then, homophobes aren't known for their courage.
This morning, my father called to let me know that his plans had changed suddenly, so he would not be coming to Rochester today. He also let me know that the reason that his plans had changed because our old pony, Saddle, died in the middle of the night. So Dad has to see to that today.
