Showing posts with label Triumph. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Triumph. Show all posts
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Popcorn
Speaking of evolution: Knowing that I am committed to not wearing my Angry Woman costume anymore and knowing that starting later this year, and continuing on for who knows how long, The Hateful Cow Club will be mooing louder and uglier about me I have decided to adopt the attitude of a good friend of mine. He recently said, "Wow…this should be an interesting ride. I’ll have to grab some popcorn and see how it all plays out." Of course, he was referring to my love life - but the same can be said for the rest of my existence as well.
I'm going to print out the above picture to keep on my desk as a reminder and "Popcorn" is my new catch-word. The word to keep me on track; to remind me to never take anything, especially myself, too seriously; and to not take the Hate Bait but to just grab some popcorn, kick back, be entertained by it all and just see how it all plays out.
In the name of Martha Beck, Amen.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
18, Clueless And Baby Hungry
Okay, so part of me thinks this is funny. Generally speaking, the mocking of anything BYU brightens my day right up. And this targets BYU co-eds. Even better. There are some great lines - "We'd marry a tree as long as it served a mission" being my personal favorite.
The other part of me, however, started watching and immediately felt the familiar burning and itching sensation I get when I come in contact with anything Provo related.
This video is funny because it is true. And it is sad for that very same reason.
When I got married, at the ripe old age of 25 (nearly an Old Maid by LDS standards) I audited a dance class at The "Y." The class was, of course, filled with girls ages 18 - 21 years old. One day I was sitting around with a couple of the girl's in my class and somehow my age came up. Both of their heads shot up and they looked at me with wide eyes.
Girl #1: "Wow, I hope I look as good as you do when I'm your age."
Girl #2: "Oh my gosh, you just gave me so much hope. I am graduating in a few months and have been so upset that I'm not married yet. If you just got married and you're 25, that means that I still have a chance."
She was 21 years old. Barf.
Even then, being the Super Mormon that I was, I was stunned. I didn't even know what to say to them. But, I sure as hell do now. Those girls are responsible for the speech I gave my cousins when they were in high school and have given BOTH of my kids ad nauseum. It goes something like this:
Don't you DARE get married until you are at least (1) 25 years old (though I would prefer 35), have (2) Gotten an education (3) Have a viable way of supporting yourself, and have (4) Have traveled the world. You cannot possibly give yourself to someone until you know who that someone is you are giving. And the same goes for the person you are considering marrying. DO NOT permanently bind yourself to another person until you BOTH have a solid idea of who you are and what you really want out of life.
Argh. When we're young we just don't get it. We don't listen. We think we know it all. And then one day, BAM! We get it. And we wish we would have listened.
The following poem, written by my mother, is one of my absolute favorites. I wish that having this memorized and recited 5 times a day was a pre-requisite for graduation from The "Y." It would make for much happier marriages and families.
On Nest Building
Mud is not bad for nest building.
Mud and sticks
And a fallen feather or two will do
And require no reaching.
I could rest there, with my tiny ones,
Sound for a season, at least.
But –
If I may fly awhile –
If I may cut through a sunset going out
And rainbow coming back,
Color upon color sealed in my eyes –
If I may have the unboundaried skies
For my study,
Clouds, cities, rivers for my rooms –
If I may search the centuries
For melody and meaning –
If I may try for the sun –
I shall come back
Bearing such beauties
Gleaned from God’s and man’s very best
I shall come filled.
And then –
Oh, the nest I can build!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Nothing On Earth Can Defeat You, Huh?
"I have been checking your site every hour waiting for you to post your thoughts and massive excitement about the overturning the Prop 8. Hurry! Yahoo!"
Yes, I have been without Internet but I really don't think there is much to say that hasn't already been said. Glorious day. I got the phone call. Cried, hugged my kids, and had an internal party with my daddy. It was as it should have been.
Congratulations my friends. Go get married.
[Photos: Spencer & Tyler (from "8") & Happy Lady (my mother's secret twin) in SF; and Jeff speaking in SLC.]
Yes, I have been without Internet but I really don't think there is much to say that hasn't already been said. Glorious day. I got the phone call. Cried, hugged my kids, and had an internal party with my daddy. It was as it should have been.
Congratulations my friends. Go get married.
[Photos: Spencer & Tyler (from "8") & Happy Lady (my mother's secret twin) in SF; and Jeff speaking in SLC.]
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Living Out Loud
The BEST comment was left on yesterday's post. "Don't just have "near life" experiences. Blow the top off of "just living". Create the kind of memories people will be cheerful, joyous and inspired about at your funeral."
Amen Sistah! "Near life" experience was a play on words. One that doesn't even come close to what I want to be, and sometimes actually succeed at, having. Here's to "blowing the top off" of life and having a deeply profound, totally alive, freakishly daring, infinitely creative, stunningly loving, fierce & fearless, happygasmic Total Life Experience!
* * *
Related Links:
Living Without Apology
In The Face Of
Amen Sistah! "Near life" experience was a play on words. One that doesn't even come close to what I want to be, and sometimes actually succeed at, having. Here's to "blowing the top off" of life and having a deeply profound, totally alive, freakishly daring, infinitely creative, stunningly loving, fierce & fearless, happygasmic Total Life Experience!
* * *
Related Links:
Living Without Apology
In The Face Of
Thursday, March 25, 2010
If I Could Have Been
When I was in high school we did a production of the musical Working. Every night I would sit in the wings listening to Beth Arago sing "If I Could Have Been" and every night, in my head, I would sing along. "If I could have been, what I could have been, I could have been something..."
I was 16 years old and could imagine few things worse than being old, like 40, and looking back and thinking If Only. "If only I could have... If only I would have... If only I had..."
Fast forward almost 26 years later and here I am - nearing 42. And I still sing that song, only now it has such deep personal meaning. And it hurts. Nearly every day of my life I feel the wind of If Only. Sometimes it is only a light breeze and sometimes it's a hurricane. When I was sixteen years old, backstage during our productions of Working, my father had only been dead a few months. I was hanging on for dear life but still had no way of knowing how deeply that event would affect me and the course my life would take as a result of it. I had no way of knowing how deeply I would be affected by my membership in the Mormon Church and how it would color and dictate enormous life decisions and choices I would make. I still believed that I had the world at my fingertips and that my life would play out exactly as I wanted it to. If only...
If only they hadn't died... if only I hadn't married... if only I hadn't dated... if only winter wasn't so hard... if only I had been braver... if only I had fought harder... if only I had left sooner...
The other day I was getting my hair done by my friend Cassie and, as I usually do around her, felt the wind blow. I met Cassie several years ago and she has become one of my nearest and dearest. The thing that reached out and violently bitch-slapped me when I first met her was that she was me when I was in my early 20's if only I had been allowed, by both myself and the world around me, to just be me. Cassie is talented, successful, beautiful, funny as hell and, most importantly, free. Cassie just is. And I wonder why that makes me ache like it does.
I think it's because I feel like I am still running a million miles an hour to catch up - to make up for lost time. But I am doing it. I am getting there. And, really, it's all about perspective isn't it? The hopeful thought that I am clinging to is that, somewhere out there, there is an 80 year old woman looking at me the way I look at Cassie and saying to herself:
"If only..."
* * *
Related Posts:
Livin' The Dream
And The Oscar Goes To
Living Without Apology
Never Too Late
I was 16 years old and could imagine few things worse than being old, like 40, and looking back and thinking If Only. "If only I could have... If only I would have... If only I had..."
Fast forward almost 26 years later and here I am - nearing 42. And I still sing that song, only now it has such deep personal meaning. And it hurts. Nearly every day of my life I feel the wind of If Only. Sometimes it is only a light breeze and sometimes it's a hurricane. When I was sixteen years old, backstage during our productions of Working, my father had only been dead a few months. I was hanging on for dear life but still had no way of knowing how deeply that event would affect me and the course my life would take as a result of it. I had no way of knowing how deeply I would be affected by my membership in the Mormon Church and how it would color and dictate enormous life decisions and choices I would make. I still believed that I had the world at my fingertips and that my life would play out exactly as I wanted it to. If only...
If only they hadn't died... if only I hadn't married... if only I hadn't dated... if only winter wasn't so hard... if only I had been braver... if only I had fought harder... if only I had left sooner...
The other day I was getting my hair done by my friend Cassie and, as I usually do around her, felt the wind blow. I met Cassie several years ago and she has become one of my nearest and dearest. The thing that reached out and violently bitch-slapped me when I first met her was that she was me when I was in my early 20's if only I had been allowed, by both myself and the world around me, to just be me. Cassie is talented, successful, beautiful, funny as hell and, most importantly, free. Cassie just is. And I wonder why that makes me ache like it does.
I think it's because I feel like I am still running a million miles an hour to catch up - to make up for lost time. But I am doing it. I am getting there. And, really, it's all about perspective isn't it? The hopeful thought that I am clinging to is that, somewhere out there, there is an 80 year old woman looking at me the way I look at Cassie and saying to herself:
"If only..."
* * *
Related Posts:
Livin' The Dream
And The Oscar Goes To
Living Without Apology
Never Too Late
Monday, November 16, 2009
Letting It Go
Okay, so it turns out I’m not actually a gay man. I know – stop the presses. That statement might make you laugh but the truth of it has slapped me upside all four cheeks and changed everything.
A few weeks ago I was talking with a friend about all my reasons for being so pissed off at the Mormon Church and for speaking out about gay rights and, mid-sentence, I hit a wall and literally could not finish what I was saying. And that was it. Just like that I was done. I am done. I can no longer be angry like I have been. I can no longer hate like I have. And I can no longer spend my life marching at the front of someone else’s parade.
That is not to say that I am done caring about the rights of my fellow human beings or that I am done having very specific conversations at very specific times on very specific topics. It just means that I cannot care about someone else’s rights more than I care about my own happiness. I cannot care more about someone else’s sexuality more than I care about the state of my own personal fulfillment. And I cannot care more about tearing down than I do about building and blessing.
I cannot fill my heart with so much passion for gay men that there is no room for the love of a wonderful straight man. I cannot be driven to be a good daughter more than I am driven to have a healthy and autonomous self. And I cannot fill my guts with more anger, more righteous indignation and more piss and vinegar about what someone else says and does than I do with love and kindness and hope and the freedom of forgiveness and passion for being the one in charge of creating my own blissfully happy life and in rocking the planet with as much light and laughter as I possibly can.
My internal scales have been tipped in the wrong direction for far too long. And I am done.
I have been asked by many people what I think of the Mormon Church’s latest statement. I think it is a smokescreen. I think it is an attempt to clean up an ugly and embarrassing mess and a way to get out of the corner they painted themselves into. Is it a step? Sure, but not an enlightened one. It was a PR move, plain and simple. They still referred to full equality as “violence” against marriage. Everyone is Ooo-ing and Ahh-ing because a bully has agreed not to hit so hard. Whatever.
Both Reed and Dustin Lance Black, as well as many others, have spoken out eloquently about it. You all know where I stand and how I feel. Bishop John Shelby Spong wrote a Stunning Manifesto that I echo with all my heart. He will no longer... And I will no longer...
Change is already here. It is a done deal. Many, many individuals and institutions are still digging their heels and will bring up the rear years after the rest – but they will get there. There are many that are still in those institutions and surrounded by those individuals that are working hard to make a difference and then there are those to whom it is all just a non issue who have moved on with their lives and are the embodiment of “being the change they wish to see in the world.”
Memo to my fellow Ex-Mormons: As M, a dear friend of mine, wrote in response to the recent events: “It's part of the historic symptoms of my LDS disease to be looking for crumbs to fall off the patriarchal table. So the moment I start looking, like the abused woman that I am, I gotta remind myself – keep walking away, nothing has changed. Once the spotlight is on – because either the cops have been called or the neighbors have complained – he sends her flowers or can be seen washing her car or offers to take the kids for the day. The woman sighs and says, "This time I think he's really changed," and the community sighs with relief because it wants to avoid confrontation. Morsels dropped to avoid the big one. And yes, the woman experiences momentary relief and is lulled once again into staying in the relationship. Until the next one, or until she wakes up one day all alone to realize she has wasted her life waiting for things to change. And she called it love. And hope. Morsels dropped to keep change at bay. Part of the symptoms of the disease, the dance between abuser and abused, and the community outside marvels. Yikes. This is like saying, ‘Good progress. He's quit beating her. But she still can't own the house, use the check book or sleep under the same roof at night.’ Abuse is abuse is abuse.”
It is time to let it go – the anger, the pain, the massive confusion… Haven’t we had enough? Haven’t our lives been dictated by the Mormon Church long enough? Haven’t we given it enough of our minds, hearts, time and energy? Far too many of us woke up and found ourselves in a mental ward and are still running around the halls yelling and focusing on all the things we see that are crazy – all the things that hurt us and robbed us of so much – rather than opening the doors and just walking away. Rather than basking in the sunshine and embracing lives filled with joy and wholeness and the buckets and buckets of love and freedom that are ours for the taking.
It is time to let go. It is time to move on. It is time to know peace.
The issues are still there and I do still care about them – but never again will I care about them MORE than I care about myself, my children and my loved ones being happy and thoroughly enjoying the playground of this glorious thing we call life.
A few weeks ago I was talking with a friend about all my reasons for being so pissed off at the Mormon Church and for speaking out about gay rights and, mid-sentence, I hit a wall and literally could not finish what I was saying. And that was it. Just like that I was done. I am done. I can no longer be angry like I have been. I can no longer hate like I have. And I can no longer spend my life marching at the front of someone else’s parade.
That is not to say that I am done caring about the rights of my fellow human beings or that I am done having very specific conversations at very specific times on very specific topics. It just means that I cannot care about someone else’s rights more than I care about my own happiness. I cannot care more about someone else’s sexuality more than I care about the state of my own personal fulfillment. And I cannot care more about tearing down than I do about building and blessing.
I cannot fill my heart with so much passion for gay men that there is no room for the love of a wonderful straight man. I cannot be driven to be a good daughter more than I am driven to have a healthy and autonomous self. And I cannot fill my guts with more anger, more righteous indignation and more piss and vinegar about what someone else says and does than I do with love and kindness and hope and the freedom of forgiveness and passion for being the one in charge of creating my own blissfully happy life and in rocking the planet with as much light and laughter as I possibly can.
My internal scales have been tipped in the wrong direction for far too long. And I am done.
I have been asked by many people what I think of the Mormon Church’s latest statement. I think it is a smokescreen. I think it is an attempt to clean up an ugly and embarrassing mess and a way to get out of the corner they painted themselves into. Is it a step? Sure, but not an enlightened one. It was a PR move, plain and simple. They still referred to full equality as “violence” against marriage. Everyone is Ooo-ing and Ahh-ing because a bully has agreed not to hit so hard. Whatever.
Both Reed and Dustin Lance Black, as well as many others, have spoken out eloquently about it. You all know where I stand and how I feel. Bishop John Shelby Spong wrote a Stunning Manifesto that I echo with all my heart. He will no longer... And I will no longer...
Change is already here. It is a done deal. Many, many individuals and institutions are still digging their heels and will bring up the rear years after the rest – but they will get there. There are many that are still in those institutions and surrounded by those individuals that are working hard to make a difference and then there are those to whom it is all just a non issue who have moved on with their lives and are the embodiment of “being the change they wish to see in the world.”
Memo to my fellow Ex-Mormons: As M, a dear friend of mine, wrote in response to the recent events: “It's part of the historic symptoms of my LDS disease to be looking for crumbs to fall off the patriarchal table. So the moment I start looking, like the abused woman that I am, I gotta remind myself – keep walking away, nothing has changed. Once the spotlight is on – because either the cops have been called or the neighbors have complained – he sends her flowers or can be seen washing her car or offers to take the kids for the day. The woman sighs and says, "This time I think he's really changed," and the community sighs with relief because it wants to avoid confrontation. Morsels dropped to avoid the big one. And yes, the woman experiences momentary relief and is lulled once again into staying in the relationship. Until the next one, or until she wakes up one day all alone to realize she has wasted her life waiting for things to change. And she called it love. And hope. Morsels dropped to keep change at bay. Part of the symptoms of the disease, the dance between abuser and abused, and the community outside marvels. Yikes. This is like saying, ‘Good progress. He's quit beating her. But she still can't own the house, use the check book or sleep under the same roof at night.’ Abuse is abuse is abuse.”
It is time to let it go – the anger, the pain, the massive confusion… Haven’t we had enough? Haven’t our lives been dictated by the Mormon Church long enough? Haven’t we given it enough of our minds, hearts, time and energy? Far too many of us woke up and found ourselves in a mental ward and are still running around the halls yelling and focusing on all the things we see that are crazy – all the things that hurt us and robbed us of so much – rather than opening the doors and just walking away. Rather than basking in the sunshine and embracing lives filled with joy and wholeness and the buckets and buckets of love and freedom that are ours for the taking.
It is time to let go. It is time to move on. It is time to know peace.
The issues are still there and I do still care about them – but never again will I care about them MORE than I care about myself, my children and my loved ones being happy and thoroughly enjoying the playground of this glorious thing we call life.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Never Too Late
Now that I, and most of my friends, are heading into our forties - we are approaching the time o' the mid-life-crisis. While this term is usually reserved for men that start sleeping with their secretaries and get toupees, tans, man-jewelery and hot, red sports cars - there are plenty of women that have the "Holy Shit!" moment and fly into an existential panic. Or depression. Or both - depending on the levels of chocolate in their systems.
Women in their forties that have children are no longer needed all the freaking time by said offspring, and find themselves suddenly faced with the reality that their body parts no longer point in the direction they used to and that there is a whole trunk load full of dreams they once had that got put away.
Men and women at this point of life pretty much seem to fall apart in order to cast off the old and bring in every wonderful new possibility for themselves. They get to discover what they will come to see, if they so choose, as the unbelievable joy of personal reinvention.
I write as though I am not a part of "they." I sooo am - it's just that my personal life crisis's started so much earlier that, now that I am entering my mid-life-point, I have already been reinventing myself for a bloody long time. The great thing we can come to realize is that we are never done creating and becoming. We get to choose what no longer works and get rid of it and choose what we want to do and experience and become and embrace it and dance with it. We get to keep re-looking and reinventing ourselves until the day we die. How fabulous is that?
Two of my closest friends, Suzette and Dorothy, wanted to shake things up for themselves. Dorothy wanted to learn to play the guitar and Suzette wanted to play the drums. So they got instruments, Suzette got a teacher - Dorothy got online and taught herself, and they started their own "band practice" in the garage of Suzette's house. They were having so much fun they decided to pick a few songs to work up and sing along to. This led to them deciding to challenge themselves beyond anything they were comfortable with - which led to them booking a recording studio and then shooting their own video.
Somewhere along the way they asked me to be their vocal coach, which I was totally willing to do. They were terrified. I have known Suzette since we were 12 and she is the LAST person I would ever think would sing in front of people EVER. Dorothy was pretty much the same. I kid you not, for the first several lessons I was not allowed to look at them. I had to keep my eyes closed or my back to them. But they pushed and stretched themselves into a whole new shape. When I saw the final product I sobbed. What they did was freaking incredible.
Time to get inspired Internetland. Dig it out, dust it off and totally shake it up!
Women in their forties that have children are no longer needed all the freaking time by said offspring, and find themselves suddenly faced with the reality that their body parts no longer point in the direction they used to and that there is a whole trunk load full of dreams they once had that got put away.
Men and women at this point of life pretty much seem to fall apart in order to cast off the old and bring in every wonderful new possibility for themselves. They get to discover what they will come to see, if they so choose, as the unbelievable joy of personal reinvention.
I write as though I am not a part of "they." I sooo am - it's just that my personal life crisis's started so much earlier that, now that I am entering my mid-life-point, I have already been reinventing myself for a bloody long time. The great thing we can come to realize is that we are never done creating and becoming. We get to choose what no longer works and get rid of it and choose what we want to do and experience and become and embrace it and dance with it. We get to keep re-looking and reinventing ourselves until the day we die. How fabulous is that?
Two of my closest friends, Suzette and Dorothy, wanted to shake things up for themselves. Dorothy wanted to learn to play the guitar and Suzette wanted to play the drums. So they got instruments, Suzette got a teacher - Dorothy got online and taught herself, and they started their own "band practice" in the garage of Suzette's house. They were having so much fun they decided to pick a few songs to work up and sing along to. This led to them deciding to challenge themselves beyond anything they were comfortable with - which led to them booking a recording studio and then shooting their own video.
Somewhere along the way they asked me to be their vocal coach, which I was totally willing to do. They were terrified. I have known Suzette since we were 12 and she is the LAST person I would ever think would sing in front of people EVER. Dorothy was pretty much the same. I kid you not, for the first several lessons I was not allowed to look at them. I had to keep my eyes closed or my back to them. But they pushed and stretched themselves into a whole new shape. When I saw the final product I sobbed. What they did was freaking incredible.
Time to get inspired Internetland. Dig it out, dust it off and totally shake it up!
Monday, August 31, 2009
In The Face Of
The other day I was driving down the freeway and saw a billboard that I have seen a few times before. It was a picture of Erik Weihenmayer with the caption "Climbed Everest Blind." Being the emotional creature I am, I got all teary and moved.
I am a sucker for triumphs of the human spirit. This is why I totally dig watching dancers with missing limbs and twisted bodies and Team Hoyt. Bethany Hamilton lost her arm in a shark attack and continued to surf. Helen Keller overcame her mind blowing limitations to become an amazing writer and teacher. We honor Christopher Reeves and Michael J. Fox and Stephen Hawking. It isn't hard to find examples of people that overcome incredible odds by saying, "The hell I can't."
But what about the rest of us? What about those of us that have full use of all our limbs? What about those of us that have functioning bodies with all five senses intact? For us it's just dancing and climbing and running right? Yes we push ourselves to do great things, and oftentimes succeed, but don't really have billboards erected in our honor.
But, what if we could look into the human spirit and catch a glimpse of the hidden miracles that are possible? Every single person on this planet has been injured and crippled in some small, or enormous, way.
How many of us have lost limbs of love and faith and trust? How many of us have been crippled by abuse and betrayal? How many of us have had our minds and hearts mangled nearly beyond recognition and have chosen to overcome and heal and live a full emotional life anyway?
Is having your heart broken by betrayal or your spirit crushed by abuse and then making the conscious choice to continue to love and to be truly alive in the face of that experience any less wondrous than climbing a mountain blind? I don't believe so.
What if we could take a look at our greatest emotional handicaps, our deepest wounds and fears, and choose to act in the face of them anyway? What if we could dig that deep and look with that much courage and overcome with that much determination? What if the world could see the ways in which our hearts and minds have said, "The hell I can't."
What if the world was covered with billboards of everyday human beings that said "Heart was broken. Loved anyway." "Was betrayed. Trusted anyway." "Body and mind were abused. Lived with courage anyway." "Faith was destroyed. Believed anyway."
To me, those reminders of the power of the human spirit would be no less remarkable and moving than the others. Maybe even more so.
Take some time to look inside and make a choice to act in the face of your limitations. Ask yourself, "What will my billboard say?"
See it. And then do it.
I promise you there will be cheering.
I am a sucker for triumphs of the human spirit. This is why I totally dig watching dancers with missing limbs and twisted bodies and Team Hoyt. Bethany Hamilton lost her arm in a shark attack and continued to surf. Helen Keller overcame her mind blowing limitations to become an amazing writer and teacher. We honor Christopher Reeves and Michael J. Fox and Stephen Hawking. It isn't hard to find examples of people that overcome incredible odds by saying, "The hell I can't."
But what about the rest of us? What about those of us that have full use of all our limbs? What about those of us that have functioning bodies with all five senses intact? For us it's just dancing and climbing and running right? Yes we push ourselves to do great things, and oftentimes succeed, but don't really have billboards erected in our honor.
But, what if we could look into the human spirit and catch a glimpse of the hidden miracles that are possible? Every single person on this planet has been injured and crippled in some small, or enormous, way.
How many of us have lost limbs of love and faith and trust? How many of us have been crippled by abuse and betrayal? How many of us have had our minds and hearts mangled nearly beyond recognition and have chosen to overcome and heal and live a full emotional life anyway?
Is having your heart broken by betrayal or your spirit crushed by abuse and then making the conscious choice to continue to love and to be truly alive in the face of that experience any less wondrous than climbing a mountain blind? I don't believe so.
What if we could take a look at our greatest emotional handicaps, our deepest wounds and fears, and choose to act in the face of them anyway? What if we could dig that deep and look with that much courage and overcome with that much determination? What if the world could see the ways in which our hearts and minds have said, "The hell I can't."
What if the world was covered with billboards of everyday human beings that said "Heart was broken. Loved anyway." "Was betrayed. Trusted anyway." "Body and mind were abused. Lived with courage anyway." "Faith was destroyed. Believed anyway."
To me, those reminders of the power of the human spirit would be no less remarkable and moving than the others. Maybe even more so.
Take some time to look inside and make a choice to act in the face of your limitations. Ask yourself, "What will my billboard say?"
See it. And then do it.
I promise you there will be cheering.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Breaking The Rock
I love the image that was used in the speech (below) by Patricia Clarkson at the HRC benefit in New Orleans - taken from the quote by Tennessee Williams "The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks."
It is a theme of "Dancing With Crazy" that has been a big one for me in my life - which you all will read once the damn thing is published. Sheesh. But what a glorious picture: Something as seemingly tiny and fragile as a seed - a flower, breaking through something as seemingly hard and impenetrable as a mountain - a rock.
This speaks to something so much bigger than equal rights and those who are fighting to achieve them (as important as that is). It speaks to the human soul that has been buried and covered and lost in the dark - smashed by the rock of the lies and pain of life. It speaks to the ability we all have, in the deepest parts of our beings, to not give up. To struggle and to grow and to reach for the light. To stand tall and beautiful, having fought the fight of a lifetime, with our hearts and petals open and alive in the sunshine.
There is no feeling that comes close. Except maybe love. Because that is, ultimately, what it is. Love. Love of Self. Love of Life. And, Love of that word that I have only recently begun even speaking again. God. (I think I just heard several of you fall off your chairs.)
Coochie. Coochie. Coochie.
So, I just got back from a quick trip to LA. Saw the Long Beach production of "Facing East." It was a wonderful weekend of book and film schmoozing and creating and making peace with the city that tried to kill me two decades ago. All was fantabulous until my flight home.
Okay, I get the whole "terrorists exist therefore you must get naked before boarding and not carry anything containing liquid that is bigger than a freaking pimple" but come on... Long beach is a very small airport. The happy people that worked the ticket counter, also worked the gate and had left by the time we got there to check baggage. I was not able to check my bags. So at the security check point I explained that NO ONE was there to check my bags and that I was not packed for carrying on. I was informed that there was nothing to be done and they proceeded to go through my luggage and toss out ALL my (not inexpensive) shampoo, conditioner, face wash, lotion, body spray, toothpaste, deodorant... They weirdly let me keep my gallon jug of anal lube. Not sure what that was about.
So, I'm balling and bitching to the Airline Gods who tried to appease me by giving me a seat close to David Archuleta. It was sweet of them but I really think that I had earned Blair Underwood or Johnny Depp considering the rude fashion in which they had just raped me.
Good thing I still had my lube.
It is a theme of "Dancing With Crazy" that has been a big one for me in my life - which you all will read once the damn thing is published. Sheesh. But what a glorious picture: Something as seemingly tiny and fragile as a seed - a flower, breaking through something as seemingly hard and impenetrable as a mountain - a rock.
This speaks to something so much bigger than equal rights and those who are fighting to achieve them (as important as that is). It speaks to the human soul that has been buried and covered and lost in the dark - smashed by the rock of the lies and pain of life. It speaks to the ability we all have, in the deepest parts of our beings, to not give up. To struggle and to grow and to reach for the light. To stand tall and beautiful, having fought the fight of a lifetime, with our hearts and petals open and alive in the sunshine.
There is no feeling that comes close. Except maybe love. Because that is, ultimately, what it is. Love. Love of Self. Love of Life. And, Love of that word that I have only recently begun even speaking again. God. (I think I just heard several of you fall off your chairs.)
Coochie. Coochie. Coochie.
So, I just got back from a quick trip to LA. Saw the Long Beach production of "Facing East." It was a wonderful weekend of book and film schmoozing and creating and making peace with the city that tried to kill me two decades ago. All was fantabulous until my flight home.
Okay, I get the whole "terrorists exist therefore you must get naked before boarding and not carry anything containing liquid that is bigger than a freaking pimple" but come on... Long beach is a very small airport. The happy people that worked the ticket counter, also worked the gate and had left by the time we got there to check baggage. I was not able to check my bags. So at the security check point I explained that NO ONE was there to check my bags and that I was not packed for carrying on. I was informed that there was nothing to be done and they proceeded to go through my luggage and toss out ALL my (not inexpensive) shampoo, conditioner, face wash, lotion, body spray, toothpaste, deodorant... They weirdly let me keep my gallon jug of anal lube. Not sure what that was about.
So, I'm balling and bitching to the Airline Gods who tried to appease me by giving me a seat close to David Archuleta. It was sweet of them but I really think that I had earned Blair Underwood or Johnny Depp considering the rude fashion in which they had just raped me.
Good thing I still had my lube.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Own It Baby
Melinda left a comment on the "Faith Promoting BS" post that addressed something I have been thinking about a lot lately. Funny how that works. I have been thinking about how my personal beliefs and attitudes, and those of fellow Ex-Mormons, could absolutely tend to make believing members feel like they're somehow supposed to apologize for believing, for having faith, for having the world view that they do.
I wrote quite a while ago about my personal anthem Live Without Apology. About my conviction that life is to be lived to the absolute fullest, with arms wide open and, most importantly, without apology. The thing I want to make clear is that I believe this, not just for my saucy little ExMo self, but for everyone - including True Blue Mormons.
I may disagree, violently, with the beliefs of an active Mormon just like they will disagree, violently, with mine. That is, not only okay, but absolutely wonderful. Welcome to the diverse nut bowl we live in (which is, by the way, infinitely better than living in a bag of Wonder bread.) As long as everyone adopts the practice of not being assholes (aka: letting others live their lives in peace - without judgement; aka: not beating others over the head with their chosen beliefs; aka: not taking away the rights of fellow human beings and telling them how to live and love and think and feel and worship and play and eat Oreos) I am all over celebrating the wide range of thoughts, opinions, beliefs and practices of my fellow humans. We are each on our own path - learning, growing, searching, experiencing, laughing, crying, dreaming and traveling as best we can.
Here's what I don't get. I meet Mormons all the time who say, "I believe in the church. I KNOW Joseph Smith was a prophet, I KNOW Pres. Monson blah, blah blah..." but they drink and party and have all kinds of fun extra marital sex. I mean, I totally vote for those activities - but if you really and truly believe that they are wrong, what the hell are you doing? If you are living that far outside your own bounds of personal integrity then you must be constantly apologizing internally to yourself and to God. Barf.
I have enormous respect for someone who knows who they are, knows where they want to go, knows what they think - what they feel, and lives their lives out loud for all to see and hear. Melinda is one such person. It is my testimony that Melinda is as true as they come and I wish every freaking person on the planet had a Melinda to hang out and laugh with. She has me totally beat in the entertaining human department. She is beautiful and creative and sweet and fun as hell and so unabashedly out there. If I had to choose one person to be stranded on an island with it would be her. Yes, I would miss men and having fun extra marital sex, but I would not be bored or stop laughing for one second. Melinda kicks serious ass and she is a True Blue Believing Mormon.
When she said, "It made me realize what I love to realize which is that my worldview sounds CRAZY to some people. Somehow I love that," and, "I love that story and find it amusing/baffling that some of the commenters on here would think I'm batty and misled because of it! I suppose it is just as stupid as the peanut butter one, but I guess the kids in high school were right, I'm just a Mormie-Mormon," I thought to myself, "God, if everyone Mormon was a Mormie-Mormon like Melinda, Utah would be the funnest place on earth and I would never have to have another colonic again."
Yes, Melinda, your world view does sound crazy to some people. And so does mine. Yes, many people that read this blog probably would think you're batty and misled. Many people that read this blog think I'm batty and misled. And we both love it! We love being out there and wacky. And, in the end, who the hell cares? We are who we are, we think what we think, we feel what we feel, we believe what we believe and fuck 'em (or, maybe in your case, frick 'em) if they can't deal with it.
There is plenty of sky out there with room for all who want to spread their wings and loop-die loop while singing show tunes. We all have the right to live out loud and be who we really and truly are without apologizing for it whether we are gay, straight, black, white, tall, very-very-very-very small, atheist or a screaming, raging Mormon. Even Chris Buttars has the right to live loud and express himself.
And I have the right to cover him with pig poo at the prom.
I wrote quite a while ago about my personal anthem Live Without Apology. About my conviction that life is to be lived to the absolute fullest, with arms wide open and, most importantly, without apology. The thing I want to make clear is that I believe this, not just for my saucy little ExMo self, but for everyone - including True Blue Mormons.
I may disagree, violently, with the beliefs of an active Mormon just like they will disagree, violently, with mine. That is, not only okay, but absolutely wonderful. Welcome to the diverse nut bowl we live in (which is, by the way, infinitely better than living in a bag of Wonder bread.) As long as everyone adopts the practice of not being assholes (aka: letting others live their lives in peace - without judgement; aka: not beating others over the head with their chosen beliefs; aka: not taking away the rights of fellow human beings and telling them how to live and love and think and feel and worship and play and eat Oreos) I am all over celebrating the wide range of thoughts, opinions, beliefs and practices of my fellow humans. We are each on our own path - learning, growing, searching, experiencing, laughing, crying, dreaming and traveling as best we can.
Here's what I don't get. I meet Mormons all the time who say, "I believe in the church. I KNOW Joseph Smith was a prophet, I KNOW Pres. Monson blah, blah blah..." but they drink and party and have all kinds of fun extra marital sex. I mean, I totally vote for those activities - but if you really and truly believe that they are wrong, what the hell are you doing? If you are living that far outside your own bounds of personal integrity then you must be constantly apologizing internally to yourself and to God. Barf.
I have enormous respect for someone who knows who they are, knows where they want to go, knows what they think - what they feel, and lives their lives out loud for all to see and hear. Melinda is one such person. It is my testimony that Melinda is as true as they come and I wish every freaking person on the planet had a Melinda to hang out and laugh with. She has me totally beat in the entertaining human department. She is beautiful and creative and sweet and fun as hell and so unabashedly out there. If I had to choose one person to be stranded on an island with it would be her. Yes, I would miss men and having fun extra marital sex, but I would not be bored or stop laughing for one second. Melinda kicks serious ass and she is a True Blue Believing Mormon.
When she said, "It made me realize what I love to realize which is that my worldview sounds CRAZY to some people. Somehow I love that," and, "I love that story and find it amusing/baffling that some of the commenters on here would think I'm batty and misled because of it! I suppose it is just as stupid as the peanut butter one, but I guess the kids in high school were right, I'm just a Mormie-Mormon," I thought to myself, "God, if everyone Mormon was a Mormie-Mormon like Melinda, Utah would be the funnest place on earth and I would never have to have another colonic again."
Yes, Melinda, your world view does sound crazy to some people. And so does mine. Yes, many people that read this blog probably would think you're batty and misled. Many people that read this blog think I'm batty and misled. And we both love it! We love being out there and wacky. And, in the end, who the hell cares? We are who we are, we think what we think, we feel what we feel, we believe what we believe and fuck 'em (or, maybe in your case, frick 'em) if they can't deal with it.
There is plenty of sky out there with room for all who want to spread their wings and loop-die loop while singing show tunes. We all have the right to live out loud and be who we really and truly are without apologizing for it whether we are gay, straight, black, white, tall, very-very-very-very small, atheist or a screaming, raging Mormon. Even Chris Buttars has the right to live loud and express himself.
And I have the right to cover him with pig poo at the prom.
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