“that is a lovely shade of lilac”
i think
as the nurse, melissa, places
the
DNR
bracelet
on my father’s thrust-out-wrist.
this moment tastes like a mouthful of pennies.
clawing at the threshold
my brain is trying very hard
to intellectualize my grief.*
so, i return to the comfort of the liminal,
the soft focus of gray space;
of being, and yet not-
of the is and the is not-
because if just for a moment it is not,
then maybe, it truly is not.
then maybe,
it won’t be true
that we didn’t race to text,
“beware the ides of march!” this year.
maybe it won’t be true,
that you’re not going to call me
on my birthday
and say,
“hey, kiddo! happy birthday!”
but it is true.
it is true that you’re not here.
and that you won’t call.
and i am standing alone betwixt and between
hoping for you.
because you are there,
wherever there is.
and i am here wishing i could pull you back
into the wilderness of between
here
and
there
even for just one more, “hey, kiddo!”
* the attributes of liminality or of liminal personae (“threshold people”) are necessarily ambiguous, since this condition and these persons elude or slip through the network of classifications that normally locate states and positions in cultural space. liminal entities are neither here nor there; they are betwixt and between the positions assigned and arrayed by law, custom, convention, and ceremony. as such, their ambiguous and indeterminate attributes are expressed by a rich variety of symbols in the many societies that ritualize social and cultural transitions. thus, liminality is frequently likened to death, to being in the womb, to invisibility, to darkness, to bisexuality, to the wilderness, and to an eclipse of the sun or moon.” victor turner the ritual process
TikTok and Thoughts* on Belonging
Let me begin by saying how grateful I am that Instagram and Facebook did not exist when I was in middle or high school. (Frankly, college, too.) Which is going to be fairly counterintuitive to a lot of what follows. Life would be far too boring without contradiction!
I was never much of a Music.ly user, and only really lurked on Vine, so did not think that TikTok would offer much by way of an outlet or attenion-grab for me. Typically an early-adapter, I drug my feet (while being asked by literally no one to join) creating a TikTok account, waiting an unprecedented 8 months from its inception to join. (Anyone else remember Emoj.li? No? Exactly.)
A video compilation I came across while jumping around YouTube reminded me of TikTok’s existence, my curiosity piqued, and I joined about 4.5 months ago.
At first, the experience was predominately entertaining–embedding song fragments into deep recesses of my brain and encouraging me to create 15 second “aesthetic” videos of my world. (I’ll leave that to the “VSCO Girls” who have me beat hands down there.)
Then the broad patterns beyond the musical hooks, clever duet videos, and shadow-ban rants, began to emerge that make me appreciate the potential good an app like TikTok can provide: belonging.
What I would have done for a space that, with millions of users feels anonymous, to begin to have an outlet to the broader LGBT community and start to flex my coming-out muscles. To see other gay people (lesbians in particular) expressing themselves and living their lives out and proud through the good and not good moments of “the process”? Lifechanging.
Growing up I had Ellen’s coming-out TV episode.** And I had jokes about “she must be a gym teacher” or “they are life long roommates”… I had a church telling me gay people were backward, sinful, and hell-bound. All of these things were rattling around with my internal anguish over realizing that I did not feel the same way about boys as my friends did and feeling very alone and scared.
Now, in 2019, I scroll through TikTok to see and hear teenagers defining their sexuality–STEMS, STUDS, FEMS–and creating communities of acceptance from hashtags. I have even seen an (adult) lesbian couple meet via TikTok, fall in love over months, and start a life together.
And then there are other adults saying things like “if your family kicks you out, I’ll be your mom. Do you need a hug? I’ll give you a mom hug and tell you to clean your room.” And I weep for how being LGBTQ+ in our society is, truly, growing up. We aren’t “there” yet–but TikTok (of all things!) helps remind me that the “It Gets Better” movement/videos, Ellen’s boldness, Martha P. Johnson’s existence, Harvey Milk’s “recruitment” and even the audacity my wife and I have to have wed means that we are getting to the there, there.
*but not “thots”, thx.
**which I was MAD about for years. It aired during my 15th birthday party and I thoroughly had my thunder stolen!
Introspection
Over the past week, I have had an opportunity to do some introspection.
It has not been terribly comfortable.
And continues to not be terribly comfortable:
seeing your foibles, mistakes, laziness, and manifested insecurities laid out before you is…uh…painful.
This evening that introspection drove me into the depths of some of the oldest posts here, which did not really provide any succor, and I wondered if just archiving all the posts and starting over would help me to feel better.
Honestly, it probably would make me feel better. Even if just in the short term.
But probably only in the short term.
(This option is decidedly still on the table, I will say.)
Reading through sermons I wrote felt awkward, false.
Digitally thumbing through posts from my time in Kotido I came away wondering who that know-it-all was. (ouch).
Anyway, I’ve been doing some introspection this week.
It would seem I’m not done quite yet.
rocks these days
a rock hit my windshield on my commute home from work yesterday–
i was deep in thought about something far away, i don’t even remember now–
at the moment: i flinched.
this morning, driving back to work–
noticing the new, deep, wound in the glass:
i cried — big, hot, tears.
walking down the mountain to the office,
i stepped on a rock–
i flinched.
i picked up that rock–
the second offending rock in twelve hours:
and threw it in the snow.
i did not flinch.
Pool Ashes
There were ashes in the pool water this morning–
from a town [almost] burning down,
and a mountain [really] burning to the ground.
The mountain is smoldering–
no longer angry, but still at least a little mad,
I try not to stare as I adjust my goggles.
Failure.
The lady the next lane over is *serious* about her laps.
I see her checking my progress behind her,
making sure I never catch her–
I’m not trying.
Swimming slowly,
waking up,
trying to catch ash in my fingers
between
breaths.
Serious swimmer checks her time,
my goggles are too tight
and I’m getting a headache.
Dear LGBT+ Ally,
Thank you, ally, for your support during #pridemonth.
I hope you are as enthusiastic the other 11 months of the year
sans glitter
and rainbow clothing.
When the protest continues and we LGBT+ people claw our way into the same sorts of privilege you get every day without thought. (Do not @ me.*)
When you put your rainbow tutu back in the closet (how dare you) until next year–
and when your work towards LGBT+ visibility takes a back seat,
when you do not have to worry about being abused, spit on, or shunned for holding your partner’s hand in public.
When you are given a decent table at a restaurant,
rather than the crap one that we get as a same-sex couple.
When you do not have to explain that, yes, one bed is fine to the skeptical hotelier.
I hope you are as enthusiastic about your ally pride when planning your next vacation,
and you do not have to think about if a particular city or country will reject your presence.
And when you meet your partner and want to plan your wedding,
and everyone is just thrilled for you and would love to bake your cake/create your bouquet/perform your ceremony.
[Or, I don’t know, actually attend your wedding.]
I hope that you remember that we don’t have a lot of space that is just ours. And while we continually welcome you into our (hard fought for) bars**, pride parades, protests, drag shows**, and fabulous lives, a large swath of your hetero community does not provide us the same welcome.
Remeber that 5-10% of LGBT youth will attempt suicide.
And that percentage goes up for youth raised in religious homes.
Remember that our families reject us.
And so do people who we thought were our friends.
So:
carry your banner,
(and our flags)
yell your support,
wear rainbow colors.
Care all year.
and
remember
you are a guest here.
*I know, I do: POC, women, persons of different abilities also face challenges and discrimination.
**ABOUT your hetero bachelorette parties. Can you just not? Thanks.
wildflowers are strong/tender
in the winter: an afternoon ski.
in the summer: an afternoon hike.
in the winter: strong and tender snow,
soft when it falls–
soft to fall into.
strong enough to hold me up–
supportive enough to hold up an entire industry.
soft enough to avalanche.
melts with the slightest heat.
in the summer: strong and tender wildflowers,
soft petals–
softly blowing in the breeze.
strong enough to grow on a mountain–
to withstand alpine storms.
wilts when picked.
heavy light – stream of consciousness
as i have been staring blankly out a bank of floor to ceiling windows in front of me a squirrel keeps darting back and forth.
left to right.
right to left.
sitting on a table at the carbondale library my focus has been on mount sopris, looking solid and permanent, with intermittent glances to the darting squirrel who seems to be quite busy. looking back to sopris i wonder if i can see the snow melting from her peaks, or when the last rock slide was. maybe not so solid, after all.
the rivers are at a seasonal high these days, the roaring fork river earning her name with power and near deafening volume. the skies have been bluebird and perfect, the weather finally warm and delicious.
in a short fourteen days i will publicly and permanently link my life with the woman who makes me the happiest i have ever been, who makes me laugh and holds me when i cry–with a woman who makes me better every single day, and maybe the most voracious reader i know. (but absolutely the best dancer in the universe.)
roaring rivers and blue skies-
active saturdays and lazy tuesdays,
mountain peaks and ocean waves.
five star and lowbrow,
indoor/outdoor living.
aspen and carbondale-
text messages and facetime,
longdog and rainbow trout.
living room slow dances and ladies who lunch,
miller lite and mules.
sometimes when i am feeling low beautiful weather offends me, and i wonder what the point is. funnily enough, i take solace in towering beauties like mount sopris being shaped and changed by the elements around her–just like me. only bigger.
purifying heat
even at my happiest, there is always that little seed of sadness that is rooted down in the farthest reaches of my self. it is my assumption that this is universal–jungians would call it shadow, christians may say it is a symbol of “the fall”. no matter the name of this flora, it is always there, providing balance and counterpoint.
while driving through the utah/nevada/california desert the other day, the heat reached at least 104*F; the perfect time to turn off the air conditioner, roll down the window and let the dry desert heat soak down into the deepest parts of me permeating first through my skin, warming my muscles and bones, and bringing my core to a temperature that just seems to make sense: desert warm.
the desert is not where i am from, the midwestern united states looks very little like the semi-arid to arid vistas one finds around the world…and yet this foreign landscape calls to me. the warm breath of the spare breathing and living landscape beckons me nearer, to learn what secrets she holds.
it is my pleasure to listen to, and succumb to this purifying heat.
kiss the joy as it flies 