We celebrate fathers on this day in June. It has always struck me as
a day we dedicate to the masculine. A day when we remember what is
good and right in the Y chromosome. The image of my sex has oft been
hijacked by the demons of our nature. It is today when we remember the
better angels.
I am one of the blessed. Fatherhood is symbolized by a great man in
my life. He will be the first to tell you that he has been supported
and helped by a great woman. But he has taught me everything I know
about being that rare creature, man. He tells a tale of a dream. A god
and a goddess standing before him. He seeing what he had of the
harshness of our sex looks on one with love and the other with venom.
They stand before him smiling. Knowing that the connections are
indivisible. She leans against him. She does not need his support but
she is comforted by his strength. It allows her to reach new heights.
At our best, we are the sword and the shield. Providing a place for
the magick to happen. Instructing our sons to do the same. Unleashing
the force that is within us to propel ourselves higher. Offering a
hand to our brothers and sisters to aid them in the climb. Clearing a
path through the unknown. Standing on the side of creation and against
the destructive. The real battles are very rarely physical, but they
are real and they must be fought.
And so I say to all the fathers out there. Those that have taught
your sons and daughters the value of their fellow humans. Those that
taught them to look at the lifeforms we share this planet with and
respect them. Those that made it clear that no man has the right to
raise his hand to a woman. The men who woke before dawn and toiled
after sundown. The men who fought with everything they had for those
they loved. The men who wore the title "father" as a badge of honor and
held it as a sacred vow. I honor you this day. May your burden by
light. May your children know the love you feel for them.
And to the man I have the honor of calling father, I love you. You have taught me more than you know.
Monday, October 27, 2014
A walk down the road... (Originally published on June 15, 2008)
I've turned 32 by the turning of calendar pages. The light in my
life gathered some of my loved ones and we went to Bar Ferdinand. My
phone seemed to ring continuously that day. The actual date was amidst a
whirlwind of life. Amazing things are happening all around me. As
some of the news is not mine to share, I will just say that many
congratulations are in order. I received gifts and positive energy and
some other things unexpected.
My father is recovering quite well and has been given a clear bill of health. I will try to reach him via phone shortly to wish him well.
Several of my siblings are gathering in Seattle for an event that I will let others describe in their own way. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is hosting an event called "Out of the Darkness" (www.theovernight.org/). I can only say that the event has given me a renewed sense of hope. I feel as if a light, once extinguished, is burning again. I regret that I can only donate money. I do ask that anyone reading this visit the site and should you be in the position to, support one of the walkers. Donations to Elizabeth Marles (www.theovernight.org/index.cfm would be doubly useful.
On Wednesday, I return to a place where the magick is palpable to me. A place where part of myself was reborn and part withered. I can only say that this year I will be joined by another. A new member to the family of love that I have known for two years. I am looking forward to sharing the place with her. I am looking forward to the reminder of what is important that seems to be ever present there.
Amidst all of the comings and goings, the changes, the birthdays, I set forth on another journey. My eyes turned towards what our society considers a dividing line. I took it upon myself to become "landed". The rules have changed much since the time when citizenship was limited to those in possession of land. However, some of the antiquated notions still remain.
Property ownership has never been a personal goal. Ownership, by and large, is an illusion. However, come August (assuming everything goes as expected), I will make housing payments to a bank rather than a landlord. I have just signed a sales agreement for a condo at 21st and Christian. I will have a basement, a back patio, two bedrooms (one of which is quite small), a usable kitchen, condo fees, taxes, and insurance. My brain seems to be going in a million different directions. I'm already placing furniture and planning the garden. A place to grow food. A place to paint. A place to dry out a tent after a camping trip.
I will no longer have access to a pool and gym equipment will have to be purchased. My 150 yard commute will be extended to a mile or so. But, I feel as if I'm putting down roots. I wasn't planning it. I don't equate it with some milestone or some glorified concept of worth. I consider it a statement that I'm here and that I don't plan on leaving at a moment's notice. I am staking a claim on this city. I am binding myself to it. I think everyone but me considered it my home. I cannot equate the term "home" with any physical address or location. Home is a feeling or warmth that is found in people and memories. I will simply say that I have found a place to keep my stuff and that I plan on keeping my stuff there for a while.
There are so many things going through my head. So many thoughts that meld together. So many things I could say but would have to rewrite and rephrase countless times. For now, I will return to my apartment and plan for the coming week. Tomorrow, will be a day of business; a day of meetings and contracts; a day when the world gets caught up in itself and buys its own press. I will go into secure in the knowledge that by mid-week I will be on my way to reality; a place where people feel free to be themselves; where a handshake or a hug supersedes all the paperwork in the world.
I bid you all a good night and a good morning to follow.
My father is recovering quite well and has been given a clear bill of health. I will try to reach him via phone shortly to wish him well.
Several of my siblings are gathering in Seattle for an event that I will let others describe in their own way. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is hosting an event called "Out of the Darkness" (www.theovernight.org/). I can only say that the event has given me a renewed sense of hope. I feel as if a light, once extinguished, is burning again. I regret that I can only donate money. I do ask that anyone reading this visit the site and should you be in the position to, support one of the walkers. Donations to Elizabeth Marles (www.theovernight.org/index.cfm would be doubly useful.
On Wednesday, I return to a place where the magick is palpable to me. A place where part of myself was reborn and part withered. I can only say that this year I will be joined by another. A new member to the family of love that I have known for two years. I am looking forward to sharing the place with her. I am looking forward to the reminder of what is important that seems to be ever present there.
Amidst all of the comings and goings, the changes, the birthdays, I set forth on another journey. My eyes turned towards what our society considers a dividing line. I took it upon myself to become "landed". The rules have changed much since the time when citizenship was limited to those in possession of land. However, some of the antiquated notions still remain.
Property ownership has never been a personal goal. Ownership, by and large, is an illusion. However, come August (assuming everything goes as expected), I will make housing payments to a bank rather than a landlord. I have just signed a sales agreement for a condo at 21st and Christian. I will have a basement, a back patio, two bedrooms (one of which is quite small), a usable kitchen, condo fees, taxes, and insurance. My brain seems to be going in a million different directions. I'm already placing furniture and planning the garden. A place to grow food. A place to paint. A place to dry out a tent after a camping trip.
I will no longer have access to a pool and gym equipment will have to be purchased. My 150 yard commute will be extended to a mile or so. But, I feel as if I'm putting down roots. I wasn't planning it. I don't equate it with some milestone or some glorified concept of worth. I consider it a statement that I'm here and that I don't plan on leaving at a moment's notice. I am staking a claim on this city. I am binding myself to it. I think everyone but me considered it my home. I cannot equate the term "home" with any physical address or location. Home is a feeling or warmth that is found in people and memories. I will simply say that I have found a place to keep my stuff and that I plan on keeping my stuff there for a while.
There are so many things going through my head. So many thoughts that meld together. So many things I could say but would have to rewrite and rephrase countless times. For now, I will return to my apartment and plan for the coming week. Tomorrow, will be a day of business; a day of meetings and contracts; a day when the world gets caught up in itself and buys its own press. I will go into secure in the knowledge that by mid-week I will be on my way to reality; a place where people feel free to be themselves; where a handshake or a hug supersedes all the paperwork in the world.
I bid you all a good night and a good morning to follow.
Back from the playa.... (Originally published on September 3, 2008)
I'm torn. August has been an amazing month. There is so much going on. I don't know what to write about first.
The condo fell through. I guess that would be upsetting if it hadn't turned out so well. I moved in with Liz in Ambler. The last Musick has left Philadelphia. The city did make one last attempt to kill one of us, but it looks like it will have to wait.
August redefined synchronicity for me. Atheists can find it difficult to talk about fate. But whether through random chance or human intervention, sometimes everything just falls into place. And so it was that a series of fortunate events led me to a place where synchronicity is almost common enough to be cliche: Black Rock City.
I camped with an amazing group of people. A group I barely knew that took me in and showed me the ropes. They have gone to the playa year after year and set up an outpost of civilization in a place where no life was meant to be. From the food, to the sound system, to the showers, to the bar, to the structures and organization, they allowed me to leave my concerns far behind. They are really an amazing group of people and I hope they know that. I just wanted to thank The Philadelphia Experiment and wish them all joy. I love you guys.
I could give a thousand examples of how the right set of circumstances led to magick. From the Root Society music leading me out of a dust storm to choosing the right time to go on walk-about to pass by Atomikamp when they were opening up the fallout shelter, to the amazing young woman that let me borrow a hand cart, to the amazing gentleman who needed to use it after me. I said many times during the week I was out there that "The playa provides.". Time and time again, it proved me right.
However, even in this place where the laws of physics and statistics seemed somehow skewed, I can not say I felt as one with the playa. That is until the man fell. There was something primal in that release of energy. There are traditions now and plans and performance pieces, but at the root of it, the destruction has a power all its own. I walked around the debris several times and then just kept walking. I walked wherever the mood struck me and eventually returned to my beloved PEXies. I revelled with them and found warmth as the night grew cold. We danced into the morning and gathered as the sun rose over the mountains that give the area its name. It was then, looking around at the smiles and joy that I realized that this place was a place of healing, of contact, of love. I praised the sun and the land and the joy that morning.
I was on breakfast crew a few hours later and stayed on the playa for another 30 or so hours, but right then I saw in the eyes of other a reflected light I sometimes forget is there. I hope that I was able to do the same for them.
The condo fell through. I guess that would be upsetting if it hadn't turned out so well. I moved in with Liz in Ambler. The last Musick has left Philadelphia. The city did make one last attempt to kill one of us, but it looks like it will have to wait.
August redefined synchronicity for me. Atheists can find it difficult to talk about fate. But whether through random chance or human intervention, sometimes everything just falls into place. And so it was that a series of fortunate events led me to a place where synchronicity is almost common enough to be cliche: Black Rock City.
I camped with an amazing group of people. A group I barely knew that took me in and showed me the ropes. They have gone to the playa year after year and set up an outpost of civilization in a place where no life was meant to be. From the food, to the sound system, to the showers, to the bar, to the structures and organization, they allowed me to leave my concerns far behind. They are really an amazing group of people and I hope they know that. I just wanted to thank The Philadelphia Experiment and wish them all joy. I love you guys.
I could give a thousand examples of how the right set of circumstances led to magick. From the Root Society music leading me out of a dust storm to choosing the right time to go on walk-about to pass by Atomikamp when they were opening up the fallout shelter, to the amazing young woman that let me borrow a hand cart, to the amazing gentleman who needed to use it after me. I said many times during the week I was out there that "The playa provides.". Time and time again, it proved me right.
However, even in this place where the laws of physics and statistics seemed somehow skewed, I can not say I felt as one with the playa. That is until the man fell. There was something primal in that release of energy. There are traditions now and plans and performance pieces, but at the root of it, the destruction has a power all its own. I walked around the debris several times and then just kept walking. I walked wherever the mood struck me and eventually returned to my beloved PEXies. I revelled with them and found warmth as the night grew cold. We danced into the morning and gathered as the sun rose over the mountains that give the area its name. It was then, looking around at the smiles and joy that I realized that this place was a place of healing, of contact, of love. I praised the sun and the land and the joy that morning.
I was on breakfast crew a few hours later and stayed on the playa for another 30 or so hours, but right then I saw in the eyes of other a reflected light I sometimes forget is there. I hope that I was able to do the same for them.
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