The Evening In Question ~ Early Evening Thoughts

Even after the day today ~ I will put a few words down about my "evening out." In the previous post I made mention of the fact that I had to be told that the invitation was actually a date. At my age? You've got to be kidding...but it was not just getting together, it actually was a date.

This required some thought and planning. What does one wear on a date...not having been on one for quite sometime. What is planned for the evening, or not planned?

Finally, common sense took hold and I decided that I would continue to be myself and allow the evening to unfold as it wanted to unfold.

We met and started talking ~ and we shared, laughed, talked until finally we realized what time it was. We had been sharing and talking for almost five hours! It certainly didn't seem like that at all. Fortunately, I didn't have to get up in the morning to work. We parted ways ~ however ~ only for a bit. We are getting together for another date next week ~ and I will certainly have more to share on that one.

However ~ it's wonderful to find someone who is willing to share themselves and be open about life and living. It's delightful to find someone who has been at some of the crossroads I've been at and who knows what deep decision making is all about.

What the evening gave me was a deep appreciation of this person, a better understanding of them ~ and belief that no matter what, we will have a friendship that survives.

And yes ~ the evening ended with a very warm embrace...very warm.

Lightning May Strike ~ Early Evening Thoughts

I have been invited out for the evening. As one of my friends put it when the invitation was made: "Uh, WD ~ that's a date." So, I am attempting to get ready for a ... um, uh ... date. Do they really call it that at my age? I will provide details later ~ possibly MUCH later. (So Bodhi, you might have to wait!!)

Was it out of the blue? Yes. Was it a delightful surprise? Yes. Am I prepared? No. Will I have a good time? Who knows ~ but knowing me, there will be some stories to go with it.

In the mean time, I am prepared for a delightful evening ~ with someone I know, and have known as an acquaintance for some time now.

What will we do? It's not my evening to plan. Will I let you know all the details? That depends.

---more tomorrow

And Yet, It Does Matter (end) ~ Early Morning Thoughts

Yesterday's post ended with the idea that the The symbol is NOT the thing symbolized. The map is NOT the territory. The word is NOT the thing. And this is very important as individuals. I am not a label, I am not a word, I am not a symbol. I am me.

Several years ago, I performed in a delightful theatrical adaptaion of Author Robert Fulghum's All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. In once section (borrowed from one of his other books) he imagined a party where people were exchanging business cards. Each time "he" was handed one, he would look at it, then ask ~ "But, what do you do?" The reactions in the script and from the audience was ~ to say the least ~ delightful. Finally, he had this to say about what he did when he got himself a new business card:

What counts is not what I do, but how I think about myself while I’m doing it. In truth, I have a business card now. Finally figured out what to put on it. One word. ‘Fulghum.’ That’s my occupation. And when I give it away, it leads to fine conversations.

What I do is to be the best Fulghum I can be. Which means being a son, father, husband, friend, singer, dancer, eater, breather, sleeper, runner, walker, artist, writer, painter, teacher, preacher, citizen, poet, counselor, neighbor, dreamer, wisher, laugher, traveler, pilgrim, and on and on. I and you—we are infinite, rich, large, contradictory, living, breathing miracles—free human beings, children of God in the everlasting universe. That’s what we do.

And there it is ~ no labels necessary. No trying to figure out "what" someone is or is not. And that's what I'm striving for ~ to be me...the best WD I can be.

OK TZ, it took me longer than 100 words (I delighted in the email challenge however!)

But I would like to close this post with a new (to me) quote:

Robert Fulghum in his book Maybe, Maybe Not:

I do not believe that the meaning of life is a puzzle to be solved. Life is. I am. Anything might happen. And I believe I may invest my life with meaning. The uncertainty is a blessing in disguise. If I were absolutely certain about all things, I would spend my life in anxious misery, fearful of losing my way. But since everything and anything are always possible, the miraculous is always nearby and wonders shall never, ever cease. I believe that human freedom may be stated in one term, which serves as a little brick propping open the door of existence: Maybe.

And Yet, It Does Matter (2) ~Early Morning Thoughts

Yesterday, I vented my "orientation fatigue" about people who feel it's absolutely essential to label everyone according to orientation ~ straight, gay, bi-sexual, non-sexual, waffle-sexual, buy-sexual and whatever. There were the "ladies" of "The View" trying to determine if Hugh Jackman was gay (suggesting because he had married a less than attractive (!?!) wife he was suspect), there were a number of blogs determining if Enrique Iglesias was gay because he dared perform at the largest gay nightclub in Europe (not for free I can assure you) and sang one of his signature songs to a patron on-stage. My feeling was (and still is) "WHAT DOES IT MATTER?"

A lot.

After I finished quelling the desire to yell and become a hermit, I realized what was really going on was something that I work hard NOT to do. All these instances were simply a desire for labels. Didn't matter if the label was/is accurate or not, the important thing was/is to get the label. And this is why it does matter ~ regardless of orientation.

ALERT:
THE NEXT SECTION
IS GOING TO BE VERY FRANK ~
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

I was trying to figure out why the labels of today are so important. In thinking about some of the labels over time and I was struck by how many of them were and are used to define the relationship with a supposed "enemy."

A time tested method of establishing such a relationship is by constantly referring to "the enemy" with some sort of derogatory label. Depending on your age and what you read or were taught (or believe), the labels you know of might be: Nips, Krauts, Slopes, Monkeys, Panheads, Gooks, Commies, or Ragheads. Soldiers aren't the only people who employ this technique. Hate groups label the enemies of the week as Nigger, Kikes, Jew Bastards, Half-Breed, Witch, etc.

And soldiers and bigots aren't the only ones to do this. The use of derogatory labels is a widespread technique for legitimizing the mistreatment of others. From grade school to Columbine to the NFL, our culture refers to those who are "not accepted as non-enemies" as Wimps, Freaks, Homos, Faggots, Pussies, Retards, Breeders, Fag Hags, Fag Stags, Sluts, Celebutard, Bitch, C--t, Redneck, etc. Someone, somewhere has, I'm sure, a more complete list if you care to look it up. I'll leave the list at that - and pardon me while I sanitize my keyboard.

And if you question my use of Columbine, here is the opening paragraphs of an article from The Denver Rocky Mountain News - July 25, 1999:

At Brooke Gibson's high school, nasty nicknames were the norm. "Nigger lover" was what they called her when she listened to rap. "Dyke" when she cut her blond hair short.

At the school her sister Layn attended, nicknames might poke fun at someone's shirt color, but never their skin color or sexual orientation.

It was the same school.

Columbine.

I realized that the label(s) make some people comfortable. Much as the old country fellow said: "Yur either fer us or agin us!" And there it is ~ labels define who is "fer" us or "agin" us. If Hugh Jackman marrying a less than attractive woman (according to "The View") makes him suspect as being gay or Enrique Inglasias performs at a gay night club makes him gay ~ then that helps define the "group" and where they belong. But then, according to S.I. Hayakawa's Language in Thought and Action:

The symbol is NOT the thing symbolized. The map is NOT the territory. The word is NOT the thing. Most societies systematically encourage ... the habitual confusion of symbols with things symbolized. For example, if a Japanese schoolhouse caught fire, it used to be obligatory in the days of emperor-worship to try to rescue the emperor's picture (there was one in every schoolhouse), even at the risk of one's life.... The symbols of piety, of civic virtue, or of patriotism are often prized above actual piety, civic virtue, or patriotism.

In one way or another, we are all like the student who cheats on his exams in order to make Phi Beta Kappa; it is so much more important to have the symbol than the things it stands for.

So, (he said with a lot of trepidation) if the word is not the thing ~ why does it carry so much weight and/or power to hurt or destroy?
---more tomorrow

And Yet, It Does Matter ~ Early Morning Thoughts

I read quite a few blogs ~ actually a LOT of blogs. It's always interesting to see what people are talking about, what concerns people on the internet ... as anyone who reads blogs can tell you ~ sometimes it's funny, sometimes its somewhat frightening and then there are the days where irritation lands similar to a cartoon anvil.

A number of the blogs were all "a-twitter" over a discussion the ladies (a term I might ...no, I won't go there) of "The View" had whether Hugh Jackman ~ known as Wolverine in the X-Men series ~ might be gay or not. Evidently no definite conclusions were drawn...at least by the time of the commercial break. (please note: Rosie was no longer on the show - and these were women who usually talk over each other doing news topics) No conclusions were reached other than that men who marry women not stunningly attractive, are considered possibly gay. (what a lovely thing to say about Hugh Jackman's wife!!)

Then - while in London Enrique Iglesias performed ~ neither by surprise nor free ~ at one of the Europe's largest gay nightclubs. He was doing his usual songs, and came to one of his signature pieces titled "Hero." At this point, he usually brings a woman up on stage and sings to her. In this case, he called up one of the bar's male patrons and sang the song. A large number of blogs went beyond "a-twitter" to almost hysteria...(including some that should know better) although any performer will tell you ~ you play to the audience you have. Ask Bette Midler.

To make the day complete probably should have involved a phone call from D&D, but instead I got a call from someone who might be a delightful replacement for them. I was regaled with a complete description of a movie he had just watched and had to listen to an extended description of the people in the movie and their possible orientation. (I have watched movies with this person before ~ this is nothing new)

I'm going to be politically incorrect here ~ but at this point I was, frankly, suffering from "orientation" fatigue. After the 5th time of trying to convince my movie reviewer and performer sexual preference psychic, I gave up and gently but firmly ended the conversation.

I thought about why all this seemed to be going on, and why it mattered at all. I literally wanted to go out in the middle of the complex and yell ~ "WHAT DOES IT MATTER?"

My point is talent is talent is talent. If it's good it needs NO labels. If it's good it will cross lines, orientations and even - Lord help us - party affiliations. I don't spend my time while watching a movie wondering what someone does in their off-time. If the performance is terrible I will 1) regret that I'm there and have been known to 2) count patterns on wall paper or buttons on what someone is wearing to keep my mind and/or body from falling asleep.

As a slight aside, my technical theater instructor in college told about having to design a really, really awful show. He painted grape clusters on the wallpaper of the set ~ only each cluster had a different number of grapes. His rational was that perhaps the audience might make it to intermission before they finished counting the grapes.

After I finished quelling the desire to yell and become a hermit, I realized what was really going on was something that I work hard NOT to do. All these instances were simply a desire for labels. Didn't matter if the label was/is accurate or not, the important thing was/is to get the label. And this is why it does matter ~ regardless of orientation.

As I've written about before, labels are very handy for boxes, shelves and sock drawers, but deadly when applied to people...blonds are dumb(er), geeks wear glasses, people who appear smart or work hard are nerds...to the racial, orientation and intelligence labels designed to either hurt or put people "back where they belong."
--more tomorrow

--the intro notes to Enrique Inglesias "Hero"
www.8notes.com/school/riffs/guitar/enrique_iglesias_hero.asp
--Twilight Zone picture unfortunately had no credits or year
--grape cluster picture
www.forchini.com/history.html
--fire picture
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/56877193/

Male Or Female ~ Only The Gender Genie Knows For Sure

Calling All Bloggers/Writers:

Is your writing masculine or feminine? Did you ever wonder? Does it really matter?

Here's a quick assessment tool that really is quite fun. I had a great chuckle at the results.

Find something you have written (it's best if it's over 500 words in length - supposedly it will be more accurate!) and click --->HERE<---. There is a box to paste what you've written - then ask for the analysis - and the first screen looks like this (click on the image to see larger picture):

Which is followed by a detailed analysis of the words used:


Makes for some interesting thinking....

Not The TV Fear Factor ~ Early Morning Thoughts

"Confronting our feelings and giving them appropriate expression always takes strength, not weakness.
It takes strength to acknowledge our anger, and sometimes more strength yet to curb the aggressive urges anger may bring and to channel them into nonviolent outlets. It takes strength to face our sadness and to grieve and to let our grief and our anger flow in tears when they need to. It takes strength to talk about our feelings and to reach out for help and comfort when we need it."
--Fred Rogers
The World According to Mr. Rogers.

I picked up that quote a couple of days ago.
I realized that I was sailing/floating in some uncharted waters (for me) and in order to reach the shore facing some things that have been eating at me was the only way to deal with them. Otherwise, I would continue to wander like the Israelites in the desert...and frankly, I don't have a generation or two to wander as I wonder.

One of the most difficult feelings I have to deal with is fear. Not the monster in the closet type fear, but the "what if" kind of fear. This is a really insidious kind of fear as it may or may not have basis in actual fact. It also is the fear that can keep me from dealing with unpleasant situations. I grew up in a "peace at any cost" family and I made choices that transferred that into my own life. If I'm not alert to it, I will make decisions that allow the path of least resistance on anyones part. Of course, that's occasionally not the best choice to make.

-F-IND A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE.
This is a somewhat fun party game (after a couple of drinks, of course!). Lay a plank down on the ground and ask people to walk across it blindfolded. Then - while the blindfolds are still on - raise the plank one or two inches at one end, and again ask them to walk the plank. You'll find that a lot of them won't do it - their perspective makes them fearful that they will fall. Even though it isn't high at all. It's the perspective that makes the difference.

I'm dealing with D&D (when am I NOT dealing with them!) and their "problems" with Toby and our friendship. I am going to have place myself in a position of creating some boundaries that I didn't want to have to draw. As I was looking at the situation earlier this evening, I was struck with the realization that I had the wrong perspective.

-E-NGAGE YOUR PROBLEM-SOLVING SKILLS.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes, reportedly told of a time when he climbed into a taxicab in Paris. Before he could utter a word, the driver turned to him and asked, "Where can I take you, Mr. Doyle?"

Doyle was flabbergasted. He asked the driver if he had ever seen him before.

"No, sir," the driver responded, "But this morning's paper had a story about you being on vacation in Marseilles. This is the taxi stand where people who return from Marseilles always come. Your skin color tells me you have been on vacation. The ink-spot on your right index finger suggests to me that you are a writer. Your clothing is very English, not French. Adding up all those pieces of information, I deduced that you are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

"This is amazing!" the writer exclaimed. "You are a real-life counter-part to my fictional creation, Sherlock Holmes."

"There was one other clue," the driver said.

"What was that?"

"Your name is on the front of your suitcase."

If only all clues were that obvious! However, many times they ARE that obvious if I will only take the time to look for them. In dealing with D&D and the current situation, I missed that clues that the problem was not TOBY (more on that tomorrow) but rather what THEY were expecting to occur in the situation and what they were expecting MY reaction to be (of course, in line with theirs!). Remember the false luggage tag of other peoples expectations?

There is also another tag people will try and put on your luggage. Those who are familiar with PAC will recognize "get back where you belong." This tag doesn't allow for changes on anyones part - and makes an attempt to place someone back into whatever category someone else has placed them.

-A-SK FOR HELP.
This can be difficult. However, along with the help someone else is able to give, or what we can find within ourselves - help may come from unexpected sources. The quote from Mr. Rogers is an example of that.

-R-ESIST THE TEMPTATION TO GIVE UP.
This is a temptation I can fall into very easily. It is almost second nature for me to worry about "what if" until it becomes "that's what's going to happen." Sometimes what I have worried about will happen (after all, the hypochondriac's tombstone DID read: "I told you I was sick."). But more often than not, it doesn't happen that way - unless I create a situation where that's the only outcome possible.

--What does all this have to do with D&D, Toby and other events in my life? To misquote Paul Harvey - "Tomorrow, the rest of the story."

--fear painting
www.philipstraub.com/where_fears_roam.htm

The Cowardly Closet ~ Late Night Thoughts

In all honesty, I have been following the hypocrisy on both sides of the Imus affair,and had actually started a fairly lengthy essay on my thoughts. I took a break and started reading blogs that I follow each day, when I read today's post at A Spider’s Web in Thornton Park.

I felt as if I had been hit in the stomach with a fist. My sadness gave way to anger and then back to sadness. Spiders blog has been an incredible light in my world. He's just gone through heart surgery, is facing treatment (possible surgery) for cancerous tumors - and now this. All caused by anonymous scum that don't have the guts or "cojones" to come out their own closet to say or do what abhorrent things.

Yes, I deliberately used the phrase "out of the closet." To me, these people that hide behind anonymity are closeted bigots that would probably be completely comfortable hiding behind white sheets and pointed hats - or wearing green shirts with a swastika on the sleeve.

I have re-printed his entire post. Be sure to read it completely - then my statements at the beginning will make sense.

From A Spider's Web In Thornton Park

I had written the first part of this blog on Tuesday Night…

I just got back from a wonderful dinner with some friends tonight and my phone rang. It had been ringing all night long at dinner - but I didn’t answer it because it kept coming up Private Number and I didn’t want to take a call from an unknown person at dinner. So it rang again when I got home. I answered it and no one spoke on the other end… just sounded like a car radio on the line so I hung up. A couple of minutes later it rang again… and this voice said “Brett”… Has the cancer killed you yet? I said “No” and they said, "Damn it God - let the cancer kill him - let the cancer kill him” and they hung up.

Now, I can only assume that this is an individual who read my blog and I KNOW it is not any of my readers - I can only assume that it is the same person who was harassing me last year over my letters to Patty Sheehan. Only my blog buddies and my closest friends know about my illness - so it must be someone who reads or has read my blog.

So, gentle phone caller - sorry to disappoint you, but you did not upset me. I am not a basket case nor am I bothered. Actually, I just feel sorry for you… that something is making you do things like this. Calling me, telling my employer about me, none of that will make me die. I am too strong, too mean and too stubborn to die just because you want me to. Nope, sorry - someone greater than both of us will make that decision.

By the way… have a nice day and just remember - karma is a real bitch…

Then on Wednesday, I get this comment on an old post…
-----------------------------------
Um, yeah, hi, this is Death. I’m still gunning for Spider. I think the cancer will get him.

Death said this on April 11th, 2007 at 4:40 pm (edit)
-----------------------------------
Well… it is now Friday and I hate to say it but the gentle caller has won. He found some things on the internet that were totally personal and done on my own time. Long story short, I was terminated from work today because of a personal ad he forwarded to the CEO of my company, the VP of my division, the Chairman of the Board - my VP found it to be “disgusting, immoral, vile and made him sick to his stomach” - so since I could not be terminated for something that was done on my own time from my own home, I was terminated for sending personal e-mails to several friends and my parents from work.

So gentle reader, you win. I surrender; you have what you have wanted since July… I hope you are happy, I hope you sleep well tonight, I hope that you can look at yourself in the mirror in the morning.

I have also decided to put an end to A Spider’s Web in Thornton Park. I have enough going on in my life without having to deal with without having to deal with the nut cases out there on the net. A lot of the information general reader found out had to come from my blog… and I am just tired of thinking 3 times before I post something something. The loss is just too great…

I love you all, I thank you for everything - especially the love you showed me the past month… I will be around - I am sure that Tony and Sorted will keep you posted on my ongoing treatment.

It’s been real, it’s been fun - and it HAS been real fun! I am just sorry it has to end this way at this time - this may be closing the barn door after the cow ran away… but given the past month, I need to focus elsewhere - and not be looking over my shoulder.

I am really going to miss you all - each and every one of you.

And gentle reader, now that you have gotten what you want, maybe you will have the guts to tell me who you are…

~ by Spider on April 13, 2007.

--------------------------
Fear has its use but cowardice has none.
---Mahatma Gandhi

Cowards can never be moral.
---Mahatma Gandhi

The coward threatens when he is safe.
---Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Only cowards insult dying majesty.
---Aesop

Dear Spider ~ You have no idea how much I will miss you!!!

"I'm so happy to be with you." ~ Early Morning Thoughts

I have written about and thought about and prayed about two people that I have never even met - but they have impacted my life and I am sure the lives of many others. They have done this by being completely open and honest about what it going on in their lives. I'm speaking of Yen and Jesse of Two Lucky People.

Their love has been such an inspiration - regardless of your orientation. As I have said, it stands as a monument to the truth AND the power of love.

Yen wrote in February that: "When hope to rekindle memories starts to wane, when your lover is changing, deteriorating, it becomes a challenge to keep loving. Every day is a lesson in patient loving. Every day you relearn how to love again."

And it's that relearning to love again I mentioned before. There are three stages of Love. The first is the infatuation, the second is the romance. The third and most difficult is love - because that is a conscious choice. You can't go to a mall and find a store for it, or get it from an email. Love is a choice. Sometimes the three stages blend, and we can move between them almost instantaneously, but in the end - it is the conscious love of two people that seems to hold everything together.

As I have said before, they epitomize to me the power of the wedding vows that people seem to take so casually today. These very old words, that seem so old fashioned carry tremendous power - and truth.

I take thee ... to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish ...

To my mind, that should cover a true love relationship. And, each part requires choice - better or worse, richer or poorer, sickness and health - to love and cherish. This is from Yen's latest post:

This cancer continues to pick at our lives like a vulture.

At home, Jesse is in constant discomfort. He eats like a bird, yet vomits bagfuls every night. Walking down a block is impossible. Whether in the day, or at night, he drifts in and out of sleep, in a cycle of painkillers.

I wonder if there isn’t a moment that he wakes up, and for a few seconds, forgets that he is dying.

For the survivor, forgetting is a difficult conundrum. In wanting to capture every moment, what one recalls in searing detail only renders the loss more acute. Though love and pain make poor partners, each is inextricably twined with the other. Love gives pain comfort. The latter legitimizes the former.

How do we forget one without the other?

I cried hard today in the town car on the way back from the hospital. It did not last long, probably for less than a minute. The tears stopped as suddenly as they had come. It happened soon after we got into the car, when Jesse took my hand and said to me: “I am so happy to be with you.”

Hopefully, you will read the entire post for all that was said, but the wonder of their love shines as a beacon during this very dark time. It was during all this time I realized just how much of an illustration of the vows these two humble people are.

I spent much of the afternoon and evening grieving for them and with them. It started with the title of the post: Love to pain: Don’t forget me...

Jesse summed it up in one sentence: "I'm so happy to be with you."

Once again, (as I looked at what would be a lover's side of the bed covered with magazines) I want that kind of love. A conscious choice - that no matter what we would carry on...until it was time for the last part of the vows - till death do us part.

But I also want what is right...and for now, it's better for me to be alone for the right reasons - than with someone for the wrong reasons. I'm not sure I've mentioned this before - but someone in England wrote me one time that they were not looking for someone to go out with - they were looking for someone to come home to.

As I looked back over the vows, I realized that there is a part of them that means: in the long run - shouldn't we do that with everyone we care about? What a change that would make...personally.

As usual when I'm upset or grieving, I turn to poets who can say things much better than I can manage.

Full Consciousness

You are carrying me, full consciousness, god that has desires,
all through the world.
Here, in the third sea,
I almost hear your voice: your voice, the wind,
filling entirely all movements;
eternal colors and eternal lights,
sea colors and sea lights.

Your voice of white fire
in the universe of water, the ship, the sky,
marking out the roads with delight,
engraving for me with a blazing light my firm orbit:
a black body
with the glowing diamond in its center.
--Juan Ramon Jimenez (1881-1958)

Oceans

I have a feeling that my boat
has struck, down there in the depths,
against a great thing.
And nothing
happens! Nothing...Silence...Waves...

--Nothing happens? Or has everything happened,
and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?
--Juan Ramon Jimenez (1881-1958)


--exchanging vows miniature by David Gregory
www.grime.net/dive/miniatures.html
--crashing waves 1 by Mark Henspeter
www.markhenspeter.com/index.php?showimage=209

A Love With So Much More ~ Early Morning Thoughts

This will be a somewhat different kind of post this morning.

I don't even remember when I first discovered Yen and Jesse over at Two Lucky People. I just know that from the beginning it was one of those moments that felt as if I had known them a long time. Jesse, as I've mentioned, suffers from a very aggressive form of melenoma - very agressive. Along the way, Yen has posted with honesty, love and a sense of humor.

Recently, Jesse underwent a clinical trial for treatment...a very toxic treatment and Jesse did the best with it he could. There were reasons they stopped the treatment when they did... and for several (to me nail-biting) days he was somewhat "out-of-it." Yen was with him and then one night - Jesse basically came back out of the wherever he had been. Jesse was to be taken home. Yen picked up the story today.

After more than a week of rest at home, Jesse has recovered almost completely from the IL-2 therapy.

He is his usual self, loving and already focused on getting stronger for the next round. Most of his activities are limited to a few minutes of walking outside every day. For the most part, we spend our hours taking naps, reading, and watching TV on the couch.

I’ve hesitated to write because there is really not much to tell. Every day is an exercise in patient living. I attend to his needs: blanket, pillow, water, a peck on the cheek, a hug.

Despite our best efforts, he’s still losing too much weight, hovering at a slender 140lbs for his 6′1in-tall frame. Our diet has whittled down to occasional meals, shared Chinese take-out, ramen, sushi sometimes. He has developed a liking for fresh watermelon, which I try to procure diligently.

But there has been a change ...one that any relationship undergoing stress and strain is bound to encounter. What makes the difference is how those involved handle the changes. Yen continued today:

I miss the days of our courtship, when we walked without consequence, without time. Even in the early months of Jesse’s diagnosis, our hope was still athletic, vigorous.
Times are different now.

When hope to rekindle memories starts to wane, when your lover is changing, deteriorating, it becomes a challenge to keep loving. Every day is a lesson in patient loving. Every day you relearn how to love again.

Regardless of your orientation, Yen's love even with questions stands as a strong memorial to the power of love - of what is deep within that creates a bond or bonds that can withstand almost anything that comes against it. It is not created from outside sources - the universe doesn't have a "shop" where one can buy it. This kind of bond comes from within the individual - from deep within the heart. And while Yen is fortunate in one respect that Jesse "is his usual self, loving and already focused on getting stronger for the next round," I have no doubt that even if he hadn't come back as that - Yen would have stood with him.

I do not care if someone is gay-straight, black-white, moon-man or whatever, this kind of love is so deep and powerful, I maintain that great portions of the universe bow in honor of its strength.

But it's the last part of his posting that meant so much to me ... let me repeat it: "it becomes a challenge to keep loving. Every day is a lesson in patient loving. Every day you relearn how to love again. " This is the portion that meant so much to me. After a failed marriage I read and heard that relationships are composed of three parts: 1) infatuation,
2) romance and then
3) love. The three parts are very separate from each other - and we may go back and forth amidst them - even moment by moment. But the one that is truly the "glue" is love. Which is a conscious choice. The first two can and often do rely totally on feelings - but the third - love, is a choice. And that's why Yen (and Jesse) stand out so much to me.

So, in my own small way, I stand with Yen and Jesse - and keep them in my thoughts, prayers or healing energy (or whatever you are calling it) so that I can feel a part of their life. And maybe, just maybe someday - a love such as theirs will come my way...but - even if it doesn't I will have had the privilege of knowing Two Lucky People (the wonderful name of their blog) and the wonder of their love toward each other .

I count myself lucky as well!!

A Welcome Bit Of News - Yen, Jesse ~

On February 11th and 12th I talked about Yen and Jesse (the person with the aggressive melanoma) from their blog Two Lucky People.
I'll talk more about this later tonight (in Early Morning Thoughts), but I wanted to share a few welcome comments that Yen posted on their blog. Be sure to read the entire post - and don't hesitate to leave a comment for them. I have no doubt they would/will be appreciated...

After more than a week of rest at home, Jesse has recovered almost completely from the IL-2 therapy.

He is his usual self, loving and already focused on getting stronger for the next round.

There is a "however" in the post:

Despite our best efforts, he’s still losing too much weight, hovering at a slender 140lbs for his 6′1in-tall frame. Our diet has whittled down to occasional meals, shared Chinese take-out, ramen, sushi sometimes. He has developed a liking for fresh watermelon, which I try to procure diligently.

That he's home and recovering is encouraging news - and my thoughts/prayers continue to be with them...

more thoughts tonight...

Self Fulfilling - Integrity? Prophecy? ~ Early Morning Thoughts

Acceptance is acknowledging our sexuality as a given.
Self-love is being thankful for the gift.
-- adapted from a quote by Ken Hanes

Trying to hang onto integrity in what seems to be a world that wants nothing to do with it - getting discouraged is almost a given.
If I'm going to live in integrity - I'm going to have to learn to love in integrity as well. Which opens up an enormous area of thought. No matter what the orientation, belief or concern - it seems there are those who oppose it, want to downgrade it - and want to denigrate those who are interested, believers and followers.

And in the process it become very difficult for people to know who they ARE, let alone what they believe.

Gay - straight, black - white, northern-southerner, democrat - republican, etc., etc. We seems to deal with incredible self-fulfilling stereotypes. Tell people long enough that they are inferior, and they will come to believe it. Most of us believe that we are in large part what society constantly brands us as; in response we come to exhibit the characteristics that justify the stigma.

For example: there are a large number of neurotic, unhappy, compulsively promiscuous homosexuals whom on might regard as "pathological." This pathology is however, the result of social pressures and the way they have internalized these, not of homosexuality itself.

If people are led to feel guilty about an essential part of their own identity, they will in all likelihood experience considerable psychological pressures......The insistence on the objective sinfulness of all homosexual relationships is precisely the type of moral thinking that psychologically destroys the ability of many homosexuals to enter into a permanent and fruitful relationship.

The only certain substantive conclusion that follows from the scientific data is the terrible cost in terms of human suffering and degradation that has followed on the mistaken moral judgments and prejudices of the past which are still invoked to support the prejudices of the present.
--adapted from a passage from:
John McNeill, The Church and the Homosexual

I don't think that the church is responsible by itself for "neurotic, unhappy, compulsively promiscuous homosexuals"...Personally, society at large, the media, politicians carry responsibility. And - I may get in some trouble for this, but I think those in the gay community carry responsibility as well.

And again when I look around, I realize that it's a problem for so many people of all different colors, beliefs, orientations, hopes, dreams and desire to live life. And so much of it seems to be at the door step of "self-fulfilling prophecy." If I take something to be the truth about myself, eventually that will become the truth. If I take something about someone else to be the absolute truth, eventually everything they do I will see through that lens. And the worst part about it, eventually they can come to believe it as true themselves.

To a small acceptance, add a larger acceptance of what we are continually told again, regardless of color, belief or orientation. As an example, my Father decided at around age 55, he was an old man. He began to externalize what he had decided internally. Over and over her would say things such as: "I can't do that, I'm a little old man (then he would chuckle). As time went on, the chuckle became less frequent, but the results did not. Finally by age 65 he had become what he said.

But, as I mentioned above, it also concerns how people regard us. A very troubling study by Robert Rosenthal and Lenore Jacobson, in 1968, gave all the children in an elementary class a test and told teachers that some of children were unusually clever (though they were actually average). They came back at the end of the school year and tested the same class again. Guess what? The children singled out had improved their scores far more than other children. (by the way, they didn't repeat the experiment because they were afraid the children would be ultimately harmed. Interestingly enough the teachers had NO idea they were treating different students in different ways.)

And by the way - a self-fulfilling prophecy generally involves acceptance of an untruth and making it true. This makes sure that the balance of truth hangs over what I am going to accept as truth. For example - at my current ... ahem...age, I am not going to be able to compete in an Olympic swimming event. However, I refuse to accept as true that I'm just "a little old man." It's taken awhile, and several failed relationship to get this through my head (thick skull?)...I am me, and I have worth. At the moment, his side of the bed may be covered with magazines and books, but there WILL come a day ...

It's easy to get
Truth never looks at me crookedly
but always straight on.
Sometimes in my small humanness
I try to turn my gaze.
Truth maybe too bright,
too garish,
without pity.
Sometimes truth seems to be not beautiful.
But more and more
with the passage of years
I find that I can turn my gaze
directly into the face of truth.
And more and more
I perceive with quaint surprise
that the truth I thought to be ugly
is more beautiful than the lie
that I feared was true.
-Charles Doss

More on this to come ~

The (insert group here) "Problem" ~ Early Morning Thoughts

Forgive the shift in tone from yesterdays warm romanticism (which I will return to) and previous posts about integrity, childlike enthusiasm and such. I had been out and about all day, and came home and opened my emails to see what people had sent, and to enjoy the communication I've had/I have with some of them.

There was one email from a name I didn't recognize. Normally if it's someone I don't know - or the header is wrong, I hit the delete quite quickly. This header referenced Amore and Poison to Medicine. Ah, a reader...no problem then. But, there was a problem. I guess I have somewhat "made it" in the blog world,
as I received my first "hate" mail letter today. Right at the start I was hit with that old chestnut "God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve." (My reaction to that statement EACH time I hear it: Of course, He did. If He hadn't, neither I nor those that espouse that kind of nonsensical rhetoric would be here, would we?)

And it went on from there ... most of it I had read/heard other places (including a variation of Fred Phelps battle cry "God Hates F*"), so I figured this was probably a person without an original thought in his head. A perfect follower of whoever had the loudest voice, and the most compelling sound bites ...until:

The end of the letter gave me pause. A great pause...

"Eventually, there will be no more problems with your kind. The change is coming and it will be for good."

Take a good look at that again, doesn't the phrase "no more problems with your kind" stand out? It almost hit me across the head when I read it. That phrase has fueled great controversy in the past -- the Nazi's and the "Jewish problem," the bigots of the American South and the "N* problem." and most recently for me - the church I WAS attending and the "(denomination) church problem."

The Chicago Sun-Times had an op-ed in January titled "beware the american fascists..." by Chris Hedges in their Sunday Controversy section, however, you can't find it there. You have to go to truthdig.com to read the original: "Christianists on the March."

Disclaimer: I do not necessarily like some of the tone and language used in the original article, but the points raised far outweigh the sometimes "rant" style of writing.

Dr. James Luther Adams, my ethics professor at Harvard Divinity School, told his students that when we were his age—he was then close to 80—we would all be fighting the “Christian fascists.”

The warning, given 25 years ago, came [when public religious leaders] began speaking about a new political religion that would direct its efforts toward taking control of all institutions, including mainstream denominations and the government.

Its stated goal was to use the United States to create a global Christian empire.

This call for fundamentalists and evangelicals to take political power was a radical and ominous mutation of traditional Christianity. It was hard, at the time, to take such fantastic rhetoric seriously, especially given the buffoonish quality of those who expounded it. But Adams warned us against the blindness caused by intellectual snobbery. The Nazis, he said, were not going to return with swastikas and brown shirts. Their ideological inheritors had found a mask for fascism in the pages of the Bible.

Dr. Adams was in Germany 1935-36 when the Nazi's were coming to full power. The corollaries between that time in Germany and today in the US are remarkable.

Adams saw in the Christian right, long before we did, disturbing similarities with the German Christian Church and the Nazi Party, similarities that he said would, in the event of prolonged social instability or a national crisis, see American fascists rise under the guise of religion to dismantle the open society.

He despaired of U.S. liberals, who, he said, as in Nazi Germany, mouthed silly platitudes about dialogue and inclusiveness that made them ineffectual and impotent. Liberals, he said, did not understand the power and allure of evil or the cold reality of how the world worked. The current hand-wringing by Democrats, with many asking how they can reach out to a movement whose leaders brand them “demonic” and “satanic,” would not have surprised Adams.

Like Bonhoeffer, he did not believe that those who would fight effectively in coming times of turmoil, a fight that for him was an integral part of the biblical message, would come from the church or the liberal, secular elite.

The...right has lured tens of millions of Americans, who rightly feel abandoned and betrayed by the political system, from the reality-based world to one of magic... This mythological worldview...creates a world where facts become interchangeable with opinions, where lies become true—the very essence of the totalitarian state.

It includes a dark license to kill, to obliterate all those who do not conform to this vision, from Muslims in the Middle East to those at home who refuse to submit to the movement. And it conveniently empowers a rapacious oligarchy whose god is maximum profit at the expense of citizens. We now live in a nation where the top 1 percent control more wealth than the bottom 90 percent combined, where we have legalized torture and can lock up citizens without trial.

Arthur Schlesinger, in “The Cycles of American History,” wrote that “the great religious ages were notable for their indifference to human rights in the contemporary sense—not only for their acquiescence in poverty, inequality and oppression, but for their enthusiastic justification of slavery, persecution, torture and genocide.”

George Santayana from Life of Reason, Reason in Common Sense (1905!!):
'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.'

All that said, I have a strong belief system - some of which aligns with what is being called the "religious right". Some aligns with what is being called the "godless left." So I have grounds and knowledge to be able to speak to most issues. As to the letter I received that caused tonights post, I did send an email back. I gently took issue with some of the statements he made, suggested that he really needed to search his heart and the Word to form his own opinions and seek/see the truth for himself. I even offered some places in scripture to look.

As far as the end of the letter to me, my tone changed - and I offered him my thoughts and some of the article I have quoted here - and the link to the entire article. However, based on the tone and some of the rhetoric of the original - he might be more turned off than helped. Which is going to another post...


Chris Hedges a graduate of Harvard Divinity School,
worked for The New York Times,
is the author of American Fascists: The Christian Right and the War on America

Encouraging Valentine's News ~ Update on Jesse

I have been praying/thinking about Jesse and Yen for some time now. As you have read in previous posts, they are two delightful people who truly live the love they profess. Where I first found them was their wonderful blog...Two Lucky People.

Jesse is suffering from a very aggressive form of melanoma and was undergoing a very toxic clinical trial. As I talked about just the other day that had to be stopped because Jesse's body was unable to handle it. He was supposed to go home the other day, but because parts of his body seemed to be failing - his release was delayed.

I was so thrilled and relieved to read this post today...while not completely out of the woods (as much as someone suffering as he is can be), he is getting there.

I can't be there - but I feel as if I share ... and that's a wonderful feeling!!!

The Truth Or Dare Challenge (2) ~ WD's Reply

My original post on the Truth or Dare challenge is here.

(As posted on his blog,) my truth to Jake was "What is a moment that gave you the most sensual pleasure when you look back on it. (doesn’t have to be sexual - sensual was a deliberate choice.) And why…."

A couple of days ago, when I told a couple of friends about Jake’s challenge they sat for a moment, then wanted to know what he wrote. I chuckled and told them he hadn’t written it yet, but I had to respond to the same question. Again, silence for a moment. Then I was asked how I could do that, as that would expose share a side of me that hadn’t been on the blog. I then talked about what I had been blogging about, and finally said that if I believed all that I have been struggling to write about, then why not? This is a side of me - albeit not a side that I beat people over the head with, but it is a side of me and my life. And besides the challenge had renewed some other areas of my inner being that had been slightly “dented” over the last several years - and it brought to mind a number of wonderful moments that reminded me even more of the “me” that can “be.” (Thank you Jake!!)

It’s a two-bar story that all took place on one night. I was living in the Montrose area of Houston (18 gay bars in a relatively small area) and was trying to get over an absolute terrible week. My self-respect/self-worth seemed to have been flushed down the proverbial (pervert-ial?) toilet, and wanted to get out and get away from it all.

I walked my way down to the first bar called Heaven. When it first opened it was a dancing twinkie bar. During the week, it was slightly more welcoming to those who usually didn’t dance with their shirts off and pants slipping slightly down their bubble butts. I sat at the bar and chatted with the bartender. There were at that moment few in the place. The bartender was a good one, and thought he knew how to work a customer. At one point, he took a candle from the back part of the bar, lit it and put it in front of me and said: “There, now I can see you better.” The place was well lit, so my heart really didn’t flutter (stupid me). As I was sharing an apartment with a bartender, I thought I recognized the “hook” to keep a customer there - drinking and tipping (especially tipping)(stupid me). I finished the drink, did the patron flirting with the bartender shtick and took my leave.

Literally one city block away was a dance bar called Pacific Street. A dance bar that was packed every night it was open. While I enjoy dancing, many times I go and find my niche (re: corner) and listen and enjoy the DJ’s work. It was only a short walk to get there. I was not disappointed, the music was great, and the crowd was fun. I sat and enjoyed the people, the music and felt a great sense of relaxation start to sweep over me. So much so (no I don’t think it was the vodka) that I decided I would get out and dance for a bit. There was no way I was going to take my shirt off but I could certainly enjoy being around those who had.

I was getting into the music and enjoying the feeling and energy surrounding me. I felt a hand on my waist and shoulder. I thought it was someone who needed me to move but then there was a voice in my ear. “I could see you better at my bar, could see you here on the dance floor, but don’t turn around.” My already beating rapidly heart skipped a beat. I recognized the voice and the phrase. I stood still and put my hand on the one on the shoulder and the other on the waist. I could feel the warmth from behind me, and feel a soft breath occasionally on the back of my neck.
I was being gently pulled toward the DJ booth side of the floor. It was an area where the lights didn’t quite reach,

“May I turn around now?”
“Not yet. Let’s just enjoy for now.” The music was wonderful, I was held by two hands and had a rather attractive man behind me. It was going to be interesting to see where this all would end.

“Take off your shirt.” My reply was as if I had just pushed the buzzer on Jeopardy. “I don’t dance with my shirt off.” I felt his breath by my ear “But I would enjoy it.” His hands left their posts and moved to the front and began to pull off my shirt. I didn’t bother protesting. “Much better . . . Now, I’m going to play - just enjoy.”

I have no idea what was being played during that time, who else was there - or if I had somehow wandered into a gay version of the Twilight Zone. I was moving to the rhythm of the man behind me. His fingers moved, explored and gently moved up and down. I know that my skin several times began to get goose bumps, but not from the cold. My breathing rate had certainly changed, and yet - I felt amazingly comfortable, quiet, horny and enveloped all at the same time. He had obviously unbuttoned his shirt as he leaned into my back and put his head on my shoulder. The fingers continued to explore, move and even “tweak.” But nothing went below the belt and when I would reach around I didn’t either (which would obviously limit my reaching around).

He began to speak very softly into my ear - just loud enough to be heard over the music, but soft enough to be very sensual.

If I hadn’t been so caught up in the sensuality of it all, I probably would have cried. Now remember, this is someone I had met a couple of hours before (gotta LOVE bartenders’ shift change) and who had no idea what I had been going through.

What was actually said is unimportant. What was delivered is what was important. The talk reached deep inside and reaffirmed me . . . my worth, my sensuality, my sexuality and my very being.

It was a wildly erotic and sensual time. He finally turned me around and we kissed. I was about ready to melt. He stepped back, gently kissed me again, put his finger in that delightful way some men have on my lips.

“I need to leave, but hopefully we will meet again.” Another deep kiss - and he left. I slowly put my shirt back on - put my life back on. I made my way home and as I was laying in bed . . . the wonder and the power of it all swept over and over me.

Heaven burned down and has been replaced by a much larger, more elegant dance club.
Pacific Street has since changed owners and names several times.