Thankful Project

Writing Project, Part One

I make no commitments for how long I will carry out this next endeavor, but I was thinking about funerals, and how, regardless who the person was on earth, they are endorsed with wondrous accolades when they die. I always think that it is somewhat a wasted venture, used only to make the living feel better. I am going to change this. I am thinking about some of my friends and the marks they have left on my life. I want to thank them now, while they are alive. Obviously, this will be an ongoing process, because I have a plethora of friends and acquaintances. There is no particular order for those I choose. I am just thinking about them right now, so why wait?

Amy Snyder, once, while I was on a phone call, I described you as an ex-girlfriend. You overheard this. When I got off the phone you asked me why I chose the word "ex". I stumbled, mumbled, and then said, "Well, what other word could I use?" You said, "You could say, 'former girlfriend'." So, I thank you, Amy, for teaching me that a shift in a relationship does not forgo kindness in our speech or actions; for shining a piece of God that is more real than mumble jumble from a pulpit. I have never forgotten this beautiful lesson.

Charlie Thiel, 21 years ago when I wanted to end my life, dealing with the painful reality of previous pain, you said three things to me: 1. I love you. 2. God loves you. 3. The pain you feel now, God will not only heal you, but God will use your pain to help others heal.
Some people believe that prophets are archaic. Some people believe that God is dead or does not exist. Well, to those people, I say, I have seen prophets, and I would not be alive if God did not speak through you.

Brittany Taylor, you are that voice that has accepted my crazy, as you accept your own. You scare me. You normalize my displacement on this planet, and take me down a few pegs when necessary. I get you, as you get me. Thank you for making me feel slightly less alone. So, I send this toast to you for being beautifully (un)normal.

Connor Wellington, when you shared your pain with me I thought that I was there to help you. Little did I know that you were there to help me, too. It's been a while that I shared a beautiful moment of crying and healing with another person. Be encouraged, the love you seek will find you because you are an amazing human being. Thank you for reminding me that we help others when we allow them to help us.

Alan Wiesenfeld, during graduate school, you said to me, "Your writing is atrocious." However, your words did not stop there. You followed this stinging sentiment with, "I will help you become a good writer." Thank you. You taught me that criticizing the world is easy, but the true movers and shakers are the ones who see what's wrong and do their part in fixing it.

I Miss you, Chris Miller...

Thoughts about my friend, Chris Miller

As the anniversary of the death of my dear friend, Chris Miller, approaches tomorrow, I want to share some reflections that I am having.

About two and a half years ago, I did a photo shoot of Chris. I was trying to capture his genuine laugh, so I told him a joke. Here is the joke:

A guy walks into a bar and orders a beer. He takes a sip, and then suddenly the most incredible piano music he's ever heard starts up. He looks around, and he sees this tiny man, about a foot in height, playing the piano.

Puzzled, the guy asks the bartender, "Where in hell did you get that little guy?"

The bartender answers, "Well, I was taking the trash out into the alley and saw this old dirty lamp. I rubbed the dirt off it, and this genie popped out and said 'I'll grant you one wish, but one wish only!’ So now I have this little man."

"Wow!" says the guy, "is that lamp still out there?"

"I guess so", says the bartender, "go out and take a look."

The guy rushes out the back door and sure enough, there's this dirty old lamp. He picks it up and rubs it. Out pops the genie and says, "I'll grant you one wish, but one wish only!"

Beside himself with excitement, the guy yells, "I want a thousand bucks!”

There’s a flash, a bang, and a bam! And out of nowhere, there are 1,000 ducks.

Pissed off, the man walks back into the bar, grabs the bartender, and says: “What do you think you’re pulling? I asked for a thousand bucks!”

"No kidding", says the barman, "did you really think I asked him for a 12-inch pianist?"

 

The Perpetrator and the Dad

This story is very powerful. Having been someone who was shaped by a molestation from an older neighborhood boy, I think my father or brother, Roy, would have done the same thing to the perpetrator. Still, the final quote that this article includes from the father, I find unintentionally hilarious. To clear the record, Mr. Father: the molester didn't die, because he didn't die; it had nothing to do with your love for God. You beat him badly enough for death to take over. We are all so stupid and comical and brilliant and ugly and beautiful and quite silly in our understanding of ourselves and the world.
http://www.news-journalonline.com/article/20140718/NEWS/140719489/1040?p=1&tc=pg 

Just Like a Girl

I think about those insidious statements and institutions and countries and ideas that have limited girls and women. I think about my own daughter, and how both her mother, Tessin Bozard, and I refuse to place those limitations on her.

I think about the religious environment that I was a part of for many years, and how girls and women were/are told to act; how too often many of these girls grow up to be women who define their success or status based on "what their husbands do".

I think about the world wide abuse that girls and women take. Daily. And sometimes hourly. Because they are girls. Because they are women.

I think about countries where men perform gender mutilation on girls and women to "control" their sex drives, and thus, control them.

I think about growing up in a home where my father would say to my sister, Michele, "If you get pregnant, I will throw you out of this house, and you'll have to find some place to live!" And how my father would turn to us boys and say, "If you get somebody pregnant...then you will have to find a job to continue living here."

I think about how I am part of the problem if I don't speak up.

My daughter will never be raised to believe that she is less than a man; if my daughter is heterosexual, and chooses to marry a man, she will not be raised to think, not for one minute, that any man is the "head" of her or her family.

I think about my voice, and how I can help empower girls to take back the insult and turn it into their weapon; how I can confront boys to question their words, their thoughts, their limited viewpoints.

I think about all of this, and so I share it with you, my friends. Watch it! Pass it on. It brings me to tears.


http://youtu.be/XjJQBjWYDTs

Unfair to God

 Unfair to God

I have been unfair to God. I’ve allowed
others, those who share a relationship with God,
to define and limit my relationship with God.
This is unfair to God. For, have I not

had friends, who have friends
who are no friends of mine? Have there
not been lovers, who have had lovers,
whether prior to or thereafter me,
who share not even a shadow of me? Do I hold it against
these friends for those friends; these lovers
for those lovers? No.
I do not.
In truth, I do not even consider it,
considerably. Perhaps I should.
My dance with my friends and lovers
is privately personal.

Yet, when it comes to God, I partially discount this perspective.
Instead, I give weighted credence to noisemakers of judgment,
the (self-proclaimed) pious ones who crow and boast
of their commitment to the One of Infinite Names.
Why do I choose to include any of their sounds? They are clanging,
and not a part of my equation. They neither add nor multiply
abundance to my friendship, my love affair, with God.

For this I am sorry.
For this I have been unfair to God.

7/10/2014