19 August

Celebration of self!









It was asked on another forum if we get angry with God because we are gay.

I get angry with God when I have to walk long distances and the weather stinks. And much worse, when I think about the "web of life," the whole literal "kill to survive" thing we're stuck with.

However, being gay, not something I'm angry about. Angry with those who work against (or, yes, even disagree with) our efforts to have our civil rights recognized. Angry with those who speak against us from the pulpit. But not God, because being gay has given me many things I may not have had otherwise.

If I'm openly emotional or express my sensitivity among others, and they know I'm gay, it's not shocking to people. It's more "expected" that a gay person would express the full range of emotion, no matter which gender that emotion is socially attached to.

I am grateful to have met people I may not have met otherwise. I am grateful for being able to appreciate and celebrate and enjoy the beauty of the male body, the male psyche, the love of a man.

A lot of women, mostly not gay, are able to open up to me that may not be comfortable for them if *I* were not gay, because there is no sexual tension. Thus, I have powerful connections to many women.

People are less shocked when I tell them I have an appointment with my hairdresser. ;-)

(Though I would like to see a barber now and then, I don't want to hurt my hairdresser's feelings) (There's a really cute barber near where I work)

(I mean REALLY cute.) (AND really friendly)

(Wow. I'm distracted now)

Anyway, being gay opens things up sometimes. And being "outside the majority" gives me insight about myself, about who I am, and reasons to really experiment with my creativity. The expectations on me are less restrictive. I don't happen to like sports, hunting, fishing, working on cars, fixing doorknobs, or wearing a %*&$ing tie. And that's OKAY.

Am I saying a man or woman who isn't gay can't experience similar things? Of course not. But the social pressure is greater on them, I think.

And even if I'm full of crap, so what? Woman, man, I tell y'all, I'm very very happy with who I am, and hope that all people, gay or not, can do the same (you can!)

(Am I always happy? Of course not! I'm really hard on myself in other areas, the "curses" of being gay in the USA in 2008...the emphasis on the "beautiful youth," a certain kind of physicality, the social pressure to choose something and stick to it with a determined work ethic, as if any of these things matter one bit, which they don't, but I still need to overcome my self-judgment and LIVE. Um, NOW.)









Song of Myself



1
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

Read the whole poem, preferably out loud, here.








03 August

Worship or communion?

I'm sure there is a way to do both, but here's where I'm at...

I go to an Episcopalian church. Hence, it's focus is on the Eucharist.

Also known as, "Communion."

For me, if the bread and wine represent (embody spiritually, mystically) the body and blood of Christ (God), then God is communing - sharing - divine energy and love with us.

With us.

And among us! We gather as a group and stand around the altar to receive that body and blood.

Before that, we give wishes of peace to our sisters and brothers.

And we share our resources so that the church as a body may function in the world.

I don't understand the concept of worship, if God is within me and around me, if I am communing with God. I do not kneel at church. The physical pain and discomfort of doing that distracts me. I'm not there to be humble, or worse, to be in shame before God. I am willingly accepting my role in communion. Upliftment is why I'm there.

Lots of folks are complaining that church is too feel-good these days. Not enough hellfire for their taste.

But if God is love, and God is communing with us and among us, and we are sharing God together, how can we feel anything but good?
27 July

Inner peace and food

I was asked one time to identify my greatest desire.  That took less than a minute: inner peace. What would that be like?  Meditating on it, a perfect, blissful sleep came to mind and heart.

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Gandhi said:

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If I want world peace, I won't get it with heated debate about the issues.  By cultivating inner peace, my dealings with others will come from that place, and will only be an encouragement to others to commit to that same cultivation within themselves.  Then, organically, inner peace will begin to spread.

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Obviously, this is not a unique teaching coming from me; I have heard, and experienced it, before.  Running into roadblocks while interacting with others, I have allowed myself to forget and to neglect.  Inner peace must be attended to - it is an act of intention.  That's the new knowledge for me.  In fact, in writing this blog, five different times I hit some key combination that deleted my writing and I had to start over.  I had to deal with frustration and rage.  I had to zoom out of the emotion and observe what I was doing.  When focusing on the good, the opportunity to bring it into practice will often come up, right in your face, and sometimes quite loudly.  I left the computer at one point, saw Meggy, and shared peace with her by stroking her head.

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And now this blog is better than it could have been on its first draft.  I'm learning, each and every second.  Join me?

How to cultivate then?  A couple of articles on Beliefnet offer some hints.  They are both excellent.  I encourage you to read them both; they are easy and fast reading.  I have tried the potato chip meditation (second article) but with a walnut (I cannot stand raisins, which was the example I was being taught via a CD I had bought).  I see the benefit in choosing something like a potato chip, however, and plan to try it.  As I have big issues with overeating/compulsive eating, focusing on the act of eating, and making the practice of it a mindful one makes a lot of sense to me.  A lot of my inner conflict seems to somehow be associated with my consumption of food.

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http://www.beliefnet.com/gallery/mindfuleating.html

THE EIGHTFOLD PATH TO MINDFUL EATING

How ancient Buddhist principles can help us bring a spirit of meditation into every meal

By Carmen Yuen

Too many of us are mindless eaters, to the point that we barely notice what we shove into our mouths. It's nigh time to put down the Blackberry, turn off the TV, and eat--just eat. Taking inspiration from the Buddha's Noble Eightfold Path, these eight practical steps help us move from "scarfing on the go" to "dining in the now."

1. Food Can Be Our Friend

We find the devil in the donut; we constantly worry over what we do (or do not) eat. Must every plate be served with a side dish of guilt? The Buddha taught that there can be an end to suffering--and this applies to our attitude towards food. We can be like we were as children, savoring every bite of our favorite snack. Eating can once again be a source of immense joy.

2. Reflect on the Origins of Your Food

When everything at the supermarket is wrapped in cellophane, it's easy to forget our connectedness to the food we buy. Our choices have a direct effect on the way food is grown. Ask yourself: are the methods sustainable? Are the animals treated humanely? Supporting mindful products--such as free-range eggs and organic produce--benefits both our environment and our health.

3. Avoid Stuffing the Senses

We're careful to avoid the candy aisle. But what about the magazines and TV commercials that scream "Lose ten pounds in a week!" and "Easy methods to trim those thighs!"? Mindful consumption extends to the words and images that we let into our minds. Recognize that sensory "junk" will agitate and mislead.

4. Take the Middle Path of Moderation

The young Buddha practiced asceticism--and not surprisingly, subsisting on a grain of rice a day led only to disillusionment (and an angry stomach). An offering of nourishing milk-rice helped him realize that inflexibility and dogmatism were at the roots of suffering. Let go of the stress surrounding "forbidden foods" and step onto the Middle Path of moderation.

5. Cook in the Now

Cutting an onion and washing the dishes are not necessarily forms of torture. The simple, everyday task of preparing a meal can be an opportunity for meditation. Choose seasonal produce that is bursting with flavor and packed with nutrients. Be present in every action: savor the smell of a cut apple, the texture of chopped walnuts. You may find a great deal of enjoyment in a once-dreaded process.

6. Share a Meal with Your Sangha

Traditionally, Buddhist monks worked side-by-side in the garden and ate together in a large dining hall. Sharing a meal is one of the simplest and most effective ways to strength our connections with loved ones and with our food. Try out a recipe with friends; surprise someone with a homebaked treat. The experience can be more satisfying than dining at the priciest restaurant in town.

7. Pause and Give Thanks

Your mouth is watering and your fork is aloft... but before you dig in, take a few seconds to breathe. Savor the delicious aroma; reflect on the hard work that has gone into the food, and how grateful you are to receive it. The simple act of pausing reminds us to be mindful of the portions we put on our plate.

8. Chew, Swallow, Enjoy!

There is a Zen saying: "When you eat, just eat." The act of eating food can enormously pleasurable, especially when we slow down. Chew, swallow, look around, and chew some more. With these simple techniques, you will discover that the path of mindful eating can lead to a peaceful mind.

Carmen Yuen is the author of "The Cosmos in a Carrot: A Zen Guide to Eating Well" (Parallax Press). To learn more about her and her work, visit www.carmenyuen.com.


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http://www.beliefnet.com/story/17/story_1742_1.html

A POTATO CHIP MEDITATION

Here's the challenge: to taste--really, fully, mindfully taste--what you're eating.

By Edward Espe Brown

http://www.beliefnet.com/story/17/story_1742_1.html

Reprinted with permission from "Tomato Blessings and Radish Teachings:
Recipes & Reflections" by Edward Espe Brown (Riverhead Books).

Years ago at a meditation retreat, we had an eating meditation.
Raisins were passed out. We were encouraged to help ourselves to a
small handful, "But don't eat them yet!" I sighed. I am not thrilled
with this kind of exercise. I prefer to have these experiences on my
own, instead of having them spoon-fed to me.

We were instructed to look at the raisins, to observe their
appearance, to note their color and texture--"But don't eat them yet!"
I supposed it could be worse, like "Ready now, one, two, three, open
your heart to the raisins." Next we were invited to smell the raisins,
and finally, after a suitable interval allowing for the aromas to
register, we were permitted to put the raisins in our mouths, "But
don't chew them yet!"

By now I was feeling annoyed and increasingly aware of an urge to
smash something. "Leave me alone," I complained (loudly to myself.).
"Let me eat, for goodness' sake." To have your act of eating abruptly
arrested is upsetting and disturbing. Get something tasty in your
mouth, and your teeth want to close on it. But WAIT! We were then
instructed to simply feel the raisins in our mouth, their texture,
their presence. We were obliged to restrain saliva flow and the
impulse to chew.

At last, we were permitted to complete the act of eating. The raisins
could be chewed. More juices flowed. The sweet and the sticky were
liberated from their packets--"But don't swallow yet!"

"Be aware of your swallowing. See if you can make your swallowing
conscious." Some people, I guess, just have a knack for knowing how to
take all the fun out of things. This noting and observing, attending
and awakening, certainly doesn't leave much opportunity for joyful
abandon, but I'll always remember those raisins.

Indeed, I thought of them when I taught a workshop on Zen and
psychoanalysis with Andre Patsalides, a Lacanian psychoanalyst. We
called the event "Eating Orders and Disorders." Andre explained that
in cultures where eating rituals were widespread, people experienced
few eating disorders. Conversely, we see that ours is a culture with
few eating rituals and numerous disorders. Many families, perhaps 25%
to 30%, almost never eat together, according to many reports. The
refrigerator, freezer, and cupboard are full of each family member's
favorites, which can be microwaved when each one wishes, maybe between
TV shows.

It's the American dream, the American way: freedom, disconnection,
food as product, food as fuel, never having to interact. The basic
rule, of course, is to pay very little attention to the stuff--food,
sitcom, people, or game show--coming in and then to be just a bit
baffled as to why you feel so undernourished in the midst of all this
plenitude.

I wanted to lead our workshop in an eating meditation, but hey, I
thought, let's get real. Let's skip the raisins and meditate on eating
just one potato chip. Then I thought we could go to oranges, my
concession to wholesome, and conclude with Hydrox cookies. I picked
Hydrox because I had heard they were the "kosher Oreos" (no pig fat, I
guess).

Since I didn't want to parcel out the instructions as they had been
given to me, I laid out the whole deal to start: Pay attention. Allow
your attention to come to the potato chip and be as fully conscious as
you can of the whole process of eating just one potato chip. Just one!
So you had better pay attention.

When I announced our potato-chip-eating meditation, I was greeted with
various gripes, taunts, and complaints: "I can't eat just one."
"That's ridiculous." "You're going to leave us hanging with
unsatisfied desire. How could you?" Nonetheless, I remained steadfast
in my instructions and passed around a bowl of potato chips, urging
each participant to take just one. When everyone was ready, we
commenced. "Instead of words," Rilke says in one of his sonnets,
"discoveries flow out astonished to be free." And so it was.

First the room was loud with crunching, then quiet with savoring and
swallowing. When all was fed and done, I invited comments. Many people
had been startled by their experience: "I thought I would have trouble
eating just one, but it really wasn't very tasty." "There's nothing to
it." "There's an instant of salt and grease, and then some tasteless
pulpy stuff in your mouth." "I can see why you might have trouble
eating just one, because you take another and another to try to find
some satisfaction where there is no real satisfaction to be found."
"If I was busy watching TV, I would probably think they were great,
but when I actually experience what's in my mouth, it's kind of
distasteful."

That one potato chip even surprised me, the experienced meditator,
with its tastelessness. Now I walk past the walls of chips in the
supermarket rather easily without awakening insidious longings and the
resultant thought that I really ought to "deny" myself. I don't feel
deprived. There's nothing there worth having. And this is not just
book knowledge. I know it.

The oranges were fabulous, exquisite, satisfying. The reports were:
"Juicy ... refreshing ... sweet ... succulent ... rapturous." About
half the participants refused to finish the Hydrox cookie. One bite
and newly awakened mouths simply bid the hands to set aside what
remained: "This we know to be something we do not need, desire, want,
wish for. Thanks anyway."

The ritual of eating attentively in silence put everything in order.

How to Eat Just One Potato Chip

Bets have been made. Challenges have been laid. You've been told you
can't do it. You've never dared to try, but here's the secret. Taste.
Taste what you put in your mouth. Experience it!

The potato chip is already manufactured and is always "ready for you"
(waiting perhaps innumerable eons for this opportunity), so
concentrate on preparing the other ingredients. To strengthen and
focus the concentration, eliminate all the most obvious distractions:
TV, radio, stereo, reading material (especially People magazine and
the daily newspaper), talking, shopping, driving. Concentration is to
be applied to the potato chip and only to the potato chip. No dip
allowed. You are encouraged to be seated and not to have a drink in
the other hand.

Attention is to be attuned to what is actually present moment after
moment. "Attuned" because attention is often turned toward what is
wished for or feared, and frequently glosses over the actual
experience. Refine or focus the attention by pointing out what is to
be attended to: how the chip feels in the hand, how the chip looks in
the hand, the smell of the chip, the intention to place said object in
the mouth, how the chip feels in the mouth, how the chip tastes
(moment after moment!), how the chewing sounds, and, carefully now,
the sensation of swallowing.

Mindfulness is to be "whipped up" or aroused, as it tends to save
itself for things more important than chips. Remind yourself that
eating a potato chip with mindfulness is vitally important. To be
mindful means that the experiences attended to actually make an
impression.

One way to arouse mindfulness is to practice making notes about what
you are going to tell your grandchildren about this particular potato
chip: "beige ... greasy between the fingers ... exquisite curve ...
cute ruffles ... urge (like a fire flaming to life) to place in mouth
... feel with tongue ... powerful crunch..." and so forth. But please,
don't take my word for it. Find your own words.

Got your ingredients together? Seated? Undistracted? Focused? When you
are ready, you may pick up and eat (better yet, savor) that one potato
chip. Get everything you can out of that chip, because it's the only
chip in the entire universe.

Edward Espe Brown is the author of the best-seller 'Tassajara Bread Book' and past president of the San Francisco Zen Center. He helped found the acclaimed Greens restaurant in San Francisco, with chef Deborah Madison.


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06 May

Sex, Aging, and Mortality

This is my post from my blog on my MySpace page, which I wrote this morning. I'm copying it here because the issue of age seems like such a common struggle, at least for gay men.

There is a DVD series available of the first season (only season?) of the HBO drama "Tell Me You Love Me." I watched these ten episodes over the course of the past week, finishing them on Sunday. The season is a complete storyline, beginning with the presentation of problems existing in four relationships, and ending with surprisingly satisfying resolutions (or at least transitions). On the Netflix page for this series, some of the reviews mark it down for various reasons (hey, it's not for everyone...it's very sexually explicit, for one thing), but the reason that appalled me was that watching the old couple in sexual acts was something they could have done without.

In a show that is not about pornography, but rather about sexuality and relationships, not only did these viewers miss the point completely, but they are blindly accepting their own ageism. I don't know why ageism exists. In the case of sex, our culture is embued with sexphobia and sex-shame, so it makes sense to me that people, whenever watching a sexual situation, will place themselves in their imagination in that exact place, as if they themselves were engaged in that scene. And so they don't want to picture themselves having sex with their mom or dad.

Just a guess. I wasn't shocked or put off at all by the scenes of the old couple sharing sexual intimacy. Maybe that is because I have a relationship with art, particularly the art of narrative and story-shaping. The show is a powerful story, and this is certainly an essential element in that story.

Not that I don't have my own issues with aging. I watched a film starring a particularly attractive (to me) young actor last night, and while I enjoyed the film for what it was, I found myself very distracted by not only the beauty of the young man, but also a strong sense of pain that I did not possess his physical qualities myself. I've been working with this issue lately, so it makes sense that it would "come up." Even if I were in "perfect" physical shape by modern social expectations, I would not have the same build as this actor. This led into a sexual psychology I haven't yet examined very carefully, that of a desire to possess another person physically. I'm sure there are many sources for researching and ways to explore and understand this phenomenon, so I'll put that on a shelf and return to it later.

I'm often shocked and unsettled when people in their fifties call me "still a baby." I think this is a form of self-belittlement. Certainly I often feel flattered and relieved by such a label, as it indicates I'm still "youthful" and am not expected to take adult responsibility for my actions. But, as I said, it's also unsettling, because ultimately I don't see any use - or LOGIC - in "old" being an undesirable trait. Even at 38, I'm surprised how much I've lived through and came out on the other side. I can look back and see big black holes wherein I was not in the present, but rather locked in anxiety and despair. Right now, I'm as old as I can be, and even though I have dreams and ideas about what I want to be doing tomorrow and next month and this time next year, I am much more comfortable in my own mortality than I was ten years ago.

To me, age indicates survival and strength. I don't have a sense of what sexuality and aging really means, or what aging DOES to sexuality (or vice versa), but I have, at least, a theory or two. We, USians, are commonly hung up on sexuality, which is tangled in mainstream social cliches, and hence moving past youth seems to carry a message with it of asexual depression. Also, inversely (?), with experience our sexuality can become deeper, more effective, more loving.

Is this true? I "got that" while watching Tell Me You Love Me.

And watching the film last night, the one with the beautiful actor, I "got" the importance, in a deeper way, of living in the present. Love the now, because there is no future, and the past is no longer. The film is Peaceful Warrior, and its plot is very familiar, perhaps nothing new, perhaps too schmaltzy for those who prefer their movies to have grit and blood, but it really moved me. I'm grateful for it, and I hope to live it, my way. But that's the future, so right now, I am.

I'm also kind of horny.

02 May

Religion as a right/wrong game

An internet friend of mine recently told me that he thinks a non-traditional Mass (like the Roman Catholic post-Vatican-II-style Masses) were orthodoxically incorrect. He sent me a link or two and invited me to read them to understand his point of view better.

I considered doing so, but then realized that such a thing goes against the very path I'm trying to walk.

For me, orthodoxy according to whom is the issue. Yes, we can learn from tradition. But it's just not important to me to take my "right teaching" and "right practice" from any church's dictated spokesperson(s) or institution(s). I participate in a ritual, such as a Mass, because I feel it brings me closer to God, helps me prepare my self for that Divine contact.

I feel closer to God with a folk Mass than a three-hour Orthodox liturgy, for example. Do I care about "correctness" when it is successful in that way? Of course not.

To me, spirituality is not a right/wrong game. I have no use for logic in this realm, as it's not about logic or correct interpretation of God's will. I don't need to discern or be taught God's will. If it's God's will, if God is all-powerful, then that will has already been done. If I'm supposed to choose correct behavior via my own free-will, then I can only assume that knowledge of such behavior should be obvious, such that it's easy to know if I'm going against what God "wants."

I think God loves. I'm not so sure that God cares if we all agree about liturgical formulae.

Peace and all good.
01 May

The virtues of meanness

Today's "Get Fuzzy" has brought forth some questions.

Does the failure of someone, when insulted, to snap back at someone like a cat constitute spinelessness?

Does the failure of the Democratic Party to ruthlessly lie and shed blood upon its opponents consitute spinelessness?
Is it true, as so many progressive pundits are saying, that the only way to beat the neocons and to change the world for the better is to play their nasty game and shove it right back in their collective face?

If so, does the end justify the means?

And in actuality, will such means actually lead to the desired end?

In other words, does ruthlessness have corrupting or addictive powers over those who employ it?

And now, rather than a question, a statement:

I'd rather converse with, befriend, have sex with, fall in love with, date, marry someone who shows a thoughtful and kind regard in his or her dealings with others, than to do any of those things with someone who speaks with blunt nastiness.  The nastiness is an ugly thing, and the thoughtfulness leads to more just decisions.  Hence, I prefer the same qualities in my elected officials.
As for beating the neocons, I don't know the answer.  But I do suspect that beating them by becoming them is a rather pointless exercise.