Change of Heart and Car-less

I think it must have been that month in France a couple of summers ago that really did it. Driving used to be this therapeutic experience for me. In my younger years, when I was angry or needed to clear my head, I'd go for a drive; road trips were short little mini-vacations themselves, and my red mustang knew its own way to Orlando and Boca Raton. Once, I jumped in my jeep and drove to Washington DC for dinner! No big deal, it was only nine and a half hours.

Perhaps I finally grew tired of it after commuting forty-five minutes each way for over ten years, or maybe I started to realize how much our country is grossly dependent upon cars and the effects of such dependency on the world around us. Whatever the reason for this evolution of thought, I found myself completely and utterly content with tram systems, subways, high-speed trains, and my own two legs while in France. It was a true change of heart, and since that time, I've been discontent with my own dependency.

For the past four months, we've not been hindered in the least by living car-less. On the contrary, we actually enjoy not having one. (the baby car sold this week--we are officially car-less now!) Only once in the past four months have we actually needed a vehicle, and in this case, it was to transport a piece of furniture that wouldn't have fit in our baby car anyway! (Grateful, once again, to a kindhearted uncle) Add to this the beautiful benefit of dinner in the city and not having to worry who will drive home, so, yes, thanks for asking, we'll both have another glass of wine.

Obviously, not everyone can practically function without a car, but it was important for us to give this a go. I had tried and failed in Louisville; anyone who has had to rely upon the TARC system knows how utterly discouraging this experience can be! Dealing with our own dependency on a car was not our main motivation behind moving to New York, but it was powerful factor in the decision making process. As with many things, it is simply not enough for us to talk about changing the mindset of the world in which we live; this time, it was important for us to actually be the change we want to see in this world.

It may seem like a small thing, and truthfully, it sometimes feels insignificant, but then I remember this, choose to go on, and do the best I can:

I am only one,

But still I am one.

I cannot do everything,

But still I can do something;

And because I cannot do everything,

I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

Edward Everett Hale

Peace to you!

Fare thee well, Louisville

We are here! I am so excited to begin this new chapter with this Love I now call home! It seems that I have unknowingly underestimated the sheer enjoyment that comes from having someone in which to share life's adventures. My bad; I stand corrected. I must be the luckiest person in the world.
Wow. Having only planned to stay in Louisville for six months or so when I moved back in 1997, I'd say it was certainly time. Not being overly thrilled about the idea of moving back to Louisville (sorry!), I'll admit that it took me a bit to warm up to the place. I loved and missed my family and they were here, so that was my starting point. The next sixteen years were full of many events. Some expected, but many, many unexpected events along the way. Some were beautiful, some were heart-wrenching, and some were absolutely life-changing. I lost a job that I thought I'd keep forever (but this took me on a life-changing, magnificent soul search!), I saw two beautiful nephews begin life and add immeasurable joy to our family, and I found the Love I now call home, or rather she found me. I traveled often, and I (finally) received my degree, a life-long goal. I also found myself; oddly enough, I hadn't even realized that I was missing, but I most certainly was.

So, I'll hold Louisville as a special place, and I'm sincerely grateful to have met each and every one of you along the way. Yes, even those who have produced some of those heart-wrenching events! I could not have always said that, but I've come to see that every encounter taught me something about myself, life, love, kindness, and humanity in general, so for that, I am grateful.

I'd thought I'd leave you with a few parting suggestions as I go:

1. Relax in the moment. No, I really mean it. Just relax in the moment.
2. Get involved in an organization that is creating dialogue in the community. I suggest KFTC-Kentuckians for the Commonwealth, but if this isn't your cup of tea then find one that fits.
3. Go to WorldFest in the Fall. It is a wonderful display of this community's international beauty--I don't care if it's hot or rainy, go and show your support. I'll truly miss going.
4. Make an effort to get to know people--especially those who have different opinions/beliefs/lives/cultures from you. As Brown Pop always says, "It's not wrong, it's just different." We all have much more in common than we realize. (...and we'd all be better people if we followed Brown Pop's example.)
5. Read Thich Nhat Hanh's book, Good Citizens. 
6. Eat at Yaffa Cafe on 4th and Broadway. You can will most definitely thank me later.
7. Be kind. I believe it was Mother Teresea who said, "I prefer to make mistakes in kindness than to work miracles in unkindness."

Finally, find your peace. My peace and happiness might not suit you, but it is a most wonderful, joyous, fulfilled place to me. Be happy. Keep in touch. I'll miss you.

Identity

In one of my classes we've been discussing, among other things, identities. To some degree, our identity is always being stretched, pulled, redefined and challenged. That's just part of being in this thing called life. This discussion has caused me to think in terms of my life's journey and the twists, turns, ups, downs, tears and laughter that have brought me to this beautiful present moment. It has taken some time to come to terms with myself. Years actually. After I allowed myself to be at peace with me, it has taken me some time to come to terms with the fact that some people now see me in a somewhat tainted light. I knew it would happen, I warned myself to prepare for such a thought, but yet I was unprepared for how I'd feel. I harbor no ill will, but still I hope....

I remembered a piece I had written a few years ago. I'll post it below. Writing has played an integral role in my inner dialogue on the topic of identity. My journey of self-identity has also made me more deeply aware of the ways in which I form my opinions of others. I hope I'm becoming more loving. I hope I'm becoming more tolerant. I sincerely hope I'm becoming more compassionate. I hope we learn to cut ourselves and each other a little slack--or a lot of slack. Whether we live in New York, Louisville, London, or Beijing, we're all in this together. Really.

One Thing Among Many

(2011)

I like me; I won’t lie. I think I’m funny as hell. I love my sarcastic soul.

I get lost in music.

I love to laugh.

I've been drinking coffee since I was two.

I’m a fighter.

I’m loyal.

When my family or friends are attacked, a fury rises up within me; 

Do not pick on the ones I hold dear—they are my world.

My eyes are blue.

My hair is short.

I’m a lefty.

I keep a wall around my heart. Few get in. It takes time to truly get to know me.

Charlie Brown and Snoopy are the greatest.

I love the outdoors. Fresh air is good for the soul.

I love cigars and wine.

I love to talk—to anyone about anything. There’s so much we can learn from each other.

I’m a good listener.

I’m a nerd.

I believe that dreams do come true.

I love my life. It is this grand adventure full of highs and lows; 

it is my own journey that no one else can live.

I love learning from those who hold a different point of view than mine.

Peanut Butter & Jelly is the best sandwich ever invented.

I’m a book-lover; 

many hours past bedtime were spent with the moon as my nightlight.

I love to watch TV with my dad.

I have a temper and a two broken toes to prove it.

I play piano.

Some of my favorite childhood memories are of cutting wood with my dad and grandpa.

I love languages and cultures; dialogue is a beautiful art.

My dad is my hero. He has the kindest soul I have ever known.

I love tattoos.

My mom is my inspiration to go after what I want in this life: don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do.

I’m overly optimistic.

I love to travel. 

I am gay.

first page of a final chapter

It is an odd feeling to know that my final semester begins tomorrow. I've been trying to let this sink in. In a way, it's like starting the first page of a final chapter. New York is waiting patiently for us [16 weeks in the future] as the first chapter of a volume two and I believe it will be quite the sequel. 

My challenge for these next weeks of study is to stay in the present. Words are not sufficient to express our excitement concerning our future plans, but to live too far in the future would be to waste the lessons I still have left to learn here. To grasp towards the future is to miss out on an awful lot of living right here, right now.

A fulfillment of a dream doesn't come along everyday, so this is one I want to stay completely and utterly awake for.

Namaste

The process

With a move six months on the horizon, I've been contemplating my months years in Louisville. A two day ride on a greyhound bus brought me back from Spokane and I still recall the apprehension I felt in the darkness of that long ride. The thought of my family brought a smile, but beyond this, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing or going to do. My only plan was to find a plan.

Oddly enough, the plan that landed in my lap became the source of some of my highest moments as well as my lowest. During these years, I experienced the very best of human kindness and felt the horrendous blow of corrupted power. I grew in personal confidence, but I also saw my own flaws flare like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I viewed life from the mountain top and slammed rock bottom as quick as a flash. What threatened to crush me pointed me in the direction of my greatest happiness and fulfillment. Funny how that works.

It has taken me a while to reach this point, but I am grateful. I am grateful for the process--the painfully slow, torturing process we call life. My life is nothing like it was ten years ago, but I am who I am today because of everything I've experienced. It is part of my story--my voice. The process has carved out more of my true self, the self that always seemed to be inside, waiting patiently, but craving to breath fresh air.

Over the top of my computer screen, I see this Love I now call home. Yeah...you better believe I'm grateful.