Op-Ed: What the CIRC Report Still Doesn’t Know | The Cycle Life | OutsideOnline.com

Op-Ed: What the CIRC Report Still Doesn’t Know | The Cycle Life | OutsideOnline.com.

Look…as a cyclist for many many years, I am here to tell you that the whole notion of what is doping and what is “cheating” needs to be rethought.

Cycling is caught in the same technological birthing pangs as the science of gender is:  as technology advances so does the ability to bring the body to higher places of performance and congruence…and it is only cheating if the rules are defined to exclude it!

Think Formula One racing, how every single year technology brings out more and more amazing innovative race cars.  Cycling is like that now…new understandings of healing, of training, of recovery.

Bring the rules into the 21st century…let go of old superstitions and bound up views…mandate the in depth use of all the latest techniques under the closest supervision.  Ban those cyclists who don’t seek out these things.

After all, the danger was the clandestine use of these things without reputable supervision…just like the early days of do it yourself HRT

Charissa says check it out!

Nothing But Trash

I can’t seem to get it out of my head right now,
that voice that says I am nothing but trash.

I watched them eat today…all the love I poured out
into a soup made of cabbage and heart, tomatoes and soul,
sausage and love…and oodles of noodles spiced and
called Minestrone…

how could they know what I add to it,
as I stir it, sing over it, taste it, and most of all
picture their faces and hear their glad voices
as they partake of it and are made more whole?ophelia_by_avine-d8gzrdwI don’t use any measuring cups for adding me, I just
pour it in, and then add a bit more…that’s who I want to be.
That’s who I think I am, try to be…
but the voice, gawd that gibbering skritching itchy voice
so insinuating, sibilant, and reminding…it never forgets,
it never lets me forget either.tumblr_mh7kswp48l1qg39ewo1_500oh fuuuu…how I wish I could forget making
a love offering, excited and sweet and for
a Once in a Lifetime Special Occasion…
and to the trash bin…to the trash
and that is what the voice says I am
a transgender piece of trash not worth
the paper I am printed on.

“you call yourself grace, at least have the good grace
to go die, or at least put yourself in the trash”.

I poured me in!  My me…in there!
So nothing, me…so trashy me…so dangerous and poison,
me.

and then voice speaks of the transgression of the me,
and the infinite regress of guilty, and
guilty by association…

not a good time for this garbage
nothing but trash.tumblr_mwe8yxcZhZ1rouua1o1_1280

 

Shrieking

inside, shrill, ringing and sounding tuneless and loud
never varying or rising or falling
and yet shrieking, screaming in horror
in terror of the tongues wagging
tongues slurring, and my heart
shrieking.

how can a shriek be, with no rising and falling,
doesn’t it usually sound like an ambulance
on the way to a 6 car pileup and bodies ejected?

no…this shriek is the ambulance on the way back in
with someone who will be called DOA
but arrival has not yet commenced

so it just tears and pours and roars and shrills
and spills and scratches and gouges
and shrieks.

god I wish it would stop.

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Breathing Underwater Once Again

That long slow glacier spit me out whole
Into the ice-cold sea, fully formed and floating.
Everyone saw me hit, that splash, those waves,
and my voyage launched and me christened.
They broke their arms patting themselves on the back
because I was looming, tall, could sink ships and loose lips,
and I made them forget how deep the ocean really is.tumblr_nh9f9wH4x81r3wk1zo6_1280They didn’t know I was born breech and upside down.
They didn’t know I couldn’t breathe.
Have I told you my recurring dream, that I could breathe underwater?
In that dream I go where I want, I am free, and I suck in
great draughts of release and blow out winds of release
and I live in the place of one, limber and lithe and little
until the dream-ender smashes my face in again, and I surface and choke again.tumblr_nc9vp6L89D1qgvdcto1_1280Storms rage, waves rise and billows blow against me
but I just float along, every once in awhile catching my breath
between waves, when they are careless and let me snatch a gulp.
But I have noticed something…the rhythm of the storm, and myself
and the timing of ruin running and tugging in deadly gravity:
It’s gonna follow Napoleon into Russia, and when it does
I will be ready to go all counter-intuitive flippy-floppy!tumblr_nkwoymmVUu1spq83no1_500Yep…I am going to turn upside down and let my dreams come true
Stick that soggy, waterlogged drowned rat soul straight up into air,
just roll in the waters until I have no choice whatsoever but to breathe.
Maybe there will be water-jewels showing? (They look like carbuncles to me)
Maybe there will be pits and secret crevices shocking that the leering crowds
will peel, eat, and throw away as they move along to the next carny freak show…
But at least I will be able to breathe…finally…and dreams at last come true.


“In the case of this jewel-like iceberg, the ice is probably very old. In glaciers, years of compression force out air pockets and gradually make the ice denser,” according to the National Snow and Ice Data Center.

“When glacier ice becomes extremely dense, the ice absorbs a small amount of red light, leaving a bluish tint in the reflected light, which is what we see.”

“In addition, minerals and organic matter may have seeped into the underwater part of the iceberg over time, creating its vivid green-blue color.”

The Far Side of Finding

When you look for something, you will never find it.
See, things move around, pushed hither and yon
by the pressure of searching eyes leaning against them,
straining eyes longing to wrap them in desire,
so they squirt thru our eye fingers slippery like fish
squirting thru the billowy tentacles of a hungry octopus. tumblr_ni2tj8ZQ041tbb5qdo1_1280

And it’s sad, because you aren’t really looking for that thing.
No, what you groan for is that space, that yearning hollow place
in between the thing and your thoughts
in between that maelstrom between your ears
and the tableau between your fingers
which are sticky and messy and covered in paint.tumblr_mkfn6dAZET1s31miko1_500You’re looking for yourself, or rather the answer
bouncing back to you from another heart
instead of off of another…what?  No, another who.
Because we live just this side of that fit, that meld,
And when we set off searching we end up over there…
on the far side of finding and still oh so hungry.tumblr_nkwuaaAxGD1rbbwv5o1_1280

Aanndd now I am crying…

for my good old Millie.

“I buried Little Ann by the side of Old Dan. I knew that was where she wanted to be. I also buried part of my life along with my dog.”
—Wilson Rawls, Where the Red Fern Grows

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Privilege is granted, and it CAN be YANKED!

Constance, I ran across this “rant” on privilege:

There is this attitude, when people bring up white privilege, male privilege, heterosexual privilege, that is starting to bother me more and more every time I see it. It’s the attitude that causes people to respond “Oh, but I’M a GOOD white/male/straight person” or “Well not ALL white/male/straight people are like that!”

Okay well

1) I didn’t accuse you of anything so let’s get back to the actual issue, the social structure built up around us, instead of going off on to tangents

2) thanks for belittling the whole issue with you’re petty self-serving ultra-prideful comments that didn’t promote or advance the conversation in any way

3) Just because you don’t see the problem doesn’t mean it isn’t there. And more importantly, privilege is something society gives to you, you don’t have the power to just give it back, or deny it. Like it or not, you have it.

Accept that, and instead of trying to assure me of how much you don’t want it or don’t think you have it, why don’t you find ways to fix the flawed system that gave it to you.

Here is the deal:  it is granted, and it can be snatched away…I know, up close and personal.

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The Sickness in our Souls…

Sadly, Constance, “Animal Cruelty” is merely human beings being what they are…directed at animals.

It is what we have become…because when Animal Cruelty is directed at me, it is gender cruelty, and when it is directed at someone of a different race it is racial cruelty…

…who are we kidding?  We are sick, and we need a cure.

Soundtrack to a Miracle

This song was playing when They did a significant and life preserving miracle in my life…in 2008, when I had gone on a trip with plans to never come back…and I mean never come back to this world.

I love Them so, They are so good and nothing but good.  (DDH…still need to tell you this!!)

12 Empowering Children’s Books To Add To Little Girls’ Bookshelves

12 Empowering Children’s Books To Add To Little Girls’ Bookshelves.

It’s remarkable how many of these I had already read…and loved. 

San Diego clinic finds high need for treatment of transgender youth | EurekAlert! Science News

San Diego clinic finds high need for treatment of transgender youth | EurekAlert! Science News.

Quite interesting article. 

For Better and Worse

What is worse?
Failure to comprehend
or inability to do so
or simple stupid unwillingness?

Well, those are bad,
but I think maybe
that mindful dedicated
application of religion
is the worst of Worse!

Disguised in pretty robes
and preening in petite frocks
but there beneath the costume
naked greed bathing in legalism
and staring into the mirror
of pragmatic production
of self righteousness.

Opposite of Beauty, that!
Legalism.
Opposite of Beauty, this!
Greed.
Opposite of Life, there!
Pragmatism.

And those determiners
strangle souls
and injure the living
with their so called answers
and blind eye to suffering
and hard heart to longing.

What is worse?
Not knowing any better
and not knowing any worse.tumblr_nkcu99jEau1rebxsto1_1280

 

The Language of Lilies

After all this hurt and all this pain

(when would that be?  After?
When does that happen?)

I choose silences.
I choose to let myself be haunted by words
rather than speak those rivers
that would erode fabricated realities.tumblr_nkysbbiivV1thfeewo1_400Tonight the wind smells like memories…
oh nothing I can put my finger on,
mind you…just memories
blowing on winds fragrant
with nostalgia and neglect.

I am mindful in these memories
of the language of lilies
and I wonder if I have missed 
some great and vital means and end
in their present beauty,
some antidote for anxiety,
some prescription for preoccupation,
some long term cure contained
in short-lived beauty born?tumblr_neun01eNyf1sq3g2zo1_1280I am mindful of Mary
there in Bethany pouring out
perfume fragrant and pervading
with extravagance
permeating every pore present
and singing the liturgies of lilies
on the winds!

Sweetly, singly soaring over that rukus of disgust and anger
that puffed up, distracted religious men
righteously piled on in their
Canticle to Cacophony!tumblr_m6aywgZh0X1ro74x3o1_500They hated her…but they hated Him more
for His blindness to her there,
clinging in tears and wild hair

sinner
whore
profligate waster
defiler and defiled!

They hated His stinky feet
smelling of humility and adoration,
perfumed in gratitude and broken beauty
and I think they would hate me, too
sitting silent and choosing
the haunting wind over the haughty story.tumblr_nkt7lsPymx1u6ehjeo2_500
I imagine the language of lilies
that day divinely appointed
and here this night now,
I look, listen midst ashes all around me
to catch a glimpse of life
in risk and recognition,
of rising up, above
the toiling, turning,
spinning and weaving…

life lived
simple and poured out
in haunting perfumed
adoration and beauty…
life as a lily,
and how it grows fleeting
and haunted by memories in the wind
and eternity in my heart.Image 002

Tell that to the dead Transwomen of 2015…

Nothing in the world can bother you as much as your own mind, I tell you. In fact, others seem to be bothering you, but it is not others, it is your own mind.
Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

Sorry, male cis-gendered person…gotta call BS on this one.

The person spouting filth at me in front of kindergarten children?  That was not just “in my mind”.

Constance…when you take your outrage for injustice out of your mind, your sense of compassion out of your mind and let it be incarnate in your actions in this world…THEN we will see some transformation!

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Sex redefined : Nature News & Comment

Sex redefined : Nature News & Comment.

Giggles…big time!

I wanna see the person who will tell her now that they are enforcing the binary on her that they have sought to enforce on me…and tell her she is not really a woman.

Here is a crude and sad fact:  in a large group of minds genitalia and gender are identical.

How ignorant.  How blind.  How sad.

An Eloquent Life

It’s not ‘natural’ to speak well, eloquently, in an interesting articulate way.
People living in groups, families, communes say little—have few verbal means.
Eloquence—thinking in words—is a byproduct of solitude, deracination, a heightened painful individuality.
Susan Sontag, As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh, Journals & Notebooks

 

Constance, this may be so?  But I will tell you what is not “natural” to me…it is not natural to not speak.  It is not natural to open the heart and tell of its deepest places, and then shut it again and starve someone.  It is not natural to draw someone into a place of intimacy and then stone them.  It is not natural to tell someone how towering their significance is in one’s life, and then allow an event of life to tower so greatly that they never talk to the other person of “significance” ever again.

It is not natural to take the secrets of someone’s openness and then harbor them if they are your own and then not respond in kind and thus hold that person in your debt.

It is not natural to make a person feel like they are a burden for breathing, a weight for wanting, a dead body for desiring.

There are people I miss so badly, that I guess it is not natural to be separated from the ones you love.

I wish this wasn’t so.  I wish that I wasn’t some chore to check off a list.  I wish I wasn’t some shade to whisper of around campfires.  I wish I wasn’t judged dead because an understanding of who and what I am was in error and must die and be reborn in a truer way.

I wish I was treasured more than memory.

I wish someone wanted to talk to me everyday instead of toss some Alpo in the dish and disappear until my ribs show thru.

I wish…I wish.

I wish I could forget the words a man told me of undying friendship and what I meant to him and how he is changed forever because of me…because his actions tell the truth that his words lied.

I wish I could forget the words a woman said to me that are undermined by her actions like the ocean undermines a glacier until it falls into the sea and is melted and gone…

I wish I wasn’t me…but who then would I be?  Who should I be?

Well…I will be the person I wish these others were, and strive to not be the person who is like them.

I will try to be there, always.  I will try to speak, and then do and do with all I have.

I will try to make a life that is full and not hollow, present and not absent, flexible and changing as time births new understandings of history.

I will try to forgive and remember, but remember in redemption and grace.

Oh Mama help me…I am so hollow.tumblr_n17h1pDz3d1sf6ldyo1_500

Ask for Password…It’s Not All Glitter and Rainbows: 6 Harmful Myths About Coming Out — Everyday Feminism

 

But we shouldn’t be pressuring people to come out. Instead, we should be challenging the expectation that others are entitled to our identities.

No one should be demanding that people take on the risks of coming out. No one except you can make that decision. Your identity is yours, and no one else owns it.

You don’t owe anyone anything – especially not people who are ignoring your personal autonomy and safety by demanding that you come out.

via It’s Not All Glitter and Rainbows: 6 Harmful Myths About Coming Out — Everyday Feminism.

Constance…I face a lot of challenges in life that are in addition to the ones faced by all people simply as a condition of being in this world.  If you have read here for awhile, you are acquainted with the gamut of these, and if you are new, well have a gander at the other posts ;-)…giggle.

My point is that it is the additional ones that kill.  They are like the difference between running a marathon, and running one chased by dogs, and running one when you aren’t fast enough to keep from getting nipped numerous times on the run.  And it is the nips that bleed, get infected, and drain…of vitality, of energy, and eventually of hope.tumblr_mwey0r4LUa1rze6z5o1_500

Right now the hardest of these challenges for me is that of making myself known to other people that are of utmost importance to me.  They are mourning what they perceive as the loss of the person they knew, rather than perceiving it as the loss of the explanatory narrative that stitched together our common history.

For a whole host of reasons, some of them spiritual, some of them developmental, and most of them cultural/paradigm related, the onus and burden falls squarely on me in this process…to be the bigger person…to walk the second mile, or the third or the fourth, or however many miles must be walked…to turn the other cheek again and again and again…

My own identity is in need of justification, of proving, of validating, and the ways I respond either contribute to or detract from my right to be.

Judgement is passed on the narrative that I have, as it compares to the narrative that was.tumblr_mh7kswp48l1qg39ewo1_500

Again…I get it.  Fairness is not the operative determinant.  But I want it to be understood:  this is a costly gift, and gift I do think it is.  It is not something that I owe…to anyone except myself whom I owe the debt of authenticity inner and outward.  I think that my perspective on things is equally valid, is equally valuable and to be treasured.  The “things I have lost” or the sense that “what I thought I had never existed” is just as real, as vibrant and legitimate for me as it is for anyone else who feels like they are being robbed.

Let me state it baldly:  anything they are “robbed of” wasn’t real in the first place.

How about this:  instead of the point of view that “a father I thought I had is now dead and replaced by you”, how about this: “I have a father who just happens to be a woman, and the idea I held that my father was also a male was an incorrect one.  I am fortunate to be able to have this inaccurate understanding corrected while there is still time and life remaining to know this person that I valued and treasured as a father!”

Because this is my story…my history.  I fathered four people…as a woman who inhabits a body that is biologically male.  And as far as I am aware, my children always felt that I was a good dad to them, valuable in the love, acceptance and counsel that I offered them.  And I am still here!  The same person with the same ideas and same truths (and some newly understood ones too).

Perhaps instead of me saying over and over again I am sorry I am sorry…I am sorry for being…I am sorry for wanting to be, needing to be…maybe it could be thought about that a different sorry could be said…I am sorry that I held onto my own belief and insistence that a father has to be spiritually and biologically male and only that…I am sorry that I invalidated the lives and efforts of the millions of women who “fathered” young boys into men because there was no one else there.

I am posting this link, because it gets to a lot of the reasons why there is so much gravity behind the other narrative, the one that requires me to justify my right to exist, my right to pursue congruency, my right to be free from suicidal ideation, my right to feel okay about the truth that I did the best I could and while not a perfect parent did a pretty adequate job even compared to a cis-male…and as a transgender woman serving in the role of father and not knowing, well maybe I did an admirable job.

and maybe I suck.  but I suck based on what I did and didn’t do, not based on whether I identfy as male or female…others who are insisting with actions that the actual measure of my being is in that identification are the ones who must grapple with the suckitude they frolic in!tumblr_nhg9ugnlFx1sp3hhvo1_1280

Read the article…acquaint yourself with the myths…and then divest yourself of them for some clearer, more objective standards that we will all, together, be held accountable to…how we love one another, how we forgive one another, whether we divorce and separate ourselves or remain connected…those are things that will endure long after gender identification falls away as not needed.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.tumblr_nkizy29dm51sooy9go1_1280

 

How Misogyny Shows Up in the Queer Community — Everyday Feminism

How Misogyny Shows Up in the Queer Community — Everday Feminism.

Good fodder for thought…and applies to the cis-norm community in spades.  I think we all have something to learn from this one.

 

 

The Wreck in Ruination

This instrument, bound in time and dust and ashes
attacked by pressure and moments passing
wracked by neglect and careless stroking
of keys made of flesh and bone

has lost its continuity, lost its simple melody
cannot follow harmony
but mashes sound chromatic
and dissonant, dramatic
just echoes all the static

that rattles all around it,
neath the layers of grime
the passage of time
and each gender crime

To These Bars You Flock

looking through them,
at me here inside
rattling my tin cup
back and forth
clitter-clatter-clikity-clak-clak

shouting, raising a ruckus
and raving about the lost key
buried somewhere out there with you
in the snow and sheep dip and shed wool…

and yet you stand, stare, and bleat
about bearing crosses and binary rules
uncrossable rivers and unforgivable sins…

even in frozen air
the smell of sheep

is pervading everything

sheep!

Though Ye Be Made of Stone

Ye possess a beauty innate
far surpassing my deepest efforts
and most twisted machinations,
for I have being in living flesh sensate,
I dwell in alchemical dirt miracle

While you, though made of stone
find shape and form that fits you fair
and curve that matches moons and stars
and softness that my soul sings of in air,
and sadness choked and stifled by me, dirt and stone.

you are carved, a statue, stuck and still
and yet are one, while I am severed in this chill,
never knowing unified connection
with myself and peace within the nill.

alas and not a lass, that’s me
and you? mere shackles hold you
that one day you can break or be delivered from
by some grave Odysseus or Hercules,
someone with the boldness to forgive you

i would trade plights with you in a millisecond

A Letter to my son Jacob on his 5th birthday — Medium

A Letter to my son Jacob on his 5th birthday — Medium.

Gender orientation…once again.  In another brain, in another place, in another genetic pool, unrelated to me, unrelated to “demonic possession”, unrelated to “unsubmission and rebellion”, unrelated to “mental illness”…

…related to the gender spectrum and continuum of creation as human, male at one pole and female at the other…related to hormone washes over body and brain and the differences in how they align…related to a world that sometimes spawns cleft palates, holes in hearts, heart murmurs, diabetes, etc. etc. …related to a world where the miracles of modern medicine exist to alleviate suffering and give life fulfilled and joyful…

…pushing against your taboos…pressing against your prejudices…pounding down your judgments…piercing the veils of your ignorance…presenting to you new understandings…

…those with ears, let them hear…

Someone Tell Me That I’ll Live: On Murder, Media, and Being a Trans Woman in 2015 – xoJane

I am starting to think that trans women and trans femmes — all of us linked by the cardinal sin of being named boys at birth, yet breaking the rules of boyhood and manhood — are trapped inside a traumatized story. From an early age, we are inundated with the story of our deaths, we relive it over and over many times before we actually die.

This same story is taken up, commoditized, and mass produced by communities outside of ourselves — media outlets looking for sensational stories, academics looking to produce research, and as Morgan Collado points out, even “LGBT” human rights organizations eager to use the statistics of transphobic violence to garner funds used to pursue the interests of cis, white gays and lesbians.

Even well-meaning liberal cis people, eager to earn “ally” points, consume and exploit the narrative of the doomed trans woman in their way.

via Someone Tell Me That I’ll Live: On Murder, Media, and Being a Trans Woman in 2015 – xoJane.

Constance, you know my thoughts about this topic.  This article states them far more eloquently than I do.  There is a part of the article speaking about how people who “knew us then” feel as if we have died already…

…in light of the murder of trans-women being an almost ritualized offering of human lives to the bloodthirsty god of patriarchy, it feels so eerie, as if my own loved ones consign me to those fires with forked fingers and muttered incantations invoking protection against the evil (trans) eye…

My deepest sorrow is that my life seems a curse.  If I exist as I was, then I am doomed and serving life in a prison invisible and undeclared and I am forever derided because I am depressed or despairing or I am resented because I hated myself…

…and if I exist as I am, then I am resented because I am the cause of death of a man who never was and never could be, except in the thoughts and minds of everyone around me.  And all they offer me is the promise that they will give me their illusions and fears to prop me up and costume me and call it liberty, or they will call me Patrick Henry and give me death.

It is my choice they say.

Yes…it is…my choice.  And I choose Tikkun.

I choose to live, and let go of all other things I cannot control.  And if I die before you wake, then I pray the Lord your soul will take…to the fountains of truth and revelation…and then I pray that He will take you across that river you so proudly declared you would never cross…I pray that He will ferry you across Himself, and show you the blood-soaked ground that constitutes the banks of the river called Rejection.-dcaa8f4b5344b04a

 

Why I Get Very Concerned When I Am Called Names…

The men became enraged once they discovered that Nettles was transgender, according to prosecutors and a fight broke out.

Dixon punched Nettles in the face, making her to fall to the ground and strike her head on the sidewalk, causing a serious brain injury, said Assistant District Attorney Nicholas Viorst.

Viorst alleges that Dixon brutally beat Nettles and “struck her repeatedly as she lay on the ground” while “driving the side of her head into the pavement.”

The indictment charges that Dixon used the sidewalk as a “dangerous instrument” to cause Nettles’ death.

via Brooklyn Man Arrested for 2013 Death of Transgender Woman Islan Nettles – Hamilton Heights – DNAinfo.com New York.

Constance…why?  Driving face into sidewalk…enraged at a gender orientation…punishment of a capital nature for the crime of…what?

Being “a dude in a dress”?  Being a “he/she?”

…and I am the one who has been judged as demonized…

*tears*Paolo Troilo

 

…but greater strength They will give

I have never ever found that God will make life easier.

Whatever it is I face, it never gets easier.

But I have also found that there is always an offer of greater strength…but not strength like humans see strength, it is Their strength that is offered…and that strength is made perfect in the crucible of our weakness.

In effect, you have to glory in weakness in order to become strong.

There is another name for the strength They give:  Grace.

Never made easier, but greater strength They will give, in grace upon grace.

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In Hope of Dust and Ashes

We start this life with such bright expectation,
each sunrise morn of discovery and
each eventide of hope, our lifetime passes
and time flows like tides constantly in waves

that wash in over us, the same and ceaseless
yet we, in ever-new anticipation
that this new day is diff’rent, something yet
to be discovered in the shell-pink dawn,
we lift our hearts up cheery with bright song.tumblr_nkijfepxvE1s6fchho1_1280But there are ashes from the desperate fires
that we assemble in the long sloe nights
so cold upon those yawning yearning shores,
when stars hide behind black clouds of unknowing
and oceans hide in mists of dank despair,

and we are forced to burn all our Hosannas,
those palms fronds of our hopes so optimistic
waved innocent and arrogant and prideful
because we hadn’t seen the moon’s dark side.tumblr_njh7l88RC31tsumipo1_500We built frail fires from those brittle branches
and clutched at weak warmth, bathed in dim wan light
and marked ourselves with those imposéd ashes
and mourned those days we sang triumphantly
unknowing of the coming loss of all
our innocence in suffering…

and sorrowing…

and death and…

Ashes…ashes…
we all fall down…

and we are mindful of our common crown,
our destiny of dust wreathed round our foreheads,
that destiny of dust around our hearts,
that destiny of dust from which we came

and thus departed

that destiny of dust and our return…

to dust returned,
from dust departed, dust returned,
from dust departed, dust returned,
from dust departed, dust returned,
from dust departed, dust returned,
dust returned…tumblr_mvt5wq6eGf1suq7neo1_500And it is only at this place, in ashes
after our hopes and dreams have burned to ash
and we have lost our hope and optimism
that we can finally see that stony path

and squinting, see the bloody foot-print outlines
left by the One who goes before our hearts,
the One who walks the Via Dolorosa
the One who, living, there lays down His Life,

the One who shows the way of self-denial
the way of sacrifice, relinquishment
entirely unnatural, the opposite
of every longing of our liquid hearts
that wants to feast upon self-preservation
and turn from bitter cups of self-denial…tumblr_ne0li72EJb1qgk7mfo1_1280And we must choose the place that we will walk:
the ceaseless shores of our naked ambition
and never finding ending place, or home?
Or…walk the path of ashes with this Shepherd
and lose our lives completely to His care
and thus spring from the ashes like a phoenix
leaps from the golden flames to live anew!

See, ashes are the opposite of owning
the mirror image of self-preservation,
the sign-post of the way of life He offers,
the insignia of the lifestyle that He models,
the mark He makes forever on His own
writ large in His own blood mixed with the ashes
of hopes consumed and dreams become dry dust!

This is the downward journey to the highest place victorious,
the deeps of Sabbath Rest and Victory Won.tumblr_njn61sFcPS1tsumipo1_500Regardless of the gods you say you follow,
we all share in a common destiny:
“From dust you’ve come, to dust you shall return”.
Like Him, we too shall die, Life’s pressing question
becomes…how shall we live?  How shall our lives
this day respond to death’s reality,
and answer to Life’s strident invitation
to leave all of our privilege and status,
and turn from lives marked for success and promise,
and turn from some potential undefined,
and turn from false things that we think are true,
and let go of wealth, power and consumption,
and deny that false god:  accomplishment
and dare to love our enemies with candor
and dare embrace the heady risk of peace
without one stray thought of self-preservation,
take courage to live for the sake of others
and for the sake of Him who shows this way,
the way thru death, the way of blood and ashes,
will we walk in valiant hope in dust and ashes?

We can sing our songs
of life in dust and ashes
and thus return to God
our dust redeemed.tumblr_mujjr2KMSj1sohz2fo1_500

My Honest and True Assumption

Constance, let’s face facts.

This woman is never going to be seen by the eyes of this paradigm.  It ain’t gonna happen.  Too many layers of judgment, too much weight of assumption, and not enough understanding of the nature of gender orientation and where it resides in a human being.tumblr_nkbhxsERto1qccjsuo1_1280I am never going to be “pretty” in the sense of how human eyes grown in the world in which I live perceive beauty.  My only possibilities for beauty lie within my soul…in my heart…in my spirit…in that inner life that my spirituality and theology teach me is the truest reality anyway and the only one that extends eternally.

Mama, please give me a hunger for true things that outweighs the longings that plague me, that cry out from each and every chromosome that finds itself at odds with the spiritual DNA that flows from (what, my brain?  My soul?  My heart?) me…

I close with this quote I ran across, and make it my goal…kindness, good humored, smart, and strong of heart.

We get so worried about being pretty. Let’s be pretty kind. Pretty funny. Pretty smart. Pretty strong.” tumblr_nkakqbLCV81r7huino1_500

Another Day of Insults, but…

…thank God for the director at the center where I volunteer!  She knows what the right thing to do and say is!

So…there was this “specimen” who came to the center today.  I know him, and he “knew” me…and did not even come close to recognizing who I was.  I was dressed in a very nice American Eagle plaid shirt, soft pink, flannel, and a tie-die spink broomstick skirt, with a black t-shirt top and pink jewelry.

I looked nice.

But as I walked by, I felt his eyes, I felt his derision.  I was in his vicinity less than 5 seconds, and yet for some reason he was compelled to refer to me to my director as “a dude in a dress”…

…as in “what’s with the dude in the dress”…

My director simply said “She wanted to wear a dress today”.  When he sought to contradict that and reiterate his insult, she stopped him, and repeated herself…and then a third time!

I was soo blessed by that, what she did.  She did not try to go into any explanation, she did not differentiate me in any way whatsoever.  She simply cut him off, and told him that I wanted to wear that pretty dress today.

I don’t know which was stronger…the resignation and sadness over another insult by another privileged boy, or the gladness and genuine admiration for this strong and steady soul who sees something worthy in me and lays it out straight to anyone who comes around.

I think I will go with the latter…

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Charissa Grace

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This Happens To Me…

Sometimes the meaning for things comes later. There’s a million poems that I’ve read that I have no idea what they mean but it does something to me to read them, they excite me like nothing else can excite me. Sometimes a lyric collects meaning—like a magnet collects iron filings—over time.
“The actual meaning is not that important—it’s the emotional resonance of something. When I sit down and write a song, I’m not trying to write something that people can learn from. Songs don’t impart wisdom or information, but we get a sense of awe when we’re in the presence of a good song that you don’t find anywhere else.
Nick Cave

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The Story of Ryland

Constance, I think I have posted about this previously, but I think this layout here is succinct, accessible, and easy to digest.  Ya know, I have been thinking about the backflips that some people do, the contortions they knot themselves in so that they can preserve a way of thinking about a topic and not have to deal with changing a point of view…

…sadly, they place that point of view over a person far too often, and end up contributing to a tragedy.

It really is the ultimate in idolatry…a human life slain on the altar of the idol of their point of view.

Thank God there are parents like these, who understand the appropriate reaction to the phenomenon of cognitive dissonance.

Upworthy Article

Video

Ryland’s story is real for people all over the globe.  Please listen to your children.  Be understanding and accepting.  If only Leelah Alcorn could have known such understanding parents.  Stop trans discrimination.

Challenging Gender Identity: Biologists Say Gender Expands Across A Spectrum, Rather Than Simply Boy And Girl

Challenging Gender Identity: Biologists Say Gender Expands Across A Spectrum, Rather Than Simply Boy And Girl.

Ohhh CONSTANCE!  I get so thrilled as we are able to “scientifically” demystify gender and thus debunk the superstitious taboos and unfounded prejudices against gender variant human beings!

When I first began my own research a few years back, the existence of intersex individuals immediately exposed the crux of the matter to me:  if someone was created with both sets of plumbing, how did we sanction what gender they were?  Even more basic, if they had both sets of plumbing and yet still strongly identified as one gender or the other, did that not prove that the determination of gender superseded a person’s plumbing?  Did it not implicitly cede that the core of gender identity was wrapped up in the warp and weft of what it is that makes someone who they are…that persistent and consistent expression we call personality or soul, that self that exists regardless of what happens in or to the body until life itself ceases in the person as an organism?

Yes!  Of course it did!

And now…the evidence is simply mounting to add visible evidence to what our hearts have always known…that we are more than our bodies!

It is such a shame that there are people who have made such misguided and ignorant judgements of a person’s moral standing or spiritual standing, on something as irrelevant as a body…

It’s an even deeper shame that those same people are missing out on the rich interaction they could be participating in here on the planet…

And it is riches irony when they will run into me inside those pearly gates, and find all their arguments and judgements rendered moot and null and void…and see me as I am and always was…a child of God who loves Them, confesses Them and seeks to live as a small imperfect picture of Their heart.

Reader…if you are one of these people, why not just give up now?  I will still be friends, if you will play nice and keep cruel words in the only place they belong:  the pits of hell.

How about you?  Will you dip into the wells of living water instead of the swamps of putrid judgments?17125668-mmmain

Charissa Grace

3 Reasons Why Saying ‘Real Men Don’t Rape’ Reinforces Rape Culture — Everyday Feminism

3 Reasons Why Saying ‘Real Men Don’t Rape’ Reinforces Rape Culture — Everyday Feminism.

This is must reading.  It gets to a very dangerous assumption:  that only monsters or freaks commit rape.

Sadly, rape is committed by loving fathers, normal husbands, common brothers…in short, by ordinary non-monster men who think it is their right to take what they want sexually from these other-gendered objects created merely for a man’s use and pleasure.

This message underlies major sections of some theological beliefs and it is based on a complete misunderstanding of the true nature and essence of who woman is…

…this attitude is inculcated at every turn in our culture today, and sadly women internalize much of this within themselves and end up being vulnerable in ways they would not otherwise wish to be.

I like how the author lays out the issue…head over and check it out, yeah?tumblr_njdbcqlsru1rhpg9vo1_1280

North Carolina mom believes bullying led to transgender teen’s suicide – LGBTQ Nation

North Carolina mom believes bullying led to transgender teen’s suicide – LGBTQ Nation.

Constance…ears are deaf to our pleas…another one has gone over the precipice of despair.

This area is the same one where some of my own dementors hail from, those truly baffling souls so full of hate that they are compelled to speak spite and make sure that they attempt to infuse my heart with that poison…oh yeah, cus they love me so much.

I am deeply saddened but not one bit surprised that this poor dear despaired in such a caustic and hateful atmosphere as this.

Ima keep on posting these things…you cannot pretend it doesn’t happen.  You cannot pretend that reading here is the same as supporting a transgender person.  If you read here but do nothing, you are like the rich person who walks the streets in -20 degrees below zero and tells the ones who freeze in their nakedness “be warm, be warm.”

Listen:  it is not going to stop until you get you up out of your ease and privilege and stand with me!  With us!  In your community…and yeah, you will lose face and reputation and may be called a name or two…quel horreur!

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Charissa Grace

http://www.wsoctv.com/videos/news/mother-believes-bullying-led-to-transgender-teens/vDH8L9/