Love Wins in Washington

The New Normal

I have a new friend who, for the sake of this post, I will call "John".

John introduced me to a television show today called, "The New Normal".

I watched several episodes of this show tonight, and, needless to say, I am hooked.

There are some amazing things going on in this show.  The writing is great, the characters are interesting, and most importantly, the themes of love and fear run throughout.  In each of the episodes, I found myself going from tearful and touched to giggly and fuzzy.  The show is hopeful in a way that many don't even dare to be.

I would like to say that the show is especially poignant for me because my mother was gay and for most of her life she was forced to live a closeted life. I could, without any reservation, say that it is poignant because my mother, through much of her relationships, was forced to call her life partner her "business partner" whenever she had to deal with individuals whom she feared might have a closed mind about her life.

But the real reason this is poignant for me, the real reason this show brings me to tears, is that it demonstrates the progress that has been made in this country by individuals brave enough to face their fears.

Our system, more and more, is being set up to profit from the fears of its citizens.  It is far too easy for us to turn our backs on each other because we are different.

As a kid I learned in school that war is hard.  But now, I realize that is untrue.  War, hate, fear, those are easy, lazy.  The hardest thing to do is accept, tolerate, and open up.  The hardest thing to work for is peace, because peace means you have to make peace with yourself.  Peace with yourself.

My mother didn't have peace until the day she died.  I saw how her fear and pain tortured her and drove her to punish herself her whole life long.

This is the real reason this show is poignant for me.

My mother did not torture herself because she was gay, she did so because she was feared.  So feared that she became, over time, the person people feared.  She believed the lies.

I might have told her once how proud I was of her.  I am sad that I will never again have that opportunity.  But I did learn from my mother that fearing the unknown and resorting to hate and judgment of things you do not understand has horrible consequences.

The hard thing is to accept yourself.  It is made harder still in the face of judgment. To sit with your fear and and get so comfortable with it that you do not allow it control, that is the challenge.  The hard thing is to love unconditionally.  War is easy.  Hate is easy.  Love is real work.

The New Normal is a show about two gay men who hire a surrogate to have a baby for them. It is about finding love and kinship in people you might not agree with.  It is about the true work of finding common ground.

It would be great if this were the New Normal.  I think we have seen where hate and fear and war has gotten us.

I am definitely ready for a New Normal.  

Personal Responsibility

It has been a long time since I last posted, I know.  The political season is upon us and I have been swept up in the conventions and the speeches and the pros and cons of each "side" of the debate.  Of course, for me, there is no debate.  It comes down to empathy.  Romney seems to have none.  That is all I need to know.

On another note, I was speaking to a friend of mine the other day about this blog, and he mentioned that he liked the personal responsibility angle I am going for in my posts, so I thought I would expand on this theme and tell you, if you are interested, what I have done in my own life to be more responsible for myself and my life to this point.

• I have moved to a place which makes me happy every day.  The climate and environment is stunning to me and it impresses me on a daily basis.
• I live in a way where I don't really need a car.  I can walk to work, to the store, to almost anyplace I need to in the town that I live in.  If I need to go somewhere else, I usually take the train.
• I work every day on not telling people who I think they should be.
• I work for a place I believe in.  I work at the local university in the Chemistry department.  I am not a chemist, but, I believe in improving ones self through whatever endeavors one deems worthy.  In my job, which is not at all glamorous, I help people do that every day.  It also makes me happy to know that I am not part of an organization which is doing harm to the world or its inhabitants.
• I shop local.  With the exception of a handful of items in my home, I have purchased everything locally.  I almost exclusively buy second-hand clothes.  (Not underwear or socks, but everything else)
• I buy local, whole food almost exclusively, and buy the bulk of my food at my local Co-op.  I know my money goes further within my community, and that is where I like to distribute it.
• I only bank at credit unions. I do not put my money in big banks, ever.
• I am moving to an all-cash operating budget for my personal life.
• I live near people whom I love unconditionally.  This is a big one.  
• I live a maker's life.  I realized not long ago that I need very little to be happy.  One of the things that adds greatly to my happiness is being able to make things.  Going through the problem-solving process in a new endeavor challenges me in a way that makes me know I am alive.  
• I do yoga.  Yoga quiets my mind and feeds me on a level that nothing else does.
• I meditate.  This has helped me in ways that I cannot express except to say that I could never have discovered the part of me I am cultivating through this practice.

That's about it.  I know it's not for everyone, but, it does help me to know that I need relatively little to be happy, and it makes me proud to know that I was able to give it to myself in order to be so.

Childhood Heroes

There goes my hero.

It is a bitter time.  We are fighting each other over politics, over abortion, over rape.  We are name calling and relegating each other into "absolutes".

It is a fallacy, of course.  None of us are who we claim to be, none of us are who we are accused of being.

There are no sides but the ones we create in our minds.  Unfortunately, those divide us perfectly.

But it doesn't matter who you are, who you are going to vote for, whether or not you are for the death penalty, abortion, or the occupation in Afghanistan.  If you ever had the experience of watching Walter Payton run for the goal line, of having a profound appreciation for what that man could do, we are kin.

Is it silly to be writing about football at a time like this?  Maybe.  It might also be the best time.  Walter Payton was the first human being to teach me how great I could be.  He was small but he was the best out there.  He gave me hope.  Watching him run gave me hope.

Our heroes teach us how great we can all be.  Not because of what they do, but what they inspire in us.  We all know greatness when we see it.  Greatness is not ethnicity, or gender or politic.  Greatness is taking what you have and doing your very best, in spite of apparent weakness, obstacle, or threat.  Greatness is human, and we are all that.

When we put each other down in anger, we are failing ourselves and each other.  We are shutting the door on opportunity.  We are shutting the door on greatness.  We will lose ourselves this way.

It is time for all of us to be great, in spite of ourselves.  Time to rise above our obstacles and weakness and fears and be strong for ourselves and for each other.  It is time for us all, finally, to be human.

Identity

I invited a guest blogger to write today's post.  Gary Scott is a very old friend who just happens to be a writer and a stay-at-home Dad.  I have known him to be a thoughtful and intelligent person as well as a skilled writer.  It is my honor to have him write for my blog.  As always, feedback is most welcome:

For almost eleven years I’ve been a stay-at-home dad/homemaker while my lovely wife makes all the money for our family. We’re not the first spouses to switch traditional roles, and although it is not commonplace, neither is it uncommon, but it works for us. Staying home and raising the kids was something I wanted to do, and my wife had more ambition and interest in a career.

When Sarah asked me to write a post for her blog about this, I floundered for a few days. I discovered I really didn’t have anything specific to say about my stay-at-home dadness. Instead, I found myself thinking about identity in general.

In all the years, I’ve only come across one person who has any issue with my stay-at-home status. He’s a good friend, and our families get together often. A good chunk of his identity comes from being a provider, though. He’s the head of the family; he’s the man. And he’s damn good at it. His attitude toward my situation is: Seems to work for you guys, but I don’t get it.

If plied with alcohol and pressed on the issue, he will say that he finds me a bit emasculated. I’m okay with that; I find it amusing. I’ve spent a lot of my life getting to know myself, watching my thoughts, observing my attitudes, and I can boil down every little (and big) flawed thing in myself, others, and the systems of the world to one thing: identity.

We define ourselves. It is what we as humans do. To keep it simple, I think of identity as being derived from two venues. In the first, we define ourselves against an exterior context. We compare ourselves to others.

Obviously, my stay-at-home choice does not reflect back and bolster my buddy’s choice. Any insecurity he has about his identity will manifest as him diminishing me so that he can feel confident about his choice. For my part, when I compare myself to him I can feel more progressive, more mature, and thus superior. But wait, how mature is that? I was doing fine until the superior thing. Thus begins one of a thousand conversations I’ve had with myself where my Escher-like logic allows me to come out on top, regardless.

The second venue is all interior. It’s about doing the hard, slippery work of actually looking at myself. When I take stock what I see is my own pettiness. I’m self-righteous and hypocritical. It’s not pretty.

What I find interesting about this is that there is nothing wrong with being flawed. It’s so very human of us. What I’ve come to find – and this is still a work in progress – is that my flaws are my greatest asset because whenever I look at myself with an honest eye and acknowledge my flaws, what I find is that I have more compassion for others. It’s been my flaws and the process of pulling them one by one from the shadow of my identities that has been the hard and rewarding act. It’s no fun to be humbled. In general, it sucks. It is way more satisfying to see the person across from me and feel just a wee bit superior (about anything – take your pick). I love doing that. It’s easier than breathing. But when I tire of the game and take on the private work, I’m better for it.

This quiet confession to myself is a rare, bold act that allows me to feast on my hypocrisy. When I do this, everyone around me seems to get a little more room then, a wider berth to operate within. That’s where I find compassion. When I pull myself off other people, that’s where I find respite from comparison. From identity. That’s where I find peace.

The irony of all this is that I don’t trust anyone who talks about these sorts of things unless I’ve seen them act when they think no one’s watching. (I’ve seen me when no one’s watching, so it’s a gamble on your part that you’ve even read this far.) Because of that, I feel suspect at having shared anything at all. The quiet approach isn’t so quiet when you start talking about it.

Shake the Dust. The One I Watch When I Need It.

The Tendency to want to "Help"

I grew up analyzing myself.

My parents were both social workers.  When they divorced, they each married social workers.

It is from experience that I can tell you that people who go into the field of social work do so because they want to help others.  It is a really good way to distract them from the real problem, which most commonly is located between their ears.

Yes, most social workers, if they are any good at what they do, are crazy.  They couldn't be helpful if they weren't.  They have to know what it is like to deal with the shit you are dealing with in order to help you.

My parents, and the people they married, all of them, were crazy in one way or another.

So, what's the point?  The point is this, quite simply:  Don't worry about other people.  Improve yourself.  Don't worry about what others are doing, how misguided they are, how wrong they are.  If you can, just try and take care of yourself.

Sound easy?  If it were, I think more people would be doing it.