Voices from the Beyond


Today my friend M. called.  He lives in Oregon, and we spent a week together doing a workshop in like, 2009?  2010?.  He reminded me of my friend Steve, who I loved like a brother, and who disappeared from my life and community.  I told M. about this, and he said he felt an instant kinship with me.  He offered, I think, to be my new brother.

Anyhow, one week together at a workshop in Arizona, not even in the same group, and we still talk every couple months.  No awkwardness, just a jump right back into what’s really going on at the center of our lives.

I am so grateful for this.

So this morning, getting ready to go assist at Tristan Binns’ Iyengar Ropes class, then to the gym, then to meditation practice group, I just rest in one moment of utter gratitude.

I’ve adopted and been adopted by so many surrogate brothers.  I love the men in my life, their tenderness and the ways they secretly or not so secretly long for a safe place to land.  I hope, always, to be that place.  For me, being a feminist is somehow linked to this sister/brother thing that I had to break to learn how to really do.  I fight for my voice as a woman in a world that doesn’t always want to hear me.  And I listen to the men in my life, who are often terrified to speak.

And today, a day of yoga and Buddhism, I am grateful for all of it.  For my friend M., and my partner, the boy-girl one that she is, blurring all gender lines, teaching me that we can only define ourselves, and hope for a witness.

When I am open enough and wise enough to give this, I am grateful for everything.

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