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.