“Whatever arises is fresh, the essence of realization…”
(line from Shambhala lineage chant)
I look out over the back yard from
the windows above, and I see space: whiteness expanding our small urban field,
melding into the white and blue garage, and blue sky beyond. It is easier from
this high up to not see where rabbits have run in circles, or shat in the snow
making small minefields, to not to see the still green fallen willow leaves, or
patches where grass bleeds through.
And so, though I don’t mean to back
into a metaphor for looking back at the end of the year, I have. It is easier
now, at the end of December, either see the whole year as clear and white and
clean and destined, or as muck and confusion and mud. The fact is, it was, as is
life, both.
This year Ilana changed her gender
marker on all of her legal paperwork. She got her regular ID done last year,
but this year we needed her passport. We got her social security, then birth
certificate, then passport, changed from male to female. I actually felt some
discomfort in changing her birth certificate, a line of thinking in my subconscious
like, “But you were born male-bodied?” I wanted to say something and I never
did. I understood/understand why it is needed for legalities, bureaucracy, and
still I find it odd. If only they could issue a re-birth certificate, or note a
change of gender on the birth certificate. Writing this, I am realizing it is
more than the paper - it feels like changing her birth certificate erases a lot
of her life, parts I can’t and don’t want to erase, and I know she doesn’t
either
How does the birth certificate relate as a
symbol to our relationship? It is tricky territory. I think the birth
certificate has been emotionally bound until now, to me holding onto some of
her maleness. Realizing this, I can talk to her about it with more curiosity
about how she feels, and less aggression needing my experience to be
acknowledged.
This is last line is a lot of how this
last year went: seeing through the veils of righteousness, again and again, so
I can self-liberate and stop hoping others will hurt or trigger me less, or acknowledge
me more.
A lot of this means looking at where I get in
my own way. “Connecting the dots,” was my personal slogan for the year, related
to my intention word: connect. What this meant a lot of the time was trying to
see cause and effect. For instance, working through panic and martyrdom to be
able to be present for difficult conversations, not wanting either Ilana or I
to be fixed. Once I started uncoupling my emotions from logistics around things
like finances and fitness, I began to find unprecedented peace and an ability
to tolerate discomfort without worry.
It has been miraculous, and also very, very
hard work: a lot of EMDR, Karuna Training, ngondro, neurokinesis, friends,
writing, meditation…All of these play integral parts.
The main
thing I learned about connecting, what I feel I really grokked, is that
connection has to be active. It is not passive. When I disconnect from others,
in order to decrease stimulation, I risk disconnecting from myself. I have to
find my true motivation: if I want to truly rest and relax, I have to stay
connected to myself, otherwise I just numb out. Discerning this goes a long way
in helping me get what I really need from me, from Ilana, from teaching, from
life.
***
When the
sun is shining on the backyard for a few hours in the afternoon, I can better
see the pockmarked texture of the no-longer-fresh flakes piled in space. I like
this angle; it’s a pure and clear perspective of just how complex and messy
things really are. And beautiful. Really. Truly.
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