#bringbackourgirls

I have been thinking a lot lately about ways that I do (and sometimes don’t) take responsibility for humanity’s shared humanity.  What I mean is – since posting my observations on the facebook about what I sense as backlash against the #bringbackourgirls campaign, the idea of our shared suffering has been weighing heavy on my mind.  And that brings up the opposite of suffering, which for me in this moment is peace.  Peace of mind, of heart, of body, and those feelings are also shared with humanity as a Whole.  

I was wrestling with the “what more can I do?” busted loop when I stumbled into a card store today and came across a series of beautiful cards by an artist named Kristian Johnson Michels.  The title of the card shown below is called “Iemanja:”

Iemanja – from the Umbranda religion – goddess of rivers and oceans in Nigeria, the goddess resides in the sacred depths of the Ogun River.  Here her devotees espouse an ancient theory of the spirit: water, alive in sound and motion identifies the presence of a goddess.  Her river sculpts the stones leaving them smooth and time resistant.  Smooth stones and rushing water together make a music: the murmur of immortality. 

Nigeria – the homeland of the Yoruba religion, one of many religions to include female deities in their pantheon.  This particular diety or “Orisha,” as they are known in the tradition, manifests as a beautiful brown woman.  Other photos depict her, not as separate from the ocean, but part of the ocean itself:   

...while there are still other fascinating depictions, always a beautiful brown woman in a flowing blue dress. 

Nigeria – the country in Africa where mothers’ hearts are bleeding from the loss of their children, and tortured by thoughts of what their child may be experiencing.  It’s almost too much to bear – this thought – and for me, it’s just a thought.  

 

What more can I do?  I can share what I learn about the ways in which we are more similar than different.  About how so many creation stories share central themes and so must have come from the same “source” and how there is so much beauty in every one of them.  

In this time in history where are we are constantly barraged with images of brutality, of pain, suffering, so much needless suffering, I have to believe that, at our very core, we all want the same thing.  We all want to be free – to live our lives in a way that expresses our own beauty and celebrates our differences as well.  Our differences, not as a threat to any “other,” but in the spirit of the Whole Being greater than the sum of its parts.   

So I spent me birthday in me birthday suit!

I have always loved my birthday.  As early as I can remember (me on my 3rd birthday),   As I grew up, it became symbolic of the ONLY DAY IN THE YEAR where I had license to, in every way, have it “my way.”  Or the highway.  I mean, I’m not bitchy about it – I don’t have to be.  People generally seem to want to treat you well and just really special on your birthday.  It’s sort of like an unwritten birthday code – and each party leaves happy!  Win-win!
my birthday brought a smile to my eyes and a joy in my heart.

So sometime in April of this year, I was thinking about my birthday and feeling like it was a milestone of sorts.  #46 is officially on this side of 50.  Wow.   Staunchly aware of my “middle-aged-ness,” merely in terms of the math.  Odds are – I am more than ½ though this life journey.  And I am feeling a lot of gratitude about getting to #46 and looking forward to having more adventures.  And so – somewhere in all of that excitement, existential pondering, and just plain reverie, I decided that it would be a fine idea I intended to throw myself a party.

What a roller-coaster it’s been!  From the high-highs of visualizing what I wanted it to be, to the low-lows of feeling sad and unimportant when I would receive declines to my invite.  Then – wouldn’t you know it, my party turned out just the way I wanted it.  And I’m never gonna do it again. 

My party was a two-part affair: part #1 was lunch and people watching at the Grand Lake farmer’s market.  Something I love to do so much each weekend, I wanted to share the experience on my special day with friends. 

So, in a mad dash out of the house after finishing final-final preparations, I roll up to the farmers market promptly at 1pm because I wanted to be the first one to my own party.  I’m “old skool” like that.  I set my huuuuuge blanket out at the top of the hill, and then sat down in the upper LH corner by myself.  I sat there for a moment.  I looked around – the hill wasn’t THAT packed with folks – still, I felt really conspicuous and greedy.  I checked in with self as to whether I should fold the blanket in half until of my other peeps came, but ultimately decided “Naw, f*ck being considerate, its MY BIRTHDAY! 

My relatively new friend Philly showed up first.   Philly was probably the best person to show up first at my party, because he doesn't mind sharing some of your pre-party angst for you/with you, and that really takes a load off!  When I sent him to locate some mandarins for me, Joce and Becca came next!  Then Philly returned with yummy fruit and bid us adeiu.  And that made me sad, because I had wanted to introduce him to some of my loved ones.  Waaa.

Then, several other folks came: Sandra and her son Xila, Scot and the Sun Tre!  And the two boys are relatively the same age, so that might be a good hookup.  Then my loved ones Patrick, Rita and Lisa came and snuggled on to my filling-up blanket.  Then my new friend Marina came and gave me some b-day love.  I had some fish tacos for lunch and then my good friend Lisa M. came with her loved one, and the blanket was full.  Around 3pm, a group of us walked to my house for part #2 of my celebration: cake and libations. 

If you are  my facebook friend (and receive my “feed”), you will  know that I went through some stress on day #1 of my birthday week because my house was covered in a layer of dust and grime, some of which just wasn’t going to receive any attention.  

Well, late Friday night, at the 11^th hour, I had to make some decisions about any last-minute cleaning jobs that were likely to happen.  “The Loo,” I finally decided, was what needed the most attention.  This is the room that would see the most use and, so, THIS was where I really needed to shine!

I got real practical and real creative then.  First, the monstrosity of the rusted, dust-covered metal framed corner unit had to be removed.  Not only was it not being used properly, it was also becoming a dumping ground for products/processes I no longer use or are outdated.  Like it’s a rare occasion when I use the benzoyl peroxide …does it really need to be out on display?

And I pared down the products I use daily to two baskets, brought in the toddler table and chair that no longer fits Tre, added some flowers and some chachkis.  I am very proud of my work. As to the rest of the house, not great, but not bad…not bad at all. 

We met my friend Gar on the way to my house – so happy he showed up!  Once at home, several other folks joined us – my old friend (and former d.j. partner) Theresa and her loved one Mark, my neighbors Leslie and Linval, Claire.  And then my other neighbor Lisse came, and it was officially time for cake. The boys joined us for cake - Tres Leches (not to be confused with Tre’s Leches, which has been officially shut-down for several years now) and a vegan chocolate cake.  I managed to eat three pieces, and I know at least one other person (not naming names) who did the same.  #cakecoma #asleepfortwelvestraighthours #ahem.

I was happy, and at the same time, I sensed there were some folks missing who I was really looking forward to seeing: for starters, my newest sister-friend Kim whom I met on BART a few months back and we hadn’t yet spent any time together, but I knew I really wanted her there.  And do you know what – 15 minutes later, there she was with her loved one, on my porch!  And just as I was really settling into a very decent birthday buzz, my dear sister-friend Ali’a showed up, marching up my porch – determined and bearing many gifts: strawberries, bubbly and a live orchid plant.  Oh dear.  The orchid is soooooo lovely, and I am feeling so very sad that it’s just not going to last long.  But Alia just suggests that I enjoy its beauty while I can.  

And then, as I was bursting over with joy at who showed up at my party, my long-long-long-time sister-friend Mia showed up and it was all over.  I was officially verkelmpt (photo shown below). 

It was after 7 when the last folks left – actually, one of them (not naming names) started following ME back up the stairs, before she realized that her loved on was going the other way.  She told me she was “just following her heart.”  I love you, sister!

And I love all of you, even those of you were unable to be there.  Your presence was felt and missed. 

Oh, and the nekkid part?  Today, May the 4^th, the duke and duchess of Dorkdom (that would be will and me) took one of our epic adventure trips, this one up the coast towards Santa Cruz.  This here is a photo from the car of a skydiver.  

First, a stop at Bonnie Doon Beach to shed clothing and let the sun touch our skin.  As we were on our way out, a frenchie-man came over and told us how dangerous it was to sit so close far back (towards the cliff).  Nice of you to tell us on the way out. Preesh.

Then, back in the car, to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk and the roller coaster (don’t be surprised if the photo of my “nip-slip” ends up somewheres on the interwebs), and a caramel apple.  Then off for a sauna, hot tub and final birthday sunnin'' at the Kiva Retreat House.

And, do you know that you can get lots of stuff for free on your birthday if you ask?  I got free cake at Whole Foods, a discount at Kiva and a free dildo at Good Vibrations (wait, everyone got a free dildo yesterday).  Anywhoo, the point is, people want to make you happy on your birthday, and all you have to do is ask.  

And here is what I would ask of all of you: remember to remind your loved ones how much they mean to you, not just on their birthday, but whenever you feel it.  Feeling special is not meant to come just one day (or week, or month) out of the year.  It is an everyday kind of feeling. Make it happen. 

xo

m

My earliest childhood memory: Getting my Sasha doll on my 3rd birthday.

My earliest childhood memory: Getting my Sasha doll on my 3^rd birthday.  

Yep, I still remember this VERY moment: all dressed up in my gypsy-best, looking down lovingly at the brand-new baby doll that was all mine….ALL MINE!  And - she even looked like me!  Well, as near as a generic brown doll with bone straight hair can look like me…it was, after all, 1971.  Nowadays, dolls come in all colors/ethnicities/hair types, and I know one thing for sure:  if I would have popped a baby girl out of these here loins, I would have definitely given her a brown doll.  

One of the most difficult parts of being a trans-racial adoptee is that I often felt like an alien in my own home.  I mean, sure, they were my family, but I cannot help but imagine that one of the ways we come to know we belong is that we see people who look like us.  And I don’t think that we consciously register this, it’s just something that IS and then becomes part of the background.  

I don’t think I would consider this experience to be a “luxury” that I didn’t have and/or that most folks take for granted.  I think it’s more accurate to say that there is a “human experience default” (growing up with one’s biological family) that instills in us our initial sense of belonging.  Absent this default setting, and the potential for mayhem opens up reeeeeeal wide-like.  Absent this default setting, and perhaps you get the "gift" of trying to manage a colossal identity crisis.  Does anyone remember the book “Are you my Mother?”   Well, imagine that the momma bird never comes back.  Yeah, I read and re-read that book, hoping that, somehow - perhaps by some sort of tricky osmosis - my mom would suddenly feel “familyar” to me.  But it never happened.

Now, before you go make a grab for the tiny violin or the tissue box (depending on whether or not you have a heart), it seems as those this history of mine has set me up real well to ask the big questions, like “who am I?”  Starting out as I did, trying to worm into some type of identity (to no avail, obviously…I work it like a chameleon) it’s become a regular practice of mine to drop coats that don’t seem to fit the particular occasion.  And it’s also forced me to try and integrate all of the different “I AM’’s” who have taken up residence in my psyche.  Does anyone else live with “the perfectionist?”  Or how about “the inner critic,” the “nagging mom” or the “know it all.”  Or, one of my favorites: MILF.  And u know it. 

So – here we are – 43 years later and I have finally started meeting my family.  And I don’t just mean my biological family.  I mean the family who I feel in my heart, my soul brothers and sisters, people who I have chosen to love, and who have chosen to love me.  And lots of you will be at my celebration on Saturday and I cannot wait!  And for those of you who cannot be there (or weren’t ‘formally’ invited – we will be at the Grand Lake Farmer’s Market at 1pm if u wanna stop by!) thank you, bless you, I love you. 

-           

      - mo

"NEW WORLD WATER" Part Deux

Since that dreadful evening with my son where i made him cry, we have been talking about this whole water issue and how, rather than worry about something one has very little control over, to take action over what you do control - your own use. 

We also pledged to learn more about the water cycle and water conservation in order to better educate ourselves and others about what is going on in the world.  In that spirit, Tre went straight to the heart of his concern last night and googled "Are we going to run out of water?"  I cringed.

This is the article that came up from the National Geographic titled Are We Running out of Water?

In summary, the glass half full answer is "no."  Since water is cyclical in nature, we have as much water on the planet NOW as we did when the first signs of life appeared on the planet.  However, the issue is that "water is not distributed evenly across the globe and our needs for that water aren't the same everywhere."

Setting aside the whole host of issues that arise from inequitable distribution of/needs for water, the Sun went to bed quite happy that his glass is indeed half full and we will not be running out of water. 

Next up:  the idea of grey water and how we can begin to utilize this in our own lives.

"NEW WORLD WATER"

There are many - myself included - who have speculated that the next world war is not going to be over money, or oil, or religion.  It’s going to be over water.  A resource that none of us can live without. 

The title to this blog entry was “borrowed” from Mos Def, who writes in his song “New World Water:”

Tell your crew use the H2 in wise amounts since
it's the New World Water; and every drop counts
You can laugh and take it as a joke if you wanna
But it don't rain for four weeks some summers
And it's about to get real wild in the half
You be buying Evian just to take a fuckin' bath

For the last few months, the Trester has been extremely concerned about the world running out of water.  This concerns me, because I know only too well how pointless it is (and how harmful it can be) to worry about things that have not happened yet, and may never happen.  It also concerns me because I believe this to be a legitimate issue, warranting proper consideration and attention, and though I don’t want to scare him, I cannot lie to him either.  And so I haven’t exactly worked out the proper response to the question: “mom, will we run out of water in my lifetime?”

In the past, I have said, “I don’t know, Tre, but I really don’t think so,” or offered “I think they (whoever the nebulous ‘they’ are) are working on a machine to convert saltwater into freshwater.”  We have also talked about the water cycle, and if it’s a cycle, well, that would mean it just keeps repeating itself, right?!  

Tonite, however, I was feeling particularly surly, after another day losing the battle with a nasty head cold, then homework, then a nutritional meal within 20 minutes, followed by late t.v. night.  So it’s 9:15p.m. and I am tucking him in and now he wants to discuss the water crisis???  “Tre,” I said, ”I don’t know if we have enough water to last MY lifetime.”

To which he responded by breaking out in loud heart-wrenching sobs.  Never mind that the conversation began with discussing my eminent death, and how upsetting this already is to him.  Now I am actually suggesting that my death is looming ever-closer, the leaky faucet in the bathroom (which he pointed out to me last weekend) an ominous drip-drip-drip reminder that we are sealing our own fate.  

Well.  In the end, because I am indeed Supermom, I managed to patch things up.  And for the time being, we are good.  We have water.  Mom’s ok, dad’s ok, everyone he loves is ok right now.  “And so,” I said, bending down to kiss his check, “for that, we have gratitude.” 30 seconds later the child is snoring, and I say a silent prayer of thanks that he still has the capacity to pick up heavy objects, stumble around with them for a while, and put them back down.  Thank you, baby j.  Thank You.