branches up, roots down

“For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace .” Barack Hussein Obama, from his Inaugural Speech The power of these particular lines continue to resonate with me. It is these lines that have been most marveled at between the four walls of my therapy room. Why? With these words, Obama opened the door to an enormous group of Americans who have been not only disenfranchised, but have been rendered downright inv...

Last night, as I was watching the television coverage of the festivities in Washington, I found myself sobbing yet one more time. How many times in a day can the heart break open, releasing cynicism, letting in joy? I turned the television off and cried a good long time after witnessing Joe Biden quote a line from a poem of the poet Seamus Heaney . As if life wasn't good enough, it turns out our Vice President is the kind of guy who quotes Irish poets. Brigid is pleased. She can't wait until her feast day to have the whole poem shared..so I'll do that right now. What poem will I find for February 2 nd ? Doubletake Human beings suffer, they torture one another, they get hurt and get hard. No poem or play or song can fully right a wrong inflicted and endured. The innocent in gaols beat on their bars together. A hunger-stri...

I love the tradition of poetry being read at inaugurations. Words are potent, are powerful. They give shape to our thoughts and sensations, they change our consciousness with complex simplicity. Poetry is the mindful/soulful use of words and images. Wasn't this morning poetry itself? This moning there was an ocean of words and images, coming in waves that brought relentless tears. Poetry was part of today. Today was and is poetry. My family, the cats, the downstair's neighbor and his dog all gathered around our television to bear witness to the change of power. The warm sun of San Francisco streamed in the window, yet we yearned towards the exhilarating cold of Washington. I know that in the future, I will remember feeling and seeing my breath in icy crystals, although the truth is that the only air made visible was the steam rising from my hot coffee. Nevertheless, I know I will remember us all as one, in the cold sharp sparkle of our capitol, cheering for the promissory n...

Yes, I'm back in the blogosphere. It was great to take time out, to slowly stop writing blogs in my head, to free psychic space for internal processing of the big changes at hand. For several weeks now I've stayed, for the most part, off the internet. I've attempted to stay simply dialed down to the home and work front. And, it's been good. I've needed to keep it simple, because right now, things are really complex. I'm in the business of change, being a therapist and all. Personal transformations are challenging enough, but when we all together are riding a wave of economic, environmental and social change...well, that has me grounding and doing mindful breathing pretty much on an hourly basis. Some of my friends and clients have lost considerable amounts of money. Some have been laid off and more are dreading upcoming "re-orgs" at their work. Which translates into more lay-offs. Friends in Portland were snowbound at home for days in December. Here...

My son spent his summer rising at 5am to get to football practice by 6am. When September came, he went to practice every weekday afternoon until 6pm and sometimes on Saturday mornings as well. Thanksgiving has always been a favorite holiday for him. He usually goes with his father to Oregon and hangs out with beloved cousins. This Thanksgiving, he stayed home. Alone. His team had made the championship for the first time in forty years, and even on Thanksgiving morning, they were on the field, practicing. I watched all this with parental wonder. I don’t get sports, period. I spent most of my P.E. hours in high school feigning cramps, and I associate football especially with a whole bunch of things I am against. Like running into people and hurting them. I went to his games when he was a freshman and sophomore, patiently waiting for this reactionary phase of being raised by a Pagan - activist - therapist - artist - mom to be over. I imagined that by junior year he might find t...

The arc of the moral universe is long, But it bends toward justice. -Abolitionist Theodore Parker, c. 1850's I slept away the holiday visit to my spouse's family in Philadelphia . I managed to stay awake for Thanksgiving and the day afterward, but then I surrendered to the fierce cold I'd been battling and took to my bed. My hotel room bed, that is. It would have been surreal in the best of health, this visit to new "in-laws" who clearly aren't anywhere close to accepting this as true. Homophobia is as potent in its silences as it in its taunts. Spending two of the four days sleeping tipped it over into pure dream time. There was genius in the timing of the cold, as it excused me from half of the family get-togethers. I arose from my fever dreams just in time to participate in packing up and going home. My dreams in Philadelphia were full of phantoms of two United States of America . One is a place of doublespeak and lies, a nightmare in a ho...

Last night, as my spouse and I were driving across the city to go to my son's football game, we passed city hall. It was bathed in blue light. We'd never seen this before, and both wondered what it meant. To me, it looked like our city hall was lit with the blue fire I learned way back when to cast circles with, the blue fire of magic. It felt strange, it felt out of the ordinary, it felt a little weird. Magic can be like that. Today I will be getting on my bike and riding over to city hall to take part in standing up for my unalienable rights with queers and our allies across the country. I know now why the city hall was bathed in blue light. It is the blue light of transformation. It is the blue light of magic. And it is spreading.