To you

i fell for you
adore your
body and

well not body
i’ve never seen your body
you don’t post photos of it
but then nor do i
really does anyone

face and

of course all seen
through the filter
of that blessed curse
cursed blessing
that is facebook

you’re not the first
array of flick’ring pixels
I have fallen for

but you’re the one
i can’t kick

facebook “friends”
we always want to put
that “friends” in quotes
then how much more ridiculous
facebook “lovers” or
as here
facebook “beloved”
yet it’s true

this feels like being trapped
in a minnelied
not surprising
facebook works quite well
to confine love
to the minnesang conventions

returning then
to where i started
i sing your praises
heart mind face soul

a heart of courage
and caring
and passion for
the soul work
that is who you are

a mind that leaves me feeling
ignorant and clumsy
by comparison
yet that mind finds pleasure
in our interplay of words
i’m grateful for
noblesse oblige

your face so lovely
so beautiful
so perfect
not by any other’s standard
any other standard
than that it radiates
who you are
i would gaze upon your face forever
to bask in who you are

your soul the flames
deep inside
the forge where beauty is created
from raw ore of words
and raw sweat of your mind’s effort
and raw blood of your heart
and raw tears on your face
alloyed and hammered and tempered
to create that beauty
your gift to the world

i dream of being at your side
of touching once your hand
but the oil on my fingertips
would surely tarnish
the brilliant gleam
that i so cherish

so i shall take my leave
delighting in the ache
of the lump in my throat

may you be well
object of my limerence
and radiate forever
your perfect shining self

A sonnet: “Attempt”


No safety blade; the razor must be straight.
It cuts the best, the fastest: so, most sure.
They say. A kitchen knife cannot be made
to take enough an edge. They say. And more —

The sequence of events important too:
The weaker hand cuts first the stronger one,
That second might the stronger one cut through –
though cut itself – the weaker one. Thus done.

And after that is just to wait while pain,
unbearable at first, diminishes
as it flows out along with crimson stain
until, with all that is, it finishes.

It’s just a gesture, not attempt. They say.
Unless it happens to complete today.

In which I rip a supposedly “Christian” meme a new one

This is such an insidious, disingenuous attack on LGBTQ people that I can hardly control my anger. The statement is all about self-justification and self-defense and self-righteousness; it is not at all about being compassionate or even holy.

Evil meme

It sneaks in the assumption that being gay, or being trans, is an action that people choose. That’s bullshit, and everybody knows it. There is no scientific, medical, or psychological support for such a contention.

This mendacious assertion withholds support for who people ARE, under the intentionally duplicitous guise of withholding support for what people DO.

This is no different from faith-healing quacks who say that God is morally opposed to chemotherapy for cancer, or antibiotics for infections, or analgesics for arthritis. There is no known way to relieve the suffering of being trans other than transitioning to the gender one knows oneself to be. There is no known way to change someone from a gay orientation to a straight one, and the only way to relieve the suffering of being cut off from love is to accept and affirm intimate relationships between people of the same sex.

This is nothing more than the discredited “love the sinner, hate the sin” rejection of LGBTQ people, and it stinks, all the more so because it tries to put a sheen of high-mindedness on that judgmental, punitive belief. But it succeeds no better at dressing up the hatred than lipstick succeeds in hiding the filth of a pig.

Computers hate me

Computers hate me. *sigh*

Well, not all computers. My personal laptop doesn’t hate me really — it loves me as much as its little brain allows it to.

But the computers that I’m surrounded by at work, the ones I’m inundated by at work, the ones that are an ocean of computers on which I am adrift like a sailor clinging to a piece of driftwood in the midst of a Category 5 hurricane — those are the ones that truly hate…. Oh that’s not really fair either. Part of the problem is our co-dependent relationship — they need me to help them think straight, and I need them to help put food on the table — and codependency is just not healthy in any relationship.

And really, I owe them at least a smidgen of compassion, knowing how they’ve been abused and neglected in their previous relationships — just used by whoever showed up, nobody giving them the tender loving care they deserve, all of them walking away chasing the next piece of shiny hardware without so much as a fare-thee-well.

But still.  They’re old enough to know better. They know that it’s wrong to take out their anger about the past on the one who’s trying her best to love and care for them now.

It’s not really hatred, I guess. More like a temper tantrum. Or rather, make that 10 simultaneous temper tantrums today. I’m confident I can get them to settle down and behave in fairly short order. It’s just wearying.

Who knows? Maybe it’s all projection. Maybe what’s going on is that I’m the one who hates them.

Anyone know any good counselors?

Imago Dei, Imago Dust

So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. Gen.1:27

Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being. Gen.2:7

Genesis wastes no time: right there in the first chapter, it tells us what it means to be human. We are the very image of the Holy One, the Creator’s ultimate creation. Surprisingly, though, in the very next chapter Genesis apparently tells us just the opposite: we are dirt.

Which is it?

“In the beginning” and “Adam and Eve” are both part of the popular imagination, but it’s when you first get serious and start actually reading the Bible for yourself that you find that these are not the same story, but two different stories of Creation.

We can thank 19th-century German theologians for rigorously examining, then proclaiming, what many had suspected for a long time: there are two stories because there are two authors.

One author’s view of human nature soars to the heavens: we are holy, almost divine, the image of God; the Creator’s final and highest accomplishment; so filled with goodness that God entrusts to us the caretaking responsibility of everything that God has just created.

In contrast, the other author has a very earthy view of human nature: we’re made of dust; we eat things that aren’t good for us; we are so evil that we blame our wives for our own misbehavior, and even kill our brothers when we feel unloved.

Whether we believe that being human means being high and holy, or that being human means being low and dirty, we have a Bible story to support our conviction. We can argue endlessly over which is the “true” or “correct” understanding of human nature. And many of us do, because many of us hold to one belief or the other when it comes to essential human nature.

But it doesn’t have to be a dichotomy, a choice, an “either-or”. Perhaps the final editors of Genesis intentionally included both stories, believing that sometimes one is true, and sometimes the other. In this view, to be human is to see our nature as dual, a blend, a “both-and”. Sometimes we’re the image of God; sometimes we’re just dust that has learned to breathe. Part of each of us is good; part of each of us is evil.

While this approach allows us to account for both Biblical stories, it is ultimately unsatisfying as an answer to, “What does it mean to be human?” because it is not an answer; it is two separate answers, connected by a decision to choose neither.

I would propose taking yet another step beyond “both-and”: our nature lies in the tension between “image of God” and “image of dust”. Both Creation stories – both images – are necessary to understanding our essential nature. But, instead of elements of a mixture, the two stand as separate, independent poles, and we exist in the space between them. A physical analogy: if the two are weights, we exist in the balance between them. A balance is not either weight, nor is it both one weight and the other. And it is certainly not neither weight. The balance’s existence derives from the weights, yet it is not itself composed of the weights.

In other words, we need both Creation stories to understand what it means to be human, because we need the space between them. We were made, and we live, in the dynamic equilibrium that exists between sacred and profane, good and evil, God and dust.

(Adapted from a paper written for an assignment in my Old Testament course at Louisville Presbyterian Seminary, in the fall of 2008.) 

How would you have me live my life?

I have a question for the authors / scholars / feminist leaders who oppose male-to-female (man-to-woman) transition for people who say they are transgender or transsexual.

How would you have me live my life?

Not what is your theory of gender, not why is transition morally wrong, not what’s wrong with the transgender movement(s), not what are your qualifications, not even what are your feelings about people who say they’re trans.

Just: How would you have me live my life?

I was born with unambigously male anatomy. For as long as I can remember — back to age 4 — I have had a deeply felt sense that I am female on the inside; that my male body notwithstanding, my heart and soul are female; that I was meant to be, or should have been, born a girl — all of these, yet not exactly any of these. I was deeply unhappy, not so much with my circumstances, as with who I was, who I understood myself to be. When I transitioned in 2005-2006, I felt a weight lift from my spirit. I still feel that lightness today. I feel right in a fundamental way.

But how would you have me live my life?

And now that I have transitioned, how should I move through the binary gendered world that is the USA in the early 21st century? Whether we think it should be this way or not, circumstances for women and men are different. There are different restrooms and locker rooms for men and women; there are different clothes; there are different social opportunities; there are different social expectations; there are different job possibilities; there are different safety concerns; there are different options for dating, love, and sex. How should I move through all this, now, 10 years since I changed my name and grew breasts and became known to many people as a woman?

How would you have me live my life?

Not what should I have done; not how should society change; not what should trans people in general do; not what do leading authorities say I should do.

How would you, personally, have me, personally, live my life?