Concealment

In a room without windows
dissected by a curtain - concealing
a woman with a story
not unlike my own
yet I crave separation

The clock pushes through time
air is thick and progress
is in short supply
freely given information has suffered extinction
while I stared at a black television screen
waiting for answers that were not mine to have

Believe in Me, Cause I Don't Believe in Anything

Recently I have spent more time with medical professionals than I would care to and much more than I would care to admit. Something has gone wrong inside me and until now, I've desperately sought a cure. Perhaps this perception is less than accurate, perhaps I still seek a cure.

I was baptized Lutheran. I don't recall a time in my life when we went to church with any regularity. I cannot even remember consistently attending on holidays. My mother believes in God, but never discussed it much.

My parents used to tell me that when I was quite small, maybe around the age of two or three, we would go to church and I would turn to face the people behind me and snort like a pig. The pastor would stop his sermon to ask a nice black woman (the only black woman I knew, maybe one of 20 who lived in my hometown) who was somehow affiliated with the church to escort me downstairs and out of earshot. I always pictured the pastor doing this in a loving and comical way, but maybe he was annoyed. Perhaps it doesn't matter.

I treasured this story, of which I was the star of the show. I like to think its a natural talent to so captivate an audience. From this story I've subconsciously carried around 2 ideas that I held to be viciously true: A.) As a small child I was completely adorable and B.) Church was not the place for me.

I think middle school is a treacherous for anyone. I've always thought it was worse for me. Perhaps this is true or just a sign of my youth. I've yet to abandon my desire to be unique. I felt more unique that year than any other I've experienced. Strained relations with my peers crushed much of who I had been before then and are still blamed for who I have become.

I've always been a solutions oriented person. So in an effort to resolve the growing dissonance in my life at that time (as well as having heard that it was the scholarly thing to do) I started reading the Bible. My mother bought me my own study bible. It was covered in geometric symmetrical silver holograms with bubbly letters on the front and a purple border. It was all very Jesus Christ Superstar.

I wanted so desperately to believe. I might as well have highlighted the whole book because all that is left now is a few margins without notes. I memorized passages and created my own complex theory as to why the existence of God cannot be proven. My parents arranged for private confirmation classes with the same pastor whom I had interrupted as a wee piglet.

During one of my classes I asked a question about evolution and he explained to me that he believes the dinosaurs were killed in The Flood (you know the one). I countered with, "But I thought Noah was supposed to take 2 of everything?" He said, "The bible is not a factual history book, it is the story of God." We didn't meet again after that, though I don't recall why.

I found the God in the Bible to be wrathful and dis-compassionate. I decided that if this was the one true God, I wanted nothing to do with him. I was lacking the relief I was convinced I should have been feeling from faith in God. Furthermore, his followers seemed blind to reality. I knew many Christians who despite not reading the Bible, pledged their lives to this god. I became an avid atheist believing that religion was designed to control people and used as a tool of war. I thought myself quite clever and progressive.

When I came out I heard about a local church that was "open and affirming". Desperate to meet other gay people I dragged my mom to church. I fell head over heels for a girl that day. After months of pursuit she would be my first real kiss (I try not to think about the times I kissed men) only to tell me that she was sorry she'd mislead me and didn't mean for it to happen.

At any rate she was reason enough to continue attending church. The people were overwhelmingly welcoming and the pastor was very open and accessible for the kind of complex conversations I needed, of which we had many. The first time she said, "Jesus loves you" I abandoned ship.

When fall term started I heard that the local synagogue had a lesbian Rabbi. I could not believe that any religion was permitting "the gays" in their places of worship, let alone lead them. I decided to check it out for myself. I felt like I was going to vomit as I wanted for the service to start. I was afraid by entering such a temple God was more likely to notice I'd gone gay, even though I remained adamant that he did not exist.

She was breathtakingly beautiful and radiated confidence and inner peace. That was all the reason I needed to convert. I met with her privately to discuss this plan and figure out how to become a Jew. I expected her to be as excited as Christians were to increase their numbers. Instead she said:

You are more than welcome to pursue this plan if this is what is in your heart. But let me say this, faith is a mountain in which there are many paths to the summit, the views differ from each path but none is greater than the other. I encourage you to take the path you were born into but support you if you choose to find your own way.

I was nineteen at the time. I spent the next few years being comforted by the knowledge that I had the freedom to choose my path. So soothing did I find this idea that soon I was so comfortable I stopped moving at all. Surrounded by so many trees I forgot the mountain beneath my feet even existed. As much as I cling to the idea that I am not in need of faith, the mountain remains.

Six years later, the sun is setting on the well worn grass I've been pacing. I've resided here so long that all the nourishment is depleted from the land. For awhile the familiarity and shelter of the trees has kept me here but the knowledge that staying will mean starvation is ever growing as is my need for thinner air.

The trouble with medical professionals, spiritual leaders and myself is that we are unavoidably human and consequently possess such a small glimpse of the knowledge the world contains and even less of its wisdom. I fear humanity alone is unable to cure me and so I seek higher ground currently in possession of only a faulty inner compass and misconceived life experiences.

Reinvesting Bonds

I grew up in a town named Superior, WI. Population: 26,625. The tag line was "Superior overlooks Duluth." Though, I never found it to be funny, and literally the opposite is true. As Wisconsin is known for its ability to produce cheese and serial killers, and as Superior is most known for its bars (we have more bars than churches) and its brothels, when people ask, I tell them I'm from Minnesota. Though to be clear, I did live in Minnesota for a year before moving here.


Growing up in a town where people leave when they graduate (if they manage to graduate) and return to retire leaves a teenager with little to do but drink and go hunting. I did neither. Yet, I remember home (in my memory I recall it as being Minnesota) with nothing but fondness. I overlook the extreme weather and see only lakes. I overlook the temperature of those lakes, which prevented me from swimming, and see only scenery. I overlook the snow covering that scenery and remember long since annulled friendships, long since abandoned education and a music scene, that despite opportunity, I simply did not engage in.

I have been telling myself since our reluctant move to WA that, given the opportunity, we would rush home in a heartbeat. I have been resenting this place since the moment we arrived. The culture here is SO different. "Minnesota Nice" is a real thing, and it does extend to the NW part of Wisconsin.

I tend to be lonely here. I feel out of touch with the festivals that mark the seasons. I hear about most of them once they've passed. When family comes to visit, I don't know where to take them. I find most of the "attractions" in this state to be less than attractive. And yet, I've realized that I also tended to be lonely back home. I never went to the festivals, even though I was well aware of when they were. I've never been a fan of tourist attractions.

It turns out, given the opportunity, I would not leave.

I love the life we've made for ourselves here. We have few friends, but they are outstanding people. I love my job, its insanely challenging on every level, but I'm addicted. I dislike the house we live in, its a totally piece of shit, but its become home. Everything I've ever wanted, with the exception of a massive amount of money, I have found here.

So, I'm settling into my surroundings. Withdrawing my heart from the Midwest and reinvesting it here in a snooty little town, where people don't look you in the eye, strangers don't say "Hello" and police don't assist you with a broken down vehicle, but instead write you a ticket, people order their coffee in paragraph form, and there is a helmet law, not just for motorcyclists, but also for bicyclists, because, you know, I never really liked talking to strangers, eye contact is far too intimate for me, coffee should be regarded as the art form that it is and if I ever hit a biker, I'd like for them to live long enough to sue me. I would still prefer assistance with my car, over tickets however.

Sure, it seems like this post is all about me. In fact, it was inspired because one of our few friends has decided that she needs to uproot and replant in her home town. Its a decision I fully support. I admire her courage. But she will be deeply missed. We plan on spending some time together tomorrow. A little play date between our families. Our son said he wasn't really interested. After explaining that our friends would be moving to another state we received a very unexpected and protested "WHY?" He quickly changed the topic with a "I don't want to talk about this anymore" and began crying over our dog who passed away a few months ago. I admire the free way in which his feelings flow and empathize with how jumbled up his emotions are. As Ani DiFranco would say, "We never see things change, we only see them ending."

So now I must address my own defects of character. No longer will it be acceptable to myself to simply justify consequences with "I'm just not good at staying in touch". No longer can I say, "I never chose to move here" because in this moment, I choose to stay.