Politics Schmalitics

I am an old school militant and I firmly hold to the belief that true power can only be achieved by taking to the streets.  Many times I have joked to my friends that I am so far to the left of the political spectrum I have fallen of the edge. In reality, it is actually true.  

I have not always been a militant though.  When I was younger, much younger, I was a liberal Democrat, loyal to my party.  I worked on a congressional campaign  and was very vocal about the issues of the day.  The transition from being a Democrat to my party of choice was seemingly gradual.  In hindsight, I do believe though that the fertile ground for my militancy was always there.  Much like a rock that is nestled amongst the fallen branches and ferns on the forest floor.  One that is just existing, waiting for the moss to slowly creep over it until the rock becomes one with the forest floor.  I also know in hindsight that this fertile ground is rooted in my insane childhood experiences, ones that predisposed me to fling myself at every injustice I perceived.  There were a great many years when I consistently donned my shining armour, mounted my horse, and rode off into battle.  I fought for the greater good, for the benefit of my friends, for things that appalled me, and for things that were near and dear to my heart.  I marched in the streets, walked down candle lit thoroughfares, fought behind the scenes, flinging myself into very battle that came my way until I was literally exhausted beyond reason.  The turning point was an epiphany I had in my late 40's.  An epiphany that was to change my life in ways I could not very have understood at the time.  My whole world was essentially turned inside out and upside down.  The resulting work I have done over the past 5 years has helped me to understand that much of my donning of armour was in reality rooted in my deep need to save myself.   I also came to understand that before my epiphany, I identified with everyone and everything that was in danger, whether it was real or perceived.  In a very complicated way I internally took it all on as if it I myself was in grave danger of losing my very life.  Things have changed now and my very different.  This is not to say that I no longer struggle with my issues.  I do, and often.   The difference is now I know why. 

A Day and A Night

This period of my life seems to be one of great change.  I have been and continue to be profoundly challenged in ways that I could not have imagined were even possible just months ago.  This is not to say I am complaining.  I'm not.  I find, laying within these challenges, self awareness at depths I have previously never known.  Though I have to say looking at myself, with the proverbial warts and all, is rather disconcerting on the best of days.  

I have never been very fond of looking too closely at myself, whether it be in the mirror in my bathroom or the mirror of someone else's eyes.  This may be why there has never really been a very good photograph taken of me.  Yes, there have been some that I and others have liked, but generally when I am photographed I tend to come out looking like a cross between a mannequin and a deer caught in headlights.  Especially if I am posing for it.  I definitely feel that there are other issues influencing this outcome and as traumatic as they may have been,  I still feel that it is my inability to look squarely at myself that is the root cause of these unflattering pictures.  

I took a photography class while in college as one of my two "out of major" art classes.  I remember the teacher pulling me aside about half way through the semester.  She was quite concerned for my welfare.  I didn't understand at the start of our little talk why she felt it necessary to intrude into my private life.  After all she was just my photography teacher for the a couple of semesters and that was it.  I would probably never even see her again.   It was about half way through our talk that I started to catch on.   She began to explain the significance of my subject matter and how it was very telling about who I was on the inside.  In every one of my pictures she seemed to see things that I had submerged, denied, and generally ran from for the whole of my adult life.  "A photo never lies."  An adage that is so often said, but in my case was all too true.  I started looking at things differently after that; at art, at photography, and even at drawings, trying to glean what it was she was trying to say.   In hindsight that was probably a good choice on my part since I was an Art History major.  Have to say too I got some really good essays out of this new point of view.  What I didn't get was the ability to see myself more clearly.  As a matter of fact I turned this on it's head and began trying to figure out how to, shall we say, close this gaping loop hole, into my inner self.  Whether I was successful is a matter of debate.  I believed I was; and for many years too.

This is why I am being challenged so deeply these days.  Lately, my layers of denial that were so evident in those photographs all those years ago, are seemingly being stripped away at a quickening pace and for once I'm glad of it.  But believe me when I say, it is not all kittens chasing butterflies in the meadow; by any stretch of the imagination.  It is hard, grueling, and often very very painful.  The benefits though are tremendous because I am now seeing myself more clearly and honestly then I ever have before.  

I look forward now to those moments when I am being photographed.  Mostly because I am anxious to see if there are any perceptible change that the picture may reveal about my life and my progress.   And yes, admittedly, most of the photographs taken of me still suck big time.  But that's fine too because I'm not longing for sea changes.  I'm just looking for a little bit more of me sticking out around the edges, peaking out bright eyed at the beautiful world from the other side of someone else's camera lens.

Musings over coffee

I've been thinking about starting a blog for some time now.  Maybe it is the writer in me or even the gardener who's wanting to speak out.   Or just the little boy deep down inside who is now more then ever finding his voice amongst the din of very day life.  No matter.  The reasons are not really important.  The fact I have started is.

I went to see "Where the Wild Things Are" last night with my honey, Dino.  He suggested it yesterday while we were having lunch.  It's a movie based on a children's book published in 1963. I had never even heard of the book.  Not surprising really.  I missed out on a lot during my insane childhood.   Anyways, the movie was so beautiful and symbolic for so many reasons. It's a wonderfully visual story about love, loss, abandonment, rejection, pain, and finally rebirth.   I found myself tearing up many times; something I do quite frequently these days. This is not surprising either.  Beautiful things, scary things, meaningful things. They all seems to set me off.  I'm actually proud of that fact though.   I am feeling my emotions in a more integral way each and every day.  Something that is amazing to me in and of itself,  even earth shattering. Admittedly, there were many years when I just didn't feel at all.  Couldn't really.  But I'll probably save that for a future posting; or maybe not.

As Dino and I walked home around 2a we talked about the symbolism of Wild Things and our impressions of it.  It was quite an incredible conversation.  Maybe it was because it was such a warm and muggy night; so unlike a typical San Francisco one.  Or maybe it was because the weather added an element to our conversation that seemed to jump right off the screen.  Or maybe it was because Dino and I connect at such a deep level.  I'm not quite sure; but by the time we got home I was existing in a place that was seemingly rooted in love, serenity, and exquisite groundedness.  You know that feeling, it's the one you feel when you're wrapped in your favorite blanket, the one that has the distinct smell of love; while you're sitting in your favorite place; surrounded by all of things that mean everything to you.  I laid on floor staring up at the ceiling for what seemed like an hour while Dino worked on the computer.  I love those rare moments in life when all is right and nothing can seemingly hurt you.   And that was in the end what I loved about Wild Things.  It is all about that journey, the one that takes us to that place deep inside that we integrally know as home.