Living Our Authentic Selves

As a school age child, I knew I was different.  I used tools with the “wrong hand,” was called

sinister, lefty and special by teachers and other students.  Some in authority even tried to force

me to use my right hand instead. One teacher would switch my pencil to my right hand when

she walked by my desk.  I learned to never write until her back was to me and relied on other

students to distract her attention to finish my work. Or I would hold a pencil upright in my right

hand and put a second one up my sleeve of my left hand to complete work.  There were two of

us who were lefties and we had one left handed desk that had been retrofitted for an older

student. Could another be crafted for our mutual comfort? No, that would be wasteful, we were told. It wouldn’t serve the best needs of the greatest number of students.  It would be special treatment for just a few people. It was often frustrating when we did art. The left handed scissors were dull and I found that the right handed scissors were fine, if held upside down. I made do with the resources available, but was not given any tools to assist in my adjustment.  I eventually became ambidextrous in several tasks just to make fewer issues and draw less attention to myself. I knew that to try to become a full righty was just not in my makeup. In order to engage my brain, skills, and neuro transmitters correctly, I had to use my left hand.  

It wasn’t a choice, or something I was exploring to see how it fit.  It was how my brain and neurons
were wired. I could no sooner change the hand I utilized in writing than I could change my skin tone,
or eye color.  It was a distinct part of my being and identity. I identify as a left handed person and no
amount of rules, restriction, bullying or descrimination was going to change that.  My family didn’t see
a need to advocate on my behalf. It was just something we had to get used to and deal with as subtly
as possible to not make waves.  

I’m talking about being left-handed in the 1970s in a private school. Insert trans-gender for left-handed to see what this is like for people who identify as other than the sex their biology appears to determine. Read this as someone forced to appear, dress and act as something different than their true self. Read this as someone literally dying to live as their true indentity against all costs, because the frustration of being forced to live against the grain often results in suicide attempts by transgender youth. Ostracism by family, bullying by peers, a lack of understanding and feeling it's a phase or social experimentation are some of the many forces working against transgender youth. Then society as a whole attempts to deny their right to access a bathroom. Would you want your child or yourself to be subject to that kind of hatred and ignorance?

In the 1990s, I worked in a building that had security-coded single-use bathrooms. One of the other employees in the building was living her true self as a female to satisfy conditions put in place by the medical field to validate hormone pills, injections and other steps that would complete her transformation from male to female appearance. The uproar from other colleagues it caused JUST to give her the CODE for the women's rest room was insane. Wasn't this person going through enough? Who would put on pantyhose and control garments if they weren't FULLY committed? Apparently, we haven't progressed as much as I had hoped.

 A small group of people at our church gathered and engaged in discussion after watching together
The Most Dangerous Year
https://www.amazon.com/Most-Dangerous-Year-Annabelle-Knowlton/dp/B07SCKSGX4/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=the+most+dangerous+year&qid=1571099632&sr=8-1

A movie documenting the path of families supporting transgender school age children. It is
available for about $4 from Amazon Prime and is well worth the cost and time to view the movie. 
Among these were 90yo grandparents with a need to understand and know how to support those in our
midst traversing this road, not by choice or whim, but by the need to live their authentic selves.

The most ironic point for me came when our blind Lieutenant Governor Cyrus Habib was one of the only
politicians with the CLEAR VISION - let that sink in - to recognize that protecting the civil rights of these
children and future transgender persons was clearly equal to protecting ADA rights that he had been
subject to discrimination for due to his blindness.  He also assured my vote for him for as long as he
chooses to run for being on the right side of history in standing up to protect the rights of LGTBQIA -
Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender, Queer, Intersex and Asexual (and any other letters necessary
to be fully inclusive) as a commitment, not due to politics, but because it is an issue of moral integrity.

Be educated, be aware of signature gathering efforts to eliminate the rights of others.
Be open to the plight of others who fight for rights that in no way threaten your own.
Be on the RIGHT side of History.

Circuits Round the Sun - Opportunities for Experience

Life is all about experiences and how those experiences mold you to relate to the rest of the world.  Chosen experiences this week were all about self care, self-awareness, mindfulness and creating space for calm in a too busy world.  In the last year, it has become a goal to pay more attention to self-care, learn to hold space for others without projecting my agenda and to seize opportunities to explore areas I would normally pass by in the course of being a slave to the schedule.  Be open to change, opportunity and experience peace in the day to day.

On Saturday, my day was spent at a workshop making prayer labyrinth mats.  We learned the history, design elements, themes and meditative prayers for walking labyrinths.  We all shared locations of truly exceptional labyrinths encountered in the world - there is a winery in Eugene OR with a lavender labyrinth that is now on my bucket list - and then commenced planning to complete our own small scale labyrinths.  It was an exercise in patience, faith and a moving meditation exercise in and of itself.  I thought I had chosen a simple pattern... not so much.  But in the end, was the only participant with a completed project.  Others had their layout penciled in and we brainstormed ways to complete the layout with glued on embellishments, decorative stitching, painting the labyrinth design as a background base for a painting in the foreground and other expressions of personal preference.  The uniting of women from all walks of life, ages, professions, faith bases and intentions was as much of an education as the workshop itself.

The plan was to explore the grounds of the priory in Olympia, but weather prevented that plan from occurring, and left it for another opportunity now that I am familiar with the location.

Sunday was spent in my usual and customary worship service with all the trimmings.  Full choral music, instrumental accompaniment, a church full of people who have served on my faith journey for the last 10 years, family, friends and friends I consider as family.  There was potluck coffee hour after the service and the opportunity to share the adventures and challenges of the past week.

Monday, my birthday, brought my mom and a church pal to yoga class and out to lunch for Thai food. We learned that with one modified downward dog move, we stimulate 76 acupressure points of restoration and healing in our bodies and noted that this move needs to happen daily in life. The opportunity to learn what is good for heart, soul, mind and spirit while refreshing and nourishing with well seasoned fresh food was good for all systems.  We visited the back yard of our new home and reveled in the glory of creation in the water fowl, plants and bright blue sky that appeared.

Tuesday presented the opportunity to join a small group in centering prayer.  A passage was shared from Brother Lawrence - a Carmelite monk, and we were given 20 minutes to reflect, hold space and contemplate the passage in our own interpretation.  I had recently learned in yoga that finding your true center of gravity would feel like opening a door and the urge to yawn was a clue that one had found it.  I was able to identify the feeling of center both in mind and body and felt that was enough for one day.  Yes, my mind wandered.  Yes, I had to snap it's leash back to mindful emptiness.  Yes, I utilized some yogic breathing to assist in that endeavor.  But it was all good. 

There is no right or wrong way to center, to pray, to find one's path in the world.  We are all here to help each other.  But the path for one, may not be the right path for all.  Life often feels like a maze where we have made a wrong choice and followed the winding path to somewhere we ultimately did not want to be.  While a labyrinth helps us to discern how far and how fast and what we hope to find when we reach the center and reexamine the path as we exit the labyrinth for what we might do differently next time.