Liquid Dreams.

"Until he extends the circle of his compassion to all living things, man will not himself find peace."

-Albert Schweitzer

Let me tell you about something that I know I am bad at. Love. I can't tell you much about it - but I know that I'm bad at it. I think it is something you have to experience and have to share to describe. And then you've got to battle with the restrictions of language - I hear it transcends words.

Just like lust (though Leonard Cohen is damn close to describing this).

I try my best not to be a smooshy, or sensitive. Its just not in me. I spent a lot of time in high school being immensely emotional as I was dealing with the reality of growing up. And so I have tried to purge myself of so much emotion.

Now when I encounter it, I am paralyzed. Concerned that it will bring back uncontrollable frustrations. Thoughts of suicide. And I never realize that it could completely alter my personage in the opposite direction; that, in some less-than-cliché form, I could be transformed by love. (Note: not Love.)

I have realized in the past weeks that I haven't an ounce of compassion in me.

I have tried to visualize this. If I were turned to liquid, and a chemist thought I was worthy of the effort, I could be distilled into my man different traits. There would be a jug of pride. A couple glasses of jealousy, one more full than the other (of course). A tumbler of anger, with some ice in it just to cool me down. An ounce of compassion.

I wish it were not so.

I have noted that my experience in teaching has made me more conservative. I was recently joking with a former colleague about how some parents should not be allowed to have children because they haven't any idea of how to raise them. Then we continued, saying that some people, particularly those with mental and physical ineptitude, should not be allowed to procreate because their children rarely turn out well.

I had this conversation. And I meant it when I was having it. And it has troubled me ever since.


An ounce of compassion.

I wish it were not so.


I am not the things you think I am.

Under the skin...

"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you."
- Friedrich Nietzsche

I am becoming that which I admire the least; the monster that I detest, that I fight. I look in the mirror and am increasingly this being. I am evermore filled with the things I find most wretched in humanity. I am not the person you see.

Please, forgive me.

Know that I am weak. That I am fallen - broken - stretched out. And that I can do nothing to remove me from the bondage of my existence.

Please, forgive me.

Fearless?

Did I do this?

Well, there has been far too much happening in my life over the past two weeks to properly share in a single post, but let me try and give you a hint of it. I will surely expand on a couple of these things in the coming weeks, so if you're interested in anything that doesn't get adequately covered this time around, expect it in the near future.

First of all, I've got 6/7ths vegetarian; Sunday night meals are my only non-Vegetarian nights. I'm enjoying it thus far. I can offer an explanation in the near future regarding my dietary choice; but I think it has a great deal more to do with the world I live in that with myself.

Second, I've spent a great deal of time this past week looking at my humanity. Or, my subhumanity. It has been interesting. I don't know if I have learned anything new over the past week, but I can feel as though God is popping up in my life again. As I've said in the past, I don't know if I like this.

Third, New York Marriage Equality was voted down in the senate earlier this week. I don't think anger adequately describes my emotions. I'm so exhausted of rights being denied. On the plus side, some very articulate and powerful people spoke in favour of Gay Rights, hopefully offering some credit to the Gay Rights Movement. But I can sense the "movement" is losing momentum; it is falling to shambles because of disappointment. It is waiting for the opportunity to say that progress isn't taking place, but that we have arrived.

That "we" including heterosexuals.

Unfortunately, the topic of this blog post is none of the above. And there are at least two great opportunities to speak about something other than myself - a goal of mine for quite a while, but never actually accomplished.

Today is about me. Again.

This past week I was asked out on a date. By a man. By an attractive, friendly man, who is in my age cohort (actually perhaps a little young... but that is ok). You see, I've gotten used to being gay around my gay friends to the point that I am confident - confident enough to be desirous to some of these new friends of mine.

I don't wish to be desirous. Yet.

I told him that I needed to think about it. The honest response was that I didn't need any time - I know the answer is, and can only be, no. Despite my immense desire to be in a relationship right now, I can only offer the responsible answer of no.

I told him that he and I are at different stages with this whole thing. I may appear more confident in it, but I am not. I'm broken, confused, and lost in a foreign world - I can barely see my life two weeks from now at this point, let alone involving myself more heavily in somebody else's.

I have not told a LOT of people that I am gay. A lot of these people don't need to know that I am gay. But many do. Like my closest friends in Regina, and Saskatoon. Like my brother. My grandmother. My aunt. My parents and I still have to have a conversation where we mutually acknowledge it. My church has to discover it - and while I don't expect them to be ok with it, they need to know in advance.

I don't want to go out on dates with a boyfriend and be concerned about people discovering me; I don't want to be outed in a vulnerable environment where I have little control and even less confidence. I don't want to be concerned about who is going to "happen upon us" while we are out for coffee. I want to confident and comfortable on my own; and I don't want anybody thinking that they can help me do this.

I told one of my friends that this was a crisis. She laughed at me. I don't think she quite understands...

Time is the bastard here. If I had been asked this same question in six months, I would've answered differently. I would've avoided breaking somebody's heart.