I’m getting to be that age, you hear it often around the office almost on a weekly basis, someone’s parent is ill or has suddenly passed away. I’m very blessed because my mom is still around, about to have her 81st birthday. My mom isn’t in the best of health, and I often worry about her and how’s she feeling. It’s difficult for her to catch her breath and she’s constantly connected to a variety of oxygen machines, concentrators they call them, and they sustain her life. When she walks out the door, the gentle hum of the machine she’s carrying can be heard underneath her words. She’s a talker like me, that’s where I get it from, and I often have to stop her and say “breathe through your nose” so she can get some O2. You can probably guess I love my mom very much and I don’t know what I’d do without her.Continue reading
When I first realized I was gay I was 17 years old and terrified. Although I was sexually attracted to other men, I was frightened to become a part of the stereotype I saw on television and magazines. Of course times were different and what you saw on television was exactly that, a stereotype. As I began to meet other gay people I realized we were a diverse crowd of Blacks, Whites, Asians, Hispanics and any other ethnic category you could find on a college application. We celebrated our diversity because we needed to, our sites were set on fighting the AIDS epidemic, acceptance and equal rights. I quickly realized the scary images I saw in my youth were no where near the Gays and Lesbians I had come to know.
Living in the United States can and will make you pretty spoiled. You become accustomed to life as you know it, and take everyday occurrences completely for granted. Many of us here in Miami are reminded of our abundance as a nation when we share the experience of someone that recently immigrated from Cuba, and see their reactions to to a well stocked produce section at the local grocery store. It’s an all out emotional meltdown at times, something neither person is prepared for. While economic prosperity is something that’s relatively easy to appreciate and witness, individual freedoms are not. Most people vacation in areas of the world where they are welcomed with open arms, but even in the most beautiful and serene locations, the gay tourist has to be mindful of their destination in a different capacity… their personal safety. There are many parts of the world where being homosexual is against the law, and I’m not referring to some distant land on the other side of the planet, I’m talking about enjoying the beauty and splendor of the Caribbean. It was there that my partner Eric and I became very appreciative of the security and liberties we now enjoy in the United States.
Spiritual journeys can take you more places than American Airlines, that’s probably why they’re called “journeys.” They can transport you from a small church with a white steeple in the deep South, to mega-structures and re-purposed stadiums that accommodate tens of thousands of people in a single Sunday service. The can bring you inwards, to take a deeper look into what makes you you, or they can take you outwards, quite literally, to the great outdoors where the Pagans celebrate the gifts and cycles that nature affords them. Or they can take you to Orlando Florida to meet a lady that channels a group of ancient non-physical conscious beings that she refers to as “Abraham.” The last reference, while sounding more science fiction than spirituality, is actually something Oprah Winfrey and I have in common… we both got to speak with Abraham Hicks and learn about the “Law Of Attraction.” Not intended to replace your religious beliefs or spiritual practice, the concept of Law Of Attraction is a way of looking at the events in your life, how you react to them, and how you “attract” positive and negative experiences alike.
This article was originally a post I wrote within a spiritual based online group called “The Lightworkers Lab.”
Sometimes really bad things happen to us in life and we don’t understand why. We beat ourselves up, we’re angry at God, we ask “why?” in complete agony over what just occurred. People will say “everything happens for a reason” and we want to scream because the pain is unbearable. The answers aren’t always immediate and sometimes it takes years or even decades to see the light behind the darkest times in our lives.
I was driving back from lunch this afternoon and parked the car, when I was suddenly blessed with this little poem in my head.
I know things
I know things that most let pass by.
I know the bird that soars, across the morning sky.
I know the child that’s ignored by their kin,
Laughing still, because of love within.
I know the lost dog, searching for a home.
Wanting someone to hold them and say they’re not alone.
I know the serpent, hiding in the grass.
Just wanting to live, waiting for a meal to pass.
I know the man, with bitter and anger on his face.
His life suddenly gone, not leaving but a trace.
I know the woman, weeping in her hands.
Trying so hard to keep it together, and dealing with life’s demands.
I know the world, that’s crying for change.
Wondering when the balance of power, will finally rearrange.
I know these things and I keep it to myself.
All of them inside, on a tiny little shelf.
November 22nd, 2017 – 1:56 PM North Pole
Turns out no one is immune to the sting of cyber crimes according to representatives from the North Pole who reported a massive data breach on Tuesday. Hackers have reportedly stolen personal information from over 1.5 billion children around the world in what elves described as “naughty” behavior. The attack, thought to have originated in China, sought to gain marketing information obtained from millions of letters to Santa, regarding children’s preferences on a variety of toys, most of which are made there. “It’s very disturbing” said Mrs. Claus, before offering reporters hot chocolate and cookies, “children have a right to privacy also.”
I was looking for parking the other day at the local grocery store and immediately located a middle aged man, with just a few groceries, loading his vehicle. This was probably the most simple and mundane of tasks, not requiring much effort since the amount of plastic bags he had in his cart was probably fewer than twelve. Yet he seemed to relish in the idea that I was anxiously waiting for him to finish and leave so I could park my car. Clearly he was in control and he milked the opportunity… so much so that another person came, loaded their vehicle and left before this guy finished. I ended up taking that spot instead, with some level of satisfaction that the guy with control issues never got to achieve a power-play orgasm. Clearly he would have climaxed while backing out ever so slowly, suddenly stopping for traffic that wasn’t there. Still, I was completely pissed off at this obvious and pathetic need to control.
I’m sure it’s happened to you before. You get home after a nice date with a handsome guy, he looked just like his pics online, so that’s a plus right out of the gate. Sex was pretty much a slam dunk so he’s definitely getting a second try and you’re actually looking forward to it. You get the usual text message accompanied by some cute emoji…
“tonight was really great, thanks for being so cool.”
You smile and drift off to sleep as you contemplate how dating really isn’t that bad after all.
The next morning you wake to the familiar routine of shutting off the alarm on your phone, oversleeping, and suddenly realizing you’re late for work. As you rush to get yourself together and out the door, you notice you have a text message on your phone which must be from the office reminding you of a meeting you’re late for. In what has become a very automatic set of movements for your fingers, you navigate immediately to your texts and retrieve the poorly timed piece of information…
“thinking of you.”
Life wasn’t easy when I was in my late teens. I was 17 and completely lost. I was sleeping all day and awake only at night, a soon to be high-school dropout fighting depression and the realization that I was gay. Therapy was gradually helping me out, but there were many days when the thought of living life as gay man would churn my stomach. Those days were extra dark, mostly spent staring at the ceiling, contemplating the best way to end my life. Sometimes I’d be on the phone well into the night and early morning, talking to one of the few friends I had. Unfortunately, she was also suicidal and shared a very dark place. Instead of lifting each other up, we’d compare notes on the best and least painful ways of making it all go away. My mom picked up the phone once and overheard the conversation. Unable to process what was going on in my life, she started yelling at me… screaming… words of desperation… saying I was “sick” and then she broke down crying. Mom was fighting her own demons, trying the best to raise us without our father around, while her youngest son, her baby, was slipping through her fingers before her eyes.