A Hard Truth

After giving my public statement time to sit and not think about it, I was rereading it recently. I must admit that I have become the bad guy. I believed J.M and followed her, and others, examples. I hurt ppl that I care about. I have been accused of spreading rumors that originated with J.M. that were designed to hurt and alienate other ppl. ppl I care about. I don't really know how things got so twisted around that I got in that situation. And, I suspect I am far from the only one that she used like this.  I am grateful that the person in question believes that I not not do so maliciously, nor with intention of harm. But, I am not going to be able to renew that friendship. This is hard to grasp and something I am really struggling with.

I  had to remind myself that I may have been manipulated and isolated, but I wasn't openly attacked. I didn't have ppl on social media and in the pagan community hounding me and saying bad things about me. I wasn't made into a target of a smear campaign like so many others were. Even though I tried to be open minded, fair about everything, and think for myself, I was turned into an arrow. I don't have a clue how it felt to my friends who became targets. I feel guilt, shame, sadness, anger, and fear.  I can only imagine how hurt, isolated, and painful it must have been for others. My intention is, to apologize, figure out what I have done, and how to make it right.

 If they don't want to talk about it, how do I get resolution on this? And, I think that the “I” in the previous sentence is the clue. It becomes a very slippery slope and a very easy one to turn around and make all about me. It is easy to flip this and say things like:

”Why didn't you let me know, why didn't your friends let me know? How am I going to be able to apologize for something that I don't even know I did? How do I defend myself or my actions if I don't specifically know what I have done?

Notice how many references to myself there where but none in reference to the other person, accept in an accusatory tone? My first instinct is to ask questions like those above. But, they wont do anything to heal the situation if someone doesn’t want to talk about it and has moved on. I don’t have the right to try and force someone back through that kind of pain just because I want answers. That is their choice and they have every right to choose not to speak about the past. I respect that. Even if it is difficult to do, I have to accept that. I have no right to try and make someone speak about anything, let alone painful things from the past. My first rule in life is simple, “Your rights stop when they intrude upon the rights of others.”. I am not sure if there is a way to make things right. I do not have a clue on how that can be done, nor even where to begin. I will ask if there is anything I can do to make it right,  and start from there. There may not be an answer for me, but I will try.

As I sort through all of this it boils down to something very simple and inescapable. I am the one who did something that hurt others. I am responsible for my actions, and I have to deal with the consequences. I am the one who needs to try and make it right and apologise for my actions. There is no wriggle room, no deflection, no shifting the blame. I was the bad guy, I was the arrow, and now I have to live with that. I am not really sure how to do that, other than to remember to never be put into this situation again. Talk openly, love fiercely, be honest, and try to do my best. Ask questions, speak my truths, and always be kind. I will learn from this and hope time heals the pain for both of us. That is all I can do at the moment. Trust to time and move forward.

Gatekeeper Jey

My Public Statement

I am posting the here for all those people who do not use Facebook. Please feel free to share this post with anyone you may think needs to read it. I don't quite know how to reach all the people that I miss, so any help would be appreciated.

his is my story of what I experienced during the abuse scandal within CAYA caused by Jessica Matthews. I have sorted through my diaries, emails, text messages, conferred with other people who are present. I have reviewed everything I believe and understood through my psychiatrist, psychologist, a licensed clinical social worker, and a marriage and family therapist. While working with all these people, one dear friend helped me crystallize the final piece and by doing so, brought everything into focus a few weeks ago. This is a personal statement about my experiences and my perceptions. They are mine alone. My purpose in writing this is for myself. I need to put this out so that I can move on now. It is time to rebuild, and start anew.

Why now and not earlier? Because I finally saw how conditioned I was and the pattern of isolation that she used to cut me off from friends and family. I see now how she took advantage of me when I was weak and broken. Leading up to my divorce and after facial reconstruction she had convinced me that my husband was abusive, and that he was using me. That he was an awful person. That's easy to do when my brain was shutting down due to health issues. I trusted her and asked for advice. She isolated me from my husband. My friends, the other men in the men's group, the council, my teachers, and mentors, and later from my boyfriend, my best friends. Anybody that could have helped me and discover what she was doing she cut me off from.

She made me feel like I didn't belong anywhere. But that was OK according to her, because she understood me, even if nobody else did. The council may not have faith in me, but she believed in me. Meanwhile she's telling the council things about me from my personal life with enough spin to escape a black hole. Trying distance them from me by implying a lack of character and inner strength. I didn't realize that she had convinced me that I didn't fit anywhere, and that no one understood me.

With chronic pain, mobility issues, neuropathy, cognitive difficulties, depression, anxiety, and mild PTSD, I was an easy target. It's no wonder she could easily do this to me as she was my teacher, my trainer, my mentor, my guide, she knew all of my inner hurts - and how to use them against me. I didn't feel like I belonged with the victims who had left the coven, I didn't feel like I belonged to the people who remained, I didn't feel like I really belonged anywhere. I should say I didn't feel like I would be accepted... I felt like those victims who had left would be angry with me, after all she had led me to understand that nobody understood me like her.

I lost most of my social group in my divorce. The Green Men disbanded at her suggestion, and the men's moons were even discontinued as I felt it was financially irresponsible to pay for the space for just me to attend a men's ritual if I didn’t know if anybody else would show up. My hive classmates scattered, some resigned, some went on sabbatical, all of them damaged. My mentors and the teachers in the coven were some of the most damaged and I couldn't speak to them, so I did what I could to help people heal. I listened to their stories. I believe them and what they said. I tried my best to help, but still, I didn't feel like I belonged. And then conversation a couple of weeks ago made it all crystal clear. I had been conditioned and I had been isolated. It was leftover conditioning, leftover damage and hurt, leftover pain and fear. After reviewing this all with my professionals they concurred. So let me share a few things as I understand them.

She insinuates, and implies things in a way that helps out her agenda. ”Don't speak with that person on sabbatical - they need a total break. If you do speak of them it would be bad for them.” Another example "this person is living in some bad conditions at home with their children. If I were a mandatory reporter I would be forced to call and report them but, I'm bound by confidentiality so I can't..." She said that, knowing full well that as a nurse I am a mandated reporter and I realized that she was trying to get me to call on somebody within the coven based on what she said alone. After checking around, turns out it wasn't true.

One time I asked her for advice about changes to a ritual that the men's group was doing and she said something like, “that's a wonderful idea. you should totally do that. It sounds great,” and then after I did that some of the other men came to her to discuss the ritual and she said things like, “that's a terrible thing. He should not have done that. I can totally understand that was the wrong thing to do and you have every right to be upset.” Yet when I talked to her later, she was on my side playing us against each other. Then later she suggested that we needed to have a mediated conversation with her as the mediator. So of course we did and she comes out looking like the hero and we both lost trust in each other over something that she fabricated just so she could look like a hero.

At one point, she tried to force a person who was training with me in my hive to move out of their house because she disliked one of the other people that was living there. This conversation happened in front of me and my entire hive training group and she said that if they didn't move out of that house that they couldn't continue training or be a part of CAYA. Separately and at different times, she implied and insinuated in front of other people that both my ex-husband and my current boyfriend were abusive. She continue to talk about moving me in with other people so that I could be taken care of, and I kept mentioning my boyfriend. She would just not answer and if I brought things up with her directly that she didn't like, the conversation never turned out in my favor... She always has to be right, you cannot argue with her, and she always knows best.

There is a pattern in her method of arguing and in winning a conversation. Here is another example.
Me: I was uncomfortable with the speech that you just gave in the ritual you said men or all men try to take power from women and/or doing bad things in general. I noticed that other men present looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. Can you maybe change the language so it's not lumping them together.

Her: I don't really understand what you mean. I didn't say that. perhaps you misunderstood.

Me: *repeats part of sermon that made the men uncomfortable.*

Her: I never said that and if it makes you uncomfortable then it sounds like you need to do some work around that issue. I never said it like that and I can't believe you would think I would do something like that. As your mentor and your high priestess, I'm offended that you could think such things of me.

Me: I'm only talking about the phrasing from that…

Her, interrupting: It is obviously your issue and not mine. What I said was different and as such I will now have to draw a boundary between us. As it is your issue and not mine, you will have to deal with it. I am not going to allow you to foist your problems on to me. I am fine with what I have said.

Me: Wait, what I don't have any issues with…

Her, speaking over me again: I am more than happy to help you with unpacking these issues later and I'm happy that you brought these to my attention. I will think on it and see how I can help you with it at a later time. Right now I have to go. Have a blessed day.

First she denies, then she attacks you, not the issue. I guess they call it a pivot nowadays. She refocuses on a personal attack against you then invokes her authority, as well as personal boundaries. Then she offers to help you with your problem and thanks you for bringing it to her attention. Then she makes her exit. Seems kind of like shock and awe combined with a pivot.

I'd also like to say something about the men's group. The Green Men were the ones who managed and put on the Brotherhood of the Moon's rituals. She suggested that the men's moons should be combined with the women's moons. There were objections that if the men are seeking a place to explore the masculine divine with other men in a safe space within a predominantly goddess centered culture, they would not show if there women attending. It was pointed out, that it would drop attendance and stall the growth in numbers that the men's moons had been recently enjoying. This proved to be the case. By the time the experiment was over, the attendance in the men's only moons was back down at the bottom. She also decided, in her infinite wisdom, that one of the women from the women's tradition should oversee the men's group. Somebody like a manager, who we had to let know how things were going and what we were up to. She also played us off of each other. At one point, when we were having an all-hands men's meeting to determine the future of the Green Men and other business, she showed up to mediate and help facilitate the meeting. In the process, she suggested the best thing to do would be to disband the group and then start over again. One of the reasons that we ended up dispersing was because of all the hard feelings she created between the men. And a lot of those hard feelings, I have found out after the fact came from her lying to us about each other and keeping us from communicating by separating us and having us talk to her. I have no doubt that she dismantled the Green Men intentionally, slowly over time.

When things started to fall apart with CAYA, I had people stop me from getting involved due to my brain damage, slow processing speeds with both verbal and written communication - my anxiety and chronic pain, along with my medication make me an easy target. I did what I could to keep my head down and support others where I could. I listened. I believed. I watched as, one-by-one, people burned out, gave up, couldn't deal anymore, left to take care of themselves. Some left because they didn’t feel believed or just couldn't take it anymore, “I didn't sign up for this” and it felt like a war zone. I needed to go back on medication for anxiety to cope with some of the mess that was left behind by her. Only in the aftermath had it become clear that she had done this.

I had just not realized emotionally what it meant for me until now. I had not seen the pattern of abuse and control that she had caused in my life. I thought I had gotten off light. Then the patterns slowly started showing up and now I get it. I'm free of her at last. I highly recommend professional help if she has affected your life. If you don't have insurance that covers mental health and live in California, there is a program to get help for free or greatly reduced cost. I believe it may be called California Mental Health Services.

I wanna say a couple of things briefly about the phrase "witch wars.” It marginalizes conflict within the community and allows people to turn a blind eye to abuse. Those injured feel further isolated by people labeling it “just a witch war.” How can those injured reach out if you belittle them and their hurts? It's a dismissive term and one that allows abuse to hide in plain sight. Please just think about that... And for those who at the end of this say, “well you would never have had some of the experiences that you had if it weren't for her invitations and guidance,” you're correct, but that in no way factors into the conversation of abuse of power, or abuse at all. Here's a parallel example: if a man flies you to Paris, takes you to the top of the Eiffel tower at midnight for private dinner, and has your name written across the sky in fireworks, it is a magical and amazing evening. Then he takes you back to a 5 star hotel with champagne in the presidential suite and then beats the crap out of you, it's still wrong. It's still abuse. No matter what he has done for you before he brought you to the hotel, the abuse is still wrong. It's very simple.

In the past she has repeatedly said things like, “the patriarchy is attacking strong, independent, empowered, female leaders and trying to tear us down” when I look around at the pagan community, I see many strong, empowered, independent women leading. Most of them are women that she tried to tear down. It is not the patriarchy causing her problems, She is causing her problems. It is her own behavior that is the issue.

Some years ago I was invited to participate at the Night of a 1000 Crowns - I believe that was what is was called. My part was to sit on the stage as one of the individuals who would have the divine feminine, the goddess, called into them. We were to act as living statues, as vessels for Her light. I didn't know what to expect and was just told I was to be like a living statue and a vessel for the goddess. She asked me to do this part and it was she to be the one who called the goddess down into me when the time was ready. She stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders as we waited until it was time, and then everything is a bit blurry. I can tell you that when I open my eyes, I was full of love, compassion, peace, and understanding. So many emotions and each one specific to each of the attendants who approached me. They were mostly women, and while I sat as a statue, I saw so many tears. Some were tears of joy and some of them tears from something I couldn't name or understand. And as they each approached and threw flowers at my feet and I sat there, this shell filled with life, and light and song, helping these attendees heal, and see within me that which they needed to see. After the ritual was done I asked for some of the flowers that were offered at my feet and I also asked for the simple green cotton fabric that had been draped over the chair I was sitting on. Thank you again to the lovely lady that the fabric belonged to, for she agree to let me have it. Even today I have dried flowers saved and I have the green cotton fabric. I wrap it around myself and times for a reminder of the feelings that I had that day. It was incredibly humbling opportunity to be in the presence of something so magically healing. My world shifted that day and it started me upon the path of understanding my obligation to use my privileges as a white cis-gender man to use my voice, to ensure that the voice of others can be heard, and to do so without telling the stories of those people for them. I remember telling people after the ritual, “now I understand why statues of the Virgin Mary cry.” It truly shifted my paradigm that day.

And now the reason I tell you this story. Jessica invited me to this event. She was the one who stood at my back, kept me grounded, and called the divine feminine into me. I will not have her presence in this memory alter it for me after the fact. This event in my life was between myself, the divine, and the participants. It was between me, the goddess, and those people who threw flowers at my feet. I will not let her tarnish moments of joy and strength just because she was present. She does not get that power over me. I will not make myself weaker by throwing out a memory that helps me grow and change for the better just because she was there. She isn't going to get that from me.

I've grown so much with CAYA. I would not have had the strength to have facial reconstruction surgery that I needed to stop brain damage without CAYA’s support. They helped me to rebuild myself from a broken mind with missing memories and then they helped me grieve after a divorce, and yet again after getting hit by a bus. They patiently helped me heal up and find myself again. I miss CAYA. I miss my friends, CAYA did these things. My friends did these things. I know that CAYA is effectively ended as it moves on to become something else. I miss so many people. And knowing what I do now, I have no idea if any of what she told me about why people left is true. I was an easy victim. I am writing this for me. I hope it does someone out there some good, I just needed it to be out there so I can close the book cover on this whole mess. It is time for me to sleep, tomorrow is Pantheacon. Maybe I can track down some old friends and see how they have been.

Jey

Thanks to Susan and Brian for editing and proofing for me . Giant hugs

Chant For The Fathers of Change

As a Father of Change, I have been thinking and working on modifying not only my perceptions of the world, but of helping other to do the same. If you have read my previous posts, you probably know that I try to look at the world through others' eyes to try and have honor, compassion, and understanding for all.

I sat down last dark moon to write out a poem, or something like it, and found my day absorbed as my creation turned into a chant, and then into a song. I found my self recording it and then editing it and rerecording it. After I recorded it and looked at the words I had written, I realized that it was meant to be for the Fathers of Change. Let me explain why.

 There are certain ideals that the Fathers of Change and the Mothers of the New Time, our sister effort in the world, have in common. Most of them are things that people agree with. There are a few things out there that some people may want to believe in, but they know the struggle with certain ideals daily. I think of this as Who I Am vs Who I Want to Be. Example: I really want to drink more water daily because its good for me, but I don't. I keep at it daily, trying to drink that water in the hopes that one day I will do it without thinking about it.

People like me who have been wronged, injured, abused, or controlled by someone else often don't want to forgive our attackers/aggressors. We allow it to bleed over into our lives and it colors how we view people that have something in common with our attacker. I didn't want to honor certain types of people because they held a position of authority similar to the person who injured me. Or, in my mind, I accused people I had never met because they dressed like someone who had beat me. And, I wouldn't talk or interact with one of my bosses because he reminded me of someone who had raped me. I can say I have empathy for women who have been abused by a man and now constantly struggle to trust the other men in their lives. This is part of what I choose to send my energies out to when I perform my Fathers of Change ritual. To stop these types of things from happening, to heal those who have been hurt, and to change the perceptions of the society that these aggressors came from, as well as the aggressors personally.  I honestly send out the energy of change every time I do any ritual. This is the change I seek. Honor for all, and release from the pain that stands in the way of this change.

I have learned that in order to create change and manifest new thoughts, ideas, and emotions, you have to hold the container, the space, for them. That can be hard to do when you have a lifetime worth of memories, thoughts, ideals, and baggage crowding into the precious space you are struggling to create for change. The song I wrote helps me burn away that baggage and open the space for the change I wish to create. I feed the crap in my life to the fires of change and they burn away what I don't need and that which no longer serves my highest good. It frees my mind and heart to work on change. And, yes sometimes the crap comes back. I just have to keep working at it. The fires of change are always there and no one said change was easy. I hope this will help you in some way as much as it helps me.

The words are :

Fire changing, fire flowing, take this fuel and keep on growing.
By the power of the sun, with your flame our will be done.

Grant to us some clarity, by your light please let us see.
Blame and failure hold us back, binding feet, obscuring paths.

Fire changing, fire flowing, take this fuel and keep on growing.
By the power of the sun, with your flame our will be done.

Take these things already learned, take these things and let them burn.
By your fires let them die, these things we hold too tightly by.

Fire changing, fire flowing, take this fuel and keep on growing.
By the power of the sun, with your flame our will be done.

Take these things ourselves we blame, take these things our source of shame.

By your fire let us learn the truth about the things we yearn.

Fire changing, fire flowing, take this fuel and keep on growing.
By the power of the sun, with your flame our will be done.

Fire, Fire. Take our pain. Fire, Fire. Help us change.

-Gatekeeper Jey, copyright 2013

A link to a YouTube clip of the song is here. If you want to download it the song file click here. 

A word of warning: I have never done anything like this before. Check the recording volume before you play it. It was recorded on a old USB headset I use for gaming, so I didn't have fine control over the quality.  

Feel free to use this in public rituals, private rituals, personal use and walking down the street :) . Share it as you feel you should, but please be respectful and credit or cite this page and myself as needed. 

If you have any questions or comment, please feel free to post them or write me privately. 

Gatekeeper Jey

Messages in Retreat

Wind said:

If you never let go of the ground then how can I lift you into the clouds...

Water said:

Your reflection is not what you see. It is what you feel and think when you see it...

Earth said:

Care for me and I will care for you...

Fire said:

The seeds have been planted. They will grow...

Ego said:

Sit here and look mysterious...

Body said:

Stop being a dick, your hurting yourself...

Sun said:

Relax... If you fall they will catch you...

The Universe said:

Be at peace...


Gatekeeper

Dreams through a childs eyes

I remember walking into a small mom and pop corner grocery store. They still had a bell that rang when I entered, not the annoying buzzer thing I hear nowadays. I could tell that it was night time because the lights in the store were spread out enough that they created little pockets of shadowy space every few feet. When I walked a few paces in the door I turned to the right and looked up at the elderly asian man towering above me. I can't see over the counter very well as it is right at eye level. I remember glancing at all of the things crowded in the tiny space behind the man, but none of them were what I had come looking for.  He suggested a few things, but the words never seemed to make it to my ears, only the gestures and the shift of his gaze told me what he was offering me to try.
 
Not finding what I was looking for behind the counter I turned my feet down the isle running along side it. Though my feet moved at my normal gate, I did not cover as much ground as I should have. My legs were much shorter here and seemed dreamy in their walk, disconnected somehow. There was a slight scratchy sound as my feet moved along the the linoleum floor with a slight gritty feeling under my feet. As I slowly walked between the light and darkness, down the isle, my eyes fell upon the glass cases at the back of the store. I was mesmerised. I knew instantly that what I was looking for was to be found there. I was drawn to the humming cases. My ears picked out the high keening of the fluorescent lights within as my eyes flicked over their contents.  My instincts told me that I had seen what I was looking for here. I know it had been here before.

I reached the back cooler case where one wall met another wall and made an odd corner case. Slowly I passed the first door and then the second, at the third door I looked beyond the glass to see a chocolate fantasy. It was layered with finger wide bands of dark and light chocolate. Back and forth the chocolates switched, easily reaching a towering height of over a foot tall. It was crowned with whipped cream and a gleaming cherry.  The glass looked like it had been blown around the chocolate creation so deftly that it lifted and cradled it's contents as to not just hold, but offer them up to me. It was holding forth its charge for me, and me alone.

There was no hesitation. I knew there was money in my pocket to pay for this, so I opened the case and drank it down. In the back of my mind I expected it to be like a mouse or parfett, but it was liquid joy. Between the space of three breaths I drank the entire thing. The craving I had for this confection was beyond my need for breath, and I had nothing in my mind or body that was focused on anything else. I finished without even closing the door on the case, my slender leg still propping it open. I could feel the cold air rushing around my thigh.

Then with a contented sigh I let the door close and turned to make my way back to the counter to pay for my bliss. Just then a beautiful young lady turned the corner from an isle and we came face to face. At first her beauty was stunning. But then I saw her youth granted beauty had begun to fade. Her hair was a little lackluster and mussed. Her careworn brow and smile bestowed crows feet elevated her beauty. The way she walked when she had turned the corner and the almost scolding way she looked down at me once she recovered gave it away.  I realised then that she glowed with the inner grace and strength of a mother. Her face took on an odd expression. With a probing search of her eyes I knew she was looking not quite at me but strangely through me. Then a tightening around her lips traveled up to her deep drown eyes and I watched them change from questioning and seeking to recognition and sadness. She opened her mouth to speak, but  whatever she had been about to say seemed stuck in her throat. She closed her mouth slowly, shook her head, and turned and walked away. Her step seemed slower than when she had turned the corner and her head was lowered as if in thought. I could not quite hear her as she started speaking under her breath, but in a few seconds I caught the rhythm and cadence of her utterance. It was a prayer. One I knew but could not recall in my dream fogged state. I knew instinctively that it was for me, but did not understand why. I didn't understand her reaction. It was strange and I watched her walk down the isle with refrigerator cases on one side and shadowy isles on the other. I stood there and watched her walk away with her little blue plastic grocery basket swinging a counterpoint to her gate. She was still speaking under her breathe as she turned down one of the isles and stepped into a pool of shadows.

I jumped as the case next to me hummed to life in an attempt to keep its charges cool. Its sudden action startled me and I turned to give it a reproachful look. I then saw myself in the glass door. Reflected back at me was a small child. Well not small but not yet grown. Maybe a girl of 11 or so she was not quite a child and yet still not a youth. I was wearing simple clothing. A pretty yellow cotton dress reflected back at me. It was straight cut with little purple flowers sewn or embroidered upon it. The waist was synced in with a thin yellow ribbon. The frock fell mid calf and my feet were bare, or maybe I had simple sandals. I'm not sure which. Long night black hair hung past my shoulders. Tanned smooth cheeks framed guileless and soft brown eyes. Thin slender legs and skinny arms emerged from the dress. I saw a girl child reflected back at me. One who had just had a craving unlike any she had before. At a time when she should have been sleeping she was out searching for the answer to her need.

The Me started to supplant the dream childs awareness and I wondered at a few things while I struggled up out of my dream. What had the look from the saddened women meant? And, what was so wondrous about this chocolate that would have driven me out at night, alone, to have it? The first was a good thought and the second a bad one. I was sure that this child did not know what this craving foretold. And, that it would not be the last craving like this she would have in the coming months. Having no memory of the child before the beginning of this dream I do not know if she had yet started on her path to becoming a woman. The encounter with the mother in the store lead me to suspect that this was perhaps a different path. I feared this child was on the path to becoming a mother before she had even started fully down that of a woman. The brown eyes that reflected back at me from the glass looked like ones that still played with her dolls and had a whole imaginary house set up in her mind while playing make believe at home. I don't think she knew what path she was on or that there were even paths to begin with. I suspected that this slim and outwardly fragile seeming child was totally unprepared for this. I am thankful I have no idea how she got there.

When I woke fully, back in my body, achy and painful as it is, I missed the carefree lightness of a child. I felt a heaviness settle on my shoulders as I sat up and removed the comforter. I felt profoundly old when thinking of children like this one, who become adults all too soon. I picked up my cane from my bedside and did the only thing I could think of at 2:00 in the morning. I limped into the kitchen and made myself a glass of chocolate milk and ate half a pint of double chocolate ice cream in the dark. It helped soothe the imaginary craving but not the weight on my heart. By the light of a cracked fridge door I finished off my glass of chocolate milk and lit a clove cigarette. The crackle with each inhale made an odd counterpoint to the wisps of my dream hovering around my head. It helped me ground back to Me.  Not a healthy way to do it, granted, but it worked. Sadly it did not remove the weight upon my heart. I fear there really was a little girl in a yellow dress somewhere looking into a glass cooler door. If so, I hoped that she was able to glimpse through my eyes and draw strength from them for what is to come. May she be loved and may she know that she is loved. Always may she know love. Please Gods let her know she is loved. Always. Please.

Like rain my tears fall upon letters and my moist fingers construct wisdom from a soggy land.

In my mind fruit is born from this land and flows upon this page. The beginning is simple. The end is not.

I am a Man and today I weep.

I weep for myself and the obstacles I can not overcome. I cry from my pain and weep for my pride. I struggle with a body in pain that will not obey my mind and a mind that is clouded by this struggle and the medications that try to aid it. Yet a broken body and broken mind still can see the truth. Even while they heal I can see fear in the world. Even in my weakened state I still see this fear. Fear of me. Fear of my sex. Fear of Men.

Fear. This causes the most damage in the world. Fear of what will happen when you tell the truth leads to a lie. Fear of the unknown can lead to harsh decisions and judgments that are often made in error. As a man I see it directed towards me and it sickens me. It angers me, and it makes me cry. I can see in others eyes fear, and it is not fear of the unknown. It is not fear that I have caught them in a lie. It is not the disdain I receive from others due to my cane. Nor the pity I have seen in furtive glances at my leg braces. It is not even close to the looks I have received when hobbling quickly to catch a bus, with my hair standing up from the wind. That is a startled look with a touch of fear towards a crazy man. This is different. It is a distinct flavor of fear I have seen before. It leaves a metallic taste in my mouth and sadness in my heart. My chest tightens and my stomach cramps. They have been taught that I am going to hurt them. They have been hurt by, and now fear, men. They fear me. A simple sideways step and look at my face can give it away. Those whose eyes never fall to my cane or body. They see my face and know I am a man. Then I see fear well up behind their eyes. Most keep it hidden well. I see them steel themselves and close up. But, behind those brightly painted shutters, those false eyes, lies the truth. Fear. And, most of the time someone put it there. And, I am pissed about it.

As a man it is my place is to teach, nurture, respect, and guard.

And so, I cry for the women who fear me just because I am a man. I weep for the children who expect a kick from me. I have tears for even the other men who have the mark, the subtle tell, that they too have been abused. I cry for those who have been hurt deeply and may never be able to see past my sex. I am weary of a world where I am expected to be aggressive just because of my gender. Seeing fear in someones eyes directed at me just cuts me to my core. I shed tears for those who have been so hurt by men that I can never reach out to comfort them. I will never be able to try and help them. It will only raise their fear and cause more pain. I know that role will be filled by someone else. Yet, I somehow feel responsible for this hurt they have received. How many times in the past did I not stop something I knew was wrong? How many times when I was younger did I feed into this cycle without knowing any better? As one who grew up in a culture of violence I did not know any better. I do now. I make no excuses for my youth and work to make amends. I have learned from my past. Still, I cry for the things I have done in my youth. For the pain I caused others.

Fear creeps into the world from many places. I am not so narrow in my focus to think all of the worlds ills are due to men. Yet the "Might makes right" still seems to prevail too often from where I stand. That is true stem of this problem. The abuse I see is not only in interpersonal relations it is in government, it is in corporations, it is an attempt at control. All of it creates fear. I really do know that not all of this is due to men, and not all of it from these circumstances. Here I am I am speaking specifically about fear towards men. I have personally seen the dynamic switched, where my friends wife beat the crap out of him for years. I never knew. I found out only after his divorce years later, and only from a third party.

So, fear is still there, and a large amount of it is caused by men. As a true man I am Angry at these so called men who use violence to bolster their own sense of self. Those who control others through fear are wrong. Men who beat others, who intimidate and manipulate others, who encourage the perpetuation of this behavior are not truly men. They are children in a grown mans body playing at being a man. They do not understand responsibility, love, or respect. They fail to grasp that true control comes only from within. Self control is the only control you have. You never have control of the world around you. For them I weep just as much as I do for their victims. I cry out in frustration when I see others give up their own power to these men. I know that there are situations where it is very difficult, and may seem impossible to get out. Do not let this continue. Eventually there will be a way. Do not let them continue. By staying you teach them that it is okay, and then you believe it is okay. It is not. I weep for the system that often blames the victim for the crime and refuses to step in and help. Abuse and domestic violence should never be tolerated. Everyone should remember that you are not powerless, you have only given your power away. Take it back. Please.

As a man I am a healer, guide, leader and follower. I respect all who I encounter in my life. They rise or fall by their own actions. I speak out, I teach, I try to get others to understand. But, I tire of the ears that do not hear, and the eyes that will not see. I am a man and I persevere, struggle on, and I weep for those that can not see or hear the truth. So I ask other men, Why do you allow this to continue? Why feed into this fear? You have a responsibility. Call someone out when they act a fool. If you feel uncomfortable when they do something stupid then you know it is wrong. Stop them, teach them, and if they refuse then leave them. I will not be friends or acquaintances with people who perpetuate fear. Humiliation = Fear. Intimidation = Fear. Bullying = Fear. And, Fear = Control. Ask yourself if you would want these men around your children, Wife, Husband, Girlfriend, Boyfriend, Mother, Father, Sister, or Brother. Do you want someone trying to control you, your family, or friends through fear? Do you want them to fear men? Maybe fear you? Think about it...

Every day I think about my actions and how they will effect those around me. I am respectful and kind. And yet I struggle at times to see the true person behind the masks that we all wear. I push aside my disdain for the flashy and coiffed person whose watch costs more than my rent. I ground my resentment at the lady who is wearing jewelry that could likely pay off my student loans. They are people who make their own choices in life and are worthy of my respect even if they choose not to notice me at all. Even these who can live beyond my means carry the pain of abuse. I wish them no ill for their hard work or difference of lifestyles. I have seen marks and tells upon them as well. I have seen them on people from all walks of life. Some more than others. I work to show the world what a kind and gentle man who is still strong without violence looks like. I cry for those that are hurt simply for the lives they choose to live. The brave souls who are born into bodies ill suited for them, be it there gender, sex, physical disability, or mental disability. I weep for those who have been ill treated by life through no fault of their own, or even if by their own choices, the drug addicts, those lamed or injured through life, those malnourished and hungry, those without basic education or skills. There are tears for those who are simply seen differently and misunderstood, whether by skin color, accent, religious belief, gender, sex, orientation, by any label placed upon them. I do not try to be politically correct beyond what I can be. I do not always have the words. I am a simple man who speaks only with the words that I do have that come from my heart. I do not call out labels above to place them in boxes, rather to free them. The labels should not matter. All are people and all are sacred. Some day the world will understand this. That is my goal and hope. I work with two groups towards this goal. One I lend my energy and thoughts to an the other I am a member of. I am a founding member of The Fathers of Change and we work closely with The Mothers of the New Time. We attempt to change the world for the better through our hearts and mind. I encourage all who feel as I do to look into these movements.

My tears soak my shirt and seep into my skin. My tears, the expression of my soul, support me as I falter. They cradle me and hold me. I sit and they sooth me. Eventually they slow and the warm salty taste on my lips reminds me of the ocean and I feel refreshed . My salty shirt clings to my chest and I feel supported and uplifted. I am a man and I will cry. I will weep, and I will sob. Then I will stand back up and go out into the world and fight for the things I believe in. I have no shame from this. It gives me strength. It gives me focus. It gives me drive. I am a man, I am also a person, and a human being. I have sisters and brothers out there who need to have a safe space, who need to learn what it means to be safe, and who need to accept that they can be safe with themselves and with others. Only then will they truly be able to cry without shame. They will then learn the strength that can come from tears. 

Lessons

There are things you learn in life because you choose to. There are things you learn in life because they are taught to you by others. Then there are the things in life you learn that the universe shows you. Her teachings tend to tilt the world on its side.

I am still in pain. My medications have been doubled and they help. The effect of this is an odd wave of mental disconnect that hits about 4 hours after I take each dose. It does not last very long most of the time. Maybe half an hour to an hour on a good day. It does seem to make time stop though.

Stopping time. Stopping the entire concept of linear movement in a constructed system that separates Now from Then. Only knowing each moment as the only moment and not even being to guess that there may be some other moment that you have passed or that you may go to.  Living in the moment, in that breath, and during that heartbeat. I hate it and love it at the same time.

I can not function like this. I found myself at the store yesterday searching for a binding agent in something I wanted to bake, but I could not use eggs as I was cooking for a vegan. So I thought of some other ideas, and decided to go out and look at a local small grocer a block away. My medications hit that wave while I was there. I can honestly say that I never knew that there were so many different kinds of flour. And, like a five year old I studied them all intently, with wonder and that serious look on my face like children get when they are really thinking about something. I was enthralled by flour and I was not even there to look for it.

I was in a moment where only the flour mattered. I was only thinking about how I could use it, what would it taste like, how would it feel, what would the texture be like, how would it rise, how course would it be....and on and on. Forty-five minutes later Brian called me on my cell phone and snapped me out of my reverie. It was sad to lose that moment, and also relieving. I do not like being washed away from myself without control or consent. It does have some advantages though.

I have started trying to use those feeling and experiences during my meditations.These experiences help me still my mind. When I say "still my mind," I mean to think of nothing, I create a void or blank space and just slow my thoughts until they stop. My conscience hangs there in nothingness. Only that space exists. I can actually stop all of my thoughts, no worries, no bills, no pain, no stress......but only for a handful of seconds. I can still my mind for the space of less than a dozen heartbeats. But I enjoy it and need it to cope with the world at times.

The lesson I see here from the universe is to learn how to take those moments, the ones when I can not even think a single thing due to my medication, and incorporate them into my meditation. This is my lesson and what I choose to do with this struggle. There is another lesson I am learning. The hidden one in the background. That one that makes some people grind their teeth. Patience. Something I have never been good at. Odd is it not? It will take time to learn how to stop time.... Got to love how the universe works. She sure has a sense of humor....