Holding Space

Holding space is a term that has been known to me for some time, yet a concept I have come to understand and participate in intimately more recently.  The opportunity to be a part in holding space has developed in several different contexts and "professions" for me, and I believe it embodies a number of my passions and points me towards future endeavours and encounters.
I have been honoured to have participated in holding space for others in several capacities. Some quite unique, and some a privilege few are given the opportunity to have.

The most difficult, yet most rewarding, has been that which I call Courier. Before I get into that let me first define what holding space is.

Simply, and broadly, it's the willingness to walk alongside another through a particular journey; without judgement or condition. Most importantly, without trying to fix or impact the outcome. To embody holding space truly, it requires small, patient steps, and to go at the other person's pace.  In general we hold space for people all the time, and have people who hold space for us.  Even the strongest leaders need to know they have someone with whom they can be weak and vulnerable with; without fear.  However, there are specific instances, careers even, where holding space comes in unique and powerful forms.

My favourite form of holding space is being able to act as what I call, Container.  This role, for me, is merely being the 'thing' that a person can pour their emotions, thoughts and fears into.  Offering a space in where someone feels safe enough to "fall apart" in; a space to wrestle with the most complex of emotions/situations, and share their deepest and darkest thoughts without fear of judgement or that they will leave in a broken state.  When others have held this type of space for me, they have been instances where growth has been cultured and some of the biggest life-changing decisions and philosophical directions have come to light.  And they are the moments that I have felt the largest connection to another human being.

The most humbling and powerful form of holding space, in my eyes, has been that of Courier.  For all intents and purposes this is the opportunity to support someone as they are dying, and to be apart in shuttling their soul from this life. I have been given the privilege of this honouring role in two vastly different circumstances. One, when death is expected; the natural ending to a good life. The other when it is sudden and shocking.  This is the obviously the most difficult, and as a nurse working in Emergency Medicine, unfortunately has become more frequent.

Being Courier for an expected death often gets partnered with the last form of holding space; one that I call Coach. Coaching takes a fine balance of providing knowledge without influencing that person's decisions. It comes with specialty and/or life-experience.  It's showing and providing people options that they might not be aware of, but ultimately allowing those making the decisions to make them without pressure. It's NOT taking away their power, and yet balancing the timeline for delivering of the information that they need. Giving it to them timely manner but without overwhelming them. This has tremendous beauty with an expected departure; teaching family what death looks like, answering questions that are hard to ask, holding someone's hand in those last moments, and watching them finally be at peace.

Tidbits of Thankfulness

Thankfulness has been a troublesome subject. Not in that I find it difficult to identify reasons for thankfulness in my daily life but rather in how to express the thankfulness that I hold in ways that feel adequate to the emotion I am experiencing.

How do you properly thank someone who was an emotional rock for you when you had numerous panic attacks and homesickness in the middle of the Kenyan highlands? Or the friends who encouraged you, and listened to you through the journey of discovering the freedom of being yourself? Or the woman who through living her life taught you what sacrifice, true love, and conviction looks like?

None of the thankfulness I feel is the same. Some even have a sense of bitterness within them.  I find it particularly easy to place blanket statements of thankfulness on obvious things; i.e. I'm thankful for my family, my job, my friends etc. However, to wrestle with thankfulness for the struggles is an even more arduous task.  For example, finding thankfulness for a relationship that initially left you broken and lost; but showed you strength and forgiveness you never thought you possessed.  Or for having everything you had been working for taken away from you and having to find a new direction in life because someone else decided the potential money you had was more important then your well-being.

Being in the moment and discovering thankfulness for things often taken for granted is difficult to practice. I've become more cognizant of these sort of things as of late, especially because of the work I do. To be thankful for two feet to stand on. Or that I won the genetic lottery and didn't leave the womb with congenital abnormalities to battle with the rest of my life. It can be difficult to be cognizant and thankful while not pitying at the same time.

Break the Cycle

One thing that I have noticed about the gay community is that we often share a lot of similar traumas.  Especially with gay males, there is a lot of turmoil surrounding masculinity and masculine acceptance (I understand I'm focused on a cis male perspective, but that is the life experience I have/can relate to at the moment and feel that I have any right in addressing).  Whether that's lack of recognition from ones father, sexual abuse, bullying during school; we have often failed to be loved fully from the world around us.  What I've seen (and in many ways this definitely applies to all humans really) we perpetuated these abuses onto the people we are trying to love.

In a majority of instances this is completely unintentional, but never-the-less it occurs.  This could be because we don't recognise the very baggage we carry ourselves and haven't done the work necessary to put it down, so exhausted we subconsciously do things to pass that baggage off of our person onto someone else. Or, I feel, because of our past experiences we don't know how to express love because we were never properly shown what true love looks like.

So, often times we're looking for that single moment of truth, and epiphany as it were, of what we think love looks like.  Many times it is completely wrong; butterflies in our tummies and that unforgettable high of blissful romance that will inevitably come crashing down when we realised they too are human.

And the circle and cycle begins again.

Things end and we "start over" often when things were never truly broken, we just assumed they were.  'There were just too many missing pieces' becomes the constant justification. Supposed irreparable mistakes.

Few things are truly irreparable when it comes to true love.  I have seen this.  A woman, complete with every reason to be scorned, hateful and bitter, looking at me from across a table we'd sat at so times before, to tell me that through it all; the tears, the sleepless nights, the feeling self-righteous, and at the same time completely worthless:

Love is louder then all your pain.

I want to break that cycle, to not perpetuate the hurts and demons I face. I'm sure it will not be easy, and i'll be asking for forgiveness and patience a lot. But I refuse to live anything short of purposefully in my life. I will live and love deeply and I hope everyone I count close in my life will do the same.


So,
'Tell me the words you long to hear
And I'll sing the loud and clear
Let me heal the wounds you've held on to for all these years

Break the cycle
Break the chains'

Step Into This Moment

Every now and again you meet someone that reminds you of things past, of old passions, and why you do what you do.

Recently, I have become acquainted with someone who has refreshed my soul in this way. Reminded me that I have been relatively silent for quite a while now.

I've never felt much comfort in my writing. It is often highly personal, or deals with topics in life that are uncomfortable for people to wrestle with.  I've struggled with inner demons or have done the internal work long enough before I write, however, that I do find some peace when I put my words out there. The difficulty, or road block, I've often faced is battling the desire to do it for gratification, or public recognition (even just amongst my friends).  In some instances I'd gotten so used to sharing; for a moment, thinking about how many people would read it, how many comments I might get, or even during the writing process editing my words so as "not to offend someone" or becoming overly concerned about burning bridges.

As things have unfolded in the world at large, I have had many thoughts. Some of them may seem radical to people; to others not radical enough. I denied myself putting pen to paper because I either felt I had no horse in the race (punningly enough it was usual surrounding matters of Race) or, in all honesty, I had truly not completed the internal work necessary for me to feel comfortable expressing myself.

Part of what I've found about being me is that I can easily see or sympathise (to a limited extent on certain matters -- I have little to no sympathy for bigotry or hatred) with both sides of some issues, and I have to strive to understand and come to terms with the fluidity on my thoughts. There is a constant battle between "is this what I truly believe" or "is this something that I'm having a gut reaction to because I haven't taken the time to digest the narrative being handed to me or truly listened to the words of the person who has undergone the experience."

Sometimes there has been simple fatigue.  I have an exhausting job.  It takes a lot out of me, and there are times when I do not have to energy to want to engage with some of the events that occur in the world at large. So much vehemence and violence at work, attempting to think about the same "out there" is strenuous. I got to a point where I got tired of caring.

Other times I fall back to old traumas.  Listening to the old voices that told me I was wrong, that loving only left me feeling alone, that I am a burden not a contribution.  There's a terrible peace in that violence telling me theres no point in trying.  But it's an easy escape and I've been silent to too long.

What I have learned is that you have to fix your mind before you can fix anything else.  I have to dump out the jealousy, the pettiness, the unforgiveness, the blaming others that is hindering me from pouring into my life what is going to make me better. So, I refuse to let another year go by wasting my time with these old mentalities.

There will be blessings, there will be opportunities and there will be challenges, and tests. But as soon as I stop looking for answers to happiness in other people, and waiting for miracles somewhere down the yellow brick road, I can set my affections on things that are worth so much more.

And therefore, I will step into this moment and every moment hereafter.

Committment to Excellence

A few weeks ago I was honoured to be selected to give a speech at Duke University School of Nursing to commemorate their annual Commitment to Excellence ceremony.  Here is my speech:


    Good evening Fellow ABSN students, Faculty, and Guests,
    My name is Nathan Hatch, and I’m a fourth semester ABSN student at Duke University School of NURSING!  I stand up here looking out at all of you in amazement and excitement and sincere gratitude.  Who would have guessed that a small town kid from California like me, would end up standing here, at a renown institution like Duke University.  Seriously, a little less then a year ago I was sitting where you are all today.  New, naive, and foolishly, just a little bit indignant at having to sit there and listen to people talk about “excellence.” But here I am, three semesters later, a little older, hopefully a little wiser, and a witness to how the faculty and staff of the School of Nursing have stood to the meet the commitment to develop, deliver and promote excellence in education, nursing care, and community involvement.

    One of my favourite quotes on excellence is from Murali Chemuturi, and as I read it I want you to hold it in your mind as I’ll be referring back to it.  “Excellence,” he says, “is a continuously moving target, pursued through actions of integrity.  It is being the frontrunner, providing safe and reliable service to others, meeting all obligations,” and yet, “continuously learning and improving in all spheres, to pursue that moving target.” I cannot think of a better working definition for excellence in the practice of nursing.  To have integrity, striving for safe and excellent care for others, and committing to being lifelong learners. It requires a strong dose of humility and constant self-examination.  Excellence starts with a question.  A question I will end with later.

    In my studies here at the Duke School of Nursing there is a term that has been given to us that I consider as an umbrella mindset for nursing practice, and some of you may know it as the Holistic approach to medicine.  The Holistic approach, to me, is stepping away from reactive medicine, and instead being proactive, and considering all options of care.  It is how we as nurses (and future nurses) can maintain a mindset of excellence.  To think critically through the nursing process about what we know, while analyzing all spheres of influence of our patients, and assuming responsibility to educate ourselves about what we do not know, in order to maintain the highest level of service to our communities and the people that place their lives in our care.  
    As of now, we sit here because we have been chosen by members of this University who see us as individuals meeting the standard of having “outstanding character, ability and vision” to be the next generation of leaders in this ever changing field of medicine. While this is a great honour, I challenge you to be more than just that, because after all excellence isn’t simply meeting someone else’s standards, it is setting your own and exceeding them.
    I want to tell you a little bit about Esther.  A woman who led me to aspire to join this amazing profession.
    I met Esther nearly three years ago, when I stepped off a crammed 15 passenger van which was currently holding 32 people, into a tiny highland village in Kenya which I was to call home for a time.  Esther is a nurse who’s energy and dedication was the key in transforming the unassuming Dispensary in Ngorika, to a place of excellence in healing.  I went to Kenya as a Public Health Volunteer full of ambitions and expectations in the hopes of making some small difference in the community that I was placed, never expecting to meet a woman who would so inspire me and change the direction of my life forever, and it all started with a simple question of curiosity.
    “Kwa nini hapa Ngorika, Esther? Why here? You could be working ANYwhere else in Kuyu-land, or even Nairobi at any of the best hospitals. Why this Dispensory? Why Ngorika?”
She turned to me and smiled as if the answer was completely obvious, “They need me. Yes, I could have gone anywhere I chose, and cared for any number of sick or injured people, but that is all I would be doing -- mending, fixing. As a Nurse I want to heal. In Ngorika I can do that. Yes, I can mend people’s bodies but I can also mend the system broken by corruption, I can heal the hearts damaged by tribalism, here I can mend the soul.
Who else is there but me?”

That is the question.  And you may be answering, “Plenty, there are plenty of people who can.”  I know I have said that to myself many times through this program, comparing myself to others. Thinking, “They are so much better at this then I.” or “I know so little, how am I supposed to do this?”  But then I recall my first day of clinical in the hospital. During Maternity.  Being the Greenest of the Green.  I was placed in a room with a laboring mother, her knowing little of English.  And against such barriers I was able to provide comfort and care, to which I was asked specifically to remain throughout her birthing process.  In that moment, I felt like I knew next to nothing.  But I utilized the knowledge I had and gave my best to provide safe, and effective care, and it made all the difference.
So, considering that rhetorical question, and do everything in your power to hit that moving target called excellence.  As you move forward in this program, and work with this wonderful faculty who will push you in every way imaginable; Think critically, breathe deep, and aim high.

Thank You.

Of Stardust and Sand

When I was young. There was a song I used to know.  

It lightened me up and made me glow.

As I grew, it's tune did change, 

and I discovered the clarity of it's full range.

The days continued to flow. 

and the strength of it's tune challenged me and made me grow.

"Man is born free," it used to say to me.  

"Equal and free. Born into dignity."

Every one born with reason and conscience. 

In the land of the Dream; full of hope and of promise.

But that dream; it turned sour, 

As the men who touted it fell abuses of fame and of power.

That song all but faded, 

It's true meaning no longer bolstered, nor paraded.

The tune diminished in sound, 

As the deep beats of fate marched it into the ground.

For the boy from the beginning is now but a man.

Made of only his wits, stardust and sand.

Why it Matters (Pt. 2)

When I could receive internet connection, I remember spending time reading the posts of someone I had met at camp four years earlier.  His writing expressed vulnerability; of being honest with himself, and others.  He wrote on coming out, his struggles with faith (by-the-way he was originally on track for seminary) -- a lot of nuances that were uncomfortably open and "shocking" to innocent me at the time.  At first, I thought, "That will never be my life".  Yet, his writings gave me a different perspective. They allowed me  fanciful thoughts of a different life that could be possible.

Freedom.

Being yanked out of Peace Corps service threw me downstream without a paddle.  I had little to my name, shoulders burdened by loss, confusion, and doubt, and no particular place to go.  So, I did as any good gold-miner would do, and headed for Oregon.  I began to dig a new life; a new identity.  I discovered a few diamonds amidst a lot of coal; friends who expanded my world and opened my eyes to new bubbles of existence.  They didn't know my past, though I did divulge some, but helped me discover who I was, and what I could become.  I stayed up reeeeeally late to go out with coworkers and play 'dare or dare'. I went naked hiking/sunbathing with Alex, Travis, and their friends.  I went on biking adventures with Megan and Justin, and listened to Jacob's intellectual rants about philosophy, art, and music.  I, for the first time, witnessed a committed, loving [gay] partnership, up-close and for the first time through Chet and Craig.  I went on dates. I had my first kisses. I met a boy, who, inadvertently, showed me what it feels like to fall for someone.

Love.

It's 2015.  A week ago, a ruling was given that again changes the possibilities and the potential course of my life.  I've pondered endlessly about the sacrifices people have made before me to make, what I will someday get to enjoy, a reality.  It's a different life then I was expecting, but it is a good one.  When I asked myself, "Why should I continue to write?"  I think back to that lost, broken and confused, twenty-something in Africa, reading years-old blogposts from someone that I met one time.  I remember what it meant to hear someone's vulnerability and be able to relate. To find hope.  So, if my words can help just one person on their way to the happiness, the pride, and freedom that I have found in being alive, then that's why

It matters.

Why It Matters (Pt. 1)

I have tended towards being an open and honest human for the majority of my life.  I don't like to hide things, or at least haven't since I graduated high school.  Most of my friends and family will tell you that I divulge (or seek to discover) the deepest parts of myself more often then maybe warrented.

However, there have been many secrets I have kept from select groups of people for long periods of time:

My being bullied through out my primary, junior high, and high school years,
My suicide attempt,
My sexuality,
My depression,
My loss of faith,

Not because I was never willing to discuss them, but because I never felt they were important to share unless directly asked...


I lay in the sun.  Trying to recover after experiencing another crippling panic attack from trying to walk to the market to buy groceries.  I couldn't get past the second road marker.  "Iwona will be here tomorrow, seeing a familiar face will help--she'll talk some sense into me," I thought to myself. Iwona was a Peace Corps Volunteer, like myself, but seemed somehow hardier.

Tougher.

This was the fifteenth panic attack in the last week, since moving to site. I needed some form of peace-of-mind.  I entered my closet and picked up the copy of Jesus Calling my mom insisted I bring with me.  I had tried several times earlier to read the bible I had brought but it's words were too dry, to cerebral.  I needed encouragement;

Conversation.

I remember in church being constantly told that American culture was too ernest, too productivity-centred, too noisy, to hear God's voice.  That I, as someone seeking to Hear, needed to find time to be  still, quiet--seeking.  This was the perfect time to truly listen for it.  Kilometres from 'civilisation', minimal distractions, and open sky.  So, I did.  I prayed, I sat in silence, I wandered in the wilderness. Sought peace and the Voice of God, and found;

Silence.

It was devastating. My faith had been a cornerstone of my life for so long.  It kept my chin up when I was continually punched in the gut, and name-called, and isolated relentlessly.  It guided and focused my healing process after losing hope.  It exposed me to the injustices of the world and gave me reason to push for change and the future.  It also made me cry myself to sleep at night; praying that I could be someone, something, different then I was; wishing beyond wishes that the roof would fall in on me so that I would no longer exist and find peace from the internal turmoil that was me vs. what the bible said people like me were.

Sinner.

Love Wins

May love's pure light come to you in a time of fettered uncertainty.

May it cling to you with an enveloping brilliance you've never before experienced,

or may ever experience again.

Let it show you the way forward,

guiding you in the best of times and the worst of times.

Let it find you in the places where you feel overlooked.

So that you can say, "if love can come to a man like me, it can come to someone like you."

A Rushing Flood, A White Water Bloom

There is an incredible thought forming in my mind.

A deep, dark and maddess within me; the fear of being left behind.

Slow and steady, foot by foot. To let it go, you have to keep moving.

Marching on, one foot in front of the other.

This road is long, and I hope it leads to heaven

'cause right now it seems to run straight through miles of clouded hell.

This is what I meant, when that I said that I was spent and I never wanted to let you down.

I'm sorry, so sorry if I let you down, it's not what I intended.

But our best laid plans slip away between shaken and feeble hands.

I know you don't understand, I don't always myself, but I can't change who I am.

You might not like me anymore, I'm not completely like I was before.

This house didn't burn down slowly, so I was forced to sell.

I try, but always seem to break, cause this uphill battle always lasts so long.

but this is me, this is my love, this is where I have to sleep.

The rain will fall again, this I know, and the sun to shine again.

It brings life; strength and power.

Bringing with it a rushing flood, a white water bloom.

Please, don't you worry!

All these problems aside, I think you taught me well.

Ghosts, though they come, howling, continuing to reappear

I've been given the torch, that leads lost souls from fear.

Passing the wondering eyes of the ones who choose to be left behind.

Turning my back to the sea, now painted red with sorrow

I face the mountains once stacked with fear.

I will climb and stand atop that mountain

To overcome the creatures that lurk below in the dark

cause he's the king and I desire to be the Lionheart.

Good Beginnings

Its good beginnings that make a positive difference. It's our Birthings that matter.
How we begin to perceive our bodies own abilities
Events that shake and shape us,
To feel our first impressions of the greater, wider world.

Naturally placed upon us, or thrown upon us like a knife in surgery
Trials are the reformers that we lack.
Having done away with rites and rituals, how do we draw that line in the sand
and cross over to the new Us?

Good god, let me give you my life.
Used to everyone's disapproval, this is all I can do.
When my back is sore from the labours.
Trying to keep the starving faithful in their stables

If there's one thing that I've learned, it's the comeback
It's not in the fall, you have to reach for it all.
We were born sick they say, creatures of darkness and treachery.
Pagans of the good-times.

Command me, Command me to be well
Only then I can be clean, can I be faithful.
How was I to know?
I hate to see hearts break

If there is one thing for me to learn, it's humility
Not that tomorrow will bring me new opportunities
The cold reality's that nothing is there for me.
I'm not scared to hurt anymore, I'm scared I won't feel the pain.

He is...

He is often in transit, place to place, person to person, experience to experience.

Restless, he tries to live on many levels at once.

Contradiction appears to be his sustenance. His modes of expression are polar.  Whatever he is feeling, his first instinct is to disguise it. 

In a constant tug of war between wanting to go experience everything right now and "whoa, I need to process what just happened," he loves to be at the party but a party with contemplative people alternating between being crazy and discussing the meaning of life.

He abhors schedule and will not be prisoner to the clock.  Rarely will he take meals at set times or be regular on sleeping and waking, regularly forgetting his physical needs exist. 

Routine suppresses his energy and when subject to it may become restless and argumentative. Keep him guessing, he is piqued by uncertainty. This constantly stresses out friends who don't like straying from the original plan.

He owns the gift of gab, flirting between subjects and topics. Although his restlessness is evident in his conversation, he adores words, preferring them as weapons.  He tries to speak with a special glitter and radiance. Unfortunately, gossip intrigues him. Weighing in with scathing comments, especially in the sphere of morality. Don't take it too seriously though, this isn't an indicator of overall opinion.  His are situational and entirely different based on background.

Honest to a T, he tries to keep it tactful but real.  He would never intentionally lie, whatever he tells you he absolutely means and believes in that moment, but hold him to his word and keep up with reminding him, cause he's likely to forget a promise a few days later.

Debate excites him. He doesn't have to be right, though he will argue like he does, it's the process that gives him the trill.  Some resistance, some form of protest must be given before he can be satisfied and feel there is victory. Though people often confuse his need to process things out loud with either a search for advice or the search for argument.

Free flowing and spontaneous, highly volatile at times, he seems. He desires the impression of magnetism, to seem fascinating and many-sided, intellectual and wise.  He may feel, rather, to have lack of control and painfully aware of how people react, and perceive him.

His enthusiasm draws him thin, enterprising on many things.  Launching many projects with great initiative out the gate, he struggles to stay on course. Boring to quickly, he will have thousands of ideas he's like never to follow up on. Once the main thrust of a challenge has been met he, unfortunately, begins to look for the next challenge, something new and different. 

Intellect and imagination are as important to him as realism and practicality; interested in a wide range of experiences, from classical concerts to your neighborhood roller rink, he has to mix things up.  

Eager to take blame on himself, he does not do well with failure, triggering depressed emotions. Failure, it seems, confirms his secret feelings of inadequacy.  This cyclothemia is short lived, as another interest zooms in to send his emotions soaring once again.

He is a hard worker, an unstoppable force of productivity and creativity, for the short stretch of twenty minutes. A mental challenge encourages his best work.  Though play trumps work anytime. He begrudgingly accepts Peter Pan as his proposed spirit animal.  

Within him wells deep curiosity and fascination with story.  He may ask you a million questions without realizing how intrusive they may seem and beg for the most telling stories.  However, hold some information in reserve, mystery is tantalizing and indicates secret depth. Remember, he is eternally curious.

He loves love and will take it wherever he can find it, gravitating to new strangers often, the stranger the better. Touch and time are his modes of expression. A bear hug or a meaningful conversation means the world to him.  He will pull one into conversation, overflowing with ideas and interesting experiences, attempting to get them laughing as soon as possible. Unfortunately this can mean everyone thinking he's flirting with them, all the time.

Unbreakably calm and laid back his actions are often confused as indecision.  Rather, it is the time spent with him, more then the activity that means something.  However, he will express his lack of desire to participate in an activity he doesn't like.  

Extremes or fanatical conviction in religion or politics turn him off.  He is liberal and tolerant by nature, able to see multiple sides to any question. Narrow or close-minded people won't go far with him. However, he owns surprisingly strong in opinions and beliefs despite his easy-going nature.

He needs significantly more alone time then other extroverts, he wants to be alone, but, ya know, with other people nearby. He is fiercely independent, but bored without company.

Stubborn beyond belief, he may bite off more then he can chew... and continue chewing, because plot and because he is a walking contradiction in almost every way but wouldn't change a thing, even if he could.

Messy People

I love messy people.  The type of people who don't always have their shit together.
The ones with vices. Who, in whatever they lack, make up for in unadulterated realness.
A rawness, carved out by the chaos of the life that surrounds them.

I love people the people that stick out.
The ones who don't always choose the "correct" path.  The ones with unwavering convictions and an integrity all their own.

I love grey people.  The ones who would never claim to have "the answer".  The ones that always question, always observe, always yearn to learn. They, who don't think in black and white but try to understand.

I love people who dissolve convention and model different standards.  The ones who speak with words wrought with colour and intensity.  The ones who seek truth in art, and let music guide their soul. The sparks of creativity in an increasingly desolate world.

I love broken people.  Strong in their own ways, but may need a leg up.  The ones who've seen things unspeakable and yearn to never see another without a smile one their face.  They, who remind me that the fires that soften the oldest potato are the same flames that harden the egg.

I love those who love because it's the only thing they have left.  The ones who are just a little bit naive but don't let it get them down.

I love....

Setting Fire

I stand in a precarious spot.  A middle ground, where I have a voice but do not know how to use it.
I am White. I am Male. I have lived a life of relative privilege.

Yet I see injustice. I see the pain of Black brothers and sisters. I have first-handedly witnessed the micro-aggressions and even the out right racism shown against them.  I want to scream in rage towards people's outright hatred and smash the well-meaning ignorance that plagues many people I call 'friend' in their faces.

But sometimes I am a pawn in the game. Sometimes, I don't stand up when I should. Sometimes, I let the little things slip by.

Why is it White folk only pay attention when they fear they have something to lose or until it can no longer be ignored?!  Willing to turn our backs to the troubles of our fellow humans until there is a corpse lying on our doorstep!  

I am undone. Trying to put it all together, where do I fit into this mess.  I woke up this morning White.  I will never know what it means to feel the weight of the scientifically simple, genetic disposition to a higher count of melanin. The one that socially bears the weight of millennia of oppression.

I watch fat, wind-bagged old men say there is no Institutional Racism.  What more blatant example is there then a Black Commander in Chief too caught up in the middle ground to say much else then there "are good people on all sides of this debate" and "respect the rule of law"!? Of course there are well-meaning people on the side of white supremacy, thats the banality of Evil -- the Devil wears the prettiest, most appealing of smiles.

I witness the challenge my friends have born trying to narrate racial rage, racial pain, racial fear, in the hopes that White folks with understand. I don't know that burden first hand but I've seen the resentment when it turns up in failure. I feel the anger that they have to do it in the first place!

I am guilty. Of times of ignorance, inaction, and anger, so much anger.  Especially, towards the faith system I once believed in so much.  How can a group of people who proclaim to be so rooted in LOVE be so grounded in things that are so not LOVE. Teachings that are so far from the truth and turn a blind eye if not promote so many awful things; sexism, homophobia, intolerance of other belief systems, economic disparity and greed, military atrocities just to name a few.  When will people learn that their political party promotes nothing to do with their GOD?

I am saddened that I have felt joy at the thought of one day seeing the faces of some people who believed themselves to be so rooted in the name Jesus have his back turned on them, even if I am one to join them.

I have censored myself for so long. Unwilling to set a flame to burn against me, especially if I don't feel I have as strong an argument to throw water back on it.  What honour or dignity is left in that? I can't stay quiet any longer for fear of man. I can no longer silently hear people scoff "Ha, that's a fly-over continent.", about a place that has taken so much of my heart....

My mind wants peace but my heart wants justice. Yet... "How can we obey the 'rule of law' when it holds its foot against our neck while pleading with us to affirm the path to our own destruction? Humans can only be kicked in the stomach for so long, bullied for so long before one day they stagger to their feet, and you see reflected back at you, the results of your own unresolved monstrousness."

I do not know they answer. All I can see is dark days ahead if we remain complacent and inactive.

Half of It

You watched me grow, setting fire with passion.
I guess you saw me bleeding, but you had no idea what I'd been needing
Talking and talking about when we were children, I'm no longer the kid that you believed in.

Yeah, you've read what I've been writing, but that's just the half of it
Yeah, you heard it from them, rumours and gossips.
So, here's my hanging, dirty laundry, and you're entitled to your own opinion.
Go ahead, sit and shake your head at my decisions.

I know the pictures you see make it seem like I'm always winning, but they're just the half of it
Oh, I know, I can be the life of the party
Beautiful people, I get them to surround me
Big and small, all kinds, I just want them to love.

But you know me, but thats just the half of me
Everyone thinks that I'm crazy, for the things that I've done
No matter how hard I try, sticks and stones they still get to me
I wish I was the type that don't give a f*$#.

But thats just the half of it, the half of me.

Lowborn - A Reflection

So, there is this little band that I came to love some ten years ago now. Their intricate lyrics and music found a way to speak to me when I needed encouragement, inspiration, or simply a wake up call and their talent even inspired my desire to play bass (Thanks Deon!). Sadly, they are dissolving the band at the end of this year (and I gladly got to see them one more time in Portland!) but before they do that, they recently came out with a final album, Lowborn.

aaand, yet again, they managed to theme a lot of the thoughts and events that have been surrounding my life at the moment.

Entitlement: Since returning from my time abroad, I have kept in my conscious mind the notion that I am not owed anything, except the chance to work with my two hands, and even that can be taken from me.  I have tried to focus on not taking my time for granted, and not seeking endless entertainment.  It may seem depressing, but it is rather freeing; I am nothing and the world owes me nothing. I can build and give or I can consume and destroy. If I am only about me, then I am Consumer...

I love how Stephen Christian put it : "If all you are is just what you want, then you are the destroyer."

- We Are Destroyer

Personal Responsibility: Taking responsibility for what we do has become a cultural deficit.  We think placing blame on another; parents, government officials, circumstances, etc, for our actions somehow staves off the consequences.  It's not simply the owning up to my mistakes, but it creates character and upstanding. Of course things may be, and feel, bad for a time, but that's the nature of consequences. They are balancers, equalizers.

- Armageddon

From Afar:  I don't relate to this song as completely as I think the lyrics are getting at, but I understand the feeling of caring for someone from afar.  Wanting to be able to be more for/with someone but not being able to for reasons beyond your control.

- Stranger Ways

Failure and Overcoming Fear:  For most of my life I've lacked confidence, from my abilities to my identity, and for so long if stopped me from living!  Then it dawned on me [or maybe even smacked me in the face, one might say ;) ]  'Who cares?!'  Who cares what other people think? Who cares if I fail from time to time? Who cares if I die, as long as it's doing something meaningful?

I'm not going live under the fear of other's judgements, I'm not going to miss out anymore.  So here's a velvet covered brick to smash the glass walls that surround you!

- Velvet Covered Brick

Experience:  You have to read every line of this song.  Each line is pretty plain in how it reads for me.  I have been so many places, met so many amazing people, some I may never see again. I've loved strongly the places where I have lived, and got lost in the swirls and depths of moments.  I've fallen in love, and walked in difficult places. I'm tired of going it alone but I've got to keep my heart of where I'm headed

- Atonement

The Past and Regret: If there's one good thing that I have learned to do over the years, it is to never look back.  The past holds nothing for you once you have moved on from it. It's good to remember from time to time the good but not to fixate and hold onto it.  Memories are just memories, nothing more, they can't sustain you, only do you harm.  I've come to never regret my decisions. They are made and done, I can learn from them or live with the consequences of them but I refuse to suffer for them; I won't let them circle around me like birds of prey, waiting for me to fall.

- Birds of Prey

Being a Dreamer: There's a lot to be unsure of.  I can't count the multitudes of times I've just stood back being utterly perplexed with what to do next.  But I've tried to keep high hopes and even loftier dreams for myself.  I've tried to aim high and it's always lead me to some interesting adventures and outcomes.  Rarely is it easy. The number of times I questioned if it was worth it, that I left everything I knew, my mom and dad and brother, for this?!  I've lost what felt like 'it all" but through the hard times I'll continue to work hard cause, so far, I've gotten to see the other side every time, and it was worth it!

- Losing It All

Conflict and Faith:  I feel like I am continuous burdened by conflicting thoughts, of morality and the proper way to live, on caring for others and caring for oneself.  Constant struggle with what I believe to be right and good in my head and the ache of watching others do differently.  Those who want to see heaven are unwilling to make the sacrifices possible to have it be achieved here, on earth.  Those that believe in god or want to know god but continue to live as if he doesn't exist.  I may never find the answers but I will continue to struggle with the questions and live and justly and with integrity for myself and for others the best I can in this world of all shades of grey.

- Hearing Voices

The Forewarning: This part of the post some people might not be able to contend with. But it is what it is....

In Stephen Christian's post about this song he wrote that he wanted it to be the lyrical explanation of why he was stepping away from band life.  It beautifully fit with stuff that I have journeyed through over the last twoish years...

"There comes a time in everyone's life" where they "pain to feel free".  When they're tired of being told how to feel and believe and have to discover the truth for themselves based off the life-experience they hold. That seed was planted three years ago before I left for Kenya. My experience there helped form and solidify what had been festering for my entire life.  With all these reasons, seasons, and time:

It was time, to let the wound.

When I came out there were many mixed expressions of sentiment from people in the Body that I had grown in.  Some came together, we came together and found peace. Others berated me with letters, telling me I was an other, that my life's work was worthless, that I was unworthy of a Love no one is worthy of.

I didn't fully want to step away, but I had to.  I couldn't live with the weight of expectation, of gossip, of condemnation. I didn't want to go, but I knew I had to.  I wanted to be remembered in a different light, but that wasn't allowed to glow.

It took some hermitage, and a whole lot of emotional support but now my life is electric, full of life and I can "look back with a lighter soul."

- Harbinger

Love and Other Simple Things

I wanna know what'd it would be like to find perfection in my worldview.
To be blinded by pride that comes with never having stepped outside my little box.
To see nothing in the light.
To turn it off and never analyze the things I've held most strongly to.

The funny thing about growing is you can't just turn it off.
In my year and a half in Oregon, I've had to reanalyze things a million times over.
And I've found some amazing things. Both dark and painful, beautiful and full of hope.

The worst part is that, before things get better, often times it takes a solid fall off a cliff.  The Free Fall was muddling through all that Africa taught me, about justice, and freedom and of mortality.
Through it all however, I've realized that I'm better off for hitting the bottom.  It lends a new perspective, only being able to look up.

There was a lot of tragedy for others that seemed unending which joined the Free Fall. I watched many that I looked up to bend and others break, taking shortcuts and attempting false solutions, simply to keep face, and come out looking like the hero.  I discovered how shallow morality and being 'upstanding' can be when it's faced with the hardness of life.  I got glimpses of what's behind the curtain, saw the people behind the masks they'd been wearing.

I've come to appreciate people as the sum of who they are, past mistakes and all. It's wrong the way we've been working, hiding who we are to save "Face".

That's what true love is. People say they know it, I've come to believe most don't, or at least don't know how to demonstrate it.  It's not forcing others to meet your "standards", but caring for them, seeing them as an equal.

 Human.

No matter how they differ from oneself.
It's a shame we remain such fragile broken things.  Butterflies with punctured wings, floundering in the mud.

What a mystery we've made of Love and other things.

A Tuesday Kind of Person

I've always liked Tuesdays but Tuesday is a day that is often taken for granted.  It isn't a particularly special day of the week so it can be left out and forgotten.  Most people recognise Monday as the dreaded start of the week. Friday's are of course the "let it all hang out" end to the week and we all know why weekends are awesome.  Heck even Thursday gets "Throwback Thursday."

But Tuesdays? People are relatively indifferent about Tuesdays.

Yet, Tuesday is the kind of person I want to be.  Tuesday in some languages literally means to come second.  In a culture where everyone strives to come in first, pushing others towards the bottom, I want to be ok with coming in second.  I desire to put others before myself.  I don't want to be the one that stops the world from spinning, just the one to love in a way that isn't indulgent, but keeps others grounded in spite of the uncontrollable spinning of this life.

Tuesday is a realistic philosopher. I want not to delude myself with fantasies of the future or create ambitions that are unsustainable.  Rather, to dream little dreams, and create little schemes that don't make the here and now become inconsequential.  I want to breathe relevance into monotony, to take colourless instances and make them vibrant.  I want to get easily wrapped up in directionless conversations about what happened five years ago that makes today experiences important. To be so full on someone else's words, there isn't room for anything else.

I want to do things for the enjoyment of the things themselves not for who might be watching.

Named after the Norse god of justice, and forward thinking, Tuesday is the bridging day. I want to be the connecting point between others, or between people and their dreams.  I want to be someone who does not forget what lay behind but also keeps an eye on what is to come, and what possibilities humanity can have. To make changes for the sake of making things better, not for show or recognition.

"Tuesday's child is full of grace" as the saying goes.  And while it would be nice to live in simplistic elegance, I want to live in a state of being considerate and thoughtful.  And while its necessary to celebrate and forget temporarily, I don't want to live there forever.
When the laze and haze of the weekend has worn thin and seems more distant than ever, I want to have a Tuesday kind of being.

Just like you.

You have done nothing but coerce us into the shadows.  Preaching out "all are sinners", and "no sin is greater than another." Yet you scrawl accusation across our brows, and pull your hand away if any of us reach out for help.

You've simply branded us with a brilliant, flowing, rainbow-colored "scarlet" letter.  Labelled us not as friend. Not as son. Not as sister;

Sinner.

Yet you don't take the time to know us. You don't spend time with us. We are simply something foreign. Something different, an Other. There, it seems, for you to tame, to remedy and to "save".

Keep your condescending love. You bleat "all are welcome here" but, it seems, we're the ones you reserve the right to constantly remind us of our status.

Sinner.

You decide not to get your hands dirty, you refuse to affirm our humanity.
We are not pawns to be used in you political debates! This is not a cultural war, its a simple fight to be seen as what we are. We are people.

We love. We hope. We cry. We pray.

Just like you.

Listen to your own philosophy! Stop telling us that sin is our deepest identity. Stop condemning us. Stop choosing Principle over Grace.

So that in the end, when you come to us and ask us "Why?"
We don't have to say, "I came to you, but you turned your back on me and did nothing."

Because in the end we remember, not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends...

Anniversary: Aim High

To recall all that has happened in my life this year it almost impossible to believe. I started the year off dancing the morning away on the coast of one of the most spectacular and awe-inspiring countries in the world and I ended it in the Great Northwest of the United States, a completely different person, in a completely different direction in life.

There were many amazing life lessons scattered in between then and now but the greatest, and hardest lesson to cope with was coming to understand was what it truly means to be affraid.

When I left for the Peace Corps I was full of ambitions and expectations. A had thirst for adventure and self-discovery. Above all I was eager. I wanted to be tested. I wanted to prove that I had what it took to be more or less self-sufficient. That I could rough it, and struggle and make a difference. I wanted to prove that I was ready to be a man. I had direction.

When I arrived I saw so many things.  I saw the deepness of life, and the joys of self-sacrifice. I found solace in the arms of strangers and witnessed true brokenness, true darkness. I witnessed death. Yet through it all I was safe behind that damnable curtain of safety and certainty and the belief that none of this could happen to me. I had a safety net, I was different, I was other.

And suddenly at the drop of a fist all that changed.

With perfect clarity, I understood the nature of my mortality.
I knew fear.

If could get mugged, If I could get beaten, anything could happen to me. I could die tomorrow. And at first it was difficult, I didn't want to go anywhere, do anything. Anxiety coursed through my body at the littlest things. I wanted to simply dwell inside my room. Inside the safety of my little world or even to simply escape into the created fantasies of others through books or television.  But I was still dying, just slowly. Bit by bit, and if I didn't change I would be hollower then a rotted out tree.

So here I am. One year later.

I've taken steps and risks and made huge changes.  I've applied to some of the most prestigious nursing schools in the country and I'm working with the coolest, most broken kids imaginable. Above all I'm living my life true to myself.

I'm not where I imagined I'd be a year ago, but I'm ok with it.
Have I aimed high? You bet.

But I plan to aim higher.