I used to be a biker and a skier.
When I introduced my wife to a long time friend, she said, “She must be a biker or a skier?”
My wife was a dancer.
Her friends were surprised to find out I wasn’t.
I’m white; she is black.
She was raised Muslim, and I was raised Christian.
When I was a young boy, I wanted to marry a skier.
A friend of mine married a biker.
They rode and raced together for years.
Then they divorced.
Didn’t they have the ideal relationship?
Another friend married a skier; they are unhappy.
My mom and dad were both skiers, they divorced.
What went wrong?
How come these expectations are so pervasive?
When my first wife and I got married, we were advised to see a pastor to determine our compatibility.
He asked us many things.
What our expectations were regarding church and children and how we would handle money.
The pastor determined we were compatible.
We divorced fifteen years later.
Do you know what I’ve never heard anyone ask?
“Do you know yourself?”
Relationship
Grey cloak person: Truth is subjective.
For some, black is true. For others, white is true.
The conglomeration of all truths is some obscurely dynamic shade of grey.
After years of searching for non-subjective truth, I found no-thing.
Black and white cloak person: I disagree with you there. Truth is only relevant to its believer. Your actions are based on what is best for you. In order to move forward you have opted either black or white thus far. To sit and analyze things after the fact may seem grey today, as you have grown, but at some point you followed one side or another.
Grey cloak person: You’re absolutely right. Every moment of every day I’m making decisions.
My life is a representation of all of the decisions I’ve made thus far.
There is one possibility you may have overlooked.
I no longer believe my thoughts.
Black and white cloak person: Do you really think you no longer believe your thoughts? Is that not a thought in itself? If you don’t believe it then how can I be convinced it is what you believe? Circles are easily made and lead nowhere.
Grey cloak person: I don’t believe a word I say, including the words I just said.
I agree, circles are easily made and lead nowhere.
I’m perfectly content nowhere…
“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.”
~Rumi
I was forty when I met her.
I had just met myself three years prior.
Before that, I was a lie that loved a lie.
I didn’t love what was in front of me.
I loved what I thought they could become.
They loved me equally.
When I met her,
I saw with crystal clarity,
She needed nothing,
Which is exactly what I was.
We chose each other.
Her name, Fatima,
My name, Tim,
Fa-Tim-A
Art imitating life,
We have always been together.
Life imitating art.
Our pain is so duly placed in structures that we know are hurting us and those we love.
We’re so sure our pain can be cured, if just this changed, or that.
We encounter a person working towards the same goal as us and we don’t see it. Instead, we demonize them because of their different solutions. We separate ourselves from them. Believing them to be other than what we are.
The pain is so exquisite and we have no idea why nothing fills the void we feel.
We want for clarity, sureness, and stability.
Our answers are so clear, if only people saw what we saw or knew what we knew.
We claim to be strong, to understand, to know, but down deep we still question…
The void pulls at us and we don’t dare look, for fear of what we might see.
The quiet is so painful that it’s deafening screech is desperately drowned out with anything.
Anything that will distract us.
Our books and dogs, our phones and our gods.
This is how we flee.
Emptiness abated.
I’m a man.
This was my world…
Unattainable needs and desires.
Pushed and persuaded by twisted ideologies.
Simplistic sexual relationships.
Liquor, the elixir.
Greed, paramount.
Complacency, a goal.
Apathetic about my apathy.
Shiny cars adorned with large breasted women.
Boats with blonds stretched out across their bows.
Friends whispering syrupy gossip about each other.
Relationships with God were similar to relationships with Santa Clause
Rudolph’s gleaming red nose, stretching longer and longer.
I grew up in a world where we applauded the skillful, lying politician.
The paramount concern was profit over people.
I grew up in a world where men with feelings were sissies.
I grew up in a world where shrinks were only for quacks.
I grew up in a world where I was told everyone had the same opportunities.
The only obstacle was your willingness to pull yourself up by the boot straps.
I too became a lier, with the proficiency of a politician.
I lied about who I was and where I was going. I lied to those who I loved because I loved a lie.
All the teachers I knew lived this lie.
The syrupy sweet lie.
An entire culture dependent on ignoring the… in the living room.
I am a man.
I’m on a path of recovery.
Will you recover with me?
Male complacency is becoming common place.
Men, we can be so much fuller than we are.
Woman changed their world, so can we.
They are taking on roles of leaders, care takers, and policy makers.
But there’s still so much oppression! I see that.
I’d argue the oppression will not cease by continuing to solely make women stronger. Males need to evolve too. Males and females are one. One does not exist without the other. We can’t expect to achieve the peace and equality we all desire, and disregard one of the sexes.
Many now regard females as the superior sex. They’re evolving at a rate that’s leaving men befuddled and scratching their heads.
What’s key to understand is that women’s liberation is connected to male liberation. Until men are understood to be equally worthy and capable by women, and men themselves, the imbalance and inequality we fight against will continue.
The hit television show, The Simpsons, expresses the imbalance that I’m referring to.
Homer Simpson’s boss, Mr. Burns, the megalomaniacal oppressor, represents the archetype of the industrious insidious male. The archetype that women’s rights and feminism was born from and revolted against.
This isn’t the archetype we want to model. I think most of us are in agreement on that.
Even the show depicts Mr. Burns as old and out of fashion.
Which is good, right?
Yes, but…
The problem is what the men have evolved into.
Homer Simpson represents the lovable, yet low level, knuckle dragging buffoon, who hasn’t surrendered to his biological inferiority and is still fighting the un-winnable fight.
Bart Simpson is the apathetic, lazy, and cynical deviant. The product of a culture that’s so mired in apathy, there’s no expectation for him to be anything but his deviant self.
These are the male archetypes we as society have resigned ourselves to: the incompetent, naughty male with little to no emotional intelligence, or the old fashion dictatorial male oppressor. This is so thoroughly pervasive in contemporary society that “male bashing” slips past the lips like bigotry in the era of Rosa Parks and M.L.K.
I hear these archetypes thoughtlessly reinforced every day. Mothers proudly referencing their successful daughters saying gleefully, “Well, she is a girl!” or expressing the same sentiment, tainted with sullen apathy, with regard to their sons, “Well, you know boys.”
I see grown men, mired in their own shame, propagating these cultural archetypes. Laughing off their stereotypical low level development looking for a sympathetic, there, there. You can see they’re ashamed of their essence.
It reminds me of a tendency I used to have. I’d hold the door twice as long for a black person. Trying to subtly say, I’m sorry.
I was so confused.
In the face of black, I was ashamed of white.
Primarily because I was so disconnected from the culture I was trying to empathize with. It took me years to see black culture and history for what it was, vital and beautiful. While simultaneously maintaining my own sense of personal vitality and beauty.
This is what men need to do with regard to women. Raise them up. See them, honor them, embrace their power, and honor their history and plight. Teach your sons. Teach them to treat women like they are powerful and elegant queens.
Women, recognize your part too. Don’t play the role of victim. Encouraging this negative perception of men will only hold you down. Embrace your men. Honor their strength. Empathize with their fear of emotions and the legacy that’s demanded that of them. Teach your daughters that the strong alpha males are the boys who brave their emotions. Teach your daughters to build up their men, not tear them down. Teach them to treat their men as wise, noble kings.
I heard a story on NPR years ago that’s worth acknowledging. The piece was focusing on the negative relationship of boys and virtual reality. The first part of the story discussed gaming. The findings suggested boys were more motivated by their virtual environments than by physical and social connections. The motivation and accolades from sport and academics paled in comparison to the motivation and achievements made in the hierarchical structure of their virtual gaming world, a world with very few girls. Which ties directly to the second aspect of this story, boys didn’t seem interested in real girls. They had their needs met by the perfectly polished girls who were at their beck and call in the virtual world. No social expectations, no hair out of place, every dream and physical variety indulged on demand. The boys talked about being grossed out by real girls.
The doctor doing this study found the girls’ response alarming. Less than fifty percent of girls saw themselves wanting to get married. When asked why, the girls exclaimed, “Would you want to marry them?!”
These dark aspects of society have been exemplified in the movies, Kids and Super Bad.
Both disturbing depictions of male development in the modern era.
So what’s the point of this?
Half of humanity is dying on the vine.
We are all familiar with the Yin Yang symbol, which is referred to as Taijitu in Taoism. A symbol of harmonic symbiotic balance, the Yin, the female; the Yang, the male.
A symbol of the cosmic interplay of balance.
We are out of balance, males and females.
The symbolism of the Taijitu, with its profound wisdom, can guide us, males and females, into balance and higher states of consciousness.
The Taijitu is representative of all manifest reality and the interplay of balance that is forever occurring.
To understand the Taijitu you need to understand what it represents.
Nothing has meaning without its opposite
There is no light without dark.
There is no life without death.
Short is meaningless without long.
The only way to recognize peace is by knowing war.
Manifestation is held in balance and recognized by its opposition.
Yin Yang…
That’s relatively easy to see.
What’s less clear is the space surrounding the Taijitu. It is the source of creation and potentials, un-manifested and un-realized.
The Taijitu is nothing without the space surrounding it.
Just as humanity is nothing without everything surrounding it.
That space represents the vastness of creation, the source of Taijitu.
Waking up to your connection with this source is the path to your liberation.
In this “waking up”, everything becomes clear.
A rebirth.
An entirely new state of consciousness.
Men aren’t threatened by powerful women and powerful men don’t threaten.
Your bliss is my bliss.
Your power is my power.
Your equality is my equality.
Clarity in oneness.
Raise your boys and girls from this state of consciousness.
We are becoming more aware and full as our consciousness continues to expand.
That’s a difficult thing to do.
Growing is always hard.
I grew up in a Methodist family. It seemed like Lutherans were essentially the same as us. The Christians that spoke in tongues and baptized adults in local lakes and river seemed odd. Catholics, weren’t good. No one actually said that to me, but that’s what was implied.
Although I’d heard of them, I didn’t know any Jews or anything about the them aside from this strange notion that they were the chosen people, whatever that meant.
Muslims? I didn’t know that was a thing.
There were a hand full of black people in my school. Actually, most were biracial. One, that I know of, was adopted. As far as I knew, they were raised just like me, why wouldn’t they be? My grandpa called certain Christmas nuts, nigger toes. My first job, we were told, you can have Martin Luther King Day off, if you’re black. No one was. Black jokes were just as common as blonde jokes.
We knew a handful of Mexicans, they were cool. We had tacos once a week, but I didn’t like the hot sauce.
Russians were scary. They wanted to hurt us. We practiced hiding under our desks in case they tried.
I didn’t even know gay was a thing…
That pretty much sums it up.
Oh, we’d get Chinese food sometimes; Chicken Chow Mein and Egg Foo Young. I didn’t like it very much, but the fortune cookies were fun.
Maybe I represent an extreme, I’m not sure. I’m sure many people had more diverse upbringings than I did. But, I bet most of us wouldn’t have to go back many generations to find the cultural norm that I was raised with. I’m sure this continues to be the norm for many today.
I remember being jealous of friends who had gay friends. I wanted to be diverse. I also remember being called gay when I did have gay friends. It didn’t take long before I was overtly exclaiming that I liked girls to people I’d meet.
While a senior in high school, I remember referring to a person as mulatto and being harshly corrected. I didn’t know it was derogatory. It took me years to find out why.
Aside from Canada, I was 23 the first time I left the United States. I went to Cabo San Lucas. It was fun, but the ocean was cold. The Mexicans seemed nice. Honestly, I didn’t think about it much. I went to Europe for three months, a year later. Language and food were the biggest obstacles. This taught me to let go of very basic expectations and embrace the unknown. It was Central and South American countries that really opened my eyes. It took years to integrate everything I’d learned into any sort of cohesive understanding.
That growth process was difficult and challenging.
It took me years to see gays as no different than me.
I was forty when I met my wife. She was the first black girl I’d ever dated.
Actually, she’s biracial.
It was after our first date that I found out she’s Muslim.
It scared me.
That was hard for me to process. I didn’t have any overtly negative feelings regarding Muslims. Yet, the fear was real.
I’ll never forget, within minutes of the twin towers falling, I wondered what had we done to make someone so angry with us? That’s the way I see the world.
I typically tend to be empathetic. Possibly too much, I’m not sure.
Incidentally, this was another growth opportunity. This was the first time I realized my republican friends were saying, “How dare they do that to us!” Something entirely different than what my democrat friends were saying. Albeit, the right wing reply was a reasonable response, but a distinctly different way of viewing the world. It was then that I realized, we both needed each other.
Growth…
It was 9/11 that inspired me to explore the darker side of the political arena. This is how I began to understand how convoluted and nefarious global politics can be.
Painful realizations, though I felt fuller because of it.
My consciousness expanded.
When Fatima prayed in front of me for the first time, it frightened me at a primal root level.
I hated this.
It was, and is, difficult to acknowledge.
It honestly took me years to detach the falling twin towers from her style of prayer, a practice of selfless gratitude.
Such is the power of media and the unconscious mind.
I’ve fasted with her for Ramadan four times. Before I met her, I’m not entirely sure I’d even heard of Ramadan. Ramadan forced me to surrender my wants and needs like nothing else. This wasn’t a community or social event for me. This was my hunger and thirst. I was the one who was tired and had to slow down, letting go of my wants and needs for an entire lunar cycle. I needed to learn to pace myself and let go of my desires. I did it to support Fatima, but this was no passive exercise. It’s not that simple. I can’t tell you how many times I would empathize with the Muslim stranger on the street knowing they were likely fasting as well.
These were difficult realizations that I had to fight hard for.
Again, I was richer and fuller, but it didn’t come easy.
Fatima brought me to Eid celebrations. Again, as dumb as I feel saying this, I was surprised that they were remarkably similar to the cultural celebrations I was raised with, aside from the different costumes and food.
People laughed and made meals, in which they took great pride.
Their homes were beautifully decorated.
Everyone wore clothes they were proud of.
Still growing…
Just this year, I was explaining Fatima’s heritage to my son and I told him she was African and Italian. My intent was to embrace her African heritage. My thought was, there is no sense muddying up her African-ness with any suffix. After all, I wasn’t German American.
Fatima corrected me, “Actually, black people in the United States don’t have the privilege of knowing our heritage because our ancestors were slaves. This is why we are African American not African.”
Still growing.
Still painful.
Still hard.
Think of how far we have come as a culture.
We are all infinitely richer and fuller than our ancestors.
Think about it.
Maybe you were a raised in an entirely different culture than me, but the bigotry and prejudice was likely there, at some point, somewhere. We are all the same.
We distrust the outsider.
We are fearful of what we don’t know or understand.
This amalgamation of multiculturalism and the struggle around it, is a global phenomena.
What we are experiencing is growing pains.
Letting go of the old.
Merging with the new.
Expanding our consciousness.
It’s hard.
It takes time.
Have patience.
Be compassionate.
United we stand, divided we fall
There is an answer to the mass shootings
There is an answer to the pain and misunderstanding we all feel
It’s actually quite simple
It won’t cost you a thing
It’s something you can do today without anyone’s permission or help.
Find that person who is alone and sit with them
Listen to them
Empathize with them
Love them
Bring them into your world
We all encounter or know people who sit on the outskirts
See them
Honor them
People that are respected and loved, who feel they are a part of community, do not act out against those communities that embrace and value them.
You have the power to change the world every day
Ignore the person who is struggling and in pain and we will continue to struggle with pain.
Embrace the person who is struggling and in pain and you will abate your struggling and pain.
Help them move through their pain by valuing their essence.
Allow them an opportunity to see their self worth through your eyes.
Envision a world without a dogmatic adherence to religion, creed, color, culture, sexuality, or nationality.
Surrender your righteousness.
United we stand, divided we fall