As It Should Be?

Dreams have never been a part of what has been included here, until this morning. Last night was a first of its kind and unusual in a very important way.

Mostly I have dreams where I might know others in the dream, but I am rarely 'myself' in it. I had a frightening dream about our daughter a few nights ago. In that dream, I was a doctor in some unfamiliar setting where our daughter had been injured. It scared me so much that I was unable to go back to sleep until I had sent off an email asking her to let us know everything was all right. She is fine thank you, although I was very unsettled until I established that fact.

From last night's dream all that is left is a few fragments, but what I do remember is that in that significant dream, I was myself. I was with my family (the kids were a lot younger) visiting a museum of some sort in an unfamiliar city. We were having a good time. So what is so special to mention? Well, as I say in the dream I was myself. That is quite different. But not only that, I was female and myself. There was a shock of realization (a lucid dream all of a sudden), that things were not as they usually are, and then I checked my 'dream self' out, and realized everything was fine. I hadn't forgotten to put on my skirt or some such thing… everything was, as it should be.

When I had that unsettling dream about our daughter being injured, my sweetie reminded me that dreams do not come true. In that case, I was relieve to say, she was right. About last night? Hmm...

p.s. Could it be that this dream was a gift sent from an alternate self, one who transitioned? Now there is a dream worth having.

Simple Gifts

There have been a few posts in the last few days that evoke thoughts of 'why we blog'. Apart from the selfish reasons that I personally cherish (thank you to everyone who participates), now and then my mind turns to the 'lurkers' out there who I will never know. I wish you well too!

There is trouble all around right now. Beauty still exists all around too, if we look for it. Here in this paradise called Canada, we are on the brink of spring. The signs are all around us. I know many of my American friends are looking forward to spring too. Canada is not the only place in North America to feel winter's sting.

My favourite composer happens to be iconically American: Aaron Copland, creator of music that feeds the soul, in my humble opinion.

From Appalachian Spring, the tune "Simple Gifts" as only Copland could have imagined it, simple, then magnificent, and then simple again.

Photography by Ansel Adams.. unabashedly gorgeous American images.

I do not know who "jaxdriver" is, but you are like the rest of us who use the internet to share our thoughts and my thanks go out to you for putting this together and leaving it as a treasure for others to stumble upon.

He Said, She Said

"You didn't have to be that blunt about it, you know. Now I will have to make up to her somehow." My goodness, she has become hard to get along with lately. The gray hair and glasses make her look strict somehow. She always had an implied edge to her look, but now she has been taking over sometimes and, well, that edgy nature is landing me trouble.

Lounging on the couch, she glanced over the top of her glasses with a look of impatience, pursed her lips and out came; "I did have to be blunt. I had to say something otherwise you were about to go along with yet another plan that would make us miserable. It was no time for an internal conference. We needed to act." She shifted to a sitting position so she could lean toward me, saying, " I have tried to tell you in as nice a way as possible, we are important too. What we want, what we need is also a priority. If you won't accept that, what choice have you given me but to act on our behalf." wagging a finger at me she raised her voice a notch to add "and don't you dare apologize or smooth over what we said. She needed to hear it. Let her think about it and if she wants to, let her bring the subject up again so we can really discuss what matters here."

If I say that I am a "go-er along-er" do you know what it means?

It has been an 'in joke' all of my life for me to say "I live in tyranny"; a little joke that I sometimes will share with others to lighten up the moment, spoken as though I am one who is in fact quite happy to be told what to do and is making light of it.

How long have I been 'happily' submitting myself to the control of others, never considering the damage it does to one's psyche always saying "yes, of course I will do it as you want", or worse still, just mindlessly submitting to the will of another in all respects to avoid an argument.

Like all life-long habits, it is very hard to break, unless of course, you have the advantage of having an emerging part of you that has not been able to express itself for most of your life (did I just call my feminine side an advantage?).

Just like the carefully cultivated male façade, this sort of mindless 'going along for the ride' must be purged from my repertoire before I can move forward in an honest way.

A House Divided

The whole issue of gender confusion has to do with how we model ourself internally; how our brain is wired and, ultimately, how we see and conduct ourself.

Many of us relate this 'experience' as an internal division into male and female parts. I have several times in the past here, here and here. None of it is 'real' since quite obviously there is one person here. From what I can see from their reaction, others cannot tell who is 'in charge', and in fact, mostly I cannot either unless, as is the case right now, she is absent, or at other times when she is very strong. I often wonder what, if any, good comes from perceiving this internal divide? Perhaps as a gauge of my mental health?

It seems she takes little sabbaticals; abandoning me for days at a time, then reappearing, more mature and self-possessed in each case. It is very much as our friend Sophie suggested in a comment back in August this past year. Speaking from the perspective of her now female self, she used the metaphor of a little girl who sits in the back seat, wondering out loud 'are we there yet?'. Over time she matured, learned to read the map, watched the 'guy' driving and eventually learned how to drive herself, then announced one day “Pull the car over, I'm going to drive now.” I miss you Sophie and often wonder if you are well; no longer 'in the boonies'.

There is no doubt that my girl is quite capable of piloting this craft these days. She had a turn at the helm last month, and not only did just fine, she excelled; it frightens me to realized this. It makes me wonder if 'his' days are numbered, and what that means...

A Ramble on Admiration

"What a wonderful God-given talent you have!" These words have upset me over the years, when directed toward me, for many reasons, and especially when I have heard them directed toward others, for reasons I will elaborate upon. It has nothing to do with belief in God. Here is a hint. I prefer another saying: “God helps those who help themselves”.

Glib words like “you are so lucky to have such a gift” flow from the tongues of the uninformed. Such is the world for those who do not understand single-minded devotion. Striving toward ones hearts-desire is less a gift and more a (sometimes pleasant) burden. I understand that this is “preaching to the choir” for the large portion of you.

Not being a “this or that” sort of person by nature or upbringing, I have always been very conscious of shading. The kind of people who I find attractive are generally very accepting, not to mention talented and hard-working. That is not to say that I reject the idea of privilege, but rather to point out that I do not believe in hard and fast delineations. There are talented, hard working people in my world who are “somewhat privileged”. There are far too many talented and hard-working individuals who because of circumstances, cannot fulfill their potentials.

Many of my friends are highly skilled artisans. 'Gifted' with the physical characteristics, time and finances to receive training, they made the most of privilege. Understand that many thousands of hours of work went into each 'gift'. Without that energy expenditure, no number of lucky breaks would have resulted in the art they produce. 

I especially remember a school chum who for years practiced piano at least five hours a day at home, and spent every lunchtime at school for the three months before his degree performance working specifically on the third movement of Beethoven's 'Moonlight' Sonata. His fingers must have ached. At the age when most of his classmates were busy lining up their next weekend 'bash', his single-minded devotion to that craft gained him the result he most desired; a career in music and a reputation as one of the finest pianists around. How lucky is that? Luck – zero. He 'had' to do what he did. It was a choice at some point, but once he started down that path, it was simply his road. Only a major life crisis would have diverted him. As a sports celebrity once observed, “The harder I work, the luckier I get”.

It is with this in mind that I read blogs here. The devotion and sacrifice one makes to put a life right is not a 'gift'. I do not feel sorry for you or myself, any more than I did for my pianist friend, doing something you have little choice but to do. My admiration however, is quite the same.

We All Need Help Sometimes

Lately I have been feeling very down... attempts to get on with life in spite of what goes on in this somewhat addled old mind get side-tracked by the feelings of 'not trans enough', as though somehow I ever really wanted to be trans-anything! What a hoot.

That is what happens; you get doing something, like blogging, and somehow the process becomes more significant than the content.

This morning I had a lovely wake-up call from Zoë, over at “becoming Zoë”. I may just copy out the first paragraph, put it up on my 'fridge' and remind myself what it is my life should continue to be about.
Thank you Zoë. I too hope everyone can somehow get back on with living as well as they can, and wishing the same for others.
Do yourself a favor and read her post.

Hugs, 

Halle

Santa Only Brings Gifts to Good Little Girls and Boys...

Teri's article “A Lifestyle Choice” and the comments it generated (so far) along with recent events in the world have brought an idea into high relief this morning for me. Allow me to sketch it out.

World-wide communication is not the same as world-wide understanding, or world-wide equality. A people living under dictatorship understands this difference. They suffer more because they can experience a daily dose of what it is like to live in freedom via the world wide media. You cannot yearn for something that does not, never did and as far as you know, never will exist. Once you know another way to live exists, and is possible for some, it is hard to think about anything else.

As far as we know, transgender conditions have existed throughout human history, whatever the causes. The availability of the surgeries to give us the alternatives we have now have not existed for most of human history. Even though available now, there are places in the world where those options are not available, and knowing of their availability for others on the planet may cause great hardship for those who know they might have been able to 'solve' their problem, but never will as a result of accident of geography, or financial status.

Having the freedom to choose is a wonderful gift for some.

This world-wide platform to pass along “what might be” is not a gift to all. We cannot censor our reality for others. We do need to be aware of who our audience might be however. 

Recently I added a globe to my page. It has made me think more about who my family is these days. Sadly, not all the members of my family will have choices to make today. Santa really does not exist.