One of the less amusing points for me to dwell on when considering my current situation in life is time. To put it succinctly, how much of it I have lost not being me. The majority of trangenders become aware of it early enough in life that they get to spend the majority of it being who they are meant to be, assuming that they survive the trauma of acknowledgement and transformation, neither of which is a guarantee. In my case, it is true that I was aware of my difference while I was a child, but a rather traumatic episode happened in my childhood causing me to suppress this. There are moments in my life that I can look back at and say, with confidence, yeah, that was ‘me’ looking out and trying to break free of the subconscious shackles. It happened in high school, the military, during my first marriage, until, finally, in my second marriage the walls came down and I was forced to face who I really was. This was and has been such an unbearably difficult process that I can’t even begin to explain it. What the crux of this commentary is about, however, is that, as painful as this is, I get to begin occupying the space I am meant to. Yet, I have lost, probably, 30 years of ‘me’. I never got to buy a prom dress. I didn’t get to wear a wedding dress. I wound up in the military in an attempt to learn how to ‘be a man’. My life was inexorably altered in a very surreal way. Time is a funny thing. I look back at my life and it feels like it was lived by someone else and I want it back. I know I was there. I made choices. Yet, it feels like I was a rider in the back of another’s mind. I was jailed and didn’t get to do many of the things I think I would have liked to. Subjective time feels like forever was spent in a lie. Subjective time feels like my future is about as long as a commercial and I have to hurry and live everything I did not get a chance to before I am too old to enjoy it. The perception of time is a highly sophisticated function of the mind that engages nearly all of the faculties of the brain. This encompasses physical sensation, sense perception, memory, the ability to craft plans for the future, emotions, and self-awareness. To explore this sense of time is a fascinating exploration of consciousness. Some of the ways in which we perceive the passage of minutes and hours is hardwired, but many more are learned behavior. It becomes not only a reflection of who we are, but also of the culture we are a part of. I know this is all very silly. I should live one day at a time and make the most of each one. I know what it is like to lose time. I lost decades.
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“This is happening for a reason.” This drives me a little crazy. Hey, I am as guilty as the next girl for making such a comment, but, when you think about it, unless you follow a faith based path and believe in predestination, this comment is as inane as saying, “monkeys actually do fly out of my butt.” No, no they don’t and no, it really isn’t. It may be true that whatever it is (shit, my project is missing the deadline!) really is happening for a reason. However, those reasons are of your own (or others) making. The situation is a consequence of choices made along the way as well as potential environmental issues. They are a maelstrom of cause and effect leading to this one inevitable moment. This moment that is a strain on your psyche causing the utterance, “this must be happening for a reason.” It is not likely that it is the result of some predetermined path of some deity that has a special plan just for you. “Your destiny is to suffer the indignities cast upon you by ignorant sleeping sheeple that can barely wake up enough to put there undies on straight!” Hmm, that doesn’t sound very sexy. Yet, when you think about it, our lives are not sexy. We want that feeling that we are special in some way; that we are going to change the world; that even if no one notices, we will be the creator or participant in some magical endeavor. However, life is no more than a series of choices that we make. This is not to say that there is no magic in the world or even that there is no possibility of some higher intelligence. I do believe there is magic, but that we make it. I do think that there is some subtle energy out there that we can tap (my version of a ‘higher intelligence’). What I think is important is that when that phrase crosses our lips, we think about our role in why a given event is happening on our watch and what our responsibility is in it. There is magic in that little work of introspection, stillness, and patience.
In my years of practice with martial arts, one of the fundamental aspects, for me, has been my practice of qigong. This is fundamentally a form of moving (usually, though at times it is standing only) meditation designed to calm the mind, strengthen the body, and help the practitioner learn the concept of the mind directs the qi and the qi directs the body. One of the most basic forms of this is called “Standing like a Tree”. The practitioner stands in a rooted (feet shoulder width apart, back straight, top of the head rising) posture with their arms out in front of them roughly at the level of their shoulder as if they were holding a large beach ball. This posture is designed to help the practitioner achieve a state known as wuji. Wuji is a compound word comprised of wu “without; no; not have; there is not; nothing, nothingness” and ji “ridgepole; roof ridge; highest/utmost point; extreme; Earth’s pole; reach the end; attain; exhaust” A translation of this in terms of qigong can be “that which has no pole” or “ultimate nothingness”. Occasionally, I am going to be prone to putting up posts that just wander around. I like to put words down and when I do that with no particular direction in mind, just a need to write, peculiar things come out. For instance, why is it that they can’t make men’s clothing as comfortable as women’s? For example, I have found that sweaters for women tend to be much softer on the skin than men’s. You think men actually enjoy rough, scratchy sweaters? Is this a test of some sort? Men used to be able to wear skirts, way back in the day, but you can’t do that now. You get your card revoked if you are not Scottish and participating in the highland games. Yet, skirts would be so much more comfortable in the summer humidity than shorts. Granted, some women’s clothing is designed as a form of torture (which does appeal to my bondage side) (corsets, bra’s, and four inch heels come immediately to mind) and others they make so thin it provides zip protection in a cold wind or so form fitting you have to be greased up and have a pit crew to get you in them.
As a late blooming transgender, I haven’t had the years of practice of most women in the arena of “freezing time” also known as “the beautification regimen”. I had no idea how time consuming this is. I wonder if the ROI on this has ever been worked out. Seriously, we need an actuary to work the numbers because the time and money invested in this doesn’t produce any sort of profit margin that I can see. Oh, I am as vain as the next girl and want nothing more than to look 28 for the rest of my life, but I fell like a chemistry experiment gone awry. All that being said, in the end, it is about being comfortable in your own skin. I am discovering these little pieces because I dared to know. I took the steps necessary to discover who I am, what I want, maybe even a purpose to pursue in life. I add my voice to the many other voices who seek truth, harmony, and the interconnectedness that is a part of being human. This chorus is carried on the wind, in the subtle energy that swarms around you, in the very genetics that make you who you are. I have spent some time playing in the backyard of an occult practice called hoodoo or conjure. For those of you not familiar with this folk magic practice, the short of it is that it is a traditional African-American folk spirituality that developed from a number of West African, Native American and European spiritual traditions. I came to this out of an exhaustion from the (to me) tedious and long winded practices of ceremonial magick, which was no longer captivating or resonating with me. I was looking for something earthier, immediate, “dirty”, practical, but more importantly, that tripped an emotional need within. Without passion, you can’t work magic. Just try being divorced from your work and see what happens. Go on, try it. See? But I digress. This really isn’t about hoodoo, it is about crossed paths. I am using hoodoo to get you going, but it is a most interesting practice and I encourage you to look it up. The crossroads is an important concept in hoodoo. It is a locus of power, similar in nature to chakras, ley lines, or Stonehenge. The exception here is that crossroads are more prevalent and available and do not require stepping on a plane. |
Lasciel AnnwynnI am one of those. Yes, that kind. I poke around in the corners and lesser explored paths of life looking for it's mysteries. There is so much magic in the world when you open your perception to it. Look with eyes of wonder. Archives
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