My life in metaphors...

This morning before meditating, I decide to read some Rumi. I didn't have any particular attachment or prior knowledge about this poem in particular, but a lot of times I like to randomly open a "sacred" book, and take in whatever I read as an auspicious message about the present from "the universe" (God, Spirit, or whichever label I'm using at the moment). So this is what I read today...

These words of mine are no stones
To pick and throw at passing fancies.
They're yeast-sounds, bread waiting
To be broken whilst they're still fresh.
Leave them overnight and they become
Hard as rustling bolts, not fit for eating.
My verse is harboured in lovers' hearts.
Expose it to the indifferent world
Busy with its traffic and it chokes to death.
Like a fish it swims in the lover's blood.
Land it on the rocks and it gasps for life
Then it slowly dies, cold and still as an icicle.
You must be rich with metaphors.
Like an ore of gold waiting to be mined
If you are to digest my words
When they're fresh.  Know this,
My friend, it's nothing new,
These words are turned to bliss when you
Read them with your own imagining heart.
(Rumi - Divan 981 - "Words of Paradise" - Raficq Abdulla)

Instantly I could see myself being 22 again, talking to my therapist about conflicts I was having with my boyfriend at the time. I was pouring my heart out to him, so I thought, never getting anything back in return.  I would write letters, and emails, with the most beautiful language and metaphors (so I was told by him), but he had no idea how to respond.  After bringing one of my letters into my session and reading it to her, she pointed out to me that she could understand why he would have a hard time responding because what I had written was full of symbolism and metaphors, but short on actual emotional confessions.  Thankfully, I no longer have any of the evidence...

What became clear to me is that somewhere along the line of becoming an adult who can keep a roof over her head and still have some time to have fun (when not working two jobs), my life has lost its metaphors, and damn it, I want them back!  At 22, I was a person "rich with metaphors" as the poem says, undeterred by conflicting evidence and practicality. I had no real convictions, no discipline, just dreams. As I approach 35 I realize that one of the big changes I need to make is to resurrect that 22 year old, or maybe dig back even further.

The benefit of approaching 35 is that a lot of questions my 22 year old mind had about my future have been answered.  I have become a professional woman doing meaningful work, and looking good while I'm at it.  I haven't found a companion in life but I finally realize that's not the end of the world.  I never became a good housekeeper, but I've become a great cook.  Most importantly of all, I have found my way back to spirituality, albeit a long way from being raised a Jehovah's Witness.

I really think this poem, at this moment in my life is asking me, how can I truly be spiritual, and know the I am connected to everything, without loving the metaphors? What benefits will my spirituality have for me in creating anything musically or artistically if I am not a welcoming vessel for fantasy and symbolism? I read over these lines several times in particular:

My verse is harboured in lovers' hearts.
Expose it to the indifferent world
Busy with its traffic and it chokes to death.
Like a fish it swims in the lover's blood.

I think on a certain level I was already moving in this direction without knowing it, which makes it all the more auspicious (I love this word, one of my favorite words in the English language). I've been limiting my time watching political shows, limiting my time on facebook, finding more time to connect with people and with Spirit.

On the most basic level I've been struggling with dreaming big, and at times feeling childish to think that something magical can still happen, and will happen in my life. But I can't escape who I am, and in my gut I really do believe there is more in store, even bigger than I can imagine, if I just get rid of the junk and negativity.

I still find it hard to believe I've been able to do some of the things I've done, but back when I lived in metaphors, the money mysteriously came from "no-where" to "now-here" (thanks, Wayne Dyer for that), a person's heart changed, my heart changed, my life changed.... I think somewhere along this path my logical brain started taking credit for that, or at least diminishing the mystery and synchronicity of those moments.

I can't let go of dreaming. I must nurture my lover's heart.

 I want to sing, but I don't have to fill stadiums on a world tour like Beyonce. It feels like I'm cheating myself not to dream that I can, while at the same time it feels ridiculous to dream that I can, especially being almost 35 and still afraid to sing in front of people.  I don't even think that level of fame is  anything I want out of life or out of making music for that matter.

I can't dream half a dream, so my dream of singing is inextricably tied to something more huge.  I'm not sure if I expect to get there or not, but what I've learned today is I can't stop dreaming big just because I'm afraid that not achieving the dream is going to destroy me.  I need my 22 year old heart, and maybe my 12 year old imagination back.

"I wake up with new dreams every day. So the more I can do to channel that into things that I love to create is healthier for me and probably for everybody around me. And the older I get, the earlier I get up. The second my feet hit the floor, I'm awake. I'm like hurry, hurry. I just love life. And I feel like we ain't got but a certain amount of time anyway. I want to make the most of all of it." -- Dolly Parton (Source: Reader's Digest - January 2006)

In the end, I must dream the dreams I have today and do what I can to make them happen, because tomorrow brings a new day and a new dream. The better I get at bringing them to life, the better I will get at dreaming.

Bringing myself to the Torah

I started reading Judaism as a Civilization today, and in my usual fashion, I did not start at the beginning. I skipped to the chapter on the Torah as a way of life. Something about the title of that chapter spoke to me, and though I wanted to start at the beginning of the book, I just had to read this chapter first.

Although I'm not done reading the chapter yet, I felt the need to stop and blog about a realization I just had. I remember when I first began to formally practice Nichiren Buddhism in 2007, I was having a hard time with the concept of the Gohonzon, which is the scroll that Nichiren Buddhists enshrine, and chant in front of.

Through years of independent Buddhist practice, I learned the value of meditation and chanting. I didn't even have a problem with a Buddha figure, but when people at SGI were talking me into getting a Gonhonzon, I really didn't see the point, and for some reason, I even felt uncomfortable about it.

This discomfort went away when I read an analogy between the Gohonzon and other pieces of paper that we assign meaning to such as money. A scroll with Chinese script hanging in a wooden cabinet does not have inherent meaning or power, just as a piece of paper with Benjamin Franklin's picture and the number 100 has no meaning to someone who has no frame of reference for it. We are taught these things, buy into these things, and then use them move through the world.

I've realized that some of my issues and stumbling blocks in beginning my conversion relate to a similar hesitation to give the Torah meaning and power in my life. Though I was able to make a mental and spiritual leap in Nichiren Buddhism, coming back around to familiar names like Leviticus and Deuteronomy put me back into an old frame of reference. In some ways I've felt that accepting liberal interpretations of scripture was lower on a spiritual hierarchy, despite the fact that I vehemently do not believe in taking things literally.

But as a friend commented, you bring your whole self to the Torah. I think that is definitely what makes it a living and relevant force and symbol in a person's life. If I as a trans person can only experience its power by conforming to something that is against my nature, then it serves no purpose and has no symbolism in my life. I think the Torah becomes more beautiful and powerful when it becomes the source of "trans" liberation, queer liberation, heroic inspiration, or maybe just a way to make it through ordinary life in any era.

When I was 20 years old and feared I was backsliding into Satan's world of things, I left a desperate message at a Kingdom Hall in the middle of the night. I told them that I felt like Satan was tempting me. I did not share with them that I had been exploring some of my issues with gender and my attraction to men. On some level, I really think at the time my subconscious mind was responding to the level of risk of meeting people online and basically being naive. This was in 1999 when meeting online was sort of a new thing, as was the internet in general.

They came a couple of days later, with their Bibles and Watchtowers in tow. They told me that we as humans were not wise enough to discern right from wrong, and that the Bible provided explicit instructions for how we were supposed to live. They also said that the presence of my guilty conscience over my actions was some kind of evidence that Satan had led me astray.

I still remember standing there and literally having two currents going through my mind and body. One current told me that these people were right, that Satan had lured me away from the flock, and that the outside world (especially college, they mentioned) was a dangerous place. The other, and thankfully more powerful current, said that even though I had no other worldview at the moment and couldn't argue with them, there had to be a better answer out there.

Writing this post is like creating a empty space in my consciousness for a new understanding of and relationship with the Torah and with sacred writings in general. However, I must always remember the danger of the old ways of framing and seeing those same words.

My first date with Torah !

Today I read Torah!! I couldn't actually believe I was doing it. I read intently, and even read some parts more than once.

It may seem insignificant, but I haven't even picked up a Bible and opened its pages in about 10 years. I can distinctly remember throwing away a Bible a couple of years ago. I vowed that I would never allow any religious babble to brainwash me the way I had been in the past. I guided myself through the next few years with sessions on a therapist's couch, and episodes from Oprah and Sex and the City. I take comfort in knowing every episode (from every season) of Sex and the City, and the fact that I can recommend one for any particular problem a person is going through means that 55 Torah portions will be a piece of cake (to remember the gist and details, that is).

So a couple of years, a gender reassignment, and a few trials and tribulations later, I've learned that those same stories that I could never accept are giving me reassurance. I remember book studies and Bible studies as a child and teenager where I constantly heard about how Satan controlled the world's rulers and how the Bible had already predicted the horrible state of the world and the "Last Days" we live in. It was so refreshing to read this weeks Parshat Chukat and delve deep beyond the words that were written onto the page into something that strengthens me.

I've been watching videos from g-dcast.com on youtube lately, but this is the first week that I've actually read the Torah portion, mainly because I just got my copy of the Tanakh from the Jewish Publication Society last week.

Here is the G-dcast video for this weeks Parshat Chukat (Numbers 19:1 - 22:1), I also read other writings on the parshat that focused on the red heifer, or Moses's anger, or Aaron and the kiss of death, but I was really inspired by this video, especially as I am looking beyond myself for healing and direction at this particular time in my life.



So on my first date with Torah, I think this might be the start of something special....
To Be Continued. . .