Dancing with Myself

New Year's Resolutions

I've done plenty of resolutions in the past, but haven't made any this year--so far.  How about you?  I believe in fresh starts, and the new year seems prime for that one.  I also believe that you have to imagine the future in order to have creative control of your life.  Resolutions sort of help you do that. 

Here's mine, all wrapped up neat. 

I hereby resolve

to live each day in full appreciation of  just how lucky I am.  As much as I think I'm in control of my life, control is just an illusion.  Life is constantly being hit by unexpected tsunamis.

to be quick to laugh, slow to anger, anxious to forgive and be forgiven.

to be generous in my response to the needs of others.

Okay, I'm ready.  Bring on the New Year.

Which Hand Wears the Ring?

I had a visitor by this morning who had searched for the answer to the question, which hand do Gays use for the wedding band?  It's the left hand, just as in straight marriage.  However, the choice of hand to wear the wedding band is a custom and not a rule.  Just thought my visitor might like to have my opinion on the subject. 

Compassionate Leadership

Link: Tim's place.

Tim wants to know why those who have so much care so little about what is probably the greatest natural disaster in a hundred years? So do I.

Let me add my voice to his. Let's get a chorus going. Come on, Bill Gates, Larry Ellison, Governor Schwartzenegger, President Bush. Come on, guys, lead. Look at the billions raised for the families of those killed in the World Trade Center. This tragedy is off the scale of human misery. Let each of us respond with as much generosity as we can afford, maybe our leaders will follow.

Getting Your Face in the Newspapers

Well, sorta, I guess.  Unfortunately for me it was my ass that made the paper, all 200 pounds plus of it.   However, I am on the same page as Gavin Newsom. 

This is from Sunday's San Francisco Chronicle. I do remember those heady days of protest and counter-protest.  What is most interesting about this picture is that it was taken the exact moment of my radicalization on the issue of same-sex marriage.  The week started out here as a celebration of Valentine's Day with the hundreds of Gay and Lesbian couples lined up around City Hall for the chance to legitimize their relationships.  They were all so cute.  I encountered the protestors as I returned from my lunchtime walk. How dare they come here with their bigotry and spew their hatred. How fucking dare they! It still pisses me off. 

The California Supreme Court decided against the mayor and those several thousand same-sex couples, and invalidated their marriage licenses.  The court used very narrow grounds to overturn the mayor.  They're going to have to go out a lot farther when the issue comes up the next time, and it will. 

What have we won in the past year?  Well, same-sex marriage is happening all around us.  Thousands of Gays and Lesbians have married in Massachussetts, and so far heterosexual marriage has not been destroyed.  In fact, Massachussetts has lower divorce rates than does Texas, Virginia, Georgia, Louisiana, Arkansas, Alaska, Hawaii, Michigan, and all of the other states that passed amendments to their state constitutions.   

Whoops, I'm off and running.  It takes so little to get me going.  I'm taking deep breaths.  Rather than preaching to the choir, I'm going to just say, God bless Canada. The breeze that gently blows from the North is soothing.  You've always been a little ahead of us.  You outlawed slavery 50 years before the United States followed suit.  You also gave women the vote before us, but who's counting?

In fact, I'm so optimistic about same-sex marriage that I think I'll go out and interview some potential husband candidates.  As long as everyone else is doing it, I think I might also.

Random Alaska Photos

Sunrise at Wasilla, Alaska, Friday December 17, 2004.  About 10:30 a.m.

From the side of the highway between Girdwood and Anchorage along the Turnagain Arm.

This is rare shot of an iceberg graveyard.  It was very sad.  You could almost hear them melting.

Inside Jim's studio.

Looking out the window of his shop.

Nanook Returns from the North

I try real hard to be nice when I go out in public.  It's not always easy.  There are a lot of stupid people out there with whom we are forced to interact.  You meet a lot of them when you travel, and now you're not allowed to tell them to kiss your sweet ass when they're stupid.  You can be arrested.  So far I've managed to avoid being arrested, but people, tonight the strain was showing.

I have all sorts of anxieties around many forms of travel, most of them pre-dating the post-9-11 security measures.  For starters, I do not understand how planes that big and heavy can fly.  Yeah, yeah, it's been explained to me, but I'm convinced that it has something to do with my sphincter tightening as the plane builds up speed on the runway. 

My discomfort with flying can take several forms.  I can do an improvisational comedy routine worthy of Woody Allen.  That's a nervous kind of humor that seeks to make community with others in the immediate vicinity.  "We're all in this together" kind of thing.  It's very passive aggressive, but it's generally pretty good copy.

Sometimes my discomfort makes me unfriendly.  One might even say I get a little bitchy.  Okay, a lot bitchy.  For example, I do not make allowances for something not being your responsibility.  "It's just a busy day" is not a satisfactory answer to the question, "Why is my plane two hours late?"   If you work for the airline, it is your fault that the plane is two hours late.  As a result of the plane being so late, I missed the last BART train and had to take a taxi home from the airport at one a.m. this morning.  Curse you, Alaska Airlines.  Curse you about $38 worth. 

On the other hand, I got home a helluva lot faster than I would have otherwise.  I probably made up an hour of the lost two hours.  Okay, one more time and it'll be out of my system:  Curse you, Alaska Airlines.  There.  I feel better.

Coming home to the house without any Christmas ornamentation was strange.  I feel so detached from last week.  I have had solid Christmas since the 15th of December.  My friends in Alaska were in celebration mode, complete with decorations and lights, sweets, parties.  They feted me for the entire week.  I left there the day after the winter's solstice and flew into three days of Christmas with my sisters and mother in Oregon.  That's eleven days of Christmas.  Now I'm home and there's no evidence that Christmas ever took place here.  It's wierd.

I had a good time in Alaska.  Yeah, I know, I have a good time wherever I am whenever I'm there.  Still, my friends showed great love and sincere affection for me in dozens of ways each day.  My very bestest friend in the whole world, Jim K., has lived in Girdwood now for 28, maybe 29 years.  He is in Alaska because of me, but I'm never sure whether I should accept credit or blame.  We were supposed to go together, but a cloud came between us and he had to go alone.  Those things happen. 

Because of the degree of our closeness, all of Jim's friends embrace me as though they've known me as long as they've known him, and I guess in a way they have known me as long as they've known him, even though they first met me 13 years ago. 

This is me and Jim.

My second closest friend there is Lewis L.  He is about as incredible a human being as I have met in my life.  Lewis was born and raised in Alaska.  He is 59, going on 27.  Back in the days of his labor, he was an operating engineer.  He operated those huge machines you see on highway construction projects.   Girdwood has a community operated radio station because of Lewis,KEUL.  Anyone in Girdwood who wants a radio show has one.  It's a lot like blogging, but with more music. 

By chance, I heard a show on Saturday morning by another friend, Tom O'M., who spoke at length about the solstice and our collective observance of it.  Much of what Tom had to say was echoed earlier in my post about the evolution of the winter's solstice.  Tom and his his life-partner, Terry, hosted the solstice bonfire on Tuesday night.  On my next visit up, Tom has invited me to guest-host on his Saturday morning radio show.  I think that would be so cool.  Lewis tells me that by then the station may be going out on Satellite to the entire world.  I told him my theory about blogging and the message in the bottle going out into the universe, but he wasn't paying any attention.

I also ran into Girdwood's most notorious resident, Ted Stevens.  Uncle Teddie seems too familiar, so I'll just call him Senator Stevens.  Jim and I were at the Double Muskie when the senator, his daughter and two bodyguards stopped in.  Jim introduced me to the Senator.  They're not close friends, but Girdwood is a small town, and Jim is an artist of world-renown, and the Senator does have a window or two by Jim.

It finally snowed on Sunday.  I awoke to rain and started getting pissy with Mother Nature.  I did not come all the fucking way to Alaska for rain and mild tempeatures.   I felt entitled to any one of the following:  Northern lights, snow, or frigid weather.  I woke up, looked out and saw the rain and exclaimed, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

( I apologize if I have offended anyone's sensibilities with what appears to be a casual use of the word, "fuck," but, in this particular instance, it is a direct quote.)

It must have worked, however, because within 30 minutes it was snowing.  It snowed  about 4 inches on Sunday, and another 4 on Tuesday.  It was also cool enough finally to wear my Christmas present from Jim.  A racoon coat.

I'm finally beginning to fade.  It's about time.  As Jimmy Durante used to say, "Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are."

Celebrating Christmas

'Tis the season, I suppose, to be a nicer person.  We're supposed to be generous and cheerful.  It's probably the extra sugar in our diets making us hyper.  I don't feel especially nice or generous when I'm out in public, so I remind myself to be nice.  It's not always easy.  There's so many assholes out there these days, that being nice to strangers almost seems wasted.

I have to agree with those who are critical of school administrators excising religious references to Christmas carols.  People, get a grip.  On the other hand, you Christians who are screaming about how persecuted you are, ESAD.  Christians are not persecuted in this country.   For the record, I do think a little persecution makes Christians more Christ-like.  Some things just work best when they're in a minority.  Christianity and Islam both fit that category in my book.

I have more warm and fuzzy memories of December than I do of Christmas itself.  I had to give up on Christmas itself because I always set myself up for disappointment.  It was ruining Christmas for me.  I tried the old better to give than receive" routine.  No it's not.  Not if you're needy.   

I had to try that giving nonsense about two or three times before it really started to work.  There's a good reason why we observe Thanksgiving just before the Christmas holidays.  It's so we can realize how fortunate we are, and can celebrate our good fortune by being generous in our daily lives. 

If we each perform some small deed of improvisational generosity, we will have done our small part to create a world of generous people.  Positive vibes feed on positive vibes.  That's what my guru says anyhow.

I got to run.  My best wishes are with all of you this Christmas.

Alaska Cruisin'

Alaska is refusing to be stereotyped.  We've had nothing but rain since I arrived.  No snow, no frigid cold, no clear nights.  Doesn't matter when you're with friends having a good time.  I've got plenty of interesting pictures.

Two bonfires are planned for Tuesday night.  Tom's will be earlier in the evening, and Lewis's a bit later.  Lewis has a hot tub.  Dancing naked is a lot more fun when you end up in a hot tub.  I have put in a special request for clear skies on Tuesday.  Not that it'll slow me down a bit, one way or t'other.

Bye for now.  I need to go get some blue body paint. 

Nanook Goes North

I'm off to Girdwood, Alaska tomorrow.   My best friend lives there.  We're more than close friends, we're cosmic twins.  I know because our astrologer told me so.   Jim is a year older than I, but we're both double Cancers with Capricorn rising.  I'm not sure what that means, but everyone in Boulder back in the 70s was impressed. 

I got this bug to go dance under the Northern Lights.  You know what they're about don't you?  Like, you never saw Peter Pan when you were growing up?  Remember Tinkerbell and her fairy dust.  Well, duh!  They're made up of fairy dust, and  I need to recharge my fairy batteries. 

I will be blogging, but not often and nothing heavy, just travel commentary.  I will have opportunities to visit my blog buddies and leave snarky comments, because you're all so special.  Definitely I'll be back to wish you all a very merry Christmas.  But first comes the winter's solstice.

I believe the winter's solstice is humankind's oldest observed holiday.  I think the shortening days would definitely have been noticed by our cave-dwelling ancestors.  They probably sacrificed a lot of virgins before they realized it was just a cycle.  Once they were sure the sun was coming back, there would have been good cause to celebrate.  It's just a theory, but it makes sense to me.

I never paid much attention to the mid-winter or mid-summer solstice before I lived in Alaska back in the 70s, but Alaskans responded to the two unique holidays with passionate abandon.  Bonfires would be burned at both ends, summer and winter.  There would be dances and parties that lasted days.  I think there are more Christians than former hippies up there these days, but in those days, pot was practically legal, LSD was abundant, and we were all young and wild.  You know, I always thought it was Alaska.  Maybe it was just me.

I love certain aspects of winter.  I grew up way down South and experienced snow only once.  Consequently, I think snow is great.  Not only is it magical and transforming, it hides a lot of ugly crap.  Then there are the Northern Lights.  Sometimes they appear to be far away in the heavens, almost like  heat lightening.  Other times they dance about your head and you think that you can hear them crackle.  Most of the time they're blue and blue-green, but they come in all colors.  Back about '89 or '90 there was a night of red lights.  The years I lived up there, I never ceased to feel that the lights were somehow a blessing being bestowed upon me, and I felt energized.  In those days I danced with wild abandon, swirling like a dervish, getting higher and higher from the music and the movement.  I felt that dancing was somehow giving me the ability to fly, especially with all that fairy dust being sprinkled about.   A lot of people would have thought me crazy, but the Alaskans I knew back in those days just danced with me.

This is my first trip back in the winter in about ten years.  I'm ready to dance.

Homelanding

1.

Where should I begin?  After all you have never been there; or if you have,  you may not have understood the significance of what you saw, or thought you saw.  A window is a window, but there is looking out and looking in.  The native you glimpsed, disappearing behing the curtain, or into the bushes, or down the manhole in  the main street--my people are shy--may have been only your reflection in the glass.  My country specializes in such illusions.
...
4.
As for the country itself, let me begin with the sunsets, which are long and red, resonant, splendid and melancoly, symphonic you might almost say; as opposed to the short boring sunsets of other countries, no more interesting than a light switch.  We pride ourselves on our sunsets.  "Come and see the sunset," we say to one another. This causes everyone to rush outdoors or over to the window.

Our country is large in extent, small in population, which accounts for our fear of empty spaces, and also our need for them.  Much of it is covered in water, which accounts for our interest in reflections, sudden vanishings, the dissolution of one thing into another.  Much of it, however, is rock, which accounts for our belief in Fate.
. . .

5.
Sometimes we lie still and do not move.  If air is still going in and out of our breathing holes, this is called sleep.  If not, it is called death.  When a person has achieved death, a kind of picnic is held, with music, flowers and food.  The person so honored, if in one piece, and not, for instance, in shreds or falling apart, as they do if exploded or a long-time drowned, is dressed in becoming clothes and lowered into a hole in the ground, or else burned up.

These customs are among the most difficult to explain to strangers.  Some of our visitors, espcially the young ones, have never heard of death and are bewildered.  They think that death is simply one more of our illusions, our mirror tricks; they cannot understand why, with so much food and music, the people are so sad.

But you will understand.  You too must have death among you.  I can see it in your eyes.

6.
I can see it in your eyes.  If it weren't for this, I would have stopped trying long ago, to communicate with you in this halfway language which is so difficult for both of us, which exhausts the throat and fills the mouth with sand; if it weren't for this I would have gone away, gone back.  It's this knowledge of death which we share, where we overlap.  Death is our common ground.  Together, on it, we can walk forward.
....'

These passages are from Margaret Atwood, a Canadian writer.  The above selection is from an essay by her called Homelanding.  Not bad, eh? 

(I'm just practicing speaking Canadian.)