I'm there

I made it.  I'm in South Africa!
You may want to check out my goings on here:  Wild Sabbatical

The new blog is open to the world while The Mind of a Bear continues to be anonymous.  Help me out with this and don't cross-reference things. Though all are welcome to read and comment.  Though it may be boring.

Cheers all.

Preparations

On Friday, I leave for six weeks in South Africa.  Imagine.  I can't.
I'll be staying on the outskirts of Grahamstown.
Because of the strangeness of my job, I get to do things like this.  There is even a special fund that is paying for this.  This is grace.  I am grateful.  It will save my life.

Today has been another flurry of activity getting things ready.
Shots at the health dept. (which I should have done 3 weeks ago).
Some footwear for me (not easy to find what you want in a size 14D).
Contact and chats with some friends.
And then . . . . . something I have long wanted, but been too inhibited to do.
I got my ear pierced.  Just one - the right one.

Now, if you've read this blog, you may remember several years back, I had another piercing, but in a place nobody could see (unless invited, so to speak).  {Sadly, it is no longer in place; and still missed.}

But the ear, ah, that's a public piercing.  It makes a different kind of statement.

I am "on sabbatical" till the end of March.  When I go back to my usual place of employment, I hope to have the courage to keep it in.  There will be pressure to take it out.  But, for two months, at least, I can play.

Sacred Dance

Here is a post from Richard Rohr.  His writings have been teaching me a lot, of late.  Not your typical friar, he.  Unexpected, perhaps.  I am, too, I think.
The original is here.

I am seeking to move more deeply into my Sacred Dance.

LIVING A WHOLE LIFE Bill Plotkin speaks of the first half of life as doing our “survival dance.” The second half of life can then become our “sacred dance.” Most of us never get beyond our survival dance to ask the deep concerns of the soul (we are too busy “saving” our souls, whatever that means!) to do our sacred dance. Money, status symbols, group identity, and security are of limited value, but to the soul they are a distraction, and finally they become the very problem itself. However, don’t misunderstand me—and I say this as strongly as I can—you’ve got to go through this first half of life and its concerns. Every level of growth builds on the previous ones. The principle is this: transcendence means including the previous stages. Then you can see the limited—but real—value of the early stages. But you will no longer put too much energy into just looking good, making money, feeling secure at all costs, and making sure you are right and others are wrong. That’s what it means to grow up, and Christians need to grow up just like everybody else. Adapted from Loving the Two Halves of Life: The Further Journey (CD/DVD/MP3). See also Fr. Richard’s latest book, Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life Starter Prayer: Help me grow up by going down.

Grateful, whiny, hard

Next Friday, 3 February, I fly to South Africa.  For six weeks.  I can't believe that.  Amazing.  Not much touring around or such as that.

Time spent being quiet, being still, just being.  At least that's the very minimal plan so far in place.

Tonight, after a very long day, and some very tough news, I've been a bit whiny.

Grateful, I am.  Very grateful.

Of course, I'd also like to tell you about the incredibly sexy, hunky roofer I was watching, while I ate lunch.  As I walked out of the eating place, he spoke to me.  Ooooh.  Had he been watching my watching?  We chatted.  that's all.  But I had to adjust my britches a bit.

What a day.

Yes.

You might not think it like me, and if you knew me well, you might really wonder about such.  But it's true.  Yes.  I am.

I am going on Sabbatical for the months of February and March 2012.  The thing that may seem odd is indeed odd.  At least it feels so to me.  Who would ever have thought that I would do such a thing?  Such a thing as this, I mean.  It's not what you'd expect if you knew me.

But then, if you really know me, maybe it isn't so odd.  In all these years, I wouldn't have thought myself capable of such.

In early February, I fly to South Africa for six weeks in a monastery.  See, I told you it was odd.  I'm not planning on becoming a monk. (Goodness! What a thought.)  It's a monastery connected with the religious non-profit where I serve.  It's not a cloistered order, so I won't be "locked up" or anything.  I will do some service, some prayer, a bit of contemplation, and rest.

I know what you're thinking.  "Why does this guy get a sabbatical and I don't?"  Well, it's complicated, I suppose.  But this line of work can be taxing in ways that no other line of work can be.  Not many, anyway.  And, I don't get to go to conferences in luxurious places or even business travel.  And, I work just about every f&%$~"g weekend and holiday.  Plus some other odd hours.  It isn't about the time spent in work as much as the intensity and nature of it.  It requires not much physical labor, but an inordinate amount of emotional labor.

I'm awed, excited, honored, and terrified.

The Turning of the Year

Happy New Year.
Moving in to the new year with much on my plate, I keep waiting for the "semester break."    That's the time when all the tests are done, papers handed in, etc., and so forth.  It's all done.  And you can just relax.  (Of course, my last semester break was precisely 30 years ago in my last year of graduate school.)

Then something new starts.  From the beginning.  Not so life.  It keeps going and thing don't just "end."  They just get extended or put-off, or they just keep going.  Why have I not caught on to this pattern?

Anyway, the journey continues.

Here's wishing all blessings, new discoveries, liveliness, goodness, gratitude, and joy in the big '12!

Cheers!

All

Today is a good day.  They aren't all, but today is.  DG.

I've said it before, and it is difficult to explain or expound upon, but it is so true . . .
Coming Out is the most intense spiritual journey of my life.  All of it.  I could never have imagined.  Still can't.  It is still unfolding, as it always will be.

The Holy One of Being does not demand all.  Except when the Holy One does.  For me, it seems necessary.  To give all.  As my spiritual director said, we must hand all over - in thanksgiving.  The Holy One blesses all; and returns to us that which we need.

I know that I must.  Well, it isn't that I must. It's just that I must.

It is all about 'Letting Go'.

"It is only to empty hands that all may be given."  You must lose your life, to find it.  You must give, to receive. You must die, to live.  Shit.  This I do not like.  Not one bit.  I am screaming and crying and squirming - big time.

And I am laughing, too.  At myself.  I know that it's true.  I know that I must.  I hope that I will.  And there is that part of me that wants to.  Really.

I suppose there is good reason the 12 Steps have always appealed to me - there is such deep spirituality there.

I know.  This seems a bit random.  'Spose it is.  But it is what it is.

On this night of the Third Day of Christmas, as we move toward the Turning of the Year, may there be grace and peace to you and your house.

Cheers.

Oh, I'm on facebook now, too.  Email me if you're interested.

Solstice

I'm waiting for the light.

This season of the year is quite tough for me.  And, things are looking up.
The religious celebrations of a Christian sort help me make it through, though I know many gay brothers and sisters do not countenance stuff that has to do with "Christianity" or the church.  And I deeply understand that. No one need tell me about the church or "Christianity" and what it has meant, done, inflicted upon, etc., our kind.

Being Christian, though, in the very liberal fashion in which I claim that title, ain't so bad.  There is a deeper Truth underneath the religiosity and practice of many who have hurt us, and do hurt us, and will defame and shame and injure and speak ill of us.  Really; there is a deeper Truth there. for me, it is worth it.

And, as I work for a religious non-profit, I'm deeply rooted in the Tradition.  And it's more than you think.  As the appointed leader of said religious non-profit, I came out almost two years ago.  And I'm still here, and we are actually growing and (in small ways) flourishing. The story is beyond amazing and unexpected and grace-filled.  The Truth and the Practice of many is far beyond the idiocy and hypocrisy and hate-filled-practice of some.  It's true.

One odd (quite odd) and blessed thing that comes to me in my 'employment' is the chance for some extended time away.  It's called a sabbatical.  And now it seems I will be graced with one.  February and March.  Time will be spent in meditation and contemplation with some monks (most of whom are gay, I think).  I'll be welcomed and accepted and given time for work and prayer and no one cares that I am gay.  I am hoping it will be a time of further transformation.

In South Africa.  Can you imagine?  I am only just beginning to.

The next few days will be very busy for me.  So,  Cheers, Shalom, and Merry Christmas to all.

PS:  I've got so much Celtic blood in me (it's true) now I understand why I want to paint myself blue and dance naked around a mistletoe-laden oak tree.  Huzzah!

I Lost It

I went to get a prescription refilled this evening, after a meeting at work.  "I'm sorry, this requires pre-authorization."

So, right there, at the counter in the Pharmacy, I called the company that handles prescription coverage for my health insurance.  I won't mention the name, but its initials are Medco.  After talking to their computer for a while, I finally got a live person.  (After talking with me, I hope she did not have to take a personal day, dissolving into tears, running screaming from the building.)

I was furious.  Livid.  Fit-to-be-tied.  Outraged. (What words could you add to this list?)  While civil, I don't think you could say I was polite.  I apologized to the person on the other end of the phone, saying that I knew it was not her fault.  I knew that she was just doing her job, (and being polite about it).  I told her that . . . . . . and then told her how furious/outraged/angry/livid I was about this system.  I was ready to occupy something, and it would not be a pretty sight.

And, you wouldn't believe what a nice, mild-mannered, usually calm person I am.  Most of the time.

So, I have to call the drug lords of insurance-land to be told a telephone number that I must give to the doctor's office, so that the doctor's office may call it to get a form faxed to them (the Doc's office) that must then be completed and returned to the prescription barons.  Then the headless wonders of prescription hell can decide if it's really what I should have, a legitimate drug, a real need, and whether they will pay for it. After all, the doctor's office has so much spare time, and so many extra employees just sitting around.  And, the doc doesn't know her arse from a hole in the ground - how could she possibly know what to prescribe for me.

When you go to your doctor, does she routinely give you random, expensive, useless prescriptions usually prescribed for symptoms and ailments that you do not have?  Perhaps many doctors do.  Do they?

I talked tonight with four different persons at the drug castle.  (I apologized and warned them in advance.)  The third person with whom I spoke was in the pre-authorization department. Then, he transferred me to a pharmacist in the pre-authorization department.  Who only works in the pre-authorization department.  They have pre-authorization pharmacists?!  Who knew?

This is all to save us money.  Pre-authorization departments.  Doctor's offices with staff members who do nothing but make calls and file forms with pre-authorization departments.  To save us money?

The hilarity of it continues: it was an old, generic drug.  Not like the doc is getting pay-offs from the drug company on this one.

Opening a bottle of wine was the best decision of the night.  I'm better now.  A bit.

Cold Front with Sun

There may be a lot to barometric pressure and its effect on one's mood.  Or not.

Maybe it's the rain, the clouds, the lack of sun.  Am I affected by that Seasonal Affective Disorder?  I know not.  But a front was moving through yesterday, and my mood was darker than than clouds.  Today it is cold, but the sun is out.  Deo gratias.  Is it sun or barometric pressure or phases of the moon?

These ups and downs seem rather high and low.  And, without medications stemming the slide, I can get into quite a funk.  But then, today is much better.  I'm really felling it all.  As I've said before (quoting a wise friend from years ago) "If you can't feel it, you can't heal it."  So now comes the work of healing it.

Many thanks for supportive words from folk in the blogosphere.