The Eve

Something about tonight's sunset is different. Looking out the window display where the Sun and I watch each other during the day, something is amiss. Perhaps it is the way the clouds have conspired with the Sun to warn me, for while the sun has set, a red flare shoots across the sky. I know it to be a sign. I have learned enough from the sun to know when it is worried. I know enough from the clouds to recognize warning.

About me, enemies are beginning to appear. An uneasiness lurks about me: I must beware the shadows.
The days of leas and prosperity are nearing their end for now. For now, I must prepare for the nights of battle against specters. I do not know who I will be at the end of this night; I do not know what I will have become.

Am I ready? I don't know. I have only but just gotten used to the days of pleasures that marked a journey anew. However, though I am alone, I have with me a Party. I am Atticus, Pishon, and Israel. I do not know where I will go.... but I know that I must go. I must become as Wise as the serpent. I must become as Fluid as Water. I must become as Aware as the Owl.

I find myself at crossroads yet again. Should I attempt to change once more, as some counsel would suggest? Do I stay the course? What is the right decision?

The answer... I must confront the final boss to find what it is. My truth lies deeper within myself, farther below than the abodes of the spirits, to where God himself is. I must descend into myself, withdraw from the world, and seek the counsel of the God of the universe.... to where he is speaking now, not just in the past. I must confront him, and combat him until there is not but an answer.

My time is up... now... into the abyss...

love Letters from a just-remembered mentor...

I've recently reconnected with a place that was sort of a refuge for me during my days of zeal and martyrdom for the ex-gay movement. I do not know what I will do in the days ahead, but I cannot deny that I had a great many positive experiences in that place, and with a great number of people. A couple of you may know what I'm talking about.

Well, this post is dedicated to a friendly anonymous specter who served as a great friend and mentor towards me. Because of certain policies, I'm not allowed to divulge certain information, like username or even the site I was on, but, I find myself very grateful for his presence and his love towards the person I was.

He was in texas, while I live in california. He struggled with "SSA", as we would call it back then, and I was just struggling.  He gave me such a love that I couldn't explain, and it didn't have any innuendos [on his end; on mine, it looked like I was seriously flirtatious, even though I was being genuine in the things I was saying], and he was very clear about boundaries, and he didn't build me up with stories or delusions of granduer. He was a mentor, a friend, a confidant removed from my sphere of the physical world and all of its ugliness.

Today, I stumbled on an old thread. It was the only thread where we had spoken. I had started it long before he joined the site and began posting, and I was around for a while after he left. He announced his departure to me and everyone who read our forum, and I read his personal "Thank you", where he said that I had brought out the best of him when he thought he had none.

In truth, I loved him. I loved him so much that thinking about him still bring back a lot of laughter, and I think that that laughter has rescued me, soundlessly, from a lifetime of unhappiness and total hatred of God, even when I had thought that I had. This love was not sinful... for it wasn't lust. It was companionship. It was brotherhood. It was Godly.

I am posting this to pay homage. You see, before I was Atticus, before I was Pishon, before I was Two-Spirits, he gave me a name as well. A Third Spirit, who I had been estranged to. A Third Spirit, who never left, but fell quiet. A Third Spirit, who is back, holding all those letters for me to read, to own, to embody.

Israel. He called me Israel.

Bless you, man that I've not met yet. I hope I recognize you in heaven.

I bet I will.

A Worthy Referral

So I stumbled upon this blog that I've come to adore after reading three posts: Single Dad Laughing. The site is insightful, and the post I read spoke a lot about humanity and love and celebrating the human spirit. Please do me the honor of checking it out.

The Home of the Homeless Man

Today I wanted to buy a homeless man something to eat.
I had seen him a couple of times before.
Once with my mother,
Once with my brothers,
And once outside the Starbucks door....

I wanted to buy a homeless man something to eat,
And merely hours ago, he was there,
But when I finally tried to find him on the street.
To my horror, someone else was there.

I turned back around,
I didn't even slow down,
I cried in the driver's seat alone.

But I knew who to call,
She made sense of it all,
Counseling and Condolences over the phone.

I spilled out the tears,
And we sorted until all was clear,
Her voice, cooing to sleep, my fears.

I asked one of my Seraphim,
"Alisz, was I in love with Him?"
'Twas no whim; 'Twas the question I feared.

She could hear my confession,
"Not Love, but affection"
And I prayed a prayer for their intercession.

Then I stood in the rain,
God, Spirits, they knew my pain.
And, by water, I was absolved of my transgression.

Spirits, Spirits... Can You Hear Them, Deux Spirits?

"Digimon...Forever United as One

Digimon....Together, The Battles Are Won

Digimon... Through us, Let your Spirit Evolve

If we're all for one world,

There's a world for us all."

The night turns to the wee hours of the day and still I am up in front of a LED screen and a seed of a revelation. Again and again I am baffled by the places my blissful spirit leads me, and I often find myself wondering of the two I have, which is the wiser. Beneath a quilt lies content legs and giddy lungs, my head slightly bobbing to the technically inspired beat of Nostalgia, who has visited me yet again on this night. I find myself never growing tired of his visits, for when he is here, I find myself sleeping easier, and waking up more rested.

Tonight, we visited a lost treasure in my past--Digimon. Even now, my heart flutters with a lost child-like happiness. As a child, I only watched but a few episodes throughout my elementary ad middle-school life, but it did more than supply a fragment of my past inside of me; it enthralled me like nothing else. Days upon end I wondered about being inside that digital world, special enough to wield a Digivice and have my own crest to find and use on my very own Digimon-friend. It was the first work of fiction that I had attempted, and here on this night, after at least a decade, I found myself a child before it, and awakened to everything that the blissful spirit had done by bringing me to it.

I have never seen but one episode of the fourth season, which is known as "Digimon Frontier", and I have but little interest in the fifth, titled "Data Squad". I had known a fair portion of the theme song that had been more or less identical in the first three seasons, and I listened, the euphoria setting my eyes on fire and connecting my heart to the adrenal glands.

As I thumbed through the my memories of this show, I remembered a few details about the concept behind it. In season one and two, middle-schoolers are transported to a digital a la tron and performed their roles as guardians, defending the digital world as well as their own. The third occurred in another dimension where Digimon is, indeed, a television show, as well as a card game, and three kids are given an enigmatic blue card, which gives them real Digimon. With the fourth season, "Digimon Frontier", came the new theme song, and the single episode I had seen, I remember one impressing detail that has given me, a jaded adolescent, a renewal of hope: "Spirit Evolution."

One of the things about the show was that, instead of having the Digimon as these outside creatures that walked, talked, and had personalities that complimented their corresponding human, the idea was that the kids themselves would undergo transformation, and what they had turned into were based on these totem-like relics that they had found. Totems. 

I don't know much about Native American culture, but I know about the importance of Totems. They were known as the guardian spirits of an individual or family, if I remember correctly. I began thinking of my given name: Two-Spirits. It had its own understanding amongst Native Americans, but that was not the meaning meant for me, nor my name-giver's intent when he gave it to me. Two-Spirits has merely been a description: I have been gifted with more than one intent, ideal, and perspective. I am more than singular.

As I have become more aware of these two forms of self, I have often sought their counsel, and even named them: Atticus and Pishon. They are my guardians, my totems, and with their hands in mine, I am following my bliss and pining away towards heaven, wherever it may be. I have yet to give them form, but they are more real to me than I can find words to describe right now.

Can you hear them, Spirits? Can you hear them? The drums, the drums... they are calling! The chants of journey! "Ha-ya-moo-ah! Ha-ya-moo-ah!"

Hear the Call

Dancing Shepards and Dancing Wolves

Open a new tab and press play

There's this guy that insists that I dance with Him.
I've known Him my entire life,
and People are all abuzz about His dancing.
I've danced with Him before,
But I couldn't tell if I like His style or not.

I will say that He's got some serious rhythm,
but He LIVES for dancing with me.
He's always wanting to dance together.
But We only dance battles lately.

He insists of us practicing tango
And I'm not allowed to do it a los bordellos
He scolds me when I'm not practicing,
Even in my studies, I find guilt with myself.
I should be dancing with Him.
Everyone says I should be dancing with Him
Everyone says I shouldn't be dancing with Him.

But today, I found myself dancing,
It wasn't with Him,
It wasn't against Him, either.
I was dancing against another,
A dance FOR Him.

The challenge was sudden,
I, the challenger, was challenged.
Practice was over,
Time to see what Learning I had managed.

I had been dancing less and less up until now,
But at the drop of a hat, I was back.
Out of respect, I did my bow;
At attention was every vertebrae in my back.

We squared off. We stepped off.
Me with my staff; all fangs and claws, was He.
He intimidated me before,
But the beat was inside,
With nowhere hide,
I seized this ballroom floor.

He pounced, I kicked,
He clawed, I spun,
He snapped, I ducked,
With each second, I knew I had won.

My staff became a snake.
It complimented every move I would make.
My steps were light,
My staff turned into wings of flight.

He was swift,
his swings would barely miss,
He chomped thin air,
But only missed me by a hair.

I tangoed with Capoeira,
Fused ballet with He Nan Xing Yi Liu,
It was a dance of strange proportions,
My opponent may not even be totally sure what to do.

I dealt the final blow,
Staff struck and struck again.
In a flash I offered my hand,
For even wolves can be turned into trusted friends.

My opponent left and I departed on well-enough terms,
The Sheep had been protected,
I been declared victor, It was confirmed.

I returned to my dance partner,
Who stood by the mirror for rest.
I nodded, and He smiled.
"Good" said He, "Now for the rest."

The music played,
We bordelloed, contemporaried,
Two forces, too bad.
We tangoed like we made the world what it was.