So I write this as I am killing time waiting to leave for the airport. This is the last night in my parents home. Ever. (At least, this is likely.) It is likely my last night living in British Columbia. I may visit again, but realistically, I must face the fact that I may be currently spending my final night living in the province I grew up in--the province I love.
It is strange considering this. This has been my home, the place where my heart has resided. Until this evening I have had a key for this house on my key ring since before I ever moved away. And now it is gone (given, appropriately, to my brother-in-law who was lacking a key). Right now, if I were not tired and on the tail end of tipsy, I would be as I was earlier: very anxious and afraid, scared to consider cutting myself off from this anchor to life and reality. And yet I'm entering into the great unknown, this thing I have long sought for. Perhaps it is only right to fear that which is good for us. Or perhaps it is this deep-set acedia within me, which despises my current place, whatever that may be. But this is where I am, and this is what I am doing. Tomorrow we will be in Toronto, and then in ten days we will be on another continent altogether. This is what we have longed for, and now, by the grace of God, we are there.
31 December 2010
20 December 2010
Watashiwa... dare?
Tonight I am writing without purpose. Well, that is not strictly true, but I am writing without a purpose currently clear to me.
I have just finished my first of two long work days and the penultimate of a very long work "week". Earlier today I had the good fortune to work with one of my agnostic colleagues, but also sadly one of the only people out here that I can have good, religious discussion with. That is probably my biggest sorrow of living here: while there are many religious people everywhere I look, few of them are educated in theology, let alone a more Catholic theology. And so all stimulating theological discussion that is not with my wife is with an agnostic colleague.
Living here has put me in a strange place where almost everyone I know is either familiar and comfortable with my religion but does not know my struggles with gender and sexuality, or they know these struggles but are not able to talk about my religion (either from lack of familiarity or lack of comfort). When I was in Toronto, I was blessed with friends who were both comfortable and familiar with both aspects of me (inasmuch as I had recognised the gender-aspect, anyway), and I miss this endlessly. What's more is I do not know if I will be able to have this when we move to England, or if I will again be in the company of people who can accept part of me, but not the other part.
I remember one occasion where a friend told me that she quite liked me, except she wished I could separate my religion from who I am day-to-day. And the fact that anyone could--or even would--do this surprised me. I cannot divide my religion from who I am without ceasing to be who I am. This does not mean I spend all of my time talking about God, but it does mean that my worldview is always shaped by my beliefs in and about God and His role and the role of the Church in the world. More and more I am finding that by keeping my feminine aspects hidden and suppressed, I am attempting to do exactly what my friend asked, except instead of doing it to religion, I am doing it to who God made me. And truly, to deny God's creation can only end in tragedy.
As our time here winds to an end I look forward to a brief respite wherein I will be with friends who accept and understand my struggles, and after that I enter into the unknown where I will have to find ways to allow both to be evident in who I am: neither flaunting who I am nor hiding it.
(My apologies for going on about the same things, and my future apologies for probably doing so again before overly long.)
I have just finished my first of two long work days and the penultimate of a very long work "week". Earlier today I had the good fortune to work with one of my agnostic colleagues, but also sadly one of the only people out here that I can have good, religious discussion with. That is probably my biggest sorrow of living here: while there are many religious people everywhere I look, few of them are educated in theology, let alone a more Catholic theology. And so all stimulating theological discussion that is not with my wife is with an agnostic colleague.
Living here has put me in a strange place where almost everyone I know is either familiar and comfortable with my religion but does not know my struggles with gender and sexuality, or they know these struggles but are not able to talk about my religion (either from lack of familiarity or lack of comfort). When I was in Toronto, I was blessed with friends who were both comfortable and familiar with both aspects of me (inasmuch as I had recognised the gender-aspect, anyway), and I miss this endlessly. What's more is I do not know if I will be able to have this when we move to England, or if I will again be in the company of people who can accept part of me, but not the other part.
I remember one occasion where a friend told me that she quite liked me, except she wished I could separate my religion from who I am day-to-day. And the fact that anyone could--or even would--do this surprised me. I cannot divide my religion from who I am without ceasing to be who I am. This does not mean I spend all of my time talking about God, but it does mean that my worldview is always shaped by my beliefs in and about God and His role and the role of the Church in the world. More and more I am finding that by keeping my feminine aspects hidden and suppressed, I am attempting to do exactly what my friend asked, except instead of doing it to religion, I am doing it to who God made me. And truly, to deny God's creation can only end in tragedy.
As our time here winds to an end I look forward to a brief respite wherein I will be with friends who accept and understand my struggles, and after that I enter into the unknown where I will have to find ways to allow both to be evident in who I am: neither flaunting who I am nor hiding it.
(My apologies for going on about the same things, and my future apologies for probably doing so again before overly long.)
12 December 2010
Briefly Touching In
I've been meaning to post on this for a while, and I am not doing so at the moment, but I really love participating in Orthodox Christian vespers. Perhaps it is the prayers for the Queen, perhaps it is praying with people who understand icons, I do not know. But there is something that I find incredibly comfortable about their vespers.
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