of chest colds and holidays

Happy New Year! A short breather before the next One. I should be using the time to prepare for Yom Kippur, but I’m sick. Not deathly ill or anything. A chest cold. Just run down (check that lack of sleep description from an earlier post) and fried from having led 98% of the 9 hours of services in the past 3 days: singing, chanting, reading from the Torah, blowing the shofar, carrying and sustaining the community and on and on. That and the rest of my life. Ironic, but not surprising it resulted in a chest cold.

All this while holding a heavy heart. Not only am I poised to face the longstanding pain of my trans-ness, but my team, the Red Sox went out with such a profound lack of grace, humor or team spirit that they made history. By this I mean, with a 9-game lead to enter the post-season playoffs, in less than one month, these guys unceremoniously flushed themselves down the toilet. It’s bad enough to be flushed down a toilet, but nearly impossible to flush oneself! And yet, they did it. And with seeming ease and apathy. That lack of cohesiveness, togetherness, purpose that is reflected in so many places was the real culprit, the real downfall. Isn’t that always the case though? It is the shatteredness we speak of at this time of year. The fragmented pieces of the whole not in harmony that challenges the shalem, the completeness, the happiness in life.

So part of me is feeling rather down, on edge, pushed, pulled, fragmented, fractured, reduced, spent. At the same time I’m also feeling on the precipice of newness, feeling eager as I enter this year, a year filled with possibility, and potential and hope, anticipating peeling off last year’s layer and seeing what is underneath, what is ready to bloom, what growth I may have gained. I’m excited to try new things, new adventures, create myself new again. All on the firm foundation of last year’s learning, experience and nurturing.

I want to be able to ask myself the question, “WHAT am I?” without feeling the shame. I want to collect the shards of my whole self and put them back together without hesitation, gluing them into place with love and acceptance. How hard must that be?

Driving in my car yesterday I literally had to turn off sports radio. Sports radio is the only radio I generally listen to. And whether I am in the car for a minute or an hour, sports radio is on. But given the status of my team and having to listen to caller after caller dissect, berate and badmouth players, I couldn’t take the negativity any longer. So I turned AM off.

I pushed the FM button. Lady Gaga was playing.  An interesting message to consider:

MY MAMA TOLD ME WHEN I WAS YOUNG
WE ARE ALL BORN SUPERSTARS
SHE ROLLED MY HAIR AND PUT MY LIPSTICK ON
IN THE GLASS OF HER BOUDOIR

“THERE’S NOTHIN WRONG WITH LOVIN WHO YOU ARE”
SHE SAID, “‘CAUSE HE MADE YOU PERFECT, BABE”
“SO HOLD YOUR HEAD UP GIRL AND YOU’LL GO FAR,
LISTEN TO ME WHEN I SAY”

I’M BEAUTIFUL IN MY WAY
‘CAUSE GOD MAKES NO MISTAKES
I’M ON THE RIGHT TRACK BABY
I WAS BORN THIS WAY

DON’T HIDE YOURSELF IN REGRET
JUST LOVE YOURSELF AND YOU’RE SET
I’M ON THE RIGHT TRACK BABY
I WAS BORN THIS WAY

NO MATTER GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BI,
LESBIAN, TRANSGENDERED LIFE
I’M ON THE RIGHT TRACK BABY
I WAS BORN TO SURVIVE
NO MATTER BLACK, WHITE OR BEIGE
CHOLA OR ORIENT MADE
I’M ON THE RIGHT TRACK BABY
I WAS BORN TO BE BRAVE

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About halitentwo

i am. god is. we are. as soon as i write something about me i change, am different, evolving. i am trans. i am a parent. i am a partner. i am a human. i am attempting to live a well-lived life in the spaces in between, beyond definition, fluid, dynamic, omnifarious and always changing. hopefully growing.
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