Hello Broken Hearts Club Band, it's been awhile.
Well, it's really Fall in Portlandia. It's a time of hard transitions, challenging anniversaries, layers of grief, emotional pain, increasing darkness, and challenging myself to be more open to the love and support of my community, as well as asking for that love and support. It's also a time of receiving all sorts of signs for me; signs of support from friends and support from Spirit. Some of those signs are pretty obvious. I made a pilgrimage to Ravenna Ravine park in Seattle and picked up litter to honor the Goddess. While doing so I found a silver ring that fits my pinky and says in Chinese characters on the front, "I Love You" and inscribed inside, it says the word "LOVE". Thanks for that Spirit.
I started this blog as sort of a record for myself, as a resource for myself, and as a way for me to process my own grief and broken, rebroken, healing heart. I realize now, even more than ever, that "this", the writing and sharing of this process, is a part of my process. What a web we weave. There are soooo many spiders in the garden this time of year. Every morning I walk through a web when I leave the stairs to my house. The veil is thin and the web is thick.
I'm going to the memorial for a beloved friend this weekend. He was an amazing man, loved, admired, and appreciated by thousands and the best barista on Capitol Hill. He died in a bike crash at age 51. I don't know why, but for some reason, having born witness and felt the social and cultural impact over the past 30 years from the premature deaths of 300,000+ gay men in this country from the plague, I feel especially challenged by the "normal" early, premature, tragic, unfortunate, deaths of other gay men I know. I want a "get out of grief" free card, or I want "frequent griever flyer miles" or something. I don't just feel my own grief when these tragic events happen, I feel the grief of the community. A community that already deals with such layers of "complicated grief," "unresolved grief," "anticipatory grief," "survivor guilt," and untold cases of undiagnosed, unrecognized PTSD. I don't even ever really try and talk about this with my heterosexual friends and if I talk about it with queers under 40 it feels like I have to make it a "teachable moment."
If you want to know more about my friend, the fabulous Brian Fairbrother, here is a link to his obituary in the Seattle Gay News. The picture above is from the early 90's when Ti and I were having a big "Chroma" party where everyone was supposed to dress up colorfully. Brian was always colorful, and loved being contrary, so he work black of course.
I'm off to the cutting wheels to spend an hour shaping some lingam shaped jet mourning pendants. That's a part of the process too. I guess living our lives in spite of the process is also part of the process.
Warm regards on this windy day, Leo Sunshine
