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Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts

7.26.2010

Seeing in RED: Eyes Wiped Clean

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear."
--Nelson Mandela

How many of us are afraid of HIV/AIDS? Are you? Did you just contemplate closing your browser after reading that question? If so, I would wager that you are. If you kept it open, still inventory yourself. You may be afraid of it, but willing to learn more. That is what we need to do to relinquish any fear we have from the hold it loves to keep on us. We learn about it. We experience it. We live a life that includes it in some aspect of our being. Now, (obviously) I am not saying "Hey, let's all go out and get HIV, so we can have some compassion..." But how many of us are too scared of it to even include it somewhere in our lives?

I'm beginning by calling out myself.
I have been SO scared of even approaching the topic of HIV/AIDS ANYwhere in my life. I have judged those who have contracted HIV as whores, sluts, irresponsible men who have no idea how to take care of themselves, or have any compassion for anyone else, so why should I have compassion for them??? HOWEVER, what I see now is that I chose to live in that judgment because it was too scary, as an uneducated gay man, for me to be able to approach a positive individual and say "I love you." What an atrocity, for that would mean that I might be labeled as positive! I could never endure such judgment -- the very same judgment I was casting and expecting others to endure.

I continue by calling you out.
How much do you know about HIV? How much have you educated yourself? How often do you reach out to those who have HIV? How many excuses have you already thrown up in defense of yourself? Too often, we believe it is not OUR burden to bear. Well, TRUST, it is not a burden. It is a gift -- in my opinion -- to be able to see someone with such beautiful compassion and see them through eyes wiped clean.
How often do you pity someone you've learned has HIV? How often do you ask if someone is "clean" (implying that if they have HIV or AIDS, they are "dirty")? How often do those with HIV/AIDS keep it a secret? How ashamed are they that they have it? On the other hand, let's be accountable: How many times do we judge those who live with HIV, fostering an environment in which they feel ashamed to be who they really are?

These are the words of a friend who is gay, lives with HIV, and has lived in Salt Lake City:
"The Community in Salt Lake are the prime example of hypocrites. They want equality from a church, yet they don't accept people with HIV...the community is SO uninformed. I hated being known as someone created by a community and not for who I really am. So I dealt with the humiliation and segregation from those who I called my friends."
This is ONE person. I've spoken with another friend about HIV/AIDS -- a public force in our community -- and he feels similarly.

Tyler Helms, who created IMPACT Red, now writes a bi-weekly column in The Advocate, called "Living the Questions" about what it is like to do just that. This decade is the time of education -- positive members of society truly are living the questions such that the rest of us may choose to educate ourselves with the answers. This is enough for which to honor these positive heroes. Tyler writes:
"I was finding that society expected full disclosure, would hold you
accountable for any risk, but was virtually unprepared for the openness. But demanding honesty and integrity is hard to do in a society that encourages truth but would prefer not to know it. In a city....where you will be heckled for speaking out about a truth that impacts us all. It even gets the most vocal of us down.
"But those willing to embark on a relationship with someone positive seem rare. The majority of people I meet are more willing to donate than go on a date. Perhaps this is why so many keep their secret from those they love. In the days following my December 1 public disclosure, I received an unsettling number of notes from people who are positive but have told no one. I sadly understand why they don’t. The fear of being alone, being judged, or not finding love often makes disclosure too great a risk — a risk that still is prevalent in 2010. To think they keep this secret from loved ones, hookups, and in some cases long-term partners is shocking. It’s also dangerous to our society."

What do WE do to educate? About the facts, and about the emotion? What do we do to encourage debate, to instigate learning, to honor those who teach? What are we doing to further this epidemic? How are OUR choices impacting US as a whole? What is our perspective around those who live their days with HIV/AIDS? Would we -- really -- reach out to someone who becomes positive?

Because whether we are gay or straight, or positive or negative, the answers -- and the questions themselves -- involve us aligning as one bloc: loving, powerful, clear and COMMITTED.

You and me, we're cut from the same cloth
It seems to some we famously get along
But you and me are strangers to each other
'Cause you and me: competitive to the bone.
Such tragedy to trample on each other with how much we've endured,
We are not all for one and one for all.
You and me have felt impotent in our skin,
You and me have taken it out on each other.
Such a pity to disavow each other with how far we've come --
With how strong we've been!
You and me are on this pendulum together,
You and me, with scarcity still fueling,
You and me have made it harder for the other;
We forget how hard separatism has been.
You and me, we can help change their minds together (with)
You and me in alignment until the end.
--Alanis Morissette, from the song "Sister Blister"

5.18.2010

How Are You Doing?

Right now I am battling with my self-worth.

*I had a threesome last night and totally proved my sexual prowess to myself again, reaffirming it after a LONG absence. On the other hand, I want one of the guys that was involved to be intensely attracted to me because I am attracted to him and I've tied up my worth in how much someone to whom I am attracted is attracted to me.

*My heart is fighting to retain my worth, and the battle is only going on because my head has collected experiences that want to barricade my from hurt by prepping me with the memories and saying, "Look, you're not worth anything, so don't get your hopes up." My head truly has the best intentions; it doesn't realize that when it says that, it hurts me.

*I love me. I truly do. I think I am beautiful, I think my pudge is cute, and my body hair is actually quite sexy :) I have amazing social skills, I am the life and center of the party, I motivate people to have fun, I understand business navigation, I know how to take risks and I know how to live life! I am quite incredible! :)

*I am not the best friend in the world right now. I still treat people like robots, like they are less than, and like they should bend to my will. But that doesn't AT ALL make me a bad person. It just means I have some loving and learning to do. :) What a brilliant way to look at it, Ryan: I get to practice loving people! How awesome :)

*One big reason I get so stuck in my battle for self-worth is EXPECTATIONS. My expectations for others really blocks people from trusting me and feeling valued by me, which all people want. Also, my expectations for myself get in my way of building relationships because I get scared that I won't be good enough and I get stuck in the fear. However, there is a beautiful, inspiring Greatness that casts that Shadow: my expectations for myself and others is what inspires us to dream big and achieve things we previously thought were impossible. Then we can be proud of ourselves for accomplishing said item and thereby increase our self-worth. It's all about delivery. When delivered through judgment or fear, I get in the way. When I state something grounded in belief, love and hope, I inspire.

Cheers to practice! :)


Love, Peace and Kisses,

Ry

4.29.2010

What Do You See When You Look Back At Your Wasted Life?

When I was growing up gay and alone, I invested a lot of my time and life into the glory of music. I always made sure to schedule choir and Musical Theatre classes into my schedule during school, and I envisioned myself as The Next Big Thing. I knew that I was gorgeous (even though reality was a pimply, hairy, 200-lb. pubescent body), I knew that I was the most talented (though I never actually excelled musically as advanced as many of my friends), and knew my name would end up in lights. Throughout all this, I kept my eye on the prize, idolizing Madonna, Cher and, of course, The King – Michael Jackson. You know, the ones who had made their lives out of seemingly nothing to become the unbeatable international musical icons they are today. I knew that one day, I would make myself known as loudly as they, and even one day regretfully but naturally overthrow Mr. Jackson as the rightful heir to the title “King of Pop.” And Madonna would be my slave-bitch. Not even kidding you. But there was something I didn’t realize about myself that whole time that would always impede the actualization of my dreams.

On June 25, 2009, I realized: I had completely displaced all my talent, passion and power on Michael Jackson. I had unwittingly become his victim. And he didn’t care. Hell, he didn’t even know. And he wouldn’t have wanted it if he did know (I know this because we’ve had many deep, authentic conversations inside of my head). I soaked up everything that was Madonna, Cher and Michael, and gave them nothing of value back – except my idolatry. I also gave them my sorrow and regret over being Mormon and disobeying the first Commandment for them (they were more important to me than God could ever be, even as devout as I was, so I always felt guilty), but I can’t say that was of any value to them.

When I was a child, growing up with all these amazing songs, they were my only friends. They knew exactly how I felt at exactly the right times. They could console me, pump me up, or stir controversy within me, and it felt good to be so connected to something since everyone around me seemed to want to NOT be connected to me in the least.

“Thriller” brought me closer to my estranged sister, made me feel like I wasn’t alone and that someone in my family actually liked me, and taught me that being a freak may be scary, but in the end it’s pretty fucking cool because you can be in a music video for it. “Bad” and “Beat It” taught me that as much as you might get hurt, or be scared of someone or something, you don’t have to hurt people to resolve the conflict in your life – which gave me hope that maybe someday my dad would treat me like he actually loved me, not beating his “Prince,” as he so often (ironically) called me. “Heal the World” taught me how much I really cared about my mother and would stand up for her no matter what the consequences. “Remember the Time” taught me how to dance. “Dangerous” and “In the Closet” taught me that I was really probably too young to be listening to some Michael Jackson songs haha! “Jam” taught me that no one is perfect, even someone you idolize, and brought me slowly into a new world of music, as did “The Girl Is Mine”. “Billie Jean” offered me my first taste of MTV and the amazing art of music video creation. Nowadays, the only way I can even successfully begin writing lyrics is by creating a music video in my head and then taking the lyrics through that plot, so I don’t know where I would be musically without that amazing influence. “Black or White” brought me international intrigue, broadening my world and love for tigers “Man In The Mirror” made me feel happy and relieved that maybe there was someone else out there who would do the work that I was doing in my own self-actualization! And “You Are Not Alone” allowed me to safely feel all the pain of everything I have experienced in my life and sob and not get hit for doing so. That song helped me get through so many nights, whether I was feeling alone, not enough, bruised, out of place or tortured, as I so often did between the ages of seven and twenty.

So when Michael died that day in June, my whole world broke apart, crushed down on top of me, jumped back up, tried to sew itself together again, and succumbed to its own weight and broke again, crushing everything about me one more time. I literally had no idea what to do with my life when I learned he had died. I stayed home all day every day for days, watching the news, staying updated on where and when he would be buried and fiercely tried to find the means to fly to Neverland before the week ended so that I could grieve properly. I didn’t go to Neverland. Instead I stayed in front of my TV and bawled. I cried so hard, it was worse than a break up. Michael was like my big brother, always looking out for me in my childhood and offering me safe refuge from the pain I experienced at school at home and at church.

When Michael died, I lost a large piece of me with him, because I gave up a large part of me to him and his music. I created my world in his, therefore when his world was no longer, neither was a large part of mine. I had not learned that there is a world of difference between leveraging the inspiration of others to further inspire and displacing all my inspiration on someone else rather than myself. I got to learn that lesson that day, and am constantly being reminded it. Because I went for so long without feeling the truth of who I was, I am now building up my soul. It’s kind of nice, because I get to consciously, with the knowledge I have garnered over the years, pick whatever I want to be and whatever I feel, and that is me. But it’s also really fucking scary because I have NOTHING to fall back onto that works. I’ve never had a system in place that actually works for me regarding having a soul. And that’s scary shit to be like “Hey, I have no conscious soul” and not have any safety net to fall into when I am tired and worn out and exasperated. Luckily, I have had a lot of great friends and family members step forward (not necessarily knowing that this is what is going on) and support me when I am completely drained and out of ability to sculpt. I’ve been really lucky in that aspect. Thank you to Jonathan Orlofsky, Lori Baldwin, John Rogers, Mom, Nicole Rieger, Jackie Rieger, Will Sloan, Alex Fauver, Sarah Barney, Melisa Pehrson, Kencie Raddon, Ruthanne Clifford and Eric Dawes who have (perhaps consciously) been willing to fill my cup when it had been fully imbibed.

Alright, Dollies, I love you all and my body just told me it is now time for me to sleep.

Love, Peace and Kisses,

Ry

4.12.2010

If You Love People-Watching...

WOW! A great friend of mine, Kyle Burdash, referred me to dooce.com, where I found this nugget! I really lack words for how I feel about the power, beauty and inspiration I feel when reading this. The question is asked: Can you tell your life story in 20 words or less? At first, I didn't see the power of this practice, so I ventured over to cure my curiosity...boy, am I glad I did! First of all, it is hella powerful to see what words people use to define themselves and their paths. Second, it is beautiful and inspiring to ME to see so many people indicating a life that started with deep pain -- such as RAPE and family members COMMITTING SUICIDE -- and see their story end with "hope" or "looking forward" and the like. Take a gander. Take a goose.

Go deep in a shallow manner.