We live in a box.
It’s a 960 square foot box, but a box nonetheless.
I love the safety and security of our box. It’s warm and cozy and light filled.
It’s open and inviting and private. It’s easy to get too, but off the beaten path.
It’s large enough for our families to visit comfortably, but just the right size for the two of us.
It’s not so big that it consumes our time. We have little trouble keeping up with it.
We know where everything is. It’s familiar.
We know where the light switches are and how far to turn the faucets to get the temperature of the bath water just right.
We know where dust collects and spiders make webs.
We know we’ll trip the breaker if we turn the microwave on while the little electric fireplace is also running.
There is great comfort in its familiarity.
It holds few surprises and provides us a foundation on which to live.
It gives us too, a place to step out of and away from and gives us a place to come back to.
Our box both protects us and confines us. It is our sanctuary. If we never venture out, it becomes our prison.
Our mind is also a box. It is all those things our home is. It is our sanctuary. Yet, if we never venture out, if we never step outside our own thoughts and ideas and beliefs, our minds becomes our prison.
I use to think I lived far outside any box. It turned out, I’d just found a community of boxes just like mine.
If we don’t step out of our boxes and our communities of identical boxes, our world is destined to be small and truth destined to be defined by the delusions of our own mind or the minds of the fearful like-minded few we let in.
The object of the protest was not the church, but the group they had invited in, the Exodus group.
If you aren’t familiar with them, they try to shame and brainwash people into believing they aren’t really gay.
We wanted to go, but Lee had to work this afternoon and I didn’t want to give up my morning with him and go alone.
So, instead, we took out 3 month old Boston Terrier puppy, Sam and went for a long walk along the lake shore by our home.
The drought that has plagued our region the past year has done us a great favor.
Tiny islands that are normally only assessable by boat are now connected to the shore and to each other by sandbars exposed by the declining water level.
We can literally walk to an island and then to another and another and another.
These tiny bits of land are untouched by progress or economic decline. Owned by the Army Corp of Engineers, they have been left in their natural state and serve as a refuge for wildlife.
Now, they serve as refuge for us and our neighbors and others who have discovered how easy it is to get to them and how beautiful they are.
Many walk with their dogs and even let their pets off leash once they get across the first sandbar.
It is rare when we walk there and not meet others walking with their dogs, jogging or even sitting on a beach beside a small fire. In the mornings, we see the evidence of late night revelers or even campers.
We want Sam to be very social.
Our other dog, a chihuahua/Pomeranian mix, though an angel to us, is a terror around dogs she doesn’t know. She doesn’t care that she weighs only five pounds. There is no dog she would not attack if given the chance. It takes her time to warm up to other dogs and people. For that reason, she stays at home, but we walk Sam every day and sometimes twice each day. Because of my health, to do this is a double joy after the years of not being able to walk much of anywhere.
Sam thinks each person we meet is there just to say hello to her. She also thinks every other dog wants to play.
She never even barks but licks and jumps and shakes with welcoming joy. When it is just Sam and I, we often make new friends, stopping and chatting with other dog families.
When it is the three is us, Lee, Sam and I, we often meet the same response we meet out in the rest of the world. We get the polite hello or nod, but little else, despite our best efforts.
This morning, was different.
We met a couple with a blond spaniel. They had beautiful British accents. They told us how they’d traveled all the around every reachable island and except for a few rocky areas, had traveled with ease.
We met a very young couple sitting by a fire eating Girl Scout cookies. They especially loved Sam and Sam thoroughly enjoyed climbing into the girl’s lap, getting a little closer to the open cookie box.
The couple with the two Corgis were extremely nice as well. Even the jogger in the blue jacket nodded and halfway smiled.
I’m quite sure we all live in very different boxes and communities of boxes, but this morning, we each stepped outside them to play with a little dog.
I’m not sure who stepped outside first, us or them.
We were a bit like Gilligan’s Island, a bunch of strangers, strange to each other, together on a deserted island… Sam would be our Gilligan… uncharted territory for sure.
Who can resist that face?
February 18, 2012 Posted by New Allie | The Gay Me, The Straight Me | Boston Terrier, Dog, Female to Male, ftm, Gilligan, Gilligan's Island, Girl Scout, Girl Scout cookie, human rights, LGBT, Narrowmindedness, Recreation, same sex marriage, Same-sex relationship, THinking outside the box, transgender, Transman, United States | 2 Comments
What’s It About?
I know what you are probably thinking, that one doesn’t become suddenly gay. I agree. However, I was thrust headfirst into the gay community, my identity as heterosexual gone, the moment I fell in love with the love of my life.
Lee is a man, living in a female body. I fell in love with the man he really is, but also with the woman the world sees. To that world, we are a same sex couple.
I spent over fifty years as a white heterosexual woman. I lived in that comfortable place of mass acceptance, void of bigotry. The only discrimination I ever felt was as a woman and as a person of short stature. I never feared to walk down a busy street holding my love’s hand, until now.
This blog is about my observations as someone suddenly perceived by the world as gay, as a lesbian. I believe I offer a unique perspective.
Check out my other blog about my journey with heart disease.
I grew up wanting a fairy tale life
and searched for a knight just for me
after kissing whole armies off bullfrogs and toads
I gave up and set my dream free
I focused instead on spiritual things
and thought that my business enough
to keep me content and to fill up my heart
with accolades, letters and stuff
but deep down inside an emptiness grew
and I had no idea I was aching
for the dream long forgotten and then thrown away
leaving my heart slowly breaking
then out of the blue walked right into my life
my knight and my perfect mister
not looking at all like I had imagined
but more like by best girlfriend’s sister
still dressed like a man and so debonair
a hero with intent not at random
and out of my dream rode my prince to my side
as if never had my dream been abandoned
the gender lines blur but forever is he
the love of my life and my living
kind, strong and caring, funny and bright
generous, sensitive, giving
so some call us gay or lesbo or such
and say what we have is not real
some cast us out or don’t let us in
and think they know best how we feel
all that they don’t understand
they just cannot see that love is what’s real
and the genitals don’t make the man
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