The Test Of Our Time

What a week friends. What. A. Week. On Wednesday morning, bright and early, after waking up and learning the results, I headed over to the Dalton School, very much in shock, to speak with some of the parents about my memoir Beautiful Monster: A Becoming. One of the moms asked me how, as a trans person, I was able to get out of bed in the morning. She asked it super sweetly, but that was the gist. I responded that I had to choose what kind of world to live in, one of hope, light and kindness or one of darkness, paranoia and foreboding and there was only ever one of those that successfully got me up. That was Wednesday.

Then I left the city for Kripalu in the Berkshires, to teach my first R&R weekend there. And the reality started to set in. After an extremely brutal, exhausting and heartbreaking election season, and years, really, of my kind being dragged through the mud by both parties in every possible iteration of our existence, ending with the democrats blaming us for losing the election, there was nothing left for me to do but set down the path of the Kripalu labyrinth, step by step, to visit an old friend and see what wisdom he could offer.

Sure enough, there, at the end of the circuitous trail, my old pal Buddha greeted me from his perch, just as weathered and joyful as ever, trickster smile unchanged and a bit annoying if I’m being honest, a little stone right in front of him painted in vibrant pink practically shouting with glee, “May this restore your faith in humanity”. I laughed out loud, finding the directive quite irritating, I wish it were that easy old friend, I wish it were that easy. Pass go and collect 200 to restore your faith in this shit show. Just like that. My resistance reared its fiery dragon head big time.

Then I thought, well, what if it were just that easy?

I started the trek back annoyed. My bare feet, despite me, delighting in the texture of the cool dewy grass. I’ve known Buddha a long time. We’ve been pals since I was a hot mess in my early twenties (even though I’m still pretty much a hot mess now), so I knew he was purposefully fucking with me— as he does, handing me a koan, a magnificent riddle. Poop. What was I to do with this?

Every step back, I actively argued with him in my head, This isn’t funny. This is serious. Life or death serious. You just get to sit there and smile like you know everything. And I don’t have any answers. I’m exhausted, hurt and angry.

And slowly a miracle started to take shape, I realized that I am also feeling very awake and extremely ignited. I am quite clear that the time has come to truly stand in my values. And that I feel equipped and capable of doing so. I am done settling for the bottomest of the bottoms of the barrel. I have love, I have community, I have leadership skills, I have a vivid imagination, I’m dynamic and smart and I ‘m hella scrappy. I know who I am and what I am willing and not willing to do. And I can activate to protect what matters most to me.

And guess, what? By the time I stepped back through the portal into the material world, my faith had been restored, kind of. In humanity. In my humanity. And in my Self. Because if I’m feeling this way, if I’m feeling my true edges, then perhaps maybe so are you.

So grieve, my darlings, get your primal screams out and let your tears flow freely, or laugh like a maniac, or dance under the moon, or whatever you need to do in order to connect with your verve. And take as long as you need. And then, use your disenfranchisement and your rage and turn it into action. Let it fill every pore of you, let it stoke the your internal fire and then wake up one day to decide that your government does not get to choose who you are. It does not have power over your values, and it does not get to dictate what you do. Only you have that power.

Then join the resistance. Because we will need all our strength. Our yoga practice tempers us for moments such as these. And we are at a true inflection point.The readiness is all, as our sad sap Hamlet says. And you, my loves, are ready. If not, you might just have to be.