Delicate Boy

I am a delicate boy. Strong, loud, and at times as difficult as a pamphlet, but slender, tender, and as light as a feather too. When I am in transition people tend to stay away from me. What can you say? What can you do? I called a friend yesterday to say “Hey, let’s have coffee tomorrow” and he agreed. I need a friend today, and it’s a blessing to have friends, but what I meant to say was “Hi” and “I love you” and somehow what I said was something else entirely. Where are these words coming from? Who is this person in raybans walking down pierce street in the sun laughing and wiping the tears out of his eyes? I need a nap.

Yesterday was a huge day for me. I connected with my mother. I came out of the closet. I found myself drowning in so much light… so much space. There is so much love in this world, and I am so happy I can barely keep my feet on the ground. So I let the snot run free, and grip the asphalt below me with all the strength my brittle fingernails can muster and laugh, and sing, and cry, and recoil in horror at how my mind responds to the wilderness. I could say, and have been saying to myself all night between dreams that there is no new frontier… there is only fear. But that’s bullshit isn’t it? What’s the use of exploration of fear? That seems stupid. I’ve spent way too much of my life already tromping about in my own muck. No. No way. But then how are you supposed to contain all the feelings which come flying out of the bright, bright light? Who can you tell? Whom does one confide?

Oh I write furious little inventories. Yes I do. And it always helps to talk with my mentor, my friends, and as long as what I’m working out in my head isn’t about them then it’s usually pretty useful as a tool. But somehow my own minutia has grown rote. I’ve written this horeshit before. I welcome the wisdom and insight of my friends and family. My sponsor amazes me — although he doesn’t seem to like me — My mother astounds me, my sister tickles me, my cousin grounds me, my friends and associates are here, calm and clear. And my love.. oh my love. I guess I save the treasures for you. Lucky you.

It seems I have difficulty with connection, disconnection, and reconnection. The love in my heart, and the presence I feel always is beautiful and empowering. But how does this translate into real life? It is most curious to be fourty three years old and find myself just about ready to take a stab at growing up.

Delicate Boy – Luckystars listen