Monday, June 3, 2013

Happy 2nd birthday!

The early hours of the day after tomorrow on 5 June I will celebrate the beginning of my third year on the hormone replacement therapy. My "toddler" year, the year past, the time one gains speech and self-expression, if I were a true toddler, was full of wonder, excitement, and... love. Love that led to the deepest meditation. On my own nature. On human nature. The deepest meditation that led to the acceptance of a part of me. A small, but a significant part. The year past, as I look back, was another year in my human experience of the good, the bad, the great, the ugly. A lot of things haven't gone as planned, but what are plans, after all, but simple milestones you set for yourself. And what are they, if every day of your existence is deeply meaningful in its serenity and beauty, what does anything else matter? Everything served its purpose. As have people in my life. As have all the negatives and positives. With my second birthday around the corner, I can only say "I am grateful I am alive. I am grateful I am me." Nothing else matters.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Karma, destiny, gods

Fullness. Contentment. Stretch "it" a little further, define "it" better: happiness, void. Your presence was simply love. Nothing but love, tangible, palpable, so strong. I sat there eyeing from the corner of my eyes one of the enemies of the LGBT rights movement in Mongolia, a so-called playright who wrote a play condemning gay men as pedophiles, perpetuating one of the most dangerous, and needless to say, false myths against gay men. Then, she came to me a few years ago asking me to translate her poems into English, to which I set only one condition: for her to apologise publicly to the LGBT community for misinformation she spread through her very successful play of 8-9 years ago. She refused flatly saying that she didn't come up with that play idea, that she wrote it on someone's request. I said artists were the intellectual driving force of a society, and they must realise their responsibility, moral, spiritual and human, be held accountable for the ideas they spread. She didn't think so, a few years ago. What does she think now, I wondered. Not that it mattered to me. Her karma had given it all to her: seeing her like this I saw she was unhappy, undesired, ridiculed, perhaps, even. I was shocked to see her disfigured by extreme obesity, her pent-up sexuality that warped on itself, her sad, now already old and insignificant, even in the days of her youth never pretty, face. She saw me, began telling her retinue something about "neither man, nor woman", showing again her true identity. As I sat there first seething, then musing about it all, I saw you. I was reminded that everything serves some or the other purpose, that I must remain calm and detached, that it was not for me to judge her, or rejoice at her state. Then I began to wonder why you would choose to come down again and again despite knowing to the fullest the pain and suffering, life and death, darkness and light -- everything that a human existence consists of -- despite overcoming it all such a long time ago. Coming down with nothing but love, again and again. Bhakti. I understood, not through heart, but through head why my sister cries every time she sees you. If I let myself feel it all, I would've cried, too. Instead, I chose to bask in your divine love. Your love for humanity, that serene, lightful feeling of mercy and understanding, I have often felt when doing meditation. Especially meditation induced by love. It was incredible to feel it from someone else. I am blessed to have met you.


As many of you know, we are doing an online crowdfunding for the first time in the history of the Centre, and it happens to be for the Equa...