The Unclad Soul

I want to run along the ocean and feel the waves wash over my feet erasing my footprints in the sand I want to skydive and sense myself falling watching the landscape below me seeing everything so clearly so cleanly until I love it all more than ever before I want to play guitar in an old bar and sing on a wooden stage with a drink at my feet making music that turns the crowd toward their dreams until all the hurts in the room melt in tears I want to write beautiful lines and put them in a book where the pages burn with longing and the reader sighs and blinks and walks toward a lost love until all of self is whole again I want to stand on a mountain ridge where the sun spreads light on slow moving cattle below where the Alfalfa smells sweet and the sky is a cloudless blue I want to ride a galloping horse in an open field until the air stings my eyes and I hear the pounding of the horse’s hooves and feel that floating that comes when you’re carried by forces beyond y...

I have a friend in Los Angeles who asked me to partner with her on a book project. She is a bright, gifted writer, with a personal story of pain and abuse. She is a gay woman who grew up in a strict Christian home filled with rules and moral demands. Though she knew at a young age she was gay, she had no way of processing that with her parents. When she finally did come out to them, which was an act of enormous courage, she was rebuked, sent to a physician who sexually abused her, and later was put in a mental facility to be treated, not for the abuse she endured, but because she was gay. She grew up in the church, attending services three times a week, doing her best to follow all the rules while still trying to deal with her sexual identity. The church provided no support for her struggle. No affirmation for her as a gay person. Only condemnation. Her parents participated in her rejection. She eventually left home, estranged from her family, and deeply hurt and bitter to...

“Only my books anoint me,  and a few friends,  those who reach into my veins.”  ~ Anne Sexton, "The Complete Poems"

If I was told there was a bomb in my building and I had five minutes to evacuate my apartment I’d grab a grocery bag and quickly toss these items into it: 1. A photo of my grandparents, Mom and Pop and me, when I was 15 years old. I learned what love is made of from them. I learned what it is to be kissed on and hugged in arms so tender they felt like God’s arms. I discovered self worth from those two angels in human flesh. Of all the people in my life, they were the ones who made me feel I counted. Honestly, whatever capacity I have to love others came from them. 2. A sentimental, dog-eared, stars in the margin copy of Pat Conroy’s, “The Prince of Tides.” It is a book I have read three times and often return to for its wisdom. It is a harsh, profoundly tragic novel, the story of a family so broken and tortured by such flawed and wounded people that it is sometimes difficult to turn the next page. And yet it is the story of such Herculean courage and endurance that you want...