pasties

I went to a spirit circle today. 

Putting all my stuff away two days ago, I couldn't bear it again today, not with the sinus stab in my head, so I went without vesting, without my vestments.

Rhea, the tall one in the opaque "Love That Pink! lipstick was welcoming.  Her wife, well, not so much.

I spent some time doing the capsule bio, and soon enough Rhea remembered when we met in the early 1990s.  She was Sascha then, and I was "guy-in-a-dress." It was in those days, in those bars that she met her wife.

Ahh, those years, those tears.

Rhea told me who else was coming.  It was the earnest transsexual contingent, lead by catwoman Platine.  I chose to go as they were arriving.  I have been the subject of the bile, and that doesn't make the place safe for me, not withstanding the vibes I was getting from the almost cerified Interfaith Minister, the wife.

I slipped by them in my Hedwig & The Angry Inch hat — I don't think anyone nticed — and felt the bump again.   

After the e-mail I wrote to a friend this morning who wants a rappoachment between us, but only if I agree to enforcing a list of limits & boundaries.  Hell, the last time she offered that deal, about 8 years ago, I passed.  It's fine for her to set boundaries, but it's also fine for me to look at those limits and pass on trying to satisfy them.  I see them as impossible to satisfy and difficult to try.  We were never talking about me talking to her relatives, showing up unannounced, or repeatedly calling and not respecting any "I don't have time to talk." 

What we were talking about is her heart, and how she was pulled towards me and she didn't want that to happen.  All relationships are the same says ACIM, and this wasn't about romance, but was about needing to stay connected more to other things in the world than to me.  I get that.  It's why people decide they need to split from me and my view, no matter how warm, compelling and seductive it may be. There is a cost to looking from the outside, and that cost is often more than some are able to pay.

I stopped at a Chinese take-way and ordered pork in garlic sauce.  The curry pork I was given was dry and spicy hot with no other flavours.  Ick. 

But I sat alone in the car and ate it, thinking of that room where the spirit of all was supposed to be welcome and where I felt so very unsafe.  I thought of where I was driving to where things were also unsafe, in another way.

If I could change the past would things be changed?

But I can't.  And this is where I am, scraping cash to get bad curry I didn't order.

Ah.

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