Please stand with your Trans Brothers and Sisters

James Corden made this video when the stirrings of the threat to oust our Trans brothers and sisters from the military. Unfortunately that then threat is now real.

Unfortunately the threat deepens as that “administration” has decided to push the discrimination further by now attempting to sway the SCOTUS to rule that title VII does not extend to sexual identity therefore enshrining discrimination via precedent. In other words the executive branch pressuring the judicial branch to interpret that anyone can discriminate against and fire (or deny housing to, or, or, or…) someone for simply being transgender. Anyone or any entity.

Please stand with your fellow human beings, in our very communities, who are simply living their lives, living them to the best of their abilities. What’s in between anyone’s legs is between them and their god or non-god. Period.

Oh, and mark my words, they aren’t planning on stopping here.

“First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—                                                              Because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”

…Martin Niemöller

Advertisements

The Choice

I am exhausted.

I pause to take a good look into the mirror and examine why.

Why have a stopped reading my blogs? I read only the news these days.

Why am I usually feeling angst, anger, frustration and fear? I read only the news these days.

Why am I tired and distracted? I read only the news these days.

Why have I started feeling defeated and depressed? I read only the news these days.

Why do I only read the news these days? Because I’ve allowed the fear and alarm that is being spewed every single moment to enter into my psyche and alter my thoughts, dreams and values.

I have a choice. I can choose to continue down the slope I’m on and into a bad spiral, or I can choose to make another choice.

This morning for the first morning in recent memory, I chose to start my day by starting a book I’ve been wanting to read. I got my coffee, spinach smoothie and plain oatmeal and read as I consumed my daily breakfast.  By no coincidence the book I started today is appropriately named The Choice  by Dr. Edith Eva Egar.

My day started better. I read, I thought and I felt better. I blog to share, but I also blog to reinforce. Reinforce, inside of me, the better choice I just made.

I am better equipped to help myself, my family, my friends, my community, my country and my world if I put my oxygen mask on first. My oxygen is positivity and the good that still really does surround me. Through that I can find light.

Just do right (reprise for today)

A repost of a previous video? Yes because I need reminders. -However the accompanying contemplation is new for this reposting.-

This is a clip I turn to anytime I need sanity. If I’m uncomfortable it’s is most likely because I either have done something wrong or am considering doing something wrong.

I have a choice. I can decide to do what’s right, or if I’ve already made the bad choice I can make a new choice to correct a wrong. I can do right and I can make right.

It’s easier, at least for me, to do right to begin with so will I strive to do my best and to try to do right, if at all possible, all the time in the future. If I slip and make a mistake, I will strive to correct and make it right.

“Doing right gives you the kind of protection even body guards can’t give you.” -Maya Angelou

Doing right enriches my soul. Doing right brings me peace.

Gentle Kindness

In my opinion we need more Mr. Rogers in our lives.

Fred Rogers was a HUGE part of my childhood. For him I will forever be grateful.

Watch and see how he uses kindness and respect to overcome adversity in this short 6 minute clip.

I remind myself the inspirational words of a certain Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. “Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that”

I choose to be kind today. I choose to share love today. I choose to respect today.

Gay Anthems!

Dance parties often start with an easy intro. You know, a tune that starts a crescendo that will serve as a foundation on which an incredible dance party experience builds.

I’ve posted this tune more than once before. By now Fearsome Beard regulars will realize it is one of my all time favorites. I post it today specifically in honor of all of those before me who dared to love the love they deeply understood, the true love they felt, even though society told them that dare not.

I dedicate this incredibly beautiful anthem those who inspire us today to be who we are and to stand not only for ourselves but those who will follow us. I dedicate it to them because they were never Being Boring, they were just finally being themselves.

Pet Shop Boys – Being Boring – 1990

To those courageous people who finally said “Oh, Hell No!” …Thank you!

Beyond Stonewall

All of us are part of history.

We each have our own story.

Our stories affect others, thus we affect a greater society.

Sometimes the smallest action creates massive change.

What’s your story?

I came out in high school. As a young freshman in 1979 after having been beaten by a group of bullies, this “queer faggot” was suspended from school. The rules were that no matter who or what caused a fight, if you were involved you were suspended. After a trip to the hospital and many facial stitches I faced a choice. Move to a private school or return and face my oppressors.

I chose to return and face my oppressors. After walking back into school with the swelling and bruises still apparent, I walked past them. This time when I was called faggot instead of denying it, ignoring it or hiding from it I took it as my own and replied “So what if I am?”

The bullying changed. I won’t say it stopped completely, but I will say it stopped having power over me.

I found that some started to accept me and over time the bullying practically disappeared. Yeah there was a comment now and then from an insecure asshole, but it was no longer aggressively oppressing. I had the power now because I took my power back by accepting and saying “I am gay, I am a faggot, queer or whatever.” High school turned out pretty good after all. Not perfect, but pretty damn good.

The change I see is this:

I changed my world by accepting who and what I was. I changed other’s worlds by allowing them to see, know and be friends with an out gay man. I also allowed others who were gay to follow me into their own truth.

Leaders

Many attribute the uprising of Stonewall to the drag queens and transgender present the night of the raid 50 years ago. Today much of our leadership is inspired by those same members of our diverse community.

Diversity and acceptance are character qualities I support, admire and strive toward. I applaud those who step up and out, to lead us through living their own truth. It is through their vulnerability that courage and strength are born.

Thank you to Peppermint, Lady Bunny and Sasha Velour for your inspiration and leadership.

Tipping Points

While the video’s title didn’t thrill me by starting with the words “Old Gays”, I was interested to see what insight the video held. My takeaway is when the one immediately responds that the significance of Stonewall is what happened afterwards and that is still unfolding.

As pride month continues in its 50th year after Stonewall let us continue the significance of this humble rebellion and it’s aftermath. Happy Pride.

Shapeshifting

Being the 50th anniversary of Stonewall I search daily for a new video that resonates. Some days the videos just pop into my YouTube suggestions, some days I run into them on another blog and still other days I take the time to search. Today I searched and I learned, I found growth…growth in my understanding.

I’ll never be able to fully understand the plight of those born into the wrong body, but I can try to empathize through understanding from pieces of my own personal experiences. Even though I was born into an exterior male body that matches my inner gay male persona, I can understand this new term I learned today, Shapeshifting. While I didn’t have to act as a different sex, I did have to lie and act as if I was attracted to the opposite sex in order to hide who I really was. I can still catch myself shapeshifting as it was something engrained deeply in me early in my life.

I cannot claim to understand the complete experience of transgender. I can love, accept, embrace and support to the best of my own empathy and understanding.

Vulnerability = Courage

Fearsome reflects

Growing up in the 1960s and 1970s I remember a time where what I felt and who I was attracted to was a secret. I learned early that I had a secret and a secret it would remain.

Therefore today when I run across a video such as this one in which a famous young gay man lives behind his secret I can empathize.

Don’t get me wrong, I wish Elton and others had been out and able to lead thus showing me that I was ok. However, I understand. I understand now that for them the safety of the curtain allowed them to live two lives. One life in front of the curtain out on stage and another in secret behind it. Society actually demanded the separation.

Stars of the past who tried to live their truth found their careers ruined and were ostracized, rejected into oblivion.

Today Elton is able to live as an out gay man. He is married and has two children. After all those years in hiding, today he can live as an example. Unfortunately Billy Haines never made it to see the day where his lifelong relationship would be validated much less that he could live and work as an out gay man.

What Billy Haines chose isn’t lost on me though. He chose to live his truth and to live as an out gay man, but it lost him his career. In his own way he blazed a trail by refusing to live a double life, or in other words he refused to live a lie.

Elton chose to live the lie until eventually his truth started to be too obvious, yet fortunately for him the times had changed to acceptance. But I don’t fault Elton. He had much to contribute, and contribute he did through his work and art. He was fortunate that thankfully times finally changed.

Societal “norms” keep people from fully expressing and living their truths.

Isn’t it time we appreciate differences and continue to challenge societal norms? Isn’t it time we actually question gender stereotypes? Isn’t it possible that the actual organ isn’t the actual sex? Isn’t it possible that sex, or sexuality, doesn’t even fucking matter?

Peppermint & Cazwell’s video Blend has appeared here before. It’s worth a re-post.

If we all do not understand, empathize, love, accept, support, forgive and STAND UP for each other then who will?

Let’s celebrate each other. Let’s celebrate life.

Loving oneself

Growing up gay ain’t easy. Growing up gay the first things I learned is that I was wrong.

I was wrong for being scared the ball would hit me. I was wrong for twirling the baton. I was wrong for wanting to take dance lessons. I was wrong for having a knack for color and redecorating my room over and over. I was wrong for being in the band and wanting to be the drum major …right up front. I was wrong for knowing the answers and being a good student. I was wrong for crushing on boys. I was wrong for just wanting to hang out with girls playing mystery date and gossiping. I was wrong for simply being me.

I learned to hate myself. I learned to hide myself. I learned to lie. I learned to loathe, loathe myself. I learned that I should try to be something I wasn’t.

Luckily I found a way to appreciate who and what I was. Luckily I learned it was ok to be gay. Luckily I got on my feet before I harmed myself in any permanent way.

However the scars remain.

It was those individuals before me that took a stand and they cleared a path. A path that I could follow to live better. I could learn to accept myself and one day love myself. I could learn and allow those scars to become strength.

However it isn’t easy.

It doesn’t have to be easy. I just must remember to keep moving forward and to love myself. To keep moving forward and broaden the path for others behind me.

Pride month isn’t about flagrant narcissistic pride. Pride month is about loving yourself and loving others. Loving yourself for being simply who you are and loving others for simply being who they are.

Oh…and I must remember that I am enough.

Be true to yourself, be who you are

It was late June 1969, a few pissed off queens had finally had enough.

This is a transcript of the above article below:

Homo Nest Raided, Queen Bees Are Stinging Mad

The New York Daily News, July 6, 1969
By JERRY LISKER

She sat there with her legs crossed, the lashes of her mascara-coated eyes beating like the wings of a hummingbird. She was angry. She was so upset she hadn’t bothered to shave. A day old stubble was beginning to push through the pancake makeup. She was a he. A queen of Christopher Street.

Last weekend the queens had turned commandos and stood bra strap to bra strap against an invasion of the helmeted Tactical Patrol Force. The elite police squad had shut down one of their private gay clubs, the Stonewall Inn at 57 Christopher St., in the heart of a three-block homosexual community in Greenwich Village. Queen Power reared its bleached blonde head in revolt. New York City experienced its first homosexual riot. “We may have lost the battle, sweets, but the war is far from over,” lisped an unofficial lady-in-waiting from the court of the Queens.

“We’ve had all we can take from the Gestapo,” the spokesman, or spokeswoman, continued. “We’re putting our foot down once and for all.” The foot wore a spiked heel. According to reports, the Stonewall Inn, a two-story structure with a sand painted brick and opaque glass facade, was a mecca for the homosexual element in the village who wanted nothing but a private little place where they could congregate, drink, dance and do whatever little girls do when they get together.

The thick glass shut out the outside world of the street. Inside, the Stonewall bathed in wild, bright psychedelic lights, while the patrons writhed to the sounds of a juke box on a square dance floor surrounded by booths and tables. The bar did a good business and the waiters, or waitresses, were always kept busy, as they snaked their way around the dancing customers to the booths and tables. For nearly two years, peace and tranquility reigned supreme for the Alice in Wonderland clientele.

The Raid Last Friday

Last Friday the privacy of the Stonewall was invaded by police from the First Division. It was a raid. They had a warrant. After two years, police said they had been informed that liquor was being served on the premises. Since the Stonewall was without a license, the place was being closed. It was the law.

All hell broke loose when the police entered the Stonewall. The girls instinctively reached for each other. Others stood frozen, locked in an embrace of fear.

Only a handful of police were on hand for the initial landing in the homosexual beachhead. They ushered the patrons out onto Christopher Street, just off Sheridan Square. A crowd had formed in front of the Stonewall and the customers were greeted with cheers of encouragement from the gallery.

The whole proceeding took on the aura of a homosexual Academy Awards Night. The Queens pranced out to the street blowing kisses and waving to the crowd. A beauty of a specimen named Stella wailed uncontrollably while being led to the sidewalk in front of the Stonewall by a cop. She later confessed that she didn’t protest the manhandling by the officer, it was just that her hair was in curlers and she was afraid her new beau might be in the crowd and spot her. She didn’t want him to see her this way, she wept.

Queen Power

The crowd began to get out of hand, eye witnesses said. Then, without warning, Queen Power exploded with all the fury of a gay atomic bomb. Queens, princesses and ladies-in-waiting began hurling anything they could get their polished, manicured fingernails on. Bobby pins, compacts, curlers, lipstick tubes and other femme fatale missiles were flying in the direction of the cops. The war was on. The lilies of the valley had become carnivorous jungle plants.

Urged on by cries of “C’mon girls, lets go get’em,” the defenders of Stonewall launched an attack. The cops called for assistance. To the rescue came the Tactical Patrol Force.

Flushed with the excitement of battle, a fellow called Gloria pranced around like Wonder Woman, while several Florence Nightingales administered first aid to the fallen warriors. There were some assorted scratches and bruises, but nothing serious was suffered by the honeys turned Madwoman of Chaillot.

Official reports listed four injured policemen with 13 arrests. The War of the Roses lasted about 2 hours from about midnight to 2 a.m. There was a return bout Wednesday night.

Two veterans recently recalled the battle and issued a warning to the cops. “If they close up all the gay joints in this area, there is going to be all out war.”

Bruce and Nan

Both said they were refugees from Indiana and had come to New York where they could live together happily ever after. They were in their early 20’s. They preferred to be called by their married names, Bruce and Nan.

“I don’t like your paper,” Nan lisped matter-of-factly. “It’s anti-fag and pro-cop.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t see what they did to the Stonewall. Did the pigs tell you that they smashed everything in sight? Did you ask them why they stole money out of the cash register and then smashed it with a sledge hammer? Did you ask them why it took them two years to discover that the Stonewall didn’t have a liquor license.”

Bruce nodded in agreement and reached over for Nan’s trembling hands.

“Calm down, doll,” he said. “Your face is getting all flushed.”

Nan wiped her face with a tissue.

“This would have to happen right before the wedding. The reception was going to be held at the Stonewall, too,” Nan said, tossing her ashen-tinted hair over her shoulder.

“What wedding?,” the bystander asked.

Nan frowned with a how-could-anybody-be-so-stupid look. “Eric and Jack’s wedding, of course. They’re finally tieing the knot. I thought they’d never get together.”

Meet Shirley

“We’ll have to find another place, that’s all there is to it,” Bruce sighed. “But every time we start a place, the cops break it up sooner or later.”

“They let us operate just as long as the payoff is regular,” Nan said bitterly. “I believe they closed up the Stonewall because there was some trouble with the payoff to the cops. I think that’s the real reason. It’s a shame. It was such a lovely place. We never bothered anybody. Why couldn’t they leave us alone?”

Shirley Evans, a neighbor with two children, agrees that the Stonewall was not a rowdy place and the persons who frequented the club were never troublesome. She lives at 45 Christopher St.

“Up until the night of the police raid there was never any trouble there,” she said. “The homosexuals minded their own business and never bothered a soul. There were never any fights or hollering, or anything like that. They just wanted to be left alone. I don’t know what they did inside, but that’s their business. I was never in there myself. It was just awful when the police came. It was like a swarm of hornets attacking a bunch of butterflies.”

A reporter visited the now closed Stonewall and it indeed looked like a cyclone had struck the premisses.

Police said there were over 200 people in the Stonewall when they entered with a warrant. The crowd outside was estimated at 500 to 1,000. According to police, the Stonewall had been under observation for some time. Being a private club, plain clothesmen were refused entrance to the inside when they periodically tried to check the place. “They had the tightest security in the Village,” a First Division officer said, “We could never get near the place without a warrant.”

Police Talk

The men of the First Division were unable to find any humor in the situation, despite the comical overtones of the raid.

“They were throwing more than lace hankies,” one inspector said. “I was almost decapitated by a slab of thick glass. It was thrown like a discus and just missed my throat by inches. The beer can didn’t miss, though, “it hit me right above the temple.”

Police also believe the club was operated by Mafia connected owners. The police did confiscate the Stonewall’s cash register as proceeds from an illegal operation. The receipts were counted and are on file at the division headquarters. The warrant was served and the establishment closed on the grounds it was an illegal membership club with no license, and no license to serve liquor.

The police are sure of one thing. They haven’t heard the last from the Girls of Christopher Street.

“We May have lost the battle, but the war is far from over”.

Fifty years later, thanks to some courageous individuals, the world is a better place. I salute them with deep gratitude. Today, because of their lead, many battles have been won …but the war is far from over.

Learn to Fly

Connection:

Life:

Connection enriches life. Life connects us. We are sharing a common experience right now. We learn, love, teach, understand, support, share, laugh, cry, hold, grow and feel.

We…

Feel.

I pause to feel. I pause to experience. I pause to connect. I pause to…

Wow, just beautifully fucking powerful wow.

May I learn to fly today, today right where I am.

…and may I have a sense of humor that I might not take myself too seriously…

Life, let’s live it …and together may we have a fabulous day.

I needed love today

Life.

Life comes at you.

Don’t get me wrong, life is good…good overall, but damn it can come at you.

I’ve had so many wonderful things happen to me in the past month, and I’ve had some confusing and bewildering things happen as well. I sure haven’t posted much and I have some great things to post about (such as an in person meeting with not one but three dear blogger friends…hint…it was in Philly). Overwhelm describes my loss of words, organization and time to actually sit and post. I need to post for me and my mental health so I start here.

I need  love today. I went in search of inspirational video to perhaps jar me into some sort of clarity. Below is the video that appeared when I clicked over to you tube. The message of love, of peace and of hope is exactly what I needed.

Beacons

Lighthouses serve both as a warning for hidden hazards laying just beneath a surface and as an indicator that a safe harbor awaits beyond.

Throughout life I have noticed beacons which helped me avoid the unseen, yet often due to various circumstances I overlooked a warning and found myself stranded on the rocks.

I am human, I am fallible.

However in each unfortunate circumstance when I have missed the warnings, or ignored them, I have found a safe harbor nearby.

In that safe harbor I can pause, reflect, heal, learn and grow.

Often it’s nothing specific that causes me to loose sight of the beacon ahead.

Life is. Life is busy. Life is distracting. Life is confusing. Life is exhilarating. Life is overwhelming. Life is fun. Life is troubling. Life is good. Life is hard. Life is sad. Life is hilarious. Life is love. Life is experience. Life is rewarding. Life is disappointing. Life is experiences. Life is unexpected. Life is unexplainable. Life is laughter. Life is imperfect. Life is. Life is. Life is.

My dear 17 year old Mitzi, our 5 pound chihuahua/poodle mix, is facing her next horizon. A horizon in which I can no longer watch her nor protect her. Each day with her has been a blessing from a power of love beyond any power that I can create. Each moment left is a treasure that I am grateful for. When her moment of transition arrives, I pray that I can set her free feeling the love that she, and her creator, blessed me with for all these years and continue to feel her love that will be with me always.

There are many hazards in the waters surrounding me at this time I my life. Some I am aware of, others I am/was blind to. I commit to learning to first forgive myself for my shortcomings and to open my eyes to the blessings, the beacons, the love, the gift of my life.

I commit to heal, to learn, to grow and to accept my imperfections.

Superhuman

So when there’s too much weight on a foundation, it will apparently crumble.

It’s a hard life lesson, as sometimes it is our very own foundation that fails.

Superhuman, I am not.

Simply put it has not been a good week. The implosion of Notre Dame’s spire and my decision for Fearsome Beard (the blog) to go dark for the week both turned out to be prophetic.

I’ll spare the details as I haven’t the energy or ability to sort it out here. At least not right now. It’s better I sort it out with a professional and just let my readers know that the beards will return. However it’s going to be a few days further into my recovery before I’m mentally and physically back together enough to make any genuine efforts.

In the mean time this Metallica tune seems apropos.

Metallica – Welcome Home ( Sanitarium )

A tune that, in my humble opinion, is the most underrated Metallica masterpiece to date.

The post I was going to do, but decided not to write

Ok I’ll admit it. I am sick at home with a bad cold and can’t work. Thus yesterday I found myself watching the Cohen testimony between naps and coughing. You, my dear reader, can attest to that fact due to the suddenly overwhelming flurry of posted videos. I obviously wasn’t amused but infuriated by the shenanigans. Necessary shenanigans they were.

So this morning I posted Hail Satan? The Documentary. I did so for a reason. The Satanic Temple seems to actually be practicing the principals of ‘Christianity’ better than most ‘Christians’ I see in the press theses days. The Satanic Temple also seems to value truth and our U.S. constitution better than the ‘Christians’ I typically see in the press of recent . (Before anyone gets their panties all tied up in a bunch please note that I didn’t say “all” but I said “in the press” when referring to ‘Christians’.)

Just an observation and a frank opinion of mine at the moment. Under the influence of cold meds? Yes. Delusional? No.

My disclaimer is this:

While I believe that there is a greater power than me which gives me the spark of life and also helps guide me (if I choose to let it), I am not a ‘Christian’ nor am I a Satanist. My Higher Power or God  or Allah or Christ or Satan or Flying Spaghetti Monster, is my business and not anyone elses’. It is also not appropriate for me to push my personal beliefs about any deity of my own preference upon you or anyone.

Now having said all of that I’ll get to the post I was going to do, but decided not to write.

While watching yesterday’s necessary shenanigans, I couldn’t help but to think of the blind followers of a certain Mr. Hitler of Germany back in the 1930’s & 1940’s. Those thoughts immediately took me to a favorite musical of mine. That musical? Cabaret of corse. After all I am a 50 something homosexual and the lead is played by none other than Hollywood legend Judy Garland’s fabulous daughter Liza Manelli. Besides what other musical so boldly depicts a homosexual couple carefully maneuvering their way through a political minefield of hate, bigotry, mind control, deceit and selfishness?

So this morning I was going to snarkily just drop the video of the blonde German boy singing Tomorrow Belongs To Me right here on this here internets blogy thingy. You know just as a political statement. Therefore I popped over onto YouTube to copy a URL to post here for your viewing pleasure, and also for your own mind expanding contemplation about the blind following a false prophet onto a path of darkness and corruption.

I had thought this through and was simply going to post with it a few short words about history. Something like: “History often repeats itself. However if we learn from history can we make new choices? New and better choices so it possibly doesn’t repeat with the same outcome?”

This Post was going to be good. A real thought provoker. You know, clarity through simplicity. Hell maybe it would even go viral and suddenly I would be hearalded as new voice. A voice to be heard. My 15 minutes were just about to happen. I mean I could feel it.

Then while previewing the video of that blonde German boy singing my eyes drifted to the comments.

Bubble burst.

From the comments it seems that this climactic scene from an anti-Nazi 1970s film, starring none other than Liza Minnelli and having a homosexual subplot, is becoming an anthem for today’s populist (read: selfish, self centered, hate filled) movement. The very song that is directly pointing to the fallacy of a blind following is being heralded by those very same blind individuals as a call to action.

The fucking irony.

Grow a Fucking Beard!

Look I’m not generally one to use what some consider profanity in a blog title but sometimes it’s appropriate.

Beards are great. Real Fucking Beards are even better!

I cannot fully explain what it’s like living with a Beard like Fearsome but I’ll try.

First off, Fearsome ain’t no regular trimmed and styled Beard. He’s a big Beard. A real Fucking Beard.

Fearsome Beard January 2019

Everyday I am am rewarded by the soft touch of Fearsome against my naked skin when I wake up. Yes during sleep I occasionally have to wake up to get him out from under me, out of an armpit or just to simply turn over, but it’s worth it.

Each morning I am blessed with the ritual of his care. The shampoo and conditioning feel wonderful between my fingers as his folicales untangle and lengthen. After blotting his frocks in a soft towel, I get to lovingly apply his leave in conditioner and massage in fragrant Beard oils. We finish with a thorough combing from roots to tips from side to side, front to back and under to outer. The rewards of such care are reaped every time a wind catches and lifts him over a shoulder, around behind my head and even when he lifts into my field of vision.

His movement is one of the greatest pleasures he brings me. I feel every turn of my head. We feel every breeze. He rests softly on my chest giving me a caressing touch even through the fabrics of my shirts. He is simply a divine gift.

He provides comedic relief at most all occasions and interactions. He’s quite social inviting most anyone into an easy conversation. He loves attention and making others smile. Why even at yoga as I am in downward dog he’s jokingly laying on the floor beneath me and can be found  mischievously obstructing my vision when in a headstand.

I cannot fully express my gratitude to the powers that gave me life and blessed me with the luxuriousness that is Fearsome Beard. I am grateful to myself for allowing him to blossom into the massive full Beard he has become. It has been more than 4 years since his last trim and he’s still growing longer day by day. There are no plans for any future trims either as that last one was a mistake from which we learned. Trimming does nothing but destroy the potential that any Beard has to become exceptional.

My advice to any man is to let it grow. Do not trim. Allow your Beard to become its potiential. Shampoo, condition and love your Beard.

Go ahead grow a Beard. Any Beard is worth growing and having. However if you’ve got a taste for adventure, grow a Fucking Beard.

ZZ Top Real Fucking Beards!

Clawing out

Sometimes, in order to get out of a hole that which I have found myself, it feels as if I am clawing my way out of the darkness even though I cannot see any light. I have found that as I claw my way it is important for me to be open to see any cracks, or even pin holes, of light and appreciate these as inspiration to keep clawing my way out. Keep clawing even if these pin holes aren’t the solution or direction in which I should go.

Inspiration lifts me. I must allow it to do so.

The pit of darkness in which I have found myself is of my own making. I make it through overwhelm due to the choices I make as to how I perceive the world around me. Choices as to how I react to others, to politics, to situations, to emotions, to comments, to work, to stress, to joy, to sadness, to love, to criticism, to direction, to you, to my thoughts, to weather, to …

Perception, like everything else in our revolving universe, cycles. This, too, shall pass.

I can choose to hasten this passing by allowing little things to lift me. This morning I choose to allow my locality of living’s politics to shine a pin hole of light inspiration into my life as I claw my way back into the light in which I prefer to live.

As I sit in the United lounge in the San Diego airport awaiting my delayed flight out I read our local paper. To my delight below the coverage of last nights national prime time spectacle of absurd news, I find that my local government has voted to take it upon themselves to assist the asylum seekers awaiting at the international border into our city.

Pin hole of light I see.

I allow it to uplift me.

I smile. I feel better.

I believe that good overpowers bad. I believe that love beats hate. I believe that kindness conquers intolerance. I believe that light eliminates darkness.

I believe that vulnerability allows us to be seen as we truly are, as the truly the imperfect flawed beings that we are. I believe that through exposing our own vulnerability we demonstrate the courage it takes to be, to be ourselves.

I am me and I’m not perfect. However I am worthy, I am courageous, I am beautiful,  I am and I can.

I can do anything. Right now I make a choice. I choose light.