Lost and Found

Lost and Found

The young man was lost, not yet found

He headed north to higher ground

There he met a wise young monk

Half his age and double the spunk

What brings you here he nods and smiles

Why so far these thousands of miles

I'm not quite sure spoke the man with a grin

I get a bit lost from time and again

My path is not clear though my journey is bright

But I get off track and lose all my sight

Within the storm clouds is when we feel fear

Though its through and through when we begin to see more clear

Sit right here for a while and you will see

That all you have searched for is right here with me

The breath you take in and the breath you let out

Will guide you to truth, I have no doubt

Time had gone by and much to his delight 

He felt stronger and calmer, the young monk was right

Though when he looked up there was no boy in sight

Like a bird or a plane, he must have taken flight

A moment passed before he noticed his place

All so familiar, the table, the chair, even the vase

He'd been home all this time, not below or above

He's where he belonged, where he felt all the love

Right here, right now listening to every sound

Is where he is now, that's where he is found

Someone Like You

Life is a journey, an experimental journey, and I want an adventure buddy, someone who tears down their walls to explore the boundaries within. Someone who leads with curiosity and who will laugh at my weird humor and who equally makes me laugh at theirs. Someone who wants to feel all of the emotions, even when they're scary just to come out better on the other side. Someone who is playful, who can take my sarcasm and who is able to dish it right back. Someone who wants to sleep over sometimes and who wants me to sleep over sometimes and someone who needs their space, just as much as I do sometimes. Someone who is kind to strangers, who sees meeting new people as an opportunity for connection and to learn something new about their self. Someone who challenges me to be the best version of myself and vice versa. Someone who loves me for all that I am. Someone who is present and who believes that love can last a lifetime or for just a moment. Someone who plays well with others and communicates effectively. Someone who is patient and understands that humans make mistakes. Someone who wants to grow with me, to discover what love is and to explore where it can go. Someone like you. 

His eyes

Your kind eyes,

As blue as the sky,

As soft as a puppy,

As kind as an elder,

As curious as a monkey,

As sensual as a lover,

As sexy as a fucker.

Then you smile,

And I melt,

And I get excited,

And I flutter in my chest,

And I stutter my words,

And I don't speak,

And then I do.

Simply put, I adore you.

[art: The Earth Wall, which can be found in the Presidio in San Francisco, created by Andy Goldsworthy.]

Proud to be me

It was December 2001 in Omaha, Nebraska. The Twin Towers had just fallen a couple months back, and the nation was still on edge. The things discussed at home were how gas prices sky-rocketed, terrorists are taking over the nation, anyone who isn’t white is a bad guy and Cody, when are you moving out of the apartment? That last part was more of a discussion with myself, I couldn’t live with my family anymore. I was 18 years old and one semester in college. What wasn’t discussed was how I was doing in school. Shitty. I was working full-time trying to earn enough money so I could move out of my Mother’s apartment. I was working full-time so I could pay for school on my own. I didn’t have financial support for school, and my emotional support was lacking. But I get it, my brothers had their things going on, my mom was single and making ends meet, I needed to focus on Cody. I would have aggressive physical fights with my little brother while my older brother would root me on, “kick his ass, Cody, don’t be a pussy”. Well, maybe I had a little support there. That wasn’t the first time a neighbor knocked on the door wondering where my Mother was and shall they call the cops? I don’t blame him, I really tore up my little brother, mostly just scratches on his back, but whatever. My brothers wore my clothes obsessively, and it pissed me off so much! I would hide them in my Mom’s closet, like other things about myself, just so they wouldn’t find them. I wouldn’t mind if they wore them, if only they would take care of them and not stain them or stretch them out. I was much tinier than both of them, so it never made sense to me why they would want to wear my smalls? I know now that it was because I had a sense of fashion. Button downs and polo shirts from American Eagle and jeans from Hollister, how could they not want to steal my clothes? In February 2002, I came out to a co-worker, and she embraced me with her lesbian arms. She took me out and introduced me to a whole new world that intrigued me. A place where I can learn about myself and let it all out! Everything I had building up inside of myself finally had a place to shine in the world. The Max and Club Joy were the places to be in Omaha. I stole my older brother’s military ID that he obviously didn’t use anymore. I tied a bandana on my head and headed to the bar with Jen, Maria and Karla. My heart was racing before I entered The Max for the first time. The girls told me to have a beer wrapped in a brown paper bag with me the first time I go in. They will be so distracted that I’m already drinking that they won’t even second-guess my expired military ID that obviously doesn’t look like me. The ID expired in 2000, my brother is 3 years older than me, although I looked 15, though I was 18 years old, and his weight on the ID was 175 lbs and I was about 130lbs. “You can’t bring that in!” yelled the bouncer, then he grabbed the beer, browsed my ID, stamped me and pushed me through. Hello gay bar! My older brother had no idea, but he helped me get into the gay bars for the next 2 ½ years without a single hiccup. It wasn’t until Pride in Kansa City, a couple years later, that I tried to get into a bar behind another guy with a fake military ID that I got caught. So instead of giving up on that night, my friends did me up in drag and not more than 30 minutes later, I entered the Dixie Belle with a blonde wig, red dress and combat boots. I stuffed my bra with my pants, t-shirt and baby wipes. After I walked the bar, I went to the bathroom and chucked the dress in the trash, baby-wiped my makeup and checked the wig at coat check. That’s how we did it. Just for a few hours to be surrounded by sweaty gay boys and witty drag queens, it was well worth it. I felt proud. I was proud to have friends that looked out for me and that I looked up to, and proud of my courage. I will never forget those boys. The KC crew really brought me out of my shell, and I am forever grateful. Happy Pride.

Grow Up

Words from a time capsule. 

The following was written in one of my many journals I had when I first came out of the closet and so on throughout my life. I was sitting in a café near The Orpheum Theatre in Omaha, NE. I was with my friend, Jen, a lesbian who invited me to an open mic night at Stage Right, which has since closed down. I was motivated to write something and read it right then and there. So I did. This is what I came up with...

Thursday, February 20, 2003

"There are a lot of depressed people out there and I used to be one of them. Once I thought I'd never be accepted. I grew up. I'd walk down the street over-hearing others talking about me and wonder why? Before, I used to take the long route home so my Mother never saw my tears. Now, I take the short cuts so she could see my smiles. Once I thought all that mattered was fitting in. I grew up. What keeps me going today is knowing that I could possibly make a difference. Last week my brother hugged me so tight and said "I love you no matter what and I'm proud of you". He cried. I waited until I got home, then it was my turn to cry. I cried tears of happiness. Like I said, I grew up, I just wish everyone else would."

Me

December 2002

NYC - My Coming Out Vacation

Set of Sesame Street

I'm not scared to live.

We hiked along Highway 1 (PCH) in Gualala, CA. We blew bubbles. We crossed a bridge over a river. We waived a stick with ribbon. We laughed. We got off the road and walked through what felt like an African safari terrain, with brown grass 3-4 feet tall. There were hawks circling the sky, eyeing prey or dead animals. We walked to the side of the hill and looked out to see a beautiful live water painting. The trees breathing over the river past the bridge we just crossed, the lagoon waters rippling below us, and the ocean waves crashing in the distance while the long grass breathed against our legs. We continued down the trail and within one quick turn, we found ourselves on a beach; what felt like a deserted island. There were big tree trunks and branches to play with in the sand. We built seesaws, balance beams and crucifixes. There was a rock wall that seemed to be from Jupiter or Mars. I felt like I was in the movie “The Lord of the Flies” lands on “The Planet of the Apes” while living like the characters from “The Blue Lagoon”.

I stood there and watched the waves crashing onto the beach about 5-8 feet tall. I knew I was in no state to body surf these treacherous waves, besides it was only 64º outside, the Pacific Ocean is freezing. When the waves crash into the sand, the water forms a “V” and starts rushing towards my feet, creating an effect like the Ocean is reaching out to me to pull me into the rowdy waves. It fails. I don’t run away. I stand there and let the water crash into my legs as it pulls the sand from under my feet. The sand comforts the grip of my feet. I feel as though I am part of the Earth. My roots are grounded in the sand, and nothing can knock me off my feet. I am fearless at this point. This thick 2-foot long stick draws out the word “FEARS” in the sand, and I toss the stick into the mouth of the wave. The wave pushes the fear stick halfway between the ocean and myself and then pulls it back into the water. I wait to see if it will come back to me, and I feel this sense of relief, as I don’t gain sight of the stick anymore. I faced my metaphor for Fear. Small steps to understanding what scares me and how I can face those things. We can all stand on the beach and watch the waves. We can let the waves crash into us over and over. We can run away from the waves or we can embrace the waves. Surfing is more fun when there are waves. I am choosing to embrace those waves.

video/photo credit: instagram @joshinaround514 & @aclaytonsaunders

Express Yourself

The “Express Yourself” video by Madonna was inspired by the classic 1927 film, “Metropolis”. I just learned this this morning, as I was searching a quote from the movie. I watched the re-release (1984) of the film last night, composed by Giorgio Modorer, which had 80’s inspired music, including famous 80’s pop and rock stars. In the film, there was a line that Maria said that struck a chord in me. In the film, Maria’s likeness is cloned and transformed into a robot. It’s beautiful. I recommend you watch the 80’s re-release on Netflix tonight. And as beautiful it is without, I also suggest smoking some pot or eating some shrooms. The film is obviously shot with impeccable choreography, and I felt like I was watching the opening performance on “So You Think You Can Dance” throughout the entire film.

“Without the heart, there would be no understanding between the hand and the mind.” – Maria (Metropolis)

The right to marry vs. the duty to marry. I’m listening to a radio talk show and they are discussing our gay community and our marriages, and if we feel it is our right to do so or our duty. And taking that into consideration, are we getting married sooner than we would, had it been legal all along? Personally, I never wanted to get married until I was in my 30’s anyway, although some people have always wanted to be married in their 20’s. Just because it was out of sight for us growing up gay, it certainly wasn’t out of mind, so therefore we never lost sight. It is not my duty to get married, but I now have the right to get married. Do I consider myself less of a person because I am gay? No. Have I ever? No, I can't say that I felt less of a person, though some may have tried to make me feel that way. Has my community as a whole felt this way? Yes. But I’d like to think that we don't carry that around, yet still be aware of the civil war against us. Being the victim does not motivate compassion and change, only sympathy and misery. Connecting with others is what sparks compassion. Finding a common ground helps discover the compassion we are capable of having. And as crazy as it is, our differences could be the common ground to help understand others. Sympathy helps someone feel not alone. If someone is feeling sad for the situation and me, then it’s okay for me to feel sad or sorry, and that feels good. Though I would prefer for sympathy to just be a guest star in my life, one that is only around for story sake, but quickly is out shined by empathy to be out shined by confidence. Empathy helps connect me to the root of the problem and begins the healing process and the problem solving. If we all live with sympathy for each other, then none of us will ever step up and fix our life. We have to empathize to move forward with our differences. If I hear another “I’m so sorry”, I would like it to be followed with a discussion to actually help you understand why I may be sad, and then we can get to the root to rebuild me. And of course, vice versa. I won’t feel sorry for you just to match your feelings, and be in misery with you. I will tell you that I’m sorry you are struggling, but what is it that is making it a struggle? I want to change your perspective from struggle to a challenge to a journey of adventure. I will begin to understand you once you begin to understand yourself.

Intimidation is also constantly misunderstood. To intimidate someone is to intentionally make someone afraid or fearful or timid. Often we use the phrase “He intimidates me” rather than “I am intimidated by him”. The difference is simply that in the first phrase, we are blaming this guy for intimidating us, when in reality we have no idea what his intentions are. We should be using the second phrase, because that is when we empower ourselves. If I use the second phrase, then I recognize that I am the one who is intimidated, and I can change that. I now have control. Even if his intentions are to intimidate me, I won’t allow it. Now, I must re-iterate empathy and maintain compassion here, and not turn into one who intimidates. The last thing I want is to have an ongoing intimidating, silent, back and forth battle. Then we end up never speaking to each other, or perhaps we end up fucking, and never speak to each other again. I simply won’t be intimidated, nor will I be intimidated into bed, I’d rather encourage that notion.

The "Express Yourself" video was directed by David Fincher.