At Summer's End, Discovering the Thin Places

How much shall I be changed before I am changed?

--John Donne

This summer I turned 50. Barring an unforeseen future wedding (I've not identified the unsuspecting groom), I decided to commemorate the occasion with a huge (and expensive) party and rented a rocking loft in Pioneer Square, entrusted my childhood friend R.J. to create a James Bond themed invitation, invited 50 plus friends asking them to dress in Bond-style fashion, and hired a sexy deejay and smooth bartender. I created the party of my dreams, and had the time of my life dancing with old friends I'd met when I first moved to Seattle in the late 1980's, chums from my graduate school days in the 90's, buddies from swim team, neighbors, and new friends from work and play. I really did have the time of my life.

Hammock Heaven, Sept 2013

The rest of this summer found me spending lots of time hiking in the mountains, swimming  in the open water of Lake Washington, and savoring a good paperback or a nap in my new favorite place: my backyard hammock. I dreamed a lot this summer. One favorite book I've read over and over is The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I've even begun to imagine myself a wallflower (in the most unconventional sense of the word!) even though most people who know me would say, "You're an extrovert, Jack. How could you think otherwise?"

Fact is I often feel like I don't fit anywhere. I'm an athlete and love to move my body, whether it's in the water, or on the tennis court. I'm also an artist, and whether I'm writing on this blog, revising a chapter of my memoir, singing, preparing a delicious meal for friends, or combing my hair, I love creation and finding new ways of greeting life.

I'm spiritual too and don't think I would have survived this long had it not been for the faith my parents passed on to me. I'm lucky I found a way to make it my own and discovered people a long the way who loved me for me--a guy who left his family and everything he knew back in the Midwest and ventured to a new megalopolis that embraced the entrepreneurial--software, coffee, aeronautics, and the next new thingamajig--and alternate ways of living--gay rights and legalized marijuana--while casting a suspicious eye on of all things, organized religion.

The Joy of Tennis, Summer 2009

I sometimes tell friends I have a harder time confiding to new acquaintances I'm a practicing Catholic compared with telling them I'm a gay man!

Back to transformations and fitting in. During my extended periods in the backyard hammock reading Wallflower I've found my heart lost in the feelings of the main character Charlie as he writes in episodic fashion to an unidentified pen pal about his freshman year in high school, his new friends Patrick and Sam, and the intimate world of his nuclear family. The story reminded me how in high school it feels like possibilities are endless, everything is at stake, and how easy it is in adulthood to fall into routines that turn us into sleepwalkers, zombies of life.

And I resolved that I didn't want to live that way. I'm reading another book called A New Way to Be Human written by Robert V. Taylor, an anti-apartheid activist and former dean of St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral in Seattle, with a foreword by Desmond Tutu. Taylor talks about traveling to the "thin places" of our lives, often found in nature and on the edges of our own fear and resistance to being fully alive. There is a thin veil inherent in these places where if we pull it back we discover an invitation to see the world with a new perspective and get back in touch with ourselves, the Holy (or spiritual source), other people, and nature.

Over the summer I've wrestled with challenges in the workplace and in my love life, and sometimes in the hammock I was simply grateful to have a refuge to allow the weight of the world, and the weight of my heart, to dissipate. Through dialogue and patience I've found a way to reach out to a co-worker who criticized my work style and performance, which at times felt like a personal attack on my very existence. I've travelled a long road to get to a place of forgiveness, and I'm still working on mending that relationship.

Life, like Twister, can tie us up in knots
or present opportunities

Likewise in my personal life I've learned that choices, and timing, matter. Often I've selected sweethearts because they were there in front of me rather than really examining whether they engaged my heart and soul. Perhaps that's a tall order to ask for in this day and age. And with only ten percent of the population identifying as gay, I may be relegating myself to single-dom ad perpetuam.

Earlier this year I confided in a friend whom I dated that I want to feel something before I jump into a serious relationship. I learned later with the same friend that spending time together without any pressure or expectation allowed me to develop feelings for him in a way I hadn't before when we were officially "dating." And by that time sadly he was seeing someone else.

So at the end of the summer of my fiftieth year, I'm changing. I accept I'm imperfect, a fact I've avoided my whole life of trying to be "the best little boy." I recognize my fears are my greatest opportunities if I'm willing to lift the veil of those thin places, and be curious and explore them. Like my good friend Joe suggested during a lunch on Seattle's scenic, seagull-strewn waterfront. Throwing his arm around my shoulder, he egged me on: "Jack, lean in. Do me a favor and lean into your life."

With that bit of advice this self-proclaimed wallflower is leaning into the wind and once again diving into the mysterious stream of existence, eager to participate.

Namaste to each one of you who chooses to do the same.

Adieu to a Summer Well-Lived, Colman Pool, West Seattle