jakebe | Entries tagged with community

It's that time. Best of the year lists are popping up all over the pop-culture and entertainment blogs. Books, movies, TV shows, art installations, plays and musicals, even memes are being reviewed so we can try to make sense of the past twelve months. We spent how much time obsessed over that back in February? What really were the best things ever last year, now that we've had time to temper our breathless enthusiasm? What are we actually embarrassed for even liking at this point?

2015 was a big year for me, personally. I made the decision to speak up for causes that I'm passionate about in ways I never had before, and that opened up connections to folks online I'm so glad I got to make. I've shared my perspective as a gay black Buddhist who spends a lot of time pretending to be a jackalope online, my experience with my mental illness, my opinions and fears about telling stories. I've stepped into black geek, social justice and furry writer spaces, and I've found that those communities are homes I'd been searching for all my life. It's been a transformative time.

I've had to change, personally and professionally. At my day job changes in ownership and company structure forced a shift in my position, and I found myself learning technical skills that have always frightened the living shit out of me. Months later, that fear is still with me -- but I've learned how to make peace with it. I know how to use that discomfort to sharpen my focus, to be careful, to pay attention to what's necessary. The lessons I've learned from that experience I'm trying to apply to the rest of my life.

December is upon us, and we're all making one mad dash through the last holidays of the year. It feels like we're rushing through a time that we should be taking slow; the days are short, the nights are long and cold, well-built for silent contemplation. I've spent so much of my life letting my reflexes take over how I act on what I think and feel. If fear motivates my behavior, I've often let it with no questions asked. If anxiety demands comfort, I indulge in it. So many of my actions have roots in an automatic stimulus. I feel x, I do y. It didn't matter for a long time that these reflexes no longer serve a useful purpose, or worse, hold me back. I use them because I've always used them.

I've been making a persistent effort to live deliberately. I've become more consistent with my meditation, and taking the awareness cultivated on the bench throughout my day. I'm still new at this, though, so I fail quite often. When I'm overwhelmed force of habit reasserts itself and I fall back on those same ingrained behaviors. But I've gotten better at recognizing when I end up on those tracks, stopping for a minute to ask myself if I want to be there, and repositioning myself when I need to. As with everything, it's a work in progress. But progress is being made.

Everything we do throughout our lives is a choice that we've made. It can be difficult to take stock of our options and pick the best one, especially in the many moments that make up our days. Emotions demand action, we're often pressed for time, and our emotional reflexes have been well-honed. But it's helpful to double-check whether they're still useful after a certain point. We're often in situations where our first response -- our reflexive one -- doesn't fit, and it'd be better to go with something else. It's hard, slow work to do, but that awareness pays dividends sooner than I thought.

I've learned a lot more about myself this year. Learning about how my anxiety is on a fairly sensitive trigger helped me realize all the ways it influenced my decisions; I'm now working on consistently short-circuiting that system to make smarter choices. Learning that I have issues with ADHD has allowed me to recognize that there are certain things my brain will just never be good with. Far from simply letting myself off the hook with that, it encourages me to work harder (and more efficiently) by knowing I need to rely on something external instead of my own brain. Timers, to-do list and calendars have become essential; follow-through is not something I'm great with, so finding ways to make sure I finish what I start needs to be baked into every process. In this situation, knowing my limitations hasn't made me feel lesser; it's allowed me to work within and beyond them to do a lot more than I thought I could.

This year has been great. I've made a lot of progress, and I feel I see myself and the world around me a bit more clearly than before. But there's still work to do. I can be better still about how I manage my time. I could be more efficient with my projects, work through them more quickly by making sure I'm on task when I've set myself to be. Learning to be comfortable with my fear and anxiety is never something that will end. It's a project I'll be working on all of my life. But the work becomes more familiar with time and practice. Maybe it won't be easier, but I'll get better at it.

And working on the connections that I continue to make will be a big focus next year. Now that I've finally found and understand community, working hard to be a productive part of them is something I really want to do. I want to support my neighbors, both in the real world and online. What are the best ways of doing that? How can I help through my perspective and experience? What can I do to help us be better?

I'm so grateful for this year, even though it's been difficult at times. I'm thankful because it's brought me closer to so many of you. I'm really looking forward to the work of continuing what I've started here next year. I'm really looking forward to helping bring us all closer together.

Over the long weekend I watched two very different movies that touched on the same theme. One of them was a religious drama written and directed by Robert Duvall, a true passion project if ever I saw one. It was called The Apostle. The other was very much a product of its time -- a light and fluffy wish-fulfillment movie that was big about fifteen years ago. I'm talking about that modern classic, Practical Magic. Though they're both on just about polar opposites of subject matter, religious inspiration and pop culture niche, they both twinged something that resides deep within me. I wasn't expecting that, so I had to think it through.

In The Apostle, Robert Duvall plays a white Southern preacher known as Sonny to his friends. Right from the beginning you see that he's a true believer; he wades into the chaos of a car accident, and the first thing he does when he finds one of the victims is minister to him. It's a fascinating scene that does a wonderful job of establishing how deeply Sonny's faith motivates him; it really is nothing less than the foundation of his character. Sonny's entire life is geared towards his faith. Everything that happens is attributed to God (or Satan); everything that he enjoys can be connected to the Church. Soon you find out that Sonny isn't quite what he appears to be, and the movie becomes interesting in a different way. But for that first act where we're getting to meet him for the first time, I was totally arrested.

My entire family belonged to a black Southern church, except for us (we were Jehovah's Witnesses). When someone died in my family, we didn't have a funeral -- we had a "homegoing celebration". For someone who hasn't been to a traditional Southern church service and has no idea what to expect, the liveliness can be disconcerting. Speaking as an outsider, it's fascinating watching a mass hysteria wash over the crowd. The preacher is like a conductor, managing the ebb and flow of the energy in the room, and when he decides to turn it up to 11 it's really something to see.

The movie filled me with an unexpected homesickness. There's a reason that I got out of my home environment and I'll never forget what it was, but there's something strangely comforting about being around people who can be true believers. They live their lives with a fervor that's infectious. They've rooted themselves to an ideal that gives them strength. While it's true that many of them use that strength to do terrible things, it doesn't always turn out that way. There are many people I remember fondly from my Jehovah's Witness days, that I think are wonderful people, that have used their faith to really push themselves to become better.

When I left the faith of my childhood I was adrift for a while, and looking for something different. I had actually found Wicca well before I left home, and dabbled in practicing it. But college is where I really embraced it -- wearing the pentacle, painting my fingernails black (that had nothing to do with Wicca, but it helped with the image), leading my school's Pagan Student Union for a time. There was actually a small but thriving Wiccan community around my college that I got into, and found myself embedded with another group of true believers.

One of the things that drew me to Wicca was the idea that spirit flows through all things, shapeless and formless, and it's all around you always. Your belief and will can help to shape that spirit, and the more people who direct their will towards a symbol or idea, the more powerful it becomes. The God and Goddess fulfill the same functions in the universe, and you can imagine them any way you wanted to, but for most people it would be the Earth Mother and the Horned God.

If I wanted to, I could surround myself with the symbolism of nature and work my will towards becoming attuned to it. Wicca really is a way to reposition yourself so that you have a more symbiotic relationship with the natural world, and that part is appealing as well. It's surprisingly open; according to Wicca, casting a spell and praying to Jesus is the same thing, simply working your will towards a desired effect. As Sonny said in The Apostle: "You do it your way and I do it mine, but we get it done, don't we?"

Watching Practical Magic took me right back to my college days, wanting to believe that I could will something into existence, that the first step to making change in the world was simply wanting it, then acting on that desire. And it reminded me that my history is filled with communities of believers, and that's something that I don't have now.

Am I poorer for it, not actively believing in something beyond what I can see? Over time I've developed my spirituality into something of an agnostic animism. I still carry the vague belief that a spirit inhabits everything, that it's formless and takes on the properties of the will around it. But at the same time I realize that my belief could be just bullshit, an amusing fantasy that helps me make sense of a world that is senseless. If you peel back my agnosticism, you'll find a powerful, existential drive. Reality is actually meaningless, and it's my job as a sapient being to infuse it with any meaning I can.

I have the desire to believe, but none of the tools to do so. The reason I eventually left Wicca is that I knew I couldn't invest in the community; I'd never be able to believe as hard as everyone else did in what they were doing. I thought it would be a nice way to pass the time, but the moment it got difficult or inconvenient, I'd cast aside the ideal.

So what DO I believe in? If I don't actually hold stock in the fictions I create to make sense of the world, what is there?

I honestly don't know. I have a suspicion, though, that this life is all there is and afterwards there's nothing else. I could become some of that formless spirit-stuff after my body ceases to function, or my spirit could actually move on to some sort of after-life. Since there's no way for me to know, there's no way I can count on it being true. I can't let the hope of something like that influence my behavior.

Since this life is all there is, I believe that we should make it good. I believe that humans are social creatures, and that we can't really get along without forming clans, communities, groups of people we depend on. I believe that part of what it means to be a good person is improving the community around you, whatever it is. If you work in McDonald's, your coworkers and customers are part of a community. Make it better. If you're part of a bowling league on Tuesday nights, your friends and opponents are part of a community. Make it better. If you have a neighborhood grocery store that you go to once a week, the people there are part of your community. Make it better.

I believe that we only have what we have, and each other. Why shouldn't we make our communities as great as possible? My life's work is making my world a better place, in big ways and small. Hopefully, I can work towards dedicating more and more of my actions to it. I want to become as devoted to my ideal as Sonny was to his.

I'd like to believe that there's a heaven that we go to after we die, or that there really is magic in the world, waiting for us to discover and shape it. But I can't, any more than I can believe I'm actually a rabbit trapped in a man's body typing this out to you. All I can believe in is what's in front of me, and you, reading this, right now. Let's make a community of it.

So...what can we do to make it better?

The break that I had threatened earlier was a little longer than anticipated -- sorry about that. The past couple of weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind for a number of reasons, and I'm just now getting to catch up with everything. There'll be more about that in future blogs, I promise, but for now let's talk about the reason I was away for so long -- Further Confusion 2013! (Warning: A lot of these links will lead to places that acknowledge sex and alternate sexualities.)

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, Further Confusion is a fantasy convention centered around anthropomorphics ("furries") and its various interests. You can find people there who are into cartoons, sci-fi/fantasy novels, spiritual studies (totemism, etc), music, zoology and all kinds of things. Furry is an umbrella group that can accept a multitude of roads into its borders, and that's what makes it so cool.

I was there along with my husband Ryan; our primary interest/niche in the fandom is writing, and it's a great time to be a furry writer. The community is growing and maturing in really neat ways, and we're finding niches being filled in our little 'ecosystem'. There's something for everyone, and a lot of our writers are trying to find ways to make a living doing what they love by non-traditional means.

There were a number of authors there to read from their work. Mary Lowd had a whole panel to herself, to read from her work. Kyell Gold held a panel to read from his latest novel, Divisions. Sofawolf Press -- one of the biggest publishers of furry literature -- offered a sampling of readings from three works that will be coming out in the future. One of them was from Ryan, who'll be publishing a novel trilogy about a tribe of men and their relationship with the gods around them in mythic Africa. It's a very impressive work, and I'm immensely proud of him for it.

I attended another reading from FurPlanet Press, a great publisher that's looking forward to an impressive year. Watts Martin read from his novella, Indigo Rain, and another friend Kevin Frane read from his new novel Summerhill. Graveyard Greg read from his alt-universe novella Carpe Mortis as well. The stories I heard this weekend run the gamut from gay slice-of-life to epic fantasy to post-modern sci-fi weirdness to action thriller to traditional fable. And they're all good!

A bunch of local folks put together a jazz band that held (I think) their first concert on Friday afternoon. I thought I would zip in for a little bit, but ended up staying for the whole thing. I was pleasantly surprised by how well they played together, how much energy and passion they had. It was easily one of the highlights of the convention -- I really hope the Super Pack Jazz Ensemble puts in a return appearance next year.

Conventions like this one are really inspiring. I get to see a host of the friends I've made over the years, catch up on what they've been doing, and meet new friends who have a wealth of different experiences. Almost everyone you meet honors their creativity in some way or another -- through drawing, writing, performing, crafting, DJing, coding, collaborating. There are leather-workers, button-makers, hypnotists, costume designers, and artists of every stripe. It's hard to come away from the convention without being proud of this wonderful fandom and all the great people who make it up. And it makes you want to rise to the challenge of contributing to it in a meaningful, positive way.

So that's where I am, and where I've been. While running around being inspired and meeting an entire crush of people, though, I've fallen behind on my own creative projects -- quite seriously so. That's all right. It's a learning experience, and I think I'm in very good shape to press ahead with my writing.

Kotaku did a very nice piece on Further Confusion, by the way, if you're interested in knowing more about it. A lot of the media coverage about furries is less than kind, but this one is fairly even-handed, if a bit bemused about our existence. Of course, if you have any questions, feel free to ask. I'll be as open and honest as possible.

Current Mood: enthralled
Current Music: The Writer's Almanac - Paul Simon

toob proposed to me in the middle of Further Confusion 2007. We were with a couple of friends in their hotel room, and for various reasons I was in a contemplative mood. Sometimes I like to look back at past tragedies to see what bearing they have on the present, and this time I was finding a lot of connection. There were all of these half-forgotten memories that contained the seeds of my abandonment issues, or fear of saying stupid things, or opening up to my closest friends. Naturally, I had to tell people about all of it. This is a good reason to never invite me to your hotel room during a convention. You'd probably be thinking "Hey, let's pretend we're in that episode of CSI." I'd be like, "Great, we could re-enact our very own episode of Dawson's Creek."

Ryan, bless him, did the best possible thing after I had recited this litany of traumas. "I was going to wait to tell you this," he said, "but it sounds like you need this right now." And then he told me that he was going to ask me to marry him. It was exactly the thing I needed to lay all of that to rest. It never occurred to me that the reason I brought up these things time and time again was the hope that someone would know the right thing to say to help me move past it. I don't think Ryan knew, either, but he did, so I did. I didn't realize precisely why at the time, and I feel like I'm just able to get a grasp on it now.

Later that year, we went on a hike in Alum Rock State Park. Overlooking these endless green hills, with birds and mist and tiny little cars, we sat down on a bench and he produced two rings. Of course, I said yes. I don't remember much about the trip down, except that we saw flowers with the most amazing color and I couldn't stop smiling.

Our ceremony was nothing fancy. We rented the University's modest chapel, went through the vows in ten minutes and had a potluck reception afterwards. I had spent the last three weeks fretting about whether or not we'd have enough food and if people would be OK with cooking and how the layout would happen and everything, but it turns out I really didn't need to. The folks at Caer Carnivore and Zack took care of everything. Everyone else gave us more food than we could have imagined, and I think everyone was stuffed by the time they left. I can't thank everyone enough.

Now that there's a little distance from the experience itself, I've had some time to reflect on the experience, the whole concept of marriage, that sort of thing. I still have trouble organizing my thoughts about everything, but geez, I have to say something.

I've been in California for two years now, and during almost all of that time I worried about fitting in. There are so many incredible people here -- writers, artists, thinkers -- that it made me feel dull and slow. What on Earth could I offer these people? They're incredibly smart, funny, interesting people with full social calendars down to a man. Who was I to try and shoehorn myself into their lives? Everyone's been very friendly and warm, but I never feel like I have anything to contribute. Because of this, it's been difficult to see myself as a part of the community of friends here.

In displaying my love and commitment to Ryan in such a public and binding way, though, I found that love shouted back at me from places I had never realized it could be. And this, I realized, is another function of the marriage ceremony. It's not just an expression of a sacred vow between yourself and another (though that's the primary aim), it's also a reaffirmation of your place in your community, and a strengthen of the bonds you hold with everyone close to you. This is perhaps the first time in my life where I actually got it that people cared about me. I've had a lifetime of momentum with this whole outsider thing, but the wedding was an epiphany. I'm an accepted member of a community. Not only that, but I'm committed for life to someone that I've loved for seven years now.

There's a tremendous sense of confidence that comes from knowing who you are, and who has your back. It makes you much more patient, optimistic, adventurous. No matter what happens to me or Ryan, we both know the other is there for him. It's tremendous, such an impossibly great feeling. I'm trying hard not to brag, but really, it's just awesome. I had no idea you could be this happy all the time.

I have a husband(!), a ton of great friends all around the country (and all around the world!), and things just keep getting better. I'm going back to school, my brain is finally waking up from its long vacation, and I'm excited about things I don't know (instead of being afraid of them). Most of this because I got to say "I do." to the man I love. Amazing. :)

Thank you all for being with me through this incredible experience. Even if you couldn't make it, your e-mails and phone calls and IMs and everything, all of them, were very much appreciated. I'm so very lucky to know you guys!

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jakebe

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The Writing Desk of Jakebe Rabbit

A collection of words and fluff

Entries tagged with community

(Personal) Choices

What I Believe

Further Confusion 2013

How's Married Life?