Pulse

One year ago this weekend, 49 innocent people were gunned down inside the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida.  Three days later, Melissa Etheridge released a single, "Pulse" in tribute to the victims, as a call for love and a condemnation of hate.  

I chose this music for my Ice Show Exhibition, and tomorrow night, my performance, like the song, will be dedicated to the memory of the lost.  

It will also be a reminder, to myself as much as to the audience, to be grateful for every beat of our heart, every breath that we are given.  Every human has a finite number of heartbeats, and none of us knows exactly what that number is.  Every beat, every pulse is a treasure, a privilege and a gift denied to many.  Wasting even one of them in hatred, intolerance or fear is to throw away that gift, carefully selected and hand wrapped for you by the universe, without bothering to open it.  

Two years ago, I had cancer, and spent six months in chemotherapy undergoing treatment for Hodgkins lymphoma. 

I returned to the ice in earnest this January, after healing from the surgical removal of my chemo port.  I worked hard on this, getting my thirty-seven year old body back in shape, rediscovering my center of balance, learning to manage my stamina with the diminished lung capacity that is an irreversible side effect of the bleomycin that helped to cure me.  

  My skate in the exhibition tomorrow night is my first public performance since remission.

It is a celebration of love and life, a reminder that every moment matters because we don’t know how many we have. It is a testimony of survival, condemnation of hate and a plea for love, understanding and acceptance. It is a prayer of gratitude for every beat of my heart, for every beat of everyone’s I love.

This is my costume.

Yeah, I put the sequins on myself.  I'm crafty like that.  And yes, yes that is a crop top and hot pants.  Yes, I am aware, it is not a traditional skating dress.  I'm aware there may be people who think it's not the best idea to skate an ice show because it exposes certain things. 

And they're right.  It does expose things.

 It exposes the scar where they pulled my gallbladder out through my stomach.  It exposes the empty navel piercing that partially closed up while the gallbladder wound closed.  It exposes the double brown line that the Vinblastine decided to draw permanently across my abdomen sometime between my 8th and 9th round of chemo.  And it exposes the tiny, baby, almost-sorta-abs that I worked hard both on and off the ice for six months for.

So, yeah, there's exposure.  But, you know what?  I’m tired. I’m tired of worrying about exposure, fretting over what others will say or do, tired of caring about other people's judgment.  

I got cancer and did not die. My own body tried to eat me. You think after that, I’m scared of some ignorant opinions? I have no fear left for opinions.

I didn’t mainline poison to waste a single second of the remainder of my life.  And I didn't do it so anyone else would have to either.  

I wish I could tell you that after surviving cancer, I'm no longer scared.  But that isn't true.  There is still fear in me.  

The world is terrifying right now, I'm not going to lie.  The shooting at Pulse last year is sadly not anywhere close to the only example of the true danger we do face.  But every second something like that is not happening, is a second we have a chance to prevent it.  A second we can make the choice to live in hope, to share our love, to reach out a hand of tolerance, of acceptance, to initiate a dialogue, to foster a friendship with someone different than ourselves, to focus on the fact that we are all human.  Race, religion, sexuality, ethnicity, nationality. Take a chance and get to know someone who think is different than you because of one of those things.  See how quickly you find common ground.  

Underneath our skin, we are all human.  We all have a pulse. 

I'm not going to tell anyone not to be afraid.  But don't let it paralyze you.  Don't let it trick you into wasting precious heartbeats hiding, or avoiding, or skipping adventures.  Don't let it silence you from speaking out for equality, for justice and for freedom.  Don't let it trick you into hating what you can't understand, because if you do, you'll miss out on so much life, so many beautiful heartbeats.  You'll whimper through your lifetime and never feel your pulse.  

Don't do that.  Open the gift, even if you are scared it's another ugly sweater from Aunt Victoria.  

To everyone who's scared (like me) and brave enough to keep trying anyway, I'm skating for you.  

To everyone who's survived a hate crime or loves someone who has, I'm skating for you.  To everyone who is LGBTQ+, everyone who isn’t sure, everyone who is an ally, I’m skating for you. To everyone who believes in love and is committed to extroverting that love to combat negativity and intolerance, I’m skating for you. To everyone who survived bullying, injustice, abuse, discrimination or neglect, because of the way they were born, I’m skating for you. 

To everyone who fought their way back from cancer, I'm skating for you. To everyone who’s still fighting, especially those who aren't going to win, I’m skating for you.  

If you believe in love and justice and equality, think of me tomorrow night. 

I’ll be where i belong, on the ice, skating for you.

PS: Speaking of exposure, I'm well aware that very few people read my blog.  But if you do happen upon this post, leave a comment & I'll donate $5 each toward the elimination of cancer and LGBTQ youth homelessness.  (Up to the first 10 comments, because I've got a budget and a mortgage.)  

No, God Does Not Get A Vote

Yesterday's historic marriage equity decision affected me with an energy I never felt before; a bizarre hybrid dichotomy of "Finally!" and "I never thought I'd live to see the day."

Of course, amid the celebrations, there are the dissenters.  These too, are allowed and I, for one, welcome them.  As a writer, the last thing I want to give up is my freedom of speech.  Some of those opposed are saying the ruling takes away their freedom of religion.  I don't see it that way.  I see this as adding freedom, fixing a long-overlooked wrong, giving our fellow Americans the same rights that straight (and straight passing) among us have long enjoyed.  To me, the ruling was in alignment with one of our core American beliefs, that all men are created equal.

My favorite dissension comment was the following question which I assume (as I have learned it is most often in my own best interests to do when reading and debating on whether to respond to online comments about any issue) was rhetorical:

"Doesn't God get a vote?"

No.  No he does not.  

Making sure he does not was kind of the whole point of moving across an ocean and starting a brand new country on our own.  In fact, our ancestors apparently felt so strongly on this point they thought nothing of practically wiping out an entire indigenous group of people in order to ensure this goal.  (More on our past failings as a nation in a future post - this one was intended, believe it or not, to be positive.)

Are we that vain as to assume that God even wants a vote?  

Are we that self-centered that we think the creator of space, time and the entire known and unknown universe cares or needs a vote in the pedantic governmental regulations of one fraction of a spec of dust floating in the vastness of infinite eternity?  Assuming for a single moment that He did, are you, a single citizen of that fractal dust spec, so important as to be endowed with the omnipotence required to know what that vote is?

Are you carrying God's proxy?  

What's that?  Oh, oh, you're not.  Neither am I.  None of us mere humans have the capacity to know the motivations, desires or intentions of the master of the universe, let alone His political affiliations.

Assuming He even has time to think of us at all, there's a whole lot of horrible things happening on this planet that I think He'd have a problem with long before he'd have a problem with marriage equity.

Don't get me wrong, I value my freedoms more than anything else.  I've been accused by relationship partners of valuing it even higher than love, so you can rest assured, the second I feel like my freedom of religion is being violated I will be right back here furiously blogging about it.  As far as my reaction should anyone ever threaten my freedom of expression, let me just say this:

They can have my laptop when they pry it from my cold, dead hands.

I'm grateful more than almost anything to live in a country where my opinions and thoughts can be openly and legally expressed.  Many of us in the world are not so lucky.  Raif Badawy comes to mind.