Starving the Wolf

An old Cherokee story was brought to my attention yesterday, one you may have heard. There are several minor variations, but the basic story goes like this:

An old Grandfather said to his grandson, who came to him with anger at a friend who had done him an injustice, "Let me tell you a story.

I too, at times, have felt a great hate for those that have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do.

But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It is like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die. I have struggled with these feelings many times." He continued, "It is as if there are two wolves inside me. One is good and does no harm. He is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. He lives in harmony with all around him, and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way.

But the other wolf, ah! He is full of anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.. The littlest thing will set him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing. Sometimes, it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit."

The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes and asked, "Which one wins, Grandfather?"

The Grandfather smiled and quietly said, "The one I feed."

Is there really any question which wolf to feed? Of course I would feed the good wolf, right? Of course. Always. But the other wolf, the anger, envy, sorrow, etc... he's wily. Those feelings will come without wishing them. They come because they are inside me--inside all of us. I feed the bad wolf when I wallow in them, when I let them hold too much of my energy and attention. It's easy to do so... too easy when I'm tired or lonely or hungry... He's quick and sharp, this bad wolf, and he can snatch a meal so quickly.

It is especially easy to feed the bad wolf when it comes to those most dear to us. Those we love most can offer the juiciest morsels because our feelings for them, our emotional investment is so great. We toss anger, envy, resentment, self-pitty and the like in his dish. If we aren't vigilant, he'll snatch scraps right from our hands.

But there's more. There's always more. Maybe, just maybe I can take those scraps which fall to the bad wolf and boost the good wolf's diet with them. I can steal them back from the bad fellow. Any tidbit the good wolf can salvage will strengthen him. Those things on which the bad wolf might feed can serve as food for the good wolf just as well. Better, in fact, knowing they come from a place of love and only exist because of love.

Can you understand jealousy as an expression of love? Can you harness anger and know it only feels so raw because of the bond you share with the person with whom you are angry? How about morphing self-pity into ache and longing--a good, pleasant ache?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

It takes vigilance. It takes effort to make feeding the good wolf a habit. It takes patience and time and commitment. It takes love, but the good wolf thrives on love.

Measuring a Year

Aimee Ziegler, my first wife and mother of my children, took her life one year ago today.

These are facts. They are not the only facts which measure her life. One could count the years she coached basketball and soccer. One could number the students which graduated local high schools who benefited from the WRAP program Aimee helped found. One could account the millions of dollars WRAP brought into our community and schools. One could even count the runs she scored in local kickball games.

Each time I'm reminded life must come to an end--each time a loved one dies or an anniversary of a death arrives on the calendar--think of more than endings. I think of now and how precious it is. Lives shouldn't be measured with numbers. Lives shouldn't be measured at all. Lives are for living and loving and staggering blind through a land which is at times strange and scary but all the while littered with love and miracles.

Hug somebody today. Love hard today. Remember with grace and move forward with courage.

Live. 

A Certain Ache

Let me tell you a story. Sometimes it’s the only thing I can do. 

Kim and I met three months after Aimee died. While we’ve had support from our closest allies from the very beginning, the naysayers gave us plenty of action. 

"Too soon."

"He can't be ready." 

"Don’t they know they have six kids?"

Some weren’t ready for me to move on. Aimee was a public figure in Lawrence. She was well known and well loved by those in the mental health and education communities. I felt restricted. This was my life, after all, but some folks felt like they owned a piece of it--folks who knew little or nothing of my home life and the struggles Aimee and I faced during her illness. Few people knew the grieving process I started long before she took her life.

But this story isn't about Aimee. It's about two people who love each other and are committed to one another being able to marry. I easily fell in love with Kim. It's easy to love her. We are kindred spirits, and we've known that kinship from the beginning. When you meet your kindred spirit, there's no going back. Those are Kim's words and I wish they were mine. 

No, there is no going back. Only forward. While naysayers may have been a little more vocal months ago, they've quieted their voices. If they still speak of reasons why Kim and I shouldn't be together, those conversations take place where even their whispers don't find my ears. Kim and I are marrying. We've been taking steps with our kids to prepare them for step-family life for months now. There will be growing pains, but we will have them together, in love and committed to one another.

The United States Supreme Court hears the second of two cases regarding marriage rights today. I look at my experience with Kim and wonder what I would do in a world where I couldn't marry my partner. What would I do in a world where I couldn't vow of my love and commitment to my kindred spirit in a very public way? What would we do without the legal protections granted us by the institution of marriage--how would it affect our kids and their future? 

Two of my closest friends are gay men. The boys call them "Uncles." They helped when Aimee struggled, they were there when she died, and they've been the biggest supporters as Kim and I came together. They have never once questioned my commitment to Kim or my plan to marry her. And I want them to have the same gift that I do.

All I can do is tell stories--and I'm happy to tell this one. Regardless of the decisions the Supreme Court hands down, I will continue to know in my heart that love is love, commitment is commitment, and two adults who wish to marry should receive constitutionally protected liberty to do so.

Know This

I proposed to Kim on Saturday.

I want the world to love her like I do. My best tools are these words--even when they fall short.

So how can I tell you about Kim? Where are my best words?

I hold three of my stories very close to my heart. They were autobiographical in a way (as most good fiction can be). Real events, locations, and people inspired them. I won no awards for these stories (one was nominated and made a very short list), although each has garnered a fair share of attention.

The Battered Suitcase published "Reciprocity"  way back in September 2008. Yes, it's my big fish story, and yes, there might be spoilers. It's a story of struggling to fit in, a story of understanding who you are and trying to find a way for that you to fit with the rest of the world. It's a story which could have been tragic, but ends with a flash of gold.

I remember the idea for "The World in Rubber, Soft and Malleable" (published first at A Fly in Amber in September 2009 and later, in a slightly revised version, in Triangulation: End of the Rainbow and my collection, The Saints are Dead) coming to me while I shuttled the family to and from church one Sunday. I think we forgot our donated Christmas gift that morning and I had to run back to the house to grab it.The extra doorways and disappearing townsfolk became one of my favorites. The protagonist makes a hard decision in the end--choosing what may appear a rockier path to remain true to himself. It might be a rockier path, but it leaves the protagonist, Andy, an entire town to cover with spray-painted murals. "The World in Rubber" was a finalist for the Million Writers Award and a story which moves me each time I read it.

And finally, one of my most personal tales, "Wanting It" from Shock Totem #3 (2011). This little tale took several revisions and gallons of blood/ink. I'm proud of the way it reads, the feelings it evokes, and the lasting impression in the final lines. It's a story about losing something you hold dear--and how that loss colors the rest of the world. Like "The World in Rubber," I wrote it in first person. It's autobiographical, even if fiction. Ellen Datlow was kind enough to include "Wanting It" as an honorable mention in The Best Horror of the Year  (even mentioning my name in the introduction... me=humbled).

These stories are my children born from some of the hardest years of my life. They each tell truths about love and loss, grief and hope. They're special to me. They're a part of me.

So who's Kim?

She's the magic goldfish from "Reciprocity"; she's every mural Andy paints in "The World in Rubber, Soft and Malleable"; she's the ghost who comes after the end of "Wanting It" and tells the narrator his dreams are true. She leans close and whispers in his ear.

Who's Kim? Read the stories when you have time and you'll understand.

Who's Kim? She's seen all my scars and called me beautiful.  Everyone on the planet should be so blessed.

And by the way--she said yes.

Chew on This

 Me at Fern Lake in 2007...

Me at Fern Lake in 2012... Funny how the world tilted a little, but I'm looking for the same thing in the sky.

Guess which one is the more hopeful me. Go on, guess.