here comes the sun

04May13
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tea party for one, earlier this week at destiny. peppermint sun tea, strawberry bars, flowering daffodils, and paw protectors made out of found ribbon from last year’s maypole.

Slept on the Land** last night, spontaneously, without socks. Woke up freezing under 3 mismatched afghans, decided to head home for a long hot bath. A sign on Highway 103 said MOVING SALE so I turned right, just to see. The sale was nowhere to be found, but Ella sang Misty on my mix tape and miles of country road curved warmly ahead. The Green Pony and I galloped through farms and sunny meadows and vivid green hues before turning back towards home.

I’ve been thinking about the sun some more, about what it would mean to allow its energy back into my heart. I’ve become such a creature of the moon these past few years, completely nocturnal when I could. At the MacDowell Colony I turned up Rhiannon and danced outside in snow boots, returning to a studio filled with images shot in city darkness. On our walks home from the Silver Future in Berlin, Mika and I would stop in to the all-night queer karaoke bar just to say hello, emerging on gray Tuesday mornings. And Brooklyn, dear Brooklyn – there is never a sweeter hour in Brooklyn than dawn, crawling into bed after a wild night smoking up its smoggy disco moon.

While reading the tarot on Easton Mountain last month, I drew the Moon in a cabin of producers, and thought aloud about what it meant to reflect the glow of others. Curating, photographing – in some ways these roles are reflective, hiding your energy behind the energy of others. The tarot interpretation of the Moon is usually about things that are hidden, obscured. Yet, as a moon person, I’ve always interpreted it positively : learning to step back, embrace your darkness, see what happens when the need for clarity is replaced by a more forgiving light.

And yet every artist needs a little bit of Sun on their face in order to keep growing. I thought about that as I meditated in full sun the other day, at Beltane on the Land. My back burned but something inside got charged up, like a battery. To me, the Sun is about fully embodying your energy, pulsing it out into the world, putting yourself out there for others to take part in. Letting your light shine, really, without concern for what anyone thinks, because you ARE the light and so shining is what you DO.

Transition has made me wary of the Sun. Dysphoria can be really intense. I haven’t felt ready to be seen, outside the safe spaces of community in darkness. There is so much I need to figure out first, every decision has felt so loaded. Drag has became so specific, the details paralyzing. I’ve become shy in public, more anxious in crowds.

And yet – here comes the Sun, like it or not. Becoming more visible in my work, all of a sudden. I do not like being on stage, I kind of hate publicity, I have always seen these things as necessary means for my greater goal of being me without compromise. I can keep feeling torn up about it, or just accept the wisdom of the Sun – walk into the light, embody the Sun, be myself with a bit less anxiety. Embrace the process I’m in and radiate it out.

It’s something to consider, at least.

On a community level, it feels like the Sun is shining brighter on people like me, who don’t really fit into accepted notions of gender. It feels like we are walking out of centuries of darkness with an articulateness and an anger that can’t be shut down the way it has in the past. The Plague and the Holocaust and the witch hunts are history – we’ve entered an era of Herstory, or Ourstory, or Theirstory, really. Individuals are still getting killed by ignorance and hate, which needs to be addressed, yet I have hope that mass movements of violence towards queer people will not rise up and decimate our collective existence this time around.

I wonder about how we collectively embody the Sun, in this climate. What positive light we can radiate in the face of hatred and misunderstanding. It’s another thing to consider, at least.

Time to get back to the Land!! Here is something to listen to:

** aka the radical faerie sanctuary in Vermont where I spend time. Tangent : have been thinking a LOT about Back-to-the-Land movements, wondering about ideology and parallels, wanting to learn more. Any suggestions for readings, please send my way!

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One Response to “here comes the sun”

  1. My favorite time on the Land is sunset. An astrologer once told me that my chart resonates well with sungazing, especially at sunset. I identify with the transitional times, the in between, the unending change of life. I think this is also what draws me to the Moon–she is always changing, only momentarily at any given point in the circle she turns, every moment in the birth/life/death saga given equal time and attention.


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