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Some troubles of hypocracy

I read Andrew Sullivan's writing consistently.
Yes, the conservative Republican.
What sets him apart from the noise is thoughtfulness and clarity of thought.

He wrote about Senator Larry Craig (R-Idaho) and I want to post a bit of Sullivan's writing.
In this case, what he has to say elevates the discussion to a realm for higher consideration.

To quote:
"Craig was seeking in that toilet stall a connection, a shard of intimacy, that the world would not give him, or that he could not give himself. No one should have to live without that intimacy and dignity - no one. Living a life like that - a deeply lonely, compromised, painful interior existence - is a very sophisticated form of hell. No human can keep it up for ever. No human should have to keep it up for ever.

He is a hypocrite; and he made his choices. I am not going to dispute that. His voting record helped sustain the misery for others that he lived with himself. He is forever responsible for that.

But he is also a victim. And to see such a victim's pain exposed brutally in a public restroom pains me. He needs help. So do millions of others. It is just a tragedy that the party that Craig belongs to is committed to prolonging the pain and the denial of so many people - in order to appease the casual fears of the insecure, and to use those fears to sustain political power. In that sense, Craig has long been a hapless tool of those who have made him so miserable and so alone for so long. One day, if we keep working, that misery will recede for some. If it recedes for one person, it will be worth it."

It becomes a matter of the deepest integrity, in fact, it is essential for each of us to live our truths. Oh yes, it can be difficult, painful and even life threatening. (Remember Matthew Shepard?) The ethics of a moral life require us to live our higher truths. This then is the essence of the 'tao of simple'.

Wan Xia

One late Winter afternoon, we were riding home from the Ruins of the Summer Palace. The trees and sky blazed gold and cinnabar. I looked up from my handle bars to her face, and lost my breath. For the first time I could name her color. She held the next-to-the-last-instant of the colors of sunset, wan xia. If I could have ridden my bicycle without watching the road, I would have.

Her voice rang, playful, yet deeper than I knew then. "You think I am beautiful!"

"Yes! Oh god, yes!"

"Let's stop, before you fall over," she giggled.

The swarming street turned private, ours. The gravel crunched as we braked near a tree. In the last rays of the day, she took my hands and looked up at me full on, and I gently kissed the top of her sweet-smelling head.

Excerpted from unpublished manuscript: "Light Was The Wild Card"

High Sky

I have 3 pieces that are still in draft stage.
While I finish those up, I thought I would entertain you with some earlier writing.
Enjoy!


High Sky

She leans strong into me, and I hold my ground, firm against her. I stretch my ribs up, as I breathe in my pounding heart. We keep this balance, snugly adjusting to the pitch and roll of the rickety Russian-made bus.

The bus is crowded, as always. We are taking the #331 to the Temple of Heaven. I look down to her face and I see the same flush I feel on my own. There is a stirring of birds between my legs and I want very much to not be on the bus at this time.

We change buses at Ping An Li and I can't find her. I look around, anxious to catch a glimpse of her, but it is fruitless. So I stay where I am, knowing it is easier for her to find me. She appears with both hands holding out rich brown pastries. She tells me they are called "elephant ears". They are warm and gooey and very, very good.

The #11 bus arrives and we can be very close in public again. This time, in my beginning Chinese, I buy the tickets. The other passengers want conversation with me, and I have no interest in answering their questions. I want my place; tight-in-close with her. But I am polite and answer them in halting, scrambled Chinese. It doesn't take long before I have reached the limits of my skill, and I respectfully wished them a long life.

I struggle through the people for her side. Again, humming birds wings beat as we lean in on each other, striking again that balance that makes the sky seem high, hot and endless.

Excerpted from unpublished manuscript: "Light Was The Wild Card"