Decolonization of Trans Identity

I choose to decolonize my identity. I’m one of Inanna’s gala (𒍑𒆪). I do not wish to call myself trans any longer. Trans implies transition. It implies changing from one thing to another. I’ve always been gala. Being lied to and denied my true identity doesn’t make that deception true. As such, there’s nothing to transition from. It’s been a process of making this me into the real me. Not transition; correction. Reconstruction into something beautiful, something that was always there just buried under lies and false ideas of what constitutes reality. Stop trying to tell me I’m male-to-female. I was always female. I’ve never been male. That was only lies and deception they put on me. That was never me, that was them. To tell me I was ever male is to lie to my face.
~Vanessa

Concerning Mindfulness

Prompted by a friend who’s been taking me to Sangha, I’ve started practicing Buddhist mindfulness in the Plum Village tradition and reading some of Thích Nhất Hạnh’s books. Namely his books on Fear, Anger and the Full Awareness of Breathing. They’ve really helped me with my anxiety. I averted an anxiety attack the other day just by the use of mindfulness of breathing alone, which is a huge step in the right direction.

If only he had a book on the existential horror creeping in from all sides but I suppose that’s where the works of our first guest on the podcast portion comes in. Stay tuned as we delve deep into Philip K. Dick’s Gnosis, Valis and living in a Gnostic world.

We’ve Forgotten How to Die

I recently visited a haunted school and had a lot of run ins with spirits. The thing is, it wasn’t anything like people think of with all the horror media. They weren’t out to get me, they seemed scared and lost and confused. I was hugged by a little ghost girl in a room full of dolls and I could tell she was trembling, poor thing. She was scared. I didn’t feel any fear, I felt only compassion and love. I wanted to hug her back and tell her everything was going to be ok, but then my group started heading on and she went away.

I was presented with a very different reality to the spirit world than the one you generally hear of. Spirits who are taking to death with the same confusion and fear so many take to life. It was so sad. I wanted to hug each of them and tell them it was going to be ok and that I would show them the way to the afterlife. I wanted to be their psychopomp.

I realized something, they were in death just as lost as in life. I realized just how deeply wounded and unhealthy our society is. Not only have we forgotten how to show each other compassion and who we are and where we come from, but we’ve forgotten even how to die.

We’ve got everything exactly wrong and made a life where we’ll still be recovering from the scars it leaves even after we die.

How sad. How heart wrenching. What can we have of hope in such a world? I realized the only hope we can have in such a broken world comes from complete and utter detachment from this society and a return to the old ways, before the empire, such that after we die we won’t be trapped by it like they were, poor things.

I realized the deeper meaning of Inanna’s descent into the underworld. She knew she was going to die when she set out, that’s why she asked Ninshubur to plead her case to the Anunna. She went into the great below to die. It was never really hubris though that was the charge. It was the ultimate act of humility, the ultimate act of zen and detachment, for a goddess to abandon her position and go to die for enlightenment. Siddhārtha would be proud. She entered the world of the dead to become as one among them. She passed through each gate and was stripped of every item that was her identity in life. She faced Ereshkigal without attachment to anything she had so identified with in life and then made to attack her knowing the sentence would be death and so she died. The goddess who had judged so many in life was finally the judged and sentenced the ultimate fate.

Of course that wasn’t the end. She emerged victorious over death with the assistance of others and came out the other side with the knowledge of the underworld and an understanding of death. She discovered her husband wasn’t who she thought he was, he did not mourn her passing. He was in his throne tending court same as ever. She realized that this relationship that she had so defined herself with was ultimately not what she thought it was and so she divorced him and sent him to the underworld in her place.

The lesson is in detachment, but not detachment from the world by living apart from it. Inanna is passion, she’s the fullness of emotion, she’s not detached from experience. Rather it’s detachment from defining oneself with the articles of this life such that when you reach the ultimate moment, you’re ready to move on and don’t end up trapped here confused and scared doing the same things as you did in life in a slowly decaying building because you don’t know how to be and do anything else.

The War Against the Magical

I hate this world because it is not magical and I have since I was a child. I imagine I am far from alone in this. Most of my favorite films and literature were all about a return to the magical; a trip into fairy.

We in the west have forgotten who we are; buried in our own smug materialism that isn’t even true. Hardly anyone believes in strict materialsm yet it’s the policy of the land and people become viscerally angry when it isn’t adhered to. We call this cognitive dissonance advanced and civilized while we destroy world out of a cannibalistic greed and a seeming obsession to stamp out the fantastic, the natural, the beautiful; the magic of the world. Meanwhile we’re putting outhers to blame for what we do when it is we who are doing wrong. It is like the symptoms of an illness that effects us; effects our minds.

We have the very world we create and we are miserable in it and yet we will not give it up for something better. It’s almost pathological our love-hate relationship we have with it. Are we all diseased? Are we all possessed with the demon of empire and desperately need an exorcism?

We raise our children in literature and media seeping with magic and wonder, practically begging them to believe in magick then we mock them for doing it. It’s like part of us knows and desperately wants to return to the magical and yet another part of us is viscerally horrified of it. Academia seems particularly obsessed with going out of its way to invent fantastic and completely unsubstantiated explanations when even the smallest kernel of the magical starts seeping in, yet creates ideas and theories which are magical in every way but name. Archeology seems utterly fascinated by it, yet goes out of its way to demean and deny it.

What happened to us? We are as a species with amnesia. Something must have gone horrible wrong sometime in the past to give us such a paradoxical obsession and fear of the magical. The church is especially strange in its relationship with the magical and the fantastic. On the one hand, they espouse a doctrine which is practically filled to the brim with magic and ritual, but denies it and condemns it at every possible turn; even going so far as committing mass murder to keep it suppressed. It’s nothing less than completely and utterly bizarre. Why do we behave like this?

Our popular literature is full of demigods and magicians yet we also fill our horror and villany with those same types of folks when the story is closer to the real and average folk. Witches are portrayed as evil but Thor is a heart-throb for his magic. What is wrong with is? Why are we so afraid of what we are?