Love accepts and embraces. Love doesn’t judge; it doesn’t own. Self-loathing judges and owns. Ego judges and owns. Love, well, loves.
After all, making a decision based on how you feel right now is often silly.
My son is now 11. Each of his years has brought with it certain delights and challenges.
There are times I don’t recognize myself.
There’s a house there. See it? I see it, too. But I see it from here and you see it from there. We are standing in different positions.
Think about the wide cast of characters who go into making a movie.
“There’s an energy crisis happening, all right: a human one.”
A man lies on his living room floor. His eyes are closed, arms by his side. His face is still, even, but occasionally furrowed.
Decades ago, I was visiting a friend in Maine on this incredible island called Isle Au Haut with almost no people, no electricity, no running water.
What seems conspicuous is that both explore, to a greater or lesser degree, the conditions of becoming within the confines of culturally defined gender roles.