No Regrets

  
I find little to nothing in my life I regret. Regret would mean I was wrong. I've made mistakes, but I am not wrong. I've hurt others. I've made poor choices. I've taken risks resulting in tragic outcomes. These are moments like all other moments in my life. They hold no more or less weight or sway than the lovely decision to marry my husband or the exciting decision to publish my writing. In fact, these point shape who I am. I constantly look back on them and learn new lessons.

Take the seminary for example, something that could be a regret or at least regretful. While in it, my lesson was cut it of, let it go, break up with your faith if you want to live. After seminary, it was do whatever you can to disrupt the church including speaking ill of it and brining safer sex conversations into its walls. It was a reaction of pain, one I hoped to inflict in equal measure to the hurt I felt. There was no limit. Now, it is reflective still tinged with pain and anger but beyond it was well. It is a detachment that allows me to have conversations of faith without loud outbursts.

Regret is like being stuck in an emotional loop. It re-traumatizes you because your experience of the event never changes. Yes, the facts of the event don't change. I went to seminary for one semester, which can be imperially proven. But the story changes.

That is liberation. That is something beyond the initial experience. That is something others can never manipulate. That is why I don't regret anything or almost anything. If I did, I would lose my liberation.

And that is something I would regret.

Shifting Sands of Sinking and Elevation

 
There are moments of utter clarity that mark time in a manner relative. Those moments shine like a beacon pointing to a truth yet unknown. It is a constant shifting, a movement of sand beneath the feet that cause sinking and elevation in equal measure. These are the moments I love. These are the times I am free. It doesn't mater whether it is a step backwards or forwards because both steps lead to the same outcome. That is destiny. Easily redirected. Never changed.

A Vacation to Proposal

    
We made our way from San Francisco to Seattle to visit his best friend. It was our first vacation together. A road trip was a risky venture, but would prove whether or not we could actually get along. You can lean a lot sharing such close quarters.

We drove past Mt. Shasta up to Crater Lake in Oregon. We found a seedy motel in an abandoned mining town. I think we heard mice in the walls. We had a hamburger in the only restaurant open that wasn't fast food. We kept reaching out to hold hands or trying to kiss, but pulled back realizing where we were and unsure of safety. It was night and hard to get our bearings.

Then, we headed to Mount Hood and Portland. We spent a day and night taking in the blue-collar city filled with brick buildings. The architecture reminded me of my family and unions. From Portland, it was a straight shot to Seattle. Along the way, we found this kitschy diner off the freeway that loved collectible ceramics. We just had to have this hideous cat with polka dots all over it. It was meant as a gift, but now resides on a kitchen shelf.

The trip was going smoothly. I found myself falling more and more in love with each passing day. He was tender and considerate as well as determined to ho things he liked and also willing to trudge though the snow to find a creek off the freeway when I just had to take in nature. He was a fabulous travel partner. He was a fabulous partner.

We went out drinking one night in Seattle. All of us were laughing and joking and singing along to the music being played. Or at least I was singing along. I couldn't keep my hands off him, which made him uncomfortable and skittish. He just looked at me and kissed me. more drinks. More laughter. More affection.

We stumbled back to out friend's apartment. His friend was gracious and gave us his bed. We spooned and had restless drunken sleep. We both woke early in the morning still drunk. I leaned over and whispered, "Will you marry me?" He told me to ask him later when I wasn't still drunk.

It was a great first vacation. We drove back to San Francisco in record time stopping only close to the Oregon border at a hotel on the beach. We drove down dirt paths through redwood trees at sunset. We kissed and held hands and gazed into each other's eyes. We did all the stereotypical romantic things. I wanted to marry him He still wanted to wait until after the trip to decide.

I started searching for a ring immediately when we got back. I looked everywhere but couldn't find one. Then, I walked in to a little boutique on 16th Street specializing in all things skulls, and there in one of its cases was a custom silver skull ring. I bought it grinning ear to ear.

I walked home nervous. It had only been about two weeks since we were back. I didn't know if it was too soon. I threw up a little bit on 18th Street getting closer to home. I almost threw up again on 20th Street.

I knocked on the door and got on one knee. He opened it and turned red. In my hand was a small black box. He opened it and said yes.