Bobbi

The day after Christmas is a blur. Two days after Christmas, David drove to New Jersey and I drove an hour north to Ohio to meet a friend who was driving from Johnstown PA to Indianapolis. She used to stay with me regularly when I lived in Pennsylvania and we have missed each other sorely since I hopped over the ocean.

We had lunch and exchanged presents and observations and memories and dreams. Her gift to me, which I have been eager to read, is her book of poetry, which she just had published. I so admire her not only for her talent but also for her perseverance in getting her work published. And her perseverance in all things, really. She is transgendered and that takes a particularly potent form of perseverance. Partly to overcome the obstacles before you in order to realise your intended self. Partly to adjust to a world that is only recently coming to terms with gender as something other than a simple binary concept.

My gift to her was also a book of poetry: Benedictus: A book of blessings. It is by an Irish poet and philosopher whose writings are often quoted at my church. Here is his summary of this book:

We have fallen out of belonging. Consequently, when we stand before crucial thresholds in our lives, we have no rituals to protect, encourage and guide us as we cross over into the unknown. For such crossings, we need to find new words. What is nearest to the heart is often farthest from the word. This book is an attempt to reach into that tenuous territory of change that we must cross…

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