By the Power of Greyskull . . .

"Let us enter the state of war and wake Thor and Woden, courage and constancy, in our Saxon breasts. This is to be done in our smooth time by speaking the truth. Check this lying hospitality and lying affection. Live no longer to the expectation of these deceived and deceiving people with whom we converse."

So writes Emerson in "Self-Reliance," and so it has proven to be. You see, the loss of my leg has liberated me in a certain sense. It has been my habit to hedge bets, to sit on the fence. But I can no longer be caught "limping upon two different opinions," for both figurative and literal reasons (1 Kings 18:21). I will never be a ballerina. I will never be a swimsuit model, an acrobat, or a Solid Gold Dancer. I can stop worrying about such things, and, though it was a source of grief initially, it is now a source of energizing relief.

I recently met a distant cousin who seemed to have everything going for him. He was successful, intelligent, sound, and in the prime of his life. And gorgeous. I was so jealous I felt my ears twitch. In retrospect, though, what is wrong with Bentley having all the advantages? More power to him; I sincerely wish him well. What I was experiencing was not bitterness at my lot, but the familiar sensation of morbid sadness upon witnessing something truly beautiful. Often, miracles of beauty--an inspiring dance, a delicate coloratura, or a flawlessly gorgeous man--leave me desperately sad instead of uplifted. I can only guess that this reaction comes from my desire to own beauty, to be and have those beautiful things instead of observing them. How fortunate for me, then, that my accident has left me with only the natural and transcendent beauty of the world-soul that resides within me like a cabochon at the center of a lotus.

I have spent so much time worrying about my persona, about keeping all of my options open, that I have withheld the truth for fear of burning bridges with people. Rececntly, however, through no virtue of my own, but through the resignation delivered to me by circumstance, I have delivered several hard truths to people and found them more resilient than I would have given them credit for. I have told several guys that I like them only as friends, and (perhaps most empowering) I told Nathan how I felt without retaining hope or expectation. To my surprise, instead of grieving I felt empowered, energized. It was as if Thor and Odin awakened in my Saxon breast. I felt like crying, "Once more into the breach dear friends, once more; or close the wall up with our English dead!"

In looking back on this post, I can't help but notice that it is a bit melodramatic, but that's me. Nothing by half-measure, beautiful or destructive as it may be.