Mastery Year 3: Part 5: Post 2: Invisibility

It is entirely too hot.

Or, at Charlie would point out, I'm entirely too hot. "It," meaning the weather, is just fine, doing what it does in August.

My annual case of "lasts" has begun, my obsessive awareness of the approaching end of the school year. The beginning of the last semester, the end of the last summer, the last time I might see or do or experience this, that, or the other. There have been years when it was fairly mild, since I knew I'd be back the next year, it's just that I knew people who wouldn't be. The year I completed my novitiate it was very intense, as I knew I'd be entering Absence, three whole years away.

This year it's again different. I'm not going anywhere--I probably won't be living on campus next year, but I intend to remain fully involved as an ally. I won't really ever have to leave. And yet I won't be a student anymore.

I don't know why this bothers me so much. I've been gradually ceasing to be a student for a long time, now. I know novices mostly because I've had them as students, not as classmates. Most of my friends around here are masters or candidates. It's not like I want to be a student here forever, I'd get bored. And yet.

I watched Hawk flying her hawk the other day. I almost wrote "flying with her hawk," but that's what it looked like. Woman and bird seemed equally un-self-conscious, equally focused, and perfectly coordinated, as though they were a single organism and each could go where the other was. It wasn't then quite so hot as it is today, and the sky was a hard, pale blue with streaky clouds across it. Hawk stood at the Edge of the World and launched the bird, not at a specific prey animal--the normal thing in falconry, I understand, as falconers don't want their birds flying free without anything particular to do, lest they fly off--but there were birds in the canopy of the Enchanted Forest, and mice and rabbits and ground hogs in the pasture, especially near the cover of the apple orchard. The bird circled for a bit then dove at something I couldn't see, broke off the attack, and lit in a tree.

Hawk watched the hawk in the tree for a minute or two, then jogged towards the apple orchard and along its edge, through the tall grass where the goats and sheep haven't been yet this year.

Suddenly, a rabbit flushed out of the grass and ran out across the cropped pasture at the base of the Edge and the hawk dove but missed the rabbit by a hair (no pun intended) and the animal dove into a clump of goldenrod and hid. The hawk circled around and returned to the tree, but by that time crows had noticed the situation and began mobbing, calling more and more crows in. The hawk hunched its shoulders, seeming vaguely bothered. Hawk called out, offering a piece of meat, and the hawk flew to her glove. Woman and bird together left the scene, heading for the farm fields and the shed where Charlie butchers deer in the fall.

Neither of them had seen me watching the whole time. I was invisible.

Mastery Year 3: Part 3: Post 1: Beltane

Happy belated Beltane, everyone! The holiday was a few days ago and I am, rather unexpectedly, off to the Island.

Let me tell you about the holiday, first.

This year the first of May came very cold—there was actually a frost the previous night, and in the morning a cold, wet, fitful wind blew. If the clouds had loosed anything it would have been snow. But they held their peace, and the wind blew the sky clear by lunch, leaving an incredibly blue sky and a cheerful, warming sun.

We held the Maypole Dance in the afternoon, followed by most of the other festivities, and pushed ndinner back late into the evening to leave enough time. As Charlie acknowledges reluctantly, modern technology has some advantages, and somewhat accurate weather prediction is one of them.

I didn’t dance but sang and banged away on a tambourine and watched the pattern of the dancers and their ribbons, thinking about how by the next May Day I’ll be actually barred from joining them. I’ll have my green ring, technically a faculty member, and no more able to do this sexual metaphor of a dance with a student than to literally have sex with one. I’ll dance with the masters, I suppose. If they dance. This year, once again, whatever dance they did was private.

As to our other festivities, Kit’s tide seems to be rising again now, though she was actually not very involved. May Day here is largely a project of Sarah and Kit, except their ideas of how to celebrate it are more or less mutually exclusive. Kit favors sexy, bawdy, very adult celebrations that Sarah finds frankly offensive. Sarah favors an event focused on child-friendly activities organized around farming and nature. Kit likes those, but finds them somewhat euphamistic. And so the tension between the two generates a gradual oscillation in the event as first one and then the other gains ascendancy from year to year.

This year saw a return of the concert of slightly bawdy love songs, but Kit wasn’t in evidence except as an audience member. Instead, Eddie was everywhere—and Eddie, too, organized the blessing of the animals and the petting zoo, and a kind of amateur talent show for dogs and their trainers. Eddie in his person embodies both poles of the day, Eddie the incurable flirt, lover and fan of all women, and the devotee of dogs.

Eddie sang most of the songs, either alone or in duet, backed up with a gradually shifting band of students and masters, but the one song that sticks in my mind was the one for which he yielded the stage utterly—to Hawk.

As you may recall, Hawk is a transwoman still mid-transition. If she’s on hormones, they have not yet done much to transform her look. She still dresses like a man when she leaves campus without one of us for company—she says she feels safer that way. But on campus she’s been relaxing into her new identity, developing her style, and generally exploring herself. And it turns out she can sing.

Her voice, of course, is quite deep, and she has not yet learned to adjust it for speaking—I don’t know whether she plans to. But Kit has been coaching her in the use of her falsetto, and she’s at the point now where, as she puts it, she “sounds like herself.”

Hawk sang “Fever,” and she did it with a voluptuousness of soul that brought the house down.

Afterwards, while we were milling around, waiting for the people who had danced to finish setting up the Dining Hall, Charlie approached me.

“You didn’t dance,” he stated.

“No.”

“You didn’t try, did you?”

“No,” I admitted. “I danced more years than not. I figure it’s other people’s turn.”

He looked at me a moment, seeing, probably, my regret and my sadness.

“It’s first-come, first served, not rationed,” he pointed out. I said nothing. “Daniel, when you want something, try to get it. The worst that can happen is you won’t get it.”

I know a Teaching when I hear one, a principle I am supposed to remember.

“In that case,” I asked, “can I come with you to the Island?” I half expected him to say no. I knew he knew I wanted to go, and I knew him perfectly capable of encouraging me to ask for something I couldn’t have, just as an exercise. And I knew I couldn’t expect his attention and company forever. As with the dance, other people deserved their turn.

“Yes, you can,” he told me. “But why?”

“Why?” I echoed. Should I feel hurt?

“No, not why do you want to come, that’s obvious—why is coming to the Island this year part of your education? Make up something plausible.”

“Um, so that I can bring Steve? He needs an intensive exploration of a beautiful place unconnected with his daily life. It’s a sort of test for him.”

“Tell Steve to pack his bags. Talk to Sharon about arranging rides and campsites.”

“Uh, Charlie?”

“Hmm?”

“How ethical is it to draw Steve into this?”

“It’s fine. Because you’re right—he needs to go to the Island.” I must have given him a funny look, because he continued, “Daniel, make the thing you want the solution to other problems.”

And that, too, I realized, was a Teaching.

Mastery Year 2: Part 6: Post 4: A Matter of Personal Style

So, Hawk is a woman.

I forget if I've mentioned Hawk before. If I did, I would have called him a man, because that's what we all thought she was, but now he....I'm getting tangled up in pronouns. I know I'm supposed to use female pronouns, both now and to refer to the past, in order to reflect who she really is, but we haven't been seeing who she really is, and what we have been seeing--and the effort of seeing what we're seeing and trying to persuade our eyes to see something else, now that we know better, deserves description, too. As a writer, as a chronicler, perhaps, I feel torn. Whose reality do I portray?

I've never seen this sort of transformation before. I've only known Eddie and Security Joe as men, and I knew Security Joe for months before learning that he'd ever presented himself any other way. I'm not sure what to make of it, what I'm supposed to think and feel, what it's ok to say and to not say. I don't know Hawk very well.

She doesn't actually look any different, not in any obvious way. If she's taking hormones, they haven't had any effect, yet, and most of the time I see her in uniform, and the uniforms are the same regardless of gender. And yet there is a subtle shift. She's more relaxed. She smiles more, I think.

I saw her the other day, flying a kite on the Flat Field, standing out there in the wind, body braced against the tugging on the line--the kite was very big. I walked over and said hello. For once she wasn't in uniform, though I was. She was wearing a white turtleneck sweater over white women's slacks, and she looked, I swear this is true, like an Eddie Bauer ad. She's thin, with an oval face and ash-blonde hair cut in a sort of androgynous...pixie, I think the word is. Somehow, dressed that way, flying the kite, she looked taller, bigger than she normally does. I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Is Chloe having an off-day?" I asked. Chloe is the name of Hawk's hawk. Hawk is a falconer and is training a young goshawk who lives in the barn--as does Hawk, much of the time, the human/animal bond being important to maintain. Hawk who trains the hawk also lives in Hawk Dorm. Birds everywhere.

"Chloe's fine," she told me, "but fed-up at the moment, and the wind is a bit strong today."

Fed-up, I knew, meant sated and therefore unwilling to perform for food rewards.

"That took courage, your announcement, the other day," I said.

She had stood up in the Dining Hall and said "I'm not sure how else to put this, so, newsflash, I'm a woman. And if you want to know how that works, Google is your friend, because I don't want to talk about it." And sat back down.

"Thanks," she told me.

"Anybody give you any problems?"

"No, everybody's been really welcoming. Of course, I haven't been off-campus dressed as a woman, yet. Kit's taking me on Saturday. We're going shopping. I'll probably end up looking like a glam witch, with her influence, but it's a start."

"How long have you known," I asked. "Forever, or...?"

"I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

"Sorry."

The wind became unstable, choppy, and she fought for a few seconds to keep her kite aloft.

"I suppose I'll have to have sex with Eddie, now," she said, a faint resignation in her voice.

"What? Why?"

"All women on campus do, don't they?"

"I don't think all of them do, just most. You can tell him no, you know."

"Oh, I know, I'm just thinking it might be one of those things, you know, like wearing make-up or high heels, that just comes with the territory."

"Aren't you gay, though?"

"Hey, yeah, I am. I'm not used to saying that....I'm gay. A lesbian. Yup, that's me. But I suppose I'll at least consider it, if he asks. I mean, if I'm going to try out men, I could do worse, you know?"

"I think sex is supposed to be more than 'could be worse,'" I said, feeling a bit defensive of masculinity in general. "But I've had similar thoughts about Rick. But I'm married and anyway he won't ask."

Did I really say that? Yes, yes I did, because Hawk laughed.

"Speaking of which," I added, quietly, "here comes Eddie."

I knew because I'd heard his dog start howling a few minutes earlier, meaning he'd just left the barn. Then I'd heard a squirrel scold in the Formal Garden, which could have meant an animal, but that squirrel doesn't like Eddie since he often has a dog with him and sometimes idly throws rocks and sticks. Finally, I'd heard a splash in the fountain in the garden in front of the Mansion--a habit I knew Eddie has whenever he walks by it. But Hawk had noticed none of those things, and seemed rather startled by my announcement, especially when I turned out to be right.

"Eddie, what's wrong?" exclaimed Hawk, because he, too, was out of uniform, and his bare arms were purple with fresh bruises. He had straw clinging to his clothing and hair.

"Bit of a disagreement with my dog," he said, dismissively. "I came looking for you, Hawk. I thought Chloe might have been frightened by the noise. She might need you."

"Oh, Jesus. Thank you. I'll go check on her." And she began reeling in her kite.

"I'd thought you might have come to flirt with the new girl," I said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hawk crack up with embarrassed laughter, as intended.

"Not yet," Eddie explained, in mock-indignant protest. "I figured I'd give her at least a few days to get used to things."

Hawk, still laughing and shaking her head, had her kite collected.

"You just wain until we run into Rick," she told me.

"Why Rick?" asked Eddie, as we turned back towards the barns.

"Long story," I told him.

"Eddie, how did you learn to dress?" Hawk asked.

"You'd have to asked my parents."

"No, I mean, how'd you learn to dress like a guy?"

"I looked at other men and copied what looked good on them. Also, I watched a lot of old movies. I think it's easier for guys, though. Our clothes are simpler. And, frankly it's easier with hormones. For me, anyway. There were people who refused to see me as anything but a chick no matter how well I dressed."

"That's kind of what I'm afraid of," Hawk admitted. "I don't want to dress like a...caricature of a woman. I want to be able to wear jeans and a sweatshirt if I want to, but I also want to look--and feel--feminine. I wish I had an older sister to help me out with all this. I feel like I have this whole new adolescence to get through all by yourself."

"You're not by yourself," Eddie assured her. "And not like the opinion of a dude should make a whole lot of difference, but you look good today." When Hawk giggled again and looked away, he added "I'm not hitting on you! I'm not actually like that."

I dropped back a pace and watched them talk. Again, I noticed Hawk's height. She didn't look any bigger than she is, I realized--she's a tall woman, but not oddly so. She's shorter than I am. I think I must have been seeing her as smaller than she really is before, and now I can see her more clearly. Or perhaps I was seeing something else and only interpreting it as smallness. She could draw the eye without taking up space.

I guess it was her womanhood I was seeing. I could see her the whole time, I just didn't know it.

Mastery Year 2: Part 2: Post 2: Beliefs

Note: in 2008, the year this is set, Easter was on March 23'rd, which is why the discussion quoted below refers to Easter as having already happened. On the other hand, Passover--which begins later this week--occurred mid-April that year.--D.

"Well, how was Easter around here?" I asked at breakfast.

"Miraculous," Steve, with his customary smile. Sarah sat next to him, nursing Sean, but she said nothing. She has seemed uncharacteristically quiet since they got back to campus.

“Aside from that,” I said.

“Pretty quiet,” Steve explained. “Ollie lead a service, a dozen or so attended, a group of us had dinner together….”

“Yeah, what did you have?” asked June. She and I spent the weekend with my parents, as we usually do, and got back well after dinner.

“Excuse me,” interjected Aimee, a yearling, “I don’t mean to be rude, but do you really believe Jesus rose from the dead?” Aimee is an agnostic and is somewhat scientifically inclined.

Steve shrugged.

“I suppose so,” he said. “I don’t see how the early Christian movement would have come up with the idea if he hadn’t, and a lot of people did claim to have seen him risen. But if somebody proved to me that he hadn’t, I wouldn’t live my life any differently than I do.”

“You suppose so?” exclaimed Diana, who is also Christian, but takes a much more literalist approach. “That Jesus was killed and rose again on the third day is the whole point!”

“I think the point is that He was alive in the first place,” countered Steve.

“I don’t understand you,” said Freydis, speaking to Diana. “We’re friends, and we have lots of things in common, and then you say something that makes we think we’re living on different planets.”

“I believe what I believe,” said Diana, a little defensively.

“I know,” said Freydis, “and that’s what I have trouble believing.”

Aimee spoke up.

“You’re the one who sacrifices animals, though, right?”

“Lots of people sacrifice animals,” Freydis said, a bit defensive herself. “To hunger, to convenience, to money, to fashion…. I sacrifice animals to the gods.”

“Yes, but do you really believe Odin demands goat blood, or something?” Aimee persisted.

“No, I believe Odin—and the others—appreciate being asked to dinner. It’s not like paying my taxes, or something. It’s sharing, it’s giving something back because they have given me so much.”

“But do you really believe it?”

“Of course, I do!”

“Then why aren’t you angry that I don’t?”

“Huh?”

“If I never invited Charlie to dinner because I didn’t think he exists, I’d expect Daniel to get mad.”

The idea of Charlie as Teutonic deity made me laugh into my scrambled eggs. Oddly, the idea kind of fits. Freydis had nothing to say. She just sat there, looking puzzled. 

 

At the end of the table, little Sean had fallen asleep. Sarah reattached the cup of her nursing bra and lowered her shirt. She had been watching the whole conversation carefully and returned her attention to it, but I realized she hadn’t been eating. Her plate contained nothing but a blob of ketchup. Something seemed “off” about that.

“But spiritual beliefs don’t work like that,” put in Apple, a yearling with New Age affiliations. “How each person conceives of the Archetypes is up to them.”

“And those are your beliefs,” insisted Hawk, the rather aptly-named falconer—he gave himself the name, of course. “Diana wouldn’t call them ‘archetypes.’ I wouldn’t. You can’t really speak on religious diversity if you don’t accept that other people’s paradigms are different from yours.”

“Yes, even the stars have their own beliefs,” said Sarah, and I saw everyone else at the table frown slightly. Steve looked frankly alarmed. Again, I had a sense of something being “off.”

“Well, what do you believe,” said Apple, challenging Hawk, perhaps. Hawk is Wiccan.

“I don’t have any beliefs,” he replied. “I know things, or I don’t know them. And if I can know, I find out.”