Link to another article on Weed and Transition

It's been a green month! Here's an older article of yours truly, from Northern California's Emerald Magazine:

http://theemeraldmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Transitioning.pdf

2: Memoir Momens

August 3rd, 2015 ; SL, UT

It’s my six month anniversary on Taking back the new Me. 6 Months of dying to wake up. It’s been nine months total in Trans ‘Lization.

Who knew another ol’ transsexual jew would be teaching me to dance for the first time, and write again. I am the student of Trans women the world over. Woman, in all her forms, is my perpetual teacher. I praise that which she embodies, the Divine Feminine.

My mother, my lover, and Kate holy Tranny Jew Bornstein.

Thank you.

From the bottom of my wounded walking warrior stud heart on my shoe strings. Thank you.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’ve been quite lethargic in the middle of the days lately. Some transit’s asking me to slow down and feel myself breathe. Breathe in and breathe out. And to feel the scary parts. The parts that we use control and neurosis to not totally feel, to dull out the pain. They are creeping in on my periphery and I can feel them clouding my vision; on the cusp of my awakening they appear.  

I am learning my new body.

I like my penis. He is small now, but powerful and quite earnest in his contract and release. I am pleased with his transformation so far. I am growing fonder and more familiar all the time. 

I like how my body is hardening, and still how androgynous it is. I sometimes find my breasts sexy, but often not on me, just sexy like phantoms separate from I. I still feel dysphoria from the places where fat has deposited in an estrogen rich body. I have a hard time looking at those parts, still.  

Dancing and writing helps. It is necessary. Working out also feels fabulous and cathartic and empowering. I am a little lion ready to grow large and powerful. The working out is masculine, so is the masturbating with my Peen, and the dancing and the self-penetration is often more feminine. Still, I find myself much on the masculine side, than ever before. I find myself more fierce, confident, sometimes ferocious and impulsive. However, my feminine grows with my masculine, and I can feel places where I am beginning to soften. 

Largely, this is a time of expansion for me. The Me that came before felt so small, when I craved to be as Big as I felt inside. Now I am actually becoming Big, as I navigate around the traps of modern Mask-ulinity. I am shamanically expanding, far beyond any notion of control or power over others. I am looking to have power over myself and to Love first and foremost myself and all beings.  

That is my approach to Life: it be Love.    

Bodies, bODIES

Now I'm a faggot. 

The journey I've taken in the last five years, the words that have exploded from the mouths of young "male" bodies at me, attached to some broken semblance of sick masculinity. Now I am a faggot.

I was once a dyke. Or, more often, a bitch. Now I am a faggot.

In any instance, I am a body. As much as I want to leave this body, here I am. Present and holding space for those-who-deem-me-faggot's sadness.

These are young bodies, deemed exclusively male-sexed by a limited modern scientific standard. Accepted wholly by most. Unaware of divine vessel diversity. These are called Bio males, cis males. Males. Not Fe-males. Not lesser than, lesser though. From the Rib of broken promises. The double edged sword stuck in its own rock. ( and then there's Queer; I mean Here, we are whatever we want to be.)

Let me paint the young bodies for you:
Testosterone-heavy white faces, pink flesh still so smooth from youth, small eyes crippled, small pits, crushed in a state of self confusion and malcontentedness, wrapped in baggy clothes found in the "Young Men's" department. Small but wanting some false big.
They are Off kilter, born into and abandoned emotionally and spiritually by structures inside but beyond their guardians' houses or their neighborhoods' rules. They are called Young Man from a walking age. They become, secretly and loudly, Abandoned Men.

They yell towards me, in my direction. They do not recognize my masculinity. They sense it, take my two spirited balancing energy, Strong Warrior I am, and always next I feel the pain of the imprisonment of their abandonment. They hurt inside, repelled by their own sickness. They once called me Bitch, Dyke, and today, they call me Faggot.

I see that as a parameter of my growth. I went from Sleeping Boy to Genderqueer Invisible to now Young Warrior Man.

Bodies, bodies.

I do not claim or cling to labels, as loud and compulsive as I whisper again and again, them. These clunky rusted words are for you to understand my body's changes, and my positionality within identity politics. I am a man, a male body born into what appears a XX chromosomal body.

I am not female.
Not female to male.

I'm not going TO anything.
Here I am.
Always have been.
My soul and heart and body are Renaissance masculine of center. And I take some minor adjustments, to be  recognized essentially, for my essence.

To fall back into place, my place, my body.
The needle rewrites the frays of my pained and wounded walking.

The sharpness is so I may become soft; the humble instruments are those I dropped so many years ago.

Bodies, bodies. My body. My male always body. My true aeon body. Beyond male body or female body. True body.

My body is a real and true body.
My body is the Neux body.

And one day it will all be seen and recognized and touched for its truth.







LOVE,

Marval The Sea Rex

Tyme time and t-ime again

So, here I be.
Its day four of t therapy.
I say yay for me.

Changes thus far... (all particularly subtle as i am on a low low low dose yo, 25mg/week)

body temperature increased subtly
pee smells a bit different, especially right after shot
I sweat more, possibly
I am so much more thirsty....like I'm in the desert... and this humboldt county
I am noticeably more calm


****ps. for those ftm peeps who suffer from gnarly PMS, like I do/did, starting on a low dose every week was a goddess-send for me, a particularly good choice. My T level went up in a much gentler cycle I believe than if i'd started with 50mg/biweekly. i can't even fathom 100mg biweekly to start off with. Cray.

Spiritually and psychologically I do feel, like I said, calmer, more composed. Even more thoughtful about when to speak or not....and not always feeling the need to speak. It's only been four days but I pay a lot of attention to myself now.
I have moments where the unknown future about what I will look like/how I will be feels slightly scary and my more rational side is like, "what're you doing?"
This question doesn't scare me, as I know full-heartedly I am on the Path that is Mine. But it is good to note. Beginnings are always a tad awkward and the Libra in me wants balance.

Spiritually I feel enlivened, like I am on an adventure. I can't help but think of Link from Zelda, Ocarina of Time. I just left Kokiri village and am off into the big wide world of authentic self. Interacting with others is generally smoother, I am more confident but not egomaniacal. I enjoy my body, moving it. The dysphoria is real when I see the femininity of it, but I know in good time it will all balance out and synchronize.

Thank goddess for HRT and transgender health. I am so blessed.

 Love love love!

MARVAL

February fifth, T minus 3 Daze

I am thankful for this meal. For this meal I am thank full, thank you, meal. Thank you bodice. I am in utter awe. Grief is a celebration of life. I am stricken.
I am mounted. Stigmata written on my leg, where the first of magic entered. I mark blood on the journey to reclaim my lingam, my phallic sensibilities, to transform any known understanding of the latter into a deviled and foolish thing; my own physicality itself a burden to the eyes of the Otherized who cannot see.

But right in front of you, I will force your head. Gentle gentle gentle. With the terrifying power of unconditional devotion, Love, agape, I will force your chin upwards, downwards, both ways to upend the daze. Perhaps I feel the martyr encoded within me rise up and take you all on. It is just mechanics, design, I am just a building going my way. "And young And naive And And And martyrdom." I am just a building, up in flames, to rebuild again.

This small- handful of days where the magic has crept into my bloodstream, I know I am now, talon by talon, through the doorway. The doorway to where I meet all of you, to burn baby burn with you, for you, at you. I am a monkey, watch me dance. And all that jazz.

But narcissistic devotations aside, I realize. I come into awareness, into realization. I am doing the best for myself, and that has been the greatest challenge thus far. I have always done the best for others, and now I am doing the best for myself. And my life has changed. My life is change. Stigmata on my leg, and I am a phoenix who must die to wake up, and wake up to die.
What a wonderful life.