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I found this poem in my father's papers a few years ago after he passed away. And I found it again yesterday as I was (finally!) going through everything, trying to tidy things up. The poem really touches my heart and I think it's perfect for us here. Living the Dash I read of a man who stood to speak At the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on her tombstone From the beginning... to the end. He noted that first came her date of birth And spoke the following date with tears. But what he said mattered most of all Was the dash between those years. For that dash represents all the time That she spent alive on earth... And now only those who loved her Know what that little line is worth. For it matters not, how much we own; The cars... the house... the cash. What matters most is how we live and love And how we spend our dash. So think about this long and hard... Are there things you'd like to change? For you never know how much time is left, That can still be arranged. If we could all just slow down enough To consider what's true and real. And always try to understand The way other people feel. And be less quick to anger, And show appreciation more. And love the people in our lives Like we've never loved before. If we treat each other with respect, And more often wear a smile. Remembering that this special dash Might only last a little while. So, when your eulogy's being read With your life's actions to rehash... Would you be proud of the things they say About how you spent your dash? Author Unknown Photo: I like to have at least a small connection between the photo and the blog posting and I'm not sure I'm achieving that now. But I'm starting to run low on photos! Anyway, this is one I took on a Norwegian fjord several years ago. Besides the scenery, which is remarkable and awesome, I really liked the image of a single small boat with two people in such an immense space. I guess it's a bit like living the dash in that we do at times feel like we're pushing out into the unknown. Hopefully we have someone to share it with, like the pair in this boat.

It may be too soon to be sure but at least it feels that way. For the last 50 years I feel like I’ve had a fever that ranged from slightly above normal to scarlet, along with raging shame, depression, and self-loathing. I can’t fully express how weird it is to be writing this now with my head clear. I’m transgender, I know it, I love it, and I’m happy. (Postscript edit: I heard from Monica that she thought I was actually recovering from a fever. No, I thought it was a handy metaphor for the feeling we all get when we know we're starting to get "better" if you know what I mean. Sorry if I caused any confusion!) I found this video last night, where Laura Jane Grace (whom I admit I’d never heard of before) and others tell about their gender dysphoria: http://www.huffingto..._n_6000588.html It’s not like I’ve never heard this stuff before, those feelings of wanting to play with the girls, share in the expression of their girlhood. I know it about myself, remembering from about four or five that, like Laura said, “I was too young to know what it is, so it turns to shame. And if you were to express those feelings to someone else, you’d be shamed for it.” But hearing her say it in the video really spoke to me so that I feel like I really did hear it internally. It’s not BS, it’s not at all bad. It’s me. Wow, what a beautiful day. Love, Emma Photo: I found this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Osaka, Japan, that features Kobe beef cooked right in front of you, along with sake and other goodies. The name of the restaurant really caught my attention: "CowCow". I ate there a couple of times and the owner introduced me to sake that has tiny flakes of gold. But to see them you have to swish it around in the glass to stir them up.