Nathan Aaron, Author

01/02/2024

Reflections: January 2, 2024

HOPE

There are many things that people droll on about at the end of the year, or rather the beginning, as it seems to be. It’s a time for reflection, rejuvenation and some might say resolution. We highlight our accomplishments, hold ourselves accountable for newly implemented diet/exercise routines, or wearily reference the things that went bad vowing never to allow them to happen again. As if it were that simple.

To some degree it’s comforting to see all the resolutions that people make. I like seeing friends stand up for a better, more refined version of self. Who doesn’t love a hero’s journey? Besides, it’s a worthy cause to make a fresh start in a new year. However, appealing to my more cynical side, I often find myself rolling my eyes and saying to myself with a proverbial cigarette in one hand and bourbon on the rocks in the other, “Sure Janet, I just bet you’re going to read 45 books this year.” Rest assured, Janet is not going to read 45 books, but she IS going to listen to upwards of 30 audiobooks at a rate of 3x the speed and then proceed to call it “reading”. I digress (sardonically flicks cigarette ash in tray*).

But I certainly don’t want to be left out of the great yearly self-evaluation, with an emphasis on well curated moments that point to where I went right (or wrong, I suppose). I too, want to climb the Matterhorn of self-discovery, placing my flag high atop, marking my arrival while I wax philosophic about my plans for the year ahead. Or rather confessing my rejections of the year past. Either way, it seems noble.

Though, on second thought, I’ve been burned one too many times making public proclamations regarding the future and the past so I’ll likely not do any of that. By burned - I mean I’ve been humbled beyond belief so I try to go gently in a direction that feels safe if even it becomes, unbeknownst to me, uncharted shark infested waters. What can I say? I’m no fortune teller.

This year was no different than any before, and as I started performing the breast stroke through life I soon found myself being encircled by the blood thirsty predators that only comes from finding oneself swimming in extremely deep unfamiliar oceans. This last year was another year of learning, understanding and healing. Though, I don’t think that’s earth-shattering news as any one of us in any given year has the opportunity to learn, understand, and heal.

However, this year was a little intense. I’m stubborn, so it takes me a while to understand any sort of enlightenment. By the time I start to get it I’m already being dragged kicking and screaming into the next less desirable iteration of life while bargaining with whomever or whatever is doing the dragging that I now want to do it the easy way and NOT this way. Alas, I will have waited too long and must surrender to the hard way as it seems to be the only option. I don’t say that in a self-shaming way. It’s just how I’m wired – that is until I choose to do it differently. One day far in the future, no doubt. Did I mention I’m stubborn?

While I won’t bore you with all of the bruised details you can surmise that the aforementioned shark infested waters of life proved to be alive and real this year with me barely emerging unscathed (though I’m not quite sure I’ve actually emerged) having my legs rubbed raw as the sea-dwelling beasts of prey brushed up against me threatening my every move. They got as close to me as possible without having me for lunch. Or dinner.

This year, due to a shocking revelation, I discovered (with the help of my Spiritual Director, Irene) that I have a penchant for transactional behavior especially where matters of the Divine and the universe are concerned. Things like: I do this, the universe gives me that. I make those strides, the Divine rewards me with these things. I soon understood that that my newly found awareness of being someone whose actions were always transactional, also rendered me a person lost without hope.

The problem was that what I had been relying on as *hope* had actually been some truncated ever-failing version of control and manipulation. My particular brand of hope felt like climbing upside down on a mountain that was covered in ice. As I reflected on that frightening image, I realized that I didn’t know what hope was or how to invoke it in a healthy way. My version of hope was anxiety ridden, and while I don’t know much I don’t think that’s how it’s meant to be.

Over the last several months I’ve set out to find a version of hope that is, shall we say, less wired. I’ve written in my journal, taken long meditative walks, and have had even longer talks with myself (and whatever might be listening) asking that a manifestation of this illusive virtue be given to me. At times it was almost like I could touch it. I’d try to fling a lasso around it to catch it in midair, only to realize I was yet again attempting to trade in transactional manipulation. This left me feeling strained, stressed, and stricken (I'm not sure this is the correct word, but you get the picture. Both comedy and alliteration work best in “threes”. What was I to do?).).

While this post won’t end with a lavish discovery of the meaning of hope, I will offer something that’s a bit more manageable. For the sake of a new year, I’ve decided to flirt with the idea of anticipation instead. Hope, as it were, still seems somewhat overwhelming as the tentacles of my bargaining past remain intact, although slightly more pliable. Cautiously, I will say that I’ve experienced dwelling in anticipation a few times without insisting that the Divine perform for me like a Genie in a bottle. And I liked it. This is much harder than it may sound, and I’m not exactly winning at it- though it’s my intention to stay in that space more each day. A space of wonder where I’ve done my absolute best. Without holding on. Without trying to control. Without transacting results.

As I sit here pondering in the first few days of a new year I remember a line at the end of Amor Towels debut novel Rules of Civility where the main character Katey Kontent stares out at the Empire State Building from her New York City apartment terrace. She looks back on the remarkable and painful twists and turns her life has taken and muses to herself.

“I have hoped; I am hoping; I will hope.”

Here’s to a year that I hope is filled with hope (or at the very least, anticipation).

Nathan Aaron

12/20/2023

Hey folks! It's just a few days before Christmas and you might be searching for last minute gifts. What better gift to give than that of a book. Why not my give my book,A Knot in the Tree?

I've just received word that I've been accepted as an author on ShopQ***r.co which is an online bookshop that supports Q***r authors. I'll be in the company of RuPaul, Sasha Velour, Elliot Page and more.

If you like the idea of supporting the LGBTQIA+ community then click the link below and give my book a purchase.

"When you set out on a journey guided by the universe, magical experiences will find you. "A Knot In the Tree" is an ambitious work of fiction that shares one man's journey towards growth, self-actualization, and self-love. Nathan Aaron's novel reminds readers to embrace each step throughout life's journey, and to remember that life is about the journey, not the destination.

Joniah, a young gay man in a small European village, has reached a crossroads where he must decide if he will continue a life of mundanity or set out on a physical and spiritual adventure requiring risk, faith, and courage.

He moves through several obstacles placed before him and he eventually learns that the universe is working in his favor if he will follow the signs. As he surrenders to the voice of his spirit, he not only learns to trust himself but meets friends along the way who help him discover his personal connection to the universe and its magic"

Happy Holidays!

https://shopqueer.co/products/9781667800943

When you set out on a journey guided by the universe, magical experiences will find you. "A Knot In the Tree" is an ambitious work of fiction that shares one man's journey towards growth, self-actualization, and self-love. Nathan Aaron's novel reminds readers to embrace each step throughout life's j...

07/12/2023

Reflections: The Cracks in the Light

Several weeks ago, I was bemoaning the current state of affairs that has become my life, in a conversation with a dear long-suffering friend, by wondering aloud when the universe would finally give me a break. As we went deeper into the conversation something about how I was looking at my experience persisted. It wasn’t about the victory, or the overcoming, or the rising up part of the journey. It was about the defeat.

In that moment Leonard Cohen’s famous song Anthem came rushing to mind which talks about how the cracks in life make room for the light. Many have written about this – myself included - but usually when writing about this concept the focus is on the glint of light that’s fighting its way through the darkness while we quickly abandon the horrible thing that has brought us to our proverbial knees.

In the conversation with my friend, I suddenly understood that the crack, as Cohen puts it, isn’t something simply to be diminished by the light, nor is its only job to be a vehicle of spiritual resurrection. It is a part of me that deserves my attention – not just something to get over or be healed from. That which cracks signals that a transformation is about to take place. Yet, I abandon that part of myself while wading through the lessons gleaned from their sharp edges as if their only purpose was to carry me to the cash and prizes of the light on the other side.

The question remains - why do we so quickly turn away from the cracked part of us that has been with us for so long? Isn’t it also part of the transformation bringing us to this very moment? The easy answer is that we are trying to escape the stress, brokenness, and oppression that comes with the trials- which makes perfect sense.

I too, find myself pining away for the time when a glimmer of light comes bursting through the clouds to save me. And if history is any indicator, I know that once the long-awaited light comes I’ll run so fast from the darkness conjuring up a story that I’ve dodged a bullet barely making it out unscathed. But there is no bullet to dodge. What has actually happened – or is happening – is that I’m being called to make peace with the darkness. To me this seems like a messy and inefficient way to go about things because I want out. I want to pretend that it was just a fluke that I found myself in that position to begin with. And more importantly, I want to hustle for everyone’s approval letting them know that it won’t ever happen again provided I dot every “i” and cross every “t”. But is this the right approach?

To be clear, I’m not advocating to live in misery, or to morbidly glorify heartache by rejecting the light when a way out is offered or swatting away an encouraging hand that is dropped down to our side to help us up. On the contrary, we rejoice in the glory of the reprieve and take the grace that is offered. However, I’m wondering what would happen if we simply became inclusive of the light instead of abandoning the darkness altogether. What if the darkness is there to inspire much needed compassion toward ourselves by coexisting with the light?

That which remains in us is the part of us that cracks, the part of us that is broken down, the part of us that had to reach up for the hand that was offered or open an eye to see the light so bright we were nearly blinded. We are still that.

I am still that.

The heartache- however healed, the brokenness- however repaired, the addiction- however recovered, the isolation- however surrounded, the financially challenged- however solvent. Not in spite of it, but because of it. I need the cracked part of myself to not only serve as a reminder of where I’ve been, but as a tool to help me practice having compassion for all parts of myself. The light in me can only shine brighter by accepting the darkness that birthed it.

As luck would have it while I was mulling over this concept, I came across a quote that had resonated with me a decade ago when I was reading Pema Chodron’s book, When Things Fall Apart.

“We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. They come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”

Expansion and inclusion seem to be what it is being called for rather than abandonment and rejection. Transformation of me includes ALL parts of me, not just the light. While this is far more vulnerable, it is also more authentic and authenticity leads me to a place of quiet humility.

It is often in this place where acceptance – the lovechild of inclusivity and expansion- arrives gently flirting with me, to open wide my arms to receive grief, joy, ruin and hope. Begrudgingly, I manage to ever so slightly lift my arms in surrender of something broader. Something deeper. Something that creates more curiosity.

These are the gifts that make room for the beauty of the cracks, light, and wholeness of who I am.

07/07/2023

(The below serves as a response to an unasked question in a line of text from the hymn, “O Come to my heart, Lord Jesus, there is room in my heart for thee”)

room:
noun
1. space that can be occupied where something can be done, especially viewed in terms of whether there is enough. (Oxford Dictionary)

Is there room
in my heart?

Is there enough room deep in my heart to simply let go where once I felt that I had to hold tight the reins of perceived safety?

Is there room within me to advocate for myself in righteous stillness without feeling shame or even entitlement?

Is there room to discover my own whole “being-ness” as I muster the strength to patiently and vulnerably sit with a once hated part of myself?

Is there room to feel empowered where once I felt subservient by the demands from the authoritarian ruling of my oppressors?

Is there room for loneliness to stroll free in the corridors of my heart as I grieve for what has been lost, stolen, taken away - where once I believed it to be a moral failing to not climb the tall mountain of sugary sweet happiness with cascading fountains of precious attitudes?

Is there room to allow the healing to take however long it takes, without insisting that it be done on a timeline of my own making so that I can prove my value to the world?

Is there room for acceptance of what is as I slowly begin to learn the things that everyone else already seems to know while life speeds past with the force and momentum of a stock car on race day?

Is there room for the quietness and appreciation of judgement-free self-awareness to take root in the fecund soil of my soul that is begging for young seedlings to lovingly steward into full maturity?

Is there room for the sacredness of what was once the manifestation of abusive manipulation to miraculously become exactly what the gifts were always intended to be – a wholly, worldly, ministry for all people that includes the comfort of hospitality, beauty, and service – performed out of desire, not of subjugation?

Is there room for acceptance and celebration of those that have been othered- where once misguidance, fear, and rotted indoctrination, had me reasoning that my beliefs were the last stop on the road to rightness?

Is there room for committing to simply doing my best, where once the standard of perfection was the only option that was to be attained by exhaustive striving and straining of the most valued hard-working indentured servant that always seems to miss the mark regardless of how fervent the actions were?

Is there room for the holiness of who I am and who I was made to be, where it was once crowded with religious dogma piled on by men and women who hated themselves as much as they wanted me to hate myself?

Is there room to resurrect the cavernous, cathedral, of candidly, joyous wit where there once lay a cackling, corroded, carcass of unused personality traits deemed too wild or risqué for the “called of God"- long buried in a graveyard of confusion and contempt?

Is there room for buoyancy to build holistic self-compassion and radical understanding within a structure that was once pieced together by the quick drying concrete of self-loathing and regret only to be strengthened by the façade of humiliation and remorse?

Is there room to offer kindness, compassion, gentleness, and peace to myself before I dare offer a bastardized version of these fruits of the Spirit designed to be given to others but soon become fetid and stale if not first applied to the giver by the giver?

And, is there room deep in myself to rest in the flow and grace that is offered from a loving universe, without having to first prove that I’m deserving of its benefits?

Is there enough room?

Yes.
There is room in my heart…
for ME.

12/15/2022

Have you bought my book yet for yourself/friends/loved ones? It's Christmas and everyone deserves a beautiful gift. My book is just the thing. The Bookbaby link is in comments or you can buy it anywhere you enjoy purchasing books.

"When you set out on a journey guided by the universe, magical experiences will find you. "A Knot In the Tree" is an ambitious work of fiction that shares one man's journey towards growth, self-actualization, and self-love. Nathan Aaron's novel reminds readers to embrace each step throughout life's journey, and to remember that life is about the journey, not the destination."

12/13/2022

It's almost Christmas! You should be buying my book for your friends and loved ones - link in comments

"When you set out on a journey guided by the universe, magical experiences will find you. "A Knot In the Tree" is an ambitious work of fiction that shares one man's journey towards growth, self-actualization, and self-love. Nathan Aaron's novel reminds readers to embrace each step throughout life's journey, and to remember that life is about the journey, not the destination."

12/06/2022

Need a gift idea for Christmas? Check out my book (link in comments)
"When you set out on a journey guided by the universe, magical experiences will find you. "A Knot In the Tree" is an ambitious work of fiction that shares one man's journey towards growth, self-actualization, and self-love. Nathan Aaron's novel reminds readers to embrace each step throughout life's journey, and to remember that life is about the journey, not the destination."

08/23/2022

Joniah, the main character in my book, A Knot in the Tree (link in comments), finds a book called "Journey" in a friend's library and uses it as a guide on his own quest to find his purpose.

Do you ever feel you made all the wrong decisions? Do you wonder what would happen if you had taken another path?

As the book says - don't allow yourself to entertain that way of thinking. Once you make the choice to choose a path it becomes part of your story and must be honored with love.

08/16/2022

In my novel, A Knot in the Tree (link in comments) once Joniah sets out on an adventure to find his purpose in life he comes across a book titled, "Journey" which he devours in a quest to learn more about himself and finding his place in the universe. Below is a quote from the book.

Do you find that your own rigidity makes it hard to quiet you mind to listen to something deeper and higher? It happens to the best of us.

However, we could all take a lesson from Joniah who found the courage to listen to his soul. Even though he had fear- he did what it told him to do.

Who knows...you may just find what you're called to do.