"You Can't Go Home, Again..."

Thomas Wolfe said it most iconically, and it's true; one can return to the place where Home once was and the place may still be there, but the Home one left will no longer be.

We all do know this; I knew this, coming in. Intellectually, I knew that San Francisco is not the same town I'd left, 21 years ago. Though, a part of me believed that if any place was or is Home to me, it would be here in SF. And, actually, that's true; were any place to be Home, it would have been here...and it isn't.

I am not At Home, here. I think that there is no Place that is my Home.

For not being At Home, this is a pretty wonderful place to be. San Francisco is a beautiful city, and I can do more for people here than I have found myself able to do in any other city. My history makes me welcome in contexts where I can build relationships among disparate communities, find support for agencies and communities that need it and get money raised for non-profits. I am fearless in asking for help for others, and am able to apply that to places and people that are close to my heart.

The National AIDS Memorial Grove, for one. I am fully engaged in building and evolving this year's "Light in the Grove" event and honored to have been asked to co-Chair the evening. This is profoundly fulfilling, to do what I can do for an iconic place of remembrance; something so close to my heart and soul.

At work, though I subsist, I love the work. Watching the faces of people as I teach my workshops; people who are so accomplished in their own lives yet trepidacious - even afraid - of the technological devices in their hands. Talking to these people, peer to peer, and sharing my own thrill with and enjoyment of these devices gives me the opportunity to open a portal for them to appreciate the elegant and accessible design and truly affect their lives in a positive way.

In my classes are mostly people my own age or even older (if you can imagine!) who approach learning to use their iThings with a mixture of fear and shame and embarrassment at not knowing...dressed in bravado or humor or anger...but at least they are there. I watch, closely, as I share and demonstrate features and their use in the Real World these men and women inhabit and gradually, they lighten up... Then I start to show 'em some of the great tools these devices can be, and faces start to light up. "You mean, I can just do this...?" Sometimes I see jaws drop and even hear an "awesome" or two.

They enter, fearful and nervous; holding their devices and thinking, "I only want to be able to surf the web and watch a movie and maybe write emails to my niece or grandson..." They depart, excited about making a movie or chatting face to face from far away or seeking directions from one part of a strange town to another; manipulating maps and images and video and music and finding new and creative ways to express themselves or just to make day-to-day tasks easier.

These devices can't hurt 'em and can't be broken, and neither can the internet!

Last week, I encountered a woman who'd been in my class, before. She was attending a session before one that I was to teach, and I was there a bit early. "Hey, Nancy," I said, "it's great to see you here!" She'd been frustrated in my class and was unable to keep up with the demonstration. Her frustration had been in her way when I was teaching, so I was glad that she'd returned...

Now this is a woman of intelligence and means; one can see from the clothes and the hair and the bearing and the manner in which she expresses herself.

But. She looked past me, sort of into the distance, and quietly ranted, "I just couldn't understand anything this boy said. He talked too fast and kept telling us all this technical stuff and nobody can understand what he's talking about." Then her eyes welled-up and she said, "I think I should just return this thing; I'm just too stupid to work it."

No way I was letting THAT happen. I had her sit down, next to me, and I told her that there is no way she should return that. That she was going to see the magic in her hands if it was the only thing I did, today. I asked her to trust me, to go have a cup of coffee while I taught the next class and return in an hour and I'd be available to take all the time needed to share how this thing worked with her.

She agreed.

Back in an hour, she said, "I went to my club, had a glass of wine and read a REAL newspaper and now I'm ready for you..." And, she was.

We sat at one of the tables in the store for about an hour and I walked her through some of the steps of the programs and applications that make these things so great, especially for people such as her. Answering questions, making suggestions, allowing her to be the interface with the device and sitting beside her as I talked her through it. (Teaching her that "tapping" the screen didn't need to be aggressive was key in operating the thing.) At 45 minutes, she SMILED!

We started to pack up and she was saying that her 4-year old niece used the iThing to find Farmer's Markets in SF last weekend; something that would have taken herself two hours of phone calling to accomplish. I sat her right back down and taught her google maps. We typed "Farmer's Markets San Francisco" into the search field and BING; about ten pins dropped into the map, complete with addresses, directions, websites, hours and phone numbers.

Uh, wow.

So that was her homework for the night, "just go home and type things into the google window, Nancy, and see what you get..."

She showed up, again, a few days later to attend another workshop, after which she had scheduled a Genius Bar appointment. You GO, Nancy. She said she almost brought me flowers...that her KIDS wanted to bring me flowers because she'd stopped bellyaching and pestering them.

This stuff; I love. I love it.

But Home? Not so much. I am happy to be in this nice city; the weather's good and the people are friendly and I think I'm making more of a difference than I have in a while on a day-to-day basis. That's nice and good. Though, I am as alone here as I've been anywhere.

Personally, deeply lonely; financially, skating on a very thin edge that is about to crumble.

Now that I've come here, thinking it was Home, I think I see that I have no place that is Home. I do have several Hearts in several places that can offer a Home of sorts to me; friends whose arms outstretch when I come within reach. Wonderful people with whom I share parts of my history of learning and adventure who welcome me into their homes, share hearth and larder with me, love me for whoever I am.

But I have no Home, really. I see that, now. I'm glad to have come to San Francisco, finally, and seen what is true. Not having remained anywhere for enough time, no place I've been can be a Home to which I can return. It was only my Home when I was here, making it so.

San Francisco is a new city; very similar to the one in which I lived for over a decade, so long ago, and in which I became a great part of the man I think I may now be as I may have continued to evolve, along the way.

Now that I am here, though, I see that it does not recognize me as part of it. I don't feel unwelcome, and I do see opportunity; as I might in any City. The difference, here, is that I have a good reputation and a History on which to stand when reaching out to do more good work. This is work I am compelled to undertake, and I like doing it in San Francisco.

I've accepted responsibility for a few projects that will be seen-through, and then I'll see what shapes up for me. A good friend, a man whom I admire greatly and have for nearly thirty years, chuckled the other day when I said something about what the Universe might have in store for me, here in San Francisco. He looked at me and said, "Kile, you're assuming there is a plan..."

I laughed and said I knew that, but that it is so comforting to embrace such a possibility, as the truth is that there is no plan nor a planner; nobody's watching out for me but me, which makes all of this randomness seem so....unsure.

When all is said and done; I'm not the surest bet!

A Special Note to Volunteers in AIDS & HIV

Yesterday, I received a letter of thanks from someone I won't identify, here. Though many who read what I write, here, may know him; what he says is directly relevant to anyone who gives of themselves to support agencies and facilities in the fight against AIDS and HIV. I can add nothing to what he says; thus, I cede my space to this man to share what he has to say...

Hello

Some of you have been getting emails from me intermittently for the last decade; some are more recent recipients.  All of you are aware of my battle with HIV/AIDS.

On October 28th of this year, I celebrate a special anniversary.  It will be 20 years ago to the day I sat in Whitman-Walker clinic in Washington, D.C. and Dr. Graham Beard and Dr. Henry Wray forever changed my life; they told me I was HIV+.  I was a senior in college, bartending at the local college watering hole, dating a nice Jewish girl from Chicago and sleeping with my first boyfriend, a med student from [redacted for privacy].

Some of you are aware, at my low point, Christmas of 2005, I survived fungal meningitis, but not without physical cost.  My T-Cell count was 2.  1-2.  Several of you more sensitive folk held a naming contest for the 2 of them.  Ever since then, I have worked with some of the top doctors in the world that specialize in patients who long term survivors with low t-cell counts.  It has been a long, hard road over these last years, and I am thrilled to tell you I was told today my TCell count is 211, the highest it has ever been and my viral load is undetectable.  As an added bonus, my uric acid is under control, and I have not had a gout flare up in 9 months... I have put away my Gouty the Clown red nose and shoes.

Why am I telling you this?  Is it to tell you how happy I am that things are looking up? You bet.  But there is another reason.  Many of you reading this have served on Boards of HIV/AIDS organizations across the country; volunteered hundreds if not thousands of man hours to help those affected by HIV/AIDS, and have written so many checks for AIDSRiders, AIDSWalkers, AEF, GMHC you drained the ink in your pens and some of your savings...  sometimes you might wonder... to what end?

Read my note above.  I am walking, living, thriving proof that all your efforts count; they matter.  The drugs that raise my TCell that cost millions of dollars to develop, the services available in San Francisco, and all across the country, that support those affected by HIV/AIDS, my ability to co-exist in this community...you had a part in it.  And for your full circle moment, this allows me to work diligently for [redacted for privacy], be of service to the recovery community here in SF, and try as best as possible to be available as a friend and family member.

So I guess this is a long-winded Thank You note. 

So, thank you....  what more can I say?

See you soon (it feels great to write that)

------------------

I can add nothing to what this man has to say...

Onward, all...

Kile

Justa Flaggin' Minnit...

Back from Dubai…

Four days from first inquiry to departure for Dubai, four weeks from touchdown to liftoff for home; 28 intense days, sheltered from the extreme heat of the Arabian Desert while immersed in what became a hotbed of creativity amidst a sometimes smooth, sometimes cacophonous mixing of cultures; both geographic and corporate.

This month in Dubai was to become one of the affirming and fulfilling Moments of my life. Recommended as stand-in by and for a world-class producer of spectacle; the pressure was great and the time was short. There was no room in the schedule for me to second-guess myself; I had to hit the proverbial ground, running, be fully present and aware, trust my instincts and deliver the best product possible – representing well the icon who recommended me and giving the client a production design and plan that would support the victory of her bid for this job.

I accomplished the first and I believe we accomplished the second; we won’t know until a decision is rendered, in mid-September. Meanwhile, the results seen day-by-day were tangible and unique; I’m excited to see how this proposal is received.

Yet, the true value in this sojourn in the sand was in my affect on the people with whom I was fortunate to work. The atmosphere when I arrived was of an overworked group of creative and production professionals under tremendous pressure and no small amount of antipathy between the two sections. Morale was low: this was truly the quietest, most energy-free creative suite I’ve ever encountered.

When I arrived, all the creatives were facing outward, backs toward one another and facing pristine walls, hunched over their computer screens, headphones on, creating and filing what was being created onto a server for receipt by Executives. The room was dead quiet.

When I left, most of the headphones were off, traffic was high from desk to desk, the walls were quite literally covered in artwork and the noise level was at a far higher pitch than it had been mere weeks previously. Rather than awaiting assignments, the artists were reaching out and asking for specific components in which they were interested…and collaborating!

On my final day, some shed tears at my departure. I think these people had been surprised and exhilarated at the trust that was given them and what was able to be accomplished through that trust and collaboration…some had simply forgotten how good they are at what they do. Now, they are freshly invigorated; feel respect from without and from within.

The crowning moment for me was at lunch the day before departure. One of the longtime Production Managers turned to me and told me what a wonderful pleasure it had been to work with me; that “…we get a lot of consultants in here over the years, Kile, and none of them has ever been like you. You know what makes you different? You LISTEN. It has been clear that you listen first, to everyone who might have input, before you render a decision. That has been fantastic!”

And a more valuable compliment or acknowledgement I can’t imagine receiving. I do listen better, now; better than I have in my entire life. And, I have learned that I can trust my instincts to distill the data and input from myriad minds into the plan or course that best serves the mission or goals. This was huge, this compliment coming from her.

I’d love to return to the Emirates to direct this show we designed and wrote; but, if I never return to Dubai, my time there is complete in objectives met, goals fulfilled, theories proven and methodologies validated and shared. I arrived home with no regrets.

On Saturday, a week ago, I experienced something unexpected and spiritually profound.

To say that afternoon in the AIDS Memorial Grove was transcendent would be an understatement… For four blissful, sunny, breezy hours, Susan Morabito played the happiest music from far happier times, inspiring those who came to flag and dance to abandon inhibition and release themselves to memory and music…even passers-by set down backpack and bicycle to dance among the flowing fabric and even try their hands (and wrists) at flagging. It was a celebratory afternoon - celebrating those who aren't with us, anymore, and celebrating the gradual entry into the light that we, our brothers and sisters, are slowly trusting to embrace…

Every so often, a group of flaggers gathers at the Grove for an afternoon of “Flagging in the Grove” for a charity specified by that day’s DJ. On this day, the charity was the Grove, itself.

Fans and Flagging are a phenomenon that was born in the massive dance clubs of the late ‘70’s and early ‘80’s. I will never, ever forget my first encounter…

Early December of 1979 and my first visit to New York’s “Saint” nightclub; my friends and I entered the cavernous space of the main floor, and I’d never seen anything like the sybaritic elegance of that place. Velour and satin, red everywhere, lighting such as I’d never seen (and this was the lounge, thankyouverymuch) and at the far end…the bar: staffed by stunning men and backed with a towering, multicolored display of fresh fruit (I KNOW!)…

The music was throbbing and thrumming through the ceiling, as the dance floor was one flight up. But that stairway went far more than one floor; it went all the way to another world, another dimension.

This country boy from Klamath Falls Oregon mounted the stairs and entered a world previously unimaginable. The dance floor was a gigantic circle in dark space, roofed by a giant, white dome. In the center of the space hovered a mass of light fixtures, at the core of which was what seemed to be a planetarium projector. That’s what it was!

It was “night” inside; the stars were shining and slowly moving with surreal intensity. The music was rapturous, filling the air with celebratory sound. The sheer freedom I felt, the exhilaration of being able to be there, among all these other gay people, dancing openly, provocatively with one another in sensual celebration of self and of one another. It was truly awesome.

Then, “dawn” began to break…but in 360-degrees. And, as the orange light began to ring the sky and the blackness up above evolved to indigo, lapis, blue…I realized that the source of the flashes I’d been seeing around our perimeter were coming from an informal and stunningly beautiful ring of men with shiny fans in each hand; twirling them acrobatically in ingenious patterns and formations that were hard to follow…but magical.

What a fantastic thing it was to be Gay…I could see my bright and happy future before me.

This was the first of the Fans dancing I’d seen. An art form borne of the culture of clubs and music and dancing and adding to the feast to the senses that these places became. From that evolved the even more poetic and beautiful flagging; huge swaths of silk in brilliant colors spinning in three dimensions almost faster than one can follow; choreographed on the spot to the music as it plays. These things were magical.

These beautiful experiences were born and evolving at the same time as the Virus that then stopped so many of us dead in our tracks; and brought a generation and a movement to its knees. From celebrating ourselves we went, in a few short months, to defending ourselves, protecting ourselves, demanding care and medicine for ourselves… What had begun as a movement of Pride had to become a movement of strife, fear, anger and power.

I think that AIDS gave us the opportunity to form a different, stronger community sooner than might have evolved, otherwise; but the freedom and fun was eradicated from our lives in one, virtual, fell swoop and the spectre of that time will never leave us.

On that Saturday in Golden Gate Park, though; I saw and was reminded of all the good of those times. To stand there among the dancers and the flaggers and the music and the elements of nature and witness the dynamic and the celebration was epiphanic.

In addition to those who were there to be there, scores of people who just happened to walk into the Grove that day found themselves out on the meadow, trying and succeeding at spinning the silk through the sun-sparkling air. Everyone was smiling: everyone.

Two Spanish boys of about 24 or 25 just happened to be riding their bicycles down the path into the Grove on that afternoon. I don’t know whether these guys were gay or straight: either way, neither of them knew into what they were riding…they were simply investigating the music.

But what the music and the color and the Grove did was this…

One of them just dropped his bike, threw off his shirt and called to his friend to join him as he danced onto the meadow. Just danced, no questions asked. As he danced, he watched the flaggers as he moved among them…never having seen anything like that, before.

Someone handed him a flag and he tried it, but could only make it work with two hands…which had absolutely no effect on his enthusiasm; he was ecstatic as he danced.

Then, someone took him aside and gave him a pair of flags, showing him how to do it. Slowly, he tried it….he got it….he spun the silks…faster and faster; no expert, but competent, with the music and making his smile extend to the furthest thread of the cloth.

I, of course, got all emotional as I witnessed this. His happiness, his openness to whatever came his way, the way in which he was nonverbally welcomed into the experience, the outreach, the teaching, the learning, the love...

Some things don’t change…yet everything does.

I leave you with the 70-second clip from my iPhone of what the day was like.

(the resolution on this upload is pretty awful;  it can be played on or downloaded from 

MobileMe Gallery - Justa Flaggin' Minnit and go full screen with good resolution...)

The National AIDS Memorial Grove is an amazing place of remembrance, of meditation and of celebration…I offer that you visit it when you are in San Francisco.

I Certainly Didn't See THIS Comin'...

Last December, in deciding to leave New York and return home to San Francisco, I initiated a process of release and relinquishing of hope and vision that I'd held close for a very long time. In long, wet sessions with my shrink, my physician and my men's group, I came to appreciate that I truly must let go of this thing. 

What stood before me to give up was the idea of what my success needed to look like, for me - where I needed to be to call myself a Success; a goal toward which I'd been working for nearly three decades and never quite achieving.

From every angle I've sought to build a career in what I have seen as the Top Level, and been repeatedly and relentlessly frustrated in that quest. So, I'd step back, re-examine my process, my approach, my own presentation of self, and approach the goal, again; only to find no toe-hold, no welcome, no entry. No work: not at the level I wanted.

With support and help from those around me who love me, I saw that the choice was to step even further back and to simply Let Go of that which hasn't been working for me for so long and turn my eye toward something else. The evolutionary and powerfully affirming success I'd been experiencing at Le Marche d'Pomme was the beacon of change that signaled to me that other possibilities do exist.

Thus: home, again. Looking West to San Francisco and the possibility of building something fulfilling  to me and of value to Le Pomme, I made up my mind to let go of it all and turn to this other thing that I do enjoy so much.

As the realities, the ramifications of this decision of departure began to take shape and I began to appreciate how deeply I'd held some things and, even more so, how tenaciously I'd held on to some of my most aspirational dreams, I experienced painful and profound grief. I hadn't expected to actually grieve; though, it makes sense that losing or letting go of something to which I'd held, tightly, for nearly three decades would open a wound...

Deeper still was the discovery of what it meant to me, emotionally, to actually leave NYC. I came upon some sharp and precious, deeply-held feelings and realized that I hadn't completely released my love for Scott. Intellectually, I had been clear...but emotionally, I could now see - or feel, rather, or fully appreciate - that I hadn't completely let him go. Leaving NYC was the Step of Reality in that process.

Before leaving New York, he and I spent some quiet, conversational time, together. The security I do have is that he remains the steadfast friend he has always been. I believe we have a bond that will not break, and that our friendship will continue to grow and thrive. I hope that I can be as good a friend to him as he has been to me; he has been, and is, eminently count-on-able.

It did hurt, though...

The past five weeks in San Francisco have been somewhat surreal. I've spent time in the Grove* as a volunteer gardener and as spectator for a festival of flagging, I've been a chauffeur for the W Hotel and the Mandarin Oriental (ironic, as I also produced the Grand Opening of that hotel back in the late '80's), I've helped confused computer owners figure out their operating systems and apps; I've applied for job after job after advertised position with nary a response...

Often asked if I'm glad to be back in SF, I can't honestly respond in the affirmative. Not feeling welcomed, I haven't felt unwelcome, either; it doesn't feel great to be there, yet it doesn't feel not great; I don't feel a part of it, and I don't feel separate from it... I knew, intellectually, that it would likely be this way. Visiting home is always a Special Occasion; returning there after 20 years, one is set to discover that the rhythms and relationships have all evolved since departure. Nothin' wrong with it, nothing bad about it; 'tis simply disconcerting to renegotiate a place and a space that was once one's own and is now something else.

What has happened is that I have found myself surrounded by some wonderful and good people: people whom I'd met and with whom I'd been acquainted, but who have reached out, now, and made me welcome in their homes and at their tables...and shared their dogs! 

More profoundly, some of the most powerful support has come from three disparate men with whom I have had a rocky if not downright volatile past. Separate and apart, each of these men have reached out to encourage me to come home, to help me to find the right position, to find a place for me to stay and have repeatedly reached out to check on my state of mind. The fact of this has been a most powerful affirmation and lesson for me...and the words spoken by each of these men in support and bolstering of me have been unasked and unexpected and startlingly revivifying.

Who knew?

So, I've been seeing a few friends, working out, writing and re-writing my CV and exploring possibilities in San Francisco and Silicon Valley while I await word from le Pomme....and wait...and wait... 

Meanwhile, I've had extensive time to spend with myself. A lot of dust has settled; I live each day with no expectation, and just keep going. 

Occasionally, with friends, I've been acknowledged for a courage that I do not see; my sense is that, as long as I'm awake and out of bed (which is difficult enough to accomplish, now and then), I may as well be 100%. That, if for no other reason than to be able to say that I've done all I can do and Life is what it is. 

My life is my own responsibility; it is turning out the way it's turning out due to decisions only I have made; chances I have taken, limbs onto which I've ventured. I blame no one but myself for where I am or am not...and, I don't actually "blame," there is no blame to be levied. It's simply my own making, my own responsibility.

Not blithe about it, I am also not angry. I am simply reticent to hope, careful with expectation, trepidatious with trust and watchful for opportunity. I am willing to allow Life to unfold before me, then choose what seems the right path or option.

Which is an interesting and peaceful place to be...because...things began to happen where I hadn't been looking...

Two weeks ago, Friday, I got an email from Shanghai. Recommended at the highest possible level by a Hero of my (nearly previous) profession, a what turned out to be brilliant person in the UAE wanted to know if I might be available to direct the creative on an exceptional and exceptionally large project. We emailed, spoke on the phone and clicked, emailed again, shook virtual hands and what started with Friday's outreach ended with me on a flight to Dubai, on Tuesday, for a two-week contract.

...which has already been extended well into July...

I am working my butt off in long, creative days and having a blast. It has been a long time since I've been dropped into a situation or added to a team that is so professional, so upbeat, so focused on the project and making it the best it can possibly be that I almost had forgotten how great that feels. Frankly, outside some of the fantastic teams that I've been fortunate enough to put together, myself; I've never seen a team this great.

To be brought-in at this level on something this big has been great; the reception to what I bring to the table has been even greater. Ideas flow and concepts bounce off one another and the process continues apace, while all of us learn from one another as we listen to one another. The respect that each member of this team shows for the others is authentic and genuine, and I'm seeing the results begin to coalesce.

Being on a team of this quality has reassured me of my own value. Each man and woman comes from a hearty background of hard work and success. I, too, have much to share, here; I do know that if we are able to realize the vision we are developing we will make some kickass history.

I don't think it is simply the individuals on this team, though; I think my experience at le Pomme is serving me uniquely well, here. Though I've always been, I believe, an inspirational and motivational leader; I think I listen differently, now. I lead differently, now.

I notice, too, that I'm not in a hurry. When interrupted, I stop and give my full attention to the interruption...sort of allowing the Universe to let me get back to what I was doing when the Universe sees fit to allow it. Meanwhile, what is before me is what I embrace, what I see, what I hear, what I address. 

There are deadlines, but there is such little value in rushing. Be Here Now.

Thus, I AM here, Now. I have no idea where this will lead, what this experience will uncover. I may return to SF in July and find something awaiting me, there; or, I may return here to lead the creative on this project if we win it. I'm sure there will be choices and decisions to make, some of them may be difficult. For now, I'm simply keeping my eyes open, remaining authentic, sharing myself with no investment in the result other than giving my best. 

That's the only way it can work. I have no idea what's next...

Meanwhile, this is one, amazing city...

When I was here in 2003, this was the most interesting building; now, it's surrounded with taller, more fantastical architecture, and what was then desert is now densely-packed skyscrapers...

and, they have TWO Chrysler Buildings...

* The National AIDS Memorial Grove www.aidsmemorial.org

[Re] New [al]

The view from my window, the day before departure…

April 30.

Arose at 5, showered, shaved and put the last things into my suitcases; making the final, Sophie’s Choices as not everything was going to fit…which of these last items could I sacrifice at this final moment? It’s easier to make these decisions at the last minute, when there is no more time for wrestling and practicality prevails.

Decisions made, zippers zipped and locks locked, a final turn of the key in the door and down two flights to the curb.

By a few minutes after 6, I was in a cab for the quiet and peaceful drive through the Saturday Morning gloaming; kept company by my own thoughts, introspective and reflective. This was the physical beginning of not the longest trip I’ve ever taken, but I think probably one of the greatest with respect to import and portent.

I leave a lot, behind, in New York: every thing that brought me there. Ambition and Aspiration, Goals, Standards I had set for myself, plans big and small, a dream or two…a love that I never thought I’d experience, again…

What accompanies me on this successive step is an awareness of what may be possible…and a calm and patient commitment to seeing through whatever unfolds in the City I call my Home.

Since departing San Francisco, twenty-one years ago, I have felt at-home, here, with every visit and have been fortunate to have returned many times in the intervening decades. Now, I arrive to live, again; Home.

I don’t know what this is supposed to feel like, I’ve never returned to a place I’ve left, really. The Debacle in Oz was so clearly a professional mistake from so early-on, and so much remained, awaiting me in New York – unfinished business, unresolved relationships, unappreciated lessons, unrealized opportunities – that going back to NYC was more retreat and reconnoiter than return. These past 18 months have been a maelstrom of enlightenment, realization, completion…

I have encountered circumstance and context both negative and positive with this last round; the lessons gleaned from each of these proving to strengthen and nurture me. Through my experience at Apple, I have learned again to work without ego…tougher, each time one learns and re-learns this, I’d venture. Yet, the almost astonishing result of being fully present, keeping oneself fully authentic, interacting fearlessly, honestly, candidly and with positive intent is a flourishing atmosphere of energy, trust and support.

Leaving Apple SoHo for the San Francisco, I was given a thunderous sendoff by the Team; the cheers and applause still ring in my head. One, wonderful guy stayed after his shift, just to participate in the clap-out. This was something given to me without asking; given to the man who’s been working side-by-side with these young men and women and whom they have come to know solely through daily experience. I am not my history, I am not my story, I am only me: and that was the person to whom they said, “fare well!”

I have 50 new Facebook Friends under 30!

And, now I am in San Francisco. The bright sun sparkles on this City from a cloudless sky. I look out, over this beauty and notice that I am neither excited nor apprehensive; simply open. The music that scores my morning walk down the hill to coffee or gym is a symphony of scurrying critters in the underbrush, the rustle and chirp of hidden birds, underscored by the nearly-silent susurration of the breeze through the evergreens...

'Tis a tad different than Chelsea.

The young man who drove across the Bay Bridge for the first time on April 15, 1979 is still in here, somewhere…evolved into and beyond the man who left in 1990 to play on a larger field. I’ve shown and learned many things on that field; won some battles and lost some wars. Integrity intact, psyche a tad scarred and ragged, heart renewed, thrumming and strong, confidence…well, a little fragile but of a piece…and at peace.

Outreach materializes from myriad, surprising places. Miraculously, some of my strongest support is coming from a few men whom I had misjudged in the past; who now reach out to me with offers of support, with ideas, with encouragement and invitations to new adventures.

So I know that, at least, I am here to regroup. My roots are in this beautiful city, my deepest self feels at home, here, among those who know and accept me…and are perfectly willing to let me know what is unacceptable! 

Love is not a tool, here; it is simply a constant.

I have no idea what is next; what will come of this move home. I could be here, forever; I could be here for less. My expectations are virtually nonexistent. Neither pessimism nor optimism cloud my view as I look forward, ready to embrace and pursue opportunity with each arising. I am at once tentative and hopeful, with feelers out, opportunities sought and nurtured, possibilities everywhere to discern, decide, pursue or pass…

Meanwhile, for the next few weeks, I see this outside my window…

And Duke, greeting me in the mornings…

It could be worse.

Wha'?! Whoa! Not Quite So Fast...!

Who
Knew
I
Had
So
Much
POWER!?

No sooner do I write down that I want to return to San Francisco in the future than the Universe aligns, a CFO is fired, a comfortably risk-bearing surplus is revealed to be a crippling deficit, a board of directors panics, all of my programs for the 50th Anniversary are cancelled or drastically cut back...and I am out of a job, in January.

Ah, I know this road, well.

I suppose I could have been more clear in articulating that I wanted to return to SF with a JOB......and in 2012......but, hey, I appreciate the Responsiveness! 'Tis good to know I can have this effect. Now, to learn to control my powers and be sure to use them only for good...mostly.

I was there nearly a year, long enough to have a positive effect; we managed to get some good films produced and created quite a bump in traffic to the website with initiatives created around our Launch. There was so much time and effort spent, though, laying the groundwork for some pretty fantastic, expansive stuff that, now, will simply never be realized; leaving me to wrestle with myself and my inclination to interpret the futility as a personal failure.

Is this a Male Thing, this perception of Personal Failure? Natural; or only something I do to myself? I skirt that dark, black hole, staying far back to avoid slipping again into that abyss. But, to be candid, I am not feeling the pull from it that I've felt, before. The past three years have shown me my own resilience, and the past several months have actually served more to strengthen my confidence in myself and my work than not.

I think I'll be fine.

Coincidentally, about a month ago, during a visit to the Genius Bar at Apple Soho, my old manager asked if I'd be interested in returning, part-time. At that moment, I jumped at the opportunity to immerse myself again in that culture of articulate integrity, of intelligence and aggressive, open teamwork without the sluggishness, the bureaucracy and paranoia of the iconic non-profit.

I went in to do the paperwork, last week, and it was a virtual love-fest on the floor. "I hear you're coming back; that's fantastic?" "There has been a hole in my heart since you left us..." "Dude! You're gonna be back with us...!" That place was so good for my transitional head, last time; who knows what it will be and where it will lead, now?

I only wish I could support myself in that environment; or that the environments wherein I might support myself were more universally representative of such a positive culture. Ah, well; we shall see where this all leads...

So, I'm looking bi-coastally; here and in SF. The only way I would leave NYC would be with an actual job in SF, and I don't see that happening in the near future. Google is seeking an Executive Producer of their NYC Creative Lab to which I have applied (they really should snap me up!), another local production company wants me to meet the rest of their production team after the first of the year with some creative work in mind, I've put out some feelers to and around both Cities in the few days I had before the Holiday hit.

But, ain't nothin' gonna happen over Christmas; so the CV is re-written, I have a fire in the fireplace in my great Chelsea-adjacent apartment, the gym is three blocks away and I'm using this time to rest and regenerate...and prepare for what the Universe may yet have in store...

Dear Universe:

On this Christmas Day, I'm saying that I want work that makes a difference to people's lives, structures to build that can support those who need support, aid or service, stories to tell that can move and inspire others, experiences to create that can immerse people, connect them to one another and reawaken feelings and memories perhaps thought lost; compelling them to reach out...I want to add value.

and, I wouldn't mind being paid for it.

World AIDS Day Eve - 2010

I made a decision, yesterday evening...

On the eve of World AIDS Day, a beautiful experience was offered at the National AIDS Memorial Grove in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. As the gloaming receded into night, I arrived at the top of The Grove and walked toward the little tent that housed the check-in table. As I approached, one of the greeters put out his hand. Taking it, I said "hello, my name's Kile Oz..." and he said, "KILE OZIER!? It's great to meet you!" Then took me over to table to get my name tag...

This does not happen to me, in New York.

The Grove was magic. As one walked the winding pathway, down through the trees and into the embracing quiet, one passed through beautifully lit, natural architecture of the lush foliage. Along the pathway, flashlight bearing volunteers would quietly greet...smiling gently, completely welcoming and unobtrusive...allowing the Grove to cast its spell...

I felt my pulse grow more quiet as I neared the floor of the glen. Turning toward the Circle of Friends, where Terry's name is engraved in the stone along with hundreds of others lost to this relentless virus, I was immersed in the rediscovery of a place I know already so well. Seeing this in darkness, looking ahead at individuals lighting and placing candles on the names of their loved ones, lost...deep emotions began to flow to the surface.

The quiet was palpable, the whispers of the others were distantly intimate, the scene was almost surreal, magical, loving, moving... I was given my candle, lit it from the flame in the hand of a friend and walked to where Terry's name waited. Placing this glowing tribute to my deeply felt loss at my feet, I looked anew at the names that wound from the tower of crystal and flame at the center of the circle.

I realized that I personally knew most of the men whose names start the circle and initiate the flow of memorial around and around the center...it's a virtual timeline of my own past. Friends with whom I laughed, labored, loved, lurked, launched scores of youthful adventures in this town where we discovered ourselves; not knowing that discovery would steal so many from our midst...

The words of one of my favorite songs came to mind,
"My brother lived in San Francisco
He said he'd finally found his place,
And when I go to San Francisco,
Everywhere I look, I see his face..."

Continuing on through the Grove to the Meadow, past a stone-filled brook flowing with a river of blue light, past sparkling evergreens, glowing movement among the trees, hanging candles and lovingly lit memorials, I arrived at the tent...

This big, completely clear, crystalline, glittering tent that was filled with friends.

One after another, I encountered men and women I have not seen in five, ten, some even fifteen years or more. Other survivors from the trenches of the early years, other fighters of the fight, caregivers, doctors and nurses, friends I've held as they cried, friends who've held me as I've cried...our faces were alight with joy of seeing one another, almost gleeful surprise at recognition and reconnection.

I can't describe the feeling that grew inside me as people would recognize me and exclaim or call-out and we'd grab one another to simply FEEL one another. It has been a very long time since I have felt so welcomed, so much a part of something good and greater, so surrounded by people who know and care...so surrounded by friends...so at home.

People would pass by and just reach out and grab my shoulder and squeeze, or we'd hug one another and hold on for an extra moment, two...really feeling one another and whispering in each other's ears..."how ARE you...? ...it's SO good to see you..." Sotto voce declarations of deeply felt mutual welcome and appreciation.

We've been through the worst of times, together. We've watched our City go from Paradise to Bleak Darkness...and planted seeds of renewal that are coming to fruition only now... Some of us have left and some of us have stayed, but we were all together, last night.

During the program, I just looked around. This City is just big enough to be a City, just small enough that when that scourge came down on us, we were one army, no factions. We who've made it through are seasoned and lined, but the smiles remain...or have returned.

I have history, here. I realized what a part of this City I am, and what a profound part of who I am is due to this city and my experience, here. I realize how much I sense I belong, here in San Francisco.

My work with Amnesty International is scheduled to continue until early 2012. When I am finished; I'm coming home.