The Right to Bear Arms

It went thirty minutes too long. Two hours into the conversation, my presence was still full. Moments after that mark, I could feel the signs I was done. That edge of anxiousness, pressing thoughts of what lies ahead, the sense of time returning impatiently…I fidgeted and slowly began to wrap up the conversation by explaining what obligations held me. I gathered our mugs of coffee and tea and began to walk up to my home, while he followed behind, still sharing soulful comments. But I was full. I asked for the quote I needed for his weekly service. My brain now waffling between the enormity of what we had shared and the practicality of finding someone who could help me manage the chemical warfare with the pool.

This man came to evaluate the pool work needed, share his skill and value, and even teach me about how I could partake. But the conversation didn’t even begin there. Somehow it immediately segued into topics of manifest destiny, transcendence, psychotropic drug use, and quantum physics. I discovered he was a self professed redneck from the south, who after a life-altering event, then years of self-destruction, found his path and journeyed toward self-work and awareness.

I listened, mostly. Connected where I felt we shared a viewpoint. But mostly just held a space for this pool water chemist to just be himself. Flawed, broken, discovered, aware. Yes. A conversation like that can take well over two hours. I gave what I could and then had to retreat home. He gave me his quote which reflected his worth, we hugged goodbye, and I will likely never see him again.

After he left, my daughter helped me name my exhaustion. The man had felt disarmed in the presence of our home. Whether the mountain air, the majestic trees, the yearning goat, the numerous dogs, or the attentive ear, he put down his armor and stood defenseless in his truth, messy, twisted, and even guided. Because nothing threatened his honesty, he showed his full humanity-not even upholding the gendered roles of masculinity. Figuratively, he let it all hang out.

I believe some people are willing to do that. It isn’t always safe to release the roles that define us. We often need them to dictate our path or help explain our societal space. But our world is changing. I see it so vividly in my girls. They are in the paradigm shift of not subscribing to identifiers. It is fascinating to witness the openness of how people can show up, when they feel courageous enough to do so. Bare and exposed, not clinging to societal roles but instead holding their experiences and scars and discoveries as what has created the bare person.

The quote was too high. And today or tomorrow I will call and say that I won’t need his service but that I was honored to be with him in our brief intersection of time and space as he really was. And it taught me too, to honor being that armor holder, who allows the shields to come down and weapons to drop. In that moment, you stand guard to create safety so one can be defenseless and fearless.

We all have the right to keep our roles. It helps us move through life in its day to day existence and expectations. But some of us need to find a place to put down the armor…a room, with a pet, on a trail, with a soul…where we can stand with our arms at our side and our heart wide open.