[…it seems there’s more to be said about sound and light…]

This is something more about awakenings, about sunrise, about emerging from long nights – apt to be writing it on the way to midnight (still, it’s always sunrise somewhere – Western Australia right now, for example).

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself watching Season 7 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer – again, again. I’d just got it back from a friend I lent it to, and I was compelled to see how it all “ended” again, after talking with her about it.

But then I began again all the way from the very beginning – and I’ve just finished watching Season 6, so I’m back where I started a couple of weeks ago. Except this is the first time I’ve watched it all since I began my gender transition proper, and its significance is very different because of that. Or, well, it ought to be, except it’s more like the reason why I’ve been watching it over and over since 2000 has risen up over the horizon.

I used to think I identified with the vampires-with-souls. I did, of course; they fed beautifully into my “I’m inherently unworthy, but have to be seen to be trying to make up for it all the time” algorithm. Except now, I’m not trying to Save The Girl any more, I am the girl.

And I’m not Willow or Tara, in spite of me being a big dyke – they were both always more girly than I am anyway – and in spite of me having a baobab-sized crush on Alyson Hannigan. And I’m not Buffy, that’s for damn sure, she always used to piss me off (though now I’m getting more that being someone who’s had to kill demons and keep a huge set of secrets since 15 would leave anyone with less social skills than other teens – which, let’s face it, is a low bar anyway).

Anyway, cutting to the chase, I’m Dawn. I’m the girl who wasn’t there, and then suddenly is; who knows both that she’s always been there, but also that she hasn’t until now. Like Buffy tells Dawn at the end, I’m looking forward to seeing the amazing woman I’m going to become. Probably :).

Alborada. It’s Spanish for dawn, sunrise. It’s a title used for music or songs written with a dawn vibe to them. You also get the French Aubade quite often, but I like Alborada because one of my favourite pieces of music as a child was called that. It’s the second movement of the suite Capriccio Español by Rimsky-Korsakov. It’s not like the rest of the suite, which is pretty vigorous – it’s languorous, warm, lush. The whole suite is beautiful, but this… to me, this music evokes two things: the slowly rising sun (over water), and a quality I choose to call Irrepressible.

I did something a few years ago, something that from the point of view of my version of “traditional Buddhism” was unorthodox (though I intuit it was very radical in the proper sense). When I got to the point where I could no longer do my “official practice”, my visualisation, I gave in, I surrendered. I stopped trying to make something happen, I learned to let something happen instead.

And what happened was that I offered an invitation to be visited by the unknown, by the mysterious. Two years ago, the invitation was very properly answered, and I was visited by a goddess (why not call her that). I invited her in, and she invited me out, and the woman sun rose in me, night ended, I woke up. I’m still waking up.

Well, this was weird and pretentious, but it’s late and I’m feeling emotional, forgive me and just listen to this instead.

Alborada – Listen

[…it’s important for me to say: I’m not writing this stuff about the goddess (whatever she is) to impress, or make spiritual claims, gods forbid – I’m writing it because it’s a true description of my experience, and I think it’s good for people to know that stuff like this happens, and that it’s somehow ordinary, if you allow it – and because when I’m facing dark things, it’s good to remind myself of what rose my sun, and that my sun is risen…]


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