Montreal

I had a fantastic time in Montreal—truly one of those trips that leaves you feeling both refreshed and a little wistful when it’s over.

As I always do, I spent some time in the Village, which never disappoints, but I made sure this trip wasn’t only about nightlife. One of my favorite stops was the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, where I saw The Torlonia Collection, a remarkable exhibition of Roman sculpture.

Of all art forms, sculpture has always been the one that speaks to me most, and this exhibit did not disappoint. What fascinated me most was not just the ancient works themselves, but the visible history layered onto them. Many of the sculptures had been damaged over time—arms missing, hands broken, features worn away—and then “repaired” during the Renaissance.

These restorations were not neutral. Renaissance artists interpreted what should have been there, and in doing so, they left their own mark on antiquity. One statue in particular stood out: an athlete whose original form had lost several parts, including an arm, a hand, and his penis. When these were restored, the additions reflected Renaissance ideals more than Roman ones—especially the rather substantial size of the newly added anatomy.

That detail might sound amusing, but it actually reveals something deeper about cultural values. In ancient Greco-Roman art, the ideal male nude was typically depicted with relatively modest proportions. A large penis was often associated with foolishness or lack of restraint, not heroic virtue. Bodies were idealized after gods—balanced, controlled, harmonious. 

By contrast, the Renaissance reinterpretation leaned into a different aesthetic, and the difference was striking—especially when this restored athlete stood beside an intact Roman sculpture. The contrast was immediate and, honestly, a bit jarring once you understood the symbolism behind it.

It was also a reminder of how art is never entirely fixed. Even ancient works continue to be shaped—physically and intellectually—by the cultures that encounter them later.

I’ve visited the museum before, but this exhibition made the trip especially worthwhile. If you ever have the chance to see it, I highly recommend it.

I also stopped by a temporary exhibit on M. C. Escher near Place des Arts. His work is endlessly fascinating—those impossible staircases and mind-bending tessellations never really lose their charm.

That said, I found myself less impressed with the exhibit itself than with the art. The lighting felt off in several areas, and the layout didn’t always serve the pieces as well as it could have. It’s funny—I don’t think I would have noticed these things as much before working in a museum. Once you’ve been involved in installing exhibits yourself, you start to see all the little decisions that shape how visitors experience a space… and when those decisions don’t quite land.

Beyond the museums, I did a little shopping, wandered the city, and simply enjoyed being somewhere that feels vibrant and alive. Montreal has a way of offering just enough of everything—art, culture, nightlife, and quiet moments when you need them.

All in all, it was a wonderful trip. I just hope it won’t be another seven years before I make it back—and next time, I’d like to stay a bit longer than three nights.

Ah, Montreal…

The drive up to Montreal was a pleasant one. Even the Canadian border guard was nice—unexpectedly so (and, I have to admit, very easy on the eyes). In all the times I’ve made this trip, I’ve always found it a bit odd that the Canadian guards tend to be the stern ones while the Americans are usually more relaxed. I suppose I’ll find out on the return trip whether that still holds true. One can hope for consistency… or at least a repeat of yesterday’s good fortune.

But enough about border crossings.

It felt wonderful last night to wander through the Village again and to be reminded what it’s like to be in a real city—energy, movement, people everywhere. It’s something I don’t get nearly enough of, and I’ve missed it more than I realized.

My hotel room also came with an unexpected gift: a beautiful view of the St. Lawrence River. There’s something calming about watching the water, especially in the early morning light.

And speaking of morning—I actually slept in. That alone feels like a luxury, and it’s why this post is a bit later than usual.

Now, it’s time for a proper start to the day: breakfast, a good cup of coffee, and then out to explore more of Montreal.

At Last

Finally, the day has come. I’m leaving for four days in Montreal.

It’s been too long—since 2019—and I’ve missed the city more than I realized. This trip feels like a long-overdue chance to step away, relax, and just enjoy myself for a few days. I’m looking forward to wandering through a few museums, doing a little shopping, and spending some time in The Village. From what I’ve seen, it’s changed a bit since the pandemic, but I’m still excited to revisit some of my favorite spots, maybe check out a few bars, and just have some fun.

More than anything, though, I’m looking forward to something simple: being a visitor.

For once, I won’t be thinking about programming, planning events, or representing the museum. I won’t be teaching, guiding, or organizing anything. I’ll just be another person walking through galleries, taking things in at my own pace, enjoying the experience without responsibility.

That alone feels like a vacation.

The weather is supposed to be sunny and cool—exactly the kind of weather I love—so everything seems perfectly timed. After a busy stretch of work, I’m ready for a few days to breathe, explore, and recharge.

Montreal, here I come.

Road Trip Prep

Why can’t my mechanics look like this?

Two weeks from today, I’ll be packing up my car and heading to Montreal for a few days. I haven’t been since 2019, and I’ve really missed it. There was a time when I made the trip at least once a year, but that hasn’t been the case since COVID, and it feels long overdue.

I usually stay in the Village—or right on the edge of it—which means that’s where I spend most of my time. I’m sure my evenings (and probably my nights) will be spent there again, but during the day, I’m hoping to explore a bit more—visit a few museums, maybe do some shopping, and just enjoy being back in the city.

I know I have a few readers in Montreal, so if you have any “must do” recommendations, let me know. I’d love to hear them. And who knows—maybe we could even arrange a little Closet Professor coffee meetup while I’m there. It’s always been such a pleasure to meet readers in person. On one of my first trips, I met JiEL, which was especially nice.

In the meantime, today is all about getting ready for the trip in a more practical way. I was off work yesterday for my Botox injections for migraines—always a fun time—and I’m using up a few of those “take ‘em or lose ‘em” vacation days before they disappear into the bureaucratic abyss. So I’ve had a little extra time to get things lined up.

This morning, I’ll be spending it at the mechanic getting new tires, an oil change, and my annual state inspection. If my car passes inspection without any surprise add-ons, it will be nothing short of a miracle. I’m convinced no one ever passes a Vermont inspection on the first try. I’m pretty sure they found something the very first time I brought my car in—when I’d only had it for a week.

Part of that may be because I bought the car in New Hampshire—it was several thousand dollars cheaper—but that meant having it inspected here in Vermont, even though it was brand new. The two states have different inspection requirements, which seems a bit ridiculous to me. You’d think something as basic as vehicle safety standards would be consistent across states. But then again, Vermont has always liked doing things its own way. There’s a reason you see those bumper stickers that say, “Keep Vermont Weird.”

I hope you all have a wonderful day.

‘Twas the Day after Christmas

I seem to have survived Christmas in Alabama.

My niece gave me a “World’s Best Guncle” coffee mug—quietly, in private, so no one else saw. She didn’t say anything when she handed it to me, but I had the sense that my sister knew exactly what it was. My sister and brother-in-law fully include her partner in everything, so maybe my family is, slowly, getting better. Then again, who knows—since no one actually talks about it.

It was a somber Christmas in other ways. My great-uncle died early Christmas morning. He was 95, the last of my grandmama’s siblings—the last of that generation. I feel deeply for that branch of my family. His first wife, whom I never knew because she died before I was born, passed away two days before Christmas. His second wife died just a week after Christmas. Losing that generation makes the holidays feel different. They were the ones who held everyone together, the glue that kept us gathering year after year. Now, I rarely see those branches of the family anymore. In some ways, I wish I were staying a few extra days, just to be present with everyone who remains.

Mama’s health is also weighing heavily on me. Her dementia continues to worsen. She’s grown more frail, shuffles when she walks, has tremors, and becomes confused easily. There are still good moments—but when I woke her on Christmas Eve, she looked frightened and didn’t recognize me at first. That moment broke my heart in a way I’m not sure I can fully put into words.

I fly out today around 11 a.m. I won’t get into Burlington until close to midnight, which means—after waiting on baggage—I’ll be lucky to be home by 2 a.m. Two long layovers this year. I always try to keep it to one, but it never quite works out. There are no direct flights from Burlington to Montgomery, so travel days are always long days. Maybe one day I’ll marry a very wealthy man who can fly me straight to Montgomery on a private jet—but until then, this is just part of the deal.

What I’m most looking forward to is getting home to Isabella. I know she’s missed me. She’s been moping around the apartment while I’ve been gone, sleeping mostly in my spot on the bed instead of her usual place at the foot. She’s always incredibly chatty when I first get home, so I’m hoping she doesn’t wake the entire apartment complex loudly complaining about my disappearance while simultaneously being ecstatic that I’ve returned. Knowing her, it will be a bit of both.

For now, I’m grateful to have made it through the holidays, grateful for small signs of love and acceptance, and grateful that—after a very long day of travel—I’ll finally be home. Sometimes, that’s more than enough.

Taxiing Toward Christmas

When this posts, I should be on an airplane—either taxiing down the runway or climbing to cruising altitude (around 35,000 feet, give or take)—on my way to Charlotte, North Carolina. I’ll have a three-and-a-half-hour layover there before continuing on to Montgomery.

Being on one of the first flights out of Burlington should mean we’re on time (knock on wood). But even if we aren’t, I’ve built in plenty of cushion in Charlotte—hopefully enough time to grab breakfast at the airport. A little after noon, I’ll be back in Alabama… God help me.

At least we should be going somewhere nice for lunch. I never quite know what my parents have planned, but since I’ll be getting in right around lunchtime, I’m hopeful. One thing Montgomery does well is food. There are a lot of great places to eat, even if the quality seems to slip just a little more each time I’m there.

Still, three full days with my family should be just fine. Honestly, what I’m most looking forward to is my family seeing how much weight I’ve lost. Knowing my luck, they either won’t notice at all or will assume I’ve lost weight because I’m sick or something equally dramatic. I’m fairly certain it’s noticeable enough.

Last Thursday, I ran into the former president of the university as I was heading out for a dentist appointment. He loves the museum and was on campus for someone’s retirement, wandering around the galleries. He asked how I was doing, and I said, “I’m doing good.” He smiled and replied, “And thin!”

He started asking me about my weight loss, but I couldn’t linger—I was already running late for the dentist. Still, I’ll take it. If he noticed, surely my family will too… right?

However your week is unfolding, I hope it’s a gentle and joyful one. Wishing you all a very merry Christmas week—full of warmth, good food, and moments of peace wherever you find them. 🎄✨

rogeriolourenco · George Gershwin - Rhapsody In Blue

By Another Road

“Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.”

— Matthew 2:2

The story of the Magi is a story about travel—but not the easy kind.

They journey far from home, crossing borders and expectations, following a light only they seem willing to trust. They do not fully know where the road will lead. They only know that something sacred is calling them forward, and that staying where they are is no longer an option.

For many LGBTQ+ Christians, the days leading up to Christmas involve a similar kind of journey. We pack our bags and return to places we know well—homes filled with memory, affection, history, and love—but also with silence. With rules about what can be said, what must be edited, and which parts of ourselves are expected to remain unseen. We love our families, and yet the cost of that love can feel heavy when it requires us to step back into the closet, even temporarily.

The Magi understand something about that cost.

They arrive in Jerusalem first, assuming—reasonably—that a king would be found in a palace. Instead, they encounter confusion, fear, and hostility. Herod is threatened, not curious. What begins as a holy quest is suddenly shadowed by danger. Still, the Magi continue on, guided again by the star, which leads them not to power, but to vulnerability—a child, held by his mother, in an unremarkable house.

Matthew tells us that when they see the child, they are “overwhelmed with joy.” Not because everything is safe or resolved, but because they have found what they were seeking. They kneel. They offer gifts. They honor what is holy, even when it does not look the way the world expects holiness to look.

There is something deeply comforting in what happens next. Warned in a dream, the Magi return home “by another road.” They do not retrace their steps through Herod’s court. They do not place themselves back in harm’s way. Encountering Christ changes not only their destination, but their path.

For those of us traveling home this Christmas—especially to places where our fullness is not yet welcomed—this matters. Faith does not require us to be reckless with our hearts. Love does not demand that we erase ourselves entirely. Even Jesus later tells his followers to be wise as serpents and gentle as doves. There is holiness in discernment.

The Christmas story reminds us that God is present not only in moments of joyful arrival, but also in the quiet strength it takes to endure difficult visits with grace. The child the Magi worship is Emmanuel—God with us—not only in affirming spaces, but in living rooms where words are chosen carefully, and truths are held gently, sometimes painfully, in reserve.

If this season requires you to navigate family dynamics that are loving yet limiting, know this: your journey matters. Your star still shines. You are not betraying God by surviving with wisdom, nor are you failing in faith by protecting yourself. The Magi teach us that sometimes devotion looks like perseverance—and sometimes it looks like choosing a safer road home.

As you travel this Christmas, may you be guided by the quiet assurance that Christ meets you on every part of the journey. May you carry within you the knowledge that you are already seen, already known, already beloved—no matter how much or how little you are able to say aloud.

And when the time comes to return, may you do so changed, strengthened, and still following the light.

The Oxford Trinity Choir · We Three Kings

Broadening the Mind

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”

—Mark Twain

The above quote by Mark Twain emphasizes the transformative power of travel in broadening one’s perspective and combating ignorance, prejudice, and narrow-mindedness. Travel exposes people to different cultures, customs, and ways of thinking, which challenges preconceived notions, stereotypes, and biases. It fosters empathy and understanding by showing the diversity and complexity of human experiences.

Twain acknowledges that many individuals remain confined to their limited worldviews because they have not had the opportunity—or the inclination—to step outside their familiar surroundings. He suggests that travel could help these individuals overcome their prejudices. By encountering different perspectives and lifestyles, travelers develop a more inclusive, kind, and generous attitude toward others. This openness leads to a deeper appreciation of humanity’s shared values and differences.

Remaining in a single place or within a single worldview limits personal growth and understanding. Twain suggests that staying in a “bubble” leads to stagnation, whereas exploration brings enlightenment and growth. In essence, Twain is advocating for travel as a means to expand one’s mind, challenge ignorance, and promote a more compassionate and inclusive outlook on life.

I have not had much of a chance to travel recently because I am not counting going back to Alabama for the holidays or traveling to conferences for work. I would love to get away and spend a few days in Montreal or go on another gay retreat like the one I went to a few years ago at Easton Mountain. When the weather gets warmer, I would love to visit Ogunquit, Maine, or Provincetown, Massachusetts, both towns known for LGBTQ+ tourists, with numerous LGBTQ+-owned and -operated hotels, restaurants, and bars. I haven’t taken a gay themed vacation in a while and would love for the chance to do so. Of course, I wish I could take a trip to Europe, but I definitely can’t afford to cross the Atlantic, but a boy can dream.


I have not posted an Isabella picture of the week in a couple of weeks, so here you go:

Moment of Zen: Home​ward Bound

Really, this is the most important reason that I’m ready to be back home:

Going Home Tomorrow

I’m thankful I got to spend time with family, if only because I can tell how bad my mother’s dementia is getting. I want to be able to see her while she’s still doing relatively good, even though I can see the decline. We watched as her father slipped into dementia and that was hard enough, but this is my mama. She may have her faults, but no matter what, she’s still the woman who gave birth to me.

My father has actually been on good behavior. I still have another day to go here, so hopefully I’m not jinxing it, but he hasn’t started an argument with me over some perceived slight, which is usually what he does. If I can make it one more day, then I’ll be on my way home. 

I’ll fly back to Vermont tomorrow afternoon. I’m ready to be back home with Isabella and sleeping in my own bed. I have a two hour layover in Atlanta and should arrive back in Vermont just before midnight, as long as there are no unforeseen delays. As it is, the trip back will put me getting home at about 1am Sunday morning. Tomorrow will be a long day, but I least I should be home at the end of it.

Going Home

I’m about to start getting ready for my day. I have conference stuff this morning including a field trip to a museum, then we will hit the road to head home. I can’t wait to see Isabella. She’ll probably spend the first hour telling me how displeased she was that I was gone and how happy she is that I am back. She’ll demand attention and lots of petting. I can’t wait. I love that little girl. It’s going to be a long day. It’s been a long week with a lot of disappointment, but the week is almost over. I’ll be back home soon, but for now, I need to take a shower and get ready for my day.

Even with the disappointment I know we have all felt this week, try and have a wonderful weekend! I’m taking a friend car shopping tomorrow, and it will be so nice spending the day with her.

Travel Week

I’ll be at the museum today. I have to go to the dentist first to get a permanent crown to replace the temporary crown that I got a few weeks ago. After that, I will be at the museum. I have a few meetings and a few things to wrap up before I am out of the office for the rest of the week. I leave tomorrow for a museum conference in Newport, Rhode Island. I’m looking forward to this conference because I have always wanted to go to Newport. The city is most known for its Gilded Age mansions built by many of the nation's wealthiest families as summer “cottages.” Newport is described in Edith Wharton’s novel The Age of Innocence, was featured often in the A&E Network television show America’s Castles, and most recently a summer vacation setting in the HBO series The Gilded Age. I will have tomorrow afternoon to explore the city before the conference officially begins on Wednesday. I already bought tickets to see The Breakers, a Renaissance Revival mansion, and Marble House, a Beaux Arts mansion, which were both built by the Vanderbilt family. As part of the conference, I will also be visiting a couple of museums in the area and listening to a lot of presentations.

By the way, if you are wondering, I have a neighbor coming to check on Isabella, and I have some cameras set up so I can check in on her. My neighbor checks on her food, makes sure her self-cleaning litter box is not stuck, and plays with her a little bit. I don’t have him feed her the wet food she likes because she won’t eat it if anyone besides me feeds her. I’m not sure why she is so finicky about who feeds her, but it’s a waste of the wet food to try to feed her. She’ll get wet food and lots of love when I get home. She doesn’t like being by herself and is always very happy to see me when I get home. I wish I could take her with me, but that’s not feasible. She’ll be fine, and I can check on her to make sure everything is okay.

* * * * *

Also, please go vote BLUE tomorrow if you haven’t voted already. I cast my ballot last week since I would not be here to vote tomorrow in person. Even if you are in a state where the result is a foregone conclusion Kamala Harris needs every vote she can get. She not only needs to win the Electoral College but also enough individual votes to provide definitive proof that she won. Trump will declare victory regardless, but the proof needs to be indisputable. We cannot let a wannabe fascist back in the White House. It’s also not enough to just vote BLUE for president, but we need to win majorities in both houses of Congress.

Flooding

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of major flooding in Vermont. Also yesterday, the remnants of Hurricane Beryl came through Vermont, and we are once again dealing with widespread flooding. For the most part, it doesn’t seem as bad as last year; however, in the small town where I live has three bridges washed out. Last year, my town was lucky and did not have the flood damage seen in much of the state, but all roads leading out of town were closed for several days due to flooding.

According to the local news and the Vermont Department of Transportation, my usual route to work is closed this morning due to “multiple washouts.” I have an alternate route that is currently not closed (as far as I know) though it was closed last year due to flooding. So, it looks like I’ll be able to get to work. Rest assured, I will be careful, and I will not drive through water over the road way. If it looks sketchy, I will not risk it. 

It’s amazing that exactly one year later, we are experiencing some of the same flooding as before. Anyone who does not believe in global warming and its impact needs only to look at places like Vermont. Floods used to be rare in Vermont, now they are yearly. Hurricanes and their remnants rarely reach Vermont, yet we’ve seen major flooding numerous times over the past year alone. July and December of last year and July again this year saw major flooding in areas of Vermont.

This Weather Sucks!

I am packing this morning for my trip. I’d have liked to have packed last night, but circumstances prevented it. With the wet heavy snow we have gotten in the last 36 hours (more than a foot of snow), I lost power at my apartment. I have emergency lamps to use and some candles, but I had hoped the electricity would be back on by this morning. It’s been out for nearly 24 hours, and there no estimated time for repairs. I have to go pick up my rental car between 10:30 and 11 am (the university requires we use rental cars for longer trips), so I’ll get packed and head out in a bit. I hate leaving Isabella here without electricity, but a neighbor will check in her, and I’ll be sure she has plenty of food and water. I’ll be back on Sunday. Surely, we will have power by then. I hope we have electricity back before I have to leave. Nothing is going as planned.

Heading Home

I’m so glad that I’ll be going back home today. I’ve enjoyed this conference (except for the one session yesterday in which I found the woman incredibly insulting). I like getting together with people I don’t get to see often, meeting new people, making new connections, and visiting a place I’ve never been before. I enjoy learning new techniques and strategies to better do my job. Yet, I’m still ready to be home. 

I usually enjoy staying in hotel rooms, and while this one was mostly fine, I’ve stayed in better and more comfortable hotels. So, I’m ready to see Isabella, sleep in my own bed, and enjoy the comfort of my own home. It will be a long day today. I have sessions all morning, a luncheon to attend this afternoon, and a 3+ hour drive home. I’m sure I’ll be exhausted when I get home, but at least I’ll be home.

Now, I smell the bacon cooking downstairs. I can’t believe that on the 7th floor I can still smell the bacon cooking all the way up here, but then I have a very sensitive nose. That being said, I’m hungry, so I plan to shower and get ready for the day, then head down for breakfast.

Not Sleeping In

I’m in Portland, Maine, this week. You would think that without Isabella, I might be able to sleep in a bit, but no, my body is so used to waking up between 4 am and 5 am that I still woke at the same time (I may take a “nap” before I go down to meet my colleague for breakfast.

This is my first time in Maine. I’ve been to all of the other New England states, except Maine, so I can now cross that off my list. My colleague had to be in Kennebunkport yesterday afternoon, so I dropped her off and drove into Portland to familiarize myself with where our hotel is and have lunch. I had some really good Thai food. There are a surprising number of Thai restaurants in this city.

I decided that I’d go back to Kennebunkport to wait for my colleague to finish her event. I’d planned to visit a few museums, but yesterday was Election Day and the one museum that was open is next to the town hall, so there was no convenient parking. I decided that while here, I’d drive to the beach. There were signs everywhere for “Beaches,” so that’s what I did. I’ll be honest, East Coast beaches are not that beautiful when compared to the beaches along the Gulf of Mexico where I grew up going to the beach. However, while it may not have been sugar white beaches, it was nice. I enjoyed smelling the salt air and hearing the crashing of the waves.

Parsons Beach, Maine

Quick Trip

I have to make a quick trip down to Boston and back today. It’s a three hour drive down there. I have a meeting to attend, then I’ll be driving back. I may stay and have dinner just to try and avoid Friday rush hour traffic out of Boston. It’s supposed to be a beautiful, sunny day for a drive. I much prefer driving on sunny weather than in rain. With a sunny day also comes heat. It’s supposed to be 90 degrees in Boston today, whereas here in Vermont, it’s supposed to be 83 degrees. No matter what, it’s going to be hot, and it’s going to feel hotter because of the humidity. Weather, travel time, etc…I hope this will be a productive meeting. 

Summer Splash

If you are a regular reader, then you know that I grew up in rural Alabama in a very religious family. When I was growing up, I didn't know any gay people, and being gay was an abstract concept. I knew that being gay meant that it referred to men who liked other men in a sexual way. I also knew it was very bad. I had been called faggot, gay, sissy, etc., all my years growing up. I knew I didn't belong or fit into that world. I was different, but it would take many years before I could let myself realize that I was, in fact, gay. It took longer to come to terms with accepting who I was. But while I never belonged in the straight world, I never felt like I belonged in the gay world either. Honestly, I never felt I was accepted in either.

I have tried since I moved to Vermont to step out of my comfort zone and become part of the gay community here, but I still feel like I never fit in. I wasn't in great shape; I was shy; and, let's face it, I was awkward. I tried to venture more into the gay community here and there, but I just never seemed to be comfortable enough to succeed, and it wasn't like anyone was trying to help. I've never had gay friends other than a few guys that I dated and friends I met through this blog. So, when I came across information about a gay retreat center called Easton Mountain, just a few hours away in Greenwich, NY, I was interested in knowing more. Their website says their programs promote connection, personal growth, fun, and community. Eventually, I got up the nerve to book one of their retreats: "Summer Splash: Move Into Your Primal Self."

I'd never done anything like this before. I had gone to gay events and bars by myself, but never a retreat like this. Things have been a little rough lately. There are some issues at work and some personal issues. I needed a break. I needed a retreat away from my life. So, I decided, "what the hell" I'll try something that will push my boundaries and help me step out of my comfort zone. From the description of this weekend, not to mention the affordability as a first-timer (they have a special newbie rate), I decided this one was the one. I was going to take the plunge and go with the flow and see what happens.

When I arrived at Easton Mountain on Thursday, I was nervous but determined to make the most of my little vacation. I was ready to step out of my comfort zone, but when I got there, checked in, and began meeting people, I realized I could not step out of my comfort zone. I was in my comfort zone at Easton Mountain. That's not to say I did things that I would not have been comfortable with the day before, but the community there made me feel safe and included. There was no judgment, just a welcoming attitude from everyone (if there was any judgment, people kept it to themselves and didn't let it show). Each person there, whether staff or visitors like me, made me feel like part of a community. Everyone was welcoming and accepting.

The activities over the weekend were great, and each one put you more and more at ease. Everything was optional (even clothing, LOL). We weren't forced to participate in any of the workshops or events. I did opt out of a few things, particularly morning yoga. I did yoga on the first morning and realized it was not for me. Mostly though, I participated in as much as I could, even though I might have thought something was a bit silly when I first read about it, but I never really felt silly, and if I did, it was because we were meant to feel silly. There was a camaraderie among gay men at Easton that I'd never experienced anywhere else. I think we all know what it's like to go to a gay event, a drag show, a celebration, whatever, and there were little cliques, and if you were not in that clique, you probably never would be. The gay community can be very exclusive at times. Easton, though, was very different. I've never felt anything that was so inclusive.

And the icing on the cake was that the food was phenomenal, and the dinner conversations were great. It did not matter who I sat with, we were going to laugh and chat and have a good time eating our delicious meals. If you ever go, I really hope they do the barbecue rib dinner. It was so good, and the homemade barbecue sauce was exceptional.

If you ever want to experience something like this, I would really recommend Easton Mountain. There is an instant feeling of community there. As everyone was leaving, people went around and hugged everyone they met. When I told staff members goodbye, they all hugged me and said they hoped I'd come back. At any other place, I would think they just wanted the repeat business, but with Easton, it really seemed like they really want you to come. When you go to an Easton Mountain event, you become part of the Easton Mountain family, and for me, I can't wait to go back. Will I go back? I'm not sure. I want to, but at this point in my financial life, I'm not sure I will be able to. With that being said, the prices are very reasonable. Where else are you going to find a vacation where food, lodging, and such a welcoming environment for basically $200 a day. I certainly can't go to Montreal for that or basically anywhere else. But, like a lot of people, money is tight at the moment.

Honestly, as I was driving away, I had tears in my eyes. I wish I never had to leave, but it's back to the real world today. I really do hope I get back to Easton sooner rather than later. I can't recommend it enough. Don't expect 5-star resort accommodations, but expect good food, good friends, and comfortable accommodations. I really don't think you'd be disappointed. Maybe I will see you there sometime.

Easton Mountain gets ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️  from me.

Primal Nature

The need for connection and community is primal, as fundamental as the need for air, water, and food.

—Dean Ornish

 

I’m leaving on my retreat today. I thought this quote was somewhat apropos for the type of retreat I am going to. The retreat is designed to disconnect from social norms and reconnect with nature. We will be engaging in workshops like art, body movement, and photography, as well as rituals, trance dance, and fire ceremony. I really need this getaway, and I am going to make the most of it.

Weekend Retreat

I have realized that I need to get away. I have not taken a vacation just for me in nearly four years, i.e., before the pandemic. I have had so much on my mind recently, and it has not been good for me. I am thinking of going to a gay men’s retreat for a weekend in June. Have any of you ever visited Easton Mountain Retreat in Greenwich, NY? If you have, let me know what you think. It is described as:

Easton Mountain is a community, retreat center, and sanctuary created by gay men as a gift to the world. Through workshops, programs, and events, we provide opportunities to celebrate, heal, transform, and integrate body, mind, and spirit. We offer our land, rich in beauty and wisdom, as a home to a community that extends beyond the land. We are a worldwide fellowship of people enriched by our connection to Easton Mountain. This fellowship is a force for positive change in the world. Read More

Their Summer Splash Weekend is billed as a weekend to “get out of your mind.” Here is an excerpt from the description: “This weekend, we invite you to come to Easton Mountain to get out of your mind, to stop using your brain’s logic, forget about social standards and stop using words to try to understand the beauty of being a human and explore the primal self.” Honestly, this sounds like something I desperately need right now.

 

Although I know myself well enough to realize I will be nervous going to something like this and knowing no one else there, maybe, that is exactly what I need. The whole thing sounds fun and liberating. I need to get out of my head. One of the workshops is “The Liberating Power of Pride,” a reflective discussion focusing on what pride means, what it means to liberate ourselves from heteronormativity, and discover who we are as gay men in the world today. As someone who took a long time to be comfortable in my own skin as a gay man, and something I still struggle with, maybe this will be a bit therapeutic.

 

I need to learn to be more confident as a gay man. I worry too much about what others think of me or if I am going to accidentally offend or annoy someone. I do not expect a weekend gay men’s retreat is going to give me the self-esteem I need or to make me comfortable in my own body and show the world my true self. All of that takes much longer than three days. I have been working on it all my life, and I don’t think we ever fully reach it since we will always be our own worst enemies.

 

Furthermore, where else am I going to get an all-inclusive weekend away for just a few hundred bucks. I’d love to go up to Montreal, but that gets expensive, as is any number of other possibilities around here. What I know, though, is that I need to do something for myself. I spend too much time worrying about things that are beyond my control, feeling guilty for things that I either did not do or couldn’t do anything about.

 

So, if anyone has ever been to one of the weekend retreats at Easton Mountain, please let me know what you thought.