Category Archives: Book

Home Is Where The Heart Is

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Last weekend, I visited the town I grew up in. It’s an idyllic place as you can see. Well, the old part of town is. The surrounding suburbs, on the other hand, are rather drab and depressing. Over the years, I am amazed to find I am never homesick. I miss nothing about this place, this community. Even though I made good memories here as well, they do not connect me with the geographical location, but rather with the people. And the two people who were most important to me – my grandma and my dad – are no longer there.

It’s amazing how this little town of 40’000 souls hasn’t changed at all during the last 25 years. All buildings and shops are still where they always were. The atmosphere is the same, the scents, the air, and the gossiping ladies who populate the benches and give all outsiders a thorough once-over. Even the plants in the park seem to be at precisely the same spot, in exactly the same size, sporting the same array of colors.

I only stayed one day, yet, like being caught in a vise, with every passing hour invisible walls seemed to steadily close in around me. When I was able to drive away in the evening, I breathed a deep sigh of relief, heading onwards, singing along with John Denver playing on the radio while passing through meandering valleys, wine yards, and forests, dreaming of wide open spaces, change, and new horizons.

Blast from the Past

2007 dave and liam

Ahhh, this was 2007. I just received this picture a few days ago from my good friend Valerie, whose birthday we were celebrating that day. What a wonderful blast from the past. We all lived together on Kuredu Island in the Maldives, spending most of our time in the Indian Ocean either guiding or teaching scuba divers. I learned a lot then. About living closely together with a whole bunch of other people and accepting them just as they are… about life… about staying calm in emergencies… about enjoying the moment… about being there for each other no matter what… and about every little critter underneath those turquoise waves. These are friends and life lessons I will cherish forever.

A Couch With A View

cat and view and computer

Since beginning of this year, I’ve taken a sabbatical from writing the first draft of my second book. Life changes have kept me busy and, at the same time, have served to clear my head regarding how I want to go about writing this collection of tales.
I am now back on my couch with a view. Thankfully it’s cold and grey outside, so staying indoors in a cozy and warm apartment, surrounded by purring cats, music on shuffle, hammering away at my keyboard, seems like the best option anyhow!

No Stereotypical Male

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“I myself had fallen prey to stereotype some years earlier by adopting a swagger and hiding my curves beneath voluminous sweaters. Now, talking with other transgender people, I learned more about who I had become since then.
I had no intention of becoming a stereotypical male. Rather, why not become my own species? I was not going to be a victim, but would be who I was born to be. I would not think of the years I had lost, for nothing is ever lost. I didn’t want to have regrets or doubts.
In essence, it was important to me to be perceived as a man. It felt like the true foundation of my personality, as well as part of my true soul. Continuing on as a female-bodied person would never be an option. However, I valued my years spent in a female body. Life had been hard, had even seemed close to unlivable at times, but it had been my life. The body I found myself in had shaped this life inevitably. It had influenced my perceptions, my actions, and my reactions to the world around me.” (Excerpt from Paralian, Chapter 10, “River Limmat”)

Always on Edge

1996 liam in seebach 2

It’s easy to blame feeling lost, torn, and confused on one particular part of our lives. Over the years, I could have blamed it on being orphaned, adopted, having a neurotic mother, being bullied at school, being transgender, being rejected by my birth mother, betrayed by my girlfriend, etc. etc. The older I get, however, I realize, at least in my case, feeling on edge seems to be a permanent part of who I am. My mind is always working on scenarios and options. Always trying to make sense of everything inside of me as well as around me. Always trying to understand the deeper motives of everyone, including myself. Observing. Processing. Learning. More often than not, I just get the equivalent of a muscle ache up there in my strained brain and end up feeling totally uprooted, not sure of anything anymore. This photo was taken in 1996, one year before I had gender confirmation surgery to adjust my body to the male soul which had always inhabited it. I felt lost back then, too. And sure of myself at the same time. Crazily enough it seems to always be both. Now, 21 years later, after countless further life challenges I feel happy being me. But still, it doesn’t take much to make me worry, doubt, begin to feel insecure. Even though most days I realize I have found happiness already, many times over. I have found love, I have stretched the limits, and I still have enough fight and adventure left in me to sustain me for a few more rounds in this boxing ring of life. Yet, even with an abundance of profound life experiences, I often feel as if I am still a teenager trying to find his way. I don’t fully understand what it is I am actually looking for. I’m afraid to trust in what I have. I am eager to move on towards new beginnings and, at the same time, I am terrified of them.

Happy New Year!

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Last night, as I was standing at the stove, preparing a yummy and massively rich cheese fondue for my dad, I suddenly felt an intense prickling in my neck. As an avid reader of thrillers I couldn’t help but recognize the feeling: I was being watched. Turning around slowly, I discovered these two. They were obviously trying to hypnotize me into giving them some fondue, too.
Happy New Year everyone! I hope you got to spend the evening with some of your loved ones! And I wish you much strength and joy for 2018. May it be your best one yet xoxo

Which Way To Go…

liam holding pup

I’d love to hear your honest opinion:
While writing the first draft of my second book, it’s becoming clear that I need to make a decision whether it should include me as a character or not.
As you might know already, the book will be a collection of stories about the animal companions I’ve shared my life with and how they have inspired me and helped me grow as a human being.
It will focus on moments when these animals and I forged a special bond, when each of them taught me something… about them, about life and, in turn, about myself.
At the moment, I am not quite sure how to proceed with the overall concept. See, because the animal stories are connected to my life I am not sure if I should tie in my being transgender or not. In a way it has no real relevance to my friendship and experiences with these animals. But of course first a little girl is together with those animals and over the course of time she turns out to actually be a boy. As the years pass and other animals come into my life, we go from “she” to “he”.
Somehow it wouldn’t be quite truthful to refer to myself as “he” as a little kid when I didn’t yet consciously comprehend who I truly was.

I feel there are two ways of writing this book:
1) If I don’t want being transgender to become a theme in this book at all, I need to create a fictional character, just any kid who grows up with those animals and learns from them. Then it’ll be rather fiction than non-fiction.
2) I leave it as a book telling the story of my animals and me. The book will focus on the animal characters of course. But it will then be a semi-autobiographical piece as well. And it will be necessary to somehow gently add being transgender… (or will it?) … to be as authentic as possible.

I am totally torn, because I don’t want to be stereotyped in the future or even now as a “transgender author”. But I am also aware I have powerful things to say that can potentially make a difference. I have a unique view of the world which maybe I should simply own up to. Then again I’ve always seen myself as “not just transgender”, but as a human being who is the sum of his experiences. All my life I’ve fought stereotypes and felt that it is mostly our obsession with labelling other people and ourselves that creates the most trouble for humanity and prevents inclusion.

So what to do? Any thoughts dear friends and readers? I won’t hold you to it. I could just really do with some honest input and gut feelings from people who can still see the wood for the trees.
Thanks in advance for sharing your thoughts with me either here in open discussion or in a PM! xoxo