The Dyke Whisperer

I was teaching my first college course on September 11, 2001. It was the first full week of class and a warm, bright Tuesday morning where I was.

I was scheduled to teach early that afternoon. I remember being surprised that classes weren’t canceled considering the circumstances.

One young woman in class was frantic: her father was in NYC, and she couldn’t contact him. The students, all seniors due to graduate either in December or the following May, looked stunned and confused.

I dismissed them, but many didn’t leave the classroom. We sat around and speculated, asked questions of one another. I really didn’t have any answers for them.

As we mark the anniversary of this human tragedy and criminal act, we should reflect upon the short time we get to play on this planet and the suddenness with which life can end.

“9/11″ is not just about mythology and flags. Rather, it should serve as a reminder that we should make the most of our opportunities and freedoms in a world rife with senseless violence, avarice, and misfortune.

Make connections. Make a difference. Create a legacy.

A young friend was upset the other day. When I inquired why, she said that her great-grandfather was in the hospital. As she teared up and her voice broke, she explained that she had never experienced the death of a family member.

I told her then what I wish someone would have told me — directly — when I was her age:

Go tell him you love him and that you’ll miss him when the day comes for him to go. Tell him you’ll always remember all of his stories. Laugh with him while he’s here and hug his neck. If he’s laid up in the hospital, bring him pictures that will cheer him up. Depending on his condition, bring him his favorite foods and snacks. Walk his dog if he has one.

In other words, take advantage of the warning because, sometimes, we don’t get warnings.

Respect and protect the older people in your life who have loved you. Never make them feel like a burden.

The prevailing culture isn’t ours. We can change it; we can make it better. We are nurturers and warriors.

The weekend seems far away on a hectic and trying Wednesday afternoon. After some good news, a good deal, and good conversation with an old friend who’s stuck on a highway in Kansas City, it doesn’t seem so far away now on a Wednesday evening..

Life is contrast: intense heat and a summer rain, light and shadows, silence and song, dust and mountains. For every asshole you encounter, there’s a friend waiting to help.

The shit we endure socially and professionally we do so with honor and dignity, realizing that the generations that follow us won’t have to fight as hard. It’s up to us: women as nurturers; women as warriors. Life is contrast.

I’m currently going through some older questions and will resume the question/answer format soon. Until then, please indulge me …

There’s these pills available at health-food retailers, maybe certain grocery stores, called “Stress Defy.” A kind, but often misguided, shopkeeper gave them to me. He knows I’ve been under some stress recently. Who hasn’t been?

It was an option, I guess. I have no idea how effective these pills are. I tell you, though, last night I sat at a wooden patio table and laughed my ass off for the better part of nine hours. We were silly. And I needed silly.

The mere presence of these pills on the table evolved into a running joke.

Sometimes, we just need to laugh.

It’s Labor Day in the US. That means we should be enjoying our Monday. So, I’m going to post a heart-warming link and enjoy Gay Night at the beer joint across the street. Yes, I realize it’s still afternoon here, but I need to gather my thoughts and smooth lines.

Speaking of True Love: http://www.texasmonthly.com/2009-09-01/letterfromsanangelo-1.php

True Love trumps the notion of a Relationship Lifecycle, renewing itself continuously and vigorously. There’s no beginning — it’s like you were always together and just hadn’t met until a certain wonderful day. There’s no end — it’s like the night sky at the end of a perfect September afternoon.

Yes, it’s a cliche … but it’s like being home, and there’s no lifecycle regarding the warmth and comfort of home.

It’s a tired analogy: when two people meet and there’s a connection, they begin to dance. The rhythm, the pace, the complexity, the intensity are mutually determined, or the dance is awkward. If one wants to foxtrot while the other tangos, it just won’t work.

When we can sync our moves, when it’s natural and right, when we have communion, then we begin our relationships.

As relationships end, there is a dance as well. Fighting is a dance. Hurting is a dance. If you identify this deliberate attempt at inflicting emotional pain, just stop dancing. Stop.

One person cannot fight with another unless the other is willing. Don’t verbally punch back. Put your words in your pocket and keep them there. Walk away.

And, if you do want to fight, ask yourself: “Is it worth it?” For the sake of all the good times, all the beautiful dancing, is it worth it?”

Either way, stop. If the dance isn’t fun anymore, if the rhythm is gone, if the music has soured, stop dancing. There are other partners, other soundtracks, and new beginnings.

Some relationships have a definite lifecycle: they emerge, grow, mature, decline, and die. Sometimes, it’s not about good people and bad people. Sometimes, it’s about personalities and incompatibilities.

I have found — through personal experience and observation — that the key to forming close friendship bonds with exes is the timing of the break-up. If the break-up occurs during the “Decline” phase, a friendship is possible; however, if the break-up comes at the “Death” phase, there’s just nothing left.

It takes a world of maturity and foresight to see the end before the end arrives, to know when to abandon the romantic aspect of the relationship. I think our tendency is to work at it, fight for it. But, the more effort we put into sustaining a dying relationship, the less we have to forge the friendship that would greatly benefit both parties.

Resentment takes hold as we start to change who we are to accommodate someone. “Love,” here, is really familiarity and the fear of the unknown. This sort of false-love is a phantom, leaving us cold at night.

We cling to memories and shared events, to mementos, anecdotes, photos, and songs. We cling to these artifacts because we know we can no longer cling to our partner/lover. Here, with apologies to Plato, the idea of love is more real than the actual emotion. And, we die a little.

I’ve learned that each day, each hour that we cling to the apparition of past-love with a current lover we rob ourselves of an opportunity to find the real thing. It’s like endlessly panning for Fool’s Gold. It’s shiny but worthless — and we’re never able to successfully convince ourselves that it, in any way, approximates the precious metal we seek. So, we die a little.

So, quit dying. Open your eyes. When it’s over, it’s over. Be gracious, be kind, be realistic.

We’re only here for a little while. The search for love is infinitely more important than sustaining false hopes and fools’ dreams.

It’s been a while. Changes. Transformations. Comprehension. Acceptance. Renewal.

I never quit going to school so every September brings to me a sense of rejuvenation and promise. It’s my New Year’s Day today. January 1st is so cliche.

Love and loss. Lost and found. Alive and well.

It’s no time for sentences today. I can feel the first hint of a cool breeze after a summer of soul-robbing heat. Oppressive heat. Continuous heat. No relief. Since May, we’ve had no relief, no release. Since May …

But that has changed.

Seasons pace us, lead us, as they reflect the seasons of our hearts.

It’s never too late. It’s never too early. My gentle readers, it’s time to become who you are. Seek, strive, ride hard before winter comes.

We are strong. Take life and love literally. Get up off the mat, get back in the saddle.

Gusto and gravitas; strength and honor; light and laughter. Fight the good fight. Do not yield. Never yield.

 – The Dyke Whisperer