My dear friend Alex was asked to be the Grand Marshall of the Gay Pride Parade in Chicago this year. She is there teaching for the summer. It was a huge deal to be asked, extremely exciting – and I really regret not being able to be there to celebrate with her, and all the gays I know and love.<\/p>\n
Alex had an amazing experience – which she writes about here<\/a>. Don’t miss it. Her ability to see through to the heart of things – not just the reality around her, but who she is being in those moments<\/i> is unparalleled – and one of the reasons why we are friends. I’m highly bored with people who cannot take responsibility for themselves, and who project their anger out onto others, and feel justified<\/i> 100% of the time (you know, the whole “I relish how right I am<\/a>” crowd). None of us are perfect, but you know those who operate on that level and those who don’t. It’s clear. And sometimes, sometimes, when you are faced with hatred, coldness, fear, contempt … you can come back with love. It does happen, if you are not so bound to the fact that you must be so RIGHT all the time. In such moments there is the possibility of grace. True grace. It could not happen otherwise.<\/p>\n I had such a moment recently. It was a bitter pill to swallow and frankly I am still choking on it. But better to show the person grace and compassion, in the face of indifference and cruelty, than insisting on my own righteousness. I don’t know WHY this is the case, and it certainly isn’t always the case … and I struggle mightily with this, because I have been hurt. Blindsided, really. I want to punish the person who hurt me. Natural response. But on further reflection, I just couldn’t. That kind of energy is short-lived, it has no shelf life. It is a flash, where you feel better for maybe two seconds – but you don’t EVEN feel better. Not really. What it does is deepen the grooves within you, of anger and bitterness, and you get to nod your head contemptuously over how right you are and how stupid everyone else is … and if you LIVE in that state, then you are a poisonous individual. Not only to yourself but to those around you.<\/p>\n Like I said: not easy. It means I have to give up on the idea of having the last word. Of winning the argument. I have to give that up. I have. Bitter pill. But one I have to swallow.<\/p>\n Alex has often shown me the way in this regard (although when someone requires a bitch-slap, there’s nobody like Alex to give it …) and it is not in the moments when all is good and perfect that you are really “allowed” to be great and awesome. It is in those other moments, when confronted with cruelty, indifference, blindsided by rejection. Can you show someone grace then?<\/p>\n Can you, as my cousin Mike wrote<\/a>, make a choice to not contribute to someone else’s hurt, “even if you think they deserve it”?<\/p>\n This is a lifetime journey. The desire to WIN (especially when you have been hurt and want to lash out) is ferocious. And here’s the other thing: You are rarely thanked for showing people who have hurt you grace. It has to be done for its own sake. That’s hard, too, because you have to let go of expectations. You have to let go of being right. Of clinging to your hurt and making a badge out of it. And you have to do all of this knowing and understanding that you probably will get nothing in return. There is no reward. Or, not an immediate palpable reward. More often than not, you are mocked for being weak. Or, you get no response whatsoever. It goes out into the void and you get nada back. (This post I wrote<\/a> about a beautiful moment my friend Wade had with a hostile stranger is an example of what I am talking about – except that Wade’s behavior ended up turning the encounter around. Scan the comments there and look for the angry guy who could not tolerate the way the conversation had turned. Could. Not. Do. It. His own sense of how right he was, and how wrong it seemed to show someone gentleness when they are a jackass – was rock-solid, an edifice that could not be cracked. He just couldn’t “go there”. It was like we were speaking two entirely different languages. Now that’s just some random commenter on the Internet. Whatever. And even in that moment I can see, “Okay, that guy obviously has been hurt and rejected and feels angry about that.” Again, a natural response. But he is not trying to go deeper. He has stayed in his hurt – made a badge of it. He LIVES there.) So again, it comes down to a choice. Who do I want to be?<\/p>\n Alex, in all her complexity and humanness, lives in that place. That’s a conversation she has with herself every day. Even in moments of triumph, even in moments of loss.<\/p>\n Go read the whole thing<\/a>. I love you, dear.<\/p>\n In light of recent amazing developments in a certain area (or should I say “sector”) of which I have intense interest (as does Alex), I thought it might be fun to look back on two of our many wacky experiences together. No, it’s not the time we drove through the immediate aftermath of a gang killing, and I tiptoed in my high-heeled sandals past a dead and bloody body on the sidewalk as Alex hissed at me to “RUN! RUN!” towards her out of the crossfire … No, it’s not that time. It’s not the time we danced around doing jazz hands in a garage full of Armenians. Nope. Not that time either. Nor is it the time we drove to Vegas to see Liza Minelli.<\/p>\n The two experiences are related, as you will see.<\/p>\n Getting clear on Hollywood Boulevard …<\/a><\/p>\n Our private tour of the Life Exhibit of a certain individual …<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My dear friend Alex was asked to be the Grand Marshall of the Gay Pride Parade in Chicago this year. She is there teaching for the summer. It was a huge deal to be asked, extremely exciting – and I … Continue reading