A Place in Space: June 2008 Archives

Chunks of quantum wave packets defined by continuous variables of position, energy and momentum may not yield a frequency/wavelength ratio but - metonymically (something the human brain does via consciousness) - couldn't we use this language to describe the shape of the social world?

Over the past week, I had a couple of long text-message conversations with a friend across the country, trying to sort out how to navigate the intensity of dynamics that had developed so unexpectedly. I mean, I came to sail, not to do intense interpersonal processing! Which doesn't mean I assumed that there would not be any, but I never doubted that we would work them out. As I grappled with the shock, my friend said, "You're trying." I replied, "That can be taken two different ways!" (I found a nautical application, too: "To "try" is when a vessel is hove to, to so trim her sails that she may gather headway and make something to the good." A Manual of Boat and Yacht Sailing by Kemp and Smith.)

Captain has said it's a matter of difference in the ways we show concern. I've thought it might be more in the ways we show gratitude. I have my "analysis," as the Captain says. :-/ And she has hers. If we agreed on the nature of the problem we might have had more of a chance, but the initial upset has been ungraspable, or unspeakable, or otherwise uncomprehendable. Captain says crew/captain conflict is typical and common. Yes I'm sure but we are not! Neither of us is oridinary; my disappointment is keen. Which (true confessions) did not help her stress level, at all. :-(

As I continue to puzzle over this development, it seems to me we're talking two sides of the same coin: appreciation (i.e., the perceived lack thereof) ~ for what the other is going through and what we believe we give. ("Belief," writes Ursula Le Guin in The Telling, "is the wound that knowledge heals" (p. 190).)

I have learned tons.

• I start to forget things and get spacey when my mind is full of thoughts unwritten.


• I'm easy unless/until a suspicion of being unwanted or not accepted gets going (not new info, just evidence that vein of pain still runs deep) and (!)


• I've got more bounce-back than I ever had before. :-)


• My coping strategy of poking fun directly at the sore spots (in myself, primarily but also interactively) can be interpreted by others as oppositional, even combative. :-(


• I really don't need very much but that little bit is vital. :-/

Tracking my own emotional ride these past two weeks, I realize I'm a bit like that lighthousekeeper who really wanted a son. First, prudence (of course my needing to finish that paper onboard was going to rub the wrong way), patience (we have plenty of time to let things sort themselves out without getting too worked up about them), hope ("we had a major breakthrough," I texted a friend after the Captain told me she was feeling better), then despair. :-(

Still working on "the little fox way over there." (Or was it Hog?)

I learned more about sailing too, and my attraction to it. I like the role of doing the manual labor without devoting hours of intellectual labor to the comprehensive tasks of outfitting the boat and the constant challenge of navigation.

I think I could grow into these skills, given favorable conditions to develop them at a natural, experiential pace. There's just too much else going on in my mind/life with accumulated momentum and ambition for me to divert the kind of resources necessary to be assertive about sailing without tangible support and conducive opportunity.

The Captain told me, several days ago, that I sail better when I actually look at the sail - an activity she thinks I do (!) when the awning is down. If I did glance at the sail more often when it was easy to see, that didn't mean I knew what I was looking at! Even when she would tell me what to look for, I still did not develop a sense of meaningfulness regarding what I saw. I have experienced this often in relation to the terminology and jargon of sailing (boatbuilders, types of boats, names of parts, etc) - I understand the words but do not comprehend their relevance. The evidence is in not making the connection between what's been said and what's happening or what one wants to make happen. I experience those moments (which occur in other, non-sailing contexts too) as if there's a kind of fuzz between me and comprehension. I perceive something on the other side, but there is a lack of clarity, a welter of interference.

That I perceive the fuzziness at all is (actually!) an accomplishment to celebrate. :-) In the past, either I would assume I did understand (and be wrong), or I would assume the other person didn't know what they were talking about (and be wrong). Neither attitude led to satisfactory relational outcomes. The fact that I now realize when I'm not clear on something is a measure of significant growth. Next, I need to get better at developing a range of strategies for interacting with others while I am in this ambiguous condition. My primary tendency is to just accept that this is where I am - probably an overreaction of passivity to counter the myriad of instances in the past in which I would attempt to exert control over confusing situations.

However, I suspect that relaxed stance might lead to more confusion or misunderstanding in the relationship, as it interacts, communicatively, with the other person(s) perceptions and strategies.

My peak achievement, on my last sailing day, was to manage both the tiller and the main sheet simultaneously. The Captain and I had perfected a tandem routine in which she would work the tiller and tell me when to pull in or let out the sheet, including how much or how far. Coming in to harbor from Rome Point that day, she was just unwell enough to give both tasks over to me. Uh oh, I thought, another test! :-) But this time - finally - I actually had a sense of what to do, how to combine the priority of keeping the sail full with adjustments in aim. Yippee!

Last but not least, I learned how to flemish the lines.

The trilogy, billed first as Xenogenesis and then as Lilith's Brood, closes with more insight on the human condition from the vantage point of maturity. (Am I a grown-up, now?)

"Humans said one thing with their bodies and another with their mouths and everyone had to spend time and energy figuring out what they really meant. And once we did understand them, the Humans got angry and acted as though we had stolen thoughts from their minds." (p. 548)

Why are we so reluctant to be known? And what is the crime of understanding?

"...the ooloi perceived all that a living being said - all words, all gestures, and a vast array of other internal and external bodily responses. Ooloi absorbed everything and acted according to whatever consensus they discovered. Thus ooloi treated individuals as they treated groups of beings. They sought a consensus. If there was none, it meant the being was confused, ignorant, frightened, or in some other way not yet able to see its own best interests. The ooloi gave information and perhaps calmness until the could perceive a consensus. Then they acted." (p. 553)

Jodahs is another child of Lilith, Tino and Nikanj, Dichaan and Ahajas. Jodahs has exceeded the limits of genetic engineering designed to ensure only male and female children, instead becoming ooloi, an ungendered being. "Not being able to go to anyone for comfort...can make you like the lightening - mindless and perhaps deadly" (p. 558).

I have acted "like the lightening" sometimes, in past events and instances I'd rather not remember. Quick anger and deep hurt spark words that leap unbidden from the tongue even before my mind has wrapped itself around them. Then come the rationalizations: the excuses and reasons why, the justifications. None suffice.

Some things, however, must be said.

Jodahs is afraid of causing harm. "Give yourself time. you're a new kind of being. There's never been anyone like you before. But there's no flaw in you. You just need time to find out more about yourself." (p. 571)

The hard things Nikanj had to say were about killing in self-defense - if absolutely necessary. Such an action is a horror to the Oankali, whose reverence for life exceeds all other imperatives. "Nothing is more tenacious than the life we are made of." (p. 663)

That is the Oankali religion in a nutshell: "A world of life from apparent death, from dissolution." (p. 663) I am reminded of Alvin the Maker and quantum physics.

If one accepts the fact of quantum indeterminacy, however unlikely the probability, there remains chance - for life, for change, for health, for happiness, for any good thing (just as equally as, to be fair, any bad thing). One can never predict when, where, how, or why one may discover - in themselves and others -

Note:
Book Two: Adulthood Rites
Book One: Dawn

Tommy said to my friends: "You're funny!" :-) This was after Kelly regaled us with the joke about a man returning to college and learning something about logic. She went on to talk about racial tensions in Kansas:

"Me and Steph went to a KKK rally in Topeka...."
I had to interrupt: "We went to protest the rally!"

Meanwhile, Kay dispensed her wisdom:

Later, at Frances' pool party, a bunch of hooligans from the old days gathered. Tammy teased Kathy's kids about horseback riding: "Merry-go-rounds don't count." Someone (was it Lori?) sprained her ankle the last time she rode a horse.

How'd you do that?

I was drunk and fell off.

Everyone told me I looked better without the hair. No surprise. :-)

The hours drifted by, filled with easy conversation. When I returned to Kansas City two years ago for my nephew's funeral, it did not even occur to me that some of my old friends might appear - I had been away for more than two decades, hadn't everyone else scattered too? Nope, Kay said, I was the only one. I hoped for a chance to tell everyone how much their friendship means to me, the stability I gain from knowing that they are all still there. We were not in a sentimental space, just a casual one - like the old days.

After the long lazy day, five of us scooted off to catch Gay Pride. In the end, it did not matter at all that festivities ended at 10 pm instead of midnight - our arrival at the Liberty Memorial outdoor venue at 9:54 created another adventure. We moved on to

Organizers pitched this as the 30th year, which is a slight exaggeration. When we - me, Bill Todd, Marc Hein, and a very few others - got together in 1988 to plan a Gay and Lesbian Awareness event (GALA), there had not been any pride events in the KC area for several years. We did know they had occurred before, but - as far as I know - had no contact with any former organizers. Maybe some of the original organizers reappeared after I moved away? We held a first GALA event with a measly 200 participants, which grew to 500 the second year. I returned to town for the third year's event - an estimated 3000 and the first ever parade. Marc insisted I ride in the lead car (some people whom I didn't know weren't so happy about that but others agreed).

This was my first experience with the humility necessary to be a public figure. I use this concept deliberately - because I failed, and the lesson has never left.

I had no part in planning that year. My activism had led me to democratic politics and national-level organizing in the lesbian community, I had been fired (literally because of activism) and moved away. Marc and I talked about AIDS and the gay community for most of the ride. He was expert at setting the pace - I felt we us moving so slowly! The route was long...I lost track of time. Suddenly we topped a hill and a huge roar greeted us - we were at Southmoreland Park and a huge crowd spotted us the moment we came into view. I heard them before I saw them. The noise nearly compelled me to stand - in fact, I struggled with the visceral shock: this moment of collective celebration deserved cheering and I was the one in the only position to act as cheerleader. All it would have taken was for me to stand up and wave my arms - to use my body as a sign of triumph.

I could not do it. I was too embarrassed. I felt doubt - was I even supposed to be there? Should it have been someone else in the passenger seat of the lead car? I could not let go of my own ego and allow myself - my Self, in the guise of my Body - to symbolize for all of us that extraordinary historical moment.

This year, like last, there were tens of thousands of people celebrating pride in our community. Most events were at the largest outdoor venue in Kansas City (short of a sports stadium), rife with symbolic value. From those humble single afternoon programs, the event now spans an entire weekend. The estimate was thirty thousand people, of all stripes, religions, races, and ages: a human rainbow.