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Tag Archives: Change

On the Eve of a Milestone

24 Tuesday Sep 2013

Posted by Solis R. in Family, Life & Living, Spirituality & Recovery

≈ 1 Comment

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Aging, Change, Family, Future, Hair, Hope, Love, Maturity, Strength, Symbol, Vision

So, I’ve been contemplating entering another decade on this earth and what that means. As time goes on it’s inevitable that one starts to think about mortality and looking at that hour glass and trying to visualize how much sand remains. Even though we are vibrant and live longer than we ever used to, at what point does the quality of living start to decline?

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I hear people beyond my age complain about aches and pains and immobility which prevent them from doing the things that they used to do. I see people who are haunted by regret for either not completing things that they wanted, or living up to expectations that they placed on themselves.

  • Also too there’s a class of folks who, looking at that hour glass with more sand in the bottom, than the top – have regrets for spending so much time and energy focused on what others thought of them or living in fear of judgment of others.

Much of my life, through necessity, and through conscious choice has been spent in service to others. It’s brought me tremendous joy. I’m far from a saint, and I’ve had my share of selfish fits – fits that would certainly would rival anyone’s I know – but dedicating myself to opportunities and commitments in my life has kept me positive, has reenergized my spirit, has affirmed my humanity and has many times kept me sane.

As I move into a new decade, with my eye peering that hour glass I wonder though, if it might be time to find a new kind of balance. What do “I” want out of life? Where will I go with my physical, emotional and spiritual health that remains?

The battle cry that is heard universally, once one reaches adulthood anyway, is that there isn’t enough time. Each day I can hear myself saying this as I run through the list of accomplishments for the last 24 hours, which inevitably leads to the list of matters that I didn’t attend to (usually a substantially longer list – because, well – there isn’t enough time). So, what would my life look like if I treated time like the precious commodity it is? What would I step up? What would I cut out? What would be rearranged in my list of life’s priorities?

 

Certainly Rob and my family remain at the top; those are not likely to move. But looking at other matters my commitments to service, friends, social functions, etc. What must stay, what can go?

Moving forward, I’m still not sure – but, there is a sense that some things could change. One at the top of the list is letting go of what others think. This is a character defect that has vastly improved over the last 20 years. But, there’s room for improvement still. At a recent spiritual panel discussion I attended I was heartened to hear some specific things in that forum. It was a panel made up of people over 60, some over 70 and there were about 5 or so on the panel. Men and women who had been friends for years, some for decades. I so appreciated their perspective.

One of the things they universally agreed upon when asked what was their favorite age. All of them said that their decade in their 50’s were there best years. Their physical vitality remained and they had established themselves already in their careers and relationships. They had a vision that began to shift about what life might look like in retirement (or what they wanted it to look like) and accordingly became invigorated by laying out plans for that. They began to care less about things like clothing labels, material accomplishment, appearances such as going grey in their hair, or gaining a new wrinkle in their skin. They saw life with a new clarity that can come only from spending a half of a century on earth. And, the new vision incorporated how to make use of that life-experience without being condescending. How to balance humility and God’s gifts with lessons that one can now help teach as well as continue to learn. They discovered in that period of their life, that they were happier than they’d ever been. Because there is a freedom which comes from letting go of such trivial matters of social standing, material acquisition, and seeking approval of others. I was energized by attending that workshop.

My own vision is in flux.

I don’t have a clear vision of what I’m heading towards. But, then again, when it comes to matters of God’s will, I rarely do. I more often get a vision of what it’s ‘not’. The things that used to be acceptable become less so, Behaviors which I had once approached with a cavalier attitude, take on new significance. So, if you notice a change in me – don’t be surprised. Nor alarmed.

It’s me – molting.

It starts this morning with a new head of hair. That sounds trivial doesn’t it? I don’t care if you think that. Ha.

I sat in the chair of my favorite hair salon last evening and I said we’re doing something different. “How different” Stacey asks. She can hardly contain her excitement in matters of hair-experimentation. Very different. “Let’s go blond”.

“Really?”

“Really”.

Why? Because I’ve always wondered how’d it be and why not today. Of the times it’s crossed my mind the immediate second thought was a dismissal. I branded it as a ridiculous notion. And, what would people say? They’d likely laugh. Maybe pay me a tongue in cheek compliment, or maybe shake their heads. Maybe they wouldn’t notice at all. Each of those reactions carries a consequence for the person consumed about what other people think. But, because I’m entering a decade of change, I’m going to let that go.

The hair is just a silly symbol. It’s an act for me, for myself to announce to the world, that I’m doing this for me. It’s just a small inconsequential thing that represents the larger steps I may take for myself. It may last only a week, it will likely be back to being dark in a month, but I’m doing it to mark this moment in my life. So, when I see a picture of myself, years from now I’ll recall how I felt at this moment in my life. How much possibility and hope lay ahead for me. Will I go to school? Will I embark on a career change? Will I learn to play a musical instrument? Will I write a book?

It all remains a question mark, but the possibility is there.

If God’s will for me is to be happy, joyous and free, I am that today. I enter the decade where all things are possible as long as I trust in the infinite and have faith that I’ll be OK if I cease relying on the finite.

Right now however, in this moment, I will smirk as I barrel down the Mopac in Austin Texas, top down on the truck, with my ridiculous golden fake locks of inconsequential symbol waving in the wind. How does it look? Wait. That’s right. In this instance, your opinion is not necessary. Thanks for having or not having one though.

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To Thine Own Self…

15 Thursday Mar 2012

Posted by Solis R. in Austin, Dallas, Houston, People & Celebrities, Places, San Antonio, Spirituality & Recovery, Texas

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Tags

6th Street, Austin, Change, Downtown, Drag, Drag Queens, Gay, Home, Leslie Cochran, LGBT, Making a Difference, Texas, Transgender

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Each of us has the power of changing the world around us. I mean that in all sincerity. Not in the way that some of us envisioned. Perhaps not in the way we plan. Or maybe we have a vision and it comes out completely different than what our imagined reality would look like. But we still have the ability to provide that ingredient that still changes the world for others.

Sometimes perhaps it comes in grand accomplishment or gesture. Or, maybe it can come in the simplest manner possible. The simplest manner of course, would be just be just acting in a way that is true to ourselves.

Who would think that change could be effected by just “being ourselves”?

That was a lesson or insight that one of Austin’s most eccentric characters bestowed upon me. Without formal declaration, or sitting me down and saying “listen to this”. That’s the beauty of this particular lesson. The teacher wasn’t a self-professed teacher. It wasn’t even perhaps his goal or stated mission.

What Leslie Cochran reminded me, is that sometimes eccentricity can be portrayed in a way that  doesn’t have to be threatening or frightening. That crazy can sometimes elicit a giggle. That anger, directed at authority or bureaucracies can have a grace that is more ridiculous than intimidating and yet it still can be taken seriously. That outrageous can have its own impact.

When I first was deciding about whether I could live in Texas, I was faced with many questions. Some of them were perplexities. I wasn’t sure if I’d be safe. Californians, particularly Northern Californians, have an insulated way of looking at cultures. There’s San Francisco liberal, and there’s everywhere else… conservative. We sometimes look at the world this way because SF and much of Northern California in general is ground zero for liberal thought.

Everywhere else is just a remote measurement to the “Ten” that is Berkeley.

Certainly, I thought, Texas, even Austin, would be somewhere down the scale – perhaps a five? Four? I dreaded to go lower.

After all, even though Sacramento is probably an eight to the Bay Area ten, certainly in Texas I’d have to subtract digits from the baseline of the 8 I was used to living in. Rob and I arrived for the sole purpose of finding out where on the scale the various cities in Texas fell.

Houston was wonderful. We loved Houston. But, much how we love cities like Los Angeles and SF. It’s a metropolis. It has museums. It has culture. Arts, all of it. Along with it, it has people. Lots of em. Loads of em in fact. We never have had a desire to live in a place where we felt we’d need to acclimate to a culture by blending into obscurity with it. Big cities make us feel that way. Thank God, Rob and I are like minded in this regard. I don’t know if we could survive a relationship where we were drawn to different cultural living experiences like a push-me-pull-you. Houston 7.5

Dallas is wonderful. We liked Dallas. But, Dallas is like West Hollywood. We feel an undercurrent of competitiveness. Like we could spend the rest of our lives loving living in Dallas provided that we were willing to compromise certain aspects of our lives. Like we’d have to acclimate to a certain materialism that pervades, like leftover aura from the TV show Dallas era. I hope my friends in Dallas don’t read this as a judgment. It’s not that really. I think most would agree Dallas is a unique city in Texas. I once saw it summed up on a T-shirt which read “Keep Austin Weird”. On the reverse side? “Keep Dallas Pretentious”. But we still like Dallas. Dallas 7.

San Antonio was nice. It has an old cities charm. It is in fact one of the oldest cities in America. Thus, the architecture in some areas reflects this. It has a Spanish overtone which makes it seem other worldly, and then the River Walk of course, lends a unique character to it all. The problem we found is when we looked at homes outside of downtown proper it seem to fit more of what our idea of traditional Texas looked like. That is… dry, tan, and flat. In defense of San Antonio, it was August however. San Antonio 6.5

This left Austin. After exploring these other offerings, we were seeking an oasis. There was a reason I left Austin for last. Of the cities I’d visited prior to this important trip, (important because it was one of the checklists for our making a decision, and because it was our honeymoon) Austin was my favorite. I consciously and subconsciously wanted it to be Rob’s favorite too.

It was at once exciting, alive and unique. It was weird with its liberal bent and artistic in a bohemian way that for all of Houston’s money, culture and museums couldn’t muster. It was exciting to be here. To meet the friendly people. To meet with a realtor. And, it was exciting to dream that we could live here.

Then there was the dreaded scale question. We found ourselves walking down 6th street, one of the more touristy and grungy parts of downtown. It’s kitschy what with its souvenir shops and Esther’s Follies, etc. But it wasn’t the best place to answer the scale question.

Could I be safe here? Could I be me? I wondered if I could acclimate. How would I fit in? It was answered in one fell swoop. Upon turning a corner onto congress. Rob snapped a picture that I wish I’d been able to dig up. If I do at a later date, I’ll add it here. But, it was of Leslie Cochran of Congress Street and Austin fame. Leslie in all his fabulous, feather boa, thong, high heels and all.

We didn’t know who he was. We didn’t know what role he played in this cast of characters or that he was even a fixture. I just know I was face to face with the first ever transgendered and from-appearances, homeless person I’d seen. This person, Leslie as I would learn upon a later date introduction was a spectacle. But a peaceful one. And, one that seemed to gracefully blend into the canvas of weirdness. He neither raised eyebrows, or terse reaction. He didn’t receive reproach from passerby for his antics or risqué dress.

I knew in one moment – I’d be ok. I knew on that August day in 2006 that I’d be ok. That I fit Austin. Austin fit me. That I came to judge Austin on a scale. I was used to living in an 8. It hadn’t occurred to me that “I” might have to be willing to move. Could I live in a city at a 9 or even a 10? Yes!

I didn’t expect that. And, in that simple way on this one random day – Leslie Cochran impacted my life. I was later to learn that he impacted many more.

As I would later come across Leslie many times later, once I moved here, Leslie was fascinating to watch. Whether he was posing with his fans or passerby for photos and collecting the occasional dollar. Or whether he was checking the runs in his fishnet stockings in a storefront reflection. Or thumbing for a ride up and down congress. Or peeking into a nearby trashcan, he seemed at once aware of all that was going on around him and oblivious at the same time.

The only time he displayed brashness was at the occasional authority figure (he’d had his own collected experiences with law enforcement and city officials that may have justified is own opinions on this matter).

And on the day of his death, the community came out. In wigs. In tiaras. In mustache. And in the park we let pink balloons fly. Some wiped tears, some wore thongs and heels.

And, I realized that Leslie Cochran had carved out impact in his own little corner of the weird world. Austin.

All he did was be himself.

Himself was enough.

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Living the California Life in Texas

Rob and I live with our puppies Ganso and Zorra here in Austin Texas. We've been together since 1989 and enjoy spending time with family and friends. We moved to Texas from California in 2007 and it has been amazing transition from Sacramento to Austin. I hope we have an opportunity to get to see you/know you soon. Take care and be well.

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