I sat down to ‘blog’ and discovered, not too surprisingly of late, that I thought I had nothing much to say in writing. I think a lot; I write very little.
Yep, still blocked. But I have yet to say “uncle” and just surrender, either. So, if nothing fictional is coming out of my constipated imagination, I can at least tell stories–true ones.
Here are two.
1. Karma-at-the-Gym
At the gym last month, working out – I’m using an Ab machine, when I spy the lady catty-corner from me, gesticulating, motioning me to come over to her thigh machine, which is in the “up” position (the weights are lifted off the plate; held up by her toned & skinny legs). I slither out of the ab-roller-thingy and go over there as fast as my cellulitic older legs can manage. Is she stuck? Is she having problems?
“What is it?” I ask.
“There. See it?” She practically whispers, pointing to the weights.
I look. I see nothing much, then…”Oh. Yeah, it’s a moth—“ I begin. A little, brown moth sitting between the weights.
“Can you get it out of there? I can’t reach.” She sounds a bit breathless. “If I lower the weights, well…I’ll crush it.”
Fortunately, I am not afraid of moths like the skittish people who run screaming and gyrating away from these velvety, gentle, non-stinging flying insects. “No problem.” I try to capture it in my hand but it flinches and flutters away, to the shadows beneath her seat; out of sight. But safe, sorta.
She shrugs. “It’s just…I don’t like to…you know?”
I nod. “Yeah, I know. I don’t kill them, either. Heck, I don’t even kill most spiders.” And I’m not even Buddhist or Hindu, nor do I buy into reincarnation. For a split sec, I wonder if she does.
She half-smiles and continues her work out. I go back to mine, feeling ridiculously connected to the lady. Someone weird like me! Nice to know.
I happen to believe that little creatures who are not harming you or threatening you, even those with many legs or wings or skittery-freaky habits, should have their chance to
live and prosper.
Moths make caterpillars, which are very beneficial, mostly, when they’re not eating sweaters, nice plants, or wool rugs. Spiders eat lots of Bad Bugs, BUT I do make exceptions to Black Widows in or on my home, and Brown Recluse (sorry, very-poisonous creatures). Wolf spiders are especially spooky, because they jump at you. Teeny freaky spooks. Eek!!! Run away. Run far away!
Nonetheless, I do not kill them (remember? running away) And I hear that cardio is good for the heart, so…
2. When She, Isn’t.
A few years ago, I met and hung-out during a writers conference with a lovely, vivacious and fascinating lady. We clicked instantly while standing in the first evening dinner line. We talked of dancing, writing, homemaking, clothes, the World, city vs suburban living, our families. She oozed nice-ness and gentility (and wore a rocking LBD with very high heels). We exchanged business cards and stories, and our hopes for our writing careers, encouraging one another. I could barely get near her for a chat for the rest of conference, so popular was she.
You could say she made an impression. She ended up on television with her own show. In fact, she’s been in the news lately, quite a bit. The woman I met and liked was actually, at birth anyway, a GUY. She “came out” as transgender awhile ago, unbeknownst to moi until very recently.
My reaction was something like this: “Whoa. Um. Wait….WHOA. Uh…what?!?
As transgender issues become the new burning issue in our society – at least among a very small minority of us—I have to admit that meeting this person has challenged me. Made me think about what I really, truly believe.
Do I believe that each person was crafted, created and especially made by a Creator? Why yes, I do. It makes sense: logically, biologically, and spiritually. Faith can make sense–even be logical. [Shocked? Well…perhaps you are a bit biased and uninformed about Christians. Thinkaboutit.]
“God created them male and female…” is how it is–usually. (yes, there are hermaphrodites; they have a clear biological reason to be confused, right?) Yet, some people struggle with just what and who they are, regardless of what is clearly engineered between their legs in the gender-specific region. It is confusion. Hey, I’m confused too–just about other things.
Does it change the person I met into a monster? There was no monster in sight that weekend. Just a genuine and genuinely nice person. Yeah, she did omit the transgender part of her story; possibly out of a desire not to offend me, since I shared that I write from a “Christian world-view” = red flag to her? (likely!) We had a few brief hours together at a conference, so it was as genuine as it could be in that situation. If she had told me, would I have backed off? Maybe “taken aback” is a better term, and yes, I would’ve been; my experience with such things, with a flesh-and-blood person in front of me, is limited. And yet, I’d like to think that, after my stammering and surprise, that we could’ve still been friendly–and it was, and is, an opportunity to GROW.
I empathize with those confused about their gender, their roles. I will not judge them—that is the Creator’s job. Do I understand transgenderism? Nope! But I will love, not like, accept or not accept a person based on who they ARE – not what gender. Or what gender they identify with.
And there, I will leave it.
Gosh, I’m done at less than a thousand words today. Shocking, huh?
Bree Davison 