What Next?

 The semester is ending. Although my workload hasn’t been greater than in previous years, this has been a pretty intense time. Some of that has to do with the students themselves, though not entirely in a bad way. But I have also been experiencing things outside the classroom—or, more precisely, within me—that have made my interactions seem more fraught and rewarding at the same time. 

The ride I took to Point Lookout on Saturday and a Sunday visit to the Botanical Garden were what I needed: both invigorating and restorative. I will return to them again, barring some unforeseeable (for me, anyway) tragedy or disaster. Monday, on the other hand, included the last session of one of my classes. Students thanked me as I’ve never heard before. One stayed after to tell me that, for the first time, they felt confident about their future.

You may have noticed that I used gender-neutral pronouns. The student identifies themself in that way. I “outed” myself in that class: something I hadn’t done in any class in some time. “That made me realize the life I want is possible,” they explained. I urged that student, and another who identifies as non-binary, to stay in touch with me, and not only for a reference or letter of recommendation.

I told them a bit about how I began my gender affirmation process. Although I participated in support groups and was working with a therapist who helped other trans people through their affirmation processes and a clinical social worker who was a trans man, I didn’t have role models in my day-to-day life.  Some lesbians and gay men were supportive, but their journeys were, in some ways, very different from mine. For them, not to mention family members, friends, co-workers and other people in my life, I was the first person they knew who was making that “transition.” Now I am giving what I didn’t have.

I confided to them that I’ve been thinking about leaving the US. Sometimes I feel I need it for my mental health. Other times I feel I should stay because of people like them. “Well, whether you stay or go, you’ll offer the same thing you’re giving us,” one student assured me. “If you move to France or Italy or wherever, there are young people like us.”

Where, and how, will my midlife journey continue? Perhaps there is no right or wrong answer—as there is for so many of the questions I, and they, pose.

Trains of Joy

 

Little riding  yesterday.   But I went to the New York Botanic Garden’s Holiday Train Show.

The electric locomotives and cars snaked their way through scale models of  New York buildings and landmarks, all made from tree and other plant materials.

 

Rainy Day Voyage

 Rain, drizzle, mist, rain. That was today’s weather sequence. Rain when I woke up. Drizzle through my commute. A  curtain of mist when I entered my workplace. And rain cascaded me exit.  

I wimped out and took the train home.  But I got back in time to spend a couple of hours in the Botanical Garden.

A show about Van Gogh and nature will begin Friday. I plan to attend: Flowers? One of my favorite artists?  What’s not to like?

I figured, correctly, that if nothing else, the aftermath of the rain that had subsided by that time would enhance the flowers’ and trees’ scents. It also seemed to amplify birds’ songs. Perhaps I heard them so clearly because they had to share the park with so few visitors.

Even though most of the lilacs—my favorite flowers—are gone, the scents of those that remained found my nose even before I reached the lilac garden.

On my way back to my apartment, I detoured to visit a friend.

Maria. She and other New York bodega cats are a species of their own.

Marlee didn’t seem jealous. They rubbed against my ankles as I walked through the door.

A Quick Break: A Ride

Yesterday I rode—on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear— for the first time since my move.  It was a short trip, past the Garden and Zoo, but it felt good to do something not move- or work-related.

Although I’d previously done some cycling in this area, as Anniebikes says in her comment, there’s more to explore.  Even after 21 years of living in Astoria, I found new rides and variations on familiar ones.

My new apartment has nice views and is much lighter and airier than my old place.  I wonder:  Will the sun steaming in my window energize me to ride more?Will the fog creeping by lure me into winding down the bike lane by the gardens?