Naked

Diane Sawyer was very unhappy! She stared in disbelief at her guest on the “Good Morning America” show and stammered an incoherent attempt at a challenge to what the noted scholar and author had just said … on nationwide TV … on air to millions of viewers who could not possibly misconstrue the woman’s point … and Ms Sawyer was aghast!

But there was to be no opportunity for either rebuttal or discussion. Ms. Sawyer’s sword of abbreviation of her guest’s interview moment … was to cut both ways. For the hostess’s earpiece was obviously abuzz with urgent demands for her to “cut to commercial … NOW!” And what had been designed to be a polite “kiss-off” to this woman who had devoted her life to the study of human behaviors and relationships … a woman who had invested untold years of preparation for; execution of; and writing about an in-depth study of the nature of relationships in all of our world’s most visible cultures … had turned into a statement that our Ms. Sawyer would have given anything to suck back into the studio and delete from memory. But, alas, too late!

It was with an air of obvious perturbation that the Academic/Author replied to Ms Sawyers request that “in light of our running a bit short on time … and I do apologize for that … I wonder if you could … in the very few seconds that we have available … give our viewers what you can about this very fascinating book of yours.” Being asked to provide a summary of her life’s passion and work, as contained in her book, in a matter of a rushed fifteen seconds, left this this woman looking in a state of obvious amazement at her “interviewer.” This accomplished scientist and researcher had been “cooling her heels” in the “ready-room” of the studio, whilst watching her interview time being frittered away by this television network “talking head”, with a bunch of silly inanities that mattered for naught. And now she was being given “the bum’s rush.”

Knowing full well something of the effort and time involved in this woman’s even being in that studio, in that city, and on air at that moment, I, as a viewer, awaited her response. She said (with a steely-eyed look of disdain for this imposition and discourtesy) something in the order of “ Well, Ms Sawyer, after studying the nature of male/female relationships in 37 widely divergent cultures, around the world, for these many years, we reached the unavoidable conclusion that men aspire to become the wealthiest and most powerful so that they can attract the most beautiful women … and women aspire to be the most beautiful so that they may attract the most wealthy and powerful men.” Ms Sawyer’s feminist Self recoiled … visibly! But … no time! The Author gave a condescending “Got Ya!” smile and said “We have overwhelming and incontrovertible data and documentation supporting that statement of absolute fact! It is all in the book, now available in bookstores everywhere.” (The network cut to commercials … with Ms Sawyer still stuttering and stammering … cheeks aglow with frustrated displeasure.) I sat, stunned!

“So” you rightly ask, “what brings us to reflect on this long-ago television encounter … today?” I am so glad that you asked! [chuckle] For, you see, I was reminded of that interview by some demonic little voice within my being (yes, I am being harsh and unsympathetic) that wants to validate the “legitimacy” of a recent occurrence in my most personal and intimate life.

I was soundly asleep, at exactly (I know because I just checked the saved ‘caller ID’ record) 10:55PM on the night of 17 March. That is when the phone rang. I was instantly wide awake! Inasmuch as everyone who knows me on a phone calling level is aware of my “early to bed” (8PM), and “early to rise” (3 AM) schedule (to begin my work at 4 AM), I always know, with a certainty, that anyone calling at that hour is someone dear to me … and in immediate need of … well … Me. So, I grab up the phone, create a “Oh, I was up anyway” tone of voice (lest the party in need feel guilty for the disturbance) and greet the mystery caller. I was met with a playful and quite pleasant female voice that I knew I was familiar with … but could not place. Because my ‘caller ID’ had been tagged with a setting that informed me that this number was a welcome one, I played along and hoped for some little clue that would make certain the identity of the caller. And eventually, of course, she became known to me. What followed was two and one-half hours of the most enjoyable and moving conversation that I had (as of that date) had the honor of participating in for a very, very long time.

And what made for a heightened and enriched level of satisfaction and enjoyment in that call, was my hearing all of the words that every fibre of my Being had yearned to hear expressed for all of my lifetime. Words of love. Words of desire. Words of devotion and appreciation. Words of adoration. All from an intelligent, articulate, vivacious, hilariously witty, woman. A woman who I had spoken to only twice before. And never in a context related to anything personal … much less intimate … even far less romantic. But then, on that late night/ early morning occasion, she spoke of “forever together,” and “love from the first sound of [my] voice,” heightened by “swept away by [my] words written.” All proclamations and declarations that I had had a starved hunger for … well, forever!

THEN! The invitation. “Can you cross the bay … now?” “Can you be with me right now?” To which my adolescent exuberance and indiscretion screamed an unrestrained “Of Course!” (Never let the sixty-two year old vehicle fool you. The engine and all working parts are programmed, and in full racing form and fitness. [smile]) Warmth, tenderness imploring and welcoming were the theme music in her voice. Until … my brain kicked in, and Reality announced itself. I live a very sparse life with an income that is twenty percent below the official government standard for Poverty level. “I can not drive across the bay tonight. I have neither the fuel, nor the means to buy fuel for that drive.” I said. She laughed (a nervous, unbelieving laugh.) “You are kidding … right?” “Oh no … not kidding at all. If only it were possible, I would be there in haste. But, alas, I haven’t the means to do so. And, even if I did, I must be at work shortly. So, it would be impossible in any case.”

We talked for a short while more. And I discerned a hollow chill where a warm soundtrack had been (for the previous two hours) playing. She was immediately tired. And her voice lost all of its enthusiasm. ‘Forever’s became a forgotten thought in the presence of ‘not now’s. Adoration was displaced by discomfort. And … I have not heard from her since.

I willingly allowed my “All-of-Me” to take flight on wings of Idealistic fantasy … because, I am, after all (by nature, disposition, and temperament) an Idealist Romantic. And I have listened for the ringing of that phone since. Until this morning’s awakening reminder of that interview by Diane Sawyer. And I have been in a mode of recollection of all that I turned my back on in 1988. The culture of conditional … everything! All allegiances, all attachments, all affections and endearments … subject to and dependent upon status, power, influence, material accumulations, and position. This was the world that this Idealist/Romantic accomplished his ‘successes’ in. And I had to work with a compassionate and highly skilled psychologist for the last five of those years, just to maintain my sanity (which some may still question.)

So, today I live on an income that is less that most spend on drive-thru snacks … in a tiny cottage that is cluttered with my collection of hand-woven baskets (I do love them), books everywhere (my passion), and the stuff of sixty-two (as of today) years of living. I drive an old van that has a ‘lovely’ coating of green mold growing in expanse on its roof and on its sides (because such a sight used to disgust me … in the days when [as my youngest daughter so delicately says “I had a life”] … and I am declaring [to, and for my Self] my independence from those shackles of arrogance and snobbery.) I live just out of the grasp of homelessness. That is a fact! When anything goes amiss (air conditioner, vehicle, tires, whatever …) I call on one of my loving siblings and they generously come to my aid. And they all … without exception … proclaim their happiness in supporting my reaching out to my world from this … the happiest place that I have ever been in in all of my days.

So, on this anniversary of good old family physician, Doctor Faber’s slapping me on my rosie pink arse and declaring “It’s a Boy!”, I am struggling, afresh, with a tsunami of unhappiness with my “Aloneness.” I am not “lonely”, mind you. Oh no! Most certainly not that. But my sensitivity to my life-long hunger for that never-realized intimacy of companionship and loving togetherness was awakened by that phone call. And now I am in the birth-anniversary heightened throws of dealing with its absence.

So, my Dear Friend, that is about as vulnerable, open, candid, naked, and honest as I have ever been with anyone. But you, My Darling One, have earned that place of trusted sanctuary in my Soul … by your loving and accepting embracing of … Me. And I love You for it!

NAMASTE