Transitions

By Dr. Tim Seelig–

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts.”

—William Shakespeare

No truer words were ever spoken about life and its many parts. When we are young, each of us creates a play (or opera) in our minds that we imagine for our lives. We set the stage, select the players, and choose some fabulous costumes. For some of us, the plans may have included Barbie and her dream house. My dream was that she would move out and leave me with the dashing Ken, even though he’s not my type. Sometimes, we allow scenes to be written by others. It is a life challenge to grab the pen (computer) and write our own story. There will most definitely be lots of rewrites along the way.

Just when we think our life story is set and ready for prime time, someone or something comes along with a big eraser or “delete” button. Life throws us a curve ball—or a hand grenade. That’s when we find out how adaptable we are and learn new levels of resilience within ourselves. Or we don’t.  In a play or musical, it’s the transitions that bring the story to life and keep it moving along.

We are all too familiar with the adage: “The only constant in life is change.” That familiar adage was first uttered by Heraclitus in 500 BCE. It’s kind of sad that we all know the saying but didn’t know his name. It’s a mouthful anyway. Say it really fast three times. Few people I know have had the kind of life of the television sitcoms of the 1950s and ’60s: one house, one job, and one spouse for 40 or 50 years. My parents managed it, but I would not want to replicate their 60+ years of marriage. And I certainly haven’t. My 7 decades have been full of transitions—cram-packed with them, actually. Looking at them with a broad view and in hindsight, they seem to have worked out pretty well. But focus in and they were often not pretty. Understatement.

According to most psychologists, the top stress-inducing life events are changes in job, home, or relationship. Rounding out the top five are death of a loved one and long-term illness experienced by ourselves or someone close. I am five for five in the last few years—moving and job in the last three months. Those are well-known to most of you. I retired with my final concert and Tater Tot and I relocated in the space of three days this past July. That was a lot.

Many of the stressors listed above come without warning or time to prepare. The larger question is whether or not we are ready when those surprises come along. There are obvious things we can do, such as making sure we have the financial wherewithal to endure a job loss or even long-term illness. I won’t go into the fact that we should never have to worry about losing everything due to a health crisis. The real question is how we prepare mentally and emotionally if we can. I absolutely know there are some people who just naturally roll with the punches. Others live for the punches. Still others live life as punching bags and can’t seem to or want to change that role. And some punch.

For some reason, we, as a people, love borrowing trouble from the future and crossing bridges before we get to them. I guess it’s just human nature. The real trick is figuring out how to prepare ourselves for the transitions that will surely come and, at the same time, not worrying about them or allowing that worry to spoil the joys of today.

There are two important set pieces in our life’s stage that we don’t often think about: umbrella and safety net. The umbrella can be an employer or an organization. It can be a family unit. It provides protection from storms that may come our way or when it seems the sky is falling in. The safety net is there to catch us when we fall—or fail. Having worked for 57 years, Social Security is my safety net. Mitch McConnell and his cronies had better keep their greedy hands off of it. Just sayin’.

In our perfect life stage set, both would be there in some form. But there are transitions when we find ourselves without either one. Can you remember such a time? It could have been the loss of a friend or loved one, or a job, or a relationship or a beloved pet. I experienced this the day my doctor told me I had seroconverted and was HIV+ and again the night Corianna left us. I know my friend Dan felt this when he received his cancer diagnosis.

Librettist Pamela Tomlinson described such a moment when facing a diagnosis of a life-threatening illness. She penned it for a work titled “Sing for the Cure.” I was lucky enough to commission it for the Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. You can hear these words read by Maya Angelou here: https://tinyurl.com/ycxbfjcy

Here are excerpts from those words:

“In one instant, the security of my being has been sucked into a maelstrom and I am at the center, quickly disappearing.  My thoughts are like fragments of debris dizzily swirling around me. Where do I go from here? What next? The questions torment me. Completely disoriented, I can no longer tell up from down, dream from reality. Family and friends try to offer words of support, but their voices seem distant. They are drowned out as the diagnosis beats a steady rhythm in my brain. One moment I am free-falling and everything is surreal, in slow motion. The next instant I am caught in the frenetic spin of a tornado. I want to run, but my feet are rooted to the ground. I want to cry, but I am empty, numb. I want to scream, but my voice is paralyzed inside my throat. There is no escape from this nightmare; I am already awake.”

Take a moment with those words. Have you ever felt that way? Most of us have. But they describe transitions. Those feelings usher us into the next phase of our lives.

I am very lucky. While I have had several jobs in my life, I have only been fired one time. That one was not because I wasn’t qualified or not doing an excellent job or didn’t love what I was doing. In 1986, the Baptists frowned on men who loved men. Here we are, 36 years later, and that frown has frozen into the marble statue of judgment. It’s not pretty or nice and certainly not Christ-like. And, as we all know, it is based on a faulty reading of the scripture. If you need a quick primer on that, get our friend Jim Dant’s book, This I Know: A Simple Biblical Defense for LGBTQ Christians.

While I haven’t been fired from jobs, I have certainly not gotten every job I applied for or auditioned for. One of my favorites came as a young man. I had conducted a small gay chorus for a year. I was done. In that first year, the gays were no less dramatic/traumatic than the Baptists had been. I applied for a choral music position at a university. I killed the audition and interviews and started packing my stuff when the dean of the school of music called to tell me I had not gotten the job. He literally said, “Tim, you are a racehorse. You have huge dreams for our program. We are looking for more of a milk cow to show up and feed the students every day.”

He did me the biggest favor that day, even though I was disappointed. Having lost that job, I decided to give the gays another chance and stayed in that job 19 more years before moving to San Francisco! 35 years as a race horse. In only three months of retirement, I do not see any signs of cows on the horizon.

This current transition that is now three months old was not a surprise. What no one can really plan for is what it feels like when you get there. As you may have read in last month’s article, I have been very busy getting to know my new environs. There is excitement in new things, of course. But there are also days when my thoughts bring the expected, “What was I thinking?” “I wonder how the chorus is doing?” “Do they miss me?” Those questions don’t last long until I answer them for myself: it was the right time; the chorus is doing fabulously, of course.

I have to remind myself that the play continues. The characters are all still on stage, singing their lines and living their lives beautifully. The libretto simply had the instructions: “Tim exit stage left.” Now, to be clear, that instruction was not for Tim to leave the theater. Nope. I’m still in the wings watching and encouraging the actors and singers. Who knows? I may still have a small walk-on role.

In the next few articles, I’ll share some of the lines I am still writing and parts of the play that continue to unfold. Until then, I am embracing this transition wholeheartedly and am excited for what comes next. Most of all, I am happy you’ll be there with me.

And, by the way, as to that opening quote, Mr. Shakespeare goes on to describe the stages of life. It is quite entertaining. If you are a person of a certain age, however, you do not want to read his description of the final stage. Something about being sans eyes and teeth. Seriously, William?

And, scene.

Dr. Tim Seelig is the Conductor Laureate of the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus. http://www.timseelig.com/

TLC: Tears, Laughts, Conversation
Published on October 20, 2022