STOP, LOOK, AND LISTEN

Do you recall hearing as a youngster, “Stop, look, and listen before you cross the street. Use your eyes. Use your ears. And then you use your feet?”

The words have been running through my head all day, just as songs often do. That is, until I realize that I’m singing “Here Comes Santa Claus,” and it’s mid-April.

I’ve taught “Stop, look, and listen,” to nephews and nieces, and then to their children. As they age, I change the words for the same message to “Be in the moment.” One Wall Street executive in the family has told me, “That’s the best gift you’ve given me.”

Last night I was at a party across the street, and spent a big chunk of time talking to a guy I just met with whom we covered everything from our names and where we grew up, to the challenges of aging. I picked him out because I had been watching him and his husband hang together. There was an intimacy going on to which I could relate.

Despite the big differences in our childhoods, and our experiences as gay men, we ended up talking about “awareness,” and being in the moment. That’s when I lost consciousness of the time. When I enter the realm of the senses, and focus them entirely on the moment, I dismiss all thought as disruptive. Stop, look, and listen. Because we got to that consciousness, I’ll remember him and what was said long after all thoughts of the party meld into one.

Earlier in the week, I had the same experience over coffee with a guy I’ve known for a few years. We’ve always been friendly to each other in passing, but when we sat and shared what we’ve learned about awareness, I entered an intimacy with him that I’ll now carry with me, and it’s far more likely that we’ll socialize. Once you get to the point where you both understand that it’s only through our senses that we’re in the moment, the conversation and relationship go to a higher level.

Ray and I seem to be doing a lot more “stop, look and listen,” with each other. With the game-changing death of our dog, Lincoln, we’re both very susceptible to awareness, to being conscious of each other, and curious about one another’s feelings.

I often experience myself as if I’m dream walking through the day. My emotions go neither up nor down. I’m neither excited about, nor dreading the future, although I’m experiencing more and more significant deaths in my life, and I do give fleeting moments of thought to “what if?” The thing I like about the “Stop, look and listen” children’s lesson is that when it comes to mind, I do stop, and start using my senses to register what’s happening, like being in the presence of friends, old and new, and in the company of my beloved.

Brian McNaught has been an author and educator on LGBTQ issues since 1974. Former Congressman Barney Frank said of Brian, “No one has done a better job of chronicling what it’s like to grow up gay." www.brian-mcnaught.com.