Twenty-two months ago, I received the enormous blessing of a very healthy kidney donated by my sister-in-law. Ever since I've been the poster-boy for successful organ transplants. Not an hour goes by that I don't feel myself welling up with gratitude. Every moment is a gift.
This morning I went in to see my nephrologist, whom I now see twice a year. As I've noted earlier, I think he's one of the very best doctors I've ever seen. Every time I see him, I feel seen. And heard. By treating me as a whole person, he's always encouraged me to respond with my whole being.
Today I was able to brighten his and his dear nurse's day, even as they did the same for me. Alma took my vitals and we commiserated about our seasonal weight gain. As she prepared the exam room for my check-up with Dr. Alvarez, she heard, once again, how happy and grateful I am. As she was leaving, she stopped and smiled. "I'm not sure you realize, Bear, but your huge success with the transplant is special, it's unusual. I don't mean one-in-a-hundred successful. We're talking one-in-many-thousands."
Wow. And again Wow when I saw the good doctor. I'd come in for blood tests last week, so we went over the results together. At every turn, he remarked that my numbers couldn't be better. I've even brought my cholesterol down to 154! And my kidney function has gone from 12% two years ago to 75% now! I celebrated the fact that with a long-awaited policy change from the FDA, I'd now be able to donate blood and bone marrow, something that's be denied me (just because I'm a gay man) since the mid-70's.
Now I am consciously leaning on my extraordinary return to vibrant health to be able to read and hear and think and write about the grave challenges facing both humanity and all living beings on our planet. Our first response to terrible news is, quite naturally, I'm sure, to retreat and wrap a protective fist around our tender hearts. Leaning into the pain of looking deep and long at what we're doing to one another and to our environment is now not only possible for me, but feels like my responsibility, as a strong, smart, privileged human being.
As I teach my actors, it is productive to distinguish between reacting and responding, both on stage and in life. Both are appropriate responses, but the former, a knee-jerk, can become a habit before long. When I hear another Fox pinhead stupefying her audience, or a climate-change denialist chairing a governing science committee, or an everyday dualist, like me or like you, putting his connection with humanity on a limb and then sawing it off, instead of just huffing and puffing and being dismissive, I'm finding more and more opportunities to open my heart to the pain and fear from whence such negativity arises.
The moments over the course of my life so far that are most vivid and that I most cherish have been Yes moments. Standing at the base of the Lincoln Memorial 52 years ago when Martin Luther King delivered his "I have a dream" speech. Holding hands with two strangers in Lafayette Park across from the White House, making a gigantic circle and singing We Shall Overcome
all together as dusk turned to dark. Marching across a D.C. bridge to Virginia to surround the Pentagon with vibes of peace and love, sticking daffodils into the bayonetted rifles of the soldiers who stood so grimly by.
All these PLUS every single show I've directed or acted in, telling the story, seeing young people rise up and shine as never before, creating something beautiful for others to experience with us.
How better to say Yes to our humanity, Yes to our resourcefulness and ability to create, and Yes to our commitment and recommitment to life in us and around us.
May this year be full of Yes for you, dear Reader. We're all in this together.