Romance

Posted on November 19, 2023 by Catherine Cheng, MD

Hmmmm… This will be interesting–what’s already good and what could be better?

What does the word ‘romance’ evoke for you? Be honest. I wonder how many of us feel a little sheepish, shy, or embarrassed? That we like it, want it, wish for more of it–to receive or to give? Would anyone describe American culture as romantic? Chinese (hard no)? French, Italian, Spanish? Indian? German? What do we mean when we say a culture is romantic? Okay here we go, let’s see what comes out tonight:

How do I already do romance well?
–I embrace the book genre–jumped in the deep end last year, no floaties, haven’t come out, have no plans. I’m making it easier for anyone who talks to me to ‘admit’ that they also consume, devour, and relish it, without shame or regret. I’m a convert, and I’m doing my part to normalize it to the general public. I stand up to those who judge.
–I’m open to all kinds of romance, in all its forms. I wrote to a friend this year, “(The unconventional romantic relationships in these books) validate my desire to question and challenge social norms that stifle the wide diversity of human relational needs, including sexual ones, and how they may evolve over time. These novels help me stay out of the ‘shoulds’ and recognize that health and happiness in any given relationship is defined by the people in it, much more than society’s gaze on them.” Romance helps me stand in solidarity.

How could I do romance better?
–I think the last time I did something romantic may have been before I had kids. I can be more intentional. Better late than never.

How do we romance well as a society?

Alive, well, and strong. As I write this, “Red, White, and Royal Blue” plays on an adjacent window on main-stream TV. It’s a male/male, enemies to lovers story with achingly vulnerable heroes, full open mouth kissing, and sex scenes as steamy as American general TV will allow, based on the 2019 novel by Casey McQuiston. We’ve come a long way, baby.
Stories are how we relate. We ask our elders about their meet cutes, and romanticize them through the rosey lenses of nostalgia. Ideals of romance thrive in our imaginations and acts of love all over the world, every day, between humans regardless of distinguishing features. They thrive despite forces out to choke and beat them out of some of us. Our romantic ideals keep us hopeful.

How could we do it better?

Keep making progress. Looking back in history, we see periods when people were more and less free to express their romantic love for each other than we are today. Human generations live in tiresomely redundant cycles, and we too seldom recognize the ironies that constrain us–puritanical and hypersexualized, taboo and underground, struggling for authenticity and smothered by conformity. Artists know the truth. Hand them the brushes and the bullhorns; hold them up as they speak for us, risking themselves, until we find our stronger, more inclusive and loving collective voice.

I have learned this past year to dramatically expand my definition and application of romance, romantic love, and romantic ideals, in all dimensions of life. I don’t mean throwing away logic and rationality and just submitting to lust and hedonic pleasures. Rather, I advocate for embracing and accepting humans’ fundamental drive for meaningful emotional connection in all its forms. The sooner we fully address these needs up front and out loud, in private and public, the sooner our rational minds are freed to solve problems, rather than futilely suppressing complex feelings and relationships.

ONWARD.

Presence

Posted on November 18, 2023 by Catherine Cheng, MD

It is not the same as appearance.

Presence is energy. Like sound, it has a frequency and an amplitude. Like light, it has a wavelength. Presence is sensed; it is felt.

What does your presence feel like to others? How does it change according to context, mood, and other factors? When are you aware of it yourself, and how do you modulate it, if at all?

Whose presence do you crave? Who soothes, comforts, uplifts, encourages, and quiets you, simply by being with you? Whose presence do you carry even when you’re apart, because it helps? How do you do it? Whose presence do you avoid? Why? What do these people teach you about yourself?

How do I already presence well?
–I make eye contact; I shake hands enthusiastically. I’m relaxed, open, and friendly. I can have a conversation with practically anyone, as long as we share a language. I am comfortable with people in general, which makes people comfortable with me.
–I’m a fantastic hugger.
–“I’m mostly peace love and light, and a little go fuck yourself.” My friendly and open personality does not make me a pushover. I do not tolerate disrespect or abuse, of myself, my family, or my work teams. I call it out civilly and if the behavior continues, I consider carefully and end relationships without regret.
–I’m good at 看臉色 ‘kan lian se’ literally ‘seeing facial color’ in Chinese—meaning to attune to people’s nonverbal cues. I can adjust my posture, tone of voice, facial expressions, and language to match my counterparts.
–Most of the time I think I balance confidence/competence well with humility. Strong back, soft front. If this is how people experience me, then I’m happy.

How could I show up better?
–People have told me I come on too strong, that my energy is too high. I can be loud and animated. I gesticulate. I could do better sometimes attuning to my surroundings and toning it down as needed.
–In certain situations and with certain people, my confidence wobbles. I second guess myself and may come across as weak, unsure, unreliable. I can get tongue tied and flustered. This makes me easy to bully and manipulate. It happens much less frequently with age, but I still feel vulnerable to it sometimes. Deep breathing in the moment helps a lot, and also lengthening my spine.

How do we evaluate presence as a society, and what makes it good?

Smiling Strangers. “You’re so friendly, Cathy, you must be from the Midwest,” said the boy from the East Coast, just as I’m thinking people here look at me like I have two heads when I’m friendly. In Colorado, however, people still smile and say hi to perfect strangers in public. It just makes my day, really. Do these folks realize how much their smiles mean to me? To anybody? Do you yours?

The Helpers. Nurses. Social workers. Teachers. Therapists. Charity workers. Volunteers. Moms. Doctors. Who else, especially in your life right now? Come to think of it, is there any profession or work that could not be thought of as helping? We may not always be in a good mood. We are too often exhausted, spent; too many of us are burned out right now. And still, we show up. We help. At our best, when our presence connects us in sincere service, it makes us all better.

How can we be present better to one another collectively?

Love First. If we have any love in us, how can we pull it up and out, put it in front, and show up for ourselves and others leading with it? Easier said than done. And we won’t be able to do it all the time. Let’s try harder anyway, ya?

Attune and Differentiate. Know yourself. Honor yourself. Show up all you. We can each own all of our strengths, our optimal resonance frequencies, our brightest light. Stand up straight and strong. Then, decide which petals of our identity flower to lead with, discern the context and respond appropriately. This is not about hiding parts of ourselves, rather mindfully showing up to connect, however it works best for us and those around us.

Lead and follow by example: Amplify. When you get feedback that your presence helps someone, take the compliment graciously. When someone’s presence benefits you, let them know. Positive reinforcement–rewarding desired behaviors–is one of the most effective ways to help the behavior recur. Look out for the good, amplify it–the sound and the light.

Honest, mindful, authentic presence. How much better could everything be if we were to offer this more often to more people, ourselves included?

Talismans of Love

Posted on October 23, 2023 by Catherine Cheng, MD

Barack Obama carries around charms in his pockets. People give him things when they meet him–little tokens, trinkets, you might say–offered with admiration and meaning, to feel connected. What would we expect a world leader to do with such bits and pieces? He keeps them in a bowl and every day picks a handful to tuck close, to remind him, he says, of why he does what he does. He writes about it in the memoir of his first term, A Promised Land, which I cannot recommend highly enough. What does it say about a man of such high status, who intentionally holds the well wishes of regular people on his person every day? I see it as profound humility and groundedness; I admire it and aspire to cultivate such qualities myself.

What talismans of love do you carry, visible and not?

My senior year of high school, after volleyball season ended, I started wearing one of my mom’s rings from her teen years. When it broke I replaced it with another gold band, another gift from a family member. When I started med school and had some money, I bought an intentional replacement, one with a bamboo motif, signifying my Chinese family roots. Now I also see it as a symbol of strength and flexibility, two practices I value highly, and which Ma exemplifies. I still wear my ‘one breath’ ring, and upgraded to a more solid yin-yang band. Like my wedding rings, these pieces stay on 24/7; if you find me down, you will still/already know some things about me.

When I travel, I wear a necklace with four pendants: Son’s and Daughter’s birthstones, and each of their passions. When Son left for college I got him a keychain admonishing, “Have Fun, Be Safe, Make Good Decisions, Call Your Mother.” He left it at home, but when I text him ‘HaFuBeSaMaGoDe’ he knows what I mean. It’s a shortcut. A reminder. A way to stay connected across time and distance.

Rosaries, malas, crosses, heirlooms. Poems, paper scraps, letters.
Wedding rings. Tattoos.

Symbols. Representations. Expressions, signals. This is what matters to me, the talismans say. We feel seen when someone notices, acknowledges, and admires, reminded again of our choice to mark ourselves. The objects and signs communicate visually, tactilely, beyond what speech can convey. It’s almost visceral.

Comfort. Power. Hope. Agency. Meaningful objects remind us of our core values, direction, and purpose. We get to choose our symbols’ meaning. It may or may not matter whether/how others understand them; they are for ourselves and those with whom we bond over shared significance. We rub, clench, kiss, and hold them, often in the hardest, lowest times of our lives.

What if we try harder to notice and admire one another’s talismans? Get curious and ask the bearers to share their stories, and practice kind, reverent presence with it? How might that make things just a little better?