Lesbian Love Tips From Seagulls

Many of the people I work with have been out dating in what I often call the lesbian seas.

They’re courageous. Open-hearted. Willing to love.
And more than a few of them have been stung.

They come to coaching after relationships that were both beautiful and painful, connections that shimmered on the surface but carried hidden barbs underneath. By the time they reach shore, they’re often tired, unsure, and wondering how to stay open without getting hurt again.

This morning, sitting on the beach at sunrise, I watched the seagulls gather in soft circles near the shoreline.

They were flying with such grace,  hovering and spinning gently above the coastline, seeking food, and wisely choosing not to throw themselves into danger.

They knew which currents were theirs to ride, and which were better observed from the air or from shore.

Nearby, many Portuguese man o’ war had washed in with the incoming eastbound winds.

Translucent. Striking. Adrift in the sand, with an almost otherworldly beauty.

And deeply painful, too, if you don’t know what you’re looking at.

That’s what discernment in love looks like.
Not closing your heart.
Not forcing yourself back into the water before you’re ready.

But learning how to recognize what is nourishing — and what might require distance, information, or protection.

In my coaching work, some of the central skills we practice are:

• How to move with intimacy intelligently

• How to trust your sensitivity without letting it be exploited

• How to read the relational waters before diving in

Watching the seagulls this morning, I was reminded that wisdom doesn’t rush.
It hovers. It observes. It chooses.

When we allow ourselves the same spaciousness, we often discover that we already know which currents are ours to ride.