Poetry 141: The Practice

The Practice

 

Every deliberate step

I take,

loosens the firm grip

on a piece of

me that no longer

serves.

Every breath

I take, releases

the disembodied

parts of me that

no longer sustain.

Every time I sit

for more than

a minute--in that

precious posture of

integrity--

I let go of my-Self

for at least

one minute more.

I may never

truly know

the experience

of emptiness, but I

can continue to

empty my cup.

That’s the

practice.

 

-Me

Forgiving Our Ancestors Part VII: Unintentional Harm

Sometimes I wonder if my kids will ever truly be able to understand me (neurosis and all...) without really understanding my own parents.

But then I think, to really understand my parents, my kids would actually have to have some understanding of my parents' parents.

Then again, to understand my grandparents, then frankly my kids would need to have some understanding of my great-grandparents.

And so forth...

This photograph was taken of one of my 4 great-grandmothers.

Her name was Sarah, she was born at the end of the 19th century in the northern midwestern United States, and I never met her.

My grandmother, a complex woman who could be both fascinating and cruel, was born in 1911, and was the eldest of Sarah's 4 children.
 

And if you fast forward to the end of my grandmother's life when both of her younger sisters opted out of attending their own sister's funeral in January of 1997, you have to wonder: What the hell happened there?
 

The truth is, I will never know...
 

But looking at this photograph of Sarah, I see a very serious and proper woman.  
 

One who I know taught elementary education and wrote her name on the inside cover of her hardback copies of William Shakespeare's plays. A woman who did not allow one drop of liquor into her home, I believe never once traveled out of the state where she was born and raised, and always kept an impeccable vegetable garden.
 

My grandmother on the other hand...began drinking everyday at about 1 p.m. for her entire adult life. She began to travel out of the country beginning in college when she took a ship to Cuba and later Europe and Africa. And she never planted a garden- in fact I don't really remember her even eating vegetables.
 

In short, I think my grandmother and her mother, my great-grandmother Sarah, were very different sorts of women, and I wonder how those differences played themselves out in the life of their relationship and in the life of the family where my grandmother's two younger sisters were watching all of the drama unfold before them.
 

[Here is a clue, my grandmother's nickname was "Queenie."]
 

Having been one of the very few people in attendance at my grandmother's funeral on that cold and snowy winter day almost 22 years ago with neither of her sisters in sight, if I had to venture a guess, I'd say there was a lot of hurt and a lot of misunderstanding, that culminated into a fair amount of harm all around.
 

But the thing is, my intuition tells me, that most of the harm was unintentional and unknowing.
 

I think the "un" intentional and the "un" knowing part matters for 2 reasons.
 

Number one, the difference between glaringly malicious and carelessly unthoughtful, is in fact a real difference.  And the way one might go about healing from either one would vary significantly based on that "intent."
 

And two, I think it is important to note that there is real harm that can be had, even when the person is unaware of the harm that they are inflicting because harm matters, whether it is intended or not.

For this area of forgiveness, I often turn to one of my favorite western Buddhist authors and teachers Jack Kornfield because he has spoken and written extensively on this topic, and also authentically shared pieces of his own personal healing journey with his family members including his complicated relationship with his own father.

On Mr. Kornfield's website, he writes this about forgiveness:

We have all betrayed and hurt others, just as we knowingly or unknowingly have been harmed by them.  It is inevitable in this human realm.  Sometimes our betrayals are small, sometimes terrible. Extending and receiving forgiveness is essential for redemption from our past.

Knowingly and unknowingly.  Both matter. Both require healing.

But what I like about Jack Kornfield's take on forgiveness as a path to healing is he does not approach it with a sort of moral high-ground or "have to" of any kind. 

He writes:

In Buddhist psychology, forgiveness is not presented as a moral commandment; thou shalt forgive. It is understood as way to end suffering, to bring dignity and harmony to our life.  Forgiveness is fundamentally for our own sake, for our own mental health. It is a way to let go of the pain we carry.

I wish my ancestors had been able to let go of some of the pain that they carried- for some of them, literally to the grave.

Because the truth is, whatever pain and hurt (both intentional and unintentional) that is not processed, is more often than not just passed down to the next generation.  In that way, the choice to lean in toward forgiveness, could be viewed as a gift or offering to those future generations because it increases the likelihood that the very same negative and harmful family patterns will not continue to replicate themselves in our children, and our children's children.

Again, Jack Kornfield:

Forgiveness sees wisely.  It willingly acknowledges what is unjust, harmful, and wrong. It bravely recognizes the sufferings of the past, and understands the conditions that brought them about.  There is a strength to forgiveness.  When we forgive we can also say, 'Never again will I allow these things to happen.' We may resolve to never again permit such harm to come to ourselves or another.

However, I think forgiveness is one of those "easier said than done" kind of deals.

This means, if you are anything like me, forgiveness of both intentional and unintentional harm may require vigilant practice and regular effort to turn the mind back toward the road of forgiveness each an every time it has detoured far off into resentment-land.

Below I have included some meditation phrases  that I myself have found helpful, and may or may not work for you on your own self-healing journey of forgiveness.

Either way, may we both find the freedom and inner peace that we may be seeking.

May it be so.

Meditation Phrases to Practice Forgiveness:

+ I am sorry for whatever hurt I have caused you knowingly or unknowingly, I ask for your forgiveness.

+ For the ways I have knowingly or unknowingly harmed myself, I forgive myself.

+ For the harm and hurt you have caused me, intentionally or unintentionally, I forgive you.

Spiritual Lessons From Nature Part XIII: Adaptation

About a month ago I was hiking in the woods at a nearby game refuge, and I saw this tree living inside a wall of rock.

Although I had been walking at a rather fast pace (for me anyway...), the sight of the tree in the rock stopped me short.

I thought to myself,

How on earth--quite literally in this case--did that tree adapt to such living conditions as to grow out of the cold, hard stone?

As I thought this, I stood in awe.

You see, adaptation has never been my forte.

Unlike the tree, when I find myself in unwanted or challenging situations, I have tremendous difficulty making that pivot into accepting life on life's terms.

It's not for lack of wanting though.

I fully embrace the idea that acceptance and adaptation bring greater freedom and even liberation- I just find it so hard to actually do it.

Which is why I admired the tree, and even my 10 year-old cat who was recently able to adapt as well when a new kitten named Aurora took up residence in her house.

I do have some theories about why it is difficult for me though- in other words, insight.

One of those theories is: resentment.

Resentment most surely negatively impacts my ability to adapt to life's natural unfolding.

Yet nature (trees and animals and the smallest organisms on the planet) has lessons to teach me about another way to live.

I wrote recently that I've been reading 20th century Dutch author, theologian and professor, Henri Nouwen, and in his book Spiritual Formation: Following the Movements of the Spirit he told this story:

I met an old priest who said to me: 'I complained for too long that my work was constantly being interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work'...

He then went on to describe the lesson of resentment in this story:

Resentment is exactly the complaint that life does not unfold the way we planned; that our many goals and projects are constantly interrupted by the events of the hour, the day, and the year; and that there is no choice other than to become the passive victim of random incidents and happenstance...

It seems to me that the antidote to resentment, may very well be adaptation.

Adaptation, and according to Henri Nouwen (if you want to be a spiritual over-achiever perhaps...), maybe even gratitude.

He wrote:

Resentment makes us blind to God's carving hand, but gratitude helps us recognize the process- that slowly but surely, we are being formed into a beautiful work of art; that we are being prepared to be a person who can offer our own pains as a source of healing for others.

So let us try today.

Let us try to adapt to our unfolding lives by releasing some of those resentments, and maybe even opening ourselves up to a little bit of gratitude.

May it be so.

The Pain of Waking Up Part I: The Self

Waking up to our patterns of thinking and behaving can be very, very painful.

I have some recent experience with this.

It wasn't that I learned something new about myself that I had never realized or considered before on a cognitive level, I had.

But I'm talking about the kind of waking up when you see your ineffective and unskillful patterns at both a cognitive level and an emotional level; when you embody the awakening. 

The primary type of meditation that I practice is called Vipassana or "Insight" meditation. 

An online article from Tricycle Magazine titled: "What Exactly is Vipassana Meditation" defines this type of meditation like this:

Vipassana can be translated as 'Insight,' a clear awareness of exactly what is happening as it happens.

I must say, due to recent events, I was briefly reconsidering if this is in fact the type of meditation that I would like to pursue. (That was a joke...but kinda not.)

Because "clear awareness" during moments of sadness, grief, rage, loss, and disappointment can at times feel excruciating.

Western Buddhist teacher and author Jack Kornfield wrote in his 2008 book The Wise Heart: A Guide to the Universal Teachings of Buddhist Psychology that:

Buddhists were actually the first cognitive-behavioral therapists.

As a trained Cognitive Behavioral therapist myself, I wholeheartedly agree with this statement.

Just consider the following statement from the 1st century BCE Buddhist text, The Dhammapada:

Speak and act from unwise thoughts, and sorrow will follow you as  surely as the wheel follows the ox who draws the cart.  Speak and act from wise thoughts and happiness will follow you as closely as your shadow, unshakable.

If this is true, and in my experience it is, then what if the "unwise thought" is more like a core belief like: I am unimportant. I am insignificant. I am unworthy. What would be the behaviors that follow?

This is how I understand and apply the Buddhist concept of karma.

I know it can and does mean so much more, but what I have found most helpful (so far) is that everything has a cause, and everything that has a cause, has an effect.

Take for example, this idea I was introduced to about a year ago:

Hustling for worthiness.

This is a Brene Brown concept, and I have done this...A lot.

Of course most people have become familiar with Brene Brown's social research on emotions like shame, vulnerability, courage, and belonging through her Ted Talks and books, as have I, but I hadn't yet heard this specific turn of phrase.

It was the word "hustling" that got me the most because it implies this rather inauthentic, game-like, wheeling-and-dealing effort to get a very basic human need--worthiness--met.

When I read it, I shamefully thought to myself, "oh god, I do that all the time," and boy did I feel the pain of waking up in that moment.

In that moment I realized, "hustling for worthiness" was my karma.

Or in other words, there were causes--unmet needs--and this behavior was the effect.

As I said before, waking up can be painful.

Although, there are places and spaces for the wayward pilgrim on the path of spiritual awakening to take refuge from this at times arduous journey.

Most recently I've been taking solace in another book by the 20th century Dutch theologian and professor Henri Nouwen called Spiritual Formation: Following the Movements of the Spirit.

I've resonated with a particular section called "Am I a Rock or a Dancer" in the chapter called: From Resentment to Gratitude.

In it he writes:

I once saw a stonecutter remove great pieces from a huge rock on which he was working. In my imagination I thought, 'That rock must be hurting terribly. Why does this man wound the rock so much?' But as I looked longer, I saw the figure of a graceful dancer emerge gradually from the stone.

Personally, I don't want to be a slab of cold, gray rock.  No insight. No self-awareness. No awareness of other. No wisdom. No ability to recognize when I fall into my old habit of "hustling for worthiness."

I want to be the dancer.

In fact, even I, who feels each piece of rock falling away that exposes a shoulder, a hand, a cheek most painfully, can see that there is a gift in there.

Not to mix metaphors, but the insight that can come from one of those moments of awakening can feel like the most glorious and unexpected football interception, late in the game, that even the player him or herself could not have anticipated.

In this way, waking up is most literally a gamechanger.

So, I will continue to allow for the pain of waking up, but I will also look out for the gifts it may yield.

May it be so.

Kindred Spirits: Helen Keller

I recently read Helen Keller's 1903 essay entitled: "Optimism."

In it, I found in this most well-known 20th century American figure, a kindred spirit that I never knew existed, as it included her perspective and philosophy on the over-all goodness and possibility of  our human nature, while holding the reality of  our worst human suffering.

She writes: 

It is a mistake always to contemplate the good and ignore the evil, because by making people neglectful it lets in disaster. There is a dangerous optimism of ignorance and indifference...

A man must understand evil and be acquainted with sorrow before he can write himself an optimist and expect others to believe that he has reason for the faith that is in him.

 

The essay itself is broken down into 3 parts:

Part I Optimism Within,
Part II Optimism Without, &
Part III The Practice  of Optimism.

Of this, I have to say, I love the idea of a woman born in the 19th century contemplating and writing about the complex nature and interaction of both her internal world and her external world, and her own participation in both.

I think it is important to note as well, that I believe Helen Keller used the word "optimism" in a very expansive way that it was part world-view, part philosophy, part political perspective, and part religious belief that had a mystical quality to it in regards to union or communion with God.

Reading this essay, I was personally moved by the bold and progressive vision of Helen Keller for not only1903, but also for 2018--115 years later--when we live in an era of self-proclaimed Nationalism by the current President of the United States.

She writes:

Out of the fierce struggle and turmoil of contending systems and powers I see a brighter spiritual era slowly emerge- an era in which there shall be no England, no France, no Germany, no America, no this people or that, but one family, the human race; one law, peace; one need, harmony; one means, labor; one taskmaster, God.

I think context is important for the essay too, because the fact that the author herself was the daughter and granddaughter of a Confederate soldiers who was born and raised on a southern plantation, added to my appreciation as it challenged my own residual stereotypes of what I might associate with that particular American cultural background.

 

Plus, and this is just a bonus for me, Helen Keller references the great 19th century American figure Ralph Waldo Emerson several times in her essay which only added to my joyous connection with her because this was not the Helen Keller I once knew.

Growing up in the United States, almost all children are introduced to the near mythical story of Helen Keller by the 3rd grade.  

The story of an American girl born in Alabama in 1880 who became deaf and blind at the age of 19 months, but then went on to be a prominent and powerful progressive the world over in the fight for justice and equality for women, laborers, and of course people with disabilities.

But very unfortunately, for most kids in the United States, including myself, Helen Keller's story  peaks and then fades out at the near beginning of her amazing life when she had her most famous communication breakthrough in 1887 when her teacher, Anne Sullivan, taught her the name for "water" while running cool water over young Helen's hand.

Of course at the time of her publication of "Optimism" in 1903, Helen Keller was still only 23 years-old, and would ultimately go on to be the first deaf-blind person to earn a Bachelor of Arts college degree, publish a total of 12 books and multiple articles, co-found the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), and be awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

But before all of these incredible accomplishments and accolades, Helen Keller wrote this brief essay, which to me was not just an encounter with: "Helen Keller" the "mythical figure," but more so in this piece: "Helen Keller" the "spiritual human soul."

So enjoy the following selected excerpts from "Optimism" if you please, or better yet, consider reading the entire essay through on your own time.  It would be time well spent.

Part I: Optimism Within

Most people measure their happiness in terms of physical pleasures and material possession.  Could they win some visible goal which they have set on the horizon, how happy they would be!  Lacking this gift or that circumstance, they would be miserable.  If happiness is to be so measured, I who cannot hear or see have every reason to sit in a corner with folded hands and weep. If I am happy in spite of my deprivations, if my happiness is so deep that it is a faith, so thoughtful that it becomes a philosophy of life- if, in short, I am an optimist, my testimony to the creed of optimism is worth hearing.

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Darkness cannot shut me in again.  I have had a glimpse of the shore, and can now live by the hope of reaching it.

 

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A poet once said I must be happy because I did not see the bare, cold present, but lived in a beautiful dream.  I do live in a beautiful dream; but that dream is the actual, the present,- not cold, but warm; not bare, but furnished with a thousand blessings.  The very evil which the poet supposed would be a cruel disillusionment is necessary to the fullest knowledge of joy.  Only by contact with evil could I have learned to feel by contrast the beauty of truth and love and goodness.

 

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I distrust the rash optimism in this country that cries, 'Hurrah, we're all right! This is the greatest nation on earth,' when there are grievances that call loudly for redress. That is false optimism.

 

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I know what evil is. Once or twice I have wrestled with it, and for a time felt its chilling touch on my life; so I speak with knowledge when I say that evil is of no consequence, except as a sort of mental gymnastic. For the very reason that I have come in contact with it, I am more truly an optimist.  I can say with conviction that the struggle which evil necessitates is one of the greatest blessings.  It makes us strong, patient, helpful men and women.  It lets us into the soul of things and teaches us that although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it.  My optimism, then, does not rest on the absence of evil, but on the glad belief in the preponderance of good and a willing effort always to cooperate with the good, that it may prevail.

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I try to increase the power God has given me to see the best in everything and every one, and make that Best a part of my life.

 

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The world is sown with good; but unless I turn my glad thoughts into practical living and till my own field, I cannot reap a kernel of the good.

 

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I am never discouraged by absence of good. I never can be argued into hopelessness.  Doubt and mistrust are the mere panic of timid imagination, which the steadfast heart will conquer, and the large mind transcend.

 

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My share in the work of the world may be limited; but the fact that it is work makes it precious.  Nay, the desire and will to work is optimism itself.

 

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I long to accomplish a great and noble task; but it is my chief duty and joy to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble.

 

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[John Richard] Green, the historian, tells us that the world is moved along, not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes, but also by the aggregate of the tiny pushes of each honest worker; and that thought alone suffices to guide me in this dark world and wide.  I love the good that others do; for their activity is an assurance that whether I can help or not, the true and the good will stand sure.

 

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I recognize the beneficence of the power which we all worship as supreme- Order, Fate, the Great Spirit, Nature, God. I recognize this power in the sun that makes all things grow and keeps life afoot. I make a friend of this indefinable force, and straightway I feel glad, brave and ready for any lot Heaven may decree for me. This is my religion of optimism.

 

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Part II: Optimism Without

 

A deaf-blind person ought to find special meaning in Plato's Ideal World.  These things which you see and hear and touch are not the reality of realities, but imperfect manifestations of the Idea, the Principle, the Spiritual; the Idea is the truth, the rest is delusion.

 

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Philosophy gives to the mind the prerogative of seeing truth, and bears us into a realm where I, who am blind, am not different from you who see.

 

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The meaning of philosophy to me is not only in its principles, but also in the happy isolation of its great expounders...Sitting alone, but not in darkness, they learned to find everything in themselves, and failing to find it even there, they still trusted in meeting the truth face to face when they should leave the earth behind and become partakers in the wisdom of God. The great mystics lived alone, deaf and blind, but dwelling with God.

 

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Deep, solemn optimism, it seems to me, should spring from this firm belief in the presence of God in the individual; not a remote, unapproachable governor of the universe, but a God who is very near every one of us, who is present not only in earth, sea and sky, but also in every pure and noble impulse of our hearts, 'the source and centre of all minds, their only point of rest.'

 

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Though with my hand I grasp only a small part of the universe, with my spirit I see the whole, and in my thought I can compass the beneficent laws by which it is governed.  The confidence and trust which these conceptions inspire teach me to rest safe in my life as in a fate, and protect me from spectral doubts and fears.  Verily, blessed are ye that have not seen, and yet have believed.

 

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All the world's great philosophers have been lovers of God and believers in man's inner goodness.  To know the history of philosophy is to know that the highest thinkers of the ages, the seers of the tribes and the nations, have been optimists.

 

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The growth of philosophy is the story of man's spiritual life.

 

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In the world within and the world without I see a wonderful correspondence, a glorious symbolism which reveals the human and the divine communing together, the lessen of philosophy repeated in fact.  In all the parts that compose the history of mankind hides the spirit of good, and gives meaning to the whole.

 

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...Progress of evolution is not an interrupted march.

 

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The student of to-day is not asked if he has learned his grammar. Is he a mere grammar-machine, a dry catalogue of scientific facts, or has he acquired the qualities of manliness? His supreme lesson is to grapple with great public questions, to keep his mind hospitable to new ideas and new views of truth, to restore the finer ideals that are lost sight of in the struggle for wealth and to promote justice between man and man.

 

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Do you wonder that I am full of hope and lifted up?

 

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The highest result of education is tolerance.  Long ago men fought nd died for their faith; but it took ages to teach them the other kind of courage,- the courage to recognize the faiths of their brethren and their rights of conscience.  Tolerance is the first principle in community.

 

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No loss by flood and lightning, no destruction of cities nd temples by the hostile forces of nature, has deprived man of so many noble lives and impulses as those which his intolerance has destroyed.

 

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With wonder and sorrow I go back in thought to the ages of intolerance and bigotry.

 

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I see the clouds part slowly, and I hear a cry of protest against the bigot. The restraining hand of tolerance is laid upon the inquisitor, and the humanist utters a message of peace to the persecuted.

 

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The centenary celebrations of the births of Emerson and Channing are beautiful examples of the tribute which men of all creeds pay to the memory of a pure soul.

 

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Thus in my outlook upon our times I find that I am glad to be a citizen of the world, and as I regard my country, I find that to be an American is to be an optimist.

 

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...The best intelligence of the people sometimes fails to express itself.

 

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I rejoice to see in the world and in this country a new and better patriotism than that which seeks the life of an enemy.  It is a patriotism higher than that of the battle-field.

 

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Part III: The Practice of Optimism

 

If it be true that optimism compels the world forward, and pessimism retards it, then it is dangerous to propagate a pessimistic philosophy.

 

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If I regarded my life from the point of view of the pessimist, I should be undone.

 

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But since I consider it a duty to myself and to others to be happy, I escape a misery worse than any physical deprivation.

 

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Who shall dare let his incapacity for hope or goodness cast a shadow upon the courage of those who bear their burdens as if they were privileges?

 

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He [the optimist] will take the iron claws of circumstance in his hand and use them as tools to break away the obstacles that block his path.

 

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Behold what the optimist does. He controverts a hard legal axiom; he looks behind the dull impassive clay and sees a human soul in bondage, and quietly, resolutely sets about its deliverance.

 

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No pessimist ever discovered the secrets of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new heaven to the human spirit.

 

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Thus the optimist believes, attempts, achieves. He stands always in the sunlight. Some day the wonderful, the inexpressible, arrives and shines upon him, and he is there to welcome it.  His soul meets his own and beats a glad march to every new discovery, every fresh victory over difficulties, every addition to human knowledge and happiness.

 

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Discord is, that harmony may be; pain destroys, that health may renew; perhaps I am deaf and blind that others likewise afflicted may see and hear with a more perfect sense!

 

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Life up you burden, it is God's gift, bear it nobly.

 

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I remember an hour when I was discouraged and ready to falter. For days I had been begging away at a task which refused to get itself accomplished. In the midst of perplexity I read an essay...I tried again with new courage and succeeded almost before I knew it. I have failed many times since.

 

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Every optimist moves along with progress and hastens it, while every pessimist would keep the world at a standstill.  The consequence of pessimism in the life of a nation is the same as in the life of the individual. Pessimism kills the instinct that urges men to struggle against poverty, ignorance and crime, and dries up all the fountains of joy in the world.

 

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If I had been born in the midst of these fatalistic doctrines, I should still be in darkness, my life a desertland where no caravan of thought might pass between my spirit and the world beyond.

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Optimism is a faith that leads to achievement; nothing can be done without hope.

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But the world turns its back on a hopeless prophet and listens to Emerson who takes into account the best qualities of the nation and attacks only the vices which no one can defend or deny.  It listens to the strong man, Lincoln, who in times of doubt, trouble and need does not falter. He sees success afar, and by strenuous hope, by hoping against hope, inspires a nation.  Through the night of despair he says, 'All is well,' and thousands rest in his confidence.

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The press is the pulpit of the modern world.

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When in his [Lincoln's] rough and ready way he said, 'You can't fool all the people all the time,' he expressed a great principle, the doctrine of faith in human nature.

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His [Jesus Christ] joyous optimism is like water to feverish lips, and has for its highest expression  the eight beatitudes.

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St. Paul, too, taught the faith which looks beyond the hardest things into the infinite horizon of heaven, when all limitations are lost in the light of perfect understanding.

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Jesus utters and Paul proclaims a message of peace and a message of reason, a belief in the Idea, not in things, in love, not in conquest.  The optimist is he who sees that men's actions are directed not by squadrons and armies, but by moral power, that the conquests of Alexander and Napoleon are less abiding than Newton's and Galileo's and St. Augustine's silent mastery of the world.

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Although there are still great evils which have not been subdued, and the optimist is not blind to them, yet he is full of hope.

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I believe we should so act that we ma draw nearer and more near the age when no man shall live at his ease while another suffers.

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Optimism is the harmony between man's spirit and the spirit of God pronouncing His works good.

Poetry 140: Dear Emerson

Dear Emerson

Dear Mr. Emerson

I took a walk with
you today-
you with your
walking stick, I
with mine.

(Though I struggled to
keep up with
your long-legged
strides.)

When we spoke,
you filled me in
on Mr. Alcott's
most recent shenanigans
and brilliance.
And I filled you in
on my mother's.

We both laughed
about the odd
and substantial
sizes of our noses.

You shared with me
like a friend,
who had the intelligence
and the worthiness
to confide these parts
of ourselves without
pride or shame.

I needed that.

As always,
you did more
listening than
speaking, which
I deeply appreciated.

It felt like kindness,
patience and
acceptance.

I needed that too.

When we reached
the summit,
neither of us spoke.

We both just
looked out over the
autumn New England
landscape and
listened to the breeze
move through the
tall pines
that surrounded us.

It felt like
letting go.

I needed that the most.

Take good care
Mr. Emerson.

I will see you
again soon.

-Me

"I" People & "We" People: Finding a Middle Path

Are you an "I" person 

or a "We" person?

What do I mean by "I" people and "We" people, you ask.

Let me explain.

My husband and I have been married for 13 years, and we have been together for 25 years.  And in that time, we have come to know on the most intimate level that my husband was born into a "We" family and I was born into an "I" family.

Or, to put it into a political analogy, my husband's family would be communist (the group is more important than the individual) and my family would be libertarian (the individual is more important than the group).

This diverse cultural reality has had all kinds of real world ramifications for our relationship and our families- for example, when under stress I tend to crave solitude but my husband tends to crave togetherness.  So, as you can imagine, with our family origins being at complete opposite ends of the "I" - "We" spectrum in terms of the value placed on the individual versus the value placed on the group, we've had our share of miscommunications and misunderstandings over the 2+ decades of our relationship.

Having said that, our diverse origins have also allowed us to see the positive and negative in prioritizing the individual above all else, and the positive and negative in prioritizing the group above all else because we have each had this bird's eye view of "the other side."

Of course too, what we both find amusing, is this difference between us is all relative.

Because when I am at an event with only my family of origin, it is me who looks like the "We" person, and when my husband is at an event with his only his family of origin, he actually looks like an "I" person.

In other words, context matters when you are looking at a spectrum of ideologies.

Which is why after all these years together, my husband and I have come to believe that the way forward is a Middle Path.

The "Middle Path" is a Buddhist term regarding the Eightfold Path of the Buddha.  But we do not use the term in that way.

What we mean is a reference to, and a reminder to ourselves to avoid the rigidity of extreme ideologies or beliefs in our marriage and in our family life.

Because the truth is: there is a time to prioritize the group and there is a time to prioritize the individual.  Both are valid. Both are true.  That is the dialectic.

And I must add, as my husband and I very imperfectly walk this "I-We" Middle Path together, we make all kinds of what our 9 year-old son would call "epic failures."

Or, in more plain terms, it's messy.

But I have to say, I still like trying.  I like our efforting.

This past weekend, in a particularly messy moment of this walk toward a Middle Path, I had this image of my husband and my marriage as a microcosm for the larger "I-We" tension in our very real-life tug-of-war geo-politics going on nationally in the United States and globally, and I thought to myself: 

It's worth the struggle and the effort to try to figure out how we can harmonize these apparent polar opposite truths into a synthesis that carries even more wisdom than the individual truths do by themselves.

So let's keep walking together.

May it be so.

Poetry 139: Loving Like God

Loving Like God

 

I wish human

beings could

love the way

that god does.

 

Without all of

those preexisting

conditions

of worth and value.

 

I wonder,

would such

a thing be

possible?

 

So fragile and

exquisitely

sensitive we all are.

 

Always needing to

adjust ourselves

for just a smidge

more comfort and

fraction more

satisfaction.

 

Always personalizing,

projecting , fearing,

and resenting

our way through

relationships.

 

So, so

worried we all are

that our wants

and needs

might not be met

in the exact moment

that we

require them;

or worse,

stripped away

from us by

some dehumanized

Other.

 

But god,

she just says:

Come here girl.

I got you.

Just lay your head

down. Rest.

Then we will

try again.

 

It’s not that

god is a martyr-

like Shel’s

most beloved

Giving Tree.

 

To be sure,

in cosmic terms,

I am the equivalent of

a speck, on a speck,

on a speck.

 

And yet,

most curiously,

I matter.

 

I,

matter.

 

What kind of

miracle

is that?

 

If only

people could

love like

god does…

What kind of

earthly world

would that be?

 

-Me

 

(p.s. If you live in the United States, and are willing and able, don't forget to vote today!)