I got this bracelet in the mail today, and there's a funny synchronicity to it for me. There's a lady who sells jewelry and I got a necklace from her the very first time I was in NYC. I got that necklace as a reminder of what it was I could accomplish if only I believed. So when she was having a sale, I looked at her website and found a bracelet that was interesting, except that she'd already sold it. She offered to make me one like it, and sent me pictures of turquoise stones. I could select one for the centerpiece of the bracelet.
There was one that attracted me most in the photos. Photos are a funny thing, they only show you one side to things. So when I received the bracelet today, I saw that the stone I selected was there, but there was another side to the piece, and on that other side, another turquoise, with a visible crack dividing it that someone had repaired, putting the two pieces back together.
There was a time, my perfectionistic era, that I would not have worn something broken, thinking that somehow it's brokenness might rub off on me and then I might be broken, too.
Prior to receiving it and seeing this, I'd been mulling on the idea that in life, when we have our brokenness, we can't often see the other side to things. Like the full moon tonight, we have only illuminated before us one side. It's clearly visible and some say it makes us crazy, this full moon. But I appreciate it simply for reminding me that the circle in the night sky is actually a sphere. Even in seeing it's full circle face, I know that there is another side that I cannot see from my perspective.
So getting the bracelet today, with the two sided turquoise stones, I am reminded that the brokenness of one side does not discount the fact that there is another side to this that is whole and complete. We sometimes focus our attention so exclusively on the brokenness that we neglect to consider the other side of it.
And when I flip the stone to reveal the stone with it's alluring wholeness, I need to honor the side not seen, but important nonetheless. It's in our brokenness that we are made whole and complete, for without it we would fail to recognize what wholeness could be.
How is it that we overlook the beauty of brokenness? I am struck by the fact that the craftsperson who made the two sided piece took the time and care to lovingly put the pieces back together. In truth, what the stone was before it broke was beautiful in it's depth of color. Did the person realize this and honor it's beauty beyond the fractured state? It takes an artist's eye to see the beauty in the flaws.
We all have them, these flaws and broken moments. I've yet to meet a person who's had none. It's what we do with these that matters. Do we eschew them, cast them away from us? Or do we give ourselves the loving care to piece a life back together? Can we see beyond the imperfection in order to see the grace and beauty that exists and willfully and mindfully restore ourselves to whole?
I love this bracelet, as it serves as a reminder of what was and is, and how there is another side to this, like the moon, that I have to believe exists without actually seeing it.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Whatever It Takes
Tonight I'm wearing a ring that has a diamond in it that was my great aunt, Pelagia's. It was from her wedding ring when she married in 1928. She was called Pela by her family growing up, until she got her social security number in order to work, when they gave her a more "American" sounding name. I grew up knowing her by that other name, that was not her own. I only discovered it wasn't her real name some 30 years later.
I do genealogy, and I have pictures of Pela that I inherited after she passed on. In those pictures, she is holding babies, and the look on her face is one of pure expectation and joy. She loved babies and wanted many of her own. It never turned out that she could have any. As I wear this ring and look at the pictures of her youth, I'm struck by the unexpected turns in life and where it takes us.
The fact that I'm wearing this ring at all is the result of unexpected turns. Pela was my godmother, and my half-brother Renfisher was my godfather, back in 1966. She thought she was too old to be a godmother to anyone, and encouraged mother Main to find someone younger. My mother was adamant it should be her.
I grew up hearing my mother's take on family stories. There was a big rift between Pela and several other family members, where she, according to accounts, willfully cut off several of our family, never to speak to them again. This loomed large in my mother's narrative, possibly because it happened in her youth and she was closer to the family members it impacted. As it turned out, at her funeral, I was the only biological family member there.
She tried to cut me out of her life at one point, too. Not for an infraction or due to any animosity between us, but because she felt she was too old, and that I needed to get on with my life. I was more stubborn than she was, and simply told her no. She'd have to try harder if she was getting me out of her life, I told her, and she left it at that.
So I'm wearing this ring with the 82 year old diamond of hers, and thinking of what 82 years all means, and the unexpected turns we have in our lives all means. Pela didn't have the children she wanted, and cut off a great deal of her family, yet she was one of the most nurturing and loving of people I knew.
I certainly didn't expect to be wearing her diamond. What had happened was that after she passed, there was a bidding war for it. Someone outside the family who was a dear and wonderful friend to my aunt had wanted it, and my grandmother, Pela's sister in law, said no. She was absolutely adamant about it. It needed to stay in the family, she said:
"Bid on it," she said.
"How much?" I asked.
"Whatever it takes," she responded.
Now, as I am sitting here with it, years after the fact, I'm thinking that's what we do when we are faced with the unexpected turns of life. Life throws down the gauntlet and challenges us, and we in turn, need to do whatever it takes.
In Pela's case, while she couldn't have children of her own, she nurtured some things in me that allowed me to grow in the direction that I have. That in turn has helped me to give a good life to my son and I, despite the ever-shifting changes that life has to offer. In a way, the things she gave me, both tangible and intangible, have helped more people in this world than what she might have done parenting a half dozen children, if she'd been able to do so. By my account, her grace, wisdom, and freedom of thought have helped nigh on a thousand people, through my ability to "pay it forward."
I don't wear this ring often, and I have to ask myself why. I think I associated it with hopes and dreams she had on her wedding day that never came to pass. Or of dreams her friend had of having it for herself that also didn't come to pass. When things don't come about the way that we hope and envision them to be, is that a loss or a gift? I guess it all comes down to the perspective we take, and our ability to do whatever it takes in the end.
I do genealogy, and I have pictures of Pela that I inherited after she passed on. In those pictures, she is holding babies, and the look on her face is one of pure expectation and joy. She loved babies and wanted many of her own. It never turned out that she could have any. As I wear this ring and look at the pictures of her youth, I'm struck by the unexpected turns in life and where it takes us.
The fact that I'm wearing this ring at all is the result of unexpected turns. Pela was my godmother, and my half-brother Renfisher was my godfather, back in 1966. She thought she was too old to be a godmother to anyone, and encouraged mother Main to find someone younger. My mother was adamant it should be her.
I grew up hearing my mother's take on family stories. There was a big rift between Pela and several other family members, where she, according to accounts, willfully cut off several of our family, never to speak to them again. This loomed large in my mother's narrative, possibly because it happened in her youth and she was closer to the family members it impacted. As it turned out, at her funeral, I was the only biological family member there.
She tried to cut me out of her life at one point, too. Not for an infraction or due to any animosity between us, but because she felt she was too old, and that I needed to get on with my life. I was more stubborn than she was, and simply told her no. She'd have to try harder if she was getting me out of her life, I told her, and she left it at that.
So I'm wearing this ring with the 82 year old diamond of hers, and thinking of what 82 years all means, and the unexpected turns we have in our lives all means. Pela didn't have the children she wanted, and cut off a great deal of her family, yet she was one of the most nurturing and loving of people I knew.
I certainly didn't expect to be wearing her diamond. What had happened was that after she passed, there was a bidding war for it. Someone outside the family who was a dear and wonderful friend to my aunt had wanted it, and my grandmother, Pela's sister in law, said no. She was absolutely adamant about it. It needed to stay in the family, she said:
"Bid on it," she said.
"How much?" I asked.
"Whatever it takes," she responded.
Now, as I am sitting here with it, years after the fact, I'm thinking that's what we do when we are faced with the unexpected turns of life. Life throws down the gauntlet and challenges us, and we in turn, need to do whatever it takes.
In Pela's case, while she couldn't have children of her own, she nurtured some things in me that allowed me to grow in the direction that I have. That in turn has helped me to give a good life to my son and I, despite the ever-shifting changes that life has to offer. In a way, the things she gave me, both tangible and intangible, have helped more people in this world than what she might have done parenting a half dozen children, if she'd been able to do so. By my account, her grace, wisdom, and freedom of thought have helped nigh on a thousand people, through my ability to "pay it forward."
I don't wear this ring often, and I have to ask myself why. I think I associated it with hopes and dreams she had on her wedding day that never came to pass. Or of dreams her friend had of having it for herself that also didn't come to pass. When things don't come about the way that we hope and envision them to be, is that a loss or a gift? I guess it all comes down to the perspective we take, and our ability to do whatever it takes in the end.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
I Don't Buy Into the Myth of Your Power
Hello Blog Readers,
I had an interesting day today, where I realized something critical about myself (but by no means self-critical)! So, thought I'd share it in case you can relate.
There are occasions in my life (thankfully, rare) that I've encountered people who've taken a passionate dislike to and mistrust of me, when I've given them no logical reason to do so. I think I've encountered perhaps 4 or 5 of them, and it usually blindsides me, because I haven't done anything in particular to warrant their reaction to me.
Usually, it goes something like this - I meet the person, they find me so outrageously awful, that they seek by whatever means necessary, to down me, take me out of the game, as it were. This is usually characterized by some level of subterfuge on their part, sneaking around backrooms, gossiping behind closed doors, and laying plans for my destruction. My typical reaction is shock, surprise and a little bit of "Where the hell did that come from??? That doesn't even make sense."
When we encounter these people, it usually involves a great investment of our personal energy to survive their character assassination attempts. In the moment of dealing with it, once we realize it's happening, it's easy to get tunnel vision around it or start to generalize out and think that everybody is out to get us. I'd advise against that, because unless you're Osama Bin Laden, it's not true. Besides, even he's got some friends somewhere, otherwise, how would he remain in hiding? It just smacks of paranoia, and paranoia is not good.
Because these folks are the exception and not the norm, it's been difficult for me to track their characteristics in order to anticipate when I might encounter one...That is, until tonight. I was talking with someone about this and decided I finally had enough encounters with this sort to form a pattern. The pattern could be about me, and likely it is to the extent that I have little tolerance for them, and they instinctively know it.
They are the people who are in love with the myth of their own power. They like power and seek out ways to cultivate it and grow it, much the same way that I grow my garden. They seek out positions in order to maintain that power, and will do everything and anything to maximize it. Any questioning of their myth of power results in swift retaliation and the development of a plan to down the questioner. I don't buy into the myth of their power and therefore become dangerous in their world.
The Cherokee have this thing called the "Booger Dance" which is a dance that would occur where the people would dress like something called a "Booger" and dance out the people's greatest fears. It was ribald and raunchy at times, and they might wear masks carved to represent fearsome aspects of whatever challenged the people. It might be a mask representing disease, or the characteristics of a fearsome spirit, or even, later after the immigration of the Europeans (aka invasion), the masks might represent European faces. At least, this is my understanding from books, never having seen a Booger Dance myself.
I think at times for these folks who love the myth of their power, I become the Booger, dancing out their greatest fears, being that they are not all-powerful. They reach that conclusion simply because I don't buy into their omnipotent power, and therefore they feel that they need to demonstrate it through mysterious ways. Perhaps because that's how they experience the power of the Creator, that it's mysterious, full of subterfuge and sneaks up on you. Therefore, being the Creator of their Myth of Power themselves, they they enact it in such a fashion.
I often don't realize I'm dancing this out before them, because I don't recognize them right off, or haven't, historically. Their power is in reality, a myth, because authentic power has no need for such tactics. Authentic power is unafraid of exposure and directness. Perhaps that is what I dance out more frequently than I realize: Authentic Power. People who don't believe they have it are either in awe of it or a little bit afraid of it. But people who are in love with the myth of their own power somewhere along the line relinquished authenticity for the construction of a myth. I don't know where or how, nor do I particularly care.
What I do care about is making sure that I don't miss it again, next time it rears its ugly head. As I've looked back on it, the single thought I've had that's been consistent in these encounters is "How did I get that much power?" It's usually in reference to hearing about their backroom character assassination attempts, or seeing their attempts to down me. It seems incredulous to me that I might be that important to invest such efforts in taking me out, which is why I ask myself that.
So, now I'm onto them, and maybe you can be, too!
I had an interesting day today, where I realized something critical about myself (but by no means self-critical)! So, thought I'd share it in case you can relate.
There are occasions in my life (thankfully, rare) that I've encountered people who've taken a passionate dislike to and mistrust of me, when I've given them no logical reason to do so. I think I've encountered perhaps 4 or 5 of them, and it usually blindsides me, because I haven't done anything in particular to warrant their reaction to me.
Usually, it goes something like this - I meet the person, they find me so outrageously awful, that they seek by whatever means necessary, to down me, take me out of the game, as it were. This is usually characterized by some level of subterfuge on their part, sneaking around backrooms, gossiping behind closed doors, and laying plans for my destruction. My typical reaction is shock, surprise and a little bit of "Where the hell did that come from??? That doesn't even make sense."
When we encounter these people, it usually involves a great investment of our personal energy to survive their character assassination attempts. In the moment of dealing with it, once we realize it's happening, it's easy to get tunnel vision around it or start to generalize out and think that everybody is out to get us. I'd advise against that, because unless you're Osama Bin Laden, it's not true. Besides, even he's got some friends somewhere, otherwise, how would he remain in hiding? It just smacks of paranoia, and paranoia is not good.
Because these folks are the exception and not the norm, it's been difficult for me to track their characteristics in order to anticipate when I might encounter one...That is, until tonight. I was talking with someone about this and decided I finally had enough encounters with this sort to form a pattern. The pattern could be about me, and likely it is to the extent that I have little tolerance for them, and they instinctively know it.
They are the people who are in love with the myth of their own power. They like power and seek out ways to cultivate it and grow it, much the same way that I grow my garden. They seek out positions in order to maintain that power, and will do everything and anything to maximize it. Any questioning of their myth of power results in swift retaliation and the development of a plan to down the questioner. I don't buy into the myth of their power and therefore become dangerous in their world.
The Cherokee have this thing called the "Booger Dance" which is a dance that would occur where the people would dress like something called a "Booger" and dance out the people's greatest fears. It was ribald and raunchy at times, and they might wear masks carved to represent fearsome aspects of whatever challenged the people. It might be a mask representing disease, or the characteristics of a fearsome spirit, or even, later after the immigration of the Europeans (aka invasion), the masks might represent European faces. At least, this is my understanding from books, never having seen a Booger Dance myself.
I think at times for these folks who love the myth of their power, I become the Booger, dancing out their greatest fears, being that they are not all-powerful. They reach that conclusion simply because I don't buy into their omnipotent power, and therefore they feel that they need to demonstrate it through mysterious ways. Perhaps because that's how they experience the power of the Creator, that it's mysterious, full of subterfuge and sneaks up on you. Therefore, being the Creator of their Myth of Power themselves, they they enact it in such a fashion.
I often don't realize I'm dancing this out before them, because I don't recognize them right off, or haven't, historically. Their power is in reality, a myth, because authentic power has no need for such tactics. Authentic power is unafraid of exposure and directness. Perhaps that is what I dance out more frequently than I realize: Authentic Power. People who don't believe they have it are either in awe of it or a little bit afraid of it. But people who are in love with the myth of their own power somewhere along the line relinquished authenticity for the construction of a myth. I don't know where or how, nor do I particularly care.
What I do care about is making sure that I don't miss it again, next time it rears its ugly head. As I've looked back on it, the single thought I've had that's been consistent in these encounters is "How did I get that much power?" It's usually in reference to hearing about their backroom character assassination attempts, or seeing their attempts to down me. It seems incredulous to me that I might be that important to invest such efforts in taking me out, which is why I ask myself that.
So, now I'm onto them, and maybe you can be, too!
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Jungle, and a Life of Meaning
Some of my family worked in the Chicago Stockyards, back around the turn of the last century. They slaughtered the hogs, worked in unsanitary conditions, and one of them died there in a horrible accident.
As a young person, maybe 13, they gave us The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair, to read. It characterized what some of my ancestors went through, and was written by an activist, hoping to draw awareness to the conditions. Upton Sinclair became my de facto hero. He opened up a whole world to me, both in terms of understanding where we came from and lived through, and also, where we draw our power...
Here's one of my favorite passages from The Jungle:
"It is very imprudent, it is tragic – but, ah, it is so beautiful! Bit by bit these poor people have given up everything else; but to this they cling with all the power of their souls – they cannot give up the veselija! To do that would mean, not merely to be defeated, but to acknowledge defeat – and the difference between these two things is what keeps the world going. The veselija has come down to them from a far-off time; and the meaning of it was that one might dwell within the cave and gaze upon shadows, provided only that once in his lifetime he could break his chains, and feel his wings, and behold the sun; provided that once in his lifetime he might testify to the fact that life, with all its cares and its terrors, is no such great thing after all, but merely a bubble upon the surface of a river, a thing that one may toss about and play with as a juggler tosses his golden balls, a thing that one may quaff, like a goblet of rare red wine. Thus having known himself for the master of things, a man could go back to his toil and live upon the memory all his days."
I'm looking at that passage now, and thinking of how it might relate to me (or any one of us) today. The Veselija in the passage was a traditional Lithuanian wedding feast, and so Sinclair is talking about celebration and tradition.
If, in our times of greatest oppression or sorrow, we lose our ability to celebrate using our traditions, we have lost it all. He talks of the difference between defeat and acknowledging defeat. We can, on all counts, be defeated, but if we acknowledge it, we may well lose everything. Life being no great thing at all, seems to me to mean more precisely that the struggles we encounter in life are really no great thing at all, despite how we may feel about them.
He speaks of traditions, that allow us to return to the flow of life, having simply lived it through celebration. Rejecting the acknowledgement of defeat, it seems to me is to be taking one's power back.
For example, if you have a terrible situation that you are in, it can create tunnel vision, where all that you can see is the bad that is happening or has happened. Over time, the bad begins to define your experience and perhaps even your life. In doing so, it takes the power from you, the power to be happy, to have a sense of peace, contentment and wholeness about you. Soon, all perspective is lost.
If instead, you turn back to said terrible situation and refused to allow it to define you any longer, refused to acknowledge defeat, you might find yourself celebrating the everyday moments, or even the special traditions of your respective culture.
Not everything has to be a wedding feast - we can find the daily moments, or we can find the special traditions and enact them. Doing this defies the concept of defeat. Cling to this with all the power of your soul! Celebrate using your traditions!
So, I'm going to do the happy dance of being a traditional Cherokee woman, knowing our power, and laughing in the face of such supposed big, scary things that life waves before my face. Not that we actually have a happy dance, but I feel empowered to make one up. Regardless, in my celebration, I am going to embrace what it means to be me, and revel in it with abandon!
How about you? What are YOU going to do?
As a young person, maybe 13, they gave us The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair, to read. It characterized what some of my ancestors went through, and was written by an activist, hoping to draw awareness to the conditions. Upton Sinclair became my de facto hero. He opened up a whole world to me, both in terms of understanding where we came from and lived through, and also, where we draw our power...
Here's one of my favorite passages from The Jungle:
"It is very imprudent, it is tragic – but, ah, it is so beautiful! Bit by bit these poor people have given up everything else; but to this they cling with all the power of their souls – they cannot give up the veselija! To do that would mean, not merely to be defeated, but to acknowledge defeat – and the difference between these two things is what keeps the world going. The veselija has come down to them from a far-off time; and the meaning of it was that one might dwell within the cave and gaze upon shadows, provided only that once in his lifetime he could break his chains, and feel his wings, and behold the sun; provided that once in his lifetime he might testify to the fact that life, with all its cares and its terrors, is no such great thing after all, but merely a bubble upon the surface of a river, a thing that one may toss about and play with as a juggler tosses his golden balls, a thing that one may quaff, like a goblet of rare red wine. Thus having known himself for the master of things, a man could go back to his toil and live upon the memory all his days."
I'm looking at that passage now, and thinking of how it might relate to me (or any one of us) today. The Veselija in the passage was a traditional Lithuanian wedding feast, and so Sinclair is talking about celebration and tradition.
If, in our times of greatest oppression or sorrow, we lose our ability to celebrate using our traditions, we have lost it all. He talks of the difference between defeat and acknowledging defeat. We can, on all counts, be defeated, but if we acknowledge it, we may well lose everything. Life being no great thing at all, seems to me to mean more precisely that the struggles we encounter in life are really no great thing at all, despite how we may feel about them.
He speaks of traditions, that allow us to return to the flow of life, having simply lived it through celebration. Rejecting the acknowledgement of defeat, it seems to me is to be taking one's power back.
For example, if you have a terrible situation that you are in, it can create tunnel vision, where all that you can see is the bad that is happening or has happened. Over time, the bad begins to define your experience and perhaps even your life. In doing so, it takes the power from you, the power to be happy, to have a sense of peace, contentment and wholeness about you. Soon, all perspective is lost.
If instead, you turn back to said terrible situation and refused to allow it to define you any longer, refused to acknowledge defeat, you might find yourself celebrating the everyday moments, or even the special traditions of your respective culture.
Not everything has to be a wedding feast - we can find the daily moments, or we can find the special traditions and enact them. Doing this defies the concept of defeat. Cling to this with all the power of your soul! Celebrate using your traditions!
So, I'm going to do the happy dance of being a traditional Cherokee woman, knowing our power, and laughing in the face of such supposed big, scary things that life waves before my face. Not that we actually have a happy dance, but I feel empowered to make one up. Regardless, in my celebration, I am going to embrace what it means to be me, and revel in it with abandon!
How about you? What are YOU going to do?
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Belief , Faith and Chaos
I'm relaxing now, and have been in the mood to do a mental exercise I do from time to time. I reflect on a word that describes something I've experienced and I look the definition of that word up. If I've experienced it, you'd assume I know the meaning - but I think concepts such as words are sometimes like the facets of a diamond. There are many different angles that it can be seen from.
So tonight it was "chaos." I came to a place with the definitions that I found where I posted the following FB status:
"In order for chaos to exist, we have to believe in predictability. The degree to which we have faith in predictability determines how chaotic we find our circumstances to be. What if we had faith in WHAT IS, rather than what we'd like it to be?"
Where I was going with it was that a lot of times we say things like "I have faith that it will all work out," or "I have faith in my God/Creator/Higher Power," etc. and yet when things don't work out as we'd anticipated they would, we may suddenly find ourselves thrown into chaos. However, the chaos is really because the anticipation we had of what we thought would happen was ruined. So how is it that we give such power to anticipation, rather than to that origin from which we had our initial faith?
When I say "I have faith that it will all work out" I usually mean that I've got a belief that however it all works out, whether in my favor or not, I will find meaning and a way to make sense of what happened in retrospect. So in other words, I don't give power over to my anticipation, or what I think I want to happen. I anticipate anything might happen, and work with WHAT IS when it happens.
But here it gets interesting...I just looked up belief and faith and found quite a bit of difference - faith requires a level of certitude (certainty) whereas belief appears to begin with a phenomenon and seeks out evidence to confirm or refute the truth of the matter. So might it be said that faith maintains a certainty of truth, but belief seeks out the truth?
So what does that mean when I say that I have faith in my Creator? Usually when people say that, it's related to an outcome of anticipated events, typically assumed to be of a potentially negative nature. There's some level of expectation there, placed on whatever or whomever a person calls their God.
I don't know that it's right for me to have such expectations of my Creator. I mean, wasn't it enough that I was given the gift of life? The whole idea of having expectations that my Creator's going to take the presumed negative out of my life gives me pause. I'm envisioning it as if "God is my Quarterback and He's gonna take you, (it) down!" Somehow, it doesn't feel right, or fit with my relationship to a Creator/God/Higher Power.
What if the WHAT IS, the impending chaos, is just a gift from said Creator in the first place? It's difficult when you feel you're in the middle of it to take the long view on what gifts come from it.
I rather think that I will change the language that I use going forward. If I were to say "I have a belief that it will all work out" it means that I will seek evidence for it all working out, and seek out the truth beyond the chaos.
It may be closer to the truth for me to say "I believe in the Creator." In looking up the word "believe" I discovered that discovered that the Old English origin of the word means several things, including "to allow" and possibly "dear" as it relates to love and affection.
It would be nice to think of allowing the Creator into my life, in a loving, affectionate way. I much prefer that image to the quarterback one!
In considering it that way, then too, might I lovingly allow what challenges I'm given, that at the time feel very chaotic? If I were to do that, is it possible that I would see WHAT IS in a circular fashion, rather than the straight on view of the diamond that only allows me to see one facet of it? Might the gifts of WHAT IS then become more apparent?
While, admittedly, this all sounds like heady, esoteric thinking, let's bring it to a practical level. Were we only to stay in our one position thinking in relation to chaos, we could easily miss the gifts due to our frustration that what we thought would happen didn't. Those gifts exist and were created exclusively for us, based on something the Creator/God/Higher Power feels that we NEED. If we don't see the gifts in order to claim them for our own, we are still missing something that we need.
So what happens then? I believe we seek it out in the externals and escapism that is rampant in our society. Some seek out that fulfillment or gift in relationships, hoping the other person will give it to them. Others seek it out in drugs, alcohol, high risk behaviors, hoping to fill the void or give them an experience. LIFE IS AN EXPERIENCE. We don't have to seek it out or create new drama in order to have an experience. It is WHAT IS. Some will fall prey to seeking it out in the idolization of pop stars, rock stars, movie stars. The list is seemingly endless...
So, if we don't seek out and claim our gifts, we seek fulfillment other places. One last word look up - the word, "fulfill" - means in Old English "to fill" and the definition of it talks of "to make full, to put into effect..." and, (my favorite):
"to convert into reality..to develop the full potentialities of..."
We can't convert into reality or develop the full potentialities of ourselves by expecting our fulfillment to come due to externals and escapism. It just doesn't work. Why doesn't it work? Because of the error of our faith in the predictability that we can get it externally at all. When we don't (and it will happen), it throws us into chaos because we expected a different outcome.
Well, those are some lengthy thoughts to ponder - FB friends, if you've read this far (bless you for your persistence! LOL) What's your take on it?
(All definitions found at Merriam Webster online dictionary)
So tonight it was "chaos." I came to a place with the definitions that I found where I posted the following FB status:
"In order for chaos to exist, we have to believe in predictability. The degree to which we have faith in predictability determines how chaotic we find our circumstances to be. What if we had faith in WHAT IS, rather than what we'd like it to be?"
Where I was going with it was that a lot of times we say things like "I have faith that it will all work out," or "I have faith in my God/Creator/Higher Power," etc. and yet when things don't work out as we'd anticipated they would, we may suddenly find ourselves thrown into chaos. However, the chaos is really because the anticipation we had of what we thought would happen was ruined. So how is it that we give such power to anticipation, rather than to that origin from which we had our initial faith?
When I say "I have faith that it will all work out" I usually mean that I've got a belief that however it all works out, whether in my favor or not, I will find meaning and a way to make sense of what happened in retrospect. So in other words, I don't give power over to my anticipation, or what I think I want to happen. I anticipate anything might happen, and work with WHAT IS when it happens.
But here it gets interesting...I just looked up belief and faith and found quite a bit of difference - faith requires a level of certitude (certainty) whereas belief appears to begin with a phenomenon and seeks out evidence to confirm or refute the truth of the matter. So might it be said that faith maintains a certainty of truth, but belief seeks out the truth?
So what does that mean when I say that I have faith in my Creator? Usually when people say that, it's related to an outcome of anticipated events, typically assumed to be of a potentially negative nature. There's some level of expectation there, placed on whatever or whomever a person calls their God.
I don't know that it's right for me to have such expectations of my Creator. I mean, wasn't it enough that I was given the gift of life? The whole idea of having expectations that my Creator's going to take the presumed negative out of my life gives me pause. I'm envisioning it as if "God is my Quarterback and He's gonna take you, (it) down!" Somehow, it doesn't feel right, or fit with my relationship to a Creator/God/Higher Power.
What if the WHAT IS, the impending chaos, is just a gift from said Creator in the first place? It's difficult when you feel you're in the middle of it to take the long view on what gifts come from it.
I rather think that I will change the language that I use going forward. If I were to say "I have a belief that it will all work out" it means that I will seek evidence for it all working out, and seek out the truth beyond the chaos.
It may be closer to the truth for me to say "I believe in the Creator." In looking up the word "believe" I discovered that discovered that the Old English origin of the word means several things, including "to allow" and possibly "dear" as it relates to love and affection.
It would be nice to think of allowing the Creator into my life, in a loving, affectionate way. I much prefer that image to the quarterback one!
In considering it that way, then too, might I lovingly allow what challenges I'm given, that at the time feel very chaotic? If I were to do that, is it possible that I would see WHAT IS in a circular fashion, rather than the straight on view of the diamond that only allows me to see one facet of it? Might the gifts of WHAT IS then become more apparent?
While, admittedly, this all sounds like heady, esoteric thinking, let's bring it to a practical level. Were we only to stay in our one position thinking in relation to chaos, we could easily miss the gifts due to our frustration that what we thought would happen didn't. Those gifts exist and were created exclusively for us, based on something the Creator/God/Higher Power feels that we NEED. If we don't see the gifts in order to claim them for our own, we are still missing something that we need.
So what happens then? I believe we seek it out in the externals and escapism that is rampant in our society. Some seek out that fulfillment or gift in relationships, hoping the other person will give it to them. Others seek it out in drugs, alcohol, high risk behaviors, hoping to fill the void or give them an experience. LIFE IS AN EXPERIENCE. We don't have to seek it out or create new drama in order to have an experience. It is WHAT IS. Some will fall prey to seeking it out in the idolization of pop stars, rock stars, movie stars. The list is seemingly endless...
So, if we don't seek out and claim our gifts, we seek fulfillment other places. One last word look up - the word, "fulfill" - means in Old English "to fill" and the definition of it talks of "to make full, to put into effect..." and, (my favorite):
"to convert into reality..to develop the full potentialities of..."
We can't convert into reality or develop the full potentialities of ourselves by expecting our fulfillment to come due to externals and escapism. It just doesn't work. Why doesn't it work? Because of the error of our faith in the predictability that we can get it externally at all. When we don't (and it will happen), it throws us into chaos because we expected a different outcome.
Well, those are some lengthy thoughts to ponder - FB friends, if you've read this far (bless you for your persistence! LOL) What's your take on it?
(All definitions found at Merriam Webster online dictionary)
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Life as a Work of Art
I was reading something today about viewing one's life as a work of art. What is it that we are creating and to what end?
When I was young, there wasn't much room to be creative and develop oneself as a work of art. The people I was raised by had the idea that I would be their work of art, created and fashioned a particular way and for a specific purpose that served their needs. Of course, I rebelled against being their pet project. For a time, I viewed my life as necesarily needing to be created in the service of what others would find artistic and otherwise pleasing.
I can say that this was dissatisfying and unhealthy. Modeling oneself and ones life to be a work of art pleasing to the general population just doesn't work. Everyone has different ideas of what you "should" be and how you "should" do it. Throw the "shoulds" straight out the window.
After that, there was a period of my life where the work of art I created was in opposition to and in reaction to the expectations of how my life ought to look by other people's standards. This was an empowering period, but not particularly efficient. I say efficient because at the stage I'm at now, I'm realizing that for life to be a work of art, there needs to be some efficiency or flow to the art that you are creating. If you're stuck in indecision, angst, or are otherwise struggling to create the art that is your life, it can bog you down quite a bit. There's some good thinking that comes from it, if it's a short term process. However, I've known a lot of people who get stuck in that process to the point where it defines them, and they never manifest their life, dreams and art. Instead, they're defined by the struggle.
Somehow, by the grace of whatever powers that be, I was able to move to the point of actually creating my life authentically as a work of art. It became efficient, flowing and beautiful. One day, I woke up to realize that people thought it was created and existed simply to serve their own needs and reality, and had no realization that the creative process I engaged in the get to the point I am now actually had a purpose beyond their myopic needs.
So I find myself facing this dilemma - here's me, my life as a work of art, and me living it. We're good so far, right? But when your art becomes the false idol for someone else, in order to maintain it, you need to isolate it and render it static instead of dynamic. In other words, there's a great risk of becoming your own stereotype or one dimensional icon.
Now, I find my self restoring a doorknob. Sounds crazy as all get out, but there it is. It's symbolic in so many ways for me. I picked it up after I got a lead from a wonderful FB friend, on reclaimed building parts. I've posted pictures of said doorknob up, in various stages of renovation. Why? It's somewhat symbolic of my process of reclaiming my life as a work of art. When all else is stripped away, what remains?
In my metaphor of the doorknob, I'm envisioning rebuilding a life and home piece by piece, starting with a doorknob, without having a tangible home for it. Doorknobs, by their nature, open doors, and this is mentally what I am doing, through the tangible restoration of the doorknob. In order to have a doorknob work, I've got to envision doors and places in my life I will open them or close them. I have to envision what I will welcome, versus what I will close out. Doors by definition lead into or out of shelter and I need to consider what that shelter will encompass.
I selected this doorknob because it's so old, likely around the 1880's, from some long gone building now. Who knows where it was, or the history behind it. Why go for something old when I'm creating something new? Because my life and it's history did not begin with me. I'm the result of the ancestors that came before me, and their history has formed a foundation in which my beginnings were created.
In particular the period this doorknob represents for me is one where I believe something significant happened in my family. It was around the time when my great great grandmother passed on, and with her, some of the stories of our Cherokee lineage. When she passed on, it appears she was one of the few links that we had to that part of our family. Some stories remained and were transmitted orally to descendants, while others were not given the same information. It's created something of a hole for our family, the missing information and stories. Yet, whether we know them all or not, there's a part of us that remains dynamically connected to who we are. We can't run from it or hide from it, because it's a part of our life as a work of art.
So, my process unfolding is to reach back to times before I was born, and reclaim a part of my own history. It starts with a doorknob and reclaiming my life and lineage as a work of art. The further I go into this process, the more I find myself, as opposed to the paint I've been stripping, stripped away, bit by bit, to get to my own core.
I've never been one to collect things or work on them for the purpose of display, so at some point, this doorknob will be on a door, all my own. In the process of getting to that place, perhaps the work of art I'm creating in my life will be seen more as authentically me and less as the projection of what other people need to see my art as. Or, perhaps it will always go that way, that when you create your life as a work of art, others will have their opinions and reactions. So long as my life isn't based on feeling compelled to respond to those opinions and reactions, I think it will be good.
When I was young, there wasn't much room to be creative and develop oneself as a work of art. The people I was raised by had the idea that I would be their work of art, created and fashioned a particular way and for a specific purpose that served their needs. Of course, I rebelled against being their pet project. For a time, I viewed my life as necesarily needing to be created in the service of what others would find artistic and otherwise pleasing.
I can say that this was dissatisfying and unhealthy. Modeling oneself and ones life to be a work of art pleasing to the general population just doesn't work. Everyone has different ideas of what you "should" be and how you "should" do it. Throw the "shoulds" straight out the window.
After that, there was a period of my life where the work of art I created was in opposition to and in reaction to the expectations of how my life ought to look by other people's standards. This was an empowering period, but not particularly efficient. I say efficient because at the stage I'm at now, I'm realizing that for life to be a work of art, there needs to be some efficiency or flow to the art that you are creating. If you're stuck in indecision, angst, or are otherwise struggling to create the art that is your life, it can bog you down quite a bit. There's some good thinking that comes from it, if it's a short term process. However, I've known a lot of people who get stuck in that process to the point where it defines them, and they never manifest their life, dreams and art. Instead, they're defined by the struggle.
Somehow, by the grace of whatever powers that be, I was able to move to the point of actually creating my life authentically as a work of art. It became efficient, flowing and beautiful. One day, I woke up to realize that people thought it was created and existed simply to serve their own needs and reality, and had no realization that the creative process I engaged in the get to the point I am now actually had a purpose beyond their myopic needs.
So I find myself facing this dilemma - here's me, my life as a work of art, and me living it. We're good so far, right? But when your art becomes the false idol for someone else, in order to maintain it, you need to isolate it and render it static instead of dynamic. In other words, there's a great risk of becoming your own stereotype or one dimensional icon.
Now, I find my self restoring a doorknob. Sounds crazy as all get out, but there it is. It's symbolic in so many ways for me. I picked it up after I got a lead from a wonderful FB friend, on reclaimed building parts. I've posted pictures of said doorknob up, in various stages of renovation. Why? It's somewhat symbolic of my process of reclaiming my life as a work of art. When all else is stripped away, what remains?
In my metaphor of the doorknob, I'm envisioning rebuilding a life and home piece by piece, starting with a doorknob, without having a tangible home for it. Doorknobs, by their nature, open doors, and this is mentally what I am doing, through the tangible restoration of the doorknob. In order to have a doorknob work, I've got to envision doors and places in my life I will open them or close them. I have to envision what I will welcome, versus what I will close out. Doors by definition lead into or out of shelter and I need to consider what that shelter will encompass.
I selected this doorknob because it's so old, likely around the 1880's, from some long gone building now. Who knows where it was, or the history behind it. Why go for something old when I'm creating something new? Because my life and it's history did not begin with me. I'm the result of the ancestors that came before me, and their history has formed a foundation in which my beginnings were created.
In particular the period this doorknob represents for me is one where I believe something significant happened in my family. It was around the time when my great great grandmother passed on, and with her, some of the stories of our Cherokee lineage. When she passed on, it appears she was one of the few links that we had to that part of our family. Some stories remained and were transmitted orally to descendants, while others were not given the same information. It's created something of a hole for our family, the missing information and stories. Yet, whether we know them all or not, there's a part of us that remains dynamically connected to who we are. We can't run from it or hide from it, because it's a part of our life as a work of art.
So, my process unfolding is to reach back to times before I was born, and reclaim a part of my own history. It starts with a doorknob and reclaiming my life and lineage as a work of art. The further I go into this process, the more I find myself, as opposed to the paint I've been stripping, stripped away, bit by bit, to get to my own core.
I've never been one to collect things or work on them for the purpose of display, so at some point, this doorknob will be on a door, all my own. In the process of getting to that place, perhaps the work of art I'm creating in my life will be seen more as authentically me and less as the projection of what other people need to see my art as. Or, perhaps it will always go that way, that when you create your life as a work of art, others will have their opinions and reactions. So long as my life isn't based on feeling compelled to respond to those opinions and reactions, I think it will be good.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Evolution
I've been thinking of this as recently as five minutes ago, so I may as well make a blog out of it.
Who are we, really, at our core? And how do we define ourselves?
I believe it's where we stand in relationship to our fears.
Ah, now that I've said that last part, I realize this has been an ongoing internal dialogue I've had for many years.
When I am talking about where we stand in relationship to our fears, I'm not advocating a particular brand of courage, but of perception. I believe a majority of humanity operates from a place of fear based motivation. Fears can dictate and drive a great deal of what we do and the actions we take, which become the building blocks of how we define ourselves.
When a seed is planted, it must grow through dirt and manure in the direction of the sun. It's got to have it's bit of rain and available nutrients from the soil that it will need. The whole time that it's growing, in the most vulnerable stages of emerging from the hull it's in, it must grow through this darkness and muck, initially not actually seeing the sun until it emerges from however deep it's planted. How does it know what direction to grow in, or that the sun is there at all? I believe it's an act of faith embedded in its core. A subtle design within the seed that gives it the ability to grow in the proper direction.
Some years ago, a woman sent me three seeds, telling me not all of them, or any of them, might grow. Being the citified girl I am, this disheartened me greatly, as I had lived under the illusion that all seeds must grow. Not all seeds do. I don't think I ever planted those seeds, for fear none of them would take. More recently, I received 6 endangered seeds, carefully nurtured them all in the same conditions, only to watch one of them grow into a plant.
I think as people, we assume it's the environment that creates the conditions that allow us to grow, and frequently blame factors in the environment for when things don't go our way. That gives over way more power to externals than I feel comfortable giving, quite frankly. And, as my seed experiment taught me, all receiving the same environment, conditions and nurturance, only one actually grew. Darwin might talk about this in terms of survival of the fittest in the evolution of a species, but that's not my take on it. I think the seeds that don't have a fear of growing and a fondness and comfort for their hulls.
I picture the angst of the seed, buried under the dirt, wondering if the effort is actually worth it. Break free of the hull, and you have no shell to protect you. You can't ungrow. It's unknown territory, insofar as a seed might be concerned. Why grow in the direction of something you can't see from the outset? What's out there anyway that might remotely be worth the effort?
As a person, I've had my comfort in the hull, as it were. I know the lure it had, back in the day. I remember the amount of energy I invested in justifying my stagnation. It really takes just as much effort to justify not growing as it does to actually grow, perhaps more. Here are a few:
"Hulls are fine, and I'm fine as I am."
"Life's really overrated."
If we don't meet life on life's terms, we aren't living, just justifying a hull of a life. I can't speak for the social aspects of seeds, but among people, there are those who will pull us toward a norm or social expectation. Their norm and their expectation. There's an element of choice involved on our part, although we're sometimes oblivious to it, due to our justifications to self and others. We want the safety of the hull, the safety of our companionship among the other non-growing seeds.
If I were to contemplate the social aspect of seeds, I imagine that when one breaks out of it's hull and begins to grow in the direction of the sun, the other five or so look over and the dialogue goes something like this:
"See Harry? Don't know why he'd go and ruin everything by breaking out of his shell. Bet he doesn't know what he's doing."
"Sally's kind of looking green and freakish these days, can't be good."
"John's really in the muck now! Serves him right."
For those seeds that remain static, without growth, a greater value is attributed to the hull and the mentality that maintains it. Those that grew have their story become a cautionary tale for those that elected not to, resplendent with myths to go along with it.
If you're meeting life on life's terms, then you've got to deal with facts, as opposed to myths and cautionary tales. Simultaneously growing through the muck, there's also an element of faith you must have in both your growth potential and that something is on the other side of this muck worth growing toward. To me and for me, that's evolution. No seed that grows or person that emerges from their hull, is without fears. It's where you stand in relation to them that's going to define you.
So where do you stand in relation to yours?
Who are we, really, at our core? And how do we define ourselves?
I believe it's where we stand in relationship to our fears.
Ah, now that I've said that last part, I realize this has been an ongoing internal dialogue I've had for many years.
When I am talking about where we stand in relationship to our fears, I'm not advocating a particular brand of courage, but of perception. I believe a majority of humanity operates from a place of fear based motivation. Fears can dictate and drive a great deal of what we do and the actions we take, which become the building blocks of how we define ourselves.
When a seed is planted, it must grow through dirt and manure in the direction of the sun. It's got to have it's bit of rain and available nutrients from the soil that it will need. The whole time that it's growing, in the most vulnerable stages of emerging from the hull it's in, it must grow through this darkness and muck, initially not actually seeing the sun until it emerges from however deep it's planted. How does it know what direction to grow in, or that the sun is there at all? I believe it's an act of faith embedded in its core. A subtle design within the seed that gives it the ability to grow in the proper direction.
Some years ago, a woman sent me three seeds, telling me not all of them, or any of them, might grow. Being the citified girl I am, this disheartened me greatly, as I had lived under the illusion that all seeds must grow. Not all seeds do. I don't think I ever planted those seeds, for fear none of them would take. More recently, I received 6 endangered seeds, carefully nurtured them all in the same conditions, only to watch one of them grow into a plant.
I think as people, we assume it's the environment that creates the conditions that allow us to grow, and frequently blame factors in the environment for when things don't go our way. That gives over way more power to externals than I feel comfortable giving, quite frankly. And, as my seed experiment taught me, all receiving the same environment, conditions and nurturance, only one actually grew. Darwin might talk about this in terms of survival of the fittest in the evolution of a species, but that's not my take on it. I think the seeds that don't have a fear of growing and a fondness and comfort for their hulls.
I picture the angst of the seed, buried under the dirt, wondering if the effort is actually worth it. Break free of the hull, and you have no shell to protect you. You can't ungrow. It's unknown territory, insofar as a seed might be concerned. Why grow in the direction of something you can't see from the outset? What's out there anyway that might remotely be worth the effort?
As a person, I've had my comfort in the hull, as it were. I know the lure it had, back in the day. I remember the amount of energy I invested in justifying my stagnation. It really takes just as much effort to justify not growing as it does to actually grow, perhaps more. Here are a few:
"Hulls are fine, and I'm fine as I am."
"Life's really overrated."
If we don't meet life on life's terms, we aren't living, just justifying a hull of a life. I can't speak for the social aspects of seeds, but among people, there are those who will pull us toward a norm or social expectation. Their norm and their expectation. There's an element of choice involved on our part, although we're sometimes oblivious to it, due to our justifications to self and others. We want the safety of the hull, the safety of our companionship among the other non-growing seeds.
If I were to contemplate the social aspect of seeds, I imagine that when one breaks out of it's hull and begins to grow in the direction of the sun, the other five or so look over and the dialogue goes something like this:
"See Harry? Don't know why he'd go and ruin everything by breaking out of his shell. Bet he doesn't know what he's doing."
"Sally's kind of looking green and freakish these days, can't be good."
"John's really in the muck now! Serves him right."
For those seeds that remain static, without growth, a greater value is attributed to the hull and the mentality that maintains it. Those that grew have their story become a cautionary tale for those that elected not to, resplendent with myths to go along with it.
If you're meeting life on life's terms, then you've got to deal with facts, as opposed to myths and cautionary tales. Simultaneously growing through the muck, there's also an element of faith you must have in both your growth potential and that something is on the other side of this muck worth growing toward. To me and for me, that's evolution. No seed that grows or person that emerges from their hull, is without fears. It's where you stand in relation to them that's going to define you.
So where do you stand in relation to yours?
I Get Worked Up Over Nuthin'
I had this interesting day where I was on the verge of bursting into tears throughout much of it. It really only turned around for me when two of my FB friendies called me a doll, a strong woman, and told me to go get what I needed to and be my Dirt Barbie self. I don't think they had any idea of what a seriously crappy mood I was in, and just how much I needed them to remind me of just how ambitious, determined and strong I am!
Post mini-meltdown, when I'd calmed sufficiently, I realized that I get worked up over things that don't really matter. Back in the day before HD TV, there used to be times when you'd flip through channels and just get the grey, buzzing screen. Sometimes there would be a broadcasting problem, and the static screen would appear.
Much of what I get worked up over is like that - the background buzz to an otherwise good life. One of the things I need to consistently remind myself during this phase of my existence is that the "good life" isn't defined by something stable outside of myself, but must be defined by stable factors within myself. This is what my lovely FB ladies were reminding me.
Thanks, dearest ones!
Post mini-meltdown, when I'd calmed sufficiently, I realized that I get worked up over things that don't really matter. Back in the day before HD TV, there used to be times when you'd flip through channels and just get the grey, buzzing screen. Sometimes there would be a broadcasting problem, and the static screen would appear.
Much of what I get worked up over is like that - the background buzz to an otherwise good life. One of the things I need to consistently remind myself during this phase of my existence is that the "good life" isn't defined by something stable outside of myself, but must be defined by stable factors within myself. This is what my lovely FB ladies were reminding me.
Thanks, dearest ones!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)