Second Thoughts on Life

It is Monday, the last day of January, 2011. Another month of my life is gone and I’m not sure I have much to show for it.  It doesn’t feel like I’m accomplishing much, doing really anything of consequence.  Friday night I had a long, wonderful conversation with a friend who is nearly 20 years younger than me. She was sharing some of the exciting events in her life and the dreams and goals she has for future accomplishments. She’s already accomplished much more in her short life than I have. I felt a longing for excitement and doing important things in my own life. But it was only momentary. I was able to be happy for her successes and cheer on her efforts but I realize that time of my life is past and I need to let go of trying to accomplish things. 

This is first-half of life thinking and I am definitely moving into the second half  of my life. I sometimes struggle to let those value judgments, those self-criticisms go. After a life-time of being productive, getting things done, having measurable accomplishments, fulfilling the needs of others, just being has got to be some of the most challenging work there is.  I have few outside forces congratulating me or directing me or encouraging me.  No one is telling me: “This is where you need to go next.” At this point my life feels like a wide, unmapped road and I have no idea where it might be going. This is unsettling. And it feels like a pretty lonely road sometimes. Most of my friends are still doing important work and very busy with their lives and careers. 

The conference I attended in Albuquerque the weekend before this last one focused on this time of life: the second half.  In notes I took during Richar Rohr’s introductory talk, he explained that the first half of life (according to Carl Jung) is the search for security, reproduction, survival. It is driven by the ego. It is a time for accomplishing the task we think is our main task , “me doing the work to save myself.” It is a necessary time to learn impulse control, but it is not the whole journey. At some point you begin to lay that burden down.

The second half of life, Rohr said, is the task within the task, the sacred dance and learning to let God lead that dance. If the first half of life is to learn to follow the Ten Commandments, the second half is to learn to follow the Beatitudes, to learn to be in union with God. I was struck at the synchronicity of having the Beatitudes as the Gospel at this past Sunday’s Mass.

It is good this morning to sit with those ideas and thoughts and accept the value of just being, just being present and aware, being grateful and accepting the gift of having this time.

This past Saturday I was invited to do a book reading/signing that my sister-in-law Brenda had set up in Olympia. We went to the home of her friend – a beautiful home on the shores of a lake. The hostess talked about seeing otters playing off her dock, of watching eagles and great horned owls. It wasn’t my dream “log cabin” on a lake, but it was a Northwest lodge style with massive timbers, a beautiful fireplace soaring up to the peak of the home. 

I sighed as I gazed out the window and realized that much as I would love a place like this, it is not in my deck of cards. It will have to be enough for me to visit others who have such homes. And it is. Just seeing beauty doesn’t mean I have to own it. It is one of my second-half of life lessons: you can appreciate others’ blessings without feeling envious, without feeling disappointed that you can’t have what they have. I still struggle with that in the relationship department when I see other couples my age together, but I try to remember that I was blessed with 33 years of a good, solid, loving partnership.

It was a wonderful time of sharing my journey and my book “42 States of Grace” with other women – I think there were close to 20 there. I sold and signed a few more books, many of the women already had the book. One of the most touching moments was when my 28-year-old niece told me how proud she was of me, and what a role model I was for her and others. Much as I tell myself I shouldn’t need affirmation, it still feels really good to know you are making even the tiniest of differences for a few people.

Even these tiniest steps that feel insignificant to us can make a difference in a much bigger picture. It is a picture we will likely never get to see all of in our lifetimes, an ongoing story that we only have a very minor role in.  As a reminder to myself, and all of you I found a couple of quotes I wanted to share that express this idea of all of us being a miniscule puzzle piece in a much more magnificent and amazing picture, but no matter how small, our piece of the puzzle is critical to helping complete and accomplish the entire work.

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.

Nothing we do is complete,
which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything,
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders;
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future that is not our own. Amen.  – Archbishop Oscar Romero

“In the torment of the insufficiency of everything attainable we eventually learn that here, in this life, all symphonies remain unfinished”  -- Karl Rahner, SJ

Golden Thoughts from Charlie

A couple years ago, when I was in the midst of a writing dry spell I let Charlie “write” a blog post, and apparently he got the blogging bug. A friend who spent several hours with Charlie this morning suggested when I picked him up that she thought Charlie might have something he wanted to “say” through the blog, and so once again I am letting Charlie woof his mind. So, without further ado, Charlie’s thoughts for today:

What a lucky dog I am -- sleeping on the couch and sharing my life with Spiderman!

Me and my boy Jesse cuddling

I am so glad I am a dog; after nearly nine years of living with them, I’ve come to the conclusion that being a human must be exhausting. 

First of all, I can cheerfully accept that I don’t have very much control, except for those all-too-rare times when I can get on the same wavelength as my “mom” and get her to understand what I want.  Even when I am able to communicate to her how badly I long for a walk, or to be petted/loved, or a treat, she gets to decide whether and when it actually happens. Often she doesn’t have the time or it’s not necessarily good for me (like when I show her how much I want to help sample her cooking or clean up the leftovers after dinner and she gets impatient with me). I accept that she calls the shots, forgive her and just go lie down somewhere (like on the couch; she lets me do that – see how lucky I am?) and take a nap, and I continue to love her anyway, no matter what she decides. Deep down I know I can trust her to do what’s right for me.  

And what wonderful walks I get to go on sometimes!

On the other hand, I have seen her get really upset or sad when things happen she doesn’t agree with or doesn’t like.  For some reason my love and acceptance of her, just the way she is, don’t seem to be enough for her. She sometimes wants validation from other people and, when she doesn’t get that or believes she doesn’t, she imagines people either don’t like or respect her or even notice her.  She sometimes seems to measure her value based on her perception of what other people think of her. Knowing how self-absorbed and complex all humans can be, this is really silly and, like I said, it must be exhausting!

Even as good as she is to me and as much as she loves me, I know sometimes she has bad days. If I measured my worth based on the times she scolds me for tearing up important papers, tracking in mud or stealing my boy Jesse’s food, I might be sad too. But I know enough to let those little hurts go and choose to focus on all the loving things she does for me and has done for me all my life.  The walks she takes me on, the petting, when she talks to me and we cuddle, that really big long joy-ride we took in the motor home – those are the things I think about and focus on, and they help me remember how much I am loved.  

Besides that, I know I am a dog. I am proud to be a dog – especially a golden retriever! I know that mom loves me and that, really, pretty much everyone loves me. If a few people or dogs don’t, I’m okay with that too, because I have plenty of love in my life. And I know that the Creator, Father Dog, the Great Coyote (we all have different names for Him/Her), thinks I am perfect just exactly the way I am because that’s how He made me.  I don’t need to do anything to earn love; really, it’s all over out there.  Love is in the tall grass I like to run through that gets burrs and seeds in my coat. It’s in the water I like to wade and swim in and even the rain puddles I splash through. It’s in the mud I roll in, the smells I sniff on my walks. Love is in my boy Jesse, his dad Karl, my friend Tom and all the rest of my family and friends and their dogs.  Love is even in the squirrels I get to chase.  It’s in the rain and the sun, certainly in my food and occasional treats. It’s just everywhere; I don’t even have to go look for it like I do the old bones I buried last summer.

Of course, I know I’m a lucky dog. I have a loving family, a warm home, enough food; many dogs aren’t as fortunate as I am. And I always remember to be thankful for that; I know I don’t have to do anything to earn or deserve it. It is all goodness and gift that just comes to me.  Sometimes mom forgets how blessed she is. After all, she has me and I love her always, no matter what. But I’m not the only one who loves her.  I wonder why I – a dog -- can accept that I am lovable and that all creation is steeped in love, and she has such a hard time remembering how lovable and beloved she is.

Why is it so many humans think they have to work to earn love or that they don’t deserve love when just the very fact that they, like me, were created by a loving Creator makes them inherently lovable? Their lives would be so much simpler and filled with joy if they could all just accept that, learn to love themselves – their good parts and their not so good -- and love each other. Maybe if they all learned how to love as much as golden retrievers – okay ALL dogs – do, they wouldn’t have to be so violent and end up hurting and killing each other and even sometimes themselves.

So now I think it’s time to go rest my head on mom’s lap, remind her I love her and see if I can get her to scratch my ears.    – Charlie

The Never-ending Journey

This morning I lay snuggled under my cozy down comforter and, as I often do in the morning, I was busy thinking. (I LOVE not having to “punch a time clock” and the fact that, these days, lying in bed thinking qualifies as my work.) My mind wanders to strange places in these times of half-dream, half-wakefulness.

Today I was reflecting on a disparaging comment a reader made recently regarding one of the characters in my book. I am dismayed – a little guilty, maybe? -- that a couple of people who have read the book have had negative reactions to characters who were in my life during my travels. I didn’t include them in the book out of spite but rather as an integral part of my journey of discovering myself.  It was never my intent to make them look like villains, as they apparently do to some readers. Of course, I accept that what other people think and how they react is completely beyond my control.

As I mused on this issue I consoled myself with a reminder that every good story needs an antagonist to counter the protagonist. Of course the protagonist would be me, spunky little widow.  The antagonists might include Lance, Troy and Keith, the men who, for various reasons, did not become my Filipe (Elizabeth Gilbert’s Prince Charming in Eat Pray Love).  There has to be tension in a story, difficulties to overcome; even for a true story to be interesting there must be challenges. 

But as I lay there thinking, I realized these guys were not antagonists. The definition of an antagonist is one who opposes another, an adversary or enemy, someone hostile to the protagonist’s attempt to accomplish her goals. 

Lance was an impetus to doing the journey, along with a variety of other factors. He was never an antagonist. 

Keith was along for the ride at my invitation, and while sparks flew between us – both negative and positive – and I ended the journey for his sake, he was never an impediment. He supported my journey early on and was one of my cheerleaders. In fact, he helped me go back out and continue the journey, though in truth his presence affected my interior journey a great deal. Still, I learned much from this relationship. 

Troy was possibly the closest thing to an antagonist in that he tried to talk me out of going and in subtle ways showed he didn’t fully support my journey. However, he never overtly stood in my way. 

So was there really an antagonist in my story? Of course, and she was me. My antagonist was my own woundedness, my discomfort and sense of shame in being alone, my unworthiness and lack, and my willingness to capitulate to those feelings and fears. My antagonist listened to the people who questioned whether what I was doing had value – some of those voices were my own. She sometimes failed to trust that inner voice that came from my heart and God’s heart.  It was I who invited Keith and others along on parts of the journey, perhaps not trusting my own strength and courage enough.

Ultimately I think we are all our own antagonists. We are usually the ones who hold ourselves back. Our fears and insecurities and doubts are what keep us tied to old beliefs and ways of being.  Sir Edmund Hillary, who with his Nepalese guide became the first known people to reach the 29,0928-foot summit of Mt. Everest in 1953, said:  “It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.” It is a reminder that we must learn to trust ourselves, our own deep inner voice, and ignore those unkind voices, even when they are our own.

My journey didn’t meet all of my expectations, and it may not always meet the expectations of others when they read about it. But it was my journey, and I learned a great deal about myself and others.  I grew in wisdom and grace.  It is an ongoing journey and revelations and epiphanies continue to come to me. And the graces continue and it is my hope that they extend out to others, as well.

 

Sharing Inspiration

Today I have been reading some of my recent blogs trying to imagine how it might sound to people who don’t know me.  (Assuming anyone reads it, which I really have no way of gauging, though I know a few people do follow it.)

A little whiny was one reaction that leapt immediately into my mind. But also open and still (always?) seeking.  Maybe if I were contented and complacent, satisfied with myself and my life, I wouldn’t be seeking.  Assuming “discontented” means restless longing, as I have seen it defined, I’ll admit that describes me more, and I actually see that as a grace.  It doesn’t mean I can’t be happy or joyful, it just means I believe there is more and I want to find that.

It also occurs to me (not for the first time) how often I am inspired by nature, by being out in creation.  Walking somehow seems to engage my brain – or perhaps just free it up to roam open meadows and flow with the streams I sometimes walk near.

Today, for instance, as I was walking Charlie on one of our favorite trails adjacent to the Clackamas River, a bald eagle flew directly over us, not 20 feet above us. It had apparently been fishing in the nearby lagoon. I watched as it flew slowly through a clear blue sky and weak winter sun and threaded its way through the trees, a soul-stirring experience. Perhaps it has a nest nearby. I have seen osprey here often and caught glimpses of eagles before. This time there was no doubt.

There were other people in the vicinity, but they were too involved with their tasks to pay attention: looking down, not up. They perhaps haven’t read Mary Oliver’s “Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”  I was astonished, and felt blessed by the experience. It seemed, on this first Monday of a new year, like a wonderful sign of promise and hope, especially given how threatened bald eagles were just a few years ago.

But, back to my blog and why I wanted to see how it sounds to others:  This weekend I sent an invitation to a number of women to participate in the next book I hope to publish this coming summer.  My blog and “42 States of Grace” are my examples of what I would likely share as my own reflection in this new book.  It is not yet titled, and may not be for awhile, but it will be a collection of essays/reflections, perhaps poetry, written by women in mid-life and beyond who, because of their life experiences, have a deep wisdom to share.  These are not famous women, but ordinary women, living their lives as fully and truthfully as they can, dealing with life's disappointments and crushing blows, but seeing the beauty and gift of life in spite of its challenges. 

Each of the women I have invited has faced some kind of loss, serious illness or other life crisis that has helped her come to know herself more fully, to accept herself and others as human and lovable. Each of these women has, I believe, spiritual truths based on her own experience of the Creator. Often this knowing is a result of the seeking that followed her personal challenge.  As Franciscan Father Richard Rohr writes, the path to transformation is either great suffering or great love, undoubtedly both. 

I believe there are many women who have important things to pass on to others but who don't necessarily have a very large platform from which to share their wisdom. I hope by combining the reflections of these women, we can also combine our platforms, our circles of influence, and provide a wider audience than any of us could alone -- a multiplication factor, kind of like Jesus' multiplying the loaves and fishes to feed the hungry. I think there are many who hunger for the kind of healing wisdom we could share.

This collaboration of wise women would focus  on Life, Love, Loss, Making the Most of Your Life, Living in Joy, the Gift of Experience, On Being Spiritual Creatures. It would include essays dealing with important lessons we have learned about living fully, what things we hold onto and what things we have learned to let go of, what are OUR truths. It would include reflections that are wise, witty, pithy, meaningful, poignant and true. These reflections would be meant to help other women who struggle with similar life challenges and to share our hard-earned wisdom with younger women.

So far I am surprised and touched by the overwhelmingly positive response. As I told one of the women, it’s a little scary and I will have to put on my Big Girl clothes, show up and be ready to work hard to bring this together. I asked for a purpose, a challenge, and looks like I’m getting one. 

But this morning seeing the eagle seemed very reassuring and comforting, helping me believe in myself and that anything is possible.