Dear Life,
Here I am at almost 50 (in a couple of years) and I'm only now coming to discern your subtle little patterns/lessons. You unequivocally do you, Life. I get it. But the way you do you definitely impacts others (AKA me). And makes them (AKA me) cry. Hard. Granted, some of those (AKA my) bitter tears are unmistakably due to agency. Choices. Decisions. And it's easier to say 'That's Life.' But not like YOUR life in random generality. It's the broad stroke over the consequences of the steps we (fine, I) choose (even seemingly good steps) - hoping, praying, gritting teeth that the outcome won't be painful or devastating...squeezing eyes tight, and doing Lamaze breathing in preparation for the next foot out. It's that one scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade where he's standing on the edge of a cliff that seems to have no bottom, his leg jutted out, sweating bullets, hoping he won't fall to his broken, bloody, all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put him back together again, 'I've been falling for thirty minutes!!' death. Yah. It sometimes feels like that. And like I said, it's kinda easier to say 'that's Life'. Ugh.
#can this year be over already??
Seems like right about now is the time that I hear peeps say things like 'if I can just make it through the holidays - ugh, I'm so ready for this year to be over already.' We said it and meant it in 2020 and 2021 (mainly due to the isolation and surrealism created by the pandemic), but I've heard this thought since I've been in High School, which brings me to my next point. I think I'm just looking at this wrong, Life. I mean, if ALL THIS TIME we seriously keep thinking that the next year is going to be profoundly better, aren't we just going to keep being disappointed that crappy and hard things KEEP HAPPENING all over the world? Not to be cynical. I'm asking. Thoughtfully. Do we think that at the stroke of midnight leading into 2023 ALL of the existing stresses are going to step back and say 'you know, you're right - this year we've laid on you pretty harshly. We're going to go. Here's your Happy Unicorn card, have a good day.' Who has this option? I want to know. It's definitely not me. And I think I've come at you before about this, Life; how really good people I know face really hard and HORRIBLE (senseless. devastating. speechless.) things. I don't get it.
#we're all just muddling through
I had a person at work come to me through Messenger recently to put some of their stress on the table because they were stumbling through how to deal with the untimely and unexpected death of a friend. When I read the words come across my heart broke for them. I sat at my desk in an office and tears rushed in. I felt so sad for them, for the people who would feel this tragic loss. They apologized to me - they didn't need to. They described the impossible, crushing weight of emotion that they felt - and still, my eyes watered thinking of how to help, feeling short in that effort, but being mindful to ask and to listen. To be present. Feeling inadequate, wishing I could help them heal. Knowing I lacked the power to do so. Offering only what I could in that moment: love.
The other lesson, and I know I've also come to this point before, is that we just never know what's happening in the hearts, minds, lives of the people right next to us let alone beyond that. There's SO MUCH. We never know what breaks someone else. And they often know nothing of what is hurting, or strained, or challenging in our lives. Even if we articulate even a fraction. We just don't know. Sometimes we rush and we're short on the grace we could offer, or love we could extend. We think we have more time. We think we have more chances. The lesson is to take the time NOW. To be humane. To lift. To love.
#don't look back, right?
I get the sentiment to draw a line in the sand and walk over, not wanting to look back. I understand the hope that a new year means new things. And maybe I am cynical if I see things through the lens that it's not necessarily new - loss. Disappointment. Face flops. For me, lots of tears. Lots of not exactly sure how it will work itself through. Too much not positive of how questions will resolve. To be fair, there IS hope of doing better, or getting stronger, or finally understanding, or just making it to the point where I'm ready to let it go or let it be. But I don't see myself making the instant Cinderella change (pumpkin to princess) (or vice-versa - whichever you prefer). Mine is more like you can only really see the progress in time-lapse, that's how painstakingly gradual it is in reality.
So, by all means, look forward. I will, too, just not going to expect that the world will suddenly be kinder, cleaner, more peaceful, or more content. If anything, I feel like world governments will still seem like a confusing cluster of arguments (and not the constructive kind), greed will still be prevalent, and people all over the world will need compassion and help. And here, Life, is one of those discernable subtleties - for the world to become all shiny and new, I can't wait for someone else to do it. I have to be the change. I have to contribute to it - not pine for governments to get a clue or random people to magically change or care. I have to do something in my own corner of the world, in my own community, in my own spheres of influence. It's not about someone else doing something.
#sobbing
I'm going to change the tone on this for a minute to share this piece. It's necessary. I promise. This year, I went to Poland. I had the opportunity to be of service to organizations supporting Ukrainian refugees living in Krakow. I didn't know what we were doing before we went - only that there was work to be done and I wanted to help. Years earlier, when I was living in Romania and Serbia had been bombed in 1999, refugees poured into the city of Timisoara. When Kiev faced bombings earlier this year, all I could see in my mind were the people needing to leave immediately, in some cases with only what they could carry to find safety. And the need to lift where I could.
I don't tell this story to glorify myself. Please, PLEASE do not read it that way. It's about the lesson. It's about being present to change, but also being mindful and respectful of others. What the Ukrainians needed, I could not give them - they needed/need peace in their country and to go home. What I was asked to give and what I could give was time to sort donated clothing for their eventual use; I could give time and money toward shopping carts full of coffee supplies (and gaping grocery store shelves thereafter), and all the feminine hygiene items we could find. We toured a living facility and some in my group were so eager (of course with good intentions) to make improvements to the space based on what we commonly have in the U.S. I had to respectfully object, even if it was simply to be a voice for what felt awkwardly obvious. First, I felt like we were not entitled to a tour - I think the facility leaders were kind to offer, but I almost wish that they hadn't. You accept to be polite, you don't even know what you're walking into. And once you do step foot inside, it feels like it's an intrusion. YOU are an intrusion. There's always the effort to make a space comfortable. And they did such a beautiful job at that, but it's not home. It won't ever be. When people have no other option than to live in what was a school, they don't need people coming through to see what that's like - it's hard. It's not ideal. But it's shelter. And if your family is all together, that is even better. Even if it's in one room. The point is that you're all there - alive - together. You don't worry about furniture or matching aesthetics - none of that matters. You're not on the streets. You're not in a war zone. They needed/need jobs. They need dignity. They need hope. The hope we could offer was just in making sure that simple daily essentials were available. It seems such an easy thing. Until you have nothing. And you never quite know when that will happen. Or think that it will ever.
I am grateful that in addition to service, as a group we spent a morning touring Krakow. We started early when the streets were empty and it afforded us the time to explore the city as she stood still with no real traffic or noise or interruptions. It is absolutely a beautiful city, despite the horrible history she has endured. What has been left behind (places where the city wall is left intact, rail lines, a Jewish cemetery with overgrown grass and rocks on top of headstones, a square beside the station in the ghetto with an art installation of empty chairs...) is meant as a profound reminder. It's meant to tell the story of people, of families, of communities. Rail lines that once had cars loaded with mothers, fathers, and children, headed to who knew where back then...To add to the perspective, on our last day in Krakow we decided to make a visit to Auschwitz. I cannot say that it was beautiful or wonderful. I would not dare use those words to describe that place. I spent the hours sobbing on the other side of the glass that exhibited hair, shoes, traveling cases, wash tubs, kettles, tin cups...walking down a hall with faces looking back at me...a spoon tucked into their shirt. Imagining the hundred people crowded into a room to find any semblance of rest. Finding only terror. Finding only ash. I cannot call the place lovely. To think about it breaks my heart. As it should.
There's a building there that has holding cells in the basement. I was already a crying wreck when we descended into that space. I was the last to exit before the incoming tour group came through. On the door, there were initials carved in. It stunned me. There in silence, I ran my fingers over these markings, tears finding their way again. We ascended into a courtyard, where all of the surrounding building windows were blacked out. A firing squad wall at the end. The guide talked about the space, the building, the importance of the work there, and why they didn't just tear it all down. "Because there are people in the world who think this did not happen. Because there are people who do not understand. You may have seen initials carved into walls and doors here on the property. Do not think that Auschwitz prisoners did this - they were not allowed to have anything sharp or anything that could leave such a mark. Anything of the kind that you have seen was done by visitors. People. People who lack respect for what this place means." And that killed me all the more. I stood there in the middle of that space, surrounded by remnants of agony. I could not wrap my head around how one could/would feel moved to knowingly, deliberately deface that place. The sky was stormy and cold. I didn't have an umbrella. My shoes were completely soaked through. I didn't care. It didn't seem important. Not after everything else.
There's a second property. Barracks. What was rows and rows of buildings and a handful of crematoriums are now ruins, fields, clearings of trees, and a long train track that runs right down the middle. It was terrifying. As it should be. I feel grief and sick when I think about those places. As I should.
This is when I reflect and think, 'how can I help? How can I make it different?'
I have to change. Or keep changing.
I have to care. Or keep caring.
I have to give. Or keep giving.
Even if it hurts. And it sometimes does.
Even if I don't know how or what or where or why. It's enough for me to just take that Indiana Jones step. It'll be ok. Even if I miss the walkway and fall. The point is how it'll make me grow. At least, I think that's the point.
I know that was sad. I won't apologize for that part - I cannot. But I will switch gears, Life.
#feel it all
I think because I have a background with some trauma in it, I have struggled to allow myself to feel. Sometimes the extent of my feelings is the equivalent of drowning or waterboarding. When I was younger and didn't understand, my tactic was to suppress and control those emotions (usually by pretending I just didn't feel them). But the flip side then was not really learning how to deal with the things at hand or learning how to define how I felt so that I could work through them. And (another subtle lesson is that) if you don't deal with the things they just stay there...like mud on your car...and one day, you're driving down the road with your window down and that mud decides that it's a perfect time to flake off in clumps and smack you in the face. Or the elephant that's in the room. You seriously think the elephant is going to leave of its own accord? It doesn't even know how it got there, let alone how to leave. YOU have to help it. You have to deal with it. Create an exit. Plan. Try. Fail. Try again.
There's a value in accepting our feelings, learning what they mean, and in turn, learning who we are. And yes, feelings are hard - or, they can be, but we need them. They're a means to navigating this life, to connection, to learning, to growth, to understanding, to all kinds of things. We have internal signals - our bodies and our souls communicate all the time and when we pay attention we better understand what we need or what we don't need. We always have a choice - to do what we know (even if it's broken), or do something else. Even if it's never been done before. For instance, if you come from a physically abusive childhood - you hated abuse when it happened to you as a child. HATED IT. Why, then, would you perpetuate abuse with our own children? I get it - it's what you know. The point is that you don't have to do it that way. Another example: if you were in a family where you were abandoned as a child - you don't have to perpetuate abandonment with your own children. You don't have to. You can choose to stay. You can choose to learn what it means to stay, to give, to try. If you had a parent who was an alcoholic or addicted to drugs, you don't have to pick up that mantle - even if it's the only example you had of adulthood or parenthood. You CAN choose a different outcome. You can be the change. Even if you don't quite know how or what. You can carve your own destiny. And you absolutely should.
I think often of Mandela's speech (and I'm paraphrasing) if we had no fear or limitation of failure, what kind of destiny would we create? Even for ourselves - when we imagine a life for ourselves, what characteristics are present? In that space do we self-loathe? Or do we have peace? How do we step closer to being at peace within ourselves about ourselves? It often takes work. Who am I kidding? It takes a LOT of work. It takes giving. It takes forgiveness. It takes honesty and acceptance. Over and over and over again.
#the Elephant in the Room
Over the years as my littles have grown, and hard things have crossed their paths, we've talked through feelings. Many times. I'm better at it now in my adulthood than I was in my childhood. Still, it's not about me defining things FOR them, but rather giving them space to learn, try, and discern. Their foundation was less about being perfect and more about learning how to stumble through life, know themselves, adapt to change, and get back up when they fail. 'Feel all the things,' I would tell them. 'And when you're ready, let it go.'
When you've taken the time, the years, the however long it takes to work through the Elephant in the room, it's ok to let the Elephant STAY GONE. You don't have to drag it back into the room. It's reasonable to reflect on the learning, or even how it made you feel, but you don't have to build it back up once you've done the work to accept it, and resolve it. Totally fine to let it go. Picture the Elephant running away, waving its trunk back at you (Byyyyyeeeee!!!), excited for the experiences to come, happy to reunite with its own family, dreaming of a world of peanuts. And think of all the space you'll have once it's let go! You can stand in the middle of the room and stretch out your arms as wide as you can (you feel that??). Maybe swing your arms around from side to side (because you won't risk running into the Elephant). Maybe you do some cartwheels? Maybe you put in a TV and play Just Dance and take up ALL the space with your rad routines (and think of that cardio!!)? Maybe you can get a disco ball and a karaoke machine? Maybe you can convert the space into a library or an art studio! And have parties in that space! Something uniquely you!! How exciting! BUT if you get all freaked out for selfish reasons and decide to drag the Elephant back in (maybe just because you miss it (REALLY?!? It JUST left. It was happy to go!! What about getting a dog instead??) and it was kind of company in a weird, crowded, suffocatingly smelly kind of way) fun lights and amusement, or creative spaces are probably impractical for the area. I think just from a smell perspective it would likely be a little hard to do much of anything else other than just let the Elephant be there. And you got to feed it...I mean, if you don't, the Elephant is going to die...and then it's just a smellier carcass version but still just as big. But now laying down. On it's side. And then there's lots of flies and other unmentionables. Yah. And somebody from the Humane Society is going to come see you. And fine you. For having an Elephant in the room in the first place. They'll lecture you about where Elephants are supposed to live. And they'll accuse you of smuggling. And there'll be some mean tweets on Twitter. People will walk by and point. Even if the Elephant wanted to be there YOU brought it. But you know that's not true. The Elephant DOES like you but it doesn't want to live in the room. No. The Elephant would be happier roaming free than occupying space in whatever living room or bedroom you initially designated it to. Your roomba would NOT be able to keep up. Unless your roomba was a scoopy dump truck. But then now you have the Elephant AND a truck in your room? What?? Stop the madness! Let the Elephant go! Just saying. Because the Elephant is not going to say anything. It's just going to be there...hoping you give it massive amounts of peanuts. Or other foods. Everyday. Do you see where I'm going with this?? IT'S SO MUCH HARDER TO LEAVE THE ELEPHANT THERE!! Work it out. Let it go. Karaoke. Please.
And no, nobody else can work out your Elephant. It's yours. You. We each have our own. Sheesh. All of these Elephants. You'd think there'd be bigger pet pads at the store.
So, there you have it, Life. A little irony, a little seriousness, a few lessons (according to me as I do my own stumbling). The point is if I share it maybe you won't feel so alone, or like you're the only one. In some way or in many ways, you're not. We're all here together. Trying to find our voices, trying to be ok where we are and trying to be ok with who we are in the moment, in the now. We have tools - we have examples of people and things who/that motivate us to be better, or influence us how NOT to be, or maybe we land somewhere in between. The point is that for each of us, as we walk our individual paths, it's not about anyone other than ourselves. And we WILL absolutely flop. That's ok. We'll walk together for as long as the paths run parallel. We'll hold hands. Even with strangers. We'll smile at each other. We'll giggle and talk and cry and hurt each other and say sorry. We'll lose each other for a while. We'll walk what seems like alone for a while. We'll wish for better years. We'll wait for someone to do something and then realize that we can do things, too. We'll know joy AND sorrow. We'll know love AND loss. We'll know what courage looks like. But we'll also know what failure feels like. And all the while we'll walk.
Someway, somehow...it'll be ok.
J.
