Category Archives: "To thine own self be true"

Okay with Being Average

As I walked to the sports field on Saturday, my suede boots sinking deep into the water-logged grass, armed with an umbrella, as well as one-of-those-supposedly-life-changing-novels, that just isn’t, I mentally prepared for the often-less-than pleasant culture that emerges when parental egos converge at a children’s sporting event. I have a set of rules.

Rule one: Don’t talk unless talked to. This is not because I am trying to be mean or hostile or anti-social. It’s just at events like these, people are interested in telling about themselves or their children. So, to be honest, no one, on the whole, really wants to hear much about anyone else’s life. I find it is best just to listen. Rule two: Don’t brag about anything about your child…college plans, grades, AP or honors courses…and never mention any statistics or sports rankings. These are all topics that do not trade well in such social situations. In fact, such talk engenders that old keeping-up-with-the-Jones spirit. It awakens the inner demon of I-am-not-enough or I’m-not-doing-it-right.

I sit down on the bench, and of course, there is a mom bragging about her children. Quite loud. Quite unwarranted. But I know what’s eating her. I know that she does not mean to be so flagrantly self-promoting. I get her. It is her not-enoughness, like an evil puppeteer, manipulating her to say too much, because deep inside, she does not understand that she and her children, are rare and wonderful and unique, even if by our silly culture’s standards, they seem average, or as Star Testing cruelly hisses, below basic.

You know, my whole goal in writing this blog is to tear down all the man-made ideas that have diminished human beauty. It is not that straining for excellence and achievement are bad things. However, if the motive finds its origin in some kind of inferiority, it is always sick and wrong.

Doing your best because you feel a sense of glory, of being truly alive…now that is cool. Doing it because you think that if you try a little bit harder, you just might deserve to occupy a space on this planet, that will result in a vast and empty wasteland within. I think it is why you see people who literally fall apart when they have finally achieved some culturally induced goal. Everyone muses, “What happened? He or she had everything.”

You don’t have everything, unless you love your bumpy, less-than-average inner self.

And guess what?

Love and acceptance remarkably have the effect of growing greatness.

Remember… it is the gloriously mystical phoenix that rises from the ashes…not from the perfect SAT scores or perfectly managed stock portfolio.

So, on to rule number three: If I do find myself in a place where I have to talk, I always tell the truth… that it has been hard. We have often been stupid. That my children struggle…and then I tell how we have learned to be okay with being average.

And then I tell about grace.

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Filed under "The Journey", "To thine own self be true", Children, Healing, Love

Dinner Theatre or Partying Naked?

In the film, My Dinner with Andre, there is this  interesting exchange about the theater and parties. Wally, an out-of-work-actor and playwright remarks to his friend, Andre: “You know, Debby once said after one of these New York evenings, she thought she’d traveled a greater distance just by journeying from her origins in the suburbs of Chicago to that New York evening, than her grandmother had traveled in making her way from the steppes of Russia to the suburbs of Chicago.” He also that he said that he never understood what was going on at  parties. To which his friend, Andre, responded, “Well, I think that’s right! You know, it may be, Wally, that one of the reasons that we don’t know what’s going on is that when we’re at a party, we’re all too busy performing…You know, that was one of the reason that Grotowsiki gave up the theater. He just felt that people in their lives now were performing so well that performance in the theater was sort of superfluous…”

So my question is why when we are a completely unique form of life on the planet earth, are a walking novel, or strain of beautiful music in the starry night, do we feel the need to be someone else? Why do we feel the pull to pack away the truth and rummage in the costume closet for another identity? Or why do we feel compelled to only submit the well-scrubbed, carefully edited, polished, savvy self  to others? Particularly when, if we are honest, this kind of activity will only guarantee a really boring conversation.

I know the answer. It has been my life’s work to drop the costume in a pile on the floor and emerge in all my fragile psychic nakedness into life. Maybe that is what Jesus meant when he said that you had to be born again. Maybe it is nothing more than being born out of a life of costumed slavery and falseness. Maybe what he meant when he spoke of life abundant was that we could actually live free and true…

This has a lot to do with why our Christmas tree is still up. Just call me rebellious, but I don’t want to do anything without making sure my freewill, my ultimate gift from God, is engaged and active.

Now about the tree. We did not put ornaments on it this year. Martin Luther, who allegedly started the tradition, when out walking one night, came upon  snow-kissed evergreens shimmering against the starry night. So we kept our tree like his primordial vision…green with little lights shining out in the darkness. However, let me be abundantly clear, it is no longer a Christmas tree. It is our winter tree and I keep feeding it water because its fragrance and lights comfort me.

So what’s the thread, you might be asking? Well, it is this. I don’t want to do anything because I think I need to perform for any external dictates anymore. I personally think that listening to that haranguing voice that says stuff like, “You better do such and such…or it’s imperative…or don’t say this or that,” just condemns me to a life of stress and inauthenticity.

You may be wondering if I am just some kind of rebel who leaves her laundry piled high and is at odds with every so-called authority figure or duty at hand. Yes on the laundry…sometimes…because dirty clothes happen, but I don’t go looking for conflict.However, when a hurt, frustration, or reaction to someone or something, arises out of the misty realms of my psyche, I inquire within. What is this about? Why am I feeling this way? Is this some post-traumatic-stress thing poisoning my present moment? And I have to admit, that a lot of the time, it is just that. I, damn it, have played a starring role in my own pain. After the moment of clarity comes from this kind of inquiry-based learning, I usually don’t have a lot of fight left in me. Also, doing my job, being a worker-among-workers thing, is a super essential mindset for me. In all of my uniqueness, there is a sweetness, paradoxically, just being a part of a greater whole. I think it is why I adore storms. Big weather reminds me of how small I am.

Yet let me be clear, if  after such a sifting of my spirit, there remains something that is unequivocally wrong, I will say the truth. I have to or else, by denying the veracity of the throbbing bruise, I will never, ever heal. It will perturb me, like the Princess and that little nuisance, the Pea, and I will have no rest, no restoration, or well-being until I deal with it.

No rulership or enforced authority is my code, which makes me an anarchist of sorts. It’s just that I know that I am made to obey one source, and let me clear, it is not carbon-based. Poet Walt Whitman described human liberty as “loosed of limits and imaginary lines.” It is freedom from those systems of belief about what it means to be human, those false notions that bind me  up at parties, at work, and at life. And frankly, I am saying “No” to that kind of rule in my life.

Dinner theatre…all of life is a stage and we are the actors? I say, “I don’t want to play that game any longer.” I want to be known for the fragility, the lack of education, sometimes the iffy morality, the failings, the humor, the courage, and the rawness that is me. And I want to know that bundle of idiosyncrasies that is you, too.

I don’t care where or if you went, to school. But I would love to know what you learned. I don’t care what your house is like. But I do care about the life, dreams, and joy that has occurred in amidst those walls. I don’t want, really, to hear your plan for keeping the proverbial boogie men out of your life or what massive efforts at controlling others you are mounting at the moment. But rather, I am interested in hearing how you have handled life when those sad, dark things we all wish would never happen, happen. I want to know your journey through pain, for there is no greater, more epic Mount Everest-of- the-soul expedition than to face down the demons that taunt when all the busyness of the day dies down, and all that is left is the four walls of the soft, exposed self.

Now wouldn’t that be a dinner party…a celebration of all the uncostumed reality of the attendees. Gives new meaning to “party naked.”


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Filed under "Looking within", "Saying No", "The Journey", "To thine own self be true", Freewill, Healing, Parties, Perspective, Truth

Reactionary Little Panic Attack

I have had a lot of people respond to my writing…Thank you.

However, many have commented on how revealing my scribbling is, and I  have had a  reactionary little panic attack. My brain began to think… “What if I am saying too much?  What if my words reveal that I am not as emotionally healthy as I think I am?What if my colleagues think less of me?” And worst of all, “What if I am completely misunderstood and somehow through one of those tiny holes in the dermis of my heart, shame seeps in?”

Whoa Nelly!

I can’t go down that road anymore. The labyrinth of secrecy and pretense has nearly had the best of me, and it has certainly seriously mangled many lives in my family tree. You know that whole keeping-up-appearances-whist-suffering-through-some-kind-of-physic-horror thing, that would be how my genetic line has done business in this world.  I made a promise to myself to be as bullshit free as possible this year and this writing thing has to adhere to that rubric, as well.

So does that mean that I am boldly going to reveal my inner workings, those soft, hardly perfect musing without any trepidation? No, that would be disingenuous. I care what people think. But I care more these days about being true.

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Filed under "To thine own self be true"