Tag Archives: “Dreams Deferred” Journey

R U Still Sad?

Scrolling through my emails, I came across this response to my “About” page:  R U Still Sad? It was from someone I didn’t know, but this strangely personal yet impersonal text, got me thinking–but my first response was a kind of defensiveness. Doesn’t this person get the message in my writing? There is always hope…a silver lining…a little miracle at the heart of human misery. I deleted the comment, almost aggressively, even with a measure of pride.

Some time elapsed. A troubled child of a friend was involved in a near-fatal car wreak that left people pondering as to the cause. I knew. It was a result of a long neglected sadness. Another reported that a minister friend had taken his own life. Someone else was secretly in tears at work.

Apparently over 57 million Americans are depressed.

And those are the one’s that are honest.

Back to me. I grew up with the blackness of a parent’s denied depression. In my churchified origins, it was not socially acceptable to have problems. Wednesday night prayer meetings were filled with  “silent prayer” requests. Everyone figured God would know. But the problem was that no one else did. This secrecy destroyed any possibility of community…the kind of warmth that happens when the truth is unburden from one human heart in the presence of another.

So, to answer my reader’s query…Yes, I am still sad. We are facing terrible odds and seemingly broken dreams all the time. The kind that meet you at the first blush of morning light and hiss “Today will not be the day your breakthrough will arrive.” We have met with so little success and so much hardship for being “us” that there are days I do understand, deeply, how people seek to destroy their lives.

I also feel that we, as a world, need to make some space for being okay with sadness. Man, from Facebook updates to formal meet-and-greets, the standard is to always maintain the party line of , “Oh, I’m fine. Everything’s great.” I even ran into a guy, when asked the usual question, responded, “Better than anybody else.” (Well, he could be the subject of another blog…)

Back to the question du jour.Why do we do that? Why won’t we say how things really are?

Maybe it has to do with time. It would take too long to tell the it’s-not-so-good version. Or maybe we have witnessed too many people who, under the chronic victim banner, spill the details of their lives for any passer-by. But you know what, I think it is more insidious than that…I think that it is that a huge majority of us have digested the rule that it is not okay to be not okay.

I want to break the law, here. I am not fine…at least not yet. My big burden pains me. And I don’t do anything much to escape the fact. I don’t drink, shop, have multiple marriages, or jobs. There is no vacation. And no, Calgon can’t take me away. And to my great dismay, as of this moment, there is no chocolate, either. It’s a hard wait. It pisses me off on days, and right now, my eyes fill with tears as I type.

There is nothing I can do but be as gentle as I can with those I live with. I have to discipline myself into hope and a decent attitude. And I have to just–dammit–be with that ache in my chest cavity that comes from the chill of waiting for the flower to emerge from the crack in the pavement.


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Filed under Dealing With Sad and Crazy

A Run-in with the Law

Back, long ago, in what seems like another dimension of time, I was a college freshman, sitting in a single person desk, in an old cement-block kind of building, trying to catch the eye of the beautiful boy sitting in my row, and pretending that I understood what my philosophy 101 professor was saying. I honestly think I barely passed that class. Not that couldn’t have, but I didn’t have the desire to do so.

You see in my life my parents had made their best efforts not to leave anything up to chance. College was always in the works for me. So were a lot of other positive experiences–travel, prep school, dance, and theatre classes. But there was this thing, this law, quite unknown, that had not been obeyed. And you know how the law functions. It does not matter one bit if you are conscious of it or not. Whether you knew of a particular statute or not. It is still enforced. The law I am speaking of is this:  it is what new-agers call the law of attraction.

In a nutshell, it functions quite simply. What you put into life, and I am talking at the heart level here, at that raw-emotions-that-spur-actions place, is what you get out of it. So that negative talk participated in, will, for example, create a dynamic. It first super-charges the environment with disquieting energy and begins to affect human well-being. People start feeling bad. Work, relationships, etcetera, suck. It also alters the trajectory of things. Ideas and attitudes form life as we know it. So even though the news may be filled with all kinds of ominous warnings of bad guys, from terrorists to dental plaque, coming to attack our castle,  it is we that will decide whether those walls of fortification stand or not.

Here’s a story to illustrate my point. I heard this one several years ago and it goes like this. A man meets a woman on the beach. She is new to town. She asks this beach-strolling gentleman this question, “So what are the people like in this place?” To which he queries, “What were they like in your old town?” She quickly replies, “Oh they were awful. They were judgmental, petty, and very class-conscious.” Then the man on the beach said, “That is exactly how people are here.” Okay. People are jerks everywhere, right? There is more to the story. Another beach walk. Another woman. Same scenario. Same inquiry. Different response. When he asks this new sand-stroller what the people were like in her old town, she gushes, “Oh, they were the best people, so warm and real. I was so sad to leave them.”  To which the man replies, “That is exactly how they are here. I think you will be very happy.”

This story illustrates the law. Creation, artistry of life, is happening ALL THE TIME, whether we are aware of it or not. So when things are bad or seem to be sliding down hill, I have to start with myself. I have to ask some questions. These are a few I start with: What is going on with me? What is causing me to feel like complaining? What is the culprit in my poor connections with others? What is behind the constant disrespect I encounter? Why can’t I seem to move ahead?

It has been said that the quality of  life is based on the quality of the questions one asks. The handful listed above, are often beginning points for unlocking the swirling weather pattern of crazy-stuck-not-working-out stuff that has its way with me so often. Sometimes the answers come quickly. Like if I am judgmental and prickly, I usually find myself on the receiving end of another person’s condemnation or at the bare minimum, experiencing some kind disconnect with other human beings. No one wants to listen to my point of view. I feel less-than and I usually blame others for my predicament. However, after a few days of misery, I know its me. I know the world is not perfect. But its lack of perfection has to do with what is put into the ether…the fear, the scarcity, the people-are-idiots attitude, the things-never-work-out-for-me vibe. I have to abandon that stuff, if I want my life to work again.

Sometimes excavation is the order of the day. I have to dig deeper. Ask bigger questions. Sometimes the face of judgment I perceive on my neighbor, is just a reflection of some unresolved issue within me. For example, last night my son was talking about how all his friends like coming over to our house because they feel loved and feel relaxed here. The house is by default, kid friendly. It is dirty, old, and needs lots of repairs. The walkway is lined with surf boards and a sundry of other junk. It’s a little trailer parky. Then my boy said there was one ex-girlfriend of his that found it horrid. My heart hurt. I think I made some nasty comment deriding her character. But then I had to think about my reaction. You see, at the heart of that negative reaction was a sadness at the-just-getting-by nature of our finances and a shame at not being able to take care of most of the material things granted to us–cars, home, our boat project. And once I was able to admit to my inner most self  exactly what was up with my comment about my son’s friend, I was free. I owned my sadness. It was not this girl’s fault. It was my reaction because of an unhealed pain in my heart.

So this is what I did. I told God that I am sorry for always wishing for something that I don’t have, instead of appreciating, loving, relishing in the life I do have. And then I went and looked at the stars and felt better. I have learned that this process is absolutely vital. We have had both sides. I have seen how hurtful words born of scarcity and fear have created a life that has nearly annihilated my family. I am happy to report, the profound affect of the positive, too. Almost every knot of an emotional problem has been untangled through the realization that I have the power to create something different. You see, it is not just making a mantra of things you want to see happen, nor is it restricting yourself to only positive words, whilst seething just beneath the surface. It is understanding that life is trying to get you to resolve the pain that is creating your existence, so that you can think another thought; and in doing so, make something new. For regardless of what you think, thoughts become things.

Just look at the history of this country. A mess of a militia facing the greatest fighting force in the world. A David and Goliath scenario. George Washington realized after receiving pounding after pounding by the British, that he didn’t need to win the war, he just needed not lose. His strategy was to HOLD ON, despite all the evidence bellowing, “Give up.” In fact the new government, the Articles of Confederation, was created after one of the Patriot’s greatest defeats. What an act of faith! When they had no evidence that they would  even get to be a country, they acted as if it had already happened. They were determined to create something. Their focus was not primarily about being against the British, but shinning brightly at the center of their attention was the idea about creating something new, something where equality and freedom could grow. Do you see the difference?

It is not a denial that *bleep* happens, rather it is  a determined change of mind, to make sure that you are not a contributor to any more of the hurt, discouragement, or dysfunction that trips us up and make’s life like a dingy room lit by a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. It is suppose to be more like Van Gogh’s Starry Night. It is sublime. It is miraculous. And stuff just works out, if you are aware of this law and you start inquiring within.

Back to Philosophy 101. So this is a class I barely passed…truly because I was unconscious of all that I have talked about today. Yet for some reason, I remembered Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, which, in Cliff-notes brevity is this: A bunch of guys are in a subterranean cave, lit from some unknown-to-them source. Shadows result on the walls. The cave dwellers think that the shadows are reality, when reality is through the hole up in the world where the light is sourced.

This is how I lived. Shadows being what I thought was real. I had to make the tough trek to the opening…to discover what was really going on. I still do. I still think the shadowy feelings I have are informing me of reality. But they are not. I have to ask the right questions to not only get out of my cave, but to make sure I am not adding to the pain of the world around me.

We have a weighty responsibility to obey this law, but isn’t so cool that we can commit to thinking differently, to healing, and in doing so, shift the world.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever does.” Margaret Mead

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Filed under "Looking within", "The Journey", Healing, Truth

Hope Kissed My Soul…

And then she flew away…

Less than a handful of days ago, a little conversation happened that gave me this  fuzzy embryonic white star of promise. Kinda like a sip of cool clear water after a long, dry, barren sojourn in a desolate land. Now I have never hiked in a desert, in fact, I live in a country of soulish, wild beauty. However, I do know about living in the great chilly expanse of a dream deferred and this Lilliputian possibility generated a sense of joy…you know the kind when you think some serious, long-standing juggernaut  just might vaporize, like the walls of Jericho.

But that is not what happened. Hope was a one night stand. We are back to this journey driven in the night, only seeing as far ahead as the lights from the high beams fall.

And this morning, I just want to say, “Really, God?”

And I want to say, “Shit” and a whole lot of other explicatives, because you know what?,  I am not hardening my heart to the possibility of miracles, but just this time, after this long uphill ascent, I was vulnerable to the wanting-it-so-much-to-change thing. And this place in my chest hurts. It’s not physical. It’s that place where the little girl lives who is still waiting for her Christmas present to come.

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Filed under "The Journey", "Tough Days", Dreams