Is it time

Hard Stuff, It's Personal, Obstacles/Challenges, Power/Privilege, Social Justice, Uncategorized

to give up yet?  Why not?  Why shouldn’t I give up in a world so full of hatred and cruelty that three heavily armed men would go to a place where developmentally disabled people go for help and support?   Why didn’t I give up after Sandy Hook?  After the close to 1000 mass shootings since 20 kindergarten children and six adults were murdered?

I don’t know.

Other than committing suicide, I don’t know what giving up would mean.  Should I cash in whatever I have, get a little money and move to some small island that will probably be below sea level in another dozen years?  Move to a small village in northern Canada or Alaska, knowing it’ll warm up in the next dozen years?  Move somewhere in the US that’s off the grid, knowing that there will likely be condos and a Starbucks next door in the next dozen years?

I don’t know what I expected, but I know living in a country where anyone can arm themselves for combat and take off on a killing spree in a social services building wasn’t it.  I hear all the time that people are infinitely complex, that life is hard, and that simply getting up each day is a triumph.  Days like today don’t feel like triumphs.  They feel like massive, horrific failures.

We have failed, as a nation, to provide any sort of reasonable example of what it means to be human.  I realize this is a blanket condemnation but our track record on gun violence and mass shootings, unacknowledged, unaddressed domestic terrorism, and the growing list of other acts of physical aggression and violence leave little doubt.

I don’t know if I have hope for this world, or for humanity as a species.  I’m not sure we deserve the gift of hope.

5234-hope

Conversations with Life, #1

Creative, It's Personal, Life, Reflection, Uncategorized, Writing

Life,

My name is M and I’m a middle-aged single woman who chose not to have children.  I have a wonderful group of friends, work I care about and am good at, access to lots of social activities, a living wage job with an ethical employer, and a safe, beautiful place to live.  As I type all those things, I wonder why the hell I’m writing you, but I’m doing it anyway because I feel trapped and dissatisfied and I need guidance.

Feeling trapped and dissatisfied, in turn, makes me feel like a bad, ungrateful person so let’s say right now, for all future conversations, I’m grateful for what I have, but I want more.  I crave more, and I’m trying to create a path that integrates gratitude and desire.

How do I do that?

Dear M,

I don’t know.  No one does.  All the big brains and hearts and voices have been trying to figure it out since you had more than one cell to rub together.  Remember, I’m only an anthropomorphic idea you decided to write to, I don’t know much beyond what you know, but I’ll offer you this image:

When I look at a person, I don’t see the physical body that you see.  What I see is a light surrounded by an infinite number of intricate layers – like those Chinese lanterns with all the patterns?  Those are all meshed together – thick, thin, lacy, solid, dark, light, permeable, fluid, rigid, and so on.  The light shines out, but it has to make its way through all those layers, through the little chinks and cracks where the gaps line up.

Every so often, everything lines up perfectly and a lot of light gets out – that’s when you get those transcendent pieces of creation or messages that endure and survive and inspire for hundreds and hundreds of years.

I’m telling you this because the desire you feel is to shine more of that light.  You crave the sensation of having more and more clear space for that inner light to expose itself, to shine on the world around you.  It’s what all humans want – it’s the reason you are here.

There is no difference in experiencing immense gratitude for the light that already shines, and desiring more of the same.  That desire is what leads you forward, and inspires you to be more fully yourself.  And that is where the magic happens.

Always,

Life