Home
13 May 2012 2 Comments
Note-this is my first foray back into this after over a year of not writing. Thus, this is just a warm-up for (hopefully) better posts. Thank ya! <3 N
Home.
All of us are just trying to get there.
Whatever “home” is.
Home is the most poingantly beautiful thing about mankind, the thing that separates us from other animals, the thing that marks our existence with a stamp of tragedy.
The people we deem “lucky” are the ones who seem to have found their way to their true home in this lifetime.
Is “home” God?
C.S. Lewis writes in The Problem of Pain that when we die and join God all in us that did not make sense will meet its opposite and be filled:
“The mold in which a key is made would be a strange thing, if you had never seen a key: and the key itself a strange thing if you had never seen a lock. Your soul has a curious shape because it is a hollow made to fit a particular swelling in the infinite contours of the divine substance, or a key to unlock one of the doors in the house with many mansions.
Your place in heaven will seem to be made for you and you alone, because you were made for it — made for it stitch by stitch as a glove is made for a hand.”
I think this is the Ultimate Home, where we (all of us) End Up.
Is “home” another person?
I kind of think it’s this too. I think a lot of other people thought or think as well. I bet you do or did. I think it’s really neat that this belief is almost universal among all types of people.
One of my favorite love songs ever is about realizing when you have that home in another person:
And a poem that changed my life (thank you W.C. Dowling!) is A Valediction Forbidden Mourning by John Donne, who makes the quirky yet elegant notion that a pair of true lovers who must separate for months are like a compass (you know, the kind you use to draw circles). After several verses of exhorting his wife that their love is subtle and mystical, he reluctantly admits they may not share the same soul, but even so…
“If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix’d foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th’ other do.
And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th’ other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.”
Ah! Using the ordinary to illustrate the extraordinary. For what is “home” if not a place that is comforting and familiar yet not boring and somehow exhilarating?
Is “home” a physical place?
The Isrealites sure seemed to think so.
Confession: I know that there are plenty of examples of home being a country, a town, a house or land. However, I don’t feel like doing any research. Thanks in advance for understanding!
I’ve been half-tempted to write about “home” a least a dozen times before, but recently have come to realize that most of my favorite books, songs, poems, films and whatnot have a notion of Home-a place/person to settle into. I found that interesting. But what really stoked my fire was watching a live performance of the song “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.
I don’t even know…that song, their dancing, I could just….le sigh. It encapsulates everything about love. To me “home” is not a physical place but where you feel welcomed with your flaws and are loved fiercely regardless (or because of!) your shortcomings. Yet the best part about Home is that your shortcomings seemingly disappear when you are warmed by the love radiating out of Home’s hearth.
Maybe that’s why it’s the hope of Home that keeps us all going. As long as we believe we can still get there, even someday a long, long time away, we keep on going. And it is when we lose that precious hope in Home we stop living and start surviving. Now throw in the notion that we are It (Tat Tvam Asi!) and Already Here now and eternally and it seems that there’s no need to despair because we’re already there!
(Am I reading too much into this?)
Either way, all I know is that I don’t need to be Home right now. It comes to me in pieces and I’ll gladly keep collecting them the rest of my life to assemble them into my own little cabin in the woods.
GOOD Surprises
23 Dec 2010 4 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: bliss, courage, family, God, intuition, love, sassy, spiritual journey, Spirituality, the Universe
There is such a thing as good life-changing surprises. I received one for my 25th birthday.
Want to know what I got?
A big sister.
I know, right?! You would never have guessed and let me tell you, neither would have I.
Perhaps you’re thinking to yourself, “Self-I didn’t know Natalie had an older sister. I knew about her endearing and somewhat reckless jock of a younger brother, but not a sister.” Well, I do; a wonderful, warm, and amazing older sister whom I met for the first time on Dec. 4th. The entire experience has been something of a whirlwind, but it has already reaffirmed for me 3 essential truths about Life.
1) The Universe is always on time.
If Chrystie had reached out to me even two months before she did, I would not have been ready.
Yes, I knew about her. My mom told me when I was 9 about how she was engaged before she met my dad and how they had gotten pregnant accidentally and how she had given her daughter up for adoption. My mom met my dad, they got married soon thereafter, and I came kicking and screaming into the world five years later with my brother coming almost 7 years after. We grew up knowing we had an older half-sister “out there” but as it was rarely spoken of, my feelings about the whole situation remained those of 9 Year Old Natalie.
When I first found out, I was excited. I had always wanted an older sister; someone to teach me how to be a girl (I never felt, and still don’t really feel, feminine), someone to be warm and generous and patient with me, someone female to look up to. I drew pictures of what I thought my older sister looked like and fantasized about her being in the Spice Girls.
And yet, I was mad at my mom for giving her up when all I had dreamed about as a little girl was having a “big sister.” I was jealous of my sister for being loved by my mom and not having to “earn” it, and when my younger brother expressed interest in meeting our sister and wanting to know her, I felt scared-wasn’t I enough?
My feelings surrounding my sister were tangled and complicated and had not matured past the emotional vulnerability of a 9 year old. Thus, when my mom called me this summer and told me that my sister had contacted her and wanted to contact me, my immediate reaction was one of resistance and hesitance: Another family member? Another person who wanted something from me? I had just moved out and was trying my best to distance myself from all traces of filial obligation. I was overwhelmed.
Then a little more than 2 months ago, I began feeling curious. What was my sister like? What would it be like to have a “built-in” friend? Would we get along? Whatever happened to her contacting me? I realized then that I wanted to get to know her.
Not more than 2 weeks later, she sent me an email.
2) The Law of Attraction is real.
I was sitting in the press room when I received my first ever contact from my sister.
What did I do?
I had a panic attack. I got up, hurried to a dark corner of the convention center and shaking and crying, called my soul-sister Nan. I left her a message and went back to my desk and read the email again and again and again. I pretended nothing life-changing had happened. I smiled and did my best to project professionalism and charm. Once she heard my message, Nan got right back to me. She soothed me, talked me down, reminded me that I was an adult and had choices. She comforted the 9 year old Natalie that had emerged with grace and compassion, and with her guiding love, I realized that although 9 year old Natalie might be understandably scared, 24 year old Natalie was immensely curious and completely and utterly charmed by Chrystie’s introductory email.
I wrote back. She wrote back. We emailed back and forth for about two weeks. I looked forward to reading her emails and to writing her. I printed our email chains out so I could save them and read them at home (totally dorky, I know. I guess 9 year old Natalie is still alive in some way). After spending most of my life confused and scared of this mythical older sister, I found actually conversing with her natural and fulfilling. I was dying to meet her.
I was surprised at this change in attitude, how did I go from resistant and hesitant to excited and joyful?
It was Chrystie’s emails. I could tell by her writing that she was generous, warm, compassionate, empathetic, sincere, funny, grounded, brave, and genuine. I trusted her instantly. I wanted to return to her the love that she gave to me.
Yes, we had very different upbringings and were quite different people. I was amused that my older sister was a Division I cheerleader, that she was in a sorority, loves shopping, was raised as only child and Jewish, and is a self-proclaimed “girly girl.” I was never, and am not, any of those things. But I loved that my older sister was. I found her thoroughly interesting. She had done plenty of mountaineering, did the Outward Bound program, and went through a mountain biking phase. She loved travel and had two dogs; Penny Lane (she was a Beatles fan too!) and The Dude (her husband LOVES The Big Lebowski). BUT, we liked the same shows, had both ridden horses (I took lessons, she actually had one), suffered from anxiety, both were 3 classes short of college graduation, and had an undying love of both peanut butter and avocados. It was fascinating.
When we spoke on the phone, I could tell we were related. While we may have been (and continue to be, obviously) different in many ways, where it counted, we were (and are!) very similar.
We met for the first time about 3 weeks ago. After obsessively cleaning my apartment and doing my best to look presentable (I painted my nails because I wanted my “girly” older sister to be proud of me), I heard some yelling outside. I wasn’t sure what it was, but not long after I heard a knock on my door. I opened it and it was Chrystie.
“Didn’t you hear me yelling for you?” she demanded.
“Umm, no, no I didn’t. What were you yelling?”
“Oh! Well, I stood outside your Fortress of Solitude yelling, ‘RAPUNZEL! RAPUNZEL!…I’m surprised you didn’t hear me.”
I laughed, she laughed (similarly, I might add) and then we hugged. The next several hours were absolutely wonderful, but also entirely strange. It was weird how completely un-weird it was. It felt completely natural, like I had known her my whole life. It was familiar. She was my sister and it just made Sense.
Talking with her in person put a lot into perspective for me. I realized then, just how alike we are. We are both fiery and sassy, passionate (though her’s is much easier to see), intuitive, love laughing, have a compulsion about being truthful and can be rather blunt. We have the same smile and cheekbones, though that’s where the physical similarities end. We spent a good amount of our conversation just gazing at one another, interrupting with, “I’m sorry, but it’s just so interesting to see what I must look like to another person when I talk” and then going, “Okay, okay. Sorry! You were saying…?”
She is shorter and dark-what I always wished I was. I am tall and fair-what she always wished she was. I think being tall and blonde is boring, I want to be exotic looking like her. She thinks she looks ethnic and wants to look “All-American.” I admire her loyalty to family and her willingness to be vulnerable, as my biggest fear is being suffocated by my family. She said she admires me because living alone is her biggest fear. So different, but so similar.
After one of the many remarks about how perfectly our first meeting was going, Chrystie said something that made me love her even more:
“Oh, I know, right?! But of course it would Natty, because I knew it would. I firmly believe that if you have faith and if you put trust and love out into the Universe, you will get it back.”
The Law of Attraction works; her radiating love and strength melted my fear and broke down my resistances. Her conviction about what had not yet come to be, brought her vision into existence. She had told me (in what is the most tender thing anyone has ever told me) that she had “felt me in her heart” her whole life, even though she only found out I existed about 5 years ago. She had always wanted to be a big sister, so she trustingly and tenderly reached out to me with understanding and patience. And because she did not push a relationship, because of her love, I immediately wanted one. Her wish, and 9 year old Natalie’s, came true.
My sister has a spirit animal too.
3) Family is who you love.
There is a line in one of Chrystie’s emails that stood out. She said that until she had her son, she had never been able to look at another person and see familial resemblances. When we exchanged pictures, she (and I) were thrilled that we had the same smile and cheekbones. There was a link.
Because she had never grown up with biologically-related individuals, family was who you loved; who supported and encouraged you.
For me, my family is my close friends.
Not that I don’t love and care for my family (I have a particular soft-spot for my aunts), but growing up in a dysfunctional family, you learn to find the love and support your parents can’t give you elsewhere. It’s really impossible to blame them for anything they are lacking ; they grew up in even worse dysfunction. Compared to their parents, they are a huge improvement. But that doesn’t mean they can give me ALL I need.
My friends can though. And they do.
In what was one of the soundest pieces of advise regarding Chrystie, The Neen Bean said, “Natalie-here is an opportunity to have a healthy relationship with someone you are related to.” Yes. I like that. And Chrystie and her family have made it easy to trust and love them because they are so grounded and well, functional.
Chrystie’s adopted sister Kym has accepted me with a level of graciousness that can only be considered saint-like. It certainly can’t be easy for her, but she has welcomed me into the family with a warmth and a love that is astounding. Not only do I get Chrystie as a sister, I get Kym too…”My cup runneth over.”
Chrystie’s husband Mike is as open, generous, and warm as my sister. Meeting Mike was as natural as meeting Chrystie. We hugged, chatted and laughed, as he and his friend Chris made my birthday dinner (I know, right?! I drove down the day after my birthday and spent the night). Mike, Chrystie and I, spent hours talking and laughing over YouTube videos. It was so wonderful as to be other-worldly.
Because family is who you love, and we already love each other, I already feel a part of the family. Gosh! How lucky can one girl be?
__________________________________________________
I mentioned before that one of the things I admire most about Chrystie is her willingness to trust and her willingness to open her heart to others. She is selfless and effusive in giving her love to others and unwaveringly loyal to those she truly cares about. She is my big sister-a wonderful role model from whom I KNOW I will learn a lot, and, as this post shows, already have.
Grieving Life
17 Nov 2010 7 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: 5 Stages of Grief, balance, CCD, Life, spiritual journey, talking heads, work
“Are you a cameraman?”
“Aaron, don’t be stupid-she’d be a camerawoman. Right Miss Poole?”
These are children from my new 5th grade CCD class trying to figure out what my job is, after I told them that I don’t get paid to teach.
The rest of the conversation goes like this:
Me: Aaron-no, I am not a cameraman or woman, and Erin-don’t call Aaron stupid.
Mark: So then what are you?
Me: I work in Philadelphia at a non-profit that supports cancer research.
Luke: So then you’re a scientist?!
Me: No…I work in an office. I kind of work with reporters, I make reports, I’m starting to write press releases, I plan-
Mark (interrupting me): So you’re a reporter?! No! Wait! You’re a writer aren’t you?
Kids (all getting excited now): Cool! You’re a writer!
Me: No. No, I’m not a writer. I mean, well, I write things and I sort of work with reporters…mostly I get rooms set up for them in conferences and am nice to them.
Mark: Wait-I’m confused. What’s your job? What do you do? What are you?
Me: I don’t really know what my job is. When you work in an office, you don’t really DO anything.
Kids (visibly disappointed): Oh.
Me (internally disappointed): Exactly.
This new set of students is challenging. They’re more rambunctious, meaner to one another, sassier to me, and less inquisitive. I can’t figure out if they are actually substantially more difficult than my last class, or if I’m just lacking the energy and enthusiasm I had last year. I think it’s a bit of both.
But they’re helping me learn. Their innocence and blind faith in adults reminds me that when I was 10, I figured that at almost 25 I would be married, have a child or two and own a nice big house. I would have grown up to “be” something; I would also have a Career which I loved and my life would be “set.” Because I had a fulfilling career, a marriage, children, and a house, life would be easy and I could just exist until I died.
Not only do I not have ANY of the aforementioned Life Accessories, but I realize that problems don’t stop. There will always be problems. There will always be things that make you sad, that hurt you, that make you angry. Life is about learning how to find fulfillment despite and because of the problems.
I told this to my students…everything in the previous paragraph starting with “Problems Don’t Stop.” Some of them looked at me thoughtfully. Some of them looked at me like I was crazy. Some of them were rifling around in the desks and doodling on their folders (and they think I can’t see what they’re doing…). I think all of them were wishing they were playing Silent Ball instead of listening to me talk. But that’s not why they don’t pay me to teach.
About a year and a half ago, a very close friend of mine introduced me to the concept of The 5 Stages of Grief. We were at dinner and I was lamenting the disintegration of my previous relationship. I was so confused-how could we not be together if we love each other so much? How could two people who care so strongly and are so similar in so many ways not make a relationship work? It didn’t make sense to me. I was also in denial; I thought somehow, some way, things would work themselves out and we would be together again. (Which was not the case.)
Thankfully, Victor was bored at his office job and had been clicking around on Wikipedia and had come across The 5 Stages of Grief. “Nat,” he said, “you have to grieve this relationship. You can’t expect to be over it right away-you two were involved for over two years. Feelings don’t just disappear, you have to work through them. First there’s denial, then anger, followed by bargaining, then sadness, and finally, acceptance.”
This was both comforting and terrible news. There was an end to the pain, but being that I was just moving into the “bargaining” stage (believing that if you do or say certain things you can bring the person back), I still had a long and arduous road ahead. Luckily I persisted, and with the love, support and humor of my wonderful friends, have moved into “acceptance” but I couldn’t have done it without them and without recognizing the process.
Victor took The 5 Stages of Grief to the next level when he later informed me over one of our many dinner outings that he thought he was in the process of grieving Life.
“What do you mean, ‘Grieving Life’?” I asked.
“Well” he said, “I thought Life was a certain way: that if I tried my hardest and knew what I wanted to ‘be’ when I ‘grew up’ then I would be that and then I would be blissfully happy.” He laughed. “Clearly that is not the case. And I’m just coming out of denial about it.”
I work in a cube farm, much like this one.
He’s right. When I examine what I thought about oh…everything adult life would be, I have to laugh at how utterly and thoroughly mistaken I was. People tell you that being independent and paying all your own bills and living on your own and making executive decisions about your life is great. You’re on your own! You can do whatever you want! But they don’t tell you how hard it is. Sure, they tell you about free will and about how your choices make your life. But they don’t tell how difficult those choices will be. Apparently there’s some sort of soul mate out there for everyone and if only we found them, we would live in rapturous love for the rest of our days. But they don’t tell you that sometimes, love isn’t enough (and being an idealist and a romantic, you have no idea how difficult a realization that was to make).
They certainly don’t tell you that you will always have problems. I mean, clearly, the only people who have problems are those who didn’t have the self-awareness to know what they wanted to “be” and the gumption to just go out and do it, right?
Wrong. And being that I grew up in a family where nothing was what it seemed and truth wasn’t told without some sort of “creativity”, I value honesty-even if it’s painful.
I would much rather know the difficult truth than be fed the easy lie.
Life hurts sometimes; deceit always ends with pain. And I firmly believe it is possible to tell someone the painful truth lovingly. Which is why I told my CCD students they would always have problems and be scared and hurt and sad and angry, but why I also told them that life is full of happy and peaceful moments and pleasure and joy.
And, like last year, they stared blankly back at me.
And, like last year, I hope that my words plant a seed in their fertile minds and one day in the future-perhaps when they’ve lost a job, or relationship, or loved one-they’ll think about crazy Miss Poole gesticulating enthusiastically and emphatically declaring that Life isn’t what it seems and God is Love and Love alone, and they’ll have a little hope and water the seed I planted and maybe, just maybe, I’ll make a difference…or something. Or learn not to write run-on sentences.
__________________________________________________
My darling cubemate introduced me to MGMT and needless to say, I love them. Now that I have a routine job where I wake up, drink coffee, walk to the speedline, take public transportation to work, have a cubicle and stare at various forms of glowing rectangles all day, their song “Time to Pretend” is sadly, me and Emma’s anthem. I mean, damn, afterall- “I’m feeling rough, I’m feeling raw in the prime of my life.”
I’ll never forget one day, not too long ago, after finishing up some type of report using some type of database, I was zoning out and slowly came to the realization that I’ve been working in an office for two years, and I never thought I would find myself in one. I said to myself, “Oh my God.” Then I heard Emma’s voice gently ask through our fabric cube divider, “What’s up Natty?”
Me: I can’t believe I work in an office.
Emma: I know. I can’t believe it either.
Me: What is my life?
Emma: Got to pay the bills sister.
That’s why some of my favorite mornings are when Emma sings hopefully to me through her cube, “Let’s make some music, make some money, find some models for wives.”
And that’s why, even if you find yourself in a situation you never thought you’d be in, it’s a blessing to be surrounded by wonderful people…supporting my belief that it’s not what you are but who you’re with that makes your days worth it (Victor! et al).
And being blessed with simply amazing, and I mean amazing co-workers at both of my jobs, I consider myself very lucky, even though this whole Life thing is not at all what I expected.
Dropout
15 Sep 2010 12 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: balance, boundaries, courage, friends, sassy
I’m a dropout.
That’s right-four full years of education at Rutgers University and I stopped going three classes short of graduation.
Old “friends” have a lot of theories as to why I stopped going…most of them have to do with my ex-boyfriend as that is the seemingly obvious answer. Naturalie they’re dead wrong…and judgmental, but then again, that’s why they’re old “friends” and not part of my current amazing and fulfilling circle of support and joy. But I digress.
Today I became something of a double college-dropout. I was taking precalc so I could fulfill one of my remaining two general education requirements. The class meets twice a week and requires I leave work early to sit in traffic on a gamble that I get there on time. I need to get a C in order to transfer the credits to Rutgers and for my employer to pay for it. Thing is, I’d be missing at least six classes and two tests due to job-related travel, not to mention the little-bitty fact that math is far and away my absolute worst subject (there’s a reason I put this stuff off). So, I drove to the registration office, filled out a “drop form” and got a refund. And let me tell you, I feel great about it.
Don't let the crossout fool you-there are few things I want more in life than to be skilled in maths.
Before I mentioned that those old “friends” thought my previous relationship was why I stopped going to school, and how they were dead wrong. Here’s why I really stopped attending the first time and the reason I dropped my class tonight: I know my limitations.
From October of my senior year of college till I moved the hell out of New Brunswick, I was doing my best to soldier on through a deep depression and crippling anxiety that kept me awake at night and roused me in the morning with stomach pains and nausea. I struggled to complete my school work and attend class. I had to drop my honors thesis and decided not to TA in the spring. I cut back my tutoring hours at the writing center and essentially spent all of my time trying to decide which Band-Aid to put on the severed limb of my psyche (translation: I thought there was a magic “fix” to my deep-rooted issues). And all the while I was spending money like I had it to spend, and exasperating my mental illness with other poor lifestyle choices. I was a hot mess.
So I moved out, began staying with my boyfriend, and decided not to go back until I got It together.
It was the best decision I have ever made.
And guess what? A lot of people didn’t like it. A lot of people thought it was foolish and were worried about me, despite my assurances that, no, this “break” is what I’ve needed since I was 16-to FINALLY gather my mental, emotional, and spiritual energies. They didn’t understand why I needed time away from them, from school and essentially, from Life. They were hurt and I get that, but they also weren’t very understanding (as some wonderful friends were). They had opinions about what I should be doing with my life. How I shouldn’t be wasting my potential. How I should just finish school. How I should break up with my boyfriend. How I should, how I should, how I should…
People will always have a lot of opinions about what you do with your life. Oh well, let them. Other people’s opinion of you is none of your business anyway.
The last time I didn’t pay attention to my limitations I found myself at the lowest point in my short life. No thanks. I like to think I learn from my mistakes.
The math class I dropped tonight had already caused me to have two anxiety attacks at work. Two. The first was last week and the second was today when I realized I should drop my class in order to save my sanity. I called the Nean Bean-my calm in crisis; the friend who rescued me on one of the most traumatic nights of my life (patent pending), was there through the dramatic circus that was my parent’s divorce and my dad’s weak attempts at sobriety. She never judged or guilted me. Not once. She is simply amazing.
Anyway, I called her from my old boss’ office during lunch today, it went like this:
Me: Neen, I’m having a whack attack. I’m freaking out.
The Bean: Okay, okay, what’s going on?
Me: I think I need to drop my math class. I can’t afford to not pass it; both financially and mentally. And I’m worried I won’t. Things at my full-time job are picking up and I’m worried I won’t be able to do my job to the best of my ability. And I can’t afford to drive all the way there and back and not pass. And…
The Bean: Okay, Natalie. Drop the class. Just drop it.
Me: Really? I can? It doesn’t make me a failure? It doesn’t make me a lazy college dropout? It doesn’t mean that I’ll never graduate?
The Bean: No. No it doesn’t. All it means is that you’ll take it at a time that is more convenient for you. A time where it won’t be during your busy season at work. A time when it’s not approaching winter, which is a time you and I both know you need time for yourself. Drop it.
Me: Really? You promise it doesn’t make me a loser? Everyone is going to be disappointed I’m not in school.
The Bean: I promise you’re not a loser. And Natalie, people are going to have their own opinions. Let them; it’s not their life.
It’s not their life. It’s mine. And it’s not their life. It’s yours.
As long as you take responsibility for your thoughts, emotions, and actions, you are free to live your life any way you see fit. Well, at least in my mind. But this is coming from someone who could care less about degrees and certifications and standards of worldly success. Sure, that’s all well and good. It’d certainly be nice…really nice, but it’s not what matters. I have more respect for someone who didn’t graduate high school but loves their job and does their best to spread The Light, then someone who only wants to make an absurd amount of cash and is an emotional drain on their loved ones.
Hey! You’ve got a Ph.D. in molecular biology, that’s banging! Totally groovy! Do you love what you do? Are you trying, in your own little way, to make the world a better place? No? Then I don’t care about your degree or how intelligent you think it makes you, you are an idiot.
Look: I’m not saying you have to agree with all of the decisions other people make in their lives, but I’m saying they aren’t your decisions to make. You don’t have to like them, but you don’t have to keep that person in your life if you don’t. I certainly don’t agree with my dad drinking, but then again, he’s not a part of my life right now because of that and he knows it. There have been decisions my friends have made that I didn’t think were wise, but don’t we all make mistakes? If you’re trying your best to grow and be a kind, compassionate, and self-aware individual, how can I NOT stand on the sidelines and cheer for you? Even if you (GASP!) aren’t perfect.
Where I draw the line is when your behavior comes to severely affect my life in a negative way and (this is key) you’ve stopped trying. But that’s a “Not My Dog” post, which will be epic in its length, scope, and application to your life. And that’s a post for another day.
However readers, I am off to go celebrate my limitations with a beer and lively, stimulating, and inspiring conversation with one of my Darling Supports.
Feel free to leave your opinions about my life in the Comments section, but just know that I don’t care.
Have an emotional, joyous, relaxing, productive, and all around contradictory, and therefore, human week. I’ll post again when I get back from my business trip.
<3
Our shadows…not all that dark.
31 Aug 2010 7 Comments
in Spirituality Tags: balance, God, Joseph Campbell, Jung, religion, sassy, shadow, spiritual journey, Spirituality, the self, the Universe
I kind of hate this post already.
But whatevs, here goes…
My classmate from Rutgers has an amazing, and I mean AMAZING blog on women and body image (I totally got the bolding thing from her), and because of her love for Penelope Trunk and all of the nifty ways she links to her, I too now love Penelope Trunk (thanks Kate!).
Penelope’s latest blog entry is about being yourself at work. Now, I’m pretty sure my co-workers would say that I’m very much myself at my job (both of them). Which is funny, because I’m sort of a different person depending which employer I’m putting in hours with…but somehow, still ME. (I will say this: I’m much sassier at my office job).
So then, who am I?
I am so sick of this question.
If I knew, don’t you think I’d tell you? And another thing: WHY DO I HAVE TO KNOW?
G.K. Chesterton wrote that, “One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star.”
Pretty much, yeah.
Today on the train, I was re-reading “Pathways to Bliss” by Joseph Campbell (Nat Fact #1: I re-read books almost obsessively. Hey-how else do you think I’m able to memorize C.S. Lewis’ entire catalog?) and had a complete dork-out moment about his chapter summarizing Jung’s concept of self-individuation. I could write post upon post about the absolute genius and Truth of Jung’s philosophy on the Self, but I’ll settle for a J.C. quote which sums up what I’ve been ruminating on all day:
“Society will give you a role to play, and this means that you’ve got to cut out of your life many of the things that you, as person, might think or do. These potentials get shunted down into the unconscious…The shadow is the part of you that you don’t know is there. Your friends see it, however, and it’s also why some people don’t like you. The shadow is you as you might have been; it is that aspect of you which might have been if you allowed yourself to fulfill your unacceptable potential.”
Darkness and light. Persona and Self. Masculine and Feminine. Yin and Yang. Both parts of the same Whole. Yet because of our upbringing, our society, and our natural proclivities and constitutions, we are given a role to play, and most of us assume this role (which is not necessarily a bad thing).
Those potential thoughts, behaviors, beliefs, and passions which are not amenable to our role would be discarded, except, well…they can’t be COMPLETELY thrown out because they are part of us. So, they become our shadow, which Campbell says is, “the landfill of the self. Yet it is also a sort of vault; it holds great, unrealized potentialities in you.”
I fully understood this after my run with evening. I was in a salty, sort of angry mood and was listening to and empathizing with, Fiona Apple’s “Oh Well.” I was imagining what it would be like to throw myself into an acting role (Nat Fact #2: When I was a child, it was my dream to be an actor or writer) which required obscene amounts of fiery drama and passion. I realized that if I wanted to, I could probably do it and have fun with it. I also realized, that I DID want to, and what was holding me back was the way other people expected me to Be (and lack of time of course).
Then I glanced around at the artwork on the walls of my apartment. There aren’t many things hanging up-only 11(3 of which I would consider part of one piece), but I created 10 of them. Are they masterpieces? Ha! No way. One of them isn’t even finished, but they serve to remind me of what I can create if I let myself.
Why must we, as individuals, be thoroughly, thumpingly, consistent? Why do we feel the need to strictly define ourselves and our likes and dislikes? Our loves and our hates? In fact, why do we feel that we must be passionately ONE THING? What is so wrong with sort of liking a bunch of things?…with not being an expert?
What’s wrong with the gray area?
Please, pardon the rant, but I am fed-up with having to defend being a generalist. I like a lot of things. I like music, but I don’t know like, every indie band, like ever. And quite frankly, because I’m a generalist and because of the way I spend my time, I don’t care to.
I like creating art in various ways, but I don’t consider myself an Artist. I like writing blog entries, some poetry, and notes to myself, but I don’t consider myself a Writer. I love using my body to the fullest, but I wouldn’t really consider myself an Athlete. I love bikes and mountain biking; I’ve completed a mountain bike race and plan to race a lot more next season, but I don’t consider myself a Mountain Biker.
I have a mother with whom I have a sort of transposed relationship with, so I guess I’m a Daughter, but I don’t know what “normal” mother-daughter relations are like. I have a younger brother and our relationship is by far the clearest out of any of the convoluted ties in my family, so I’m definitely a Sister. But then again, I haven’t really heard from the bugger since I moved out, so how much of a sister am I?
Damn.
This post is kind of my “shadow post.” Firstly, I hate blogs that rant. I mean, really, why should you care what I have to say? Secondly, I hate blogs that tackle cliche topics like “Who am I?” because usually when I read them I think “Why do I care who you are?” Thirdly, the fact I just got shirty in that previous sentence and wasn’t all bubbly and uplifting is showing a hint of my shadow. Fourthly, and probably most profoundly, I feel that in writing this post I revealed too much. Because, really, I don’t enjoy letting people in. I mean, geez, Fifthly-just saying I feel I revealed too much is something I wouldn’t normally say.
(Nat Fact #3: I love numbering things!)
This post is all about the Shadow…recognizing it, and even if not embracing it, realizing that at some point in your life, your shadow may supply you with skills you need in circumstances you never dreamed you’d be in. Or maybe, you will embody a part of your shadow (say a creative or emotional side you never “put on” before) later in life. Who knows really. But isn’t it kind of neat that there’s WAY more to you than you are aware of? How fun! Next time you’re feeling that life is boring and you’ve seen all there is to see and you know all you think is worth knowing, think about how deep inside of your unconscious, there are little flames you’ve hardly ever noticed waiting to be stoked into existence.
DAMN THAT’S COOL.
So to sum up (and because I think it’s funny even though it’s pretty narcissistic), here is what I am sure I know about myself (it’s a work in progress):
I love ice cream, have a huge sweet tooth, and an undying love for peanut butter and avocados. I think The Universe communicates with us through omens, portents and signs, and it does so with me through my spirit animal, the fox. I realize how completely insane that may sound to some of you, but I don’t care. Astrology is generally True. I love bicycles-riding them is fun! I also love walking and running and climbing things and playing. Being in nature is necessary to my spiritual health. I absolutely adore science but am terrible at math. I need to travel, must move elsewhere, and miss speaking German. Tattoos sind ausgezeichnet (“tattoos are banging”). My appreciation for humor and funny people is beyond words. Probably my favorite thing in the world is talking about the spiritual nature of the Universe, which is why teaching CCD is the light of my life. I delight in being a lefty. I love cats, animals that act like humans, and the elderly, and believe they can do whatever the hell they want. I am torn between wishing I swore less and enjoying colorful language. I LOVE inappropriate jokes and puns. I love watching “This Old House” and wish I was craftier with my hands. I am a generalist, but sort of resent it, because it would be totally boss to be an expert in something. I love being around people, especially having fun and being sassy with them, but I also require copious amounts of alone time. Technology and creature comforts are nice and it’d be great to have them, but I don’t miss them much when they’re not around. I’m relatively tidy, definitely not messy but could stand to be a bit cleaner. I can bake but I can’t cook, though I can’t wait to learn how.
What about you, Readers? What do you know about yourself? Leave a comment (it can be anonymous!) and we can dork-out over how splendidly different, yet similar we are.
Natural-ie
10 Aug 2010 9 Comments
in Spirituality Tags: balance, beauty, bliss, Joseph Campbell, nature, the Universe
One of my co-workers at the “amazing outdoor retailer” I work for, puts quotes up on a dry-erase board everyday. This weekend, when I walked into the warehouse, I saw this John Burroughs quote:
“I go to nature to be soothed and healed, to have my senses put in order.”
Yes.
I don’t have anything else to say really, except YES. Just yes. Yes, yes, yes, absolutely, thoroughly YES.
I could get much more emphatic and start yelling about it, but I won’t, because I’m assuming that’s really not why you read this blog.
I have long known (and said), that I don’t feel right, that I’m “off”, that I don’t feel natural, that I’m not soothed and healed, unless I have time to be in alone in nature.
Why? Because like John Burroughs eloquently summed up, it puts my senses in order.
How? Because everything in nature does what it’s supposed to. And it doesn’t have to think about it. It just does. It just is. As one of the loves of my life, Joseph Campbell, has said, “What is the meaning of a flower?…There’s no meaning.” He goes on to say, “What’s the meaning of the universe? What’s the meaning of a flea? It’s just there. We’re so engaged in doing things to achieve purposes of outer value that we forget the inner value, the rapture that is associated with being alive, is what it’s all about.”
Yes. Yes. YES.
If I may sum up what JC said with much less elegance and poise: Shiz just is.
And that’s why I need to move.
I know, I know, it seems a non sequitur, but trust me, it’s not.
I need to live near the mountains. I need to live where I can go not that far and have a plethora of options to simply Be alone in Life. I need to go somewhere away from people, or if that’s not plausible, then somewhere I can get away from them easily. All of those things are just not New Jersey’s scene. Thus, I need to move.
Tonight I was walking back from the PATCO after celebrating the birth of one of my dear and sassy friends. It was perfect outside. Warm breeze, dark, insects making those insect noises, and me…slowly moseying along, stopping every once in a while to stand still and feel the wind. I was feeling particularly feeling tonight, so I went with it. I went with it all the way down to the lake near my pad. I had aspirations of a park bench but a couple was sitting at the one I was eyeing. It was better that way actually, because I resorted to laying down on a picnic bench under a twisty-branchy tree and staring up into its leaves (I feel a more poetic writer would have captured the quiet ecstasy of the moment, or at least managed to use a less cliche or more stylized description of a tree other than “twisty-branchy”).
You can't dream this stuff up.
I lay there in the dark for about twenty minutes, sighing with a mixture of resignation and contentment, trying to block out the voices of passersby. I tried not to think and just to Be, which I managed pretty well until I thought, “Hey! I should write a post about this!” and then fought to keep myself out of my mind and in my body, which happened to inhabit an area as close to Nature as I can get to in less than thirty minutes.
I guess what I’m saying, is that the ONLY way I am soothed and healed is when I am outside, in the woods, or by a lake, or heck-even laying on a table under a tree. The point is, it’s Nature. Which reminds us of our Inner Nature, what-or who-we are naturally: Which both come from the same Place, Thing, Being, Whatever.
“Tat Tvam Asi” remember?
That’s why being there, in Nature, in our Inner Nature, puts us right, nourishes us, and makes us whole. We remember where we came from, and when we do that, we remember what does (and more importantly, does NOT) matter.
I mean, come on-EVERYONE knows what I’m talking about in this post, because EVERYONE has experienced or thought this before. There’s absolutely nothing original about anything I have written above. And isn’t that awe-some? That pretty much every human being feels the same stirrings from home, that mysterious camaraderie and bonhomie with a plant, and the Knowledge that everything is as it should be and always will be?
You don’t need to know the names of different birds, trees, or flowers (unless you’re naming them personally…in which case, tell Sally and Charles I say “hello”!) to enjoy them, you just need to be near them.
And if you see a fox, please let me know.
I flip over my handlebars…A LOT.
25 Jul 2010 4 Comments
in Spirituality Tags: balance, bikes, C.S. Lewis, courage, friends, God, love, religion, soul, spiritual journey, Spirituality
Yesterday I was riding my commuter bike the 5 blocks or so to the PATCO station. I’m still not entirely sure how this happened, but my left foot became stuck in my front wheel. The bike stopped, I kept going, I flipped over my handlebars and struck the road. My foot was still in the wheel, so my bike tumbled with me and smashed into a parked car.
I was in shock. More than that, I was lucky. No, I was not wearing a helmet, and yes, I will from now on. My head was fine (one thing about falling and wiping out a lot, is you learn how to fall) but my palms were encrusted with gravel and they were bleeding. More than that, my foot was mangled between my spokes and would not come out. A woman driving by stopped, rushed out of her car crying, “Oh my God! Oh my God!” and immediately tried to help me up. I couldn’t move. She and I spent the next 3 minutes trying to get my foot out of the maze of spokes in my wheel. There was a point when I thought I would have to call someone for help in breaking apart my bike so I could free myself. It was scary.
I got my foot out. She walked me to the preschool a block away where she works (and Edwardo goes) and helped clean me up. I thanked her profusely (still not enough though) and walked my bike to the speedline, got on, and went to work.
Entertaining, yes? It’s okay. It is. Only I would somehow manage to tangle my foot in a front wheel. And that’s because I flip headfirst over my handlebars…A LOT.
Just like the bike I flipped over! Except mine is brown.
One of my co-workers sees the dark bruises I collect on my legs from mountain biking. She thinks it means I’m badass, “Natty, I can’t believe you just go out there and tear it up…that’s intense!” But I’m not a badass, and I tell her this. I just fall a lot because I’m unskilled and I’m low in iron so I bruise easily.
Clumsy and sensitive; the story of my life.
This week, I made the very painful decision to end a relationship. VERY painful, especially because neither of us really wanted it to get here. Heartbreaking really. Tragic. Truly tragic. Some may even say life-shattering.
Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating…but the first time I did this, it WAS life-shattering. That was The Lowest at the lowest point in my life, but it was also what prompted me to attend church again and begin going to kirtans. Life-shattering, yes. But also life-affirming. This person breathed to life parts of my soul that were dormant before…they blew air-sometimes gently and sometimes with the force of a gale-unto the embers of my soul and kindled them into existence. And those embers that are now flames will NEVER go out-they can’t, they were parts of myself of which I only had a vague notion existed. They were brought forth from the formless shadows of my unconscious into the light.
Intense right? I’m not always emotionally detached-I’m selectively surprisingly passionate.
But all that is done now. Like for good. Those flames in my soul are still leaping but the relationship is over. We attempted a friendship, and well, to be honest, I just couldn’t hack it. I wish I could. I really do, but I can’t. It was too hard. Ripping a bandage off as soon as a wound begins healing has a certain appeal at first, but after 3 years, you stop savoring the sweet tragedy and painful ecstasy of loving “too much” and begin yearning for a constant and steady Love. No, I had to make sure It was Over and then I had to end It. Which I did. And then I stayed home and replenished my physical and emotional inventory. I didn’t get out of bed until 1:00. I cried a lot.
I also yelled at God (again). I grabbed at my hair. I told The Universe I hated it. I asked where It had been-where had God gone? Where were my comforts when I needed them? My little “something something” so I knew there was A Purpose?
Would you be surprised if I told you that God answered me? (I’m beginning to believe that God only answers when we’re completely sincere…when “we have faces.”)
In the following 3 days, The Universe sent me a series of spiritual puns that I just knew were from God. Explaining them here would be lengthy and besides, you wouldn’t get it anyway. Only I do. Only I know they were for me because I felt they were for me. Coincidences happen all the time, but as C.S. Lewis says, “Our assurance is quite different in kind from scientific knowledge. It is born out of our personal relation to the other parties; not from knowing things about them but from knowing them. Our assurance—if we reach an assurance—that God always hears and sometimes grants our prayers, and that apparent grantings are not merely fortuitous, can only come in the same sort of way….Those who best know a man best know whether, when he did what they asked, he did it because they asked.“
I will tell you that God did what God is wont to do, which is use other people to answer prayers. One of my closest and dearest friends told me her “God Story” (which is one of the craziest, most auspicious I have ever encountered) on a day I had several wonderful strange encounters. Her story touched my soul, but that night I (unfairly) put God in a corner. “Alright God,” I said, “Thank you for those spiritual puns today, but if I’m REALLY on the right path, I want one tomorrow too.”
Look, I already said it was unfair, and you don’t have to tell me it was childish and immature. I know it was. But it was also sincere and honest, which, apparently God likes.
The next day I went into work at my part-time job. One of my managers told me that she had a story she knew I would appreciate. She knew I wouldn’t think she was crazy and that I would “get it.” She then told an absolutely beautiful story about her grandmother who had recently passed away and a series of occurrences which were certainly NOT coincidences-they were meant for her. She told me she’s been feeling more connected lately and thinking more about God and praying. It made my day and answered my prayer. I told her about my asking God for one more sign and her being the vehicle used to deliver it to me. We hugged. It was glorious.
I don’t know what those answered prayers mean except that The Universe is listening to me. Me! Little ol’ me. And you. And there’s a reason for the pain. I’m not sure what that reason is, but honestly, I don’t think it really matters. I’ve given up trying to figure it out.
I used to analyze and intellectualize what Things Meant and what my Course of Action should be after I discovered the esoteric nature of The Universe’s messages. Not anymore. Because it doesn’t matter. Guess what? There is no set path. And even if there was, thinking about the path instead of walking it won’t get you any further along. As the spiritual and musical love my life George Harrison sang (and the Cheshire Cat said. Nan!), “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there.”
If there isn’t a set path, that means that you’re not ruining your life by failing to find your destiny. YOU are your destiny. Your free will is your destiny. Your “fate” is whatever you want it to be. That’s giving yourself a lot of power. And that’s scary, especially when we know ourselves to make mistakes and hurt others and ourselves…and be clumsy and flip over our handlebars.
A person I care for immensely is no longer part of my life and probably never will be again. I have to say, out of all my wipeouts (of which there are many), this one hurts the most. But I don’t regret it. How can I when I’ve grown so much from the experience? Besides, what else is there to do but to yank your foot out of your wheel, shake off the dirt and gravel, reflect on what went wrong, tentatively mount your bike, and ride on?
I’m clumsy and sensitive (utterly and thoroughly a Sagittarius woman). I’m too trusting to not get hurt. I know I’ll fall again…and hard. Probably tomorrow, and most certainly by next week. It’s part of my nature. But I’m learning to fall, and I’m proud to say, I’m getting pretty good at it.
I will be wearing a helmet next time I go over my handlebars though.
