I spent the night of the science fair sleeplessly. The energy expenditure of the day was considerable, though I guess my adrenaline concentration stemming from the experience was too high to be ignored. Fatigue has turned into utter fatigue as insomnia continues. I’m guessing that this condition only serves to enhance my typical, transitory, post-event post-partum depressive tendencies.
I know that I’m exhausted and overly-emotional. And, as happens to me in this kind of space, I tend to socially withdraw a bit and reflect on my existence. What am I doing here? Is this really my life? What can I change? How can I change?
I was touched by a couple of folks who gave me huge compliments today on my leadership ability. Their comments were exceptionally kind and generous, I thought.
Am I that generous with others? Oh, I would like to think so; but I’m not always so sure. Extending sincere appreciation to those around you, I believe, is a mark not only of exemplary leadership, but of generosity and simple humanity. In whatever form it takes, saying out loud words like “I appreciate you” is a powerful thing. The message can be as significant and affirming as “I love you.”
Can we live without being loved and appreciated? Yes, I guess so, but it makes the difficulty level of life much more significant.
I frequently think of the May 2002 episode of “ER” that marked the passing of character Dr. Mark Green. (Yes, Jim, again with a TV show!?) Why this comes to mind for me at this particular moment, I’m not sure, except that is has to do with the concept of “generosity.”
In this episode, Mark is near death and he makes the decision to spend his final days in Hawaii. With him are daughter Rachel, wife Elizabeth, and their baby daughter Ella.
The most moving moment, and the one that has kept flashing into my psyche over the years, is his final piece of advice: “Be generous Rachel,” he says, “with yourself, with your life, with your love. Just be generous.”
I would love to be known as a man of integrity – and generosity. For now: I’m working on it.
Soundtrack Suggestion
And the seasons they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We’re captive on the carousel of time We can’t return we can only look behind From where we came And go round and round and round In the circle game
In the midst of everything else going on for me right now, I finally have finished reading Linda Carroll’s biography: Her Mother’s Daughter. As I have written about before, I’ve known Linda for over 25 years and identify her as one of the most influential people in my life – indeed, I consider her one of my family on this planet during this lifetime. (I’ve absolutely no idea if she has any thoughts along these lines, though.) She’s served as my counselor, confidante, friend, mentor and spiritual guide – helping me through some very difficult spots. I am incredibly fortunate to have met her and to have had her in my life for (at this point) nearly half my time on earth. Frankly, any attempt to think about this lifetime without Linda in it hardly seems like my life at all.
I first mentioned Linda in these pages after reading Borrowed Finery by Paula Fox. Fox is the famous author of novels and childrens’ books who, early in her life, gave Linda up for adoption. Linda finally tracked her mother down after the birth of granddaughter Frances Bean Cobain. Although quite elderly now, Paula is still alive and she and Linda continue to maintain a relationship begun, belatedly, in the mid-1990s.
In the time I’ve known Linda a lot has happened to her, both personally and in terms of her public notoriety. She is, after all, not only Paula Fox’s daughter, but Courtney Love’s mother. The stormy relationship between Linda and Courtney has been reported in the popular press, up until this time, exclusively through Courtney’s eyes. A number of unflattering and outrageous things have been said about Linda that are totally inconsistent with the good-hearted person that I know and love. Not that I ever really knew much of Linda’s story before reading the book, though; I have only had glimpses into small parts of her life. As my counselor, Linda has been focused on listening to the rhythms of my story, not the other way around. Most of what I know about Linda the person has come through my experience with her in various workshops over the years. The most recent group experience I had with her was about 7 years ago now, in a PAIRS (couples) course led by her and husband Tim.
Now that I’ve finished reading Her Mother’s Daughter, I’ve searched out some of the literary reviews and am discovering that they appear, well, mixed . Some praise Linda’s narrative style and general ability to draw the reader into the drama that has been her life. Others take a more critical stance, sometimes judging her life itself, apparently overwhelmed by the chaotic nature of Linda’s existence. For myself, I was amazed at the detail Linda was able to relate to me, the reader, describing experiences from an age when I would have no memories to draw on at all. Further, I was totally engaged with her writing style, finding it smooth and conversational, mirroring the “real person” that I know her to be.
Of course, upon reading the biography, I tend to agree that Linda’s life has been chaos. And in terms of order of magnitude of lifetime chaotic experiences, her biography rivals her mother’s. As much turmoil as I believe I’ve personally experienced, I admit that my story has had less overall drama than either Paula’s or Linda’s. Linda is on her fourth marriage; she gave birth to six children, one who died as an infant; an adopted child subsequently discovered another home for which he was a better fit; she escaped San Francisco by moving to Oregon, then moved to New Zealand and back to Oregon; her oldest child is Courtney, likely one of the most “out there” celebrities since Madonna’s younger days; and (not covered in the book) she once found herself the therapist for Katherine Ann Power, an activist from the 60s who spent most of her adult life underground.
Zounds: what a life.
I’ve lived my life parallel to a good portion of Linda’s drama, and I have sought out her big heart, attentive ear, and perceptive nature time and time again. She has never said she was not available to me. Whenever I’ve shown up, she’s always been totally present. Truthfully, I only had hints here and there that she was living the life she describes in this book. Even though her own existence has surely been an emotional roller-coaster, she has always been able to focus on me and my story and provide help when I sought her out. Simply, Linda is a human being of the highest caliber. The meaning of the chaos of her life, for me, I now understand, is that she’s always been able to assist me with my own frequently-chaotic existence.
A psychic I once consulted, who relayed to me some of my past-life experiences, reported that Linda and I had been twins at least two times in previous lifetimes. It is, at the very least, an entertaining thought. I know I feel very, very connected to her. My relationship with Linda is one of the most cherished things in my life. I glad she wrote her story so that I can know it: so that I can know her better than I do.
Here is a partial transcript produced from a psychic reading held on January 19, 1998, in Eugene, OR. This is the portion of the session speaking to my past-life experiences with Linda Carroll. [As I suggested in the companion post, this is likely best read for its entertainment value!]
…is because you (and Linda) have been twins. In another time. You were twins one time where you died in utero and she did not. You were both male twins at that time. And so that set up a yearning in other times for the union of that soul again with that soul. And then you were twins, fraternal twins, boy-girl twins and you both lived and you both really worked well together. It was almost like you were mirrors of each other. One was right-handed and one was left-handed. And so the two of you held a balance that was very, very precious and that’s why I’m seeing a deepening in this is the two of you do hold a balance that is very, very precious and the two of you hold a lot of love for one another. You have been also very, very passionate lovers. But not ever living together. What I’m seeing is a time when it’s like the court marriage versus the court love. I’m seeing both of you married … to other people. Other people in the way of uniting families, uniting riches, stopping wars, that sort of thing. But, you and she were also lovers. So that this spark, this passion, kept on and on and on and on, because it was in some ways forbidden? It wasn’t really forbidden, it was tolerated. But if there was any occasion that you had to be seen publicly, you were seen with your wife. And, your nights and your special times were spent with the person who is now known as Linda. Were spent loving and talking and just experiencing each other. You and your wife were both discreet so that there was no big hullabaloo that went along with her relationship with someone else and your relationship with someone else. But the passion and the richness and the desire and everything lasted for a very, very, very, very, very long time. In fact until your deaths. You came together at about the age 16 and you died of old age at that time about 42. That was very old then. And, there was just this spark. And the two of you in some ways have recreated that in this lifetime. And, this ... you both seek each other out more for who you are than anything in the external world… although it’s more a deep friendship. It’s kind of like the fire in the furnace of the basement of a building now. Heating the whole building, kind of coloring your entire life in a way. Because of the presence of this person…
Although I was born and raised in the Midwest, it was never home to me. For some reason, I always felt like a misfit there. I moved to Oregon in 1970 three weeks after I graduated from college. The country was experiencing major turbulence at the time, and I made a big change myself by moving far away from my roots. The killings at Kent State occurred on May 4, 1970; I graduated days later wearing an armband over my gown in protest. I left on June 8th for Corvallis and Oregon State University (OSU) and, after driving four and a half days, arrived there on June 12th, on a warm, bright, sunshiny afternoon. I remember it well. From the moment I saw Corvallis and the campus, I knew I was “home.” I don’t know how to explain it; it’s a feeling. But: things were just “right” when I was in “the West.” And, Corvallis, I discovered, was one of those sleepy college towns that I have always just loved.
I lived there for the next twenty years. When I moved to Corvallis to be a graduate student in chemistry, I never suspected I would be a long-term resident of the place. But I was. A lot of my life happened in that town and on that campus. I went through the agony of my divorce there. I earned two degrees there. I transformed myself from a chemist, to a photographer, to a counselor there. I met two of the most influential people in my life there. I loved, and lost again, there. In essence, I grew up there. (OK, it’s still an open question how much I’ve ever grown up…but that’s an essay for another day…) Corvallis is my “home.”
That was one of the arguments I made last spring when I was a candidate for a position with Linn-Benton Community College – at the Benton Center in Corvallis. It was heartbreak time for me when I did not get that job.
Now, I have another shot at finding a home. The position I will be interviewing for in the near future is with OSU. I would not be located in Corvallis should I be the successful candidate (this position is in Bend), but it would be an affiliation that I would love to have: representing a campus community that I have very strong ties to. I’m having a difficult time not getting really enthusiastic about this. Simply: I am excited to have this interview and this opportunity. I hope I’m not jinxing my chances by writing about it here!
I have indicated that I’m ready for the next part of my journey. I am hoping that a big change is just around the corner.
Soundtrack Suggestion
If you knew that you would die today, Saw the face of god and love, Would you change? Would you change?
If you knew that love can break your heart When you're down so low you cannot fall Would you change? Would you change?
If you knew that you would find a truth That brings up pain that can't be soothed Would you change? Would you change?
If you'd broken every rule and vow, And hard times come to bring you down, Would you change? Would you change?
Here’s a question that was posed at the end of Sunday’s (February 12, 2006) two-part episode of Grey’s Anatomy.
“If you knew this was your last day on earth, how would you spend it?”
Wow, good one, eh?
And, if I were thinking of attempting to provide a personal response to that question here...could I do it? Well, as my fingers keep hitting the keys, I suppose I'm going to try...and, as I’m writing, I’m thinking of this particular holiday...
Only one day?
Actually, I put serious thought into this not long ago as I was in a state of worry and not-knowing about my peripheral-neuropathy symptoms. And, this question has come up other times as well, certainly in times of despair and/or deep introspection about birth, life, health or dying. When I was in the emergency room being mis-diagnosed with bladder cancer, for example, I stared death directly in the face. And, as Katrina was being treated for breast cancer, I thought very deliberately about what I could give to someone I loved if she had a short time remaining.
Then, last summer, a colleague at work died. He was a little younger than me; one day he simply collapsed at his desk. This came about at the time when I was stressed and depressed about the end of a relationship and worrying about my professional fate. And, I was all by myself.
This led me to the thought that I, very well, could die alone, and no one would know or care — well other than a few in my current immediate circle, perhaps. Acting on this fear, I made sure that my assistant had some very important phone numbers in case something happened to me. And, I did one other thing: perhaps impulsively. I wrote a letter to the person I’ve most loved in this life and told her that if I died right now, without saying “I love you” one more time, then that would be a source of eternal grieving for me. I hope she heard and understood.
So, what would I do with my last day, if I knew it was my last day? On this Valentine’s Day, especially, I have to believe that saying “I love you” to her, and everyone, would be at the top of my list.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Gonna close my eyes Girl and watch you go Running through this life darling Like a field of snow As the tracer glides In its graceful arc Send a little prayer out to ya ’cross the falling dark…
Tell the repo man And the stars above You’re the one I love You’re the one I love The one I love
