I’ve been lying around here like a lump on this incredibly grey and wet day here in Portland, feeling blue and lethargic. It’s one of those seasonal-affective-disorder days, to be sure. Amid all this darkness, I’m finding it difficult to find some semblance of light. (Literally or figuratively.) The Carly Simon lyrics go through my head:
Sufferin’ was the only thing made me feel I was alive Thought that’s just how much it cost to survive in this world (“Haven’t Got Time for the Pain” - 1974)
As I was sitting here at the computer earlier this morning, toying with ideas for what to write about today, an email came in from one of my new blog readers. It was a brief message, wishing me well. “My most heartfelt hope and prayer for you for 2006, besides transition to a wonderful job in a location that you love, is freedom and release,” she (“C”) says.
Freedom & release. I’m thinking that C just might understand a little bit of what I’ve talked about here in these pages: for example, that I’m in Zwischenraum, literally “the space between things.” In love and work, I’ve been let go and am stranded in a lifeboat between two islands: having left both, not knowing my destination in either. And, she apparently understands my discussion of psychic prisons: the sense that I am still the prisoner, even though I’ve left the cave. I have not yet thrown off the chains because I’m being blinded by the light outside, fearful of the unknown, and paralyzed by the number of choices I have. When C and I were together, I was quite attached to my interpretation of the shadows on the cave wall. My life, thought to be on course, was dramatically altered by rejection, both personally and professionally. Yes, I have been freed and released; now it’s up to me to find freedom and release.
So, I turn to Richard Bach and the Messiah’s Handbook. As you’ll recall from Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, one merely needs to open this book up to a random (unnumbered) page, and the answer to your question is there. Today, as I’m ruminating over my life’s issues, I read:
“The only way to win, sometimes, is to surrender.”
Which, of course, is exactly right. As I was thinking about the Carly Simon lyrics and “sufferin’,” I was also pondering the first two of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism.
1. Life means suffering. To live means to suffer, because the human nature is not perfect and neither is the world we live in. During our lifetime, we inevitably have to endure physical suffering such as pain, sickness, injury, tiredness, old age, and eventually death; and we have to endure psychological suffering like sadness, fear, frustration, disappointment, and depression. We are never able to keep permanently what we strive for, and just as happy moments pass by, we ourselves and our loved ones will pass away one day.
2. The origin of suffering is attachment. The origin of suffering is attachment to transient things and the ignorance thereof. The reasons for suffering are desire, passion, ardor, pursue of wealth and prestige, striving for fame and popularity, or in short: craving and clinging . Because the objects of our attachment are transient, their loss is inevitable, thus suffering will necessarily follow. Objects of attachment also include the idea of a “self” which is a delusion, because there is no abiding self. What we call “self” is just an imagined entity, and we are merely a part of the ceaseless becoming of the universe.
I admit attachment to certain models of the universe. I was attached to living in Eugene, doing a job that I knew and did well, and was comfortable in. And, I was very attached to a model of a relationship that existed, apparently only on the cave wall. What I “knew” was not “truth.” Attachment to both of those models of the world has caused, and still causes, me much suffering. The most healthy thing I could do is to surrender to the universe, define it as “all perfect” and make a new life for myself.
I am trying.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. (“Serenity Prayer,” Reinhold Neibuhr — 1926)
Man, woman, birth, death, infinity. What is this business of living, anyway? Isn’t this existence just a total mystery? If things are totally clear to you, congratulations, for I have to admit, I’m sure having a heckfire of a time figuring things out.
Why didn’t I die during my drinking days? How did I make it through the Vietnam era without suffering a bloody, painful death in a jungle a million miles away from home? How did I luck out with a mere kidney stone, having been diagnosed with bladder cancer by two doctors one night in the emergency room? How have I made it through my depressing times of relationship and job loss?
I may be living in a state of grace, but I am still having problems figuring out why I am here. Is life totally about love and work? Is that what we’re all really here for? Do those things sum up our existence? Are they reasons enough to be born?
Surely, for love, I suspect that is the case. I fell in love with and, in my heart, “adopted” three young people (my significant-other’s kids) during the course of a years-long relationship that I have referred to in other essays here. One of those kids, two years ago, on January 9, 2004, had a child of her own. I had an incredible “first” (for me) of holding this infant at the age of six hours. This was a totally-wonderful experience, and something, at age 56, I was not ever expecting I’d have the opportunity to do. I was enchanted, enthralled, delighted, thrilled, and even a little scared. I was immediately drawn to this little one named Grace. Grace’s second birthday is coming up and I’ll not be there, now being separated from her grandmother for some months now—and no longer a part of the family circle.
I miss Grace, her mom, her uncles, and her grandmother. Even absent from them, I love them all, and send them light and love across the miles from where I reside here in Portland.
A Wedding in December is the fourth novel by Anita Shreve that I’ve read. (The others: All He Ever Wanted ; The Weight of Water ; The Last Time They Met.) The reason I keep going back to read Shreve is her ability to communicate about people, emotions and relationship. Yes, yes, if her books were movies, they’d be “chick flicks” — but I can’t help it, novels with this kind of depth and character development appeal to me. In an Anita Shreve work, I feel I get to know and care about the characters, and by the time I finish reading, I don’t want to let them go.
If you go to Amazon.com, you can find the remarks of some folks who were less than thrilled with this novel. I wasn’t disappointed, however. The story revolves around a reunion — a “Big Chill” kind of event, in a sense. Seven former high-school classmates gather together at an inn in the Berkshires to witness the wedding of Bill & Bridget — two who were high-school sweethearts, but did not end up together. Each of them, ultimately, married someone else. However, at their 25th reunion, they reconnect: Bridget a single mom of a teenage son; Bill still married, with a daughter. They resolve to finally pursue a life together, even though it is at the cost of Bill’s marriage. Bridget then gets breast cancer, and they decide to get married, to make public their commitment to each other. Nora, one of the former classmates and owner of the inn, hosts the event at this idyllic setting in the mountains.
But, this is not really intended to be a book review! What resonated with me, and why I am writing about this today, were the pervasive themes of “distance” and “closeness” in relationships, and how Shreve juxtaposed them. Nora & Harrison, Agnes & Jim, and Innes & Hazel are couples at great emotional and geographic distance. These all, are stories of love denied, love delayed, love hidden, love forbidden. In each case, there is evidence of great pain and sacrifice given the distance and unavailability of one for the other.
Then, there are Jerry & Julie, and Rob & Josh, couples who are currently “together.” Jerry & Julie’s relationship, however, seems to parallel the emotional distance of the other relationships.
The only two couples who are really “together,” and devoted to each other, are the ones for which the obstacles appear to be the greatest. Rob & Josh, of course, are gay men. Bill & Bridget have had to endure the dissolution of his marriage (and the rejection by his daughter) for them to be together — and then they become destined to tackle the challenges of Bridget’s cancer: a condition that may severely limit any real time (or really good time) they may have with each other.
Bill & Bridget waited 25 years to decide that they were meant for each other. They’re finally together, though, despite the obstacles. Nora and Harrison come together during the weekend, but it’s unknown, at the end of the story, whether or not they have a future. Agnes & Jim, Innes & Hazel: how will these couples do? Will they eventually seek out a way to be together after years and years of distance?
Here are my personal dilemmas: How long does one wait in this existence for one’s true love? A lifetime? When you give away your heart, how do you retrieve it? If you can’t really be with the one you love, is it actually possible to love the one you’re with?
I was a married person in my 20s, but I have lived most of my adult life single and alone. For the most part, this has been ok. Although this is not the way I planned things, it's the way my life has turned out. I do know that I would prefer to be alone than to spend my life in a bad relationship. So, I've said, my "aloneness" is entirely voluntary and acceptable...and that I'm not really lonely.
Well, who am I kidding? Sometimes the truth stabs at my heart during the most unexpected times and places...for example, watching the movie Shall We Dance?. Beverly Clark (played by Susan Sarandon), at one point, offers this analysis about why people get married:
We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet ... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you are promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You are saying "Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness."
My truth is: I am seeking someone to be the witness to my life. I want to share the joys and pains with another and to end this emptiness. Life is difficult enough without having to go the distance alone.
