This is Life
So, I’ve decided: my life is not stranger than fiction. My life is precisely like a real life, filled with joy, sadness, large and small risks, successful experiments, failed ventures, good people, weird and bad people, health, illness, disappointments, met and unmet expectations, and lots and lots of loss.
The differences I spoke of in my last entry turned out to be, as I had thought, irrefutably irreconcilable. There was simply going to be no way for the two of us to pursue a life path together with the clash in values that had emerged.
In an incredibly brief meeting yesterday, we parted ways peacefully and amicably. It took less than ten minutes at a local coffee shop to exchange keys and trade a few personal items from car to car.
While there are residual feelings of sadness and loss, feelings that I imagine will hang around for some time, at this point those negative emotions are offset by a profound sense of relief.
I tried. She tried. In the end, it simply didn’t work.
Really: Who Are You?
Introduction
I have a new friend who lives far, far away. She is so distant, in fact, that it’s entirely possible we may never meet in person. She knows me through Twitter, this blog, frequent emails, and the occasional IM session. She has a lot of information about me available to her, of course, as I’ve laid out the good, bad, and ugly details of my life on the internet for three and a half years now. Reportedly, she’s read a lot of this material; and I know she reads my long and intimate emails as carefully as I read hers.
I feel as if I’ve recently been significantly challenged by her, though. It’s as if she’s digested everything about me, including the two “This I Believe” essays (“On Being Present” and “Listening and Leadership”) and is saying to me, “yeah, yeah, yeah, Jim ... I know that’s what you believe.” And that she’s read the other stories, rants & raves – ridden the emotional waves – and is still waiting on me for more: “yeah, yeah, yeah, Jim ... I know that’s what’s happened to you.”
And, now, she’s asking me, “tell me more, Jim ... what do you really believe? Who are you, really?”
And, so, this essay is the result of the attempt to organize a few thoughts along those lines. I’m not sure that what you’ll find here are actually answers, though ... you’ll have to decide that for yourself. For even after you read this, in all probability you’ll still be left wondering ...
By providing this analysis of “who I am,” of course, I’m anticipating that the portrait I paint is consistent with the information you’ve already seen ... and, in fact, that an inductive analysis of the mass of qualitative data provided in these pages would lead to the broad themes I outline below. Please! ... do not think, however, that this is a “scientific approach” to talking about my life’s mission; it decidedly is not. In fact, what I’m doing here is reaching down into the bowels of my being and attempting to convey some ideas about what I believe about life, and how I go about living this life.
I’ve had a little bit of practice writing in this area. When I began studies for my counseling master’s degree, one of the essays I was required to produce was entitled “The Nature of People.” This was an assignment that required all of the newbie aspiring counselors to outline, as explicitly as we could, how we believed people “worked” (i.e., if you’re going to help people with their problems, you must have some underlying philosophy about their basic “nature”). I toiled and toiled away on my assignment for a few weeks, then had one of the doctoral students critique my draft.
“Well, Jim, this looks like a good start,” he said. (As, head down, I returned to the typewriter.)
So, perhaps, what I’ve outlined for you here is merely another good start. Let’s see, shall we? Of course, I’m aware of the risks of self-disclosure on this level: you may end up thinking that my entire belief system is wholly superficial, no more profound than “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” (I confess: I offer no new ideas here.) Even more on point, though, might be the observation that everything I have ever needed to know about living, life, and the spiritual path, just might have been gleaned from an old bootlegged Ram Dass audiotape (“The Seasons of Our Lives,” from the late 1970s) – a recording that I’ve listened to over and over again throughout the years. [Much of that material is also to be found in Dass’ book Grist for the Mill (Unity Press, 1977).] Then, you’ll discover below that I’ve pulled some quotes from Angles Arrien’s Four-Fold Way: a worldview that has been influential in my thinking about what a life’s work entails.
Therefore: here I go with some ideas about “who I am” by examining “why am I here?” For the purposes of this essay, I’m going to treat the questions as equivalent; that is, by examining why I am here, I’m suggesting that this is who I am. I’ll let the philosopher in you, the reader, argue (or not) with that premise. It will be obvious that I’m not speaking from any “religious” orientation ... in fact, this a highly eclectic spiritual (and/or philosophical) model I espouse. And, of course, since this is an essay for a blog, the points I outline here are mostly short and to the point. (Who likes book-length blog entries, anyway?!)
Why Am I Here?
I believe that we humans are spiritual beings who take form on this earth for a purpose: that we are incarnated and take on bodies to “do our work.” And that everyone’s work is different. I am certain of my purpose, and simply put:
I am here to learn and grow.
Of course, you may ask, isn’t everyone on earth here to learn and grow? In my opinion, it’s just a matter of where those items fall among life’s priorities from person to person. For me, the emphasis on “learning and growing” should be readily apparent, for if you know anything about me, you realize that I’ve been in school a lot of my life and collected four college degrees along the way. You might say I have an obsession, or lust, for learning, in all its forms: from classrooms, books, life experiences, career changes, relationships, emotional risk-taking, physical pain, and heartbreak & depression (to name a few) ... I take my learning wherever I can find it. My learning is not only for the purpose of intellectual development, but for the other dimensions of my life as well: growth in the domains of the physical, emotional and spiritual.
Now, to be slightly more specific, I briefly outline below some of the areas of learning that I think about all the time, and tend to be near the top of my consciousness-level as I go about my daily routines.
I am here to learn how to be present, open my heart, and offer my love.
I have written here previously about my belief in the importance of “being present.” It is a primary mission for me to live in the present: to be aware of myself and my surroundings, and, at all times, strive to know what I am thinking and feeling. Concurrently, it is my goal to tune in and be there for others on the most basic of levels: one soul to another. I open my heart, accept others as they are, and aim to love them unconditionally.
Ram Dass implores us thusly: “I say to you very simply, and very directly, what happens to another human being in your presence is a function of who you are, not what you know. And who you are is everything that you’ve every done and all the evolution that has occurred thus far. Your being is right on the line every time you meet another human being. And what they get from you through all the words of love or kindness or giving is very simply a function of your own level of evolution ... What we do for each other is we create a space ... that allows each other to do what we need to do ... we each have our own work to do in this incarnation.”
My beliefs and Dass’ words appear to be consistent with Angeles Arrien’s Way of the Warrior or Leader. This is described as “showing up, or choosing to be present. Being present allows ... access to the human resources of power, presence, and communication ... the way of the Leader [is expressed] through appropriate action, good timing, and clear communication.”
I am here to learn to live honestly, openly, authentically, and with integrity. I am here to learn how to lead, and more importantly, to provide a model for moral leadership.
I am not here to keep secrets about who I am. I am here to be open and let the world in: to tell you what’s going on with me, honestly, and in the moment. It is critical for me to live consistently within the framework of my dearly-held and inner-most beliefs and values (which is what I am trying to express here). I do not compromise my principles for the sake of expediency or personal gain. When I’m in a leadership role, which is my typical situation, it’s with a high sense of moral responsibility and obligation: to provide the most evolved model of leadership of which I am capable.
Arrien’s Way of the Visionary or Creative Problem Solver suggests that we aim “to tell the truth without blame or judgment. Truthfulness, authenticity, and integrity are keys to developing ... vision and intuition ... expressing the way of the Visionary through personal creativity, goals, plans, and the ability to bring life dreams and visions into the world.”
I am here to learn how to heal myself and others. I am here to learn how to be the best possible version of myself.
I have lived a huge portion of this lifetime learning and living with an inadequate model for giving and receiving love. And I’ve learned other dysfunctional ways of being that have led to profound experiences of physical and psychic pain. It’s my mission in this lifetime to learn about these unhealthy paths, to overcome them, and learn about living “right” and “healthy.” I believe it to be my obligation to teach others about my struggles and the “solutions” I’ve discovered. I know that when I am living in pain, I am not displaying the best possible version of myself. I am here to learn how to live with a minimum of pain and to share that person, my best possible self, with the universe.
Ram Dass reminds us: “And the injunction given to the physician ‘heal thyself,’ is right at the mark because we are here to talk about our own work on ourselves, because that is our gift to each other and it’s also what we’re doing here on earth in the first place.”
Arrien’s Way of the Healer or Caretaker is to “pay attention to what has heart and meaning. Paying attention opens ... to the human resources of love, gratitude, acknowledgment, and validation ... [and] the way of the Healer is expressed through ... attitudes and actions that maintain personal health and support the welfare of our environment.”
I am here to learn how to let go.
I have had a tendency toward over-control in my life: believing and acting as if I could actually change another person, determine the outcome of a situation, and/or just generally “be in charge.” I am still learning, often painfully, to accept that there is really nothing I am able to control: not another person, not their perception of or feelings about me, not any situation, nor life crisis. Nothing. Learning to invest myself completely in another person or in a situation, and then letting go of outcome, is one of the most significant of my life’s lessons; it’s perhaps the one I’ve struggled with the most. My tendency toward perfectionism, and my desire for “justice” and “rightness,” have led me down a path where it’s been difficult for me to let go of outcome. I am here to learn to be not perfect, and to let go.
Ram Dass advises: “The implication of “perfect,” if you want to deal with the concept of God ... if I say ... ‘God, what are you doing, why are you screwing up?’ ... I, who have this little teeny limited vision, mainly controlled by my rational mind, which is a little subsystem of a little subsystem, it isn’t even a very interesting way of knowing the universe, I sit there like this little ant on an elephant and say to him ‘you really blew it that time.’ I say ‘you really blew it that time’ – you know where I say that from? – I’m saying it from my own fear of death ... If I’m attached to you being other than the way you are now, I’m saying to God, ‘if I had made him, I would have made him different than he is now,’ and I [then I hear] my guru saying ‘don’t you see that it’s all perfect?’”
And Angeles describes that the Way of the Teacher or Counselor is to “be open to outcome, not attached to outcome. Openness and non-attachment help ... recover the human resources of wisdom and objectivity. The way of the Teacher is expressed through ... constructive communication ....”
Summary & Conclusion
So, to summarize, I know that I am here to learn to: be present, open my heart, live authentically, model integrity and moral leadership, heal myself, let go, and to love. It’s my way of approaching the universe, a lifetime’s worth of busy-ness. These are the lessons I have to learn, the tasks I need to perform. It’s the “who I am.”
But is this all that I am? All that I do, all that I have to learn? Well, no, but it’s what comes to mind right now. (And it’s a start.) I’m tempted to add some additional thoughts about how the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism play into my philosophy of life, and their relationship to the learning areas described above ... but this monologue has gone on long enough. And I have touched on the Four Noble Truths in at least one previous discussion (see “Freedom and Release,” for example, from January, 2006).
In conclusion, I am compelled to observe that I feel extremely unfinished as a human. There’s so much to learn, so little time. For, as Jimmy Buffett suggests “... still twenty four hours maybe sixty good years, it’s not that long a stay.”
Soundtrack Suggestion
Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
’Cause I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
(“Who Are You” – The Who)
Homesickness
homesick (hōm′-sik): longing for home and family while absent from them
The little lady at the left, Grace, shown here at five months, just had her fifth birthday on January 9. She lives in Oregon, both near and impossibly distant at the same time. I’ve known Grace since she was six hours old, the only human being on the planet I’ve ever met so early in life.
Shortly after her birth, I was in the hospital room with Grace, her parents, and her grandmother. They asked, “do you want to hold her, Jim?”
“Uh. OK.” (I said nervously.)
And, then, in my arms, just like that, the bond I had felt with the mother and grandmother, was extended to this new little one as well.
I assume there was a birthday party for her fifth. I wasn’t there. And, there’s been this feeling, this knot in my stomach, this emptiness, lately. A feeling borne from being absent. A longing for familiar places and people.
Grace, her mother, and her grandmother, were all part of the group in Oregon that had referred to me as “family.” Although life and relationship with “C,” the grandmother, were fraught with difficulty, the closeness and inclusion I experienced was an extremely significant element of my life for a decade. And, I had “adopted” (in my heart), C’s three children and two grandchildren.
For the most part, that all disappeared right after I moved to California.
America is about to embark on a new journey. Barack Obama will be inaugurated tomorrow and an overwhelming sense of hope and optimism prevails, even in these times of deep economic despair.
And while the rest of the country celebrates, I am ailing with melancholy. I would love to be home for this occasion.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Homeward bound
I wish I was
Homeward bound
Home, where my thoughts escaping
Home, where my musics playing
Home, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me
(“Homeward Bound” – Simon & Garfunkel)
Timing is Everything
I went to the movies a couple of days ago, and chose to see “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.” This is a work adapted from a 1921 short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, with the screenplay written by Eric Roth (who also wrote “Forrest Gump” - a fact that has prompted several comparisons between the two tales). The film stars Brad Pitt in the title role, with Cate Blanchett (“Daisy”) as the female lead and primary love interest of Benjamin. The film was directed by David Fincher (“Fight Club;” “The Game”).
Despite the comparisons with Forrest Gump, however, I suggest that “Benjamin” is really a meeting of “The Bridges of Madison County” and “The Time Traveler’s Wife.” As in these works, “Benjamin” is, first and foremost, a love story between two people who are doomed in their pursuit of being together long-term. The first comparison works for me because of the initial set-up: stories of relationships disclosed by a senior near death (“Benjamin”) or from beyond the grave (“Bridges”). “Bridges” is also a tale of two people who love each other deeply, yet only have four days really together. Additionally, a sense of fantasy and whimsy with regard to time are pervasive in both “Time Traveler” and “Benjamin.” And, it’s because of the twisted nature of time in both stories that the couples are not able to spend their lives with each other.
The essential premise of the film is that Benjamin is an old man when he is born (shriveled up, suffering from many of the infirmities of old age) and ages backwards until he dies as a dementia-ridden infant. It’s a cradle-to-grave story that stretches one’s imagination, I admit. But the story is told so lovingly, and with such imaginative special effects, that this suspension of reality, for me, for awhile, was entirely successful. Film critic Roger Ebert, interestingly, disagrees. He says:
[“Benjamin”] tells the story of a man who is old when he is born and an infant when he dies. All those around him, everyone he knows and loves, grow older in the usual way, and he passes them on the way down. As I watched the film, I became consumed by a conviction that this was simply wrong.
Well, Roger: I’m so sorry. You’re the one who is wrong. This entire film works, as it eloquently tells a (gut-wrenchingly moving) story of undying love between these two people.
As Benjamin lives his life, first as a young, old man, he meets the granddaughter of one of the residents of the “home” he lives in. He is immediately taken with her, but while Daisy looks her actual childhood age (of course), Benjamin appears to be in his 70s (or so). As the story unfolds, Daisy and Benjamin meet again and again, but never when it is really “age appropriate” or convenient...until, finally, in middle age, they are able to be together. And their love for each other can be mutually acknowledged and consummated.
