Thanks to everyone who's contacted me with positive words about this blog's resurrection. I feel encouraged and a little under the gun. What have I done? Now I really have to write stuff. No slacking off. So far it's been fun, I just hope it doesn't turn into a slog, something like having a term paper due. Yuck.
One way to prevent this, I believe, is to stay true to my initial 2010 blog goal of "helping me be more accepting of myself and others" and "whatever I write to not be too constricted by a perceived need to have it be well-planned, thought out or brilliant."
Just reading this makes me feel less anxious, freer to write what I really care about and less likely to be held back by fear/self-doubt.
Whether or not you'll find my musings interesting enough to keep reading is another question.
Back in 2010 I also wrote,
"I want my writing (of this blog) to help me connect with guiding forces which will help me through the 'tricky end game'." (Through? As if there's another side? "With" seems like a better word at this point.)
I bring this up because since I restarted this blog the thing I find I'm most interested in writing about is not my upcoming trip to Mexico but my ongoing wrestling match with life. How can I reconcile its joy and wonder with its inevitable losses and sorrow? I find exploring the questions of trying to figure out the best way to live and looking for guiding forces to be a wonderful adventure. What could be more exciting and important?
Which leads me to shitstorms.
Wikipedia says "Shitstorm is a vulgar dysphemism of a chaotic and unpleasant situation."You don't have to know what a dysphemism is to understand shitstorms. Most of us have experienced them personally and collectively. Hell, lately every time I read the newspaper its the first word that comes to mind.
To be clear, I'm not talking about the day-to-day anxiety that normal living brings but the deep down and dirty sadness, anger and/or fear usually due to a major loss or threat.
What should you do when the storm hits and just won't let go?
The answer to this important question is probably different for each person. Here's some of my current thinking...
The past year has been tough. I've had several medical and relationship issues that put me in a dark, sad place. I had hoped that the philosophical and spiritual ideas I'd explored and embraced would provide an underpinning that would help me keep my head above water when the proverbial shit hit the fan. No such luck. It all just felt like empty words. I found myself sitting in the cellar singing Levon Helm's song "Calvary" over and over.
Every man will see the day
That his hopes are dashed away
No word can bring him peace
No man can set him free
Pretty pathetic. Luckily, I didn't shut down. Dorothy and I continued to be in a good, supportive relationship, in fact we seemed to grow closer. I saw a counselor, talked to my minister and some friends and shared with a small church group that I meet with regularly. Still the cloud wouldn't lift. It went on for about ten months. It was getting very old and deeply discouraging. And then something happened...
About a month ago I was listening to The Moth on WSKG our local public radio station. This is a wonderful program where people share stories about their life.
One of the stories this day was about an experience a man had with his terminally ill wife who was in a hospice. (I was unable to find the show on The Moth's website. If any of you happen to find it please let me know.) This man said that one day he bought a fancy new Harley Davidson motorcycle and excitedly drove it to the hospice to show his wife. He related that when she looked at it through the window she unexpectedly seemed sad and a bit angry. He didn't understand this reaction and his wife didn't explain. When he described the situation to a hospice staff worker the worker told him that most people in a hospice were focused on living not dying and for some reason him showing her the bike made her feel like he was treating her as being already dead. He thought about this then suddenly disconnected the tubes going into his wife's body and took her outside in her hospital gown, put her on the Harley and headed out of the parking lot. He described her screaming with joy as they flew down the freeway in Los Angeles. He was crying as he described this wonderful moment. So was I.
Don't know why but this story changed me. Since hearing it I've been different. I'm happier and more engaged with life. I'm playing more guitar, writing a blog, I've become a Meals on Wheels volunteer, I've had moments of joy and peace. It's not a full 180 degree recovery. I still feel pretty awful at times. But it's a lot better.
I don't know why this story helped. I do know it struck a chord that helped open a door, especially the part about focusing on living not dying. It taught me something that I don't think I can explain. It gave me an insight that I'm hesitant to even try to put into words.
Perhaps it wasn't just the program. Maybe enough time had passed that healing was starting to kick in. Maybe my efforts to share and resist withdrawing were paying off. I don't know. I do know that I feel incredibly grateful for the change that has happened.
Which leads to epiphanies.
Wikipedia has a lot of different definitions of epiphanies.
The one that's closest to what I experienced describes it as
"an Aha moment. As a literary device, epiphany is the moment when a character is suddenly struck with a life-changing realization which changes the rest of the story."
Yep. That's pretty close to what has happened with me.
I'd like to end this post with an excerpt for Jack Gilbert's poem "A Brief for the Defense"
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
Be well. Next post will be from Oaxaca.
