There is a theory that we can only hear when what is being said is something we are prepared to hear. That we only see what we are prepared to see. That we can only be happy when it is something we wish to be.
I think there's a lot of validity to that. You can hear the wisest of words, but until such time as you are open to hearing them, they will have no meaning. I want to say that one day, now nineteen years in the past, I heard something that changed me forever. That the right words, in the right moment brought about something hugely defining in my life, but was it the words? Or was it that I was ready to hear them? Perhaps a bit of both.
"Come look at the tree," my mother-in-law at the time said to me.
My three-month-old son balanced on my hip, I did as I was directed, and went to see the tree. Here is what I saw: An almost comically short tree in a room with ten foot ceilings. At five foot five inches tall, I had nearly a foot on that tree. I laughed and said:
"What, he couldn't find a shorter tree?" Because that's what I saw, first and foremost. A tiny tree, dwarfed by a room. That was all that I saw.
My mother-in-law at the time quietly said, "That's not what I meant, look again, it's perfectly shaped."
I looked again, and realized she was right. The tree looked as if it was lifted directly from a Christmas card, so perfectly shaped it was. We've all heard the phrase, "It hit me like a ton of bricks." for those moments of realization that are so huge in impact, they almost seem to have physical mass. That was one such moment.
"You're right, " I said and continued to stare at the tree. Why had I missed that? Why was that something I had overlooked, I wondered. Why had it taken attention being called to it for me to even see it? It wasn't just that I hadn't seen it first, it was that I had failed to see it at all.
I think at twenty-three, which is how old I was, we are still in the process of being formed. I think that process continues throughout our lives, actually. It can be said, probably accurately, that I had a rather challenging childhood. I don't actually talk too much about those challenges any longer, it isn't that they have ceased to matter, they are part of what went into making me. No, the reason that I talk very little about the negative aspects of the past is that they ceased to be negative long ago. It was a process really, but it started that day, looking at a tree, and realizing that I didn't want to be the person who missed the good. Who overlooked the positive because I had such a fear of the negative. I was always on guard against it.
I'll never stop being grateful to my ex-mother-in-law for what she said, for encouraging me to see something differently. To see something for what it was, and to stop focusing on what it was not. There are so many cliches surrounding that exact viewpoint. "Count Your blessings" "The Glass is Half Full" "Happiness is a Choice" and it is easy to dismiss as trite anything that finds its way into cliched phrasing. Yet, cliches tend to exist because there is a core truth in them.
There were no lightning bolts when that change came for me. There's even a very strong argument to be made that I was simply returning to the person I was actually born as. I was a happy baby, I hit this earth with a disposition prepared to be merry, and most of the time I am merry. Things got in the way of that, and I stopped being happy, because I feared unhappiness so, I kept it at bay as a safety measure. I missed a lot.
I stopped seeing perfectly shaped trees, and instead saw things for what they might contain to hurt me.
Challenges, the occasional tragedy, the dark times we all face did follow and with them came a time to see the tree once more as perfectly shaped.
In these past two weeks, in considering the tragedy that has befallen Haiti, there's a lot of room to consider the suffering. The unfair qualities of calamities and horror being visited upon people who had far too little in their lives as it was. Yet, there has also been an outpouring of generosity from around the globe. A call to arms to render aid, and so many have answered.
There's a lot of good in this world, and a lot of good in people when they are called upon to show that good. That could be termed denial, right? Refusing to see the bad, to paint things with too positive a brush, but the good is there. It is not denial, as much as it is seeing something in full.
We all get lost in the shortness of trees at times, don't we? I still do occasionally, and it is an effort to remember to look for the overall shape. It's an effort, but it's one I've been making for nineteen years, when I decided that I need to take the risk of seeing the good, even if I might lose it later. That's what had kept me from seeing that shape; fear. Fear that if I did not keep a wary eye out, some form of bad would get me. As I grew I learned it comes regardless of the watch we keep, and if I keep too careful a watch for one thing, I miss the others.
Occasionally bad still comes to visit. It's part of life, coping with loss, grief, illness and strain. That moment of accidental change comes back to me, though. A remark about what was there, right in front of me, if only I would look with an eye towards seeing it.
This has the potential to be one of those drippy, "Let me share with you" posts. One that seemingly encourages an overly rosy view, or discounts very real sufferings but I don't intend it to be so. I'm just passing it on because maybe someone reading it is ready to see it, and it will help, as those long ago words helped me.
Yes, I know, I heard it so deeply because I was poised to do so anyway. I was at a point in my life where I was more prepared to have a positive viewpoint first. The negatives are still there, and often need to be addressed, but seeing the shape first helped, and still does.
Most of us know Emily Dickinson's work:
Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune
Without the words
And never stops -at all
For me it was perched on the branches of a tree that may have been too short, but was also perfectly shaped. I had to decide what I would see first. Sometimes the negative will rise up for all of us, and obscure the good. The fact of the matter is that not every cloud has the proverbial silver lining. It isn't even necessary to see the good first, in fact, it would probably be quite bad in many instances. Some things must be dealt with head on. Some things are simply very sad and painful.
I'm just saying that when that happens, look around. Nearby is likely something very like a perfectly shaped tree.
Like a world that will pour forth kindness to ease the suffering of those far away. That exists, and it has importance.
30 comments:
My goodness, yes, aren't we all coloured from past experience? Sometimes we must un-learn that which we were taught, because at the time we absorbed them, we may have been too young to discern those assumptions were patently wrong.
I am so glad you chose to risk to allow the beauty of better possibilities to enter back into your life, risk demands courage, to value something holds the threat you may one day may also lose it again. You have decided to accept it as just that now, only a possible threat, and not necessarily as the absolute cetainty which you once held to be true.
Perhaps the Ephinany with the tree was the first day you set out on that long journey of seeking closure?
This is the second post I've read today that dealt with this issue. I often try to see the positive side of things - often to the annoyance of those around me who want to "waller" as we'd say where I grew up. But I'm also guilty of gloom & doom. I'll try to do a better job of looking around for the perfectly shaped tree!
Thanks for reminding me in a very concrete way to try to see the whole picture and look at the balance. You are a very smart person and this is NOT a soppy post, but something very well written.
I think sometimes things are just in the air. First your kind comment at my place, now this. Like Bug, this is the second post with this theme I've read today, so it's been somewhat on my mind already. Hm.
It's important to look for the good in things. I think we can go further still, though. We are surrounded by absolute miracles, big and small. We don't see them because we don't look often enough.
Perhaps the tree is short. Perhaps it is also perfectly shaped. I'd say the tree itself is a sort of miracle either way, when you think about it.
There's so much negativity around us that we fail to see or ignore the positive things ,as in your example with the perfect shaped but short tree in a room with a high ceiling.
It depends : If for instance, your city presents a high crime rate, large avenues, and a variety of restaurants - I 'll take notice of the crime rate mainly. I don't care that much for restaurants and large avenues. Other people might be impressed by the avenues and restaurants and minimalize the importance of the crime rate.
Such a wonderful lesson in life!
Thanks for stopping by my blog...I just manage to do a 55 every Friday. I would love to post more often but time does not allow me the luxary right now. Enjoy the rest of your week! :)
Oh my goodness, oh my goodness. Did I ever not realize how soon my view was to be challenged, folks :-) I'll reply more later, when I can think more clearly!
But I did want to say thank you :-)
This was an excellent excellent post, loved it. Over the last couple months I too have been trying to look at the silver lining.. I find it challenging to look at the good first but it does come to me eventually.. I just have to learn to start seeing it sooner.. thanks for sharing your story.
Alane, I haven't read your most recent post yet. First, I don't think your view was challenged, at least by the commenters (thus far). Perhaps by cultural mores today they would be. The bigger issue I see in what you so beautifully wrote is that it took time (years) after your difficult childhood to reconcile your fears. This is something I can relate to very strongly as I grew up full of fear, some of it warranted.
The one saying or, as it became for me, a mantra, especially during the 90's when I was finding out finally who I was and when I was on a serious spiritual quest was, "Faith is fear that has said its prayers." I consider it one of my most basic tools in the toolbox of life.
I know we had very different childhoods, but I think there are common threads, per your comment you made earlier today on my "blue" post.
I, too, am very grateful I ran into you in this strange and glorious "blogland."
I really needed to read this today, thank you! Too much lately I have been surrounded by negative energy and it is too easy to forget how fortunate I am and that things are often not as dire as I think. Once things die down a little more, I owe you a phone call! Also read your most recent post and am glad it worked it out the way it did...what a nightmare! Can I send some candles?
Just in case my previous needs any clarification: I, for one, am agreeing with you. I liked this post very much. Just thought I'd add that. ;-)
Shrinky, it's funny, after reading your post yesterday, you really do understand the risk factor in "I'm going to let the good in".
I'm not sure how much weight I put on closure, really. I mean, don't get me wrong, I think it's a tremendous tool in a life and for many a really necessary thing but sometimes it just isn't possible. Sometimes it isn't even needed. It depends on the person. Sometimes there's just this moment of, "Wow. That's over. It's gone, the only one keeping it here is me, and I'm all right. Good stuff is happening around me, and I'm missing it."
So, it wasn't so much the beginning of closure, as a shifting of focus. What I really think that moment contained for me, and I'm not saying this would be the right approach for anyone else, is the realization that in that present (now past) circumstance, the only thing keeping me from being happy was me. It was on me. I was in charge now.
That I'd entered new circumstances, but was still reacting to them as if they might be the old ones. That the only person in that situation preventing me from relaxing, and appreciating what was good around me was now no one other than me
I don't know what the term for that would be. When we're kids, things are done around us, and to us. We're kind of at the whim and the mercy of whoever is around us. That was the moment I realized that I was now at my own whim, and my own mercy, and I was the one who was lousing it up, for no actual reason in that moment.
Like I said, no clue what that would be called. I guess it's closest to self-actualization in terms of what it would be called but that isn't quite right.
Maybe it was Armistice Day. "Hey, that war is over and I'm still treating life like the bombs could go off at any minute, but the skies overhead are actually clear and I'm the one making my life, and my reality now."
Like I said, different things work for different people.
Dana, you know what, sometimes that's appropriate. Denial of bad, actual things, sad things that are going on isn't a good way to deal either. Sometimes we do need reminders. I think it's just about the balancing act, don't deny the real stuff, that may not be good, that is going on, but don't forget to shift through it to find the things that sustain us through that stuff.
Or something. I'd write a truly rotten self-help book, wouldn't I? At least it would be short. "Try to laugh at how ironic life can be when you can, and cross bridges as they come up. Good luck! Here, let me tell you a joke."
Thank you, Tabor. Hey, your post yesterday made me dream about a hawk! Isn't it fun how the things we read get in our heads? Such wonderful places our brains are.
Cricket, I agree with all of that. To the extent that I have nothing to add to it. Also, on your other comment below, I did fully understand that you were expanding on the viewpoint, not refuting it, and I thank you for doing so.
Duta, I think there's room to do both, really. It's important to note the crime rate "Bad idea to go walking with purse bulging in that area after dark!" is good information to have, but it's probably best to note the crime rate, so that you can schedule your visit to the excellent restaurants at the best, safest time :-)
Lulda, thank you for returning the visit. I always like Wednesday because through Nancy's gathering work, I get to see into other people's worlds. I'm glad I got to see into yours.
Amy, we do have common threads of experience. So many of us do, and it isn't that the circumstances have to be exact, it's more the "hello, fellow warriors in life!" .
It was a process, but a little bit different than reconciliation. It was rebuilding, really.
I think I'll just go ahead and outline why that is. That was also about a year after I had found out what was actually wrong with my father. He had fought in the Korean War, clearly years before I was born. He suffered some kind of break in combat, and was hospitalized for a little more than a year. I never knew that when he was alive.
He was like two people, essentially. When he was in his right mind, he was a wonderful human being who taught me every good thing I believe about myself to this day. When he wasn't, it was not pleasant.
But I found out there was a reason for that, and that it had nothing to do with me. He'd struggled with mental illness his entire life that was born of actual PTSD. He'd been dead for years by the time I found that out.
So all that really happened was ...compassion, I guess for his struggle...and knowing that the good part of him was every bit as real as the bad part. It was a process, but not of closure, of understanding that the book closed. I had an answer, and a reason. That's a very, very freeing thing. An explanation that just went *click* "Holy cats, that makes a stunning amount of sense."
And it's an individual enough thing that it doesn't really fit too well with the experiences of other people that I've met. I'm not saying, "and then I was healed entirely!" it did take time. But there stopped being that "Why? Why???" I had an answer. I really wish it was like that for everyone. A fill in the blank that just makes things click into place.
Aw well, we all walk along our own path, right? Because we are coming for places that are our own. But there are similarities that makes it easy to say, "And you, you I get on this very basic level. We have some of the same building blocks within us. Nice to meet you."
Sorry, I didn't mean to skip over you, MOT! I'm just so glad that your own world has brightness in it now, you deserve that. Sorry about the back, take it slowly and heal well!
Sheila, it's always good to see you :-) Hopefully someday you'll be able to send yourself again instead! I promise the house will smell less morgue-like.
"Once things die down a little more, I owe you a phone call!"
Hehe, if we were creating our own language? This would be how we say "Hello!" on our planet :-)
Don't fret about it, ever. It's nice to have a friend where you can laugh together for two hours straight, and having that at all is a wonderful thing. Frequency isn't the test of worth. I think it's neat that we have friends in our lives who its just a delight to hear from.
Plus, here's something funny: I thought of you when I was writing this post. I don't know if you recall, but we'd talked about Emily Dickinson's careful wrapped writings, and what did that mean? etc. I grabbed Final Harvest which is a compilation of her poems and thought of you, and that like-minded take we both had on what it all meant. The preservation, and all that.
Neatly fitting, eh? Plus, you should be able to laugh at the fridge goings on because you have encountered that nice-stubborn quality in Flint. "Thank you so much for using that laptop, because it was never going to stop!"
You are right Shimp, I guess we need to be ready to hear the right thing, otherwise the right thing will not sound right. I have a feeling that for me it is the right moment, this phase of life, this period of time, and I am realizing so many things. Its the phase where I have stopped still for some time, and am looking around, realizing things, absorbing the truth around me. The truth that sometimes shoots past me in the rat race of life that I live. And that is the reason why the post makes a huge difference. Because it is the right time. Thanks for writing in spite of the risk of it being a drippy post, I know what you mean when you say that. It makes a difference. To me and maybe to many more.
I tend to go along with Cricket's thoughts on this, in that we need to look for the divine. I'm of the firm belief that all is a blessing, but sometimes we have neither the intelligence nor the inclination to see where the blessing is. I know this seems a stretch when talking about things we see as horrible tragedies, but I still firmly believe the blessing is there.
Aside from that, though, you reminded me of my favorite book title of all time. It was a collection Woody Allen's essays, and it was entitled "Without Feathers". Get it?
Hey Merlin, I'm so glad that it struck a chord, and thanks for understanding the soppy potential, also because that is one of the reasons I think people hesitate to say this sort of stuff. There's nothing more annoying than a person who is just always Mary Sunshine about everything, because it seems like a denial of a different sort.
Yet...what we tend to view as "realism" at this point has a tendency to negate the good things. That in trying to be realistic about our approach to life, and our world, the good gets shunted off into some overly rosy, unrealistic viewpoint that isn't attached to the "real world". The real world has a lot of good and bad in it, and giving weight to the good also is any equally realistic viewpoint.
Hehe, yes, of course I get it, Sol :-) How perfectly fitting for Woody Allen, too!!
I think the thing is that bad stuff happens all the time around us, and it frankly gets more press. Every single second of our lives we're far more likely to see people being thoughtlessly kind and helpful.
A really good place to pay attention in is the grocery store. I'm not kidding. If you want to see evidence of just how decent human beings regularly are to each other, it's there.
Last week I was in the store with my son, in an aisle, doing (what else) shopping. A woman down the aisle had about an eighteen month old baby with her, and a basket over her arm. The baby threw his sippy cup down onto the floor and the woman began to do a really awkward deep knee bend to retrieve it. It was a busy afternoon at the grocery store, and there were roughly six other shoppers in that aisle.
Every single person in that aisle moved towards her to help. I was the closest, as it happened, and got to her first but the response in everyone in that aisle was exactly the same.
You can look at something like that and start parsing it out, explaining it away, "Well you live in a fairly affluent suburb, where people feel very safe interacting with one another."
And okay, that's all true but the first impulse of those people was to render aid. In a busy metro area the first impulse would still be there, it's other ingrained social responses that would dampen that...but the impulse would still be the exact same one even if not acted upon for various socially ingrained reasons.
We end up seeing it most in these big circumstances like with Haiti. People across the globe are reaching out. It's really easy to focus upon the "huge terrible tragedy, terrible loss of life, untold suffering, unimaginable horror" but it would be a lot worse if we, as a world stood by, and did nothing.
Geological and environmental factors determined a quake. People determined the response. One has actual thought, and feeling behind it, and it isn't the earthquake, it's the response. It's easy to say, "Hey, you know Haiti had it bad the day before that earthquake" and that's entirely true.
Just like that woman with the baby was likely struggling a bit before the cup hit the floor...but when something caught the attention of the people around her? The response was an entirely good one.
When something catches our attention our first responses are actually good ones and that really does have importance. Shifting fault lines are not a thing with human direction behind them.
So yeah, it's easy to see the blessings, or the good in the situation because an earthquake has no directed thought, no directed intent. It just is. The response is about the directed intent of people.
Life isn't all puppies, roses, cake and sunshine. People aren't either, but when we think about life, or people, there's actually a lot of evidence that there are plenty of puppies, roses, decency and kindness happening too.
Like I said, this has the potential to be drippy...and that's yet another conditioned response. When you detail those out it sounds like denying that there's bad stuff in us all too...but our first impulses tend to show who and what we really are at the core.
The day we finally throw all of our preconceived notions in the garbage and see things as they truly are is the day we die.
So beautifully said, Shimp. I always try to ask myself - how am I right now, in this instant? If I'm warm, safe, fed, then I'm fine. I'll deal with the other stuff when I can, but for now I will retreat into the moment. This perfect moment.
Alane, I've thought much about this post and the comments over the past few days. First, I wanted to let you know that your sharing of your father's problem couldn't have been easy. But more importantly the fact that you came to a place of understanding and compassion speaks volumes about your growth as a daughter and a human being. My father was very much flawed as his alcoholism impacted our whole family and left him (and me and my sister)an emotional shell. It took me many years to come to a place of reconciliation and compassion, knowing he did the best with what he had at the time. And it wasn't a moment of "wow, I forgive you." It was years of alanon, therapy, spiritual growth, and honesty that got me there. Now when I dream of my father (it happens every few years), I can literally hear his voice and it comes with love.
Speaking of which, the Emily Dickinson quote is a beauty - so simple yet so complex and textured.
After watching The Shift (per Nancy's suggestion) I was suddenly aware that you had said something that totally rang true along the lines of Dr Dyer in the film. So I came back here today to try to refresh my memory. Our first instinct (as a human) is to help a person who needs it. Our ultimate purpose is to serve - some come to that place consciously, others unhappily meet it at the end (per the film).
Hope you're having a decent weekend without too much white stuff!
Hello Mia, whereas that may indeed be true, it's an effort worth making, I suppose. After all, if what we're trying to do throughout life is make sense of it all -- all that goes on around us -- it helps to try and shift the angle of perception.
I think it's tempting to say, "Well, it can't be done, this is what we are, and it is common to all of us." But it is an interesting thing, knowing that there are multiple ways to understand any given situation.
I don't think we ever throw aside all preconceived notions. In the great nature vs. nurture argument, we are always going to be influenced by both. We can't just scrub the processor.
More than anything, there isn't any particular goal in mind with changing a perception other than being more at peace, and content in our own lives. Seems worthwhile to me, but I completely admit that isn't the answer for everyone.
That's a really good philosophy, Nancy. I think we can get very caught up in what needs to be addressed and fixed...which is very understandable. But it provides a sense of comfort to take stock of what already have, that is going well.
Hey Amy, you know, it's not actually difficult to talk about my dad's experience. He loved me a lot, and I think that makes for a good starting point when trying to understand something.
The grandmother I lived with was also an alcoholic, Amy. I did know prior to this that your father had been an alcoholic, and unless i misunderstood, your husband struggled with the same issue? (Please forgive me if I've got that wrong).
I do know how hard that is to grow up with, and the scar tissue it can build inside a person. I'm so glad you were able to work through that.
It's a weird thing, we've all got some kind of damage from something, and current wisdom is that to understand who we are by understanding that damage. There's a lot of validity in that.
It's also difficult because understanding doesn't alter the reality, but it alters what we do going forward.
You've lived with alcoholism impacting your life. No matter how much we learn about it, "it's a disease, a terrible disease" (and again, there's validity there) there is that other part of it, that part of the people around the alcoholic where it looks, and feels like active choice, too. The other part is that we end up seeing how much denial there is around that issue from so many standpoints in our society.
I'm not expressing this well, but I think that's likely one of the points of empathy that we detected in each other early on. It's an exceptionally hard thing to sort through, because understanding is the first step, but by no means the last, because it isn't just understanding an individual's alcoholism, then you have to sort through, "Whoa...and so many people knew." and how they didn't choose to address it, or did. That's one with big ripples.
I think you likely really do understand what I'm talking about. "That happened, this happened, I understand that it built this, and that. Now, I'm the one in charge of doing the building from here on in."
And clearly it wasn't just, "And then one day I saw a tree!" but rather, "One day I saw a tree, and realized that there were already a lot of great things in my life, and that I was going to miss them if I didn't make an effort." So I did, and by the time I hit thirty, I'd figured out enough to simply be happy, and whole.
I'm glad you can dream of your dad, and love him for what he was, forgive him for what he wasn't.
I'm sure it seems strange to just hang that out there, "Hey, anyone in the entire world could read this!" which, while true, it's just not a source of shame, or pain. That's a big one for people. It isn't a case of "Oh woe is I! Let me catalog for you..." it's more a case of, "You know what, talking openly about this stuff is an okay thing to do. Don't be afraid of the ghosts of the past. That's a good first step."
I really do get the process with your dad. Looking back, sorting through, and being able to love him because, as imperfect as he was, he loved you. Your mom died, didn't she? Oh Amy, what a tremendous amount of stuff you had to sort through. I'm so glad you found a way, and it is so very clear how much you love those around you. Congratulations on finding your way, it could not have been easy.
By the way, I put that poem on my wedding. invitations :-)
Thanks for returning to comment, Amy. I appreciate it very much. These are tough issues, even after we understand them but there is value in just being open about them. If nothing else, if someone struggling with something stumbles across this, sort of, airing out of the mental closets perhaps they kind find a way to find their way, just knowing that others have.
i loved this, Alane. you are so right. i had this moment, too. long after a very dark period in my life. i'm so glad i had it. you know, you're perfectly shaped for bein' so short yourself. ;) HA. (i'm only 5'2" myself so i can relate). thanks for sharing this and i laughed out loud about the fridge. ICK! GHASTLY! but better to face it right away and get it done than to leave that smell of evil lingering! (Your son is awesome. I'm telling Lochie the tale so he gets the gist for some unknown time down the road when we may have to face the same thing!)
p.s. i saw your post on Hey Cabo's blog and i thought to myself, 'hey why haven't i seen any posts from her in my list on my blog' and it was cuz i hadn't added you there. my apologies,t hat has been rectified. don't want to miss any future postings!
Thank you for the detailed and thoughtful response to my comment. All true. I see it often when I'm driving. Sure, there are a few folks who flip the bird, but if you really watch the road you see, for instance, that drivers on the highway are constantly letting people into a lane, or shifting to another lane to make someone's entrance onto the highway easier, or a hundred other little niceties. We hear about the road rage incidents, but there are thousands of times more of the nice.
The b in subtle, one of the things I ended up liking about having put this up, was that the subject did strike a chord with people, and several seemed to remember their own moments of noting something good.
What a lovely thing to be able to see, I'm so glad people shared that in their own turn, and thank you for sharing your own thoughts.
Hey Sol, I really enjoy that back and forth that can develop in comment sections, so the pleasure was mine :-) You provide another example of the kindness that does exist around us. Funny how we sometimes forget to notice the good, isn't it?
Perhaps because the bad tends to be louder (particularly with car horns involved)!
Love the main page. Do you think it will always be like this?
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