And there you are....

What you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing; it also depends on what sort of person you are. ~ C.S. Lewis The Magician's Nephew

When I was little, my friends and I used to play in the creek that ran behind the neighborhood. It was always an adventure as we made our way through the deep grass and down the steep banks to the rushing water below. We dared each other to leap from boulder to boulder, cheering the victors like gold medal winners in the Olympics. I re-visited that same creek not too long ago. The grass didn't seem as long as I remembered and the banks weren't as steep. The biggest disappointment though was the boulders. No longer giant slabs of granite, they had become ordinary, grey stones that were easy to walk across with minimal effort. It’s simple to cite perception as the reason for the drastic differences. So how do you explain it in reverse?

 

Lately I've noticed that it's almost effortless for me to deal with situations & emotions in front of others. I switch into "fix it" mode. No matter how large or painful the issue, it becomes as insignificant as the rocks in the creek. Crisis averted. Disaster avoided and all is fine, until I am alone. In my solitude, the thoughts and feelings I pushed away come crashing back like waves in a storm. No longer insignificant they pull at my heart, catching it in an undertow of emotion and I struggle to swim back to the safety of shore.

 

Which is real: big or little, strong or fragile? Maybe neither one, maybe both.

Alone in a crowd

"What's the difference? You weren't looking anyway." - What Dreams May Come

 

Try this experiment. Ask someone "How are you?" and see what they say. Most likely the answer will be "Fine" or "Good" and then the person will walk away. There won't be time for follow up and the answer they gave will most likely be a lie, or at least not the whole truth. Try this experiment again for the rest of the day and see what happens. Try if for a whole week but the results will seldom deviate. How many times have you answered "Fine" or "Good" to the question posed earlier? How many times has it been the honest answer?

 

We've become a society that doesn't listen and so we have also lost the inclination to tell the truth. We act surprised when tragedies happen, protesting that we "had no warning" but the truth is that we didn't listen. We didn't have the time, or more perversely, we didn't care. We bombard our senses until we are numb to the world around us and then wonder why we feel alone.

 

I tried the experiment above last week. My results weren't surprising as much as sobering. When I wanted to share good news, there was no one to listen. When I tried to provide comfort to someone I knew to be in distress, they were unable to share. It lead me to wonder what the point is in talking if no one really listens.

Voices

“Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.” - Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

 

Memories are funny things. A sight, a smell, even a sound can lead you down the garden path and through a door into your past. For me it was the question "What did your mother teach you?". And it didn't so much as lead me down a garden path but forcibly drag me kicking and screaming before flinging me over a cliff into a muddy pit. The list of what she failed to teach me is significant and the list of what she did teach me is divided under the headings of healthy & unhealthy with the latter having the most entries. Yet, in spite of that, I have the voice in my head that says "But she is your Mother".

 

That voice is the one that I give into every time. It's the one that makes me want to cry and then instead restrict for ever fighting against it. It's the voice that tells me that nothing I ever do will be good enough. It accuses me in every way possible and leaves no room for amends. It drives me until I am ready to drop and then berates me for selfishness.

 

And yet...

 

Every once and awhile another voice sneaks in between the accusations. It's soft and soothing. It says that everything doesn't have to be perfect. It says that it's ok to get angry and it's ok to cry. It speaks of a place where there is safety. It promises time to rest, and for a moment the voice of accusation doesn't seem so loud.