Random Rambling
Character is doing the right thing when everyone else is willing to do the wrong, to tell the truth when others are willing to lie, to be transparent when others would hide a wrong-doing simply because it’s possible to get away with it. Character isn’t always popular; it’s rarely easy and almost never recognized at the time, but in the end and it matters. It endures the tides…
“Before you assume, learn the facts. Before you criticize, understand why. Before you hurt someone, feel…”(paraphrase, Kalifa)
When I read this quote it really resonated with me. Too often people make assumptions without knowing the facts. From these assumptions, they build stories that become the foundation of their perceived truths. They criticize and build walls of defense against an illusion, sometimes entering a battle to protect and right a wrong, starting a fruitless war that in the end causes pain for everyone involved.
Recently, I’ve seen someone slowly alienated and closed out from his group of friends. An assumption was made, without any background information or questioning, and what began as lighthearted teasing, grew into bitterness and resentment. He’s been falsley labeled, and the trust between friends has disintegrated. He knows they are missing important information, facts that totally reframe the situation, and yet he cannot and will not share them because that would require sharing information that is not his to share. His only way back into the fold is to betray a friend, to tell a confidence. So he has remained silent and alone; an unseen hero.
I’ve also been the brunt of such judgement and faulty perception. The attacks are as shocking as unmerited. I wonder what would change if they took the time to know the truth? Would they still expect the same things if they understood it was unethical? Do they place more emphasis on emotion than morality, on friendship above honor? Does a lack of information justify lack of character?
Knowing people react from a place of ignorance does not ease the sting of judgment and hypocrisy. It’s difficult to recover from the pain; the damage is multi-layered and scarring.
I learned at an early age not to react in a moment of pain or passion. Knee jerk reactions are rarely productive; words spoken without thought and examination more often than not bear rotten fruit. That’s frustrating for some people; they want to argue it out, to prove they’re right. I’d rather step away from the emotions and rest in the peace of truth. After all, you can find peace with a painful truth, but can only shadow-box a delusion.
For now, I’m going to leave the stones on the ground and strive to love.
Give it up! For Lent, that is…
Giving up something for Lent seems to have become more of a trend, a step to receiving the “I did it” badge, rather than an actual journey in spiritual life. A Twitter search reveals some of the most popular items to fast at Lent include chocolate, fast food, sodas, and even Twitter itself. One of my friends suggested she was giving up Hugh Laurie for Lent, a joke of course, and yet it occurs to me that is very reflective of the current attitude and approach to what is meant to be a profound experience in your spiritual life.
The purpose of Lent is not the fasting itself, not the act of refraining from something you enjoy. Neither is it some kind of a contemporary sacrifice of modern comfort so that we can experience a piece of Christ’s suffering now. Technically, there is no need to do that according to the Bible, for Christ’s sacrifice is already all-sufficient. No one can add or subtract from it. That is why Jesus said just before his death, “It is finished.” His work of grace and salvation was finished at the cross. The purpose of fasting is to disentangle ourselves from things that easily hinder us from our pursuit of Christ. Just as Jesus fasted in the wilderness to find strength in his walk with God even in physical weakness, we fast to focus on our walk with Him. Jesus gave up the necessities: food and water. We give up comforts and perks in life that distract us and pull our focus from Him. Hebrews 12:1 suggests, the giving up of things during Lent is a way of throwing off what “hinders,” so that we can run the race set before us.
We have somehow made Lent the race, and even reduced it to mini-sprints as we use the feast of Sabbath as a cheat. (“Sunday is coming, I can have a coke!”) Somewhere along the way someone decided there was a contradiction in the ideologies of Lent and the feast of Sabbath, so they created a way to incorporate them both into an acceptable seasonal ritual. What they actually managed to do is create another distraction. How many people now are fasting during the week with their eyes on the relief of their day to cheat? They focus on denying themselves their Lent sacrifice, finding comfort in the cheat to come, and totally miss the point.
Lent is a time of walking with Jesus, of talking to God the Father, and of sensing the moving of the Holy Spirit in our midst. It is not the taking away of something we have. It is the putting on of something we do not yet have. It is a time of shifting our focus from the repetitive and habitual tasks and experiences of day-to-day life, creating a seasonal awareness to remove the blinders so we can see the bigger picture of the resurrection of hope. The fasting IS a celebration. We don’t need to hang on to the weekly Sabbath Sunday celebration at the expense of the celebration that breaks from the ordinary things and catapults us into an intimate walk with our God. The irony in having a cheat day during Lent is it reveals we have become enslaved to religious tradition as much as our coffee, sodas and social media. Lent is meant to be counter-cultural – in weakness we find strength, in emptiness we are filled – just as the Sermon on the Mount suggested. There’s an intentional shift away from worldly perspectives to a heavenly one.
It occurs to me Lent is meant to be a break from mundane thoughts and concerns to remind believers they are not just wanderers, but on a path to spiritual maturity. The “doing” of spiritual disciplines is not as important as cultivating that relationship. The most fatal sacrifice believers can make is looking for cheats in this journey. I think next season I’m going to try for something new. I’m not going to give up Lent for Lent.
Oh, the outrage over a Coca-cola commercial!
It’s almost deafening. And yet with everything being said, it becomes more obvious how a political agenda can totally blind you to truth and prevent you from seeing even the most basic point.
In 1971, Coke released a commercial that changed the face of television advertising. It was candlelight. A light shared, one by one it spread, from one race to another, as the children of the world sang “I’d like to teach the world to sing.” The camera panned out to reveal this multicultural group actually formed a human Christmas Tree, the symbol of hope and joy. That was the song they sang: a hope for a home furnished with love, the joy of a world living in harmony. It was a song of peace that echoed in the voices of a people standing hand in hand.
To this day people remember that commercial. They remember the song and the chill that raced down their spine at such a beautiful sentiment. This melting pot we called America, a people of immigrants from every nation of the world, brought together through a common vision and a common dream, understood it wasn’t about race, color or creed. It wasn’t about religion or politics…or even language. It was about peace.
Last Sunday Coca-cola released a follow-up commercial, 43 years later. In this commercial the dream was not only still alive, it had become a reality. In this commercial, the world sang in perfect harmony. They sang in their language, from their history and perspective, from their hopes and dreams, from their home of love.
You see, the dream was never about teaching the world to sing in English. It was never a song of assimilation; it wasn’t even a song of patriotism. It was a love song.
For those who viewed this commercial and understood, a new chill raced down their spines.
“I’d like to teach the world to sing…”
They did it.
Today the world sang, and the song was America The Beautiful.
Perhaps Coke got it right again. What the world wants today is America the Beautiful, not the America lost in political agendas and self-righteous fighting.
Maybe, just maybe, if we could stop the fighting and listen, we could hear the world singing in perfect harmony: “…And crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea.“
Do you believe in fate or self-determination?
I don’t believe in Fate. It implies a lack of power and choice, an inevitability that cannot be stopped, slowed or redirected. If fate is real, why do we even try? What’s the point of thinking and analyzing, of taking any steps at all? Fate will place you where you are predestined to be no matter what you do. Why even work for a civilized society, offering justice and punishment, if the criminal is only a victim of fate, predetermined to play his part in the way destiny unfolds?
I know this is an extreme vision of fate. Yet doesn’t the very definition promote this scenario?
Fate
[feyt], noun
1. something that unavoidably befalls a person; fortune; lot: It is always his fate to be left behind.
2. the universal principle or ultimate agency by which the order of things is presumably prescribed; the decreed cause of events; time: Fate decreed that they would never meet again.
3. that which is inevitably predetermined; destiny: Death is our ineluctable fate.
4. a prophetic declaration of what must be: The oracle pronounced their fate.
5. death, destruction, or ruin.
Fate means never having to say you’re sorry. Whatever happens, “it’s just my lot”; whatever I do or don’t do, destiny will fulfill itself.
It’s similar to the religious ideology of the sovereignty of God, which is the teaching that everything is under His direct control, and nothing happens without his direction or permission. The idea appears simple: God is God, of course He’s in control. Yet, it goes against the fundamental teaching surrounding the character of God and His overall purpose of creation. He gave man (and woman) the right to choose because only within that freedom could an authentic love relationship be possible. After the fall, He provided guidelines, tools, knowledge and experiences that would help man draw back into His grace, that would allow man to walk in His power and the purity of His love. But it still involves choice. God is only sovereign if you allow him to be sovereign in your life, and even then people, circumstances and events that have not submitted to that sovereignty can have a negative impact on your experience.
The extreme sovereignty of God ideology assumes God not only has the power and right to govern all things, but that He does so, always and without exception. Within this doctrine a person should accept that murder, rape, molestation and other horrid crimes must be from God if you are walking in His will. But if God is love, and His character does not abide or tolerate any such sin, how can those acts be of God? How can sickness and crime be His will? To accept the truth of God’s character (the greatness, goodness, holiness, justice, light and love outlined throughout the old and new testaments) in conjunction with our experience here on earth, we must also accept that his sovereignity is limited by our own decisions, not just personally or independently, but as a people.
The Fate ideology is in complete opposition to self-determination.
Self-de·ter·mi·na·tion
[self-di-tur-muh-ney-shuhn, self-], noun
1. determination by oneself or itself, without outside influence.
2. freedom to live as one chooses, or to act or decide without consulting another or others.
3. the determining by the people of the form their government shall have, without reference to the wishes of any other nation, especially by people of a territory or former colony.
The self-determination ideology assumes we are the masters of our fate; we are the gods of our destiny. Whatever challenges we face, whatever comes our way, we are in control of the final outcome.
Ironically, the original idea of self-determination was more about the right of a people more than an individual creed. It was about independence, colonization and government. It was later used to expound the virtue of the human spirit, the unconquerable soul, the inevitability of the human experience to rise above defeat as a phoenix from the ashes. But, somewhere along the way, a single refrain from Invictus evolved into an ideology of hope and strength for the individual. In adopting a personalized definition, the limitations that would govern the principle were removed. Now the idea of self-determination brings with it an illusion of control, and yet one embraced by many.
It’s a bit farfetched to think we possess the control to overcome all restrictions to our freedom. I mean, we obviously cannot do anything we are physically incapable of doing. Obviously we cannot change the past, of breathe underwater without any supplemental support, or any number of things we aren’t physically designed and capable of doing. We can’t break laws of nature by our free will alone. There are forces that demand our submission in the natural world and in our physiological make-up.
I think there’s more of a middle road here. I believe it’s called “soft-determinism.”
I believe there are natural laws of the universe and powers at play that can easily be perceived as fate. There’s no way around them, and as hard as we try, they cannot be ignored. We are bound to live within the boundaries and confines of these universal laws and powers.
I also believe there is both good and evil present in the world. Although divinely separate, they do touch and intermingle, providing lights and shadows to every circumstance. This is why you can actually make all the right moves and make all the right decisions and still end up in the wrong place. It explains why people who make poor decisions seem to still obtain so many rewards, and why bad things happen to good people. It sounds like a simplified, catch-all proposition to answer all of the unknowns, and yet the evidence supports this basic premise.
What’s more, I believe we not only have free will, but we have a certain amount of dominion within the boundaries of natural law. There are moral and ethical codes at play within society that will unconsciously restrict, conform or direct some of our decisions, but in the end we do have the right and responsibility of choice. In fact, the act of not making a choice is a choice in itself. Does that mean we have control of our destinies? I don’t think so. We can control our responses to what is not within our control. We can develop and nurture our knowledge and skills to be able to make better choices. And we can be accountable for the consequences of our choices. We cannot however, control the outliers that will inevitably cross the path of choice.
A destiny that is impacted by choice, and a choice that is limited by destiny, results in a middle ground philosophy. Perhaps not a popular opinion, but it is mine. We do what we know to do, and when we know better we do better. We prepare and try to understand our universe; we submit to the natural and God laws, and we do our best to discern good from evil. Our fate won’t be guaranteed anymore than our self-determination will be confirmed, but we will have a good chance at building a life we can respect.
In the end, I am only the master of my choice.
People are funny. And I use that term loosely.
Last week Hugh Laurie used social media as an outlet to express his feelings surrounding Putin and the anti-gay laws in Russia, more specifically a recent interview in which Putin defended and followed up with this instruct: “leave children alone.” (http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/jan/17/vladimir-putin-gay-winter-olympics-children) Why not? That’s what social media is about, right? Your forum, your stage? Your platform to perform, lecture or promote as you see fit within the bounds of terms and conditions? Why shouldn’t he use Twitter as intended, as everyone else uses it?
Unfortunately, being a celebrity often comes with an unrealistic expectation of political correctness and common ground. Over the years, celebrities have begun to debunk this belief, using their status and position to spread the word and garner attention for issues and causes close to their heart, on the issues that matter to them or concern them on a moral/ethical level. Celebrities are very aware their voices will be heard. They learn very quickly to filter, manipulate and censor their words to reduce the scandal, libel and slander that chases them with paparazzi. So when Laurie makes a blatant controversial comment, he is aware of the possible and likely consequences; he is not clueless or dense. Anyone who is a follower or fan of this man is quite aware of his brilliance. That’s why it’s fascinating to me his recent tweets have caused such a stir.
You see, Hugh Laurie did what he does so well: he used his words as poetry, presenting a righteously indignant opinion through juxtaposition, a blatantly sarcastic quip that put a spotlight on the inanity of generalized discrimination and socialized ignorance. “I’d boycott Russian goods if I could think of a single thing they made besides the rest of the world depressed,” he stated.
As expected, Twitter and media outlets exploded with outrage from both sides of the issue, some in agreement with the disgust and overall idea of a boycott, others angry at such an attack on a nation. Some people felt he was clueless and insensitive, others believed he was hypocritical, noting he hadn’t hesitated to praise Russians during his tour last summer, nor had he ceased to enjoy all the country offered through art, literature, philosophy, vodka and a plethora of exports. The arguments have gone on for days and the pressure for an apology has increased exponentially.
This is where I shake my head.
In one intentionally, well-timed snide remark, Putin made a sweeping generalization that all gays are pedophiles and therefore should stay away from children. In one intentionally, fine-tuned sarcastic remark, Laurie made an equally sweeping generalization that Russia had nothing of good to offer and he should boycott. Putin’s comments are shallow, showing a lack of education and understanding that will do nothing but encourage a culture of fear and hate, certain to have far-reaching negative impact on their society and the world. Laurie flipped it around to mirror that kind of narrow-mindedness as it related to a nation rather than a segment of society. Not all homosexuals are pedophiles; not all Russians are intent on depressing people. Acts of oppression against a people will not elicit positive cultural change, nor will it solicit private and personal transformation in individuals. Boycotting a country and undermining the quality of their goods/services cannot nurture peace, nor will it increase a perceptive and empathetic aptitude that promotes personal identity, social equality, and basic humanity. The statement was clear and yet lost in knee-jerk responses and passionate debates that followed his tweets.
True to form, Hugh Laurie recognized the Keystone Cop media fervor that confused his point and diverted attention from the actual issue. He responded with a retraction, urging “good, kind Russians to stand up to the slab-faced goons who deal in this kind of poison.”
Several days later, many are still reeling from the perceived insult against the Russian cultural identity and offerings. They still fail to see the intent and poetry behind Laurie’s tweets, feeling the weight of insult over the burden of prejudice. Defending their vodka appears has become more important than defending the rights of their citizens. This reaction in itself spotlights the ignorance the actor was noting in his satire of 140 characters.
To the dismay of many, it is unlikely an apology is forthcoming, as Laurie himself made clear today through yet another sarcastic tweet. That doesn’t surprise me. Saying he’s sorry for insulting Russian goods and threatening a boycott detracts from the intended message, and would, in the minds of those already exhibiting such narrow vision and bigotry, perhaps even lend credence to the enmity to which Laurie is objecting. But he’s also Hugh Laurie, British, ironic pundit with an opinion…and a right to speak it.
Is there something in your life you want to do, but remains undone?
Well, of course. Every good procrastinator can look around and see a ton of things left undone. Anyone with a bit of ADHD can point out all of the unfinished projects littering their lives and reminding them of their propensity for distraction. For that matter, anyone with a busy life will complain of things they just don’t have time to finish. We are a people undone!
But, I wonder how many things in our life that remain undone are actually important in the big picture.
The room unpainted? The basement unfinished? The leaky faucet that still drips? These are temporary appeasements. They will add comfort and satisfaction, or perhaps even make our current situation a little better, but they are not of much importance in our greater purpose. These are simply the everyday reminders of imbalance.
Perhaps it would be something more along the lines of starting that business you’ve been thinking about, or writing that book you’ve been wanting to write. Those are more lofty unmet goals that deserves a bit of mourning. Yet, they don’t resonate with life-affirming importance, either.
What of the “bucket list,” those things we seek to do before we die? Skydiving? Sailing on the Mediterranean? Hiking in the Amazon? A spiritual journey through the Holy Land? The grand adventures of experience and travel that line the pages of our mind. These activities are fulfilling in their own right, but again, lack true emotional or spiritual significance in the big picture. Our bucket lists are often a reflection of the selfishness conspicuously absent in the dying.
It’s not easy to think about what would matter if you were facing death. I remember reading a book with my friends about living life as if you only had 30 days left to live. It pointed out that perspective changes when you know your time is limited and it posed the question(s): what would you do? What would you change? What would suddenly become meaningless and what more important? The idea was to remember that we all have limited time on earth; we forget and/or take time for granted. But if we were to start living life as if we were dying, wouldn’t we make decisions with more clarity? Move with less hesitancy? Approach each other with a more open heart?
It’s not a new idea; the self-help aisles of bookstores are lined with books reminding us to live each day to the fullest. I found the discussions in our little group somewhat amusing given this particular book was not just a self-help guide, but a kind of spiritual counseling. Instead of reinforcing church doctrines, it challenged them. It seems for many of us, some of the rules and ideologies for living a Godly life wouldn’t be as important if death was knocking. The freedom to embrace all that life has to offer in the limited time available would sometimes involve appreciating things that may be in direct contrast to religion, shedding the restrictions and walking in a very basic understanding of love, peace and simple joys.
You see, in the end, the things left undone in life that will matter, the things you will strive to repair or resolve, are the open issues of the heart. It will be less about projects and tasks, or travel and exploration; it will not be about preaching and teaching, or arguing and debate. Who’s right and wrong won’t matter as much as the goodbye and the legacy of love left behind.
I think when asked what thing I want to do that remains undone, it’s not just a question of to-do lists or unrequited dreams. It’s about addressing the disappointments and hurts, the failures and unfinished business that burden my heart above any physical, financial or mental limitation.
Harold Kushner once said “I am convinced that it is not the fear of death, of our lives ending, that haunts our sleep so much as the fear that as far as the world is concerned, we might as well never have lived.” Our real legacy is rooted in relationship, in the memories and love of those left behind.
So I think of who needs to be forgiven? Who I need to ask for forgiveness? Who needs to know I love them? I admire them? Who needs to hear why they are special? Whose life could I touch for the better with a simple act of kindness?
What are the things left undone that prevent you from living passionately and loving completely? It’s not what’s you didn’t do, or didn’t experience, or what’s missing from your life that is important. It’s the “undone” in the life you currently live that really matters.
What is left undone that would result in a truly unfinished life if you don’t address it?
Maybe it’s time to take action.
The meeting invite was accepted the day before. It appeared to be just another status meeting between the director and the project managers. As I arrived to the office that Thursday morning, it quickly became apparent this would not be just another day at the office. The air was thick with tension and I frowned at my friend and teammate who gestured to her cell phone: code for check your messages.
“Why cancel the meeting and then schedule one with me privately this afternoon unless I’m getting let go?”
I checked my emails and calendar. The meeting had not been cancelled for me.
“It’s not you,” I typed the assurance. “It’s me.”
This wasn’t my first lay-off. I knew the trademark covert moves and deceptions of a corporate lay-off. I knew the averted eyes and nervous try-to-act-normal moves. My time was up. She would be taking on my projects.
As I sat in the office with the Executive Director and a VP from corporate headquarters, I didn’t really hear the spiel. My boss was fidgeting and afraid, uncomfortable with this assignment and clearly quoting a script rather than speaking from the heart. The VP was decisive and arrogant, ready to battle any argument or negative emotions with the weapons of corporate cliche. I was just going through the motions.
I’d spent three years in a position supporting the company’s largest account, creating regular cash flow through operating projects and huge revenue from large capital projects with very little support from the organization. I’d had to think outside of the box, create alliances, tap unknown resources and generally problem solve in the most creative way possible just to get the job done. There was never a thank you or a hand offered to help, there was never any training or supports offered that would actually benefit this account. All attention was based on their future direction without any concern for maintaining the account that would support building this new ideology. It was always a battle. I had been miserable for quite some time.
“Good luck with your future,” I told them. Of course I didn’t have any questions. I knew the deal. And why argue? They’d made their decision. Why fight it? Nothing would change their minds and they were following the letter of the law. Why even question their logic and decision? Anyone can be replaced and very likely will be at some point in life. You can be the hardest working, most dedicated employee, but when it comes to financial decisions, corporate loyalties side with the numbers over individuals.
April 14, 2011.
I handed in my equipment, packed my things and left the office that day with a mixture of relief and fear, knowing with a disturbing certainty this was going to be a difficult time, but feeling there was an inevitability to it all. The economy was terrible and finding a job would not be easy; middle managers & directors were lined up at unemployment offices everywhere. I understood on a personal level the mental and emotional challenges of being unemployed. I had first hand experience with the prejudice and discrimination I would face. Being trapped in the laid-off vortex that was the aftermath of 9/11 had opened my eyes to some harsh realities. As I drove away, I sensed my course had just been altered far beyond the obvious job change.
That same afternoon we discovered my Mother had obtained the MRSA infection from a standard knee replacement surgery. I would spend the next thirteen months as her caregiver, watching an infection slowly destroy her body, but never her spirit.
Being stripped of security and shoved into the abyss of uncertainty is more than frightening. It’s life altering. Being placed on an epic path of insidious disease and loss is terrifying. It’s life transforming.
I will never regret those final thirteen months I spent with my Mother. She was my best friend. She was my hero. But it was more than just time: time to love, time to learn…time to say goodbye. It was an epic journey of courage and faith, proof of the enduring strength of the human spirit and the undeniable truth of unfailing love.
Almost two years after my mother’s death, I have still not returned to the career that once had a part in defining me. Do I miss the money? Yes. Do I miss the security of a regular paycheck? A resounding yes. Do I have regrets? Of course, but none of them involve working harder or smarter in the climb to the top of the corporate ladder. I don’t miss that at all.
I have downsized my life. I have taken on a roommate; I live in a smaller space, buy less stuff, eat less fancy, and enjoy fewer perks/amenities. I work with a non-profit that serves patients and caregivers, and take on odd jobs to supplement that income. But I have time. Time to paint, and draw, and write. Time to talk with the brokenhearted over coffee, or take a spontaneous road trip to help a friend. I have time to volunteer, time to help the needy. I have time to nurture patience and perform acts of kindness. I have time to love.
The day I lost my job – and the sense of security we all seek and desire – was the day I found time. With time, I find a better life. With time, I find purpose. With time, I find the real me.
Has anything bad ever happened to you that turned out to be for the best?
I like to give gifts. I’m a gift-giver. You know, one of those strange people who actually do find significant pleasure in giving. Perhaps that makes my gift-giving a selfish act, which in itself negates the original intent, but that philosophical quagmire will be left for another post. Or not.
Nevertheless, to me, gift-giving is a very personal thing.
I understand the reasoning behind gift cards and standardized presents. If anything, I’m regularly reminded of the reasons behind these ideologies as a result of my gifts. It doesn’t matter how much thought I put into a gift to personalize it for the individual, a memory or a relationship, it can always be distorted, maligned or just simply undermined by those pernicious character traits lurking in us all: jealousy, envy, narcissism, bitterness, ignorance, and all other insidious joy destroyers. These are the storms of outside egos, the voices and emotions that muddy the waters of good intent and miss the obvious facts, and sometimes the universal truth.
This year I gave a gift to a friend. She’s a domestic goddess of sorts, a chef in her own right and a Twitter aficionado. That’s where I met her, on Twitter. We formed an instant connection based on a common passion and similar humor, but it went beyond that. Even after we met in person, that connection was undeniably authentic. There was understanding without explanation, acceptance without justification. It was one of those relationships that just came easy.
The idea was to give her a pea pod ornament that would both mirror her foodie identity and celebrate her Twitter experience. The problem: there were only nine peas in the pod. Obviously I would not be able to fit all of her friends into the pod. But then, the idea of a peas in a pod is not to include everyone. The idiom itself is indicative of a special connection beyond fun, fandom and frivolity, right? So of course I considered my friend, who she’d met in person, what I knew of her and with whom she most felt that invisible connection. It doesn’t negate other friendships. It doesn’t even downgrade them. We all have relationships in our lives that serve varying purposes and have defining strengths. You will never be in everyone’s pod anymore than everyone will be in yours. This is truly a fact of life.
After much thought, I labeled the little peas in the pod with her nine Twitter friends. They weren’t the same ones I would choose. They weren’t the same I would choose for another friend, although I did make an exact duplicate for one friend, but it was based on a specific reason to her and her experience. This was her pod, her gift.
You can guess how it all unfolded. She was thrilled with the gift and the peas not on the pod felt shucked.
Although I think we all can understand the initial “why am I not on the pod” knee-jerk reaction, maturity and logic should be the sustaining thought. The need to be included is as normal as breathing, but when dealing with hurt feelings surrounding a perceived exclusion it’s important to step outside of yourself and look at the bigger picture.
This got me thinking of relationships and the pod dynamic.
For the most part, pods are shared. You know who would be in yours and you know you would be in there’s. That’s the connection. If you’ve ever thought, “I wish I knew them better” or “I don’t really understand them” or if you don’t really miss them on a gut-wrenching level when they are absent from your days, you probably don’t share a pod. You may like the person, you may like the idea of being included in their pod, you may even be trying to form the bond that would create a gravitational pod pull. But if you don’t organically feel that abiding connection, it’s not your pod.
We are all pod people. Traditionally, we are a part of several pods from different areas of life: a family pod, school pod, work pod, online pod, fan pod, etc. Sometimes we try to blend our peas, to unite them in one big pod. The illusion of success can be seen at parties and social events, in times of tragedy and need, but pea pods a rarely fully integrated. They are linked by an indefinable soul source.
There are also times we longingly look at pods and feel the cold from the outside looking in…all the while, surrounded by the warmth of our own pod. One of the saddest things we do as humans is ignore the peas in our pod while seeking inclusion in another pod.
I’ve been thinking about my pod(s). Who are my peas? Who are the friends I connect with beyond a shared universe, or even a shared orbit, and into a shared living atmosphere? Who are the friends I don’t have to work and struggle to connect with? The friends with whom I share a “knowing” that doesn’t really make sense to anyone but us?
Everyone in my life has a significance, a special place and purpose. We share a story, a lesson, an adventure. We share a relationship experience that matters to me. But the truth is, I wouldn’t be who I am without my peas and the safety of that pod. I’m glad I have them. I’m glad you have yours.
Who would be the nine peas in your pod? Stop a minute and give them a hug.
It’s an infection.
Those words should bring relief.
There’s an anomaly in the culture.
The blood drains from my face.
I am not afraid of cancer. It doesn’t run in my family. I don’t smoke. I eat better than most Americans and exercise regularly. The standard indicators and markers don’t loom over me, threatening to initiate an attack at any moment.
You’re going to be okay.
That’s what they told my mother.
I watched as an infection slowly destroyed her. It would only reveal itself after extensive damage had been done. They would clear it from her system, tell her she’d be fine, and then it would appear again in another part of her body, decimating yet another organ. It was an unrelenting enemy, hiding in the cellular trenches, camouflaged by the medications meant to destroy it. The infection was a black ops batallion, landing, destroying, conquering.
My mother is dead. Infections scare me.
I feel numb, and alone. There’s only a few people I would talk to about this. I can’t reach out to them.
The Hospitality House calls. There’s a guest who needs to check-in. It’s work. A distraction.
He’s from Chicago. He has salt and pepper hair, kind eyes…and cancer. As I show him around the house, we talk of history, architecture and design elements. He stands aside and watches as three other guests excitedly surround me. They tell me they want to cook me dinner, or rather dinner for the house. They want to prove they can cook too. Mostly, they just want to thank me for making them laugh so much the night before. I know they just want to feel normal again. When you’re facing sickness and loss, being viewed as more than the the tragedy becomes the greatest gift you can receive.
Tonight we’re having soul food.
He explains he has an appointment at 3 pm followed by a seminar his doctor is conducting. He won’t be back for dinner. I wish him luck. He’ll be at the Hospitality House for several weeks. I tell him to consider it his home away from home.
We have several people check-in. The house will be close to capacity tonight. It’s good. I’m busy.
A friend pays a surprise visit. We laugh and joke. I don’t want to break the mood. I don’t want to step outside of this strange and fragile bubble. I don’t want to think about it.
As dinner is called, one of the chefs pull me aside.
“You didn’t tell me we’d be cooking for white people.”
“What?”
“White people won’t like our soul food.”
I couldn’t stop the grin. “Am I not white?”
He looked puzzled and then laughed.
“No,” he said. “You’re family.”
As we all gathered around the table, eating barbeque, corn bread, chili, sweet potato souffle & peas, it felt like a family reunion.
Laughter is healing.
I am going over the books with my co-worker. My shift is ending; I’ll be off for a few days.
He steps through the door and introduces himself to my partner. He carries himself with the dignity of a king and the gentleness of a nurturing spirit.
He hands me a rose.
I haven’t had a man give me flowers since I was in France trying to break the bonds of confused American modesty to embrace French freedom. A topless me deserved a bouquet. I’m not sure why I deserve this beautiful flower tonight.
“For me?”
“Yes,” he smiled and added. “There’s more to come.”
Men facing death are not too intimidated to show their interest. It’s a double-edged sword.
We talked about his appointment and his treatment plan.
I told him about my test results…and my mother.
“It’s just an infection,” I finally said.
He takes my hand.
“Yeah,” he murmurs and looks into the distance. “It’s just cancer.”
I understand.
by G. Anne Bassett 