Love Completely Without Complete Understanding

“We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? Help,” he said, “is giving part of yourself to somebody who comes to accept it willingly and needs it badly. So it is, that we can seldom help anybody. Either we don’t know what part to give or maybe we don’t like to give any part of ourselves. Then, more often than not, the part that is needed is not wanted. And even more often, we do not have the part that is needed. It is like the auto-supply shop over town where they always, say, ‘Sorry, we are just out of that part.’”

I had a conversation with a friend recently wherein I felt absolutely helpless to help him. He reminded me of Paul Maclean in the story, A River Runs Through It, by Norman Maclean.

In that story, Paul is the younger of two brothers. He is wild and untethered—free as a bird, popular, and a very big fish in a very small pond.

Except… he isn’t wild and free. He is tethered to the depth of his own pain, to his sense of unworthiness and his tendency towards heeding the call of spirits, gambling, and showing the world just how tough he really was. He was feisty and stubborn, to say the least.

Norman is the square older brother who follows the rules. He’s the writer—the one who tells stories on paper, the one who goes away to college, the one who seems… quieter. Not as shiny. More sensible, and therefore more boring.

I have always felt a deep connection to the story. To the lyrical turn of phrase in Maclean’s writing, to the sentiment behind loving family without fully understanding them, to feeling constantly misunderstood and under-estimated.

I watched the movie version of this story today, in hopes of finding a deeper understanding of what my friend is currently going through, or possibly a different way to connect with him that might be more helpful.

Instead, I found myself in a pile of tears as I realized another layer of understanding of my own family, my own sister, and my own appointed role in it all.

It hit me that Wendy was much like Paul. She defied the rules of our parents with a ferocity and unapologetic glee that I rarely see depicted in books or on screen. And I, of course, am like Norman...

In one scene of the movie, Paul, Norman, their mother, and their father (a preacher, played by Tom Skerritt) are sitting around the dinner table. They all turn to Paul and ask him to tell a story. Instantly, my mind flashed back to the tales Wendy used to tell—dramas about her kids, her man, her work. Or maybe something about the fire chief, a fire the community rushed to put out, or maybe another story about another animal that had found her.

I watched through blurry vision from my tears as Paul stammered, searching his memory for a story to tell.

Quietly, Norman says, “I’ve got a story.”

Three pairs of eyes turn to him, and he softly says that he’d been offered a professorship at the University of Chicago. A moment of deep pride shown on his face as for once—Norman took the spotlight in his own family.

The camera pans to Paul (played by Brad Pitt).

The look of pain and unworthiness in his eyes is incongruent with the loving smile that has crept across his face: a genuine mix of disappointment in himself and pride for his brother’s hard work and good fortune.

I know that look.

I know it all too well.

But there is another layer to this story.

Towards the end of the movie, Paul, Norman, and their father go fly fishing. Norman and the preacher sit high on the banks, tired from catching their own trout, as they watch Paul scope out the river and finally spot a fish he wants to try and capture.

They watch in silent awe as Paul artfully sweeps the fishing line out across the water. It lands inches away from the fish, and it latches on—taking Paul for quite the ride down the sharp rocks and rushing waters of the Big Blackfoot River. That fish is so big, so strong, that it’s all Paul can do to simply hold on to the line as he’s whisked downstream.

Eventually, the water calms, and Paul comes up for air. He captures the fish, reels it in, and proudly holds onto it as Norman and their father look on with amazement.

Norman narrates, “At that moment, I knew, surely and clearly, that I was witnessing perfection. My brother stood before us, not on the bank of the Big Blackfoot River, but suspended above the earth, free from all its laws, like a work of art. And I knew just as surely, just as clearly, that life is not a work of art and that the moment could not last.”

Soon after that perfect moment, Paul was killed.

“Do you think I could have helped him?” he asked.
“Do you think I could have helped him?” I answered.
We stood waiting in deference to each other. How can a question be answered that asks a lifetime of questions?

(I have asked myself that question about my sister. I know my dad has, too.)

I was fortunate to witness my sister's perfection.

I saw the way she fell head over heels in love with motherhood. Not with her older children, but in her later years, when she had Kasey. I’d never seen such awe, such patience, and such flowing love in my sister as I did when Kasey came into our lives.

My sister’s perfection was a bright shining beacon in that brief time. She had darkness. She had pain. But Kasey opened her heart in a way she’d never been open before, and when that happened, I knew I was witnessing magic. And that magical love spilled over onto her other children, as she realized, perhaps for the first time, that these beings had shaped her, changed her, and defined her in the best possible ways.

I’ve been missing Wendy a lot lately. I realized earlier this weekend that I can’t quite remember the exact color of her eyes, and what they looked like. I can see them in pictures, of course—but when I close my eyes and picture her face… the details have started to fade.

I miss my family.

And I often feel like I’m supposed to live this huge life to make up for my mom’s and sister’s lives being clipped so short. As if I owe them, or my family, or myself, or some other entity, or all of the above, because I’m still here.

I know that isn’t logical.

But grief never is…

“It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us.”

“…you can love completely without complete understanding.”

Three Wishes. No, Four. OK, Maybe Just One...

"Forgiveness is not much of a concept without something for which to forgive and be forgiven. Healing has no meaning in the absence of illness. Peace is no treasure at all to those who have known no war and no strife. Saying hello has no joy in it without the saying of good-bye."
--Robert Benson

I have three wishes for myself.

I would really like to stop being so damned hard on myself. I’m so tired of it, and it’s just not working for me anymore. The payoff I used to get (of getting to be the victim) isn’t something I want anymore, even in the short term. So now, it’s just painful.

You’d think that would be easy to change, right? Well, it’s proving to be a little more challenging than I originally thought. I’m not sure how to work hard and live my life well in an entirely positive way, where I’m not beating myself up at every turn. What I’m afraid of is that I’ll slip into lazy-ville. It’s so easy to do, after all. If I’m not working hard, then I must be lazy.

Extremes… black and white… don’t exist in reality. Life is colorful and yes, there is even gray mixed in as well.

So how do I find the balance?

After all, this is a life-long habit I’m trying to break.

The other thing I’d like to do is directly related to not being so hard on myself. I’d really like to state an intention, and then once I recognize that intention as feeling right and good—follow through with it.

No more balking, no more fear, no more hem-hawing, no more doubting myself, no more trash-talking myself and/or my abilities or worse—my self worth, no more not trusting me.

In other words—I want to cut the drama and just do it.

You might have ascertained by now that I’m what’s referred to as a bit of a “head case”, meaning I spend a lot of time analyzing myself, my actions, my inactions, my thoughts, my feelings, etc.

In fact, and I think I’ve mentioned this here before, but the rather amazing therapist I saw last year during the heat of the divorce said I’m the most self-analytical person she’d ever met.

That… says a lot coming from a therapist.

So, getting out of my own head is not only something I want, it’s something I need. It’s something I absolutely crave.

Yoga helps me with this. If I’m not fully present during a class, then I can’t do any of the poses. I can’t even come close. And the only time I can even attempt yoga at home is when I’m fully present.

What I’m noticing, though, is that I also really limit myself. Yoga practice has really brought that to the forefront of my awareness. I’ll sometimes automatically swear off a pose just because I don’t think I can do it.

So, the third thing I’d like for myself is to kick my self-imposed limits to the curb. I’d like to set myself free from the bondage and chains I’ve put myself in.

I’ve worked really hard on all three things over the past year and a half, in big areas of my life. And I’ve done well with shedding fear, limits, and being overly critical of myself in big, important ways.

It's the day-to-day where I need a little work. What I’ve recognized is that the habits of succumbing to fear, being overly critical of myself, and limiting myself, are well-engrained in me. And, like anything, a lifetime of practice doing something a certain way is not broken with a single monumental action to the counter. After that action, it takes diligence, practice, and effort.

And, one other very important ingredient…

Grace.

Most of all, I would like to learn how to give myself grace…

“Grace means more than gifts. In grace something is transcended, once and for all overcome. Grace happens in spite of something; it happens in spite of separateness and alienation. Grace means that life is once again united with life, self is reconciled with self. Grace means accepting the abandoned one. Grace transforms fate into a meaningful vocation. It transforms guilt to trust and courage. The word grace has something triumphant in it.”
 - Yrjo Kallinen 

“Above all the grace and the gifts that Christ gives to his beloved is that of overcoming self.”
 - Saint Francis of Assisi

So, how exactly am I going to do that, you ask?

In the great words of Philip Henslowe, as quoted from one of my favorite movies, Shakespeare in Love: "I don't know. It's a mystery."

Openness is Relative, Especially When Meeting New People

My last post was about love and openness.

Openness… is relative. Recently, I’ve delved into the world of online dating. I have a feeling it’s going to take me a long time to find someone who will see me for who I really am, and who will love me just for being me.

That’s okay. I’m not in a rush.

Because I suspect it will take a while, I thought I would get a head start and put up a profile on two sites. You never know, after all, when love is going to have its way with you, and I remain open to the possibility.

But I do wonder if, when I’m first getting to know someone, maybe I’m a little too open. I think it takes people off guard, to come across someone who will really talk about anything, at least to an extent.

Part of me says, "I am who I am, and if that scares off a dating prospect, then phooey on him!"

But I'm not sure it's that simple.

I’m used to being around Pathways folks, who sort of let it all hang out, all the time. When I’m talking to someone random, though, that sort of openness doesn’t usually translate.

My problem is… I have become practically incapable of small talk.

I have to wonder, though. Do people really expect the worst? Do they think that because I am open, and curious, that I must also be a little nuts? Or that I have a hidden agenda? Or something else? Clearly, I’m missing something…

Or is it just completely disarming and frightening to come across someone who is willing to talk and share about meaningful things?

It was actually easier to do the online dating thing back when I was so closed up and actually trying to show myself off as being totally perfect. But now that I am unafraid to admit that I am flawed, and now that I’ve stopped trying to be so damned perfect, what I’m finding is that authenticity doesn't seem to be good advertising.

The flip side of that coin is… do I really want to attract someone who is looking for perfection?

The answer is, of course… no.

Perhaps it's about balance. Learning where that line is between the light-hearted getting-to-know-you chatter where you ask questions like, "Where's your favorite vacation spot?" to the more serious and potentially thought-provoking questions like, "What do you  really want in a woman?"

Because after I ask that question... if the answer the other person provides has some real substance to it, I can dive in for deeper questions pretty fast. And real questions, real substance, can, as it turns out, send someone for the hills faster than I ever expected.

Hey, this is a learning experience for me. I'm dating again, for the first time in 10 years. Along with all the other things I'm doing again, for the first time in X number of years... I mean, come on. You didn't expect me to do it perfectly the first time around, right?

I'll be happy if I get it right, ever.

When it comes to balance... well. I tend to have some trouble with that.

Balance isn't about being perfect and centered. It isn't something static. It's about the small adjustments we constantly make to attempt to get to 'balance'. It's a verb. And sometimes it's about falling, laughing at yourself, and doing it again. - Patti's yoga teacher*

So, I am content that finding someone just right will take a while. In the mean time, I view this as a learning experience, and I do hope that along the way, I will at the very least have some fun and hopefully meet some great people.

And perhaps learn some balance along the way, laughing at myself when I fall down.


*I have every intention to actually get this person's name...

Wordless Wednesday - Joy Necklace

"What I know for sure is that you feel real JOY in direct proportion to how connected you are to living your truth." - Oprah Winfrey

Growth Spurt

"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."

--Anais Nin

Lately I feel like I’ve been too focused on where I come up short.

That’s a long measuring stick, I tell ya.

So, today, I’d like to tell you that I am growing. Anytime I feel too comfortable with the way I feel and where I am in life, I know a growth spurt is coming. I brace myself, yes—but I’m never quite ready for that wave of reality holding the mirror up, nose to nose, and it blows me over every time.

But, I get up.

I keep getting up.

And I keep dusting myself off.

And I keep learning.

I’m not sure where this journey is taking me, but with each growth spurt, I gain a little more insight, and in the end, my light shines brighter than I ever thought it could.

I’m in the middle of a growth spurt right now, in case you were wondering.

If I have a grand and picturesque image of what I’ve learned once I’m on the other side, I’ll be sure to share.

Chances are, though, the main lesson is to stop thinking so dang much and live my life. My ratio of thinking to doing has gone a bit out of whack here lately—I was sick for about 3 weeks, and I think that was a big catalyst, because my body forced me to slow down, but my brain didn’t slow down accordingly. I got to thinking too much, and, well—

Here I am.

It’s difficult for me to have compassion towards people who complain about things in their life, and then refuse to actually do anything to change those circumstances. 

I think it bothers me so much because I used to be like that.

But, I am learning each day that compassion for others, and above all—for myself, is a treasured gift, and you never know when that compassion will open someone’s eyes to a turning point in their heart.

“Be patient with everyone, but above all with yourself. Do not be disturbed because of your imperfections, and always rise up bravely from a fall. Daily make a new beginning; there is no better means of progress in the spiritual life then to be continually beginning afresh, and never to think that we have done enough.”

-- Francis de Sales

Weekend Countdown?

Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted. --Randy Pausch, Last Lecture

Thank you to everyone who commented about  the rejections... I'm trying not to be upset about it anymore. It just doesn't seem right to toss energy into something that's giving me nothing back. I'm sure that later this year I'll look back at this moment and realize that if the Etsy Dallas thing had panned out, I never would've been available for xyz opportunity.

Yep. That's how I'm gonna think about it.

There is always room for improvement. I know I need to spend more time getting better photos of my jewelry. I'm experimenting on sunny days and I think some of my more recent photos are much better-- but much of the jewelry on my Etsy site has poor photos. I recognize that.

I also need to post items more regularly. I'm not sure whether that's something that worked against me or not when it came down to judgment time, but it may have. 

I know I need to get a brand... hell-- I'm still undecided about using linda lee studio as my "brand" ... I like it but I don't. I can't get the .com and that's annoying. All the good ones I can come up with are taken! The only thing that isn't taken is my name, because, well, I own that already. So I've been thinking about switching to using my name.

*sigh* I am undecided there. 

I wish I could have someone run the business and logistics side of everything-- post my stuff to the internet, create my logo, maintain my website, mail stuff, etc... so I could just be free to create.

Although-- I think I wouldn't mind doing all that other stuff if I didn't also have a full time job. Oh yeah, that...

This week is already proving to be challenging. There have been lots of those lately. We're nearing the end of a huge project at work, so everyone is putting in lots of hours. At the end of this week I'm pretty sure we're all going to collapse in a tired, aching heap of exhaustion. Maybe we'll have a few margaritas first.

I should have a bit of a lull over the next couple of weeks. Lulls always make me incredibly nervous. I've had a "lull" turn into 8 weeks of no work... or even longer... and with the economy being the way it is, it's difficult to not worry about it.

Things will work out. They always do.

Don't they?

Anyway, back to the actual reason for my post! I got some gorgeous tourmaline in the mail today. I've been anxiously awaiting it, and it arrived today... on a Monday... so now I have to wait all week to play with it!! Here's the strand:

Isn't it gorgeous?? You just don't see blues like that often in tourmaline. I can't WAIT to play!! I already know that what I make is likely going to go into my own jewelry box. All my best pieces do, and these beads are calling for a spectacular design, indeed.

So, I guess that's it for now. If you haven't already checked out my blog feature over at Macaroni & Glue, go check it out now! 

I have to admit that since I've opened up my blog to talk about more than just jewelry, I itch to write here far more often. I s'pose that if you actually read this blog... you've noticed that already. ;-P

Brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. They're there to stop those who don't want it badly enough. --Randy Pausch, Last Lecture

I'm glad you're here, reading. 

Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day, and don't be afraid to say hello!