Ay, There’s The Rub

February 20, 2008 by Karen 

I am the biggest hypocrite I know.

Today I was out playing with my three-year-old daughter. We were having such a wonderful time. We were pirates on a ship in the sea. Then we were soaring like birds flying high over the trees. After that, we were searching for bugs and acorns in the dirt. And later still, we dressed up like fairies and hunted for berries.

Kids really know how to BE in the moment. They don’t dwell on the past or complain about what is already over. They don’t think about what they can’t do. They just focus on what they want. What’s now is now. It is evident in their play and conversation. When my daughter is enjoying herself, she is really there, in the thick of it. Lately her game is Little House on the Prairie- which she learned from her 6 year old friend. She will tell me that she is Laura and I am Mary and Daddy is Pa. Whatever we are doing as a family, we do as the Ingalls- even getting into our PT Cruiser and driving along the paved highways. She truly believes in her play. And then when it is over, it is over. “I am Zaiden,” she corrects, when she is herself once more. And happy to be.

When she is upset, it is because of right now. She’ll throw herself on the floor in a pile because she can not find a matching sock. She howls like a wolf baying at the moon if she turns and I am not the room. She kicks and screams out of frustration when she can’t reach the bear she wants or the cookie she craves. And yet when it is over, it is gone forever. She will laugh and hug and play, even while her cheeks are still stained with tears.

While we were in the throws of our play, I found myself marveling on how completely present she is- and how present she helps me to be. I started thinking that I should write about this observation. I then spent the next 5 minutes writing my essay in my mind, only to realize that I was no longer in the moment at all. How absurd, to argue with myself- leaping back and forth between being in the moment and writing about the moment in my mind- thus not actually being present at all.

It made me consider how many other things I preach but don’t practice.

Reach for the JOY? I am a professional pity party planner. And I am quite the mountains from molehills excavator.

I talk about unconditional love and letting go – and then I find myself in engaged in a screaming match that ends in a slam and a dial tone. And I find myself dwelling on conversations that are decades old, reclaiming hurt that is long since past; enslaving myself to someone who probably doesn’t even remember the incident.

I write about surrender, and then spend hours worrying about how something will turn out, hoping for some semblance of control. Grasping for my power, as though somehow I know what is best for me.

Then I realized that this is all a part of the human condition. That we need to keep learning the same things over and over. I think that when we get it all right, there is no longer a need to be in this physical body. So we keep on learning from our mistakes and the mistakes of others. And we continue to grow.

If we teach what we most need to learn, I must be a darn good teacher!

Here’s a good lesson: I have always felt that the very traits that get us into trouble in life are the very same traits that are our biggest strengths, only turned up too high. For example, I am outgoing, gregarious, confident, playful, fun. Turned up too high, I am loud, irresponsible, annoying, obnoxious, fickle. Think about it. Think about the things you love about yourself or someone you spend a lot of time with.

Confidence turned up too high is arrogance.
Organized turned up too high is obsessive/compulsive.
Generous turned up too high can be self-destructive (if you give of yourself and not TO yourself).

Over my lifetime I have excelled at bringing people together for a common purpose. I love to create community and believe it is one of my many gifts. I love to witness as friendships blossom between people I have brought together. I love to see people connect because of something that I have manifested. Yet I almost always find myself on the outside looking in, as people connect with people and sometimes leave me out of the circle. It is something that has happened so often in my life, you’d think I would be used to it by now. And there is no ill will involved. It is simply that two people connect on a level that I do not with either one. And wasn’t that my goal, to begin with?

My ability to create community is a gift. When I turn it up too high, my feelings get hurt because the very people I surround myself with find connections with others. It is loyalty turned up too high and it becomes envy. It is pride that somehow transforms to jealousy. It is passionate become possessive. That I am sensitive to other people’s needs and even my own is a gift. Turn it up too high and I take everything personally- even when the two people I have been hoping would become friends end up walking of into the sunset together, instead of feeling a sense of accomplishment, as though I had something to do with their connection, I feel left out and alone.

Just the other day, I started a book club with a friend of mine. I was so excited to once again create community- a gift that I embrace. I found myself in a sort of leadership position, where I shine. Yet I was so conscious of watching my every move that it was difficult for me to be in the moment. I was watching what I said to make sure I wasn’t dominating the floor, keeping ahold of my volume control. Be proud of what I created without being possessive. Be gregarious and lead the discussion, but don’t strangle the other voices in the room.

I believe we are all given gifts to share with the world. And when those gifts get turned up too high, they can be destructive to the person who possesses them, and perhaps to those around them. If only we had a volume control, we could keep tabs on our gifts and keep them at the level that would be “acceptable” for any given circumstance.

Of course, if you are standing outside of your self as witness, then you are not really being present, or standing in your truth, are you? How do we find the balance between being true to our nature and learning from our mistakes? How do we allow ourselves to just be and live moment by moment if we are constantly working to learn from our past transgressions and witnessing our behavior in a given moment? How do I teach my daughter to be herself, when at almost 40, I am still trying to figure out who “Myself” is? Can we be true to who we are and live among others peacefully?

All the advice I can find on this topic suggests that we live fully and BE truly who we are, in spite of our fears. I suppose I agree. But the paradox baffles. I don’t have the answer to this one. I am still learning and open to the lessons I receive in the guise of problems. Because without them, what would be the point of our being here in the first place?

Create Miracles
Kalena

Modern thoughts from modern writers:

Moderation? It’s mediocrity, fear, and confusion in disguise. It’s the devil’s dilemma. It’s neither doing nor not doing. It’s the wobbling compromise that makes no one happy. Moderation is for the bland, the apologetic, for the fence-sitters of the world afraid to take a stand. It’s for those afraid to laugh or cry, for those afraid to live or die. Moderation…is lukewarm tea, the devil’s own brew.
- Dan Millman, The Way of the Peaceful Warrior

Mistakes are a part of being human. Appreciate your mistakes for what they are: precious life lessons that can only be learned the hard way. Unless it’s a fatal mistake, which, at least, others can learn from.
- Al Franken, “Oh, the Things I Know”, 2002

When you encounter difficulties and contradictions, do not try to break them, but bend them with gentleness and time.
- Saint Francis de Sales (1567 – 1622)

Contradiction is not a sign of falsity, nor the lack of contradiction a sign of truth.
- Blaise Pascal (1623 – 1662)

How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one’s culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light.
- Barry Lopez, Arctic Dream

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