I made a little plaque once to hang on the wall, it said: "Realizing I am not responsible for the outcomes frees to me to do the footwork for which I am responsible." It wasn't until recently that I really got it. I AM NOT IN CONTROL OF HOW MY LIFE TURNS OUT. While this proclamation is terrifying on one level it is also the key to freedom.
We are told from the time we are very little that we are in control of our own destiny - a quintessential Western ethic. It is a big fat lie. Bill Gates didn't get rich because he was the ultimate computer geek or business wizard (although he may very well be both). He got rich because he was in the right place at the right time and took advantage of the opportunity.
I think that is the best we can do: do the footwork, prepare for the opportunity and seize it if it comes our way. We have no way of knowing what life has in store for us. We have to learn to trust in ourselves, that we can handle whatever life dishes out. We have to learn to be present in the here and now. We are guaranteed nothing else.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Day 188
I just finished teaching a nine week online class. There was a student in the class who posted a number of angry responses to course materials and discussion forum comments from me and other students.
One of the things I enjoy about teaching online is the opportunity to slow a conversation down. When a comment is posted that is obviously coming from a place of anger or frustration there is an opportunity to read and reread it, taking time to understand and develop a thoughtful response. This kind of careful attention seldom happens in face to face interaction.
What I learned about this student through our interaction is that her anger and frustration were only tangentially related to the course content. She came to the classroom with a "chip" and the classroom became a place for her to act on her feelings. I was able to see this because I didn't get hooked and drawn into her pathology. I was able to remain detached and observe.
The student became the teacher.
One of the things I enjoy about teaching online is the opportunity to slow a conversation down. When a comment is posted that is obviously coming from a place of anger or frustration there is an opportunity to read and reread it, taking time to understand and develop a thoughtful response. This kind of careful attention seldom happens in face to face interaction.
What I learned about this student through our interaction is that her anger and frustration were only tangentially related to the course content. She came to the classroom with a "chip" and the classroom became a place for her to act on her feelings. I was able to see this because I didn't get hooked and drawn into her pathology. I was able to remain detached and observe.
The student became the teacher.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Day 187
So often I have felt worry, fear and anxiety descend on me, like the steely jaws of an iron trap. I tried to find a way to free myself short of gnawing off a limb. The strategies I employed over the years were varied and many.
A made a bracelet once that I wore to guard against this entrapment. It had beads with letters that spelled out L-E-T I-T B-E. When faced with a fear provoking circumstance I would look down at the bracelet and hear the Beatles singing in my ear. Other times I would do what all good and desperate agnostics do. I would recite a verse from the Bible: 1 Corinthians 2-9: "Whatsoever things are good...Think on these things."
There was one strategy that I found particularly effective. I would hold up a tightly clenched fist and meditate for a moment on the feelings associated with holding on. Then I would slowly open my hand and fully experience the sense of release. It was reminder of just how simple "letting go" can be.
A made a bracelet once that I wore to guard against this entrapment. It had beads with letters that spelled out L-E-T I-T B-E. When faced with a fear provoking circumstance I would look down at the bracelet and hear the Beatles singing in my ear. Other times I would do what all good and desperate agnostics do. I would recite a verse from the Bible: 1 Corinthians 2-9: "Whatsoever things are good...Think on these things."
There was one strategy that I found particularly effective. I would hold up a tightly clenched fist and meditate for a moment on the feelings associated with holding on. Then I would slowly open my hand and fully experience the sense of release. It was reminder of just how simple "letting go" can be.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Day 186
Yesterday was the fourth of July; patriotism was the word of the day. I turned on the television and saw a choral group made up of military veterans singing The Star Spangled Banner.
I know that I am not supposed to question but is this country really the "land of the free and the home of the brave?" Did these young people with their angelic voices join the military because they were brave or because they couldn't find jobs to support their families? Were they fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan to secure freedom or to secure oil?
We enjoy the swell of pride that accompanies patriotic thought but I fear that it lulls us into a state of complacency. If we truly love our country don't we owe it to ourselves and to each other to ask the hard questions? Siddhartha said with deceptive simplicity, "Question everything."
I know that I am not supposed to question but is this country really the "land of the free and the home of the brave?" Did these young people with their angelic voices join the military because they were brave or because they couldn't find jobs to support their families? Were they fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan to secure freedom or to secure oil?
We enjoy the swell of pride that accompanies patriotic thought but I fear that it lulls us into a state of complacency. If we truly love our country don't we owe it to ourselves and to each other to ask the hard questions? Siddhartha said with deceptive simplicity, "Question everything."
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Day 185
I subscribe to the belief that everything worth saying has already been said. And still I continue talking and writing. Why? I guess I hope that by some act of grace I might say or write something that will lead to insight and understanding, something that will change me or someone else, something that will change the world in some small way.
It must have been an act of grace from which Rumi uttered these words:
"Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don't open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down the dulcimer."
I think Rumi said it all. For today I have nothing else to add.
It must have been an act of grace from which Rumi uttered these words:
"Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don't open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down the dulcimer."
I think Rumi said it all. For today I have nothing else to add.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Day 184
One of the most difficult things in life is seeing those we love suffering. Unfortunately, the only thing more pervasive than our own suffering is the suffering of others. Everywhere we look there are people struggling with unsated desires, everything from the desire for material wealth to the desire to be free from pain.
I heard a story once about a guru who was dying from a rare and painful form of cancer. His students came to him and said, "How could this happen to you, one who is supposed to be enlightened? Why are you being forced to suffer so?" The guru responded, "It is not my suffering you see, but your own."
I am trying to remember that it is not my place to judge the experiences of others. What I perceive as suffering may be an important life lesson. Who am I to try to stand between the ones I love and their pain? That pain may very well come bearing gifts that I cannot understand.
I heard a story once about a guru who was dying from a rare and painful form of cancer. His students came to him and said, "How could this happen to you, one who is supposed to be enlightened? Why are you being forced to suffer so?" The guru responded, "It is not my suffering you see, but your own."
I am trying to remember that it is not my place to judge the experiences of others. What I perceive as suffering may be an important life lesson. Who am I to try to stand between the ones I love and their pain? That pain may very well come bearing gifts that I cannot understand.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Day 183
I take a lot of pleasure in the titles assigned to some books. One of my favorites is Map of the World (Jane Hamilton). This title speaks to the way that we each carry with us a unique map of the world that we use to navigate our way through. Our worldview changes over time in response to circumstance.
It is difficult for individuals to understand each other because no two maps are the same. I enjoy spending time with people who have maps of the world that are very similar to my own. Of course I learn much more from people who do not.
Yesterday I spent time with a person who has a map of the world that I hardly recognize. She sees danger where I see opportunity. She is cautious when I want to forge ahead. She has her feet firmly planted on the ground while I dream.
We talked for well over an hour before I came to realize that we share much in common: we are both parents who value the relationships we have with our children; we are both feminists in the sense that we advocate for women; and, perhaps most importantly, we both want to be seen and heard and appreciated. These are the corners of the world for which we share a common map.
Maybe these are the places we should dwell together.
It is difficult for individuals to understand each other because no two maps are the same. I enjoy spending time with people who have maps of the world that are very similar to my own. Of course I learn much more from people who do not.
Yesterday I spent time with a person who has a map of the world that I hardly recognize. She sees danger where I see opportunity. She is cautious when I want to forge ahead. She has her feet firmly planted on the ground while I dream.
We talked for well over an hour before I came to realize that we share much in common: we are both parents who value the relationships we have with our children; we are both feminists in the sense that we advocate for women; and, perhaps most importantly, we both want to be seen and heard and appreciated. These are the corners of the world for which we share a common map.
Maybe these are the places we should dwell together.
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