Heartbreaking

On Saturday, I did something I never thought I'd do. I stood up in front of approximately one hundred people and said words to the effect that "my life has been heartbreaking, from the moment of my birth onward." And that's the truth -- I won't elaborate, because if you have read more than a handful of my blogs, you have some idea what I mean. But this is the first time I literally stood up and verbally said those words (with no further explanation) into a sea of faces. Not surprisingly, I have experienced an emotional roller coaster since then, made even more traumatizing by the fact that the national spectacle in front of us reminds me of me trying to operate in my family and much of my life -- a strong, creative, intelligent, well-intentioned, ethical, reasonable "case" being met by a brick wall of "no."

The fact is (and this may be the reason I could never have become a lawyer), the minute you have to "argue a case" with the black-hole-that-isn't-love, you have already lost. The black hole doesn't listen. It simply sucks in everything that comes near it, and you lose yourself, and everything you hold dear.

In the midst of this week's confluence of remarkable events, it is clear that the answer is not to fight harder, adding to polarization and the conflagration of fear. The answer isn't found in focusing on any of the world's black-holes-that-aren't-love. I must increasingly "reference"/model/stand for only love/beauty/creativity/truth/integrity/joy. In a sense, this is exactly what has made my life so impossible so far, but going backward isn't an option either. I've embraced my broken heart, stood her up for all to see, and I think it's helping me love her more.

Blog 500: Lake Superior Freezing Over

Hard to believe. My 500th post. I am at the beginning of a three month, what?, retreat/hermitage/mystic-being-a-mystic time that lasts until Easter. I mean, I'm still getting out most days on the city bus to do grocery shopping, use the library computer, see friends, etc. However, my focus is on finishing my book and listening to any and all inner leadings that may surface during this time. It's easier to do at this season of the year. Yesterday began at something like -13 degrees F, with wind chills down in the minus thirties. The sky was brilliant blue, and as anyone knows who has traveled to or lived in this environment, everything seems sharp, clear, almost shockingly so.

I sat looking out the window and stared at the big lake, which is starting to freeze around the edges. Something happened that has never happened to me before, which is that a poem started to write itself. So I grabbed pen and paper, and the result is here. Whether it is a good poem or not, I'll leave to others, and whether it's really about the lake or me, I also don't know. But I share it with my ever-indulgent readers, with thanks for still being there after four-and-a-half years.

Freezing Over

I am freezing over.
Some say I have been frozen all along,
Creaking, groaning,
Inarticulate.
But you weren't listening, were you.

Beware my placid surface
Beware the white sheen that goes as far as the
  eye can see.
Nothing is happening, you say.
But it is happening. It is happening.
I will thaw in the spring.
And this year
You will hear my voice.
It will be all that is audible.
It will be all that is sensible.
Any more.

Epiphanies

I love the word and the concept of  "epiphanies," whether in the religious construct, the literature construct, or just in life. And this year -- 2020 -- seems like a good one for them. I am sure we'll all get sick of references to clear vision and clarity this year; yet I love the prospect of a clear-seeing year. Eyesight is particularly precious when your glasses correct 20-800 vision to near 20-20. In the new year, I wish all of us the ability to really see and understand what is happening.

Sure enough, almost as if on cue, the news gave us something to lurch us into clarity, if we're ready for it. For me, putting aside the particulars of this current event, it's just a case of, when will we (the human race generally) get sick of conflict? All conflict? When will we wake up from this nightmare of duality? The curse of the "versus." Conflict never ends when you believe there is a frightful "other" with whom you must fight. I am so done with it all, the revenge, the retaliation, the reaction, the lines in the sand, everything done in "response" to something. Will this be the year that we finally grow out of this paradigm?

Maybe I was born with it. Maybe I developed it because of being a choral musician and artist; I don't know. All I know is that I can only seem to see and tolerate a unified field of harmony and beauty. I have no room in my 60-something life for conflict of any sort. In situations where I realize I am or have been angry (writing my book is bringing some of this to the surface), this is my internal issue. I am responsible for the pain I feel, and I need to heal myself and walk through the epiphanies I am having, not lash out at others.

Not everyone is there yet. But those of us who have "re"tired from (or are just plain tired of) the world of conflict have an excellent opportunity this year to model non-reactive action. We can use this rocky historical moment to release the beauty and harmony hidden in our cores, in our own ways. We can choose to model true creative power, not destructive reprisal.