To Belong to Your Life

“There is only one life

you can call your own

and a thousand others

you can call by any name you want.”

To belong to your life is the common thread that weaves its way through all of humanity.  There are those who carry this theme outwardly through their lives and their work, such as poets, artists, healers, spiritual masters, humble teachers, and other mindful, benevolent beings.  We all, though, have a need to belong to our lives whether we do it in such an outward way or not.

This need in us to belong to something or some place or someone is born with us the day we enter this world.  For our very survival we must belong to our mother’s; newborns turn their heads to the scent of their moms opening their mouths and rooting their beings to the true north that will sustain them until old enough and strong enough to survive in this world.  A baby which has food, shelter and clothing, but lacks love, will either wither or die, failing to thrive, or live in a perpetual state of uncertainty and panic, always seeking to fulfill an unmet need.  No doubt some of our worst criminals, aggressors against society, were neglected and deprived of love and warmth and the generosity of spirit at birth and throughout childhood. 

Yesterday was our beloved national holiday, July 4^th, a testament to real Americana.  Hot dogs, beer, family picnic, swimming, fireworks and bonfire at the day’s end.  As the sun set and night fell upon our beloved celebration of all things American and free and true, with the last light of the day fading into the dark sky, a fire was lit on the beach of driftwood carried ashore by the winter waves, providing the backlighting for the children sitting along the beach wall.  All their little bodies perfectly silhouetted as they made memories in their minds that would imprint upon them for years to come.  They would remember in the cells and fibers of their beings the way this day smelled, sounded, looked; the fire a culmination of the day of friends and family that would be a signature on their hearts for always. 

These days are a part of the patchwork of the quilt of life we piece together as we find touchstones of belonging to our lifetime.  Just as the other night while I first lay in my bed alone after a long, full summer day, I was reminded in a very visceral way of my childhood bedroom and the way it felt sleeping there.  The way the moon on a hot summer night would peek in my bedroom window as it rose in the night sky and the soft touch of the night air breathing across my skin, cooling my young body.

I was transported back, if only for a few moments, smelling and sensing my childhood all across the surface of my body, my family home, my small bedroom, and the way it felt at night refreshing me, sealing me off from the turbulence that lay outside my bedroom door.  The wind and moon always had a way of transporting me not away but within my body and reducing the inner turmoil if only until the next morning.

These are not so much memories we call up to transport us from our present situation but spontaneous sensory, cellular reminders that take us into the center of all the life we have lived, all the places we have belonged.  They will continue until the life in us has gone out adding patches to our life’s quilt, a testament that we do indeed belong to our life.

(Quote from ALL THE TRUE VOWS, Collection of Poems by David Whyte from THE HOUSE of BELONGING)

Boy Talk

On July 4, 2009, my youngest, Aidan, eight years old at the time, shared with me the following translations. He said he was telling me this just so I could understand his and his brother’s "Boy Talk."

Number one, “Yo” means “Hi.”

Number two, “Whatever” means “Ok.”

Number three, “I don’t care.” means “I am doing something.” or it might mean “I am just being sarcastic.” or “I seriously don’t care so please don’t get mad at me for dumb things.”

“If you pay attention to these rules, you’ll know how I talk and I love you. Good luck!”

I wonder if these same rules apply for all boys.

I am once more planted outside in the midst of a summer morning this July 4^th2012. There is a morning chorus of cardinals and chickadees happening all around my quiet sitting and writing. A cardinal perched in the soft maple tree in front of me just finished a song. I had to search with these tired eyes in the branches to find her striking scarlet profile. What freedom in doing what you were born to do?

I have been contemplating the meaning of work. As I have said to my sons in my view of finding one’s life work -- the work we do must have meaning, whatever it may be. First, find something you love to do because you will spend lots of time doing it. Second, make it beneficial for humanity and our precious world. Third, making money is of course essential and operating from a mindset of abundance rather than poverty no matter one’s circumstance brings contentment and peace. Fourth, be generous and share.

Finding our place in the world takes practice. As children we know we are part of a family, we may have been taught that we are part of a wider circle like a church, synagogue, or community. Realizing that we are part of everything may seem so big but it is true. Everything is connected and interwoven. Finding work that brings both freedom and unity, perhaps a seeming duality, can be freeing.

“It is touching your origin – your place in this world, the place you came from and the place you belong. It is as if you were taking a long walk through the woods at twilight. You hear the sounds of birds and catch a glimpse of the fading light in the sky.” This is a quote by Meditation Master, Chögyam Trungpa, from Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior, speaking on how to “rule your world” in a way that is disciplined and dignified and also enjoyable. As he says, “You can combine survival and celebration.”



I think this is good way to think about our work and about what we commemorate and celebrate today on the 4th of July.

DRIFTWOOD

Move it that direction

Notice – sense – drift

The chorus of morning

Cheerfully awakens you

To the dawn of time

All creatures sit on this

Drifting orb

In our cosmos

Radiating confidence

To just be

I remain a piece

Of driftwood

For you, my fellow being

To land

Our individual story

Is a song

Reminding us to simply be ourselves

Do I really need to be known

In a world of unity?

The shipwreck in this

Vast sea of life

Creates the pieces that will rejoin

All possibilities to wake up!

SHIPWRECKED

I am stranded

Alone with all these others

I have been shipwrecked since the beginning

Too often expecting someone else to be my anchor

I hoped for you to pierce all this loneliness

And right my course

So I could board your vessel

The deep wounds of humanity and

All the broken hearts

Tear our lives apart sometimes

Only stillness and

The practice of quiet spaciousness

Can piece us back together

In the daily practice of parenting

These children of my life’s shipwreck

Moment by moment

I notice my body’s sensations and

The stories of my mind

I choose discerningly words of compassion

And acts of kindness

So even a shipwrecked life is good

"Darkness on the Edge of Town"

Prove It All Night

"Everybody’s got a hunger,

A hunger they can’t resist

There’s so much that you want,

You deserve much more than this"

Reading Bruce’s songs as poems, I can hear the melody and his voice, his yearning, his tender, mournful soul resounding in his words.  The quality of rawness, of naked honesty inspires me to seek within myself, to dig deeper into my heart, to access the courage to tell my story -- the story of a little girl from Lackawanna.  My daddy was a bus driver not a steel worker but I grew up surrounded by steel plant workers in our working class neighborhood.  My neighbors were all white with the exception of one black family, and all Catholic as far as I knew. 

Darkness on the Edge of Town

"Everybody’s got a secret, sonny

Something that they just can’t face

Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it

They carry it with them every step that they take

Till someday they just cut it loose

Cut it loose or let it drag them down"

Back to Bruce’s lyrics; his poems, songs, words are timeless.  I never grow tired of listening to him sing his poetry.  They sound new to me each time I hear them always evoking strong feelings and memories and broken or untried dreams.  Time seems to slip away and become irrelevant while I listen to him sing his stories.  Time becomes meaningless and there remains some fragment of me, my spirit, floating on the melody, being transported into the song, finding myself tucked between the words. Suddenly, as if it has always been there; there is a sense of self-discovery and a spotlight on myself as a young woman first in love, the tender fragile state of youth and all its possibilities.  Middle–age brings wisdom, a quality of daring and boldness, but also can leave a signature of sadness and sense of desolation for all the broken dreams left discarded along the roadside of the passing years. 

Adam Raised a Cain

"We were prisoners of love, a love in chains

In the darkness of your room

Your mother calls you by your true name

You inherit the sins, you inherit the flame

Lost but not forgotten

From the dark heart of a dream"

How many times have we thought to ourselves, if only we could be known, or know another, or even allow ourselves to truly open up to the world. This is what Bruce's words do for me, they allow me a glimpse into the other, to touch and feel the rawness of another's existence, thus growing to know myself better. 

Something in the Night

"I take her to the floor

Looking for a moment when the world seems right

You’re born with nothing

And better off that way

When we found the things we loved

They were crushed and dying in the dirt

We tried to pick up the pieces

And get away without getting hurt"

Bruce you are an artful arranger of words.  May I pay tribute to your dedication and commitment to delivering the message of broken dreams of our youth, and the fallen away, often unspoken wishes and aspirations of the common ordinary person like that little girl from Lackawanna or her mom or dad or brothers or neighbors or friends.  Aren't we really all the same, when you break it down, take off our clothes and our superficial exteriors.  We all have our joys, suffering, heartaches, longings, broken dreams, aspirations, wishes for better futures for our children. 

 

Racing in the Street

"For all the shut-down strangers and hot-rod angels

Rumbling through this Promised Land

Tonight my baby and me we’re gonna ride to the sea

And wash these sins off our hands"

This little girl from Lackawanna, turned into woman all grown up; she has been cleared for departure and is ready to take off.  We may have gotten older, passed many years, but we feel young inside our minds, it is our bodies that give us away. 

Badlands

"Talk about a dream

Try to make it real

You wake up in the night

With a fear so real

You spend your life waiting

For a moment that just won’t come

Well don’t waste your time waiting"


Move into your life, as if it is the last chance you get, your last hour on earth, and make it count for yourself, for your family, for those in your life.  Love life and love as if your life depends on it.  Be a warrior with a true heart of gentleness and fearlessness.

(All lyrics are from Darkness on the Edge of Town, Bruce Springsteen)

THE PLACE OF FEELING

Have you ever felt that you just can’t trust the place

The place of feeling

This old place of worn and tattered uncertainty

Have you ever felt that you know exactly where you are

That neither time nor space separates your soul from home

Have you ever felt that the only answer

Lies in the question residing deeply in remote spaces

Between the intake and breathing out of the unseen

Have you ever felt that our sense in this physical moment of now

Is the only real thing

Not love, not feeling, not pain, not sadness, not joy

Have you ever felt that the heart’s longing

Unearths a universal story of experience

And that differences seemingly large

Are actually only different

In their subtle nuance of the feeling of the present moment

Have you ever felt that a collapse of time and space

Can bring about a place for quietly reaching another

Love like a 22 Year Old

At this time in my life I am willing to let myself love and be opened by love. There is this sense that softening and becoming vulnerable is the only way to receive the world and there is so much profound goodness to gain.

Recently, I had the wonderful opportunity to reconnect with an old college sweetheart.  I was 22 years old when we were last together as a couple.   Even after 25 years, he was daring enough to call while on a trip home for a funeral.  Our orbits could have easily missed intersecting that evening however when I walked in my house after an evening out for dinner at Niagara on the Lake, I decided to check my home voicemail.  I couldn’t place his voice immediately.  I scrolled through the call history to find his phone number, called him only to reach a recording stating that voicemail was not activated.  I decided to give it one more shot and call back and was delighted when he answered.  Without hesitation or self-consciousness, I asked him to come for a visit that evening to my home.  I gave him almost the right directions and luckily called him after 15 minutes to clarify and point him to my exact coordinates, the Dairy Queen on my street’s corner in my wee little village. 

 A few minutes later he turned into the parking lot immediately cracking a witty remark with a big pure smile on his face, just as I always remembered him.  Back in college, he had a way of making me smile and laugh.  We returned to my house to hang out on the back patio comfortably sitting and putting our feet up on one another’s chair.   

As we talked and reminisced and laughed on a glorious summer evening in Western New York, we enjoyed ourselves quite comfortably in one another’s presence; it was fun and insightful to talk candidly about the why and how our relationship came to an end.  The obvious answer was the physical distance, with him in law school in D.C. and me in graduate school in Chicago.  Our families certainly didn’t help our cause and there was always that one first love of mine that I couldn’t quite let go. We came to the conclusion that we helped pave the way for each other’s next relationship and journey in life.  It was good to know that the heart break of long ago moved us forward in some beneficial way. 

We each talked about our respective lives and families.  He is happily married for more than 20 years with two great kids and I am happy but wishing to be married again with two wonderful children as well.  When I told him that I really long to spend my life with someone he offered, “You think too much.”  I might not have received this so well if he hadn’t said it so lovingly and sincerely following up with, “Your thinking too much is a good thing when it comes to things like decorating (he was referring to my off color corner kitchen cabinet, a centerpiece of the kitchen), but in matters of the heart, just let them happen.  There is no reason that I can see why you wouldn’t get married again, but it is about timing and being open and choice and some mutual sacrifice.”  He said all this to me while looking me square in the eyes and then saying, so sweetly that I could have cried, that I remind him of that same 22 year old girl from long ago.

Ending the evening with a smile and a big hug, he said, “See you in 20 years.”  He could make me laugh on a dime and that is the most wonderful gift of all!  I trust someday I will experience that kind of comfort and ease with someone again, someone with whom I could spend the next 20 years laughing and smiling through thick and thin.