Colleen - The Happy Sea

copyright © 2007 Betsy L. Angert

Please sit; settle in.  Ponder the configuration.  Contemplate, and come to a world more serene than the one you imagine you live in.  Center your self and trust the woes within need not be.  Often as we dash about, dilemmas abound.  Few of us take the time to understand what we create.  Chaos is contrived.  We hide hurts, and hinder any healing.  We “communicate,” chatter, speak, shriek, and rarely listen.  We do not inquire, “How do you feel?”  Well, we do; however, our query is as insincere, hasty, or as inhibited as the average answer.

Perhaps on this tranquil day of rest you, he, she, or I might pose the question “How are you?” to our selves.  Breathe deeply and reflect.  Then, after ample thought tell your self what you have not dared utter.  Speak of the fear that kept you quiet.  Share the story with those you are close to emotionally.  Perhaps, you will discover as I have on many occasions; I never needed to veil the horrors that harmed me.

What I did that was ghastly was more so to me than it was to those that love me.  I learned long ago, in truth, I, we are less fond of me than others might be.  Those close to my heart are far more knowledgeable than I when the subject is me, myself, and I.

Take some time on this quiet day of rest and let yourself be.  Touch your heart, mind, and soul tenderly.  Cogitate calmly.  Deliberate deeply.  Ruminate restfully.  Meditate and say, “Me, meet me.” 

Please share what you sense, your story, your spirit, or as you choose.

We carry a lot inside us as we make it through the world; perhaps so much more than we ever realize. We never really know what is going on in the heart and soul of a person when we look him/her in the eyes; we may think we know; we may have suspicions, but the reality is we don’t know for certain what another person is dealing with in his/her life.

We don’t know their history; we don’t know what has shaped and formed another’s way of seeing their reality.

It’s easy to judge; give advice; and to tell people what they need, but much more difficult to be present to another; to listen without prejudice; to meet them where they are in their journey.

We do the same with ourselves. Sometimes we don’t know what is really going on inside us for we haven’t listened to our soul. We think we know; we have suspicions, but often times we don’t really know for we haven’t listened.

Ever had someone tell you what you “think”? Have you ever had someone tell you what you “feel”? Doesn’t feel all that good does it? I’ve done it; I do it; I’ve had “it done” to me. Granted, I am more conscious and aware when I feel the tendency to do it, but I know more often than not that when I am telling someone what they need, it’s more about me than it is them. And what I do, is simply create a space where a person shuts down and no longer feels safe to share.

It seems that for many, we’re just uncomfortable with the messiness and ugliness of life or if another shares something that doesn’t quite match-up with our experience, beliefs, or understanding we want to control, withdrawl, fix, judge, gossip, but rarely are we simply present and listen.

For me, when I pour out my heart, soul, life, and pain to another and he/she is simply present and listens, I heal. I thank God for the people who have been vulnerable before me; it draws me closer to them, God, and myself. When I get unsolicited advice or am “told” what I need, I usually shut down. I suspect when I give unsolicited advice or “tell” people what they need, I play God, and they shut down.

We need one another other, and when we are simply present to one another, without all the advice, should, oughts, and “you need to”) the ground is level for us to come face to face with each other and see one another for who we are.

I saw a man at church. My eyes were drawn to him during the sermon. There was something going on inside him, and I wasn’t sure what it was? It was “obvious” he was bored and not paying attention; it was “obvious” that he had no interest in the sermon; I wonder why he showed-up? Did he think he was supposed to? Why was he there? It wasn’t until after the service that I learned that he had just lost his son. There I was, thinking I knew, without having a clue. I wasn’t harsh or judging, I just imagined that the man was bored as the sermon was delivered; little did I know; little do I know.

I can’t imagine the pain; the loss; and the utter disillusionment this man must be experiencing.
I know my personal experience of loss, and I know each of us grieves differently, and I suspect the best I can offer him is to be a loving incanational presence. To assume I know would be playing God.

For me, I need a safe place to tell my story and hear the stories of others. I don’t have it all figured out; all I truly have is my experience, strength, and hope. I can tell you my theology, but I am not so sure what that really means in the whole scheme of things. I don’t know, maybe deep down my experience, strength and hope is my theology. I can tell you what I believe, but I am not so sure how that will impact your reality, especially if you are convinced what I should believe or am supposed to believe and vice versa.

Nick Tarleton commented on my last post, saying:

Conjecture: some people, through some psychological quirk, interpret “opposition to X” as “not wanting any instance of X to exist” - so if you’re opposed to aging, you must want to eliminate all instances of aging in the world, i.e. kill old people.

Conjecture 2: some people conflate judgments about the desirability of traits or states with judgments about the inherent worth of people with those traits/in those states. Evaluating aging as bad is tantamount to evaluating aged people as worth less than the young.

I’ve been thinking about these conjectures since yesterday, and I really do think Nick has hit the proverbial nail on the head here. While the people who oppose longevity medicine obviously vary in terms of their reasons for doing so, I am wondering now if perhaps some of that opposition is rooted in a sense that it is wrong to “medicalize” aging. And as someone who generally prefers the social model of disability to the medical model, I can understand, if not sympathize completely, with this viewpoint. Continue reading