Friendship

October 21, 2011 by scillagrace

I woke from a dream this morning feeling the hostility of people whom I thought were my friends. It made me wonder about myself and about friendship. My late husband, Jim, was a very popular person. About 300 people came to his memorial service. Collecting friends was as easy as collecting dust for him. Everyone liked him. He was easy-going, out-going, always going. He had friends from the P.B.A. (bowling buddies), friends from church, friends from music groups he was in, friends to golf with, friends he worked with, friends from Junior High School he still played cards with on occasion, friends he met through me, even, who probably liked him better. He was gifted in the social dance and spun like a well-balanced top. I admire that, and I’m not like that. Does that mean there’s something wrong with me?

Before I got too heavily into my little pity party, Steve woke up and asked me what I was thinking. Then he asked, “So, what is a friend?”

With my friends the sun and the prairie

I have never really had more than one good friend at a time. Neither has Steve. We’re both introverted, which is one way to label us. What does that mean? We go inward, downward. We get introspective and deep. We challenge ourselves, and we challenge others. Often, this makes other people uncomfortable. Steve has no problem being uncomfortable; he’s just that confident and always has been. When I feel uncomfortable or that I’ve made someone else uncomfortable, I get very judgmental of myself. I hide from the discomfort. That can make me seem aloof, I suppose. When I am with my one friend whom I trust, I can risk being uncomfortable and be honest. This is what I want most in a friendship. I have a lot of questions that I want to ask, but I’m afraid to ask most of them. It takes me a long time to feel that I’m in a safe enough space to be my questioning, challenging, unsure self. Providing that space is a wonderful gift. Really interacting with me in that space is a rare and holy experience, and one that I think I have sought out throughout my life. I have been in prayer groups, Bible study groups, leadership groups, workshop groups, meditation groups, and interactive groups of all kinds ever since my teenaged years looking for that. I thought I was just looking for acceptance, but now I think I was looking for much more. I don’t crave being social. I crave the mystery and vulnerability of authenticity. I want to feel free to go into dangerous inner territory, and I’d like a companion to help me feel safe.

Years ago, my spiritual director asked me if I thought Jim was my “soul mate”. I replied, “Sometimes.” We’d get to places of depth, and then he’d pull up. I accepted that. Then I’d go to another prayer group or walk alone in the prairie or write some poetry. It worked. We were very good companions, but different. There is no “right” way to be a friend. We aren’t guaranteed a soul-mate. Although, if you look at Yahoo news items, they will give you a list of how many friends you’re “supposed” to have and what kind and then give you 6 tips on how to make more friends. I imagine that is fear-based, and that’s what I want to avoid. “I’m afraid that no one likes me” “I’m afraid there’s something wrong with me” “I’m afraid I’ll die alone and unloved”. I am who I am. I will be who I will be. We all die on our own. I will go down to the depths with myself, if no one else, and that will be fine. God is within me, at the depths, around me, everywhere. That space that allows me to be how I am is God. There is nothing to be afraid of.

After breakfast, Steve played his favorite song. It always makes him (and now me) cry. The last verse goes like this:

His head was bent in sorrow/ green scales fell like rain/ Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.

Without his life-long friend, Puff could not be brave/ So Puff that magic dragon sadly slipped into his cave.

Life changes. Sometimes we slip into a cave and become our own best friend. We can still explore the depths there and thrill to that dangerous territory.

The Shadow Side of Abundance

October 15, 2011 by scillagrace

I’ve connected a few strands in the cobweb of my mind. Follow me, if you will.

I’ve been thinking about my shadow side, my dark side, and I’ve located an area that I think could be it. It lurks in my ego, in the part of me that craves attention for myself at the possible expense of others. This is where I am tempted to be manipulative and fake. The origins of this desire are nebulous, but I can identify manifestations in my childhood. I was daughter #4 in my family, the youngest child for 11 years, the only blonde, with a ski-jump nose and a pouty lower lip. I was cute (pardon my use of this hated word, Steve!), especially to strangers. My family used to tease me for being “touched by waiters” because every time we went out to eat, the waiter would pat me on the head or something. I loved being cute. I loved the attention because my deep-seated fear was that I was redundant. With three older sisters, there was always someone near at hand who was smarter, more accomplished, and better than me at everything. I struggled to find a niche where I could have my own spotlight. I actually found that in music, so I majored in Voice Performance in college. My mother was very musical, but a rather shy performer. I pushed myself to overcome my natural fear of being judged so that I could stand out every once in a while. This thread leads to….

Salieri in “Amadeus”. His dark ego leads him to all kinds of hateful thoughts about Mozart and about the God who favors him. This fear of redundancy gripped him. He saw the world as a competitive arena. “This town ain’t big enough for the both of us” is a theme in a lot of movies, actually. Walking to the farmer’s market today, I noticed redundancy all over. Nature is full of it. How many leaves gather in the gutter? How many stands of squash and potatoes gather for market? How many people, how many birds, how many mice or ants or whatever do we really need? What is the point of abundance and why is redundancy a bad thing? Follow “Amadeus” to….

Cynthia Nixon, who played Mozart’s maid and Salieri’s “spy”. This is the only performance of hers that I’ve actually seen. I did find an article on her when I read and researched the Pulizer Prize winning play, “Wit”. I discovered that she is in a lesbian relationship now, and she was quoted as saying that she never thought of herself as a lesbian. What she did say was that “here was this undeniable person”. That phrase stuck with me. I wonder at all the things we find redundant and ask if we are denying them. Of all the leaves that I encountered on this windy day, did I deny most of them and only notice a few? I actually picked up only one to look at it more closely.

We don’t know what to do with abundance. We can’t possibly take it all in, so we deny much of it and acknowledge only a portion. The rest we call “redundant” because we have no use for it. But Nature is abundant for some reason. Could it be that it’s not just for us? Oh, that’s hard for our egos to imagine. Think of the use of pesticides. Why in the world would there be so many little critters who eat vegetation? We don’t need them. It must be a mistake. Let’s kill them off. What’s the result? Dead soil – no humus, no living matter mixed with the rock, no space for air and water and roots.

Do we need all these beetles? Hey, maybe it's not about what 'we' need.

We live in an abundant world, and we are part of that abundance. How do we refrain from denial and keep our minds open to more than we can comprehend? The balance between abundance and scarcity in Nature keeps populations in flux and unpredictable. Therefore, I suppose redundancy has its place in an uncertain future. This is an ancient wisdom. When we eliminate redundancy because it doesn’t make sense to our economic mindset, we are dangerously engaged in hubris. Why are we allowing our seed banks to be monopolized and diminished, for instance? Why are we allowing the rate of extinction to skyrocket? Why are we allowing our denial to be imprinted on the planet? We act in ignorance because we have no choice, that is to say that we will never understand the world completely. But we need not act impetuously out of false assumptions driven by our egos.

Going Deeper

October 11, 2011 by scillagrace

‘There is something rich and alive in these people. They want to be able to breathe the Great Breath. They are like children, helpless. And then they’re like demons. But somewhere, I believe, they want the breath of life and the communion of the brave, more than anything.’

She was surprised at herself, suddenly using this language. But her weariness and her sense of devastation had been so complete, that the Other Breath in the air, and the bluish dark power in the earth had become, almost suddenly, more real to her than so-called reality. Concrete, jarring, exasperating reality had melted away, and a soft world of potency stood in its place, the velvety dark flux from the earth, the delicate yet supreme life-breath in the inner air. Behind the fierce sun the dark eyes of a deeper sun were watching, and between the bluish ribs of the mountains a powerful heart was secretly beating, the heart of the earth. — from The Plumed Serpent by D. H. Lawrence

Steve and I are reading this novel aloud. The chapter that follows this quote describes a sensual ritual inspired by the god Quetzalcoatl. D.H. writes with a rhythmic repetition that is especially enhanced in the hearing of it. The protagonist, Kate, is an Irish woman opening herself to the experience of Mexico in the 1920s; the political and racial and sexual tensions pulsate under the glaring sun and a dark softness broods beneath them. Last night, we listened to some selections of Richard Strauss (Four Last Songs), Shostakovich (Movements III and IV of the 5th symphony), and Wagner (prelude and Liebestod from “Tristan und Isolde”) and talked about sinking into deeper places in the soul. Obsession, ego, openness, control. And under-girding it all, the space for life and love to unfold, which I might call “God”. It’s like moving from a caress to a deep-tissue massage. How much can you stand? Does it feel dangerous? I feel a “safety valve” kick in when I am in that dark night which always brings me back to the light. I don’t know if that’s my ego wrestling control out of the situation or an intrinsic optimism that says that the space where everything takes place is basically safe. When I am seized by grief or anxiety, I can only cry so much…and then I stop. Steve seems to have a Slavic tolerance for brooding that far exceeds mine.

And today, Steve is dizzy and nauseated. He took an antihistamine yesterday for his allergies, and he never takes drugs. So he is sleeping it off beside me, breathing deeply and regularly. A squirrel hangs upside down outside the window eating maple seeds amid the green and golden foliage. The body, bodies, the earth: we move in and out of shadow and sunshine and time. Nothing lasts, not brooding or joy, cohesion or disbursement. The universe is in motion. No wonder we feel dizzy sometimes.

Sky and water on a moving planet

Change

October 6, 2011 by scillagrace

Today I tagged along with a group of 4-6th graders as they participated in a program called “Let’s Go Climb a Moraine”. The staff naturalist gathered them all at the beginning of the hike and said that he hoped they would remember one important word from the day’s experience. “Glacier?” they guessed. No. CHANGE. Everything on the planet is changing. Even the land. For example, Wisconsin was once underwater at about the equator, back in the days of Pangaea. The glaciers shaped landforms. A beaver changes the landscape by chewing down trees and creating dams. People are making all kinds of changes to the earth as well. Naturalist Howard also asked the kids, “Why do we bother to study and learn about the earth? The more we know about the earth, the better we’re able to do what?” Protect it. Take care of it.

And change? Why do we bother to look at change and be aware of it?

So we won’t be so afraid of it, perhaps.

Change is inevitable. Eventually, everything changes. Some changes take a long, long time and are not even noticed in a few lifetimes. Other changes happen in an instant. Does change make you feel unsettled, anxious, frightened, panicked? Are you comfortable with change? Do you delight in change? “Depends on what the change is.” Sure. That’s a fair question, but would you be able to accept every change eventually? Are there some changes that you would never accept? What do we teach about change?

New colors on the trees

My children are going to be living quite differently from the way I did. There is change in the air. Our economic situation seems like a popcorn kernel about to burst. Something’s gotta give. And I think that will be a very good thing. I think that the older I get, the more open I am to change. You might say the opposite would be more typical, and perhaps it is, but the longer I live, the more changes I see and the more I get used to change.

Steve really enjoyed our hike and remarked, “My life’s been good to me.” It made me think of John Denver’s song, “Poems, Prayers and Promises”.

The days they pass so quickly now Nights are seldom long And time around me whispers when it's cold The changes somehow frighten me Still I have to smile It turns me on to think of growing old For though my life's been good to me There's still so much to do So many things my mind has never known I'd like to raise a family I'd like to sail away And dance across the mountains on the moon

I have to say it now
It’s been a good life all in all
It’s really fine
To have the chance to hang around
And lie there by the fire
And watch the evening tire
While all my friends and my old lady
Sit and watch the sun go down

And talk of poems and prayers and promises
And things that we believe in
How sweet it is to love someone
How right it is to care
How long it’s been since yesterday
What about tomorrow
What about our dreams
And all the memories we share

I’ll always have a place in my heart for Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr.

Music, Art, & Bodies: Graces & Commodities

August 31, 2011 by scillagrace

Steve just got a new CD. You know how many books he has? Well, he has almost as many CDs. One of our projects this summer has been to take them all out of their jewel cases and put them in sleeves, to save space. Then, we have to file and categorize them. Classical music (in the broad sense) makes up most of the collection. Jazz, movie soundtracks (he’s a big Ennio Morricone fan), world folk/country, singer/songwriters, and novelties are other big categories. He has very little Rock/Pop, and no Punk or Grunge or new genres like that. So, the latest purchase was Cecilia Bartoli’s Sacrificium. I love this artist. She is thoroughly Italian, with a wild animation in her face that makes you wonder if she is controlling her voice or if it is controlling her. Watch her on youtube and you’ll see what I mean. She specializes in the works of Rossini and Mozart, and in this new CD, she takes on the vocal fireworks of the premier castrati of Napoli. The melismas and ornamentations are phenomenal. Close your eyes and imagine a castrato singing the same thing. It’s tough for us in this century, but in the 1600s, there were about 4,000 boys a year in Italy alone who sacrificed their bodies to achieve this sound. The liner notes contain an article entitled “Evviva il coltellino!” which translates as “Long live the little knife!” Imagine shouting this in the opera house instead of “Bravo!” after the leading character’s aria. Why was this such a hot trend? Well, the Catholic Church forbade women to perform in churches or on the stage, but paid good money to the composers and performers of Baroque pieces for alto or soprano voices. Could it be that the Church condoned or actually supported mutilation of the body? Oh, yeah, this is after the Spanish Inquisition. (Another fascinating book Steve has is on the instruments of torture used during the Spanish Inquisition. With illustrations.) Well, they did and they didn’t. “The castrato mania even rages in Rome and the Papal States, where indulgence in these rare flowers occurs in up to forty different theaters at one time. Although castration is forbidden there, on pain of death, thirty-two popes over the centuries delight in the singing of castrati in the Sistine Chapel. In the Holy City, ecclesiastical dignitaries frequent the theaters in droves.” The manufacturing of castrati was a big business for two centuries, and didn’t die out completely until the beginning of the nineteenth century. The Italians were willing to sacrifice their progeny for their art.

Cecilia as a castrato

When I was in 6th grade, I asked my dad if I could get my ears pierced. His response verbatim has now been memorized by my children as well as myself: “That is mutilation of the body for purposes of vanity, and I will not subscribe to it.” What about for purposes of art? Or livelihood? Or to exact the truth from a tight-lipped prisoner? (see Dick Cheney). So far, I have no piercings or tattoos, and I think one of my children can say the same. I don’t want to be judgmental or dogmatic about what choices should be made for what values, but I do want to support thinking deeply about it and taking responsibility for your choice. I want to treat myself and every living thing as a “Thou” and not an “It”. Your relationship with a “thou” depends on respect and communication and understanding. As I understand myself, I know that I value honoring my father, not because his judgment on ear-piercing is “right”, but because of the relationship we had. I don’t want to pierce my ears as much as I want to honor my father. I do wear clip-on earrings on occasions when I want to dress up. To me, this represents making a choice based on “The Middle Way”, one of the practices of Buddhism. Music, art, our bodies, land, food, water…so many things can be seen as a grace and as a commodity. Political arguments are made all the time about how we regulate or deregulate our use of these things. We wonder if we can legislate morality so that people make the “right” decision. Often, we get stuck and find ourselves drawing lines in the sand and treating each other like “Its”. What would happen if we made a stronger commitment to treat ourselves like “Thous” and worked toward respecting, communicating, and understanding? Would we be able to make decisions along “The Middle Way”…and then make new decisions in light of new understanding? Trying to adopt this practice has made me a better mother, I know that for sure, especially since my children became adults. Perhaps the hard line I took on some things was beneficial when my kids were little. I don’t regret the standards I set, but I sometimes regret the way that I went about trying to enforce them. I don’t agree with James Dobson, the author of the very first book I read on parenting. I remember him saying that in conflicts between children and parents, it was the parents’ responsibility always to win. I think that sets up an “It” relationship. Steve has a quote from Carl Jung tacked on the refrigerator: “Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.” I want my relationships to be loving, above all else, and I want to make decisions with”Thou” in mind. That includes the thou that is myself.