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Famous

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I don’t get how the birth or death of someone famous is more celebrated or more tragic than the same for an ordinary person. How is it more special? How is it different?

A new prince has been born in England. An actress just died in America. These are front-page items of note. But these events don’t affect you in any real way. You never will meet him. You never met her. Your grandchild being born is just as important, and your mother dying is just as sad.

I think it minimizes our own milestones when we pay more attention to the goings-on of famous people than we do our own.

Glasses

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I remember when I used to wear thick rimmed glasses. Something about the fact that they didn’t have separate nosepieces meant that they would sit really close to my face and they would get smudged by my eyebrows all the time.

I don’t remember who it was who would get so bent out of shape about that smudge. A friend? My Mom? No idea. I think it was a female. But I remember that there was something about that smudge that made her feel like she had to ask me to clean my glasses, a lot. Like every time she saw me.

Here’s the funny part. It didn’t bother me. I could see just fine.

So I’m not sure why this person wanted me to change something to make her feel better. Perhaps the smudge was distracting. Perhaps it was weird to look in my eyes and see this blob of eyebrow goop stuck to my lenses. Perhaps she thought that I was unaware of how much better I would see if only I cleaned it off, so she thought she was doing me a favor.

How many times do people expect us to change ourselves to make them feel more comfortable? How many times do people try to get us to make a change “for our own good”?

How many times do we try to do this to others?

I recently saw a child who had a habit of tapping his fingers a lot when he was bored or waiting. His Mom asked him to stop and she sounded very exasperated. It sounded like from her tone that she has tried to get him to stop this behavior many times before.

Was she trying to get him to stop so that she would feel better, or that he would? If that was his way of relieving nervous tension, then not only did she take the release away, she just caused more tension. Or was she embarrassed by his behavior, embarrassed that he was making noise in the library, or being distracting?

She could have used that experience as a chance to learn something. She could have noticed how she was feeling as an outside thing. She could have seen it as not-her, and studied it.

I’ve learned about this technique recently and it is very useful. See any emotion you have as something outside of yourself. It isn’t you. If it is a painful feeling, ask yourself why this event is making you feel this way. Dig down to the roots of it and try to remember who first made you feel this way when this event happened before.

All emotions and responses are taught to us. Sometimes (often) our teachers are mislead themselves. Often their teachers were badly taught as well.

Sometimes we are taught how to behave in one circumstance and we overgeneralize. We take it too far. And we end up creating walls and limits for ourselves that are unnecessary.

My goal is to see those invisible walls and walk through them.

See? The smudge doesn’t get in the way. It teaches.

Privacy

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I’m a very private person. This may sound odd coming from someone who writes a blog. I also have a very public job. I work with and in front of strangers half the day at work. I try to serve each person as fully as I can. I try to serve them as if they are Jesus in disguise. I try to serve them as if I am Jesus.

It is overwhelming.

I’m grateful for the time off the desk to be calm and quiet. I’m grateful for the activities I have off the desk that require a different kind of attention.

I’m really quite the introvert. I fake being an extrovert.

I used to feel bad about this. It meant that my home was my refuge and I’d spend my off time there, alone with my husband. He is an introvert too so it works out. I felt that perhaps we were missing out on life somehow. We didn’t have friends over, and we didn’t go out with friends. We stuck to ourselves.

I’ve decided to change that a little. I’ve decided to push my boundaries a little. I think it is important to spend time with friends, so I’ve been making “playdates”. I’m creating a “salon” at my house. It is a space where we can get together with a few people at a time and have tea and philosophy.

Partly the trick is to pick good friends who understand that I get a little overwhelmed, friends who understand that I can’t stay up too late. I might turn into a pumpkin, you know.

I asked Jesus into this, because I feel it is a weakness, this being so private and guarded and I introverted. He pointed out that he spent a lot of time alone.

So I’m in good company.

I’d rather have a few good friends than a lot of sort-of friends. I’d rather have friends who are comfortable with me and I’m comfortable with them. I’d rather know people who I don’t have to wrestle the house into shape in order for them to visit.

If I have to turn myself into something I’m not, then they aren’t really friends with me, the real me, anyway, right? It would be putting on a show – like selling someone something that isn’t really what it is advertised to be. I don’t wear makeup, or dye my hair. I am what I am. So I should be the same about my house.

Peace (cat in a tree)

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I want to be a peacemaker. I want to take conflict resolution classes. I want to help people understand each other. I want to wake people up to their potential. I want to show them how to prevent problems.

My spiritual director says I need to focus inward. She says I need to take care of myself first. I guess this I kind of like when you are on an airplane and the pressure drops. You have to make sure your oxygen mask is on first before you help out the people around you. I guess it is like being a first responder. If you aren’t in shape, how can you rescue someone else?

This makes sense yet it also sounds backwards. There are already too many people who are totally self centered and selfish. There are already too many people who are unaware and unawake. To turn my desire to help others around onto myself seems like regression.

But perhaps the middle way is best. It would mean that I am balanced and grounded. It would mean that I can help others and not be depleted. If you overextend you may fall. Just like if you are rescuing a kitten from a tree, if you reach out too far, go past your balance point, you’ll fall to the ground.

Then, there is the idea that the kitten needs to learn how to get her own dang self down.

If you keep rescuing the kitten, she’ll keep needing to be rescued. Maybe there is something useful there in that thought.

Nobody rescued me. Nobody stood around and cheered me on to start getting healthy in body and soul. Nobody figured out how I could carve out time and money to go to the Y. Perhaps there is something in letting people figure out how to get there on their own.

Maybe there is something to being OK with the idea that they may never get there. Maybe there is something about being OK with where they are right now.

I just hate listening to the yowling of that stuck cat.

I want it to stop climbing up that tree. It has climbed up that same tree for years and it keeps getting stuck. I want it to pick a different tree or figure this one out. Or stay away from trees entirely.

I’ve got my own trees to wrestle with. I want to help, but I don’t want to rescue. But I also don’t want to feel like saying “I told you so”.

Lightning bug.

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I have a special place in my heart for lightning bugs.

I love when I see the first ones of the year. A spark here, a flash there, I’m not sure what I’ve really seen. Is it a trick of the eye? Perhaps a reflection on my glasses? I have to see the bug to know it is real. Then I have to catch one.

It isn’t summer until I have caught my first lightning bug.

They fly so slowly it is as if they want to be caught. They drift along, aimlessly, like a leaf in a gentle stream. They aren’t in any hurry, and they never fly very high.

Perhaps you are wondering what I’m talking about. Perhaps you call them fireflies. Perhaps you don’t have them where you are. They are in the beetle family and they have bioluminescent butts. They flash light to call a mate. They come out in June usually.

This year, the first one I caught I looked at when it was on my hand, facing away from me, and I said “I love you!” It flew up and backwards and landed on me, over my heart. I felt it was giving me a hug.

The first ones are magic. They herald the explosion of them. One becomes a thousand in a smattering of days. Driving home in the evening this year was like driving through a field of stars.

I feel a little sad for the last ones. They have played a game of musical chairs and they are the losers. They have such a short life span. Hatch, find a mate, lay eggs, and die. If they hatch early they have a huge choice of mates. Towards the end it is slim pickings. I wonder if the cycle just continues like this. Hatch late, lay eggs late, and then those eggs will also hatch late. No fun.

There’s no philosophy here. I just want to share my love of lightning bugs with you.

Help!

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There are some people who seem to have an issue with asking for help. We all need help on one way or another. Some people are really good at it. They ask a question without hesitation and without fear.

Then there are some people who don’t know how to ask for help. They feel like they are causing a bother. They feel like they are interrupting. They feel like they shouldn’t ask. They feel their question is stupid. They feel like asking a question will make them look stupid.

So they don’t ask for help, and they fall further behind. They don’t ask for assistance or advice. They try to do it all themselves. This rarely works out well.

Then there are those who ask for help but are really arrogant about it. They will treat the helper like a servant. Like a slave. Like a lesser-than. They feel like they have to put the helper “in their place.” They talk down to the helper in order to feel more important. They want to feel like they are higher, more important.

These two situations are the same thing.

In both they feel that they are in a lower position. In both they feel like it is shameful or embarrassing to ask for help. One deals with it by simply not asking for help. The other deals with it by asking but doing it in a way that “saves face.”

The cure? Just ask for help. People like to help. Remember when someone has sincerely asked you for help? Remember how that made you feel? It might have made you feel important or special. This means that you have information or assistance that is needed. This means you are valuable.

You might have wanted to help them all along and they were stubborn, and you were relieved that they finally asked.

So take that feeling and turn it around. Give that gift to another person. Ask for help and they will feel important and useful. You are doing them a favor by asking for help.

Sometimes we have to turn things around to understand them.

Often at the library I’ll be helping a patron who obviously can’t carry all those books out to her car. I’ll ask if I can walk the books out for her. Invariably she will say no. She doesn’t want to be a bother. She doesn’t want to be beholden. She doesn’t want to be a burden. So I’ll turn it around. I’ll point out that she will be doing me a favor because I’ll get to walk outside and get some sunshine.

This usually works.

Once that wasn’t enough. The lady was very Southern. She was also very feeble.

Now, you never want to take away a person’s dignity. People don’t like to feel helpless. They don’t want to feel beholden. They want to be independent.

But sometimes that is all a ruse because they just don’t feel worthy.

I thought about it. I wondered what would work. There was no way I could let her take those books out by herself. Well, I could, but my upbringing would have smacked me upside the head. I figured out the magic formula. I out-Southerned her. I said “I would be offended if you didn’t let me take these books for you.” She broke out into a huge smile and let me help.

We both got what we wanted.

Bully

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I’m often torn about the best way to deal with a bully. Do you call attention to the fact that he is being a bully, or do you ignore it?

The point of calling attention to it is to say you don’t agree with it. You speak up because to be silent is to participate. You speak up to stop the abuse.

But to be silent is to not give attention to the bully. A bully, at the heart of the matter, is someone who wants attention. It is someone who didn’t get enough attention for doing good things, so he does bad things. 6 or 60, it makes no difference. A bully is a bully if he is harmful to another person, either mentally, physically, or emotionally.

So if you ignore the bully’s misplaced attempt at a way to get attention, will it go away? Will he figure out another way to get the attention he craves?

We all want attention. We all want to feel special and important. A mark of a well adjusted person is that she does not constantly need validation from others in order to feel this way. She is comfortable as is. A well adjusted person can self-soothe, and knows on her own that she has done well. She doesn’t have to seek approval and encouragement from others constantly. She doesn’t have to tell stories about all the important things she has done or all the famous people she has met.

But a bully hasn’t gotten to that point yet. Perhaps he was bullied as a child by his father. Perhaps this is just normal to him. Perhaps he will always be an emotionally stunted person. Perhaps everyone is afraid of telling him he is wrong, so he has never gotten the feedback he needs. As far as he knows, he is OK. He feels big by making someone else feel small.

The few times I’ve stood up to bullies it terrified me. I was afraid of the repercussions. All were authority figures, and I had something to lose in every situation. But in every situation I’d finally had enough of being pushed around and lorded over.

A funny thing happened, every time. I spoke up, calmly, and respectfully, but assuredly. I pointed out how my point of view coincided with reality, and how it differed from the point of view of the bully. And every time the bully backed down. Every time it was like deflating a balloon. Every time the bully developed a new respect for me and never pushed me that way again. It doesn’t mean that the bully suddenly became a great human being. But it is as if I drew a line. I said I’m not willing to take this, and he never went there again.

Now my dilemma is when I see another person being bullied. Say it is an adult child of a bully. This person has been bullied his whole life by his father. This abuse is normal. The adult child has been taught that he is not worthy of love. He has been taught that he deserves to be treated badly. He has been taught that he has caused his father’s anger, that he is responsible for the abuse he gets.

If I stand up for him, am I short changing his growth? Baby birds have to peck their own way out of their shell or they won’t be able to make it in the world.

I remember a time when I lived near Washington DC. The lady I lived
with had three cats. Two were Siamese, and they were siblings. One was a Main Coon. His name was Bill. Those crazy Siamese cats were newcomers to this home, but they ganged up and made sure to get in the way every time food was put out. There were three bowls, but they would make sure they ate first and Bill ate last.

I felt this was monstrously unfair. One day I put out their food and held back those two punks. Bill just stared at me. I sang out to him, encouraging him. I told him to go ahead and eat. Hesitantly, he did. After about five minutes, I released the Siamese siblings. They looked at me in amazement. Bill didn’t get in their way, and Bill didn’t eat their food. They had theirs, and he had his. It was as it should be. This was all it took. They got the clue, and shared from then on. Bill didn’t become a bully to them out of revenge. Harmony was restored.

But it isn’t that easy with people. You’d think it would be easier. I couldn’t speak to these animals – I showed them how to behave. I showed Bill that he was valuable, that he had a right to eat. Not first, not better, just the same.

I think there is some lesson in here for me. Perhaps I have to do a little of both. Perhaps I have to stand up to the bully, to let him know that his actions aren’t OK, and show the victim that he has value. And then I have to wait, to let this seed take root. You can’t force growth, and you can’t change a lifetime of being oppressed overnight.

I believe in the power of prayer, but I believe in prayer made visible more. Sometimes I’m impatient for change.

Zero

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Zero calories. Fat free. Gluten free.

This doesn’t mean it is healthy. Look at the label. It can have healthy claims and be totally devoid of nutrition. So what if it has no calories if it also has no vitamins or minerals?

I remember one time when I was working at the craft store in Chattanooga. We got in a shipment of pottery that was packed in these new cellulose packing peanuts. The owner of the store got really excited and said they were edible. He started eating them like they were cheese puffs. Just because something is edible doesn’t mean you should eat it.

There are plenty of snacks that are being sold in pre-portioned packs, usually 100 calories. Partly this is because we have no idea what a proper portion is, and we are gluttons. We’ll eat the entire bag of chips or cookies in one sitting without thinking twice about it. So we need limits. But so what if it is 100 calories, when is 100 calories of nothing? Empty calories fill you up fast and don’t leave any room for actual food.

Something can be gluten free or kosher or organic or any other health buzz word and be high in cholesterol or fat or salt. It can be totally devoid of fiber and nutrients.

I’ve never understood why someone would pick an “energy bar” when they can just eat an Apple and some almonds instead. You’ll get the same results with no preservatives and no packaging, and a lot cheaper.

We are being deceived. We are being tricked. We no longer know what food is, and how to cook it. We are letting corporations make our food. To paraphrase Michael Pollan in “Food Rules”, our food comes from plants, and isn’t plants.

I have relatives who put out bowls of apples for decoration, rather than for eating. Then they realize that the apples go bad, so they have to buy more. Then they decide to buy fake ones. Only in America would we decorate with fake food. Meanwhile people are dying of malnutrition across the country and across the world.

All you can eat doesn’t mean all you should eat. Sure, you want to get your money’s worth when you go to a buffet, but if you overeat, you’ll pay for it in more than money. That dozen doughnuts costs less than a half dozen, but how long will it take you to burn off those calories? So, really, it costs more.

Crippled

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I opened a big heavy door last night. Behind the door was a tiny woman in a large wheelchair. I felt instantly that there was no way she could have opened that door on her own – her size alone would have made it difficult. Being in a wheelchair would make it near impossible. She looked like she had been waiting there a long time.

I asked her if I could open the door for her. A simple thing, and compassionate, I thought. I was trying to think of her needs.

She looked down her nose at me and said “I’m not a cripple.”

I was stunned. I felt as if I’d been slapped. Chastised. I hadn’t said or implied anything of the sort. I stammered that I open doors for everyone. I got nothing but a glare from her.

Storming down the hallway towards me was her male companion. He was very large – sci-fi convention large, and similarly hairy. He was rushing towards us, explaining something about how she isn’t a cripple, or doesn’t want help, or something like that. I got the impression that he has to excuse/explain her interactions with well-meaning strangers all the time.

I was speechless. I walked away, away from them, away from their issues, away from their backstory.

I wasn’t feeling very compassionate right then.

My thought when I walked away was a reply to “I’m not a cripple.” was to say, “OK, but you are a bitch.”

Perhaps she doesn’t want people to feel sorry for her. Perhaps she doesn’t want people to treat her differently. Perhaps she has a lot of baggage to this backstory, more baggage than can be accommodated on the average airplane.

But there has to be some word here. Something I’m missing to help unlock this. I open doors for everyone. For her to assume that I’m being, what? Condescending? Demeaning? Belittling? To her that is rude. It is like reverse racism where someone assumes that I’m going to treat them badly because I’m not the same race as them.

It is like being snapped at by a dog when you offer it food. She isn’t a dog, of course. But her behavior isn’t very human or humane.

I’m missing a word here that would explain this, that would define it. Perhaps a word doesn’t exist. Perhaps if I sketch out the shape around the word, it will fill itself in.

It makes me want to not offer to open doors for anyone, especially someone in a wheelchair. But then they may think that I’m being thoughtless and self centered.

I’m sorry for her, but not for her physical disability but for her emotional one.

And I know that feeling sorry for someone isn’t helpful, or compassionate, or desired. In a way, I wish I’d had more time to get to understand where she is coming from, but I don’t think she is in a place where she is going to share that. And I have to remember not to categorize every other person in a wheelchair the same way – they might not feel the same as she does, and they might appreciate someone being thoughtful.

Or – they might feel the same way. This will have to be played out on a case by case basis. I never want to offend, or to upset. I want to help. If my helping causes harm, I need to stop. More mediation, more prayer, and more writing will help me know more of this. I know that acting from a place of love is always a good start. It is hard to stand in that place when it is attacked. I want to learn from this. But I’m also concerned that this one bad interaction will cause me to stop, cause me to fear, cause me to be afraid that I’m going to get yelled at.

I want to open doors, but not if that steps on toes.

Get your way (get out of your way)

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There was a mom who came in the library recently. She picked out a bunch of books with her young son and then came up to the front desk to get a library card. Then she found out that because she lives in a different county she would have to pay a $50 annual fee to use this library.

She handled it perfectly. Some people get indignant. Some will shout “This is a free public library!” This is illogical. The books have to be paid for somehow. They don’t magically appear. Some think they are being clever and ask if they can use their relative’s address in this county. Or they ask to use the address on their license, which they have already admitted isn’t where they live.

Don’t try to get me to help you lie. It isn’t going to work. I’m not going to get fired for something stupid. I’m ok with bending some rules, but not the ones that I totally agree with. This one I agree with. You get what you pay for. Library funding in this state comes out of property taxes. You have to provide proof of current address to get a library card. It isn’t much to ask for to get to read all the books you want for free.

This lady not only took it in stride, she helped her son with it. He was distraught that he couldn’t get these books. He was sobbing, and his voice was going up in pitch and volume. In his mind, we were stealing from him. Some parents have not known how to deal with this strong emotion from their children and turn it back on the staff. Some have actually spun on us and said “you tell my daughter why she can’t have her books”. This is bad parenting.

We are strongly discouraged at work from saying what we want to say. Sometimes we are provided scripts for tricky situations. This is not one of those that we have a script for. I’m pointing out the ways this interaction has gone wrong in the past to illustrate how surprising this one was.

This mom picked up her son and hugged him. She patted him on the back. She made consoling sounds. And she totally took the blame. She realized that she should have checked about getting a card before she got the books with him. And she let him cry it out. She didn’t distract him. She let him have his emotion.

We are not comfortable with strong feelings. We are so afraid of them in ourselves and in others that we often try to cover them up or run right through them.

Breathe through them. Let them happen. If you push them down or shove them aside they will resurface in uglier ways, with terrible faces. Resentment becomes alcoholism. Being abused becomes incessant pain, stomach upset, or road rage. Feeling left out or ignored produces a bully.

It is ok to not get your way all the time. It is the mark of a well adjusted person who can handle that. It isn’t the feelings that are the problem. It is what you do with them. We’ve either forgotten that, or we never learned it. We want to push through the bad feeling straight to the good feeling. We shortchange our growth when we do this. Our society teaches quick fixes and instant gratification. Nothing good comes of this. There is no abiding sense of satisfaction that comes from this.

I remember once I’d spent the day hiking the dry riverbed at Fall Creek Falls state park with a friend. It was a bear of a hike. What would have been a 6 mile hike was more like 11 because it wasn’t a straight path what with climbing up and down the boulders in the riverbed. We were sore. We were exhausted. We hadn’t quite prepared for this.

When we finally got to the end, we went to the restaurant and had a fine meal. We were surrounded by people who had just driven there. We’d spent the day hiking, and they’d spent the day driving.

I have a strong suspicion that we appreciated our meal more.

The same is true with maturity. It takes the long path, and a lot of hard work. There are no shortcuts. And part of getting there is pain. But pain can be transformative. It can be alchemical. Work with it, and through it, and because of it. You’ll savor life more. Sure it hurts. But as Carl Jung says “There is no coming to consciousness without pain.”