What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?
I have never been good at reconciliation--my bank account--my physical needs. Neither have been my strengths. I had a strong inner sense of both balances. My bank balance has been more stable than my physical balance. I knew the limits of both--or so I thought--so, I did not waste my anxiety on balance--on those balances. I lived within my means--or so I thought.
Ray--I am too young to be called "Grandpa"--spoke treasured words to me in the last years of his life. My grandmother having died, Ray lived with us. Listening to this beloved storyteller share his life experiences, I knew the younger alterego of this shy man had quite a temper. He had deeply ingrained stereotypes not softened by age. So, his words are all the more treasured. "When I die, don't feel sad. I have made amends with everyone I had differences with. Ray was no scholar. But, Ray was brilliant in his understanding of reconciliation. I try to live by Ray's words. Yet, I do better in reconciling with others than I do in reconciling with my self--with my body.
My physical balance is changing. My stamina long gone, my physical balance demands my attention. I am called to reconcile my life's accounting--my balance of independence at one end of the teeter totter and dependence at the other end. I have tried to brace myself for the radical changes that lay ahead. Literally, I brace myself from my foot to my calf--you could say that I am on the right side of bracing myself. I am physically. Time will tell whether I am on the right side of bracing myself fully for the future.
Physical balance demands putting one foot in front of the other. Physical balance demands deliberation of movement. Balanced living demands of me now deliberation of mind.
Yesterday's step toward balance was to answer the second of three questions. "What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?"
My question's posing was to an independent contractor, whose product and services I was seeking. I accepted that he had the mechanical knowledge I needed. I presumed that to be enough to meet our mutual needs. Yet, I was surprised to be told that I did not need to do a certain task. He seemed to dismiss my need. Would the electric wheelchair enable me to open doors, get through my bedroom door, most notably? I know my weakness for defensiveness. I tried to disrobe myself of any defensiveness.
I am willing to hear that I may not be able to accomplish a given task--perform a given maneuver--with this machine--with this alien entering my life. I may not like the answer I am given. But, I must ask the question if I am to be able to accommodate my life to a changing body. I must receive answers.
I may not be able to be independent as I have known myself to be for 50 years. Yet, if I am to proceed with any semblance of independence, even if I am not, I need to know. If all independence is taken from me, I need to know so that I make other arrangements to live differently. For now, all of my independence is not being taken from me. Yet, I do need to have as much information as possible to allow me to do a different form of life planning than I ever imagined. I did not have a full appreciation of the partnership--the co-conspiratorial relationship between cerebral palsy and aging. I could put my head in the sand. I could ignore--deny---the issues, considerations, and questions that my future may call me to address. But, I cannot fixate myself--every day's breath--with anxiety regarding what is to come. I am called to acknowledge what I may not like now, while I have such a deep sense of love and support from family, friends, a worshiping community surrounding me.
What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?
Saturday, February 26, 2011
What Will Independence Include?
What will independence include?
This has been a lifelong question that I have rushed in to answer before anyone else dared to define it--to deny its possibility. Age has called me to question my irrefutable, infallible lifetime's answers. Defiance was my youth's inseparable companion. Age severed friendship. The strain was too costly.
My child took on faith my mother's inheritance to me. You will live independently.
Though neither of us knew the details, we accepted on faith that her commandment could be--would be--followed. Her inheritance to me was that commandment. Her inheritance to me was defiance--a commitment to defiance. She defied doctors' doubts of my life's capabilities. She defied educators' questions of my mentality. She defied all doubters of my life's potential. She would hear nothing of doubts, or questions.
She committed herself beyond defiance. She committed herself to action. Unsupported defiance was hollow. It still is.
To doctors, she used knowledge of her two older children to call on her advocate's spirit. She demanded diagnosis, when no need for such diagnosis was recognized.
To educators, she committed herself to identify needed services. To counselors, she refused doubts. She committed her time, her energy--her determination--for her commandment's adherence. She committed her strength to fortify her mantras.
To me, she instilled the mantra. You will go to college. I responded. Passion about world events. Pursuit of an undergraduate degree. Graduation resulting from my pursuits. Not a star student by a grade's measure of my mind. But, graduation nonetheless. An inquisitive mind was nurtured. In defiance of all expectations--mine included--I pursued graduate-level education. I was granted graduation as a master.
Not a boasting. No. Defiance. Faithfulness.
Mom, I bet you never thought I would take you so seriously.
Family pride. Friends' celebration.
You will learn to live independently.
I had no idea of its details. Yet, I adhered. On faith, I adhered to this commandment. I adhered to this commandment. For 24 years, I adhered.
Then....then....a life's body of work died at the hands of a desperate body--a ravaged body demanding healing. Mom and I are called to question her commandment--her mantra. It worked for a lifetime. Not without its serious imperfections. But, it worked, nonetheless.
Now what?
What will independence include?
This has been a lifelong question that I have rushed in to answer before anyone else dared to define it--to deny its possibility. Age has called me to question my irrefutable, infallible lifetime's answers. Defiance was my youth's inseparable companion. Age severed friendship. The strain was too costly.
My child took on faith my mother's inheritance to me. You will live independently.
Though neither of us knew the details, we accepted on faith that her commandment could be--would be--followed. Her inheritance to me was that commandment. Her inheritance to me was defiance--a commitment to defiance. She defied doctors' doubts of my life's capabilities. She defied educators' questions of my mentality. She defied all doubters of my life's potential. She would hear nothing of doubts, or questions.
She committed herself beyond defiance. She committed herself to action. Unsupported defiance was hollow. It still is.
To doctors, she used knowledge of her two older children to call on her advocate's spirit. She demanded diagnosis, when no need for such diagnosis was recognized.
To educators, she committed herself to identify needed services. To counselors, she refused doubts. She committed her time, her energy--her determination--for her commandment's adherence. She committed her strength to fortify her mantras.
To me, she instilled the mantra. You will go to college. I responded. Passion about world events. Pursuit of an undergraduate degree. Graduation resulting from my pursuits. Not a star student by a grade's measure of my mind. But, graduation nonetheless. An inquisitive mind was nurtured. In defiance of all expectations--mine included--I pursued graduate-level education. I was granted graduation as a master.
Not a boasting. No. Defiance. Faithfulness.
Mom, I bet you never thought I would take you so seriously.
Family pride. Friends' celebration.
You will learn to live independently.
I had no idea of its details. Yet, I adhered. On faith, I adhered to this commandment. I adhered to this commandment. For 24 years, I adhered.
Then....then....a life's body of work died at the hands of a desperate body--a ravaged body demanding healing. Mom and I are called to question her commandment--her mantra. It worked for a lifetime. Not without its serious imperfections. But, it worked, nonetheless.
Now what?
What will independence include?
Dignity's Pecularities
Dignity.
The image that comes to mind is a woman dressed in an elegant black blouse, a fuschia fabric belt, and a floral floor-length skirt. Her gray hair is adorned with a matching long black scarf that was wound through her fine strands. Her cheeks are patted with pink powder. That is the surface of Mrs. Dignity. Dignity's prescribed behavior matches her elegant gown. A diamond ring on her ring finger makes clear, she has invested herself in a lifetime with a well-respected, hard-working man, who has provided her a comfortable life. They had the requisite three children. Her children married. They provided her with grandchildren for her doting. She survived the normal ups and downs of any marriage. Clearly, he had died, but, she did not die with him. She rekindled an old friendship--her gentleman friend. She has survived with a quiet air of confidence. Her emotions are spent on her children--her grandchildren. But, as to the challenges--the disappointments, the opportunities--life in her time did not afford, she said nothing.
That is dignity's face in my stereotype's vision.
I feel far from dignity's face. Yet, something pulls at me--some vague, amoebic form that escapes my grasp, much less my firm hold. What pulls at me is a stranger I have not met, or do not recognize, if I have met her. What pulls at me is not for bravado's ego to claim. At least, I don't think so. Selfish? I may be pulled more for my self to claim. I hope it is somewhere on the teeter totter between bravado and selfishness. That is beyond me to know at this moment.
Still ambulatory, I wheeled into an hourlong test drive--to test the power a chair will provide into a future whose physical boundaries I may know in this life's moment. Perceptive rather than sensate on Myers Briggs scale, I exceed what is natural. I write a checklist of my 730-foot condominium. Where do I need to travel--where will I need to travel if I lose my ambulation---lose more than distance's stamina, which has been taken from me. I succeed in my inventory--my checklist for my hourlong evaluation. I have itemized my travel needs, my task needs, and my needs for recreational pursuits in my home. Unknown to my conscious self, I have created a three-part questionnaire for the evaluation. First, what may I do with the power chair, now? Second, what will I be capable of doing given practice. Third, what will I need to ask others to do because it is beyond my capacity to do?
I enter the evaluation with quiet confidence. My checklist is in place. It is in writing for my reliance. My questionnaire is ready for the answering. I am ready for the answers. Or, so I think. After all, this checklist--these answers--are at the heart of wheeling forward in my life with some semblance of interdependence.
The checklist--the questionnaire--is at the heart of defining three terms in my future's essence.
What will independence include?
What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?
How will the equation of interdependence be formulated?
Some ask of any life's dilemmas, "What would Jesus do?"
A different voice--a different face comes to mind. She is in no competition with Jesus. No. A different voice--a different face--presents herself to me now.
Six months before death, she sat. Ravaged by breast cancer--by a radical mastectomy--long before medicine's advances, she sat in her manual wheelchair. From the dining room table to the living room, her 14-year-old--her youngest--granddaughter wheeled her. A loving, albeit overprotective life history together, she said, "I bet you never thought you would see your grandmother like this." Though never voiced then, "No, I never did." Now, lo these many years later, the answer of my own question's asking still is, "No, I never did."
The image that comes to mind is a woman dressed in an elegant black blouse, a fuschia fabric belt, and a floral floor-length skirt. Her gray hair is adorned with a matching long black scarf that was wound through her fine strands. Her cheeks are patted with pink powder. That is the surface of Mrs. Dignity. Dignity's prescribed behavior matches her elegant gown. A diamond ring on her ring finger makes clear, she has invested herself in a lifetime with a well-respected, hard-working man, who has provided her a comfortable life. They had the requisite three children. Her children married. They provided her with grandchildren for her doting. She survived the normal ups and downs of any marriage. Clearly, he had died, but, she did not die with him. She rekindled an old friendship--her gentleman friend. She has survived with a quiet air of confidence. Her emotions are spent on her children--her grandchildren. But, as to the challenges--the disappointments, the opportunities--life in her time did not afford, she said nothing.
That is dignity's face in my stereotype's vision.
I feel far from dignity's face. Yet, something pulls at me--some vague, amoebic form that escapes my grasp, much less my firm hold. What pulls at me is a stranger I have not met, or do not recognize, if I have met her. What pulls at me is not for bravado's ego to claim. At least, I don't think so. Selfish? I may be pulled more for my self to claim. I hope it is somewhere on the teeter totter between bravado and selfishness. That is beyond me to know at this moment.
Still ambulatory, I wheeled into an hourlong test drive--to test the power a chair will provide into a future whose physical boundaries I may know in this life's moment. Perceptive rather than sensate on Myers Briggs scale, I exceed what is natural. I write a checklist of my 730-foot condominium. Where do I need to travel--where will I need to travel if I lose my ambulation---lose more than distance's stamina, which has been taken from me. I succeed in my inventory--my checklist for my hourlong evaluation. I have itemized my travel needs, my task needs, and my needs for recreational pursuits in my home. Unknown to my conscious self, I have created a three-part questionnaire for the evaluation. First, what may I do with the power chair, now? Second, what will I be capable of doing given practice. Third, what will I need to ask others to do because it is beyond my capacity to do?
I enter the evaluation with quiet confidence. My checklist is in place. It is in writing for my reliance. My questionnaire is ready for the answering. I am ready for the answers. Or, so I think. After all, this checklist--these answers--are at the heart of wheeling forward in my life with some semblance of interdependence.
The checklist--the questionnaire--is at the heart of defining three terms in my future's essence.
What will independence include?
What will dependence demand of me to reconcile?
How will the equation of interdependence be formulated?
Some ask of any life's dilemmas, "What would Jesus do?"
A different voice--a different face comes to mind. She is in no competition with Jesus. No. A different voice--a different face--presents herself to me now.
Six months before death, she sat. Ravaged by breast cancer--by a radical mastectomy--long before medicine's advances, she sat in her manual wheelchair. From the dining room table to the living room, her 14-year-old--her youngest--granddaughter wheeled her. A loving, albeit overprotective life history together, she said, "I bet you never thought you would see your grandmother like this." Though never voiced then, "No, I never did." Now, lo these many years later, the answer of my own question's asking still is, "No, I never did."
Monday, February 21, 2011
Perfection's Exhaustion
Were you to ask me in younger days, I would have proclaimed myself to be an idealist. I had principles that were contrary to the norm. I was a fool enough to believe that I could conquer the norm with my enthusiasm. To some degree, I did. Yet, life's realities had other designs on me.
I fought losing idealism as a compromise in my beliefs--a wholly unacceptable compromise. I fought being a realist--a pragmatist. That was an evil option I was determined to avoid at all costs. I did not recognize what the nature or magnitude of those costs might be.
I fought losing idealism as a compromise in my beliefs--a wholly unacceptable compromise. I fought being a realist--a pragmatist. That was an evil option I was determined to avoid at all costs. I did not recognize what the nature or magnitude of those costs might be.
This week I have spoke with a number of people, whom I think of as pragmatists--realists--reminded me of those two extremes. Today reminded me to reevaluate how I understand myself.
Today's cold is having the unexpected effect of clarifying my misconception--of who the realists are, and who the idealists are. One is not better than the other. It is a balance between those two extremes that comes the closest to offering any modicum of fulfillment.
My friends express an idealism that I don't know how to reconcile. Life is not perfect. Seeking to find just the right life path to live one's principles does not guarantee a "happy"--a fulfilling life. My friends are not alone in wanting to find that perfect life--that life without compromise.
Being idealistic is exhausting. It is not to say the investment should never be made. Quite to the contrary. Being idealistic is pragmatism's antidote. Idealism is a vaccine protecting a person from being infected with cynicism.
But, pragmatism is not the enemy--not idealism's antagonist. I go to bed tonight exhausted by the idealist's demand for the perfect life's path. I know no perfect pursuit, which is free of compromise.
Is it possible that what we view as living a compromised life is in truth our perfection, rather than a pristine pursuit of an idyllic life to which we should aspire?
Is it possible that what we view as living a compromised life is in truth our perfection, rather than a pristine pursuit of an idyllic life to which we should aspire?
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Love Your Enemy
Jesus calls us to "love your enemy." This morning's readings challenged my understanding of "enemy." I hear "enemy" spoken ad nauseum in terms of world events, and terrorism.
I resist the word "enemy."
I have never found any good to be found in being hostile toward individuals, or groups, much less nations, who live by different beliefs than I have. My belief may seem idealistic. In reality, the contrary is true.
My temptation has been to add "enemy" to the list of words banned from my vocabulary. Closely related to the word "enemy" are the words, "courage," "courageous," "crippled," and "evil."
My response to the list of personally banned words is abhorrence. I abhor calling anyone an enemy, an act evil, a person a victim, or another individual a hero, not to mention brave, and courageous.
I must confess that I do not abhor "courage," and "courageous" as I did at one time. Why? Abhorrence can be a disservice, if it is nothing more than bravado.
This morning's call from Jesus to "love your enemy" leaves me at a loss.
Is it possible that "banning" it from my vocabulary only serves to blur my vision of, and deafen my hearing as to whom I need to be in communion with--individuals, and groups whom I do not understand today?
Is it possible that Jesus is inviting me to listen to the words "enemy," and "evil" as adverbs, rather than as adjectives?
Am I being called to listen for what actions I need to take to change the world around me?
Is it possible to be in communion with individuals, or groups, who are identified as "enemies." How?
What action does the adverb "enemy" call me to make, so that I may be in communion with the individuals, or groups so described. Or, am I satisfied with coexisting with the adjectival "enemies" in my life--in the world.
I resist the word "enemy."
I have never found any good to be found in being hostile toward individuals, or groups, much less nations, who live by different beliefs than I have. My belief may seem idealistic. In reality, the contrary is true.
My temptation has been to add "enemy" to the list of words banned from my vocabulary. Closely related to the word "enemy" are the words, "courage," "courageous," "crippled," and "evil."
My response to the list of personally banned words is abhorrence. I abhor calling anyone an enemy, an act evil, a person a victim, or another individual a hero, not to mention brave, and courageous.
I must confess that I do not abhor "courage," and "courageous" as I did at one time. Why? Abhorrence can be a disservice, if it is nothing more than bravado.
This morning's call from Jesus to "love your enemy" leaves me at a loss.
Is it possible that "banning" it from my vocabulary only serves to blur my vision of, and deafen my hearing as to whom I need to be in communion with--individuals, and groups whom I do not understand today?
Is it possible that Jesus is inviting me to listen to the words "enemy," and "evil" as adverbs, rather than as adjectives?
Am I being called to listen for what actions I need to take to change the world around me?
Is it possible to be in communion with individuals, or groups, who are identified as "enemies." How?
What action does the adverb "enemy" call me to make, so that I may be in communion with the individuals, or groups so described. Or, am I satisfied with coexisting with the adjectival "enemies" in my life--in the world.
Loving Kindness Blessing
May I be at peace.
May my heart remain open.
May I awaken to the light of my own true nature.
May I be healed.
May I be the source of healing for all beings.
May my heart remain open.
May I awaken to the light of my own true nature.
May I be healed.
May I be the source of healing for all beings.
May you be at peace.
May you heart remain open.
May you awaken to the light of your own true nature.
May you be healed.
May you be the source of healing for all beings.
May we be at peace.
May we heart remain open.
May we awaken to the light of our own true nature.
May we be healed.
May we be the source of healing for all beings.
A Prayer from the Buddhist tradition prayed at Cabrini
This was prayed this morning at church--at Cabrini--this morning.
This Buddhist prayer was chosen to correspond with Jesus'call to "love our enemy."
May the peace of Christ be with you--with us--today, and all days.
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