A friend’s recent inquiry prompted me to question how well I really knew my mother. We all have beliefs about our parents that ultimately, regardless of how well phrased, come down to our sense of being loved. My friend asked if mother had gone through a mid-life crisis. It was difficult to answer. Mom is always so calm, so quiet, so not in crisis. She doesn’t express herself openly. As I thought about it I realized how very different I am and wondered if mother’s lack of expression, what appeared to be a lack of love, had propelled me upon my path of self-discovery and radical self-expression.  

 

No one escapes life’s ups and downs, so mother couldn’t have either. Looking at her though, it appeared that she did. Even when Dad died, she carried on; she didn’t cry. This steely woman was my model for how life is lived. She internalized life, so much so that it was, and still is, hard for me to see what is really going on. Realizing now, that my understanding of mother is vastly incomplete, I question how well my sons know me. We know our version, the interpretations that validate our beliefs. We don’t, nor can we, truly know another. Absorbed in understanding ourselves, we rarely see the truth surrounding other’s lives.

 

Only recently did I come to learn that mother was born without tear ducts and is unable to cry. Hearing those words broke my heart and opened me to a new understanding – that I didn’t know her at all. I couldn’t imagine not being able to release the pent-up frustration and emotions that inevitably accompany life. When at last I understood, it explained so much.

 

You would think if you were unable to cry you would learn to jump up and down or scream and yell – anything to shake off the tight, constricted energy of loss. She didn’t. Perhaps that is why she holds her Bible close. Those skills would be helpful now. She is about to lose her leg from the knee down. There’s no medical explanation. The veins carrying the blood to her calf and foot just quit working. She doesn’t cry or scream. She hasn’t a physical outlet, no way to dissolve the energy of tragedy. There must be a million screams residing within her.   

 

As a child watching my parents, I unconsciously made decisions about who I would be, about what I would copy and what I would change. Those unspoken agreements were foundational for the pact I made with myself to honor self-expression. We each do this. Our pacts vary, but they are pacts none-the-less. Honest, self-aware expression, what I now call radical honesty, grew in importance over time, until it became the key tenet of my life.

 

Gratitude is thick and rich for this reflection on mother’s life. It has given me new appreciation of her challenges and choices, and a greater understanding of how her life experiences now flow within me. Yes, they flow in apparently different directions. Yet, they flow from the same origination point, the same human experience. When we look only at our personal experience, rather than the magnificently divine and so much bigger picture, we miss connecting to the mystery of what is actually stirring here. So much more is happening than we realize and it’s rarely what we think. Anything is already possible; marvels of growth and expansion are taking place. Gifts are offered to each of us this day. Will you see them? Will you seize them?

 

Your comments are welcome and appreciated.

 

Are you ready to win life’s lottery?

In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s mind there are few. Shunryu Suzuki

There is an infinite line of possibility. Of course, it is not a line, but the concept of a line is fairly simple for the mind to visualize, so it works as well as words can. Each of us has access to this infinite line of possibility, although most of us unwittingly settle for a tiny space on the line, even though our hearts keep telling us there is more. When we feel caged, tied up in knots, irritable or just plain out of sorts, our heart is speaking to us saying, “Pay attention! Are you willing to listen yet; are you ready to step out of that tiny space you have staked out for yourself?”

We don’t always understand heart’s language. Our minds often interpret the signals as personal lack—if we would just try harder or get lucky and figure it out, everything would fall into place. We may also, sometimes even at the same time, project our discomfort out onto our world—if they would just act different, be more like we expected, see it our way, then we wouldn’t feel this way. We look for answers, trying desperately to find that illusive peace, that longed-for love that, if we are lucky, we haven’t given up on yet.

No matter how dark things seem to be or actually are, raise your sights and see the possibilities – always see them, for they’re always there. Norman Vincent Peale

If there is an infinite line of possibility why is it that it seems we keep finding that same inch over and over again? If we listen to our minds they will tell us it isn’t true, but when we are willing to listen more deeply, and open our hearts, setting our mind’s view aside, something within us already knows the line of infinite possibility exists.

Suzuki’s quote points the way. Beginner’s mind rather than expert’s mind is the clue. When we are in the dumps we don’t exactly see ourselves as an expert, even when that’s what we want the world to see, but we are fully enmeshed in expert’s mind. Beginner’s mind is pretty easy to understand. It is empty of the ideas that fill it up as it learns its way around. A beginner’s mind doesn’t yet know what it doesn’t yet know and has space available for new ideas, for a while at least, until it begins to fill up with expertise. Expert mind is full, full of its own ideas, beliefs and versions of how, what, why, when and where.

It is this stuffed and cramped rigidity that limits us and locks us into the small space on the line. It is fueled with every ‘no’ we say to life. “No, not this”, “No, this isn’t the way it should be”, “No, I don’t want that, I want this.” During meditation I recently saw a picture of the human form and it was made entirely of knots, not too unlike how we feel when we are out of sorts. It was instantly clear that every knot was created when we said, “not this”. These knots are constrictions that choke joy out of life. They are also a signal for us to investigate our pain.

This last couple of weeks I have been looking right into the heart of possibility. I have said for many years that anything is possible but I realized that I didn’t really believe it. Could I win the lottery without buying a ticket? No, not that. Did I believe that the planet could magically heal itself overnight? No, it couldn’t happen that way. Was it possible for the political polarities to come together for the good of the whole? No, didn’t think that was likely. So, in light of my bag of ‘knots’ I have been sitting and watching every belief, realizing that every one of them limited me and limited us as a whole. With my process there was an intense letting go at a new and profound level.

A couple of days ago we went to see “The Narnia Chronicles: Prince Caspian”. One scene in particular caught my attention. Lucy, the youngest of the four Pevensie children, was walking through the forest, being called forward by Aslan’s essence. Petals flowed through the air and formed into the shape of a woman, swirling and dancing above the forest floor. As I watched in awe, I was transported into possibility. Was that possible? Could the life force within the petals take shape and play with us? Could the trees sway or move and share their thoughts? Did they even have thoughts? Could a little animal sit on our shoulder and whisper into our ear in a language we both understood? What was truly possible? That question ricocheted through me.

I decided in that minute that I was no longer willing to believe in impossibility. I didn’t care anymore if others laughed at me or thought me insane. It no longer mattered, not a whit! The only thing I cared about was opening absolutely to God’s infinite possibility and gratefully lapping up all God offers. I didn’t want to miss anything, any possibility ever again.

With every belief we hold we tighten the box and prevent new creative solutions from emerging, from popping into view like the gift from God they are. There is a solution for every problem. There is an antidote for every poison we swallow. It is available to us when we drop our claim to our small piece of real estate. It is available to the adventurous, when we are willing to untie our knots and trade them in for infinite possibility.

Would love to hear your thoughts and comments!