I know a woman who has shone a spotlight on how hard it is to say goodbye.

 

My random act of kindness associated with the post that follows was that I called a family member who I know is having a number of horrible things happen in her life. I listened to her pain and tried to be fully present with her. We did not talk about me.

One of the many things that suck about being a grownup is that you have to be responsible for making decisions and acting on them when you don’t want to (Although you can have ice cream for breakfast. Which is awesome).

I said goodbye to Elly, my favorite dog of all time, this member of my family who I deeply love. As when Etta was put down (See “Dogs Again” from October), Haley and my two friends who know and love my dogs were there, but this time I was not on the other side of the world. I canceled a number of Very Busy, Very Important work activities and other trips over the last two months specifically so I would be here when it came time. I owed this to all involved including Elly, and myself.

It was Valentine’s Day. A friend told me that this was a gift of love from me to Elly. I understand what my friend was saying, and it didn’t feel that way to me. I wanted Elly’s suffering to stop, but I so did not want to say goodbye. I did not want to be in that moment, did not want to be pressed against those feelings. But I did. I wanted to honor the love this dog had given me for her whole life. I owed it to Elly, and myself, to fully be with her when she passed. I cried. A lot.

 

Elly died being held and touched by people who had been with her her whole life. Elly died being held by people who loved her, and knowing this was the group she belonged to. I hope I die that way. I fear I will not.

 

Shortly after she died, a huge winter storm hit the DC area. Not much snow but the winds howled with gusts over 50 miles per hour. It brought a smile to my face that the passing of such a gentle creature was accompanied by such ferocious weather.

 

I have not lost sight of how lucky I am to have people in my life, including my amazing daughter (but don’t let it go to your head, Kiddo, you are still a pain in the ass), who were so willingly to be present with me, and people who genuinely care from afar. I know how lucky I am….. and I am grieving intensely. I am embarrassed and feel more than a little stupid at how deeply I am feeling this pain and to be sharing it so openly (I come from a stoic people after all, Brooding Swede that I am). But when I started blogging about a year of random acts of kindness and where it would take me, one of my goals was to try to be honest about what came up/what I learned both to myself and also to you. So here we are.

 

Setting aside my embarrassment and angst, my grief has given me an opportunity to experience and think about something which may be valuable to us both……or not. It has given me the opportunity to think about goodbyes.

For most of us, or maybe just me, our lives are filled with many different flavors of goodbyes, and the frequency of those goodbyes accelerates as we move through our life; relationships end, breakups, divorces, job changes, illnesses, deaths,….. I am sure there are people who are Saying Goodbye Champions. I know I am not one of them. In fact I would say I am out and out bad at goodbyes. I am so bad I should win a medal for being so bad at goodbyes (At least a bronze, although I would be a contender for gold). It shows up in small and big ways. I typically don’t go to colleagues’ goodbye parties (oh, shit, my dogs were frequently a good excuse not to go, now I need a new one. Better start planning.) I joke with the talented team I lead that I have “abandonment issues” and that when they leave “they are dead to me.” Although in fact I nurture them specifically to leave (being the awesome mentor I am) and I am joking when I say those things, there is also an undercurrent of truth. And these are minor goodbyes.

 

So why? Not why am I like this, as that is just a tale of how I came to be on this path at this point, which is not that valuable a question to be asking right now. Instead, I am interested in a different question that (hopefully) is more valuable for all of us….or not. I am trying to frame this as a more useful question… ummmm….. yeah…… This is a sucky way to try to put this into words, but it’s the best I got: What is underneath that sadness? Is the sadness being amplified  by something deeper?

 

Here is what I got. When I stopped to really listen to my grief about the loss of Elly there is something under the searing sadness. It is small and softly spoken, hard to hear over the intensity of the sadness, but is there, hard-edged, sharp, and pushing the grief beyond where it might flow naturally.  It is a voice of Fear. Under this loss, and many others I have struggled with across my life, is the hidden voice of fear; fear of being left behind, fear of not belonging, fear of never being good enough, fear of never being really loved. Every goodbye, in addition to its own genuine sadness, fans the fires of those fears, is held up as “proof” those fears are true.

 

It’s the kind of deeply rooted anxiety that makes me want to check the fridge to see if there is cake left. How would something like that ever go away? I don’t think it can….. but maybe trying to make it go away isn’t the point. If those fears will never go away, I think we are left with a couple options. One; wrap myself back up in a suit of amour, seal all that pain & fear, even if a lot of cool stuff goes with it, behind a brick wall under the stairs. A nice tidy package. Sure that whole “be connected to other humans, live life fully, be open to experience stuff because it might really matter” journey is finished, but fuck that, right?

 

Or Two; be open to that fear, maybe even embrace the fear as part of me, allow it to be, knowing it will always be delighted to join me wherever I go (Erik’s Fear: Yea! Road trip!!). Which totally sounds like it sucks, except for the possibility of “being connected to other humans, live fully, open to experience stuff because it might really matter.” I guess that would involve welcoming the fear to come along (Erik’s Fear: Yea! More road trips!!) and still be vulnerable and open, a “fearlessly frightened” sort of thing. Hmm, that has a certain ring to it. I kind of like it. Fearlessly frightened! That seems like a reasonable (and hilarious) way to go.

Ok, going to give a try. I think I will have t-shirts made: Fearlessly Frightened.  I bet they are a big seller.

Goodbye, Etta and Elly.  You are loved.

 

 

I know a woman and her husband who have inspired me to be a better traveler.

The other day I was on my way into a metro station (DC’s mass transit train system) to head downtown for a Fancy Pants meeting of Great Importance…at least to the people leading said Fancy Pants meeting. As I approached the turnstile, I saw three women (most likely a grandmother, mother and adult daughter) with roller suitcases talking to the station manager. The mother turned to me and asked if I had change for a $100 bill. I politely said no, but inside my head laughed and said to myself, “Guess I look like someone who walks around with $100 in small bills. Go, me.”

This was one of the deepest underground stations, accessible only by elevator. It is also one of the creepiest stations and every time I go to that station I am reminded of those frightening and violent (and awesome) video games like the Resident Evil series. As the elevator dropped into the depths of the station, the part where all the zombies are waiting to kill or be killed, I thought about the women and I realized what a dumb ass I had been. The women obviously were looking for change because the Metro system doesn’t take $100 bills and they needed 3 tickets to one of the stations that accessed an airport or train station. Realizing my mistake, I abandoned the life-or-death hunt for zombies and rode the elevator back to the zombie-free surface. I went over to the station manager and the women, who confirmed my now brilliant detective work. The station manager and I split the costs of three tickets to the train station. RAK complete, I returned to facing my obstacle course of zombies and, even more frightening, humans who attend meetings of Great Importance.

You may have stumbled across this quote in various forms: “If you stop to be kind, you must swerve often from your path.”  I have read and heard similar in a number of places. According to the definitive source (a Google search of the inter-web), credit for this goes to Mary Webb (1881-1927), an English romantic author.  Although she had some success while still around to be there when they handed out prizes, it was within a year or two of her early death that her works became best sellers…..which seems tragically appropriate given the content of her novels…..but I digress.

Whether small or big, a sizeable number of the random acts of kindness I do require me to swerve (which is a funny word when you say it out loud. Swerve. Swerve. Swerve. Sorry, digressing again).  It is hard for me to put into words the sensation of swerving.  Walking along, happily wrapped up in my head, juggling multiple (brilliant, I am sure) streams of thoughts, then through what feels like a physical effort, everything slows waaaayyyyyyy down (insert a deep elongated bass voice), like emerging from hyperspace in some scifi film, the world becomes real, vibriant with colors, sounds, sensations. In all honesty not always pleasant, but real and a much different place then the moonscape in my head.

I am quite comfortable inside my head and spend a good deal of time there (It is after all part of what they pay me for), even when I should be somewhere else. Yes, it has its ghosts and demons, but the fear and pain they inflict is familiar, predictable, a well grooved track that is easy to stay in. Plus it can be a pretty cool place too and provides a nice playing surface as I scheme to take over the world…..for its own good of course. Being out of my head and face-to-face with events in the here-and-now is much harder (perhaps for just me?), especially when I am trying to be present for whatever comes and not assume I know what people want when they interact with me (See the three ladies above). Plus, outside of my head is where unpredictable & uncontrollable things happen. Some of these outside-my-head-happenings are beautiful, funny, and filled with joy. Some of these outside-my-head-happenings are ugly, painful to witness, and filled with sorrow. And yet all these outside-my-head-happenings are “real” and there is something important about that, even for the ugly, painful, sorrowful happenings.

Ah! I have a metaphor for us to try. In honor of the three women at the Metro station. Getting out of our heads is sort of like being a traveler (Work with me here).  The best travelers I know see everything that happens on the trip as seeds for a great story down the road, and let’s face it the best travel stories are ones that include things like; “after sitting on the tarmac for an hour in a storm with the toilet backed up, the priest sitting next to me, who had had a couple drinks by then, started to teach me how to swear in Latin”; Not “Oh the flight was fine. They ran low on snack mix, but otherwise it was a good trip.”

Of course the most amazing travelers I have every known have been my dogs. God, I wish I could truly embrace travel as they do (and I am a pretty good traveler, if I do say so). I think pretty much all my dogs have been good travelers, although two especially come to mind. First, Tewa, a dog Haley’s mother and I had many years ago. Tewa was a small to medium sized mutt who was rescued from the side of the road after being hit by a car, who walked with a pronounced limp from a shattered elbow that never healed. My God, that dog LOVED to go on car rides. She would jump into the car (broken elbow and all), ride for 4 hours, be delighted to greet whomever we were traveling to visit, and then jump back in the car for another ride while we were trying to get the bags out of the car. The second is my dog, Elly. Elly LOVES to go for a ride and embraces every trip with a fully open heart, even though she never knows where we are going (Someplace fun with dog treats or the V-E-T) or for how long (5 minutes or 8 hours). She doesn’t care. She just wants to go for the ride. What makes this especially inspiring is that Elly is a shy dog who is most definitely NOT a fan of new and unpredictable situations. And yet, she travels with the most amazing attitude of being in the moment with no concern of what monsters we may face at the end of the journey. I wish….I wish I could do that.

And here is Elly. Almost at the end of her journey. She sits a few feet away from me (where she can keep an eye on me and make sure I stay out of trouble), basking by the fire, occasionally coming over to lay so she can touch me. She has only a couple of days left. Her cancer symptoms have reached a point where I have to make a decision. That is not true. I have made a decision. I just am not ready to say it out loud, although I soon will have to. And Elly will “go for that ride” as she always has, even though neither of us know where it goes. I wish….I wish I could be like that, but I don’t believe I will ever be that good a traveler.

 

I know a woman whose “belonging” continues to be demonstrated by the many ongoing random acts of kindness her friends still do in her name.

Warning, I am going to get all Hippie on you here for just a bit.
You: Sigh…..
Me: Just for a bit
You: Right….., Damn Hippie.
Me: I heard that!

The classic interpretation of the Sanskrit word “Namaste” (You know that thing our yoga teachers always say at end the of class (Damn Hippies), and that a huge chunk of the world uses as a greeting) is “I bow to the divine within you.”  Nice.  But the interpretation that was taught to me by a friend/colleague who happens to be a truly amazing yoga teacher (Damn Hippie) is “I greet you from the place where we are equals.” This understanding of namaste seems to tap into a core feature of that “something” I have been trying to find through sustained efforts at random acts of kindness; seeking a place from where we can see these other glorified monkeys as our equals AND where we also believe we are equals to them. Both of us equally valued and worthy of being seen for who we are.

OK, I am done with the Hippie bit…..for now.

Many of the random acts of kindness that I do are small and simple; holding a door, letting someone merge into traffic, a sincere thank you with eye contact to a cashier.  To count as a RAK, in accordance with the rules (See the post in September “The Rules of RAK”), I must be as present in that moment as I can be. Making a connection, no matter how brief, with another human-like creature is a sought after achievement, but not required. I guess it is being open to the possibility of a connection, no matter how brief, that is required.

Last week I was at a meeting where my role was to sit at the Children’s Table and observe, speak only when spoken to. My vantage point as a Meeting Minion provided a wonderful opportunity to watch the interactions between the Important Flesh Puppets seated at the horseshoe-shaped Grownup’s Table. On this particular day, as the meeting progressed and the committee was drawn deeper into its task, one of the members became increasingly cranky, sullen, and defensive.  In the words of a dear friend of mine, he was being an Ass Hat.  (I love that description.  I also love “fucktard”; working on a way to use that in a conversation soon). In watching the nature of his growing defensiveness and obnoxiousness, his Ass Hat-ness, it became apparent that he felt he was not receiving enough acknowledgement for his contributions.  My guess was that underlying his behavior was a strong anxiety about not being valued, not being seen as important, not being recognized by the rest of the committee as belonging at the Grownup’s Table.  My random act of kindness that day was a small one. During a coffee break, as he walked passed my humble location at the Children’s Table, I thanked him for his service on the committee and let him know my organization (the sponsor of the meeting) appreciated his time and participation.  He gave me a curmudgeonly response, but he also melted a smidge in response to my comment.  A small interaction, but maybe it mattered (and I got credit for that day’s RAK. Winning!).

Belonging is a core human need, and a crucial need to have met. Lots of good stuff comes from us tightly belonging to groups of other humans. It is unfortunate then that we encounter so many events in our life, especially growing up but not just, that lead us to question if we really do belong. Given this, it should come as no surprise that many of us (me making another assumption here) get a little nutty around needing that belonging. Hell, that nuttiness is probably in itself a core human behavior. What we do with that Little Nutty can range from amusing to horrifically destructive.

A while back we talked about how the answer to the simple question “Do you believe there is enough?” could have profound implications for how we were in the world (See “Enough?” Posted back in November). I suggested that believing there was not enough was a fundamental source of some of the truly awful ways we humans treat each other. Having carefully watched and analyzed the behavior of a Fascinating Specimen over many years (who is most certainly not myself….), I have arrived at the scientific conclusion that responses to fear of not belonging can also lead to awful treatment, both to others and to ourselves. Whether we go with judging and tearing other people down to bring ourselves up, or become a whirling dervish of trying to prove just how much we do belong, both approaches can be destructive to all involved, especially in relationships.

I am going to share a secret with you. I can so related to Mr. Ass Hat and the powerful fear of not belonging (Surprised, right?). I have spent a lifetime of trying to prove to fellow students, teachers, co-workers, bosses, girlfriends/partners, friends, acquaintances, that I was of value, worthy of inclusion, that I belonged, all the while harboring a belief that I did not. On the plus side, this means I worked super hard in school, am a massively productive employee, attentive and sensitive boyfriend/partner, friend who goes the extra mile, great mentor, Champion of the Little People, and a generous, kind, “nice” person. Go, me!

On the downside, I can be anxious, insecure, overly ingratiating, and follow you are around like a needy puppy that you keep tripping over every time you turn around (Attractive, right?). When I am struggling with being in this space of fear of not belonging I feel small, and, in a patheti-sad kind of way, try to be even smaller, squeezing any sense of self into the smallest space possible in order to make room for the needs of the Belongers in the hopes that I will earn the right to become a Belonger too. I sense that the roots of this particular weed wrap around my vital organs and run deep.

To give myself some credit in the Personal Growth Department, I am not the child/teen/man I was. I have come a long way and I am on a path I choose to be on (even if I have no clue about where it leads), but those insecurities can still be triggered by what amounts to a small ripple on the pond’s surface. It is amazing that I can be so respected and so competent, and feel so confident, and how the smallest of events creeps up on me, I am pantsed in the blink of an eye, and off runs all my sense of being a creature with personal power and agency. Amazing to be so aware when that happens and be helpless to stop it. Really quite the circus viewed from inside my head.  I have gotten quite good at noticing when this happens and being able to not act on it, and I have not reached a point where I can stop it from happening…..I believe I never will.

I do think I can continue to reduce the probability I act like an Ass Hat when insecurity ambushes me, and I can continue to try to be sensitive, and perhaps even occasionally kind, when others blossom into Ass Hats. That’s all I got. Hopefully that will suffice.

Namaste.

I know a woman who went somewhere else but her presence is still felt by many.

A story.  Tara Brach (http://www.tarabrach.com/audiodharma.html) has used this story several times. I am not sure who to credit for its original telling. Imagine you are walking out of the grocery story, hands full with your heavy bags of yummies and supplies when someone runs into you.  You are knocked to the ground, groceries scattered, breakables broken, you hurt your knee.  God damn it!  As you sit up, you feel the flash of anger rising in you and you are about to say, “You dumb ass, are fucking blind??!!”, when you look up and you see the sunglasses on their concerned face, the cane in their hand, the guide dog by their side.

Forgiveness. Monolithic Tar-Baby #2. Do you remember back in Part 1, where I said these ideas were complicated, hard to untangle, and this blog will fall short?  Well, keep that in mind as you read the last (for now) of the Anger and Forgiveness posts.  I do think I have something of value here, but the picture in my head is still far from captured. Perhaps while I continue to be on the confused side, you can make progress in whatever direction is progress for you.

Forgiveness. A gazillion billion things have been written and said about the importance of forgiveness, how healthy it is, and how it is a sign of moral strength. It is what good people do, and not doing it is a blotch on your permanent record, you unhealthy, morally weak, bad person you. I could be wrong but I think people even win prizes for forgiveness. Sign me up!  Let’s do some of that forgiveness thing and win us some prizes!  Ok, so, we just…… uuummmmm….. well….. first we…… huh.  Forgiveness is talked about pretty much any place humans are working on becoming something more, or are being lectured to on the importance of becoming something more.  But to quote one of the greatest lines from the Princess Bride: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

 

What are these people talking about? What does it mean to Forgive? On the surface this sounds like a silly question (You: We expect that from you so no surprise here) because everyone knows what forgiveness is, even if we don’t do it well. As RAK has required I bring my attention to being present with the various strange creatures, known and unknown, I stumble across during my day, as well as to myself, it has become apparent that “I do not think it means what you think it means.”  Or what I thought it meant either.

I used to think I was super good at forgiving.  I truly wasn’t Really Angry, or even angry, at anyone, not even people who had Really Hurt me. People would ask me if I was angry at this person or that; heartbreaks, mistreatment, even bigger things.  I would say, no, I had forgiven them.  I didn’t feel any anger toward them. It didn’t matter.  Wait… It didn’t matter?  Where did that come from?  Huh…. reaching a point where someone else’s actions toward you did not matter.  Is that the same as forgiving?  Feeling no anger, is that the same as forgiving?  I guess it might be, or is that something else?  Is that more like apathy or just feeling numb?  If we don’t care that someone hurt us what are we not caring about? Oh, look!  Monolithic Tar-Baby #2. Ooowwwhhh, sticky tar-like substance oozing down the back of your shirt. Because that sounds more like we are saying hurting us doesn’t matter, more than Real Forgiveness.  I am going to take a moment to sit in this stickiness (eech, now it is running down the back of my pants) and feel what that would mean.  I don’t recommend you do this. It is gross.  Important perhaps, but gross.

So many wise sources tell us that Forgiveness is expected, a sign of having healed, being a strong person, there is even research on forgiveness, but what if forgiving has nothing to do with these things? What if you can be a  strong healthy person who does not “have to forgive,” but does fully recognize the Real Human in the Other that did the hurting and treats them with compassion? What if you reached a place where you fully feel & understand that the person who hurt you is not to blame, the person was blindly responding to their history, trauma, rules which shaped all the injury they have done such that you have sincere empathy, perhaps even bring nurturing & kindness if you have to interact with them, AND you do not forgive them? Maybe it is not just blame vs. unblame, unforgiven vs. forgiven. Maybe it is multifaceted: anger, compassion, acceptance, empathy, forgiveness; each its own separate task. I don’t know.

Maybe more important than Forgiveness, given that I don’t know what that even is, is allowing whatever feeling there is to simply BE while not letting that feeling drive the bus. Finding a space where the Event(s) of Real Hurting does not define who you are, where you do not navigate using that Event as your North Star. The hurt no longer tacks you to a time & place like a butterfly pinned to a board, you are free to swim, to move in response to the currents that swirl around you NOW, not in orientation to a past tsunami.

What might this space look like?  How might we get there?  OK, that seems bit overly self-important of me and like I think I know what the hell I am doing….which I don’t.  Let me put this a different way that is more honest.  I have been thinking about Anger and Forgiveness for a while in the midst of this RAK gig, mostly taking a lot of dead ends as I traverse this maze (I could write an entire blog on that: A Year of Being Hopeless Lost in Search of Something That I Don’t Even Know What It Is), and have made some progress….. emphasis on “some.”

Here’s what I got: Some fundamental stuff that might be helpful to us (or not) with finding that balanced, at peace space. 1) It has to matter to you that you were hurt. 2) Part of the reason for #1 is that is a way to truly value ourselves, recognize how precious we are, how worthy and deserving of kindness and care. You see the hollowness in people’s actions that lead you to believe anything less. 3) It is OK to feel whatever you feel about that hurt and about that person; hate, love, confusion, anger, sadness. 4) How you feel can change. In fact that is part of the fun…that “part of the fun” thing is a lie.  That is actually part of what seriously sucks, but, in my stumbling around in the dark, allowing all this crap to bubble and be all gooey seems to be important. 5) The anger or sadness or both (assuming that is in there somewhere about this Event) gets to “BE” but doesn’t get to determine who you are and what you do with your life.

Wow!  Look at me making a list and stuff.

Maybe the only person you have to “forgive” is yourself. And maybe that means simply recognizing that events happened which shaped how you were in the world. You have had your heart broken. You learned you didn’t matter. You have been taught to question if you are lovable. You figured out that hiding how you really felt was a safe way to be. So many variations on a similar theme that burrow deep into who we are, often so deep that we are blind to how it twisted us. Shit happened, and it hurt, and you did the best you could, and you in turn fucked up. That fucking up happened for a reason, and the reason isn’t that you are a horrible person.

Knowing this doesn’t make it go away, but I think it might be a start toward getting past the two Monolithic Tar-Babies. Personally I would be stunned if they don’t take a short cut through the woods and show up again, sticky and huge as ever. For now, I find something comforting in trying to be gentle with myself, knowing I have fucked up and hurt people, sometimes those I loved, because I was lost & confused by hurt caused to me by people who supposedly loved me, as I try to sort through the anger and compassion that I in turn feel for those who hurt me.  Maybe somewhere in this empathy, anger and compassion targeted at these people and at myself is where Real Forgiveness is forged? I don’t know. That would be pretty amazing, but I don’t know.

While I wait to see what emerges, random acts of kindness continue to give me a opportunity to be present, aware and witness. Knowing that tomorrow, or maybe an hour from now, it starts over again.