When We Talk of Love...

The Benefits of Boredom

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On May 12, 2002, Newsweek published an essay by Anna Quindlen called, “Doing Nothing Is Something.” It was a beautiful piece of writing on the lazy rhythms of summer that she recalled with nostalgia from her own childhood. In it, she bemoaned the fast pace of modern life and the contrast between what she experienced in her youth compared to the experiences of over-scheduled teens in middle-class society. The article has even more relevance now given the advent of social media and smart phones that keep us routinely engaged. Instead of contemplating our navels on someone’s back porch while swatting at a few mosquitoes and talking to the neighbors.

“I mourn hanging out in the backyard. I mourn playing Wiffle ball in the street without a sponsor and matching shirts. I mourn drawing in the dirt with a stick,” she writes. (I’ve included the link to the original article here).

As a single woman without children, I spend many weekends and evenings alone. And at times, I’m quite bored. This reality has been particularly on my mind as the days grow longer and the warm weather drives everyone outside to engage in activities. Yet no matter how much I sometimes judge myself for having these stretches of quiet time, I realize how vital boredom truly is whether you’re in a partnership, family, or alone. Having time to do nothing and to be in solitude is a rich experience that our society has little tolerance for. This intolerance only grows. It’s viewed as non-productive, anti-social, and unhealthy. Yet is it any healthier to constantly engage, particularly if participating in meaningless activity or superficial relationships? And how does one cultivate any sense of purpose or creativity, if there is never any time to simply dream and think?

So if you find yourself feeling a little restless or bored at some point this summer, consider it a gift. It’s a great opportunity to embrace simply being. Without having to prove anything or exert anything. And that is a rarity in our current day.

When We Talk of Love...

Trust YOUR Process

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When my mother died by suicide in July 2008, two well-meaning loved ones made comments a month later. One pondered whether the fact that I lived alone intensified my grief. Perhaps if I had roommates, I might not be so upset. The other said that if I had a child, I wouldn’t be so self-absorbed. I would have to care for another person instead of feeling sorry for myself. The latter statement was particularly painful because I desperately wanted to be a mother, yet I was thirty-nine and single. I wondered if she wanted me to get myself knocked up by a stranger, so I could circumvent grieving.

There was also the ex-boyfriend who emailed me, “Onward and upward!” when I notified him of the suicide and shared that my mom had always been fond of him. But this is not a blog post to roast people for the odd things they say. It’s simply a cautionary tale to be discerning and protective of what you personally need when you’re most vulnerable and raw. In my case, I wasn’t just grieving my mom’s death. I was grieving the mom I never truly had. And it had only been one month.

When we’re in the heart of deep pain, not every one understands or can tolerate it. Because everyone has their own issues and opinions. For these reasons we must discern who is equipped to witness our experience and hold it with compassion while also acknowledging that people are not always available or able. In these situations, we must ultimately hold space for ourselves.

Grief entails a type of intra-psychic death. We feel like parts of ourselves are dying and life as we knew it has irrevocably changed. In the process, other relationships often fall like dominoes compounding the sense of loss. If you find yourself in this situation, see if you can embrace it as a time for personal transformation. Allow yourself to trust your process. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s non-linear. And even if it doesn’t follow a set of prescribed rules or steps.

Nothing in life ever does.

When We Talk of Love...

Both Things Are True

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We know from physics that light can be a particle and a wave. Both things are true. Yet paradoxes are difficult to grasp when we want absolutes.

It’s one thing to grapple with these concepts in science. It’s a whole other challenge when thinking about the human condition and trauma.

When something catastrophic happens the mind seeks an answer like in a mathematical equation. Yet typically there isn’t one. We can’t solve for X.

Things fall apart. Things change. And humans are flawed and exquisite at the same time.

In a desperate attempt for resolution, our minds conceptualize things concretely like a small child. We categorize events as having been all good or all bad. The world as being safe or unsafe. Or, humans as devils or angels.

This is the mind’s attempt to keep us safe. Meaning that if we deem a situation as having been bad, it’s easier to move on from it. Conversely, if we idealize it, then we by-pass related grief.

Yet to heal, we must accept that life is more complicated. But this demands that we recognize ambiguity and tolerate it. Not just in our minds but within our entire energetic body.

How do we hold our emotional and energetic reactivity to circumstances without polarization? And without making up narratives about ourselves, others, and the world at large that aren’t necessarily true?

This is where the work is.

Can We Ever Truly Understand and if Not, How Do We Try?

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In the long over due discussions of race and class inequities in this country, it is important to note difference. Without acknowledging that the minority experience is less advantaged than the privileged one, healing can’t occur. To move beyond trauma, people need to feel heard, witnessed, and validated.

Yet while acknowledging difference is core, it’s also important to eventually draw upon common human connection and similarities. How can we do that though, if we can never truly understand someone else’s experience? And does moving toward union negate the significance and seriousness of difference?

This raises the bigger question of whether we can relate to someone else whose life experience differs from ours. For instance, does an actor have to have had every experience of its character to play it well? Or, does the actor find the core themes and parallels of her life to draw on and connect to the emotional truth of the role? Can we imagine what it would be like to be someone else? Can we care enough to? This is the heart of empathy and compassion.

And why do we automatically assume someone’s story and values are so different from our own? I remember a friend once saying, “Everyone has a story. Just because you can’t see it, it doesn’t mean it’s not there.” Another friend who is Latino and Black was once surprised to hear that my mother had spent many years in jail. He had an incarcerated family member too. When I shared, he gave me a funny look.

“What? Do I look too Waspy? ” I asked and he laughed and said, “Yes. You look way too Waspy.”

Yet just because we both understood the pain of having incarcerated family members, this didn’t mean our lives had been the same. On the contrary, they were very different. As a white woman initially raised in an upper middle class home, I had a number of advantages that come with that package.

In human relationships, we can’t ignore differences in age, class, gender, ethnicity, and childhood experiences. These factors shape who we are for the personal is indeed political. Yet there are aspects of being human that are universal. This is why we relate so well to people’s narratives. They bring us together. And all stories that are rich in aesthetics, have complex layers. Strong characters are never one dimensional. Reversals abound.

In drama, conflict launches the story. But what makes for a good ending is when we don’t see the same-old, same old. While we never want to tie things up with a glossy, fake Hollywood ending, the most exciting stories are ones where people connect and transcend. When despite it all, something changes. That is what I’m hoping for in our stories of race, class, age, and gender.

The post Can We Ever Truly Understand and if Not, How Do We Try? appeared first on Selfish Bitch of a Daughter.

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Can We Ever Truly Understand and if Not, How Do We Try?