Merry Christmas from This Being Human....

During this time of year I am usually thinking of my father who was at this time, in 1944, being escorted through the gates of Stalag 1XB. But this year, perhaps due the emotional highs and lows (mostly lows) that I'm experiencing due to pending divorce, am thinking often of my mother.
A few years before my father passed away, when he was struggling through a day to day existence, (much like when he was a P.O.W.) my mother could see over the precipice. The days were growing short. The reality of finding herself without him mocked her like the jester of death pointing his bony finger signaling towards the grave.
I offered to walk to church with her on a dark and moonless night on Christmas Eve. Snow danced through the air trying to stay aloft fearing that once they touched solid ground they too would be no more. The children, at least those that were left in the ever dwindling congregation, marked the occasion with skits and song. At the evenings conclusion, the children passed out tangerines and candy canes and sent us on our way. On our walk home, I tried to speak to my mother about God. About grace, as I understood it. It was a very cerebral conversation on my part, hoping to elicit some dialog regarding life, death, suffering and God's love for mankind. For wasn't this what Christmas is all about?
Glad tidings? Peace on earth? A savior is born?
I wanted to talk about GOD.
My mother was a born and bred New England farm girl Baptist. Her spiritual thoughts consisted of getting up each and every day and making the most of it. Her emotional range was methodical, deliberate and well contained. Perhaps these were thoughts that parents did not share with their children. Perhaps these were thoughts that you only had on Sundays. I'll never know. But now days I think of her silently observing Christmas in her stoic and silent way. Singing hymns, cooking dinner, decorating the tree.
These days, I see an excitement in my granddaughter that thrills me. I do not recall me ever having that sort of excitement - ever! At Christmas, the song and feast, gifts and pageantry of it all, makes two slits of her eyes as her smile and looks of glee envelops her face.
I no longer need to talk of GOD.
I just watch her.

Divorce

It is true that relationships, especially marriages, take work. That's real life. Ebb and Flow. I've often made the statement to people that are having difficulties with their marriages, "When it is good; it's great. When it's bad, it's really, really, fucking bad"!

The point being that you should persevere.The bad will become good again. And when it's good, it is great!

But sometimes, I do have to admit, working on a marriage can make you feel like Sisyphus. forever doomed to endless labor. And I have found that I cannot push anymore. The rock is beginning roll right back over me. And Christ! I did not know that it would hurt this bad.

And what I find particularly interesting is the level of grief that I feel over seeing my wife suffer so.
I want to spare her. To save her. To make everything all right for her. And she is right there with me! She too is grieving over what she feels. She wants me to spare her, to save her. To make everything all right. And therein lies the rub. The catch. The cornerstone of the entire marriage; she is the perpetual victim.

And I can't fix that. I cannot save her from that. I cannot be responsible for her happiness and security every moment of every day.

I just can't.

The playground of children...

It has been a long and arduous road with many points of beauty along the way. As usual, expectations, hopes and dreams ran high at the start. It is understood that there will be both good times and bad. Life dictates that some days we're up and on other days we're down. In full understanding of this reality you come to see and appreciate that this is "Just Being Human..... "there is neither good nor bad. It is what it is. And therein lies your place of comfort. Like building your farm on a good piece of land with dark, rich and fertile earth. The possibilities are endless.  You are not alarmed nor become giddy by the highs and lows. You enjoy the ride. And great scenic views led to a willingness to press on; to develop patience and steadfastness even when the path was filled with thorns and pain and confusion. 
Long-suffering has so often been pictured in portraits throughout social and religious history as something from which we could benefit from through a prolonged studious gaze upon the visual from within this well established social/moral exhibition. As if the portrait held a view of beauty and morality from which we would otherwise not be able to see without the pompous finger of religion and morality and self-righteousness pointing the way. Self flagellation has been highly regarded as a method through which we learn to correct the error of our ways. Force is cheered on as in a footrace in contrast to what our heart tells us. Fighting gives a rally cry in the hope that there is some unperceived victory to be found.
As the road closed in and the thorns grew frightening barbaric I began to lose my way - yet I blamed no one. Of course I kicked some and sometimes became angry. Perhaps I also found myself acting mean at times. More often than not I became quiet, silent, in frustration over not knowing what to do. I at long last came to see that I cannot kick against the pricks without further injury to my self.  I became resigned, sullen, passive, desperate, and sought to find the lessons that my chosen path offered to teach me. Changing the world, letting go of conflict: it all begins within me and within you. But my responsibility is with me and not with you. My attempt to wish for change, to fantastize about change, to force change, to fight for change, are all without merit. It accomplishes nothing. There is the way of nonviolence, a path of least resistance that begets a way that is not force, fight, or flagellation.  
The three "F"s as I like to call them.  
The ensuing violence of such a path became intolerable for me. When you find yourself forced to conceal your true feelings or needs because they are not worth the pain of the ensuing battle you face, you turn inward and become silent. And then you are told that even that is not acceptable and  you are met with verbal, demeaning, controlling, threatening and  violent behavior with inconceivable and emotionaly jolting reactions that you become conditioned to avoid. Love, compassion, feeling nurtured, is overshadowed by the sucking vortex of need held on tightly to by your traveling companion. Control and dominion is the subtle reign. 
Beautiful vistas, indeed!
Contemplation and the development of compassion begins within and emanates outward. Like the oak that grows forth from the lone acorn and ascends as the towering canopy offering shade and rest and safe haven. But I have become the non-pruned and haggard old apple tree with blighted fruit, the delight of birds and worms alike. But one old apple can carry within itself seed; eaten by a bird and shit out upon fertile soil. It will take root and be tended. It will produce fruit picked and eaten, baked in pies, and the branches will become the playground of children.

Zen and the Public Defender

When in the throes of pain and disability several years ago, I learned several valuable lessons. One thing that I was able to learn is that disability, or pain, or the loss of income, does not define me. Making the change from breadwinner to house-husband did not define me.  My desire to be kind and understanding best defined me. Since when does kindness need to be defended like a castle with high walls with a moat?  I laughed easily and sought my pleasures in the simple things. 
But I cultivated a desire to be a better parent than the parents I thought I knew. I sought to be the wise master of the home, the great father, the best husband, a good son; a good guy to know. And to that, I was attached.
The problem with identifying with any changeable sense of self is that you can find yourself in the position of always having to defend your position. I AM wise, I AM the best husband, I AM a great father. There is nothing inherently wrong with striving to be a good family man, husband, or parent. It is your attachment to - your identifying with the role of family man, husband and father and a good guy to know that can create suffering for you. These are roles: impermanent, ever-changing. 
You can begin to think of these labels as something that is "real", something worth defending, the "real you". But in doing so, I have found that it begins to absolve those around you of their own personal responsibility and their ability to learn their own life's lessons.  Perhaps herein lies karma, my Ouroboros. I have exerted a tremendous amount of energy defending my wife to my family, my family to my wife, my kids to my wife, my wife to my kids, my friends to my wife, my wife to my friends, my siblings to each other and me to everyone. When did it become my role to stand as the mediator, advisor, referee, spiritual leader and the ever present consoling ear? When do you stand back and let them work it out, or not work it out, for themselves? No wonder that I began to feel like a bitch with eight teats trying to feed a litter of fifty!
I am exhausted! 
Every year we spend billions of dollars increasing our military forces, our prisons, our emergency personal, fire, and police in a never ending effort to protect ourselves - from ourselves. We legislate morality, pass more and more safety rules and regulations and I find myself now, no more safe than I was forty years ago. One could perhaps make the claim that I am less safe! A noble effort in an attempt to govern and protect the people but something is really missing the mark here. 
Something is wrong. (another post :)
But I digress. It would seem that I have been conditioned by so many years of being a Public Defender that I almost naturally fall into that role. Yes, there is kindness and understanding. There is wisdom and friendship, but as I have so often counseled others and have less applied to myself is, "When the opportunity to do good arises, do good; and then pass on, never looking for an outcome or result"  (or becoming defined or identified by your good actions) When you identify with your role and deeds, you will listen for the labels being assigned to you and you will feel good about them. I AM such a good husband, I AM such a good father, I AM such a good friend, worker, sibling, member of the community, etc... AND what happens when someone questions or begins to tear away at the image of ourselves that we so tightly cling to? 
Why, we get on our high horse or soapbox and defend ourselves! We argue, hold grudges, become smug or we may turn inward and passive and shut ourselves down with depression or self loathing. And the problem continues as such, (identifying with the changeable self) because we are rooted in something that is not real. It is rooted in the past (memories) and the future (hope and desire) and never seems to recognize the present moment. That is why we "defenders"  (and "attackers") are so often still talking about what happened in the past. Who did this to whom and who did what to us, etc...  We use  an exhaustible amount of energy defending our sense of self, be we King of the castle or Victim. It is thinking stuck firmly in the past and grasping wildly at the future.
We think in terms of linear - a point that falls somewhere between our birth and our death. And from that point, we look back and define who we are: and we look forward to who we want to become. In so doing, we miss the only reality, the power of now. 


To be continued...................

"It's better to light a candle than to curse the darkness." E.R.

"It's better to light a candle than to curse the darkness."