So like me on the inside

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How often do we deeply connect with someone immediately? That's always my desire, but, even if I want it, it's usually not so.

Relationships take time, trust and effort – mostly. Our culture does not teach us to trust very easily and we often bring layers of identity and persona: the public sides that we expose and, the more private, that we initially conceal. Then there is the rare occasion when you understand you were meant to meet someone.

Take Sara for example. She was invited to a family wedding in a distant state and was not sure what to expect. I was also invited, but live in town where the wedding was held and was pretty certain what to expect. That I'd be sitting with my husband's boisterous and fun-loving siblings and their families. Weddings the past several years have served as reunions of sorts, collecting members from scattered locations. We seem to have achieved a groove.

Instead, my sister-in-law assigned me and my husband to the bride's family table, along with the bride's mother, her husband and his family, my sister-in-law and her husband, the bride's father. There was some re-arranging as we began to seat ourselves and we seemed to play musical chairs for a few minutes and then we settled. I ended up next to Sara.

I can't even remember our first exchange, but it was so natural and we got deep fast. I barely touched my salad as we talked about spirituality. We delightedly discovered that, as a practicing Buddhist and an active Quaker, we value and know the silence of meditation and worship. I was so grateful for this conversation that would not have happened had we been surrounded by my daughters or the extended family. It was wonderful to have uninterrupted time to get to know Sara. After the deep introduction, we connected then and there on Facebook just so we'd have a means of getting back in touch. A few weeks later, one Facebook comment led to an e-mail and we made plans to have a phone conversation.

I had it penned in my calendar and was so looking forward to the call, scheduled for just after my Friday yoga class. Sara lives in the Mountain Time Zone, so we did need to coordinate a bit. I also wondered if it would be as easy as it was in person. Sara is beautifully elegant and poised. I feel messy and out there. So, of course, when she asked me how I was, I blurted out it had been a hard week. I felt no need to keep up pretense. She, too, shared her struggles. And, as we talked, we discovered that, although, our life experiences may be different, we share common values, conditions and a strong desire to be led by Spirit ... even if we don't always manage to create time for quiet and meditation in the busy-ness of our lives.

She's launching a new coaching business that sounds to me like her life's work: helping people with their pain often experienced in career, life and health transitions, she said. She asked a lot about my art exploration with under-served kids. She calls hers a business and I can finally name mine as ministry, but they're really not that different. We both burn to make a difference in the world, in individual lives. We also discussed how the way we live seems counter-cultural, how we both have health concerns, how we have weaned ourselves from sugar (her) and gluten (me) and how hard it is amidst the busy-ness to take time to center with meditation or prayer. She's in intensive training for coaching certification and building a new business. I'm starting a new program, helping my daughters get settled in junior high and high school and keeping an eye on my mother. So parallel. 

The hour floated by so quickly and we committed to chatting again. When I pressed the end button, I thanked Spirit for this bright spot in a tough week. And for the musical chairs that allowed me to meet and know Sara. God knew I was looking for a kindred spirit and She delivered.

...
I must confess that I may have been primed for this meeting earlier in the summer when I spoke my heart at a Quaker retreat, calling for companionship and a wonderful soul, unknown to me, immediately responded with an embrace that lasted through my tears. She embodied God's arms [http://salonforthesoul.blogspot.com/2012/07/remembering-i-am-loved.html]. Sara, I believe, is a mirror for me.

• When have I received the gift of deep connection with an apparent stranger?
• How has that affected me?
• How did I recognize it?
• What may have opened me?
• How did I express my gratitude?


preparing for the
family wedding,

watching the girls
get glamorous,
even Lily
was not in pants

I was ready for
a raucous time
with my silly
brothers-in-law

catching up
with the nieces
and nephews

meeting the
family's newest
member

I never dreamed

I'd make a new
friend, one
so like me on
the inside

Somewhere between

I seem to be thrust into the lives of many 20-somethings lately in the midst of beginning to mourn my parents' looming mortality.

Perhaps the perspective of my folks' health difficulties roots my observations of youth. And I am somewhere – exactly – between. A place of being present leads me to look at these young adults with new eyes ... pupils that see wisdom in their inexperience. View the inexperience as fresh, unfiltered and an extraordinary lesson for me.

THE WEDDING
We're invited to a weekend gathering culminating in a Sunday fairy wedding outdoors on a carpet of rainbow petals and vows affirming the power of nature. And a reception where the 20-somethings only dance communally, continually inviting all into their vibrant circle. However, well before the wedding and reception came the get-acquainted picnic [simply and beautifully staged in a park shelter along the lake, lit with candles and strewn with gourmet goodies] and regular breakfasts at the inn with other wedding guests so that by Sunday, we really were family. There was such a sense of community that it felt like a village wedding with guests who, two days prior, had been complete strangers. I have never experienced that before. We were all really invested in this relationship, which is what drove the loving community that formed.

One of my favorite wedding stories came from the groom's father the morning after. He said when the couple was dropped at their hotel, they had nothing save the bride's small purse and their wedding clothes. Not even a credit card to confirm their reservation. They fearlessly assumed their attire would admit them. What wonderfully innocent confidence.

I used to have that and was reminded recently when that very phrase surfaced and resurfaced in my journal. It was always attached to the vigilant mother. The tense one on the lookout. I loved this example and embodiment of innocent confidence. I need a reminder model.

THE ACTRESS
During the course of the wedding visit, we squeaked in time with my daughters' favorite baby sitter, whom they claim as their older sister.  She's the most beautiful, fun, loving and creative person I know. She recently graduated from college in drama and works as a nanny. I look at her and she just oozes talent, yet can't find work in her field and bestows her talents on four very lucky toddlers. She's furnished her apartment via the finest area thrift stores and it works: spired clocks, Eastlake dressers, green-and-gold plush chairs and couch ...  castoffs that have creatively been assembled into a home. One she shares with another amazing 20-something also seeking her way.

It reminds me of my life post college that, from this vantage, looks pretty tough. Yet I reveled in its freedom, simplicity, independence and responsibility. It's as if no one of another age existed in the world -- or at least no other perspective. The relish, enthusiasm, zest and joy was so evident, intoxicating and contagious in all of these 20-somethings.

As Harry said while dining with Sally: "I'll have whatever they're (she's) having."


• To whom do I look for wisdom?
• What can I gain from those younger than myself?
• What memory do they spark in me that needs to be rekindled?
• What zest can I revive?
• How can I be the right balance of a 20-something in an older-something body?


come
as you
are
whomever
you are


come
to
the circle


the fiery
circle
of
movement,
rhythm
and
an
all-inclusive
invitation


it
will
revive
your spirit,


remove
your
weariness,


replacing
it with
rekindled
memory

Up the kite string

Lily's been wanting to be with me lately – like really close and snuggly. Just us. So, she set her alarm for 6:15 am, a half hour early, and crept into my bed. Tad was up at 6, so it was just the two of us. I had forgotten how wonderful that can be. So much melts away. She has always had a loud bark, which, often, makes me forget how young she is. The snuggling reminded me that she still does need and want my care and touch.

We both fell back to sleep. Later, she asked if I felt her medicine. I thought a minute and said, yes.

Ever since I've discovered I have fibromyalgia, she has physically comforted me in particularly bad spells. Either I haven't had as many lately or I haven't remembered to ask. So much of parenting happens in a blur that special nuances and rituals get lost. Even forgotten. I am so glad to be reminded that she is my medicine. Wild thing that she can be, she has a really big heart.

I have always loved the book, Where the Wild Things Are, and get a lump in my throat when I watch the movie because Lily is Max and every kid who feels alone, different or isolated ... until he finds a kindred spirit. As Carol, the wild thing, and Max are medicine for each other, Lily and I do the same. I have that relationship, though differently, with each of my daughters.

What intrigues me most about Lily is show different we are. Autumn I know like the back of my hand, which has its pluses (I totally understand her) and minuses (because I do, I often pay more attention to Lily and her wildness). I am learning that Lily and I are mirrors for each other. I teach her about discipline, dedication and respect and she reminds me to be fierce and playful. Sometimes together. Some day, I want to write a book called Letting my Lily out.

I had an interesting dream several years ago about being attached to what seemed like a kite string and looking up to see where it went. When I did, I saw Lily boosting herself up and waving for me to follow. She is fearless. It was as if she knew the grand adventure of climbing into the mystery and had no qualms about starting.

I'd put my child-development books away and hadn't thought much about them until a month or so ago, when Lily's behavior perplexed me. Then I read a really revealing article from the Waldorf School on the development of nine-year-olds and how it is such a pivotal time as they move away from the comfort and safety of childhood and familial closeness to gaining a sense of singleness, isolation and identity. The whispers of individuation. I feel that on the opposite end of the spectrum as I grow beyond middle age and into new, uncharted and wild territory.

Guess I will always be following her up the kite string. Thank heavens I have a trusted, though sometimes feisty, guide!

• What are my children or the children I know teaching me about myself?
• Is there anything in their development, fears or anxieties with which I can identify?
• Is there anything in their fearlessness and enthusiasm that I should reclaim?
• Who is my medicine? To whom am I medicine?
• What's up my kite string?

I've been
so busy
looking
down
at the
ground,
that I
hadn't
noticed the
string
the string
gently
looped around
my wrist
so as not to
get lost
for me,
not to
get lost
the tugging
made me
notice and
look up
up to
where
Lily
was
climbing
into the
clouds
with a
ferocious
smile and
wild wave,
begging me
to follow
and,
I did

Ring around the rosy

This morning as I was meeting with a client, I happened to mentioned we’d had an office across the street years ago. He told me a family had purchased that house and intended to restore it. He mentioned a few more details and it became very clear that the family is one I know from an entirely different circle than the person with whom I was conversing. He was incredulous. I was not surprised.

I always love those connections, when the world seems small and friendly, not big and cold. They seem to happen with more frequency ... or am I just more aware?

Some people call it chance, serendipity or coincidence. But I think otherwise.

It reminds me of a concept postulated (more likely “inspired” wisdom) by the early monastic Abba Dorotheos of Gaza. He described the relationship between people and God and other people as a compass with God as the center point, the outside circle the world, and individual lives as the lines from the outside to the core. “The closer they are to God, the closer they become to one another; and the closer they are to one another, the closer they became to God,” he said.

I find in my own life that as I have grown more intimate with God and developed deeper relationships with others, we all seem to touch and bump into each other more than when I was younger.

I relish those encounters and am grateful for some awareness when they happen.


• What shape is my world – the one full of relationships between me and others, me and God, all of us?
• Do I feel these chance encounters are something more? What, specifically?
• Have I ever said that out loud or discussed it with someone?
• What do others feel?
• Is this something I should share?


Ring around the rosy.
When we’re young,
we seemed at the center,
everyone gathered ‘round us.

Much like before Copernicus
dispelled the earth-is-the
center-of-the-universe theory.

As we mature, we experience
another rotation, out of
the center and to the
edge of the circle.
We’re no longer rosy.

However, as we gravitate
toward others at the fringe
and the Source at the
core, we move distinctly
closer to ALL.