I have needed a dose of Obama these last few days.
One of my favorite Christmas presents this year was the coffee table book of photographs of Obama during his presidency. Soon after Christmas I sat in the snug and paged slowly through the book, marveling at his humanity, his handsomeness, his honorable outlook and presence. He wasn't perfect, of course, but I felt proud to have him as our leader.
Pride in our national leaders is not what I have been feeling lately.
Obviously, I am appalled at our president's language. Is it just me or is the president becoming more self-assured about using such overtly racist language because he knows certain factions will explain, will justify, will shrug their shoulders and say something like "He just says what most Americans think." Really????
Is he becoming more comfortable showing his true colors because he knows he won't be challenged in the moment and because he knows many others in position of power and responsibility will turn off their hearing aids and pretend they didn't hear or don't recall what was said?
I am grateful Senator Richard Durbin (D-Ill) reported to the press what the president said during a meeting about immigration, and I am grateful to those Republicans who decry what he said, but I want to know how the people in the room reacted the moment the words were uttered.
Philip Kennicott, the art and architecture critic for The Washington Post calls this the "dinner table test," and asks the question what do you do when bigotry is so clearly revealed? Did anybody interrupt and say, "I can't listen to this and either you apologize immediately or I am leaving." ? Did anyone say, "I'm out of here." Did anyone dare to call him on what he said immediately after he said it?
These are times that require courage and integrity. Sometimes it is good to pause in the moment and ask yourself, what is it that needs to be said? What is it I need to do? But sometimes the pause stretches beyond the teachable moment, the moment of authenticity, the moment that could have been better served by a knee jerk reaction. The moment when you feel your chest tighten, your eyes blink, and your jaw drop open.
When we ground ourselves in the dignity and equality of all people, and if we remember we are all beloved by God, and if we commit ourselves to live as the people God created us to be, we are better able to respond in the moment and to say, "No, that is not right. No, I will not accept what you are saying and what you are doing."
I know there are times in my life when I have not responded with courage at the moment it was most needed. Other times, however, I have listened to my pounding heart and said or done something that needed action right then. I want to be more of that kind of person, and I want our leaders to be that way, too.
An Invitation
Where have you lived with courage lately? I would love to know.
You can read Philip Kenicott's essay here.
I am about to embark on a big adventure, and I must admit I am a bit nervous. Nope, I have not signed up for skydiving or kayaking down the Mississippi. I am not doing yoga on a paddle board as our daughter did this past weekend. I am not walking across the desert--walking in our neighborhood suits me just fine, thank you very much. Nor have I decided to buy a Harley and go on a road trip.
Those of you who know me understand I am not much of a risk taker, especially when it comes to physical feats. I so admire my friend who recently went to Mongolia and stayed in a ger, also known as a yurt, a portable round tent covered with skins, and other women I know who grab zip lines in the jungle or who live and breathe for the next challenging ski run. That is not me.
My big adventure doesn't involve leaving home or wearing special gear or applying for Visas. Preparation and hard, everyday work have been involved, however, and will continue to be necessary, along with the ongoing presence of a guide.
If you have been reading this blog for some time, you know that I am writing a book. This past year I have spent focused time on this project, especially this summer when I have been taking an intense online twelve week class, Your Book Starts Here, Part 2, offered through The Loft. (I took Part One last fall.) A major aspect of each week has been to submit the draft of a chapter from my book to my small group of three other memoir writers for their feedback. At first that was scary, and I felt unsure and vulnerable and sometimes I was ready to turn and run back down the mountain, but I trusted my guide, the most excellent her royal highness Mary Carroll Moore, and opened myself to all the feedback my fellow writers have suggested. I am grateful for their support and camaraderie.
This week we are embarking on the next part of this trip, one that causes me to hold my breath and wonder if I am strong enough for the challenge. Our assignment this week, along with continuing to write and also submitting a chapter to our group as we do every week, is to read our entire manuscript from beginning to end.
I have compiled, organized, and printed every chapter, every piece of unworked free writing into one document of about 71,000 words, 235 double-spaced pages, and it is now sitting on my desk. Waiting for me to take the plunge.
Why is this so scary? Well, what if I hate it? What if I feel I have totally wasted my time? What if I regret spending the four hours or so every day this summer working on this project? And then there is the other side as well. What if I basically feel good about the direction of what I am doing? Do I then have the stamina and the courage and commitment to see this book to its fruition? Will I ever be able to find an agent and if that happens, will a publisher want it? Or should I self-publish it? EEEEK--I'm a writer not a publisher. Do I have to learn all about that, too? Well, the list of fears and what ifs can go on and on.
How easy it is to jump ahead when all that is required of me in this moment is to grab this stack of paper and sit in a comfortable chair with a Diet Coke next to me and a pink highlighter in my hand and begin to read.
Before reading, however, I will close my eyes, lightly, not tightly, and I will breathe, first deeply and then more evenly, as I find my own rhythm. I will rest in the quiet for a few minutes, listening for that inner voice that called me to show up and to do what I have said I have wanted to do--to write. I will listen again to that voice, the voice of Spirit who lives within me and gently supports me as I attempt to be the person I was created to be. I will listen to the difference between Spirit and my active Inner Critic, who thought it would be a good idea to stop working on this pipe dream of writing a book when I didn't get the grant I applied for this last spring. That inner critic who urged me to stop working so hard. "For what? You'll never get this book published any way and you might not even finish it. You don't have to do this?"
Julia Cameron, as quoted in Creative Authenticity, 16 Principles to Clarify and Deepen Your Artistic Vision by Ian Roberts says,
Creativity is really a spiritual issue, point blank!
Period! It takes courage. Another word for courage is
faith--and scripturally we say "faith without works is
dead". Creatively, it is exactly the same thing, so the
whole trick is to get people into action, to take creativity
out of the realm of theory and into the realm of practice.
What that means is to show up, to take the next step, however scary and uncertain. For me, today, that means daring to read what I have written. Just that. The next part of the adventure will unfold, I am sure of that.
Therefore, I have packed my backpack for this big adventure, and I bring the following with me for sustenance and inspiration:
I cherish my own courage. I salute myself for the
brave action I undertake in my life. I focus with
clarity and appreciation on the choices I have made
which have required courage and self-determination.
I applaud myself for my strength and my daring. Rather
than belittle myself for my fears, I choose to honor
myself for the bravery with which I have often walked
through my fears. I count back in specific ways and
enumerate for myself examples of my own courage:
the new friendship I have undertaken, the steadiness I
have shown in a difficult job, the honesty I have
displayed in opening a difficult conversation. I honor
myself for my bigheartedness in the face of challenges
from which I could have--but did not--shrunk back. My
courage brings blessings in my life. My courage blesses
the lives of others.
Blessings, Prayers and Declarations
for a Heartful Life, pp 74-75
Julia Cameron
An Invitation
In what ways are you asked to be courageous in your life right now? Is there a Big Adventure that is calling you? Is there an Inner Critic or Naysayer who gets in your way? What words do you have for that negative, nagging voice? How is Spirit guiding you and what is the next step? I would love to know.
Resources
The Loft Literary Center https://www.loft.org
Mary Carroll Moore http://www.marycarrollmoore.com
Julia Cameron http://juliacameronlive.com
Ian Roberts http://www.ianroberts.com
When you move to a new state, certain things are required. One is to register your car and get new license plates. In fact, in Minnesota you have 60 days from your move-in date to do that. I trooped off to the department of motor vehicles one morning with all the appropriate paper work--title to the car, proof of insurance, identification, and a filled-out application. I was determined not to get frustrated and instead to be friendly and patient. Basically, that went well, even though in spite of being number two in line and having all the required documents and information, it still took over 45 minutes to complete this task. Mission accomplished.
Next on the "must do" list: take the written test for a Minnesota driver's license. That meant I needed to study the Minnesota Drivers Manual. Most of what I read seemed like common sense ("Driving faster than the posted speed limit is illegal."), or has been learned with experience, such as maneuvering roundabouts. However, I was not familiar with the sign for a narrow bridge nor did I know it is possible to be killed in a crash when traveling at speeds as low as 12 mph. I read through the manual twice, underlining key points as I read, and then I made an appointment with myself for Test Day.
I vividly recall doing the same thing when we moved to Ohio. I studied the manual and went to a testing location and took the written test. I remember thinking when it came time to relinquish my Minnesota driver's license, "Do I really want to do this? I guess we really live here." The state employee extended his hand for the license, but I held the license tightly, a little too tightly. Ultimately, I handed it over, relieved at least I had passed the test. Mission accomplished.
When we moved to Wisconsin, taking the written test was not required. I wondered why that is, but I didn't argue. I breathed a sigh of relief and replaced my Ohio license with the Wisconsin one. Mission accomplished.
Test Anxiety
I didn't need to make an appointment to take the written test, except with myself, and I didn't tell anyone that was my Wednesday morning plan. I made a lunch date with my Dad, saying I would be doing errands that morning, and in my usual morning email to a friend I didn't mention the specific "errand" I would be doing. Why? Well, what if I didn't pass and then had to admit that? I was anticipating embarrassment.
Off I went. Again, I had the appropriate documents in hand--my passport and my Wisconsin drivers license--and I had a bag full of reading material, anticipating a wait. I had meditated before leaving, and again, I was determined not to get frustrated, but instead to be friendly and patient.
Still, I was nervous.
How many tests have I taken over the years, beginning with the Iowa Basic Skills Tests over and over again in elementary school and later the dreaded SATs and Grad Recs and all the tests in between? Instead of accruing enough confidence to get me through yet another test, I had accumulated unconscious test anxiety, which I could feel rising as I stood in line waiting to register.
Eventually, I was seated at the computer monitor, put on the head phones, took a deep breath, a very deep breath, and started the test. With each answer you are told immediately if your answer is correct or incorrect. First question: correct. Yes! Second question: incorrect. Oh no! I knew 80% was a passing grade, but I didn't know how many questions there would be, and I didn't know how many questions you could answer incorrectly and still pass the test.
I took another deep breath and knew there was nothing to do, but continue. On and on and on the questions seemed to keep coming. Would this never end? I missed two other questions, becoming more nervous as I went along. Did you know a slow-moving vehicle emblem must be displayed on all vehicles that travel at speeds of 30 mph or less? I guessed 20 mph. Wrong!!!! However, one question was repeated--something about whether having a drivers license in Minnesota is a right or a privilege--and I had answered that correctly the first time, so the second time was a sweet gift.
Relief!
Finally, the test was over, and I had passed with a score of 91%! I was elated, absolutely thrilled. I felt like I was 16 and was applying for my drivers license for the very first time. I paid my money and stood for the unflattering photo and walked out the door a little taller and lighter. Mission accomplished.
What was that all about I have wondered in the days since then? Where does that kind of anxiety come from? After all, if I had not passed it, I could have studied more and returned to take the test again. And more importantly, I only needed to take the written test and not the road test. I am a good driver and logically, I knew I would pass the test. The idea of failing loomed over me, however. The worry I would not measure up sat heavily within.
For the most part I am not a person who worries a great deal. I don't generally become nervous about what could happen, what might happen and what is waiting to happen. Basically, I put my confidence in preparation and then move forward, but the anxiety I felt about this test made me think about what fears I hold and about my relationship to trust.
Re-Learning the Lessons of Trust and Courage
It seems to me that each time I feel anxiety or fear rise within me, there is an opportunity to re-learn that God is within me. Instead of discounting how my body or thoughts are speaking to me, I need to remind myself to listen closely to what life is telling me. It is through our day to day experiences, the people and situations and events that swirl around us, that there is a call to live fully, live deeply. An invitation to live with trust and courage.
Harriet Lerner http://www.harrietlerner.com has written a marvelous book about fear and anxiety, Fear and Other Uninvited Guests, Tackling the Anxiety, Fear, and Shame That Keep Us from Optimal Living and Loving. I commend this book to you no matter what anxiety lurks within you today. As a sample, here is her courage list:
There is courage in taking action.
There is courage in speaking.
There is courage in questioning.
There is courage in pure listening.
There is courage in thinking for ourselves.
There is courage in being accountable.
Ultimately, every decision, every action is one reflecting love or reflecting fear. Even taking the test to get my drivers license. I love living here once again, and therefore, I needed to conquer my fear of taking the test. I am so glad I did, and doing that, I know that I have reinforced, if only a little bit, my ability to live with courage and trust.
An Invitation
What kinds of situations raise "test anxiety" within you and how do you typically respond? Where are you being invited to live with courage and trust?
Recently, Pete, age 4, had a sleepover at our St Paul apartment. This was a true rite of passage for him, as he had never stayed overnight away from home without his big sister. He talked about the coming event for days and was more and more excited as we drove to the building. We settled in quickly, setting up his new sleeping bag on the living room floor and unpacking his suitcase. He prepared well for his overnight, packing not only his pajamas and dragon slippers and clothes for the next day, but also selecting items that would provide security: books and a book light (Maybe his most prized possession.), his buddy Curious George, a flashlight, and one of his little blankets from when he was a baby--something he hasn't used for a very long time.
He expressed concern that he would be sleeping alone in the living room, but accepted my explanation that he sleeps alone in his own bedroom at home and Mom and Dad sleep in another room. He had a hard time falling asleep, but he didn't cry or call for me, and eventually, he slept all night. He did it.
Childhood is so full of challenges. We adults think we have it tough, but just think about everything a baby has to learn and conquer in the first years. Pete seems to be in another time of making big leaps. He's mastered potty training (for the most part!) and knows his letters and numbers and now wants to learn how to read. He wants playmates, for his mother, father, and sister are not quite enough. He goes to speech therapy class and is doing so well, catching up with all he has to communicate to the world.
There are bound to be some bumps along the way. Some meltdowns. Some resistance. But he's doing it and now he knows he can survive and even have fun sleeping away from home. And he lived to tell the tale.
I think about my father. My mother died almost nine years ago. Much of his working life has been away from home, and he is comfortable being by himself in a hotel room, but being home alone was new for him. Mom didn't travel without him and with rare exception, when she was in the hospital following the births of we three children or much later when she was recovering from colon surgery, when he was home, she was there, too. But these last nine years he has adapted and handled that challenge. Yes, there have been some bumps along the way. Some meltdowns. Some resistance. But he's doing it, and he knows he can survive and live his life well. He has lived to tell the tale.
I like what Stephanie Dowrick says about courage, referring to a friend, in her book Choosing Happiness, Life and Soul Essentials, "Extending rather than changing herself, she will discover that the courage she believes she needs can be found as she dares to act more courageously even if the old fears are present. In other words, she doesn't need to find courage in order to make change. In fact, my experience is that the contrary is true: as we make whatever change is needed, we also gain courage. (p.36)
Peter and my father inspire me. They inspire me to extend myself and face new challenges. New ways of living--sometimes unexpected, unwanted, but even ones we think we want are not always easily managed. There will be bumps along the way. I will meltdown now and then. I will resist, But I'll do it. I will survive. And I will have a richer life because of it. And I will live to tell the tale.