Change vs discovery

heartprint

One of the most common pieces of advice you hear about relationships is to avoid trying to change the other person. Be yourself as well as you can, and accept the other for who they are.

When you first begin to get to know a person you are newly attracted to, you are, of course, putting your best self forward. And you know they are doing the same.

The time you spend together — whether you call it ‘dating’ or something else — gradually reveals more of the other’s as well as your own authentic self within the safety of developing affection for each other. You most often cannot know immediately whether a relationship will work out, as sweet and exciting as the love-at-first-sight idea is.

At the beginning, the compatibilities seem obvious, comforting and enticing.

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Long overdue…

Hello readers!

I hope this is the last time that i’ll have to express regrets for a long absence.

In my inaugural Ruminations post of December 2014, i explained my reasons for not making the cancer diagnosis a major topic of the blog. Unfortunately, it does make sense to refer to its ramifications occasionally, particularly after i’ve been prevented from posting regularly.

Returning today from the longest sabbatical since i started the blog is just such an occasion…

autumn-haze

Winter is coming. I never used to mind that.

But now with winter’s approach come dismal emotions that accompany anniversaries of diagnosis and treatment.

This November 1st marks three years since the declaration. I call it the great Time Marker.

I am, as far as i know, cancer-free. The subsequent string of severe complications from the treatment appears to finally be over, but has resulted in permanent discomforts and limitations — which is why i am only now getting back to writing. They make the anniversary a bit more challenging to grieve over and move beyond.

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A new year’s post?

Well, this is a little disconcerting, a new year’s post in March.

But as the turn of the year fell during my recent unanticipated absence, i didn’t want to miss taking note of it now that i’m back.

Marking off the segments of our lives by the calendar can seem arbitrary — has anything really changed other than the date? — yet we do seem to have a deep-seated inclination to do so. Or, as with resolutions, it’s that we take advantage of the flip of that particular calendar page to deliberately impose a reboot.

The following untitled poem by my dear friend Kris Harmelink (shared with her permission) touches on these ideas.

***

One moment

Bleeds to the next

But I draw up

A distinction,

I break those unsuspecting

Moments apart

Declaring

That was then

But this is now:

A newness

***

Happy new moment!

water

And this is life

I have often observed over the years that moments of great sorrow or great joy rarely are composed of purely one or the other. My darkest moments come accompanied with hints of light, as when tears of grief remind me i cry only because i *had* someone or something of value to lose. And on occasions of highest elation, i’m faintly reminded of how fleeting such moments tend to be.

yinyang

This came to mind again when i came across this meme — which also connects well with the Morning Dark poem i posted a week ago.

May you experience harmony this holiday season.

Morning dark

stars pine trees

Hello readers!  I’m back from a brief absence, and with this post i’m returning to an early passion for poetry. I hope something in the following piece speaks to you.

***

Morning Dark

In the still of earliest morning

Dark still rules yet pledges light

I’m thinking of how things fall apart.

 

And how mirth collides with mourning

With dawn afar, dark heralds night

Color in shadows requires art

 

And rarely, with less forewarning,

Things come together, they turn upright

This i stumbled on by heart

 

The art we make at night must be with inner light composed

So with a heart that’s scarred and yet more open than supposed

I find most often now I write with both of my eyes closed

Writing about adversity…

rocky-rapids

I have two favorite quotes i’m thinking about today. Though the topics they touch on are unrelated, they seem tightly intertwined for me:  writing and coping with adversity…

“Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers.”
(Isaac Asimov)

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.”
(Ernest Hemingway)

I expect many of you can relate to both quotes, and that you know from experience how writing can be one way of working through adversity, if not during it, then in its aftermath.

Whether or not you write, if you find yourself facing adveristy of whatever sort, i wish you strength and peace.

god’s weeping…

tear-drop-2

Religious fervor has been in the news in a big way this week. Regardless of where you fall on the spectrum of the god question, you could hardly avoid the news of the pope’s visit to the U.S., its significance and massive response much covered and commented on.

I did not follow the events of his visit closely, but i did hear that in reference to victims of child abuse, he asserted, “God weeps.”

That statement started me weeping.

I have some personal familiarity with the issue. I was a very strong believer at the time (i was not the victim directly), and the events i’m referring to did not drive me away from belief. Rather, i was comforted and inspired by the idea of a god who suffers with us.

Believing in a god who could have intervened, but who chose not to prevent the infliction of this particular harm, necessitated also believing that at the very least, the atrocity somehow hurt him too. I granted that the Why question belonged to the shadowlands where mysteries remain beyond us for now.

Along the way in the many years since, i have become less able to find the notion of god’s weeping either comforting or persuasive. It has, of course, never been merely an academic exercise. I suspect it never is for anyone who has known the indefinite suffering of deep violation.

As i have written about elsewhere, my very gradual development toward non-belief has not been driven primarily by personally painful experiences, though they inescapably play a crucial role in the narrative. As regards the pope’s statement, though, I am much more ready to accept my own troubles than those dealt to a child from a predator’s hands.

While in these contemplations today, i happened on an article that touched tangentially on questions of god and suffering. In it, writer Darin Strauss, who considers himself a skeptic, queries believer Erik Kolbell, Minister of Social Justice at Riverside Church in New York City. Here is part of Kolbell’s response with regard to suffering:

“I do believe that we can effect both good and ill on earth, and, as pertains to the question of inexplicable and arbitrary suffering, while we cannot explain it (to do so is to demean it), we can redeem it.”

There is profound resonance for me in his point about demeaning another’s suffering by attempting to explain it. It cannot be explained. But what we can do is remain mindful of our own capabilities for good or ill, in big and small ways — after all, there are no small ways.

I see ‘redeeming’ as being ready to seize every opportunity to prevent suffering, to otherwise mitigate it by offering comfort, and finally to realize our deep human connection to each other in the face of it.

Now that i can be inspired by.