It occurs to me…

From the poet Mary Oliver, this beautiful prose (that still somehow feels like poetry) from her most recent book, Upstream.

“It is six a.m., and I am working.  I am absentminded, reckless, headless of social obligations, etc.  It is as it must be.  The tire goes flat, the tooth falls out, there will be hundreds of meals without mustard.  The poem gets written.  I have wrestled with the3 angel and I am stained with light and I have no shame.  Neither do I have guilt.  My responsibility is not to the ordinary, or the timely.  It does not include mustard, or teeth.  It does not extend to the lost button, or the beans in the pot.  My loyalty is to the inner vision, whenever and however it may arrive.  If I have a meeting with you at three o’clock, rejoice if I am late.  Rejoice even more if I do not arrive at all.”

Of course, the first thing that occurs to the cynic in me (we won’t discuss how much of me that is) is that Oliver has no clients or judges to deal with, at least not on that day.  But there goes my cynicism pitching a bucket of water on this bit of enlightenment.  Perhaps I have to put off my “loyalty to the inner vision, whenever and however it may arrive,” until later.  Still, I can at least acknowledge its arrival and place it in a comfortable spot until I can get spend more time with it.

“All human beings are ratios of being and becoming….  Being is something that always involves becoming, and I think that’s really the glory of the human race.  I don’t think anybody should write us off.  We’re not done yet.”  Joy Ladin

I heard this yesterday while listening to an On Being podcast and it settled in as truth.  At any given moment I am this  individual mass of cells, yes, but even those are “being and becoming.” As I type this my body, my cellular makeup, is regenerating and reforming.  (All I need to do is look in the mirror or at old photos to confirm that.)  From a physiological standpoint we are, all of us, constantly “being and becoming” so long as we live and breathe.

It occurs to me that this process of being and becoming applies even more so to the less tangible parts of me, to my thoughts, my views, my attitudes.  I still see and think of some things as I did yesterday, a year ago, a decade or two ago, but in many respects, I see, understand, think of things differently now than I did then.  Indeed – “All human beings are ratios of being and becoming….”  Which of course raises the questions:  “What am I being?  What am I becoming?”

“It is a little embarrassing that, after forty-five years of research and study, the best advice I can give to people is the be a little kinder to each other.”  Aldous Huxley

I have fifteen years on Huxley and still don’t have any better advice.

I ran across this today from Henry Miller, in a book of quotations, under “adventure:”

“In every man’s heart there is anchored a little schooner.”

It occurs to me that enjoyment in life might, at least in part, be measured by how often one pulls up the anchor and sets the sail.

“We come.  We go.  And in between we try to understand.”  Rod Steiger

That pretty much sums it up.  It initially sounds a bit cynical, but in reality, some days, sometimes, in some situations, I see/understand more/better than others.  In this I am reminded of 1 Corinthians 13:12 which speaks of seeing “a poor reflection in a mirror” (NIV) or seeing “through a glass, darkly.”

I see what I see, as I see it through all those self-created filters (my bias, my prejudice, my imperfect understanding…)  It occurs to me that the solace rests in the thought that the key is not the result (the “poor reflection” I see at any given point) but in my continued effort to understand/see more clearly — and in the assurance in that same passage that “then I shall know fully.”

C. S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity, refers to pride as “the essential vice” and “the utmost evil.” As compared to pride, he refers to the other vices as “mere fleabites.” He makes a pretty good case for his point:

“Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man.  We say that people are proud of being rich or clever or good-looking, but they are not.  They are proud of being richer or cleverer or better looking than others.  If everyone else became equally rich, or clever, or good-looking there would be nothing to be proud about.  It is the comparison that makes you proud; the pleasure of being above the rest….  Greed may drive man into competition if there is not enough to go round; but the proud man, even when he has got more than he can possibly want, will try to get still more….

Lewis has me convinced.

“If you compare yourself with others you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons that yourself.”  Max Ehrmann – Desiderata

Every time I read this I think that Ehrmann left out something.  Yes, comparing myself to a “greater person” is likely to cause me to be envious, to “become vain and bitter.”   “I can’t _____ like _____ “ thoughts could do that.  But generally, I rationalize that away and convince myself that if I put the effort into _____ that _____ puts into it, I might be able to.  After all, I could learn to paint, to sing well, be a scratch golfer, but I just haven’t put the effort into it.  (I know these are not likely true, but they COULD be.)

But what it seems to me that Ehrmann left out is, I think, the effects of the greater risk – that of comparing myself to “lesser persons.”  That can cause me to become prideful and arrogant – or, as the case may be, more prideful and arrogant.

So there it is.  Comparing myself to others leads to “vain and bitter” or prideful and arrogant.  It occurs to me that Ehrmann is correct – Best not to compare.

Plans!  So I sit down for a nice weekend morning of thinking and writing and a few minutes into it I get the BSOD (Blue Screen of Death) on my computer.  I spend the next 45 minutes trying to resolve that, and ultimately do (but not without angst and a few expletives).  As I sit back down to write, now beyond my allotted time, I feel distracted, harried, and yes, frustrated that my projected arc across the universe has been interrupted.

Suddenly, uncharacteristically, I am able to rise above and see this as a critical point in my day.  To borrow from Frost, I am at the spot where “two roads diverge in a yellow wood” and I have a choice to make. Uncharacteristically, I choose to sit back and just laugh at myself – “My arc across the universe has been interrupted.”  In my dreams!  My “arc across the universe” looks more like a connect the dots game that ultimately produces no recognizable image.  The thought that it will look like anything recognizable is indeed laughable.  The term “whirling dervish” comes to mind, which the Urban Dictionary defines as: “A person whose behavior resembles a rapid, spinning object. These actions are often spastic fidgeting and incessant babbling. The actions of the whirling dervish are irritating and annoying, often exhausting other people in the immediate vicinity.”

Yep, that pretty much hits the nail on the head.  Today, I choose to not take myself too seriously, yes, even laugh at myself.  Two roads.  At least so far today (after the angst and expletives) “I took the one less traveled by.  And that has made all the difference.”  Of course it is only 8:17 a.m.

Argghh!  One wakes up on St. Patrick’s Day and thinks green beer and contemplates what green garment I have in my closet to wear.  (Do I have any green garments?  Green socks?  Anything green?)  But C. S. Lewis and Oswald Chambers will have none of that.  No, today they want to talk about heaven and hell, good and bad choices, and how all those decisions shape life.  Not a green shamrock or a leprechaun in sight.

From C. S. Lewis:

“I would much rather say that every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before.  And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning that central thing either into a heavenly creature or a hellish creature….”

From Oswald Chambers:

“Is my master ambition to please Him and be acceptable to Him, or is it something less, no matter how noble.”

I suppose Lewis, Chambers, and George Jones are an unlikely trio, but what the heck – It is St. Patrick’s Day.  (Actually, the songwriting credit goes to Billy Yates and Michael Curtis):

“I’ve had choices, since the day that I was born, and I’ve heard voices, that told me right from wrong.  If I had listened, no I wouldn’t be here today.  Livin’ and dyin’ with the choices I made.”

I am going to look in my closet for something green.  Is it too early for a green beer?