Broken Open

Yesterday I bought a new book. Which in itself is a thing, since I`m trying to get rid of books, reduce my load of stuff. I got a Kindle to reduce the tonnage of paper I live with all the time. But, y`know, a Kindle in the bathtub, probably not a wise idea. So, I still buy actual paper books.

This one is by Elizabeth Lesser, called Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow. It`s one of those books that`s so exactly what I would want to write, it makes me think, “what am I thinking? What do I have to add to this?”

The point Lesser would make, though, is that the story each of us can tell is our own. As we journey from dark into light, or from apparent light into darkness and back again, we are never alone. No matter how grievous the loss, how excruciating the pain, how foolish I feel, others have trod this same path. The more we share of those experiences where we are only human, the more we recognize ourselves in one another.

She opens many chapters with a quote that sets the tone for that section. One of my favourites is from clown-activist Wavy Gravy: “We`re all bozos on the bus, so we may as well sit back and enjoy the ride.” All of us feel strange and ashamed, “as if there is another bus somewhere, rolling along on a smooth road. Its passengers are all thin, healthy, happy, well-dressed….hold jobs that don`t bore or aggravate them, and never do mean things or goofy things like forget where they parked their car, lose their wallet, or say something totally inappropriate.”

She goes on to say that it “may be the first step to enlightenment to understand with all of your brain cells that the other bus – that sleek bus with the cool people who know where they are going – is also filled with bozos: bozos in drag, bozos with secrets.” We`re all alike, we all make mistakes, and when we feel the most vulnerable, the most stupid, the most hurt, that no-one else could possibly be quite as much a bozo, is when we`re the most human.

Some famous person (I can never remember if it was Leonard Cohen or T.S. Eliot) said that the broken places are where the light gets in.

I`m only partway through reading the book, but I pass it along as a strong recommendation. I`ve laughed out loud, I`ve cried, I`ve nodded in recognition and put the book down for minutes at a stretch as I thought of something in my own life conjured up by one of her stories. It`s already a classic that has earned a place on my shelves.

Choices and Decisions

I like the distinction William Bridges makes between choices and decisions, that a decision is one we make rationally, using information and practical considerations. A choice is one we make from the heart.

In the summer of 2009, my father was seriously ill, in and out of hospital, and it was clear my mother needed help.  I drove to my parents` house, a 4 hour drive, me and 5 cats in a Honda Civic.  The plan was that my parents would sell their house and move to a really nice seniors`residence close to where I was living. I would move to the same city.

It seemed sensible. We would all move to the biggest city in the interior of BC. The big hospital is there, a good cancer clinic, lots of shopping. There are galleries and businesses there, more opportunity for someone like me with an arts and non-profit background.

We had a realtor tour the house,  and the house was for sale, after 30 years. Relatives came and my parents gave away or sold books and bigger tools. My father sent out excited emails to his friends about the move.

And then he died. It was unexpected, months sooner than we thought. Shocking. Yet, death from brain cancer can be excruciating and horrible. Instead, he went quickly, quietly, gently. The same way he`d lived, really.

My life`s path changed in that moment, but it took months to accept it. I had no time to think ahead or plan, everything seemed urgent. I had to get my mother to doctors, have her assessed, settle my father`s estate, make sure things that needed to run would keep on running.

When I took my mother to see her doctor, I was told it was “medically unsafe” for me to live with her. She became agitated, I panicked and got anxious.  I had no plan, I just lurched from lawyer to psychologist to doctor, handling what needed to be handled.

In the end, I carried on living in my parents` house while my mother moved into a new seniors residence in my hometown. It`s much like the place they`d planned to move into.

A friend of mine kept talking about the freedom to choose, that I hadn`t CHOSEN to live here. I finally said, “you know, when it comes to the big things, the ones that truly shape our lives, we rarely get a choice. You don`t get to choose your parents, whether you`re oldest or youngest in your family. You don`t get to choose when your parents die or how. You don`t get to choose what your children will be like, sometimes not even whether you have children.”

There are decisions we can make, based on logic and practicality. Maybe we go to college versus vocational training. We have choices about how hard we work, how much we put into our schooling or our job. We may get a choice about which job to take or where we live.

I didn`t WANT to move to my old hometown, I never imagined myself living in my parents`house. I even talked to a realtor about selling it. But that meant sorting things out, getting rid of what I don`t need. It seemed simpler to sell and move on. All things considered, weighing the practical pros and cons….

I hired a friend to help me tidy things up, get things to the dump, make it saleable.

Besides ongoing major and minor improvements to the house, my parents created a park-like garden that`s a miracle of planning, a true labour of love. It was something they did together for 30 years, and in a way, I felt it was their domain, especially after I left home. Now here I had full responsibility for it.

In June 2010, my friend got someone in to do some pruning, but that was a disaster. He was the expert, I was just the middle-aged daughter who had inherited the place, who didn`t understand things. I was “sentimental.” With every snip of his shears, it felt like pieces of my own body were being cut away. I cried, I stormed, I negotiated. In the end, I fired him.

The next day, I walked around the garden, then ran back for my camera. It was as if I`d never seen it before. Every few feet, there was another magical vista, another precious moment I wanted to capture. I was like a first-time parent. Every angle of light and flicker of wind was a new world to be explored, like a doorway into eternity, yet a fragile, wavering moment in time that will never come again.

When it comes to the big things that shape our lives, we rarely get to choose. We get to say no, or yes.


Quoting from Rob Brezsny`s “Free Will Astrology”

Most people associate innocence with naivete. Conventional wisdom regards it as belonging to children and fools and rookies who lack the sophistication or experience to know the tough truths about life. But the Beauty and Truth Laboratory recognizes a different kind of innocence. It’s based on an understanding that the world is always changing, and therefore deserves to be seen fresh every day. This alternative brand of innocence is fueled by an aggressive determination to empty one’s imagination of all preconceptions.

“Ignorance is not knowing anything and being attracted to the good,” wrote Clarissa Pinkola-Estes in Women Who Run With the Wolves. “Innocence is knowing everything and still being attracted to the good.”
The preceding oracle comes from my book, PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings.