The word ‘humble’ keeps coming up in my Morning Pages. Sometimes it feels virtuous. Other times it pisses me off because I feel it’s born of having events forced upon me that show me I’m not in control. As in, I am so humbled by my knee injury or so humbled by someone’s passing. The anger comes up because I know I’m being forced to figure out what it means or be doomed to one of those existences I don’t understand where people see life as a bunch of isolated or random incidents.
No. At age 50, I am certain that is not for me. Because most of the time I experience the kind of humble that revels in that space of “OK, higher being, you’ve put this on my plate. I am supposed to extract a lesson or gain some perspective or something.” That something can cover a lot of territory. Maybe it’s, “OK, I don’t understand your grand plan, but maybe I’m not supposed to … yet.”
This keeps coming up. Humble. I am not taking this lightly. It’s one thing to be humble about one’s abilities or accomplishments, it’s another to put oneself in a place of vulnerability.
I keep thinking of a friend who isn’t particularly aligned with my life philosophy. Her message on all of what’s been swirling around me the last few months is, for example, that perhaps I need to learn that sometimes knees give out and it’s part of aging and that trying to dig into why we might manifest something is blaming the victim. None of this sits well with me because it feels like a shallow interpretation of my deeply held beliefs, but it does serve to reinforce my way of being and how much I love it. There is joy for me in the ‘whys’ and I don’t buy the idea that so much of what we experience is inevitable. I like to look at reasons. It gives me comfort and makes life richer.
I concede the idea of some control appeals to me and that I despise being at the mercy of things. And perhaps there’s some residual stuff kicking up here with regard to a friendship that made me feel needy for so long. I come from a more confident place now and that part of myself recognizes this could be a bit of misplaced anger where I’m chewing on an old bone.
Bottom line, I don’t want to be needy. Or humble, truthfully.
So, bam. There it is. Truth. Mercy, neediness, humility. Quite a trio. And apparently I equate them. And not in a way that feels positive or helpful.
I need my friends right now. See, I like having friends. I love having friends. But I hate needing them. Why am I not expressing the need? Needy, needy, needy. I need. If I don’t learn to say it, I’m going to end up communicating like my parents, who expect people to read their minds when they need something. Goodness.
I need.
Say it again.
I need.
Again.
I need.
Do you mean it?
I do. But I don’t like it.
You don’t have to like it. Just allow yourself to say it.
I need.
OK, then. Welcome to humanity.
How incredibly odd, Nancy, that I would stop by your site today and find this post. I came here really just to check the URL, as I’m posting your blog to one of my Etsy teams as an example of someone who blogs daily, often with short, great observations. (The gals were talking about how afraid they are to start a blog, as they fear they’ll have nothing to say. I’m telling them that they don’t have to write big long essays.)
Anyway, in regards to this post, well…I live this…every day of my life, as you know. I used to have the exact same beliefs as you, and they were shredded when chronic pain set in. They didn’t hold up. I still don’t know where I am with them, because in some ways, they’ve returned, in others, not so much. It’s a long story…too long for this response.
But I will say this: One thing that emerged from the wreckage is that in my considerations that much of life IS random, with no inherent message, my compassion has deepened profoundly. We ARE all vulnerable, and this moves me now in such a deep and poignant way. Knowing that I could lose anything, everything, everyone at any time makes it all so much more precious to me, which ironically makes me wonder if that’s the message I was supposed to learn, if indeed there’s a greater plan at work.
When I believed there were no accidents, and that everything happens for a reason, maybe on some unconscious level I did blame the victim a bit…that’s we’re all in control if we just believe. I don’t make those judgments anymore.
I also don’t believe our creator makes us suffer in order to learn something. That would be cruel. But spirit does give us the choice to GIVE our experiences meaning by what we do with them.
Of course, it’s new that I’m even talking like that again…talking about “spirit.” Like I said, this is a much longer conversation. Perhaps it’s time for a new blog post myself. 🙂
Great to read you, as always…
Mary Ann, I love this response, as it’s not only thoughtful but you share so much of yourself. I think that what I really know is that I will always derive meaning from life and the lens on that will continue to change and evolve.
Sounds like you do have a blog post in the making …
Nancy
I’m following your journey here…beautiful posts, Nancy.
Had another thought in re-reading this tonight: the thought of not being in control used to freak me out, too, but I suppose my response these days is…so what?
I’m intrigued by this line from this post: “The anger comes up because I know I’m being forced to figure out what it means or be doomed to one of those existences I don’t understand where people see life as a bunch of isolated or random incidents.”
How interesting that you see it one way or the other. Why would seeing life as filled with isolated or random incidents “doom” you? To what?
Oh, how I appreciate the road you’re on. I’ve picked up “When Bad Things Happen to Good People” again, and am about a third of the way through it. The good rabbi deals with all of this head-on, with a laser-like focus. I think you would *really* appreciate it. I know I do.
Hi Mary Ann —
This is such a cool response. Excuse my delayed reply. Just had knee surgery on Wednesday!
I think the reason I don’t like the idea of life as a series of random occurrences is because I see such meaning in how things link up. There’s even solace in there, I suppose. But I like that you posed the question because it made me go within a bit. I guess I don’t like the idea of bobbing about and seeing what hits next. Not sure if this all makes sense, but in my head it does 🙂
Making note of the book recommendation. Let me know how it’s resonating as you get in there more.
Nancy
“…I see such meaning in how things link up.”
I hate to put it so bluntly, but how would this apply to the victims of genocide? Of rape? Murder? In general, the larger evils. I’m at the point in the book where the rabbi takes this on directly (talking about the Holocaust), as it’s the question that inevitably comes up when people speak of a grander plan.
There are so many cruel things that can happen in this life that I simply cannot believe it’s all meant to be part of some meaningful tapestry, as that would make my creator unbelievably evil. Why dispense such good fortune upon one person and starvation upon another?
Also, if it’s all “meant to be” so to speak, then how does free choice fit into that?
I agree that it’s a comforting notion–that there are no accidents, that things link up meaningfully. I used to believe it, too, until I fell into chronic pain, and those beliefs shattered. They didn’t hold up under scrutiny. (Just my opinion, obviously.)
This book is the only one I’ve read that speaks the truth to me. God cannot be the puppeteer AND give us free choice. Like a loving parent, he can only bear witness to our suffering with deep compassion, letting us make our mistakes, letting life happen as it will, with all its chaos (which is necessary in order for us to grow). This is what the rabbi believes, anyway. Not sure I’m there just yet. (I also haven’t finished the book.)
But this is a much larger discussion.
I just read about your surgery and hope you heal beautifully.
Thanks for replying to these posts.
You’re right. It is a much larger discussion. But in short, this is where I believe letting go has to come in for me. Just because I don’t understand the purpose of something in the grand scheme doesn’t mean there isn’t one. It might not be apparent for two months, two decades or two generations. I just don’t know. I don’t equate harsh things happening with the creator being evil. I question a lot, but since we don’t have control over those cruel things it comforts me to believe something is at work. I don’t want to spend my time railing against things, as it seems pointless.
I don’t pretend to know the answers for everyone, but I really do feel a great sense of faith and trust in my own life philosophy even when it gets a real shakeup.