It seems a number of Boo Tribbers have suggested to me during our get acquainted moments that they don’t feel they have done much of importance in their lives, or they
aren’t sure that they are of any real value.
When I ran across a much longer piece that I had written about such questions that seem to be an ever present part of the “Conventional Wisdom”, I thought I would share a part of it with you as my perspective.
It is all about C W O E. . .conventional wisdom on earth. Perhaps as you see a bit through my eyes you will see that really, you are much more valuable and important than you may think.
What is the measure of a Life?
C-Woe-isms are sprinkled liberally through every phase of our lives.
CWOE: Get into college, choose your major, study diligently, graduate and go to work. Four to five years and you’ve got it!
I can’t tell you how foolish an idea this was to me. There you are with that enormous banquet of classes on every imaginable subject and once you pick a major you are confined to such narrow exposure of subjects, limited to such a small area of study that it takes the heart out of it. I stepped into a wonderland of potentials and wanted to gorge myself on the all the amazing things laid out on that banquet table.
Music, Art, History, a plethora of Cultural Studies, Literature, Dance, Theater, Physics, Sports, Philosophy, Political Science, Biology, Psychology, Sociology, Languages, Law, Library Science, Architecture, Sports, Archeology. . .do you remember looking at that University class catalog? Why oh why would you not want to load up your plate with some of everything? I did. And I continue to. Once started on this path of discovery I could see that there would never be an end to it. How wonderful that there would never be an end to it!
CWOE: Really, you must choose what it is you want to be when you grow up.
Well, there are two things glaringly wrong with that one. What you want to be means choosing one thing over many other possibilities and grow up is just totally not something I would choose to do. I wanted to be EVERYTHING and I never wanted to lose that childlike wonder that fuels my interests in and curiosity of all things. When asked in my mid life who I was by someone who had a real interest in knowing, I responded: ” I am the student and the teacher. Being a teacher of course requires that you are ever the student.” Yes, that encompassed it very well.
CWOE: Teach what? That there is more to do and see and experience here in a lifetime than can ever be done. Of course, it has taken me a lifetime to get those pieces of paper that convey alphabet letters after my name. So certainly I have and am doing precisely what I intended to do.
CWOE: Well then, you certainly haven’t accomplished much during a whole lifetime, have you?
By what measure could I consider that CWOE? Have I had a fabulously successful career using my Bachelor of Science degree in Insatiable Curiosity? No, I have not. Did I at least find my way into a good career in business or industry? No, I did not. But, I found my way wherever I went and I tried an enormous variety of jobs, work and careers. There was too much to see and do and experience to worry about such a thing.
CWOE: Certainly we could not view you as being very successful.
Of course you couldn’t. But I do. I have done exactly what I have chosen to do. With all the wisdom of a 15 year old, and I don’t think we can underestimate the depth of the wisdom of that age, I wanted to be a writer. I knew that in order to write with authenticity I would need to experience life to the fullest degree I was willing to. I have done that.
CWOE views success in terms of money, possessions, status and respect of peers at a professional/societal level. You can count me out of that measure.
You know those heart warming stories considered to be so corny about people who have led purposeful lives in the shadow of more lauded, more noticed, more acceptable successful people? You guessed it. They are what it is really about. The poor black mother and father that raised 8 children who all now are PhD educated and teaching at Universities. That’s a measure of a life. The great auto mechanic that works out of his garage at home and coaches the neighborhood soccer team and has a quick smile and a joke to share with everyone. That is a measure of a life. The woman that has struggled, as most everyone does, to raise her children yet has that remarkable depth and love for everyone around her and shares it unquestioningly with all she meets, always with a smile, always with understanding and caring. That is a measure of a life.
The artist who paints and draws meaningful beauty to share with those of us who are not so abundantly talented, yet who was unable to ever make more than an average or less than average living at it. That is a measure of a life. The neighbor who visits the nursing home nearby every week to bring some warmth and the comfort of another human who truly cares to those who feel so abandoned. That is a measure of a life. A life lived with purpose is the ultimate success story. And the purpose may only appear to be that a life was lived exactly as it was chosen to be lived.
CWOE: No, you have to do or be something outstanding.
Yes, and we all do and are, each in our own way.
CWOE: Then you must have written and published many things of interest and importance?
Oh, there is no doubt that I have written a great deal, reams of paper have words that flowed through me and danced across the pages. Whether they are of interest and importance to anyone other than me is not something I know or even need to know. Published? Not yet and who knows, it may be not ever. Why could that possibly make much difference? Many words have been shared with many friends and strangers, friends of friends and friends of strangers. It continues to be up to them to find interest and importance if there is any.
CWOE: Then what’s the point. You will never be recognized or successful with that attitude.
I know. Isn’t it wonderful. What you don’t seem to get is that writing is who I am. It is about breathing words. It is not about looking for approval or some idea of succeeding. It has come to the place that the choice became me. I have become what I have chosen. To say that there is no purpose in writing if the goal is not to become published and recognized in the world does not begin to encompass what it truly is. I am the words and they are me. The words are the voice of my soul. They are shared where they are needed or welcomed. What is there beyond that?
What is the measure of a Life?
What is the measure of your Life? Perhaps a great deal more than you think. . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you don’t mind a break from Rove and Iraq and the seemingly endless crimes and rumors of our times. I know I could use one for a minute. Feel free to add your thoughts and comments about looking at things that are even more important to us. . .even for just a moment or two.
Ah, Shirl..we are indeed soul sistahs!
I have to say I did buy into the common societal definitions of success, for a portion of my life. (Money, titles,status, the “right address,” two cars, big house, all of it , and worked my behind off as a single mom to get them all. Unfortunately, I simultaneously managed to develop a raging addiction that nearly did me in by age 41 and also caused serious damage to my body along the way that tossed me out of the “success mainstream” smack into full disability and poverty when I was only 50!
Uh oh! There it went..all of my proof that I was a “success!” Those were some tough times at first. But slowly, I began to see some benefits, too. Like..getting up in the morning, and discovering there was no heavy yoke of “should do’s” and ” must-do’s” around my neck! Whoa! You mean…I get to do ..whatever I WANT to do, with this day?!”
After a lifetime of chasing “success” (as we tend to define it here,) it took me awhile to even remember what kinds of things I “wanted” to do. They’d all been left behind in favor “working hard to succeed” long ago.
But remember I did, and now I am “breathing my words” just like you are, out into the ethers, without needing to chase after the external validation of “publication” anymore.
I am totally in love with only owning possessions I truly love, and have discovered most of them actually do fit nicely into a small apartment after all. How much time I save not having to “take care of so much stuff!” Time that is mine now, for creating and experiencing and living.
My definition of success has changed totally. Now it means simply freedom to be who I am, and to choose how I spend my time and my energies.
To those who cannot see me anymore, because I am “one of them” now, (the elderly and disabled), well, so be it. There are where they are, just as I was once, and life will lead them to their learnings, jut as it’s leading me to mine.
It was a wonderful adventure finding this writing of yours this morning, and spending this time with you. Now I will head into my next moments, and see what wonders may be lurking there!
🙂 scribe
And don’t think I didn’t dance back and forth across that line at times during my years as well. But the only place I ever found real joy was when I was being who I am.
Yep, I knew we were sisters when you came telling us your story one of the nights of the influx of refugees. It just becomes moe clear all of the time.
Indeed, see the wonders lurking there.
“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of the dreams.” Willy Wonka quoting O’Shaughnessy
:)Thanks for the wonderful diary, Shirl!
Damnit Janet! We are the music makers and the dreamers of dreams.
Perfect Shirl – Just what I needed today. Thanks.
It makes me most happy that I may have added a little to your day.
Reading this first thing Monday morning gave me a lift when I most needed it! Some days it’s hard to hang onto the good things in my life, to keep them in the front of my attention. It’s easier to listen to the “practical” voice that tells me to give up on mucking about with words and paint and just get the second job at whatever retail place is hiring and call it a day.
Thanks for making me see again that narrowing my life, no matter if it puts a few bucks in my pocket, would starve my heart and soul. Sometimes I need to be reminded.
Oh, if I have added one small stick to that fire that burns within, then I have done even more than I had hoped for. Don’t ever starve the truth of the essence of you. Should you ever feel your cupboards are scant, give me a holler and I will share what I have with you.
Oh, Shirl. At first I thought I might be one of those people you were alluding to, and then I realized that, no, I am completely happy and satisfied with my life and with myself. Pffft!
I wish that I could always remember to measure my life by how many people love me rather than how much money I make. I have always discounted my contribution to the world because it’s something anyone with a uterus can do. I’m leaving terrific kids to the universe and that is no small thing. But I feel a tremendous sense that I am supposed to be doing something more and that leaves me feeling inadequate and frustrated.
I don’t think the world is putting this pressure on me. I think it’s something that comes from inside myself that continually tells me that I am not as good as others who have important jobs or amazing skills or who dress better than I do or have cooler things.
This is a beautiful diary and it speaks loudly to me. But it’s as if I’m stuck in a hole and I know all I have to do is climb the ladder but I can’t find the ladder anywhere. If what I see above me is beautiful and desirable it just makes it all the more frustrating to be stuck in the hole.
Flawed thinking? You bet.
It is perhaps a mistake to think there is only ONE thing that we will be good at or can accomplish. There are many things for different times of our lives. The divine discontent that you feel will reveal itself to you and you will know it by the joy it brings to your life.
And my dear Laura, any female with a uterus can bear children, but that does not make them a mother let alone a very good and loving mother as you are. Giving birth is only the beginning of a life time career that a true mother has.
Will I be the first to tell you that you are doing something more right now and in the past weeks, talking about your life, writing some very beautiful words, adding your views and ideas to this forum.
Also don’t discount motherhood, having spent nearly all of my life in that role I find it the absolute most satisfying part, all the outside stuff just kept me away from what I wanted most and that was my family..Thankfully I have come to a time and place where I can fully experience that.
Tell me what bigger job is there, than being a mother!!
Talk about creating!!!Women can create people! Ok so as I don’t forget, with a little help from a man, but we can grow them, men can’t.
Thanks, Diane. I love being a mother and I’m good at it, but if you do your job as a mother, pretty soon you put yourself out of work. Your kids move out on their own and start their own lives. I know many women look forward to that as a time to focus on themselves and their own interests or their career or their marriage. Not me. I’m just lost without it. Pathetic, I know. As I said, I am stuck.
Gee I am 62 and not out of a job yet, and then grandmothering goes on forever.
But it changes and the changes are welcome to me, I can be more me now and less Mom.
My daughter feels a lot like you do, so what she has done is work as a part time nanny, that way she always has babies and younger children to work with as hers get older. Her family and the nanny family have bonded as well and now celebrate holidays and birthdays with each other. so it has become her extended family.
I worked as a Nanny for a time as well and I can tell you that good nannies are sorely needed. Food for thought, Laura.
Laura, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that being a good mother is wonderful talent. But I also know that sometimes it’s nice to have other people acknowledge that and get outside confirmation of your value. Luckily, there are a lot of ways for you to do get this affirmation and you don’t have to make a career if you don’t want one — volunteers are among the most adored people in the universe. You mentioned before that you’ve worked with the developmentally disabled; I’m sure there are places where you could volunteer your time.
School love people like you to come volunteer. So do hospitals.
There are programs where you could be a mentor to a child who needs more attention.
Libraries are delighted to have people who will read to kids.
My mom-in-law volunteered at a community center after her retirement and was so good at it that they offered her a job.
You may be stuck but if you are, it’s in a wonderful place. A lot of us are probably quite jealous of you 🙂
I absolutely do need to expand my horizons beyond this keyboard. But it’s just so safe and so supportive here!…can you guys just follow me around for a little while, slapping me on the back and pushing me out the door?
I’m sure that there are many people here who would be glad to give you a shove (in the nicest way possible).
The thing about volunteering is that you don’t have to make a big commitment. Pick something relatively easy, let the people know that you’re not making a long term commitment and try it out.
When I was a teenager, I was all wrong.
Instead of planning my future, I was more concerned
with correcting the past. My mother was living in our
country place, my sister was getting pretty wild in the
city, and my brother was in a boarding school. I lived
in the city with 2 room-mates working and taking art courses.
My sole ambition was to bring my family together. I got
mother to come into the city and take a typing course.
She got a job right away. Then I walked the streets
with her until we found an apartment for the four of
us. My brother was the happiest one of all to have a
home. That meant the most to me.
Let me tell you, it was all a mistake. A new word I
learned recently is “boondoggle.” My ‘focus on the family’
was a “boondoggle.” I had been advised that it would
not work but I was so determined, with good intentions
and the idealism of a 17 year old.
Eventually with the resiliance of youth, without any
bitterness, I resumed my own life and I ended up doing
what I really wanted to do, have my own family and be
an artist.
Isn’t it grand you made the effort, isn’t it grand you came to see more than your desire for this was at play here, and isn’t it most grand that we have your talent to bring forth the beauty of your art. The world is blessed that you followed your talents and love.
impossible dream story. I never thought of it as grand.
But come to think of it, my brother and sister today
remember ‘the effort’ that you mention, more than the
‘boondoggle.’
Ah, the sweet bird of youth.
🙂
Ah, the sweet bird of youth.
It is a bird divinely plumed as it adds the feathers of wisdom.
I don’t believe that any sincere effort is truly a boondoogle.
In this case, I can assure you that if your mother and siblings were against your idea, they would never have participated in it. People won’t do the things you describe unless they see some value in it.
Secondly, you think it is a wasted effort now, and maybe it wasn’t the success you hoped for. But, what if you hadn’t made that effort. What if you were looking at your family now and thinking, if only we had all lived together, if only I had done, if only we had tried….
It may be a lukewarm comfort to say you tried. But it would be a cold comfort to say there was nothing you could have tried.
You are right. It was one of those ‘almost’ accomplishments that people often have.
Every summer I visit a small island in the Finnish archipelago. It has been virtually unchanged for 14,000 years. It is about 10 acres of pink and grey granite wallowing immovable in the Baltic like a herd of dead elephants. Trees clutch onto life there. Seabirds swoop and paddle and squawk.
I have the same experience every summer.
It’s often at 3am. The sun is coming up again. There are no sounds but the sounds of nature.
And in that moment I realise my total insignificance in this 14,000 years. Hardly a heartbeat.
But at the same time being there, being part of it, is the most reassuring moment I know. I don’t feel especially happy – more completely contented.
The experience can last a few minutes or a few hours. But I know the value of it all year round.
You know, my lovely Sven, your beautiful comment and the others show me I am in the company of wonderful writers and truly loving souls. . .So, Gertrude Stein, Hemmingway, Ftizgerald, Picaso, . . .the lot of you. . .don’t think you were the only ones to hang out in a favorite cafe and pub and share ideas and thoughts. What are the banks of the Seine compared to the shores of the Frog Pond?
(And I know the feeling well you so aptly describe above. Thanks for sharing your beautiful self with us)
Sven,
you bring back memories of the Sierra Nevada’s, that I love so much. How I miss those wonderful mountains that divide California and oversee the Great Central Valley.
I have spent many wonderful days hiking through the Sierra Nevada range and there is one place that has always stood out for me in those hikes.
It is a trail that goes into the Yosemite Valley from the east side of the Sierra’s. As I progressed that first hike into Yosemite, I crested a ridge that later I found out was around 10K in elevation and before me was the Eastern portion of Yosemite. Tolumne Meadow stretched out before me, the Tolumne river winding through it, disappearing into the horizon. I could see the back side of Half Dome on the southwestern horizon. I knew that I was witnessing what few others have ever seen.
I camped there that night and watched the sun come up, illuminating the eastern valley as it rose, its light shimmering over the dark blue of Mono lake more than 18 miles away. At that moment, I recognized the measure of myself as a man and a human being. I saw that indeed I was worthy, regardless of economic success, or how much stuff I could accumulate. I was shown in that moment that I indeed was a part of Great Spirit and when the sun hit me, I was moved with an exhiliration of being that brought tears to my eyes.
I had sought that feeling all my life, using chemicals to try to achieve it. In that brief moment, the sun rising, the valley lighting up, the mountains catching the rising suns glare, I knew that everything I had ever done, brought me to that place at that very time, to experience the profound knowledge that I am worthy of this life.
I spent the day and that night in reflective meditation, watched as a T storm washed over the mountains and prayed to Great Spirit in thanks for the intense joy I have come to know in living a life that I almost denied myself.
Thank you shirl for opening this door, you seem to have the keys to many of the wonderful doors that help us all become better human beings.
fabulous Yosemite and Eastern Sierra photographs by Dan Mitchell. All his works are copyrighted so I just posted this link for your enjoyment.
http://outside.danmitchell.org/photography/yosemite
now I am trying to learn linking
Eastern Sierra
Inspiring pictures, Ghost – thanks!
“I knew that everything I had ever done, brought me to that place at that very time
I’m a believer too in that true beauty and rightness can only be fully experienced and appreciated if you have also known ugliness.
Those who have always been free, will never fully understand the meaning of freedom.
A BBC news item reports new research into stress relief
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/4695711.stm
I can add a scientific fact – churning water releases negative ions which make you feel chipper! Positive ions are the ones that make you feel tired – most electronic equipment emits negatives.
In some stock exchanges (much electronics) they use a cactus called Cereus Peruvaneus as it uniquely absorbs positive ions.
Thanks ghostdancer, for the reminder of my own trips through the Sierra Nevadas.
There is a spot just a mile up the road from me where the Snake River is spanned by two bridges. . .why it is called twin bridges. . .and it has some lush and lovely areas where you can sit in the midst of trees and bushes close to the rivers edge, a very magical place of quiet and allows for much refreshing of the soul. Just listening and hearing the water rushing and the wind in the trees seems to take you somewhere special. Often there are Hawks and eagles gliding overhead. Just something so perfect and at one with the earth mother.
Thanks for being a part of my journey.
From: “Two Tramps in Mud Time” by Robert Frost
But yield who will to their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future’s sakes.
I think it could be most truly that you and I are pieces of the same star. . . You are always quoting my favorite poets and poems. . .thanks for a “shinning connection”
On a quiet morning at sunrise, a person stands at the edge of the still water wondering if the decisions they have made in life were wise.
There is no movement, nor sound, and the air is as still as the sadness in their mind. Then a wisp of wind comes gently sweeping across the water moving in chaos to it’s own design.
With this wind it brings, the smells of the fertile earth, the blossoming flowers, the sweet crisp aroma of the morning dew, and songs of the birds that sing.
Creating diamonds on the still water and a dancing light that scatters into otherwise shadowed spaces, and smiles placed on sad faces.
From the light in your soul that shines, you truly are, a “Diamond on the Water”.
Many Thanks, for your contributions are Imeasureable
Mr Pig. . .that would be from one such soul to another.
Such beautiful writing of words from the soul. My great honor and pleasure to wrap them around me and botton them to my heart. I will just have to keep the kleenex box closer to the computer.
then let them be tears of joy, for it is a true joy to see the light of the soul’s ; )
they are indeed that, tears of joy and recognition of soul so like my own.
When I became disabled 6 years ago (autoimmune endocrinological disease) I feared my life was over. I was 29 and I was just about to start my senior year in college. I’d survived a terribly abusive childhood, been on my own since I was 16, and had worked so hard for years to get to college. Getting a college education had been one of the only things I’d really wanted to do since I was old enough to know what college was. And I’d enjoyed my time there, mostly, taking a wide range of liberal arts courses on subjects that interested me, maintaining a nearly effortless 4.0 gpa, sitting up all night in bars downtown drinking good beer with other philosophy students while we talked sense and nonsense. The plan was to graduate with a major in history, double minor in women’s studies and philosophy, then go on to get a master’s in education, possibly a phd, and teach. Maybe write some books.
Then, out of the blue, walking in a downtown park with a friend one day, I couldn’t get up a small hill. I mean, I could not get up that hill if my life depended on it. My legs hurt and went weak, I was bent over heaving for breath, then I was on the ground, it was awful. My friend, looking concerned, asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were asthmatic?” “Not asthmatic,” I managed to get out. I didn’t know what it was.
It rapidly got worse. Within 8 weeks I could barely walk at all, I’d lost 20% of my body weight, and I had a plethora of other disturbing symptoms, mostly neurological in nature. Previously very athletic with preternaturally strong legs, I found myself needing a cane to walk, sometimes needing a wheelchair to get any further than about 20 yards. The next year was spent enduring all kinds of medical tests, specialists, and hospitalizations, misdiagnoses (one of those particularly scary), lack of proper diagnosis, fighting for insurance coverage, losing, realizing that on SSDI I’d not have insurance for 2 more years. So terrifying. Meanwhile, in the background, the country was stolen by a band of maniacs.
But as time continued to pass, and as I spent more of it quietly reflecting on everything and realizing the pointless misery of worrying, a funny thing happened. I re-connected to myself in a way that I hadn’t known since I was 3 or 4 years old. I gave myself permission to do whatever I could manage to do through the illness, so if I wanted to color in coloring books on the floor, that’s what I did. And I grew calm. Peaceful. I stopped valuing myself or anyone else based on that set of externalities crafted and defined by ‘society’. Don’t have a career? Fine by me. Don’t have lots of money? Don’t care. Who I am–and who you are–became the only truly interesting thing to me again.
And I wouldn’t change any of it for anything.
There is nothing more I can add to your words. They are beautiful, touching, heartbreaking and triumphant. The wisdom of the ages resides in a beautiful and resiliant heart.
May I lie on the floor and color with you sometime?
Any time, baby. I also have a huge plastic tub full of assorted Legos and an electric train set. 🙂
WOW!!
Legos and a train set??? WOW !!
God. I feel like such a weenie after reading this. I wish I had one ounce the strength and serenity that you must possess in your little finger.
Oh wow, please don’t feel like that! I’m quite sure you have all the strength and serenity you need, even if you’ve managed to hide it from yourself.
My point in writing that post was just to share with people something about my own journey, and perhaps to share the possibility of a certain kind of inner peace even though great difficulty. But believe me, I have my days where I’m still stuck in unpleasant modes of being and I’m no guru, so I wind up acting like kind of an ass. I just try to make the best of things as often as possible.
Buildings and bridges
are made to bend in the wind
to withstand the world,
that’s what it takes
All that steel and stone
is no match for the air, my friend
what doesn’t bend breaks
what doesn’t bend breaks
we are made to bleed
and scab and heal and bleed again
and turn every scar into a joke
we are made to fight
and fuck and talk and fight again
and sit around and laugh until we choke
sit around and laugh until we choke
I don’t know who you were expecting
probably some bitch who does not budge
with eyes the size of snow
I may get pissed off sometimes
but you seem like the type to hold a grudge
and in the end, I just let go…
–Ani DiFranco, Buildings & Bridges
one of my favourite artists.
JBM is an art critic who is also a great writer, a Southern gentelman.
He goes on to say that AM’s paintings taught nothing, they were “ideal in the mind” instances of praise and the joy that leads us on.
a wonderful diary and wonderful comments!
the diary , the comments, are humbling, amazing, and enlightening, it is truly an honor to have been a witness of true human spirit, thanks to all.
that men especially do not mature until they are about 35 (just in time for that mid-life crisis!) But in truth, I refuse to grow up. I am still asking myself (age 64 now) who do I want to be when I do and still thinking I am not anywhere near ready to answer that.
I did, however, have some kind of epiphany about my own reasons for being here. One of them seems to be just to observe. I don’t have to do anything about my observations. I can appreciate or get angry about the things I observe, it doesn’t really matter. Just observing is the important thing. And I realize that all of us have this requirement in our lives. And we are forced, because of the main nosiness of just being human, to be observers. And I think that a creator might want to gather all of our observations and farm them out to some wannabe authors and give them plots and characters and devices and sub-plots if nothing else. But mainly for His/Her/Its own curiosity and joy and anger and surprise.
Your observations seem to have brought forth stunning clarity. I love your style, woman.
Namaste`
It is a topic we might need to explore once a quarter.
Great diary, shirl, and the most essential of questions.
Like all good questions, this one has no answer.
Except maybe “to be kind.”
Hey,DMC. . . haven’t seen you for a while. So glad you stopped by. Someone wise once told me All the answers are within, indeed ALL is within.
I certainly don’t have many answers, but I do seem to be getting better at the questions.
And “kind” is a path that goes a long way in many directions.
I’m here every day. It’s a comfortable place.
I just haven’t posted much in the way of comments and my daily diary.
But I look and read and think.