It’s a thoughtful day in Iowa. Temps are dropping, possible flurries this evening, winds currently blowing through at 25-55mph. Dried corn leaves flowing by the window without bothering to slow down and take a peek or give a wave. Too busy trying to find a fence on which to grab for dear life.
Sometimes, in reading blogs here and across the web, one can feel the immense loneliness and solitude in people’s lives. People bleeding their lack of connection, their lack of warmth and abundance in their lives. Some blogs so clearly express the want for someone to affirm the author, to hold them, to take them in their feared smallness, hold their eyes, and let them know it will be okay. Some wounding is so profound, you offer a prayer for the ones whom triage has determined will bleed to death, and you turn away, moved and saddened, knowing there is nothing to do.
The bleeding is visible in blogs of all kinds. Even in humor, you can sometimes hear the voice of ‘see me!’ In politics, voices screaming ‘I am somebody!’
Some blogs you can feel Aesop’s fable of the lion and the mouse. If you remember the story, the lion, wounded and unable to address its bleeding and sore paw, nonetheless felt it necessary to hold the world at bay with it’s growling and threats, acting as if the only thing that was important was it’s trying to be larger than it was, stronger and more powerful than it was. And in the midst of its spewing of anger and fear…a mouse stood and offered support in the midst of the lion’s seperateness from the world. How willing are any of us to be that mouse?
And here we stand on our front porches, watching the world, the day, pass by, and wonder…what must we do to find these interesting people sitting at my table, enjoying my cooking…enjoying me?
In blogland, you can feel the sense we have in which we feel we must ‘be something’ in order to attract another to sit at our table. We must be funny. We must be smart. We must be sexy. We must be assertive or aggressive. We must be self-deprecating and confessional. In the drive we feel to be somebody (i.e., become somebody) of some form for another, you can feel the animal running down off the porch, grabbing another, and shouting “LOOK AT ME! SEE ME! ACKNOWLEDGE ME!”
In the motion to be somebody…we are running after others for their attention in some form. We believe ‘if only I…’ that people would give us more attention, more respect.
More love…
So we run and grab them to show them that we are that ‘if only.’ Blogland, by its very nature, is a motion almost demanding your attention. It is like an evangelist of most anything in which someone with microphones is trying to get you to affirm they are alright in their world by demanding your attention and hallelujahs to theirs.
But is the demand for attention what creates a space in which people feel drawn to the food of our table, the music of our hearts?
Remember the fable of the wind and the sun? The harder the wind blew, the tighter the person grabbed their coat, pulled down their hat and scurried on their way. Then the sun came out, the person dallied, took off their coat, and relaxed…
People want to share themselves. They want to be known and listened to. They want an opportunity to relax, be themselves, take off the coat of ‘be somebody’ and just sit in the warmth of the invitation that allows them to bring their favorite dish, and swap stories of their journey, that journey that brings them to ‘who they are.’.
We are our stories aren’t we? The accumulated whackiness of trying to navigate childhood, student-hood, young adulthood, parenthood and all the rest of the great roles life imposes on us? On quiet days, we often want to curl up with another, and let life wash through us, soft guitars playing…soft piano mewing…and simply breathe out our tension of the daily effort to ‘be somebody’ enough, in all these imposed roles.
But how do we issue invitations that aren’t obligations? ‘Well, you’re coming in aren’t you?’ How do we assist each other to recognize the door is open, the tea is on, and the soft chairs that rock await the other’s sighs, the other’s head bent back, eyes closed…letting life roll through, without people feeling like if they don't come in, then...they've done something wrong?
How do we share the stories of our lives, while making sure we first made room for the dish of the other, complimented them on their favorite flavors and smells they have brought to our table, and given them space to open the dialogue of laughter and sorrow?
I know I work all the time to increase the odds that another sees my door as open, smells the aromas of the breads and cookies and feels drawn to knock on the door after stopping in their car to grab their Green Bean Casserole and Rhubarb sauce. A knock, a greeting, a hug, handshake or kiss…and the sharing begins. Not always successful…but always, listening for how to make my door larger, and put a fan behind the scents to let others know…there is space for them.
We can’t stop every lion from growling and threatening. We can’t stop every wind from blowing harder and harder. But we can increase the warmth of our ‘homestead’ by laying down our fears that we aren’t enough, and by silencing the evangelist in us who wants to convince people we have the truth and the light. We can learn to sit on our porch without commenting on everything that blows by, and simply rock, wave and compliment the neighborhood in their daily journey to walk the rocky road of our lives.
And we can offer people passing by the warm smile of our surrender to life as it is...possibility.
In other words, we can smile, wave, and then, we can let go…
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| What Is The Invitation To Our Lives? |
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