December 2012

I started writing this post early last week. Then I got a stomach bug and spent the day in bed. The next day I moved my grandmother from a nursing home in Norwalk (about 90 minutes from where I live) to one much closer to me. I was distracted by other things, and then…it was Friday afternoon.

I thought more and more about the subject of this post and whether or not it was appropriate and/or relevant.

I came across a story that may or may not be true, but I want to share it anyway. The story goes that there’s an African tribe that has a unique way of handling those who do something hurtful or wrong. When a member of the tribe does wrong, they take him to the center of town, and the entire tribe comes and surrounds him. Then they tell him every good thing he has ever done.

Apparently this tribe believes that every human being comes into the world as GOOD, each of us desiring safety, love, peace, happiness. But sometimes in the pursuit of those things, people make mistakes. The community sees these misdeeds as a cry for help. So they band together for the sake of their fellow man,  to hold him up, to reconnect him with his true nature, to remind him of who he really is, until he fully remembers the truth from which he’d temporarily been disconnected: “I AM GOOD.”

My original intention with this post was simply to remind myself and my readers that we are, indeed, good.

I also wanted to ponder, “what if?”

What if, when our friends or family hurt us, instead of lashing back, we instead reminded them (and ourselves) of all the good things they’ve done?

What if, when our children acted up and broke a household rule, instead of (or maybe in addition to) a “punishment,” we reminded them of all the ways in which they are good?

What if, when someone broke the law in a minor way, instead of (or maybe in addition to) giving them a ticket, we reminded them that they are good?

Might we catch them sooner, when their offenses are relatively minor, and there’s still plenty of goodness left?

I know…I know. I have been told many times that these kind of thoughts are too simple, too child-like, too naive, too rose-colored-glasses. These ideas can’t touch the complex reality of guns and violence and mental illness and those who are too far gone.

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Perhaps it is too late for one.

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{In memory of those dear children and teachers who lost their lives, I want to share the way Newtown brought me joy (and still does, when I visit), with thanks to Maia Toll, who reached out to me asking if I’d participate in her joy celebration.}

I moved to Newtown at the very end of my 4th grade year and was graduated from Newtown High School in 1980, which was the last time I called it home. Back then, and still now, even though it has changed and grown with the times, Newtown is and was everything said about it yesterday: bucolic, quintessential New England, close-knit. The Newtown that I remember, the Newtown that brings me joy, is especially reflected in this photo. This is the one that brings me home, every time.

 

Note: The title of this post has a melody that goes with it. It was the start of the “Fight Song” that would play during school assemblies, athletic games, and so on. At least it was back in the 70s. For some reason it’s one of the first things I thought of yesterday when I heard the news. And even though it was usually sung vigorously, in my mind I heard it sung softly and slowly in children’s voices, like the opening verses of a gentle hymn.

For Newtown, for Newtown, fight on to victory!
For Newtown, for Newtown, steady and strong are we!
Our Indians will fight ’cause they’re brave and bold
So stand up and cheer for the blue and gold!
For Newtown, for Newtown, fight on to victory!

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The fabulous Mrs. Fatass had a thought-provoking post a while back about being defensive and at the end she said, “That one-word description – defensive – is something I work to improve all the time. What’s your one word?”

In response, I wrote: “Resistance. Hands-down. Which, I suppose, is a form of defensiveness (or vice versa).”

I’ve written quite a bit about resistance in my life and about my epiphany that acceptance, which I strive for, is actually the opposite of resistance, which seems to be my default setting.

How do I resist? Let me count the ways…

What I seem to resist the most is just being my own damn self. So thank God for that awareness, because now I can catch myself in the act. And then I remind myself of all the things I am continually learning.

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If we are NOT okay with ourselves, then we live for praise from others and we are crushed by criticism. When we ARE okay with ourselves, the praise is great, but we don’t live for it, and the criticism, while it might sting, does not destroy us. We are able to move on still knowing that at our core, we are okay. ~ ??

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Here’s a good example of me catching myself in a moment of not-okay-ness. One day several months ago I was looking at my Amazon.com page and noticed that my book had another review. Then I saw that it was a one-star review. I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. I scrolled down and read it. Within the space of several seconds my thoughts/emotions went from:

Crushed and embarrassed. I KNEW IT! I AM A TOTAL FAILURE!

to

Angry and defensive! BITCH! Why doesn’t SHE write a book and put herself out there and see how it feels!

to

Defensive and contrite? FINE! I’ll refund her money if she hates it that much.

to

Realistic. Well, not everyone is going to like my book…and that’s okay. In fact, she makes some good points.

And then I was okay.

Now, if this had happened a couple of years ago, my first reaction would have been to call my husband, my sister, my best friend, and cry and vent and worry. I would have wanted them to rebut this review, to come to my defense and flame the one-star reviewer. I would have felt the need to explain and defend.

In fact, I didn’t tell anyone about it for a very long while, and when I finally did, it was to illustrate my growth, not to seek out approval. Yay me. And thank you so very much, One-Star Reviewer. Sincerely.

How do you react to criticism? Are you able to both receive it and be okay at the same time?

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Note: the title of this post is based on one written by Jen of Making Messes entitled Sitting In The Backseat, which referenced lyrics from a song by Arcade Fire.

I like the peace

In the backseat

I don’t have to drive

I don’t have to speak

I can watch the countryside

And I can fall asleep

I spent a LOT of years in the back seat. For some of those years I sat there contentedly unaware that I was even in the back seat. But mostly I sat there, feeling guilty for doing so, but also afraid to get out.

It is sometimes embarrassing to admit that it has taken me longer than I think it should to “grow up” and “be responsible,” at least in the way I used to define those things.

For so long the idea of “taking responsibility” and caring for myself in any meaningful way had the power to bring me to my knees in fear. Now what I understand is that it isn’t the actual act of taking responsibility, it’s what I made it mean, that scared me.

It was the “should” that was the source of my fear.

I thought that my life (body, career, finances, family…) should look different than it was, and so I felt uneasy, unhappy, desperate, and perhaps most significantly, unsafe. And when I felt that way, I tended to act in self-destructive ways, and so my life (body, career, finances, family…) continued to look different than I thought it should.

Now I understand that sitting in the front seat and taking responsibility does not mean contorting myself to fit any “should” (my own or someone else’s), it simply means that I am able to respond (if I so choose) from a place of “can” rather than “should.”

It certainly feels better to have made this distinction, and when I feel better, I do better. It’s as simple as that.

What does it mean to you to take responsibility?

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