Letting Go

Thanks to Daisy for the following excerpt from "The Language of Letting Go" by Melody Beattie. I hope it is helpful to readers who are struggling with how to deal with their loved ones.

Picture a bridge. On one side of the bridge it is cold and dark. We stood there with others . . . doubled over in pain. Some of us developed an eating disorder to cope with the pain. Some drank; some used other drugs. Some of us lost control of our sexual behavior. Some of us obsessively focused on addicted people's pain to distract us from our own . . .   

We did not know there was a bridge. We thought we were trapped on a cliff. Then, some of us got lucky . . 

We saw the bridge. People told us what was on the other side: warmth, light, and healing from our pain. We could barely glimpse or imagine this, but we decided to start the trek across the bridge anyway,

Photo by John Mueller

We tried to convince the people around us on the cliff that there was a bridge to a better place, but they wouldn’t listen. They couldn’t see it . . . they were not ready for the journey. We decided to go alone, because we believed, and because people on the other side were cheering us onward. The closer we got to the other side, the more we could see, and feel, that what we had been promised was real. There was light, warmth, healing, and love. The other side was a better place.  

But now there is a bridge between us and those on the other side. Sometimes, we may be tempted to go back and drag them over with us, but it cannot be done. No one can be dragged or forced across the bridge. Each person must go at his or her own choice, when the time is right. Some will come; some will stay on the other side. The choice is not ours.  

We can love them. We can wave to them. We can holler back and forth. We can cheer them on, as others have cheered and encouraged us. But we cannot make them come over with us. If our time has come to cross the bridge, or if we have already crossed and are standing in the light and warmth, we do not have to feel guilty. It is where we were meant to be. We do not have to go back to the dark cliff because another’s time has not yet come.The best thing we can do is stay in the light, because it reassures others that there is a better place. And if others ever do decide to cross the bridge, we will be there to cheer them on. 

Today, I will move forward with my life, despite what others are doing or not doing. I will know it is my right to cross the bridge to a better life, even if I must leave others behind to do that. I will not feel guilty, I will not feel ashamed. I know that where I am now is a better place and where I’m meant to be.  

What about you? How do you let go?

Do You Travel?

When I graduated from college, I took my first trip to Europe with a borrowed backpack, a Rick Steves' guidebook, and a head full of poetry. That trip changed my life, and I returned with a very different view of myself, my country, the world, and my future.

Listening to Rick Steves in this interview, I wondered if people who love travel are unlikely to remain in Laestadianism. What about you?

What role has travel played in your life?

Open Thread

Have any questions you'd like answered, or topics you want to discuss? Please fire away!

To start things off, here's a question from a reader:

I was wondering if anyone has any idea what the reasons were for the split in the OALC church in Minneapolis in the early 70s. 

What We Choose to Emphasize

This came across my Facebook page yesterday, shared by several friends.

I thought it worth posting here.

"To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. 

What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. 

If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places--and there are so many--where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future.  

The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory."

-- Howard Zinn

The Limits of Labels

"She's a narcissist."
"He's totally ADD."
"I'm depressed."
"You're OCD."

We all do it, but when it comes to armchair diagnosing, proceed with caution. This is a helpful article explaining why.

As a parent, I have to consciously fight the urge to "explain" my kids as shy, outgoing, hyper, or whatever, when trying to analyze the cause of some action or mood. Labels limit and inhibit, because we tend to seek evidence that fits, ignore evidence that doesn't (confirmation bias) and act in ways that make the labels self-fulfilling. I know that labels can reduce them, in my mind and more dangerously in theirs.

When our kids diagnose themselves, e.g., "I'm no good at math," instead of simply commiserating, I try to remind them how well they learn when they apply themselves. This doesn't come naturally, but after reading the book Mindset by Carol Dweck, I am persuaded that kids who are told the truth, that their brains are constantly evolving and capable of growth, do better and feel better.

"In a fixed mindset, people believe their basic qualities, like their intelligence or talent, are simply fixed traits . . . In a growth mindset, people believe that their most basic abilities can be developed through dedication and hard work—brains and talent are just the starting point. This view creates a love of learning and a resilience that is essential for great accomplishment."

If only this was common knowledge when I was young! As a Laestadian in a public school, I was labeled as a loner and a snob (and no doubt much worse); after all, I didn't hang out, or go to football games or parties. My teachers, grateful to have a compliant student who turned in her work, a pleaser, pegged me as smart. The bar was very low. Because I could win friends by drawing sketches, I got a reputation as an artist. My mother, adapted to a life of cooking, cleaning, and sewing (not disappearing with a book or drawing pad) warned me that I was lazy and not good marriage material. When I questioned the teachings of the church, my father called me disobedient, proud, and self-righteous. Each of these labels I absorbed, as children do, and also questioned, but they all bit me on the butt in different ways, limiting my perceptions of who I was and what I could do, and whether I was lovable.

But the most insidious label was the one I gave myself, without quite realizing it: victim. That one is a soul killer, and I'm glad that it has been replaced in recovery literature by survivor, but the truth is that whatever we say to ourselves about our past, if our self-perception stays rooted there, in circumstances that were out of our control, we are stuck. We are passive, reactive, the audience rather than the creators of our lives.

Infinitely better than surviving is thriving. This chart describes the difference, and while simplified, I think the comparisons may resonate for you as it did for me (you may even recognize voices from this blog over the years). But -- as with everything -- eat the chicken and leave the bones. Take what helps, toss the rest.

Walt Whitman, that wonderful courage-giver, wrote: "Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes."

That is where I am now, accepting myself as a infinitely complex and always evolving. I am sometimes a loner, snobbish, smart, artistic, lazy, not good marriage material, disobedient, proud, self-righteous, and a victim. I am also gregarious, unassuming, dumb, unoriginal, productive, a decent spouse, servile, humble, and an instigator. There is truth in all of these labels, but the larger truth is that they don't define me. I want to offer that same grace to others, especially those in my past, who are so easy to label and so difficult to understand. I'm trying.

What labels have helped or hindered you?