A Better Way

Photo of Road During Daytime by Quang Nguyen Vinh on Pexels.com at https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-road-during-daytime-3872146/

I watch and observe what’s playing out these days in governments, politics and the media and I ask myself, “Isn’t there a better way?” Whether we’re in the era of gladiators, Civil War or pandemic, the scenarios are different but the human dilemma is the same. It’s the powerful versus the powerless. Each side digs in until they get enough support to overcome the other side and then, when they succeed, they proceed to reign over the rest but in a different way. It’s a never ending cycle.

Oh, we’ve evolved and improved life, as we know it, but we just can’t seem to get passed this power play. I wonder what it will take . . . are we experiencing that right now, the birth of a better way, in this pandemic where it doesn’t have a preference nor takes sides?

“The Real You” by Alan Watts

There were many power plays I observed growing up and noted briefly in my last post, “Imperfection”, when I said my parents were from the North and South. That’s a reference to the Civil War era where places in the U.S. will always hold onto their ancestors’ deference of pride and belief.

In the South, on summer vacations as a young child, I witnessed anger and hate between my grandfather and his black neighbor and the heated exchanges they had with each other. The police came to cool things down but the anger remained and I wondered how it began. It’s been more than a century since we had slavery in this country, that resulted in a Civil War, and the lack of understanding and respect on both sides still causes conflicts.

The human dilemma . . . and how far back does it go? I suppose it’s been there since the beginning of time and we’ve all taken turns on one side or the other, either being the one to hurt and apply force or the other who is beaten down and wounded.

My grandmother, as years passed, grew weary of the feud and cut down the story-tall hedge along the driveway that separated their homes. I don’t know if that was the beginning of change or not – time has a way of revealing truth and the handling of past events. On the day of my grandmother’s funeral, my sister and I were walking up to the funeral home when we saw an elderly black man with a straw hat coming out. We recognized him as their neighbor long ago. He gestured as he paused to acknowledge his condolences and we noticed a tear on his cheek.

Growing up in the North, south of Philly in blue-collar family suburbs, the culture was different than the South. Struggles were not as much focused between colors of skin as it was with money and power between the “haves” and “have-nots”. My family was no different in that I observed those struggles with my parents in their community and their neighbors. In what I can remember, gathered from stories I’ve heard, our little community was built by a somewhat rich developer. Even the name of our street we lived on was named after him, “Love”. He had influence in the community and politics where even some regulations became law from his recommendations.

They didn’t have property management companies in those days but fines were enforced if certain laws were not abided by. My dad grumbled at having to cut his grass, as his pie-shaped lot was larger than most because it was on a curve. Likewise, he grumbled at having to shovel the sidewalk, again twice as long as others. And, if he didn’t comply in a set amount of time he was threatened with a fine.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to keep his home kept up and safe for the neighborhood. It was how those in power flexed their muscles and enjoyed it. Many of times I heard him complain . . . “old man Love is at it again” . . . or “old man Love is making us do this now.” I don’t know whether any of that is true or not. I just remember the mutters every time we passed his big house on the hill when coming up out of our complex.

This is mild compared to the many union battles and displays of anger and hate between workers and owners. My father was a welder in the shipyards and spoke of the many disputes disgruntled workers were having with their employers either over wages or working conditions. In some places, it even came to violence. The scenarios are different now but the battles still linger on.

Is there a better way? Is it possible we could make a shift, while in the midst of a pandemic that doesn’t play favorites and economic losses that, if not already touched by it, seep out and eventually affect everyone? I’m hopeful we can draw on a source deep within us and learn a different way than how it’s been done . . . forever. Perhaps, it would look something like this.

Years ago, I came across this passage by Ram Dass in his book, “Still Here”:

“…when there is true surrender and service between people, the roles of helper and helped, and the boundaries between those in power and those who are powerless, begin to dissolve.”

These words have always stuck with me and I’ve wondered what true surrender and service would look like in my own heart. How do I truly surrender when I look to be validated and want my voice heard? And, what is true service look like aside from volunteering and giving of my time when it fits in my life.

I think Mother Teresa was the pure example of what true surrender and service looked like. She had a poem above her bed in her little ashram in Calcutta, India where she must have looked every day before stepping out on the street (similar to the 1968 publication by Dr. Kent M. Keith called the Paradoxical Commandments).  It goes like this:

The Final Analysis

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone may destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you’ve got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is all between you and God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

The Final Analysis” — Dr. Wayne Dyer

We’re living in unusual times. In my 70+ years, I don’t remember when we’ve had a disease spread across our country and the whole world not only taking lives but causing economic hardships for many. It’s something calling our attention, where we no longer have the luxury of sitting on the sidelines watching others go through it, but where it can potentially touch each one of us in some way or another. It gives me pause to look deeper within myself and seek direction on what part I have to play.

As I do, I can’t help but reflect on those great teachers that have left behind for us their nuggets of truth. At this time and space, there is opportunity to find a better way. Where we’re poised at a crossroads we’ve never seen before, I believe it’s possible. Do we listen and understand?

“It may be when we no longer know what we have to do, we have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey” ~~ Wendell Berry

Pat from the ‘ol kitchen table

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Acknowledgements: Photo of road during daytime by Quang more...

Imperfection

Roof and Bottle Photo - © ¬Jim Ruppel 8-26-2012
Roof and Bottle Photo – © ¬Jim Ruppel 8-26-2012

Hubby took this photo many years ago and it struck me as something seemingly out of place – imperfect, if you will. How did that beer bottle get lodged in the rubble of that old roof? There’s evidence that a human has been there and everywhere else you go, even on the moon.

I suppose we try to put things in order, align and match, as some illusionary effort of control. Nothing escapes these attempts and, yet, where’s the perfection? I have been trying to perfect me and the world my whole life only to manage to always come up short. Oddly, I have the innate ability to perfect what I’m working on, while completely ignoring everything else around me.

I’ll want to get my writing perfect, down to the last comma, while my piano reveals the dust of my signature. It’s selective and I know it, yet, not alone as I see a lot of it these days; especially in the midst of this pandemic, where we notice those imperfections of others not so easily noticed in us.

Life is just imperfect and, for me, I’m really seeing it in a profound way in giving up trying to fix things. There will always be injustices and, perhaps, the point is not to right the wrongs but to bring something better into the equation – maybe, the best of both sides.

I’ve recently considered possibly some of the battles I’ve had within myself are rooted in history with parents from the North and South. Even though the Civil War in the U.S has long been fought and is over, there will still remain distinctive beliefs supporting each side to the extent of rioting and killing. It’s gotten to extremes in demanding rights completing discounting the fact others may have rights, too. Why is it we try so hard to get others to believe our way? We think life would be so much easier if others would just do what we want them to do.

On the lighter side, it’s quite funny, when I think of it, in the many situations where my imperfections have showed up – in fact; it’s been like a spotlight augmenting the flaws. I think at this stage in my life I’ve learned to embrace it and love the quirkiness of it all. Hubby can tell you that for so long, having lived with me for over 53 years, between him and girls, I’m surprised the outcomes have turned out as good as they did.

It usually shows up when I’m not true to myself. I’ll try to do something like someone else or want to give a good impression. Or, when I don’t have the courage to follow my own instincts and instead follow along with everyone else. And, also it’s particularly revealing when I have something in mind that I want to do and don’t want to take the time to consider the consequences and think it through.

An early example is when hubby and I were first dating (and I don’t know why I’m sharing this). We were parked after a movie and talking before having to get home. It was dark and, in the stillness, the moment was perfect as hubby pulled me close to hold and kiss me. As he held me tight I felt the cup of my bra fold in but didn’t think much of it. A few moments afterwards – still in the moment and silence – there was a “pop” where my bra sprang back out. It was awkward and spontaneous and we both burst out laughing. I was glad it was dark and you couldn’t see how embarrassed I was but happy another date followed. Now, you can’t make that stuff up.

Another time was when I drove the girls down a back way off a mountain trail to empty their snails in a stream. That was probably not a good idea either. The hill coming back up was so steep I had a hard time getting any traction. Halfway up, I lost my momentum in the climb and slowed down long enough where the tires just started spinning. Every time I tried the car would shift sideways and wasn’t getting a grip. Because the hill was so steep and the car had gotten sideways so far it looked as if it could tip over. So, the girls bailed on the higher side and I managed to get out too. They ran back home and a neighbor graciously came to our rescue.

I suppose imperfections also show up in making bad choices. Maybe somewhere deep inside of us there’s a moment, when the results could be avoided if we took the time to listen. But, in our headstrong quest we boldly forge ahead. One such event like that happened in making a wrong choice. If I had paused long enough I probably would have done something differently.

Again, the girls were with me. They “enjoyed” these adventures with me and so enjoyed sharing them with their dad. We were downtown Denver, Colorado, in a ’77 Ford Van (orange – go Broncos). We came to the entrance of a parking garage, where a pole is suspended by chains to stop you long enough from entering to consider the height of your vehicle.

I stopped. I even think I got out to look and assess whether I had the clearance or not to proceed. I concluded that I did and continued on but didn’t consider the vent we had just installed on top of the van. I realized it was too late then and no going back after going under one of the main concrete beams . . . “shhhh”! It was “shhhh” all the way through the parking garage until we finally came out on the other side.

I’m making light attempting to interject some humor in the complexities of life and some of the difficult events we’re experiencing in these times. It gets hard when we insist on doing things the way we see it. We live in a world of right-wrong, up-down, in-out and the universe will be patient and allow us to go on beating the wind to justify our position and rights until we pause long enough to consider that’s the point. Eventually, in the challenging struggles and frustrations we’ll look for another way and there it will be.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.” ― Rumi

Life is serious and there’s a lot of heavy stuff happening that’s not to be taken lightly. But, we’re all in this ride together on this big beautiful world taking another trip around the sun. It could be so much better if we’d pulled together in finding a better way to solve these challenges and embrace the imperfections.

Pat from the ‘ol kitchen table