I am slowly learning the true meaning of “working through it.” I recently began reading a great book entitled “Lincoln & Whitman.” I find it so fascinating because you had two men that were so powerful for different reasons, however both found such joy in the use of words. Using your words, not your actions – if only more could find the ability to do so in these times. We have had men in the last 100 years like Barack Obama, Ghandi – however I keep hearing this phrase “your actions speak louder than your words,”
Mother Theresa did not always use her words, she got down into the gutter with her actions. Am I supposed to sit back and keep my thoughts to myself and/or keyboard? Or do I find joy in action? After spending just a few days with my family on the Eastern side of America, my eyes and heart know I have still have much to learn about life. I am learning about the amount of energy it takes to raise children, to start to envision the volume of energy (and money) it will take to care for my parents when they reach that critical age – and it may be just as much, if not more than children.
I am comforted by the truth of my sister, her wisdom and her strength. Teaching me that while we want a certain reality, the greatest amount of energy sometimes coming in just accepting what the true reality of life really is, be that your limitations or at some crude level “working with the hand you were dealt with.” As I get older, and hopefully more wise, I am learning to accept and at times need to laugh at certain facts. I was not born a Hilton, nor a towering NBA basketball player. I was not born with prodigy like math skills, nor the foresight to become a politician in order to make an impact on the world (though some would say that was a gift in of itself).
But I do recognize the gracious gifts I have brought to this world. I think, or I start to hope, that maybe if one is able to do this more on a regular basis there is a better ability to “get through it” –or just not “get through it” – accept those which we cannot control, but also to understand how to make the best times out of our gifts, and leverage those pieces of life’s puzzle for which we had hope to ….update.
I find myself going back to San Francisco with a different perspective – I always seem to when I leave it. My sister quietly asked me just after the big turkey and thankful thoughts were disclosed, “do you think moving from New York was the best move, was it the best move to go to San Francisco, California?” Maybe, maybe not. After six months I am still in a better place, no matter what, then I was feeling in New York. At times I do believe in blind faith. I many not understand the secret of life, the basis for which joy, sadness, hope and dreams come from – but I knew, in my heart and mind that there was an underlying frustration, ….a sense of “stuck” and not moving forward while I was in Manhattan. Day after day, not truly seeing the sky, having open eyes, not healing from whatever my past may have given me. For all the joy, fun, conveniences of New York City – it enabled my past to haunt me constantly. It caused me to not forget the victim role. Even the city itself had the dogma “Never Forget 9/11.” I think that was part of the problem, be that for tourism, or nostalgia – we as New Yorkers’ could never forget. And if you lived through it, to witness it, to watch, see, smell, ….hear the screams…you could never forget. It was not that I wanted to forget, but I needed to accept that I was no longer a victim, but an enabler of good energy, of hope and prosperity. I wanted to know that I could take that which I knew I had no influence, and make a difference.
Abraham Lincoln was not an abolitionist, but he knew that he hated slavery. That each man, should be able to raise up in the morning with his own free thoughts, not be a victim to anyone’s cause. Slave masters thought they were doing the slaves a favor: four walls, a roof, food – and all you had to do was work the land. But it was not on their terms, for their own reasons – it was prison. Now it is not to say I was a slave in New York, nor would I ever compare myself to a slave nor master. Context is everything. I can turn on any given news channel in any city or country and for whatever reason there is never any good news. Well of course there isn’t – as my sister so logically points out – good news doesn’t get ratings, bad news does. Bad news gives of conversation pieces, it allows us to dissect and make our own opinions of what we THINK might happen next or “what were they thinking!” It takes away our free will to move forward in life because we have become a prisoner to our past, and to the present we rely on for information.
One way or another truth has a weird way of finding itself in a dark room. Metaphors do not need to be used on a consistent basis, but what I do know is that as I travel back to San Francisco there is a odd peace that comes over me. While I am not at peace with certain facets of my life, I am with others. I am at peace with at least the fact that I am no longer a prisoner to my city or my thoughts. That the ability to have a clear mind, clear at least that my thoughts are on my terms, is possible. I could not find that in New York – LORD knows I tried. But I go back to Walt Whitman. He did, but in the New York City of the 1850s’, 1860’s and 70’s.
When I turn on a television now, if someone is not held hostage, they are getting bailed out to make the rest of us feel held hostage. I am not 100% sure if the Obama Administration of 2008-2012 is going to make the true impact this world needs, but I do know that this country did come out in numbers, on its own terms and chose. The ability to be free is the secret of life. If you have freedom, if you have inalienable right to chose for what is best for you – then you are no longer a victim, you no longer have the ability to lean on the crutch that would once block you. Life is found through our own freedom – and much like truth, it has a funny way of finding itself.
