Send Love

"But I do want you to know that your actions have an impact on others."

That's in quotes because it's from a message someone wrote to me recently. It was a necessary reminder, because in the midst of months of constant anxiety I'd lost track of it. I like to think I'm reflective and self-aware, but with the worry of isolation and social distancing and the distorted view of social media feeds I've gotten so turned inward that I've lost track of my connections to others. I've been so focused on how others have an impact on me that I've forgotten that I have an impact on them. And I've sent some angry and unproductive messages.

One of the earlier responses I gave in dealing with the fallout:

This week I've been confronted with the fact that I'm not as insignificant as I assume, and it's kind of freaking me out. I never really think about it, but I guess I operate from the framework that people rarely notice me, and when they do they usually dismiss me. I don't imagine they ever think about me when I'm not present, or give what I say much weight. That's why it's so easy for me to be flippant. I unconsciously assume I'm just another bit of content in their feed that they scroll past and forget about. So to find out I have impact comes as a surprise. I'm not quite sure what to do with that information.

It wasn't a true surprise, of course, just felt that way because I'd forgotten. And I've been working on remembering and fully accepting it. A later message:

A week of tumult and a weekend of reflection, and I’ve come to the conclusion that feeling helpless in the face of so much lately has led me to slide into a victim mentality where I’ve been doing a lot of whining instead of finding ways to be productive, useful, and positive. I’m now working on doing better.

And still working on it.

It's easy to feel helpless in the face of circumstances, these large events beyond my control and so much unknown. We're weeks away from the start of school, for instance, and we still don't know if school will be starting. As the spread of the virus has continued to expand, no one has been able to decide if it's safe for students to gather in buildings. Which is the bigger threat: risking exposure and spread or doing remote learning from home with parents unavailable due to work? My wife and I still have no idea how we're going to juggle jobs and kids if they're home this year, even though we agree it's safest. Oh, and, in an escalation of the response to the racial injustice and police brutality demonstrations, the president has started sending out unmarked federal forces to combat protesters and to maintain his version of "law and order." For example. It seems the world is out of control and we're powerless to do anything about it.

Except--and I know it's been said before and can feel trite--we have power over how we react and respond. I do, I have that power. I don't have to be a victim, and I can still choose what to do with my little part of the situation.

And I've decided the heart of my strategy for dealing with everything is to try to remember to always do this: send love.

It's something I've said countless times before, and it's something I've forgotten even more times. It's simple to the point of seeming nothing, yet it can be everything. It seems easy on its face, but can be the hardest thing in the world to put into action.

Send love.

Lots of related thoughts (plus random, unrelated bits) follow.

From my Facebook feed:

Stop. Unclench your jaw. Soften your forehead. Relax your shoulders. Breathe.

So necessary. So helpful. Constantly.

A couple of good reminders from the Myers-Briggs. I've written before, I find it absolutely revealing and helpful for self-knowledge. Every INTJ description I read resonates and feels like a true reflection of who I am; I don't feel like I'm reading about a type so much as I'm reading about myself. From Mirror, Mirror:

When in a state of stress, the INTJ can feel an immense amount of pressure – as if everything is on the line. To an INTJ, this often means the ability to produce something significant is somehow stifled. They may find themselves overwhelmed, and thinking about ideas and options that don’t have a productive end. As stress increases, the INTJ can become argumentative and disagreeable. Social interaction becomes increasingly difficult; and they may become preoccupied with obsessive ideas and plans. They may start to spend a massive amount of time fighting horrible thoughts, and feelings of worthlessness. They will ruminate about their mistakes, inadequacies and weaknesses, and stop progress on a project for fear of failure. In a case of chronic stress, the INTJ may fall into the grip of their inferior function; extraverted sensing. When this happens, they may give into self-destructive indulgences, like over-eating, over-exercising, alcoholism, or buying lots of useless items. They may obsessively clean or re-organize files.

I've also written about self-loathing. Feeling worthless. Not thinking highly enough of yourself to realize others might. It has me thinking again about a favorite book, Last Night I Sang to the Monster by Benjamin Alire Saenz. I've mentioned it before a number of times. The protagonist is in rehab and despises himself. He's surrounded by people in the same state, and a big part of their treatment is learning how to love themselves. I remember reading it and being struck by a scene in which Zach's self-hate is expressed by his inability to look at himself in the mirror and thinking, I don't like mirrors either; what does that say about me?

I've lived a pretty good life.  Yet something instinctive in me understands these characters.  It's something present in the people I can relate to, all of my close friends, that deep anxiety and insecurity and struggle to feel self-worth.  When I'm getting to know someone who doesn't appear to feel it, I am left with a sense that the person is shallow, less interesting, and not someone I can really identify with. And it's a theme that pops up regularly on this blog.

I was also struck recently by a memory. When I was a young teen deep into fantasy stories and games, wishing desperately I could be part of them, I never wanted to be the king on the throne. I dreamed of being the wizard sitting behind him in the shadows, advising his decisions.

Don't see me.

Of course, being absorbed with not appreciating yourself keeps one from seeing or appreciating others.

Also from a Myers-Briggs description:

Personal relationships, particularly romantic ones, can be the INTJ's Achilles heel. While they are capable of caring deeply for others (usually a select few), and are willing to spend a great deal of time and effort on a relationship, the knowledge and self-confidence that make them so successful in other areas can suddenly abandon or mislead them in interpersonal situations.

This happens in part because many INTJs do not readily grasp the social rituals; for instance, they tend to have little patience and less understanding of such things as small talk and flirtation (which most types consider half the fun of a relationship). To complicate matters, INTJs are usually extremely private people, and can often be naturally impassive as well, which makes them easy to misread and misunderstand. Perhaps the most fundamental problem, however, is that INTJs really want people to make sense. :-) This sometimes results in a peculiar naivete', paralleling that of many Fs -- only instead of expecting inexhaustible affection and empathy from a romantic relationship, the INTJ will expect inexhaustible reasonability and directness. 

The deep desire for people to make sense in a time of mounting frustration with nothing making sense. Take that dynamic, the one above, and the constant stress of current circumstances and stir, and I ended up getting myself in trouble.

So

Now, that work on doing better.

It's probably not the best place to start with Pema Chödrön, and I clearly don't have enough background information to make sense of everything in it, but it was her title I could get quickest from my library as an eBook to my phone after I decided reading some of her thoughts might help me: The Compassion Book: Teachings for Awakening the Heart. I've done an initial reading and picked out the following to start working on:

This is instruction for a meditation practice called tonglen. In this practice you send out happiness to others and you take in any suffering that others feel. You take in with a sense of openness and compassion and you send out in the same spirit. People need help, and with this practice we extend ourselves to them.

Whatever pain you feel, take it in, wishing for all beings to be free of it. Whatever pleasure you feel, send it out to others. In this way, our personal problems and delights become a stepping-stone for understanding the suffering and happiness of all beings.

This is advice on how to work with your fellow beings. Everyone is looking for someone to blame and therefore aggression and neurosis keep expanding. Instead, pause and look at what's happening with you. When you hold on so tightly to your view of what they did, you get hooked. Your own self-righteousness causes you to get all worked up and to suffer. So work on cooling that reactivity rather than escalating it. This approach reduces suffering--yours and everyone else's.

Work on reversing your caught-up, self-important attitude and remain relaxed in this process. Instead of always being caught in a prison of self-absorption, look out and express gentleness to all things. Then just relax.

Whatever you are doing, take the attitude of wanting to directly or indirectly benefit others. Take the attitude of wanting it to increase your experience of kinship with your fellow beings.

In this very life do not waste the opportunity to practice the main points:

1. Seeking to help others is more important than only looking out for yourself.
2. Practicing what your teacher has taught you is more important than scholarly study.
3. Awakening compassion (and thus lessening selfishness) is more important that any other spiritual practice.

I'm trying to remember what prompted me to seek out Chödrön. It was an article about dealing with current circumstances, and at the heart of the person's reflection was their use of When Things Fall Apart. I can't remember any more than that, the author or source or even exact topic, only thinking that it might be a good time for me to explore the book as well. And The Compassion Book is her title I could get quickest (others are on the way).

I think this recent read may have been an influence--and should be a companion tool--as well. Dictionary for a Better World: Poems, Quotes, and Anecdotes from A to Z by Irene Latham and Charles Waters (ill. by Mehrdokht Amini). My recent review:

What a wonderful book! 50 alphabetical spread-long entries for words such as Dialogue, Hate, Peace, and Vulnerable, each composed of 5 parts: a short poem, a definition of the poem's form, a related quote from a famous person or book, a paragraph in which one of the two authors discusses what the word means to them, and a "Try It!" prompt to put the idea into action; plus wonderful illustrations and art design. So much variety within the format, of tone, style, and topic. So many layers of ways to encounter the book and consider the topics. I want to buy it for my kids when they are old enough.

A couple of the poems that are especially speaking to me right now:

Intention

My mind is sometimes like a charcoal-infused

silvery cloud weighed down by this

complicated planet around me.

When life overwhelms my spirit, rather

than lashing out, creating a downpour

of fury due to stormy temper tantrums,

I instead take a deep breath, adjust my thinking,

then decide to be gentle, like a drizzle, nurturing

our habitat instead of trying to destroy it.

Each time I give myself a personal

intervention to shift my thoughts

with a positive, clear intention--

sunshine cascades into my world.

Acceptance

I am a word with teeth--

a crocodile

sunning on a muddy bank.

Some fear me;

others misunderstand me.

Yet I do not flounder (as you do)

in that unhappy swamp

between the way things are

and the way I'd like

them to be.

I rest in what is--

   drowsy, still--

belly bulging

as a plover picks bits

of meat from my mouth.

Try it!

Today, make something new. It could be a song or a poem or a drawing or a scarf or a garden or . . . 

I'm also reminded of a favorite quote previously featured in Necessary Evils and Unnecessary Goods

The daisies and buttercups nodded in the breeze, like skinny-necked old ladies listening to dance music.

What if necessary evil had an opposite? This is what it would be. This unnecessary good.

For the first time in days, Mo smiled.

― Tricia Springstubb, What Happened on Fox Street

It seems something similar to the random acts of kindness movement.

Oh, and that bit about sending love. That comes from Ask the Passengers by A.S. King. My review:

A.S. King has this uncanny ability to write characters that are both realistically flawed and believably admirable; and to write about issues that require entire books to capture their complexity while reducing them to simple, insightful common sense wisdom in the process.

She also has a way of making connections between people both magical and tangible. We can all relate to and understand each other, if only we take the time to really do so. Yet doing so can be so hard that accomplishing it can feel like magic.

She makes us believe that love can be passed, received, and felt between dreamers on the ground and passengers in the sky.

"You know, most people don't lie around looking at the sky for hours on end."

"I'm not looking at the sky," I say. "I'm watching the airplanes. . . .

"I sent them my love because I didn't need it here," I say. "Mom never loved me, and Dad was too busy doing other stuff, and you didn't love me because Mom had turned you against me, and then when Dee came along, I knew I couldn't love her even though I love her more than anything. But I knew I wouldn't be allowed. Not by Mom, not by Unity Valley. Not by you. Not by anyone."

"You didn't think you needed love here?"

"Right."

Astrid is struggling with love because everyone insists on giving it careful parameters that narrowly define us against (and generally falling well short of) standards of acceptable, good, and correct. But everyone else's definitions don't work for Astrid, and she refuses to accept their attempts to make her conform to one category or another. She can't. No one gets to define Astrid but Astrid herself. Even if not being defined means no one else in her life will choose to accept her.

Astrid has so much love to give. If only those in her life would become capable of getting over their predefined standards of perfection enough that they could receive--and return--that love.

King writes magic realism, and in this book Astrid's love gets through to the passengers, impacting them in subtle but meaningful ways. She has much bigger and more difficult issues to deal with than I do, has an absence of love in her life that I don't, and yet her strategy of coping seems equally helpful. To find more love in myself, send it to others.

Send love.

not my photo; not my shirt

And sometimes--just sometimes--remember to get out of my head.

Sorcery of Thorns

"She quite happily replied that she had plenty of books to keep her company."

The Director sighed. "Her attachment to the grimoires is . . . "

"Concerning? Yes, indeed. If she does not suffer from the lack of company, I fear it is because she sees grimoires as her friends in place of people."

"A dangerous way of thinking. But libraries are dangerous places. There is no getting around it."

I resemble that remark.

 

One of the days I picked my six-year-old up from camp last week, he climbed into the back of the car but didn't sit down like usual. I didn't even notice at first because we were catching up about his day like we normally do. As we talked, though, I became aware he was standing on the floor of the car right next to my shoulder, squirming around. "Sit down and get your seat belt on so we can get going."

"Just a minute; I have to do something first." More squirming, which I realized a few moments later was digging in his pocket. "I want to show you something."

I turned around and let out a little yell at the lizard in his palm, inches from my face.

"It's okay, it's dead."

"Did you have a dead lizard in your pocket?"

"Yeah, I just told you I found a lizard today."

"But I didn't expect you to pull it out of your pocket. . . . Say, was it alive or dead when you found it?"

"Dead."

"And you decided to put it in your pocket to bring home?"

"Yeah. Well, first I had it in my shoe, then I moved it into my pocket."

"You put it in your shoe at first because you didn't realize your pants had pockets?"

"No, I just thought my shoe was the best place to keep it. But then it started feeling squishy after a while so I decided to move it to my pocket."

Stepping out of shower. "Dad! We think we see a bobcat in the backyard!"

Grabbing a towel to go look. "Is it there now?"

"Yeah!" Screen door slam.

Walk down the hall and look out the window to see two children sprinting across the yard to peer under and around bushes at the fence.

Though there are stealthy and reclusive bobcats in our area, I didn't worry for a second that's what they'd actually seen. I did worry, though, that they did think that's what they were seeing and that's how they reacted. In talking with them after, we established: A) this was definitely a domestic pet, and B) bobcats are most definitely not cute, fuzzy, and friendly, and should never be approached unless they want to be eaten.