Love is the opposite of safe

Posted on May 2, 2010 by heidi

I’ve thought a lot about love and relationships. Not just “romantic” relationships, but all friendships in my life – how I select who I have in my life? How that supports the person I strive to be? How I support others to be their best selves?

I’ve spent lots of time thinking about why I selected my ex as a life partner? Why I’ve always felt like I’ve “failed”? Why I struggled to trust myself and others? I’ve tried to understand what brought me to this point? Why do I judge myself so harshly? What things in my life “created” me as the person that I am and how do I raise my own children to NOT have the struggles that I’ve had? Or do deal with them better?

A newsletter from Buddhist writer Susan Piver struck me between the eyes last week. Although I’ve “known” these things before, I was ready for her words to resonate deeply within me…

Too often, you think that you’ve  ”brought this heartbreak on yourself by carrying forward unhealed wounds from childhood or, god forbid, by thinking the wrong thoughts. I kind of hate this. Of course it’s really, really important to heal your wounds and to examine your thoughts to see if they might be sabotaging you—but when the intention for doing so is to avoid pain rather than increase your capacity to love, it is unlikely to heal you. This kind of advice is often out to convince you that you can create a safe world for yourself and that you can make love safe.

Love can never be made safe. It is the opposite of safe. The moment you try to make it safe, it ceases to be love. I realize this is a bummer, but think about it. Love is predicated on receptivity, on opening up again and again and again to your beloved, each time afresh. To do this, you have to let go of insisting that he or she conform to your standards for what a lover should look like, do, be, say, and instead allow him or her to simply be him or herself. Then you take it from there. To do otherwise, to continually choose who you wish this person was over who he or she actually is, is, well, it’s not love. I don’t know what it is. (Of course none of this stands to reason should any form of emotional or physical abuse be present. At this point you can forget everything I just said and protect yourself.)

Most often, the efforts to heal a broken heart center around putting it behind you and recreating the illusion of safety. Buddhism counsels something else, something best said by the American Buddhist nun, Pema Chodron: “Feel the feelings. Drop the story.” That is the pith advice and it means turning toward what you feel, not away. It means letting the feelings be just what they are without trying to explain them, shore your self up, or excuse or blame anyone. This is called being a warrior. The more you allow feelings to burn clean in this way, the less confusion you create.”

Just reading “love isn’t supposed to be safe” struck me like a cattle prod. I’ve recently had people either compliment me on my persistent drive for authenticity or criticize me/wonder why I over think things or continually “push” myself further. Both perspectives didn’t sit right with me – I couldn’t quite figure out why until now. I keep pushing myself because I don’t want to be “safe” but unhappy. I choose to be “uncomfortable”, to venture into unknown territory, and to learn gradually how to be open and unstable, yet accepting of all that comes.

It’s a difficult path for me to walk. But I don’t want to choose differently either, in order to make it easier or “safe”…

Posted in Finding Myself, Living A Purposeful Life, My Journey, Raising Our Children | 1 Comment

Where do memories reside?

Posted on January 16, 2010 by heidi

Via @bryanjack on twitter, I found myself reading Andrea’s blog post about endings and old vs new – and it raised more thoughts than would fit in a comment…

I got thinking about how often I assign meaning, memories and emotions to a thing, or a place, or a song or smell? Why do I hold onto things as a way to remember people?

My Dad died seven years ago now and shortly after that, my Mom moved to a much smaller house that was more manageable. As a result, my brothers and I all chose some items of furniture or such that we wanted.

I chose an old, green rocking chair that reminded me of my Dad. I remember that it sat next to the old, black, dial telephone on Dad’s desk. I remember sitting in that chair while Dad worked at his desk – paying bills, doing taxes, filing paperwork. I remember my Dad sitting in that chair, quietly reading a book and gently rocking back and forth.

Before my Dad died, I remember my husband’s grandparents passing away (within six months of each other) – and the resulting process of dispersing their worldly goods. Somehow, all of their “stuff” had go to new homes – their furniture, dishes, nic-nacs, jewelry, clothing, half-finished quilts, knitting needles, cutting boards, etc… It wasn’t always easy either! What to do when several people had memories and attachments to the same items?

And more recently, I’ve been thinking deeply about the life I want to live, and the stress that “stuff” can create as we have to keep it clean and put away. Having less “stuff” makes my live less stressful and more enjoyable.

So why do I hold on to that old green chair?

It’s a physical reminder of my Dad – the person that he was, the memories of being near him, the relationship that we had…

And yet, those memories don’t reside within the chair. That’s just a reminder, just a prompt. Those memories can never disappear, even if the chair is gone.

I’ve thought a lot about how to keep memories alive without these kinds of reminders. Sometimes it’s a photograph. Sometimes it’s the little things I say to my own children that I remember from my Dad. Sometimes it’s a passing thought.

But what’s most clear to me is that my memories don’t reside within the things around me – they’re part of me and who I am. I like that I don’t have to clutter my life with “stuff” in order to hold onto parts of who I am or what I care about. I’m grateful that I’ve learned to focus on what’s really important to me – all of the “stuff” I need is already inside of me.

And I hope that my children will learn, as a result, that material things aren’t what’s really important!

Posted in Finding Myself, Raising Our Children | 2 Comments

Lulled…

Posted on January 4, 2010 by heidi

The holidays were… well… different this year.
Weird.
Strange.

In some ways, it was the same as usual – dinner with the in-laws, Christmas morning all together with the kids.

And yet it wasn’t the same. It was the first Christmas since my husband and I separated. Of course it was going to be different and stressful, in some way or another, right?

As I sit tonight and reflect on the thoughts, feelings and events that transpired over the last two weeks, I feel overwhelmed – by lots of the same old feelings…

And I realize how easy it is to let myself be lulled into a familiar rhythm – to allow myself to think that maybe things can kinda continue along, not all that different. Perhaps pretending to myself (or wishing) that we could skip over all the potential pitfalls and jump straight to a friendly co-parenting stage of our separated relationship.

Maybe, if I lie here quietly and pretend everything is okay, then the boat won’t rock so harshly. If we just don’t talk about it and pretend we’re okay, maybe we can just glide a little while and not get gored by the rocks beneath the surface. I was rocking softly in a hammock with my eyes closed – and perhaps that’s why it’s so shocking when I reflect now and feel the cold, cold water engulf my body as this particular (dream) boat capsizes…

It hits me with all the grief of a fresh wound – no, we aren’t going to just move forward as if nothing has changed but we’re living in separate places. No, it’s not going to be smooth sailing.

It hurts…

I can’t stay in the same place, even though I look yearningly over my shoulder, wishing it were different – wishing we could laugh again, talk to each other, share dreams. What happened to the soft touch, inside jokes, shared history, holding hands, comfortable silences, supportive hugs?

Yet I can appreciate that this pain and grief are also what opens my heart, mind and spirit to growth. I have, indeed, walked through a door to a different place and it will take time to feel comfortable here – time to get familiar with the new and to grieve the good parts of what I left behind.

And I have to keep reminding myself that, even when it’s hard, I can only keep moving forward – learning, digging deeper to understand, getting healthier and more authentic with each step.

Being lulled may be easy in the moment, but ultimately, it holds me in this purgatory of uncertainty, fear and doubt for just a little longer than I need to be…

Posted in Finding Myself, My Journey | 1 Comment

Everyday Peace

Posted on November 11, 2009 by heidi

My eleven year old daughter came home from school on Monday and said “Mom, we were talking about Remembrance Day in class today, then about World War II and I said that I’m part German. Now some of the kids are making fun of me and I really don’t like that…”

Immediately, I bristled…

Sure, there’s that Mama Bear instinct – the one that wants to squash anyone or anything that hurts your little baby. But this reaction was more than that.

On Tuesday, I sat at my eight year old son’s Remembrance Day ceremony. I watched the Grade Three’s recite “In Flanders Fields” and the Grade Five’s each state what peace means to them.

As I listened to my son and his classmates recite the poem, I particularly noticed the final verse:

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
(by Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae)

I cringed a little inside. Like I always have, at every Remembrance Day ceremony since I’ve understood what it was all about. And I thought of my daughter, being teased for saying that she’s part German…

How am I supposed to feel when I sit in a ceremony, listening to stories of the sacrifices made by the Allies in order to preserve world peace, knowing that I am a part (through my heritage) of this enemy of freedom? And yet I’m also grateful that Hitler was defeated! And I’m grateful for the sacrifices that Canadian soldiers made by going to war.

What am I supposed to feel if I’m the “foe”? My family, going back generations, is German on both sides. My father and uncles fought in World War II as German soldiers. My dad was captured just outside of Berlin by the American forces and became a POW. The Americans “traded” him to the French because France needed help rebuilding.

Was my dad the bad guy?

What I know is that I’ve always found this confusing. What I know is that my dad was the quietest, most gentle man you could ever meet. He so rarely got angry, he was never aggressive, he never hit us, he didn’t even raise his voice! I remember being mad at him and having to work really hard to STAY mad at him because he could always make me laugh! What I know is that this man was not the foe.

Then I listened to the Grade Five students recite their “Peace is…” statements. Many evoked beautiful imagery, but what did they mean?

Peace is a flower blooming.
Peace is water running over rocks.
Peace is a mountain meadow.

Then, second to last, one boy said “Peace is caring about all the people in the world.”

Suddenly, something fell into place for me. I’ve always hated feeling like, maybe, I should hide a part of myself on this day. And years of feeling slightly embarrassed or shameful is what made me bristle when my daughter came home from school, upset.

Today, I finally put my finger on something that I’ve never been able to articulate before. I never want to minimize what Canadian (and other Allied) soldiers did to preserve the peace that my privileged little life makes so easy to take for granted. But the foe that they fought was not the German soldiers who stood before them – not my gentle, teen-aged father.

The foe that they fought and that we must all continue to fight is not any one person – not even Hitler. It is something that each of us, in different ways, struggles with. It is part of being human.

Our foe is the fear inside that clouds our ability to listen to another’s point of view.

Our foe is that insecurity that makes us seek power over others, as if to prove our own worth in some way.

Our foe is the lack of self awareness and empathy that allows us to single mindedly pursue our own needs without care for the needs of others.

Our foe is the silent way we “sleep” through our days – doing things how they’ve always been done, because that’s how they’re “supposed” to be done, never questioning whether that’s right or not?

Our foe is also that very human desire to point a finger of blame or judgment at someone else, be that one other human being or another country – because it allows me to think it couldn’t have been me and, therefore, I don’t have to do anything differently…

I cannot and will not judge the German people for following an insane leader. I cannot say that I would not have done the same if I felt my children were threatened. It’s so easy to see the truth in hindsight, from my warm, safe house, with food in my fridge and my children sleeping soundly in their beds…

What I can do, though, is continue to do the often difficult work of digging through my own assumptions, actions, reactions, patterns, issues, beliefs and stories.

What I will do is continue to strive to parent my own children with more awareness and to model an unconditional kind of love that accepts, supports and inspires them to reach their greatest potential.

What I must do is work with passion and integrity to transform our “stories” about parenting and schools – so that every child can grow into self aware, compassionate, literate, contributing citizens of our society.

This is how I choose to “take up the quarrel with the foe.”
Because I also believe that “peace is caring about all the people in the world.”

And it will be an every day, every moment, every person kind of peace that we will create together…

Posted in Living A Purposeful Life, My Journey, Personal Leadership, Raising Our Children | Tagged , | 5 Comments