April Moon 14: Day 9-10-11 -- Yearning, Secret, Reflection

Yearning

What feelings does this word evoke? What sorts of memories does it recall? Which of your senses start to tingle? How would you represent what this word means to you?

Memories, memories....while I really can't say I yearn for the 'good ol' days' that were, indeed, not usually all that good, there are some things I miss. My parents, for one -- being able to pick up the phone and call them, hear their voices, or visit and feel those loving arms around me. There were times, often at holidays, when being with those I loved so dearly was almost unbearably poignant, even when the very next moment could bring a melt-down or create an uncomfortable tension. There was a lot of stress, though, usually in things not being said, and I do not miss that at all. 

I could say I yearn for simpler times, but really, my life right now is pretty simple, and really good -- with the exception of some pesky health issues that cause some stress and worry.

Sometimes I yearn for the ocean, and then we usually take a trip to rejuvenate our watery Scorpio selves, but that's going to have to wait for a little bit until we get some of this health stuff resolved. I love the sound, the smell, the constancy of the waves, the way I know exactly where I am.

When I feel yearning for something, I try to analyze what is triggering the longing: is it remembering times now gone? Is it a need unfulfilled in my life, and if so, what is that need, and what can I do about it? Is it just frustration with the way the day is going? Then I take a deep breath, and remember all the wonderful things I have to be grateful for, and bless the memory or the feeling.

Secret

What feelings does this word evoke? What sorts of memories does it recall? Which of your senses start to tingle? How would you represent what this word means to you?

I am not a big keeper of secrets. If anything, I am probably a bit too open about my life and feelings, and that's certainly come back to bite me in the past. However, I certainly can keep them tightly locked up, and there are a couple that I've held very close. When something is told to me in confidence, I will honor that -- actually, I've sometimes learned about a 'secret' someone shared with me that turned out to be fairly common knowledge but that never passed my lips!

I don't much like secrets. I think they hamper honest communication and create barriers. I don't even much like secrets like surprise parties, but that's primarily because I hate being blindsided. And I hate being lied to, especially when I can tell that a person is not being forthcoming. I would rather know the truth, no matter how awful, than hear any lie.

Reflection

What feelings does this word evoke? What sorts of memories does it recall? Which of your senses start to tingle? How would you represent what this word means to you? 

Reflection is sort of like Monday-morning quarterbacking: you think about something that happened or that  you said, and then you think about all the OTHER ways the scene could have played out, or all the (better) things you might have said or done.

While I think there are real truths and lessons to be found in reflecting upon actions and words -- re-examining them from different angles and perspectives, especially with some time gone by -- there is a danger in doing too much of that and in the process diluting the lesson, even to the point of unhealthy obsession.

I confess to doing too much reflection, especially when I have time to ponder, and it usually leads to judgmental thinking, mostly negative. Somehow I usually come up with the shoulda-coulda-wouldas that could have changed an outcome, and often I am critical of my own behavior.

So the key is to find the lesson therein; be gentle with myself and then to let it go, not coming back over and over like a dog with a big, gnarly bone. Reflection is good; obsession is not.

Scintilla#13, Day 2

Today's prompts:
1. What's the biggest lie you've ever told? Why? Would you tell the truth now, if you could?

2. Tell a story about something interesting (anything!) that happened to you, but tell it in the form of an instruction manual (Step 1, Step 2, etc.).

Since I've been pretty much out of commission since the end of December and my days have been mostly spent sitting in a recliner with my foot elevated, not much of interest has happened. I'm currently doing physical therapy, but that's not interesting to anybody except me. And at this moment, I'm simply brain-dead about anything 'interesting.' So no to number 2.

As much as I despise liars now, I will confess to having told a few whoppers when I was much younger. No, really. I haven't done much lying for a long time. Perhaps I haven't revealed everything I know, to be sure, but that's not exactly a lie. (Is it?)

I can't really talk about the biggest lie because there are people still alive who don't know, and while I don't think they read this blog, I am not revealing those secrets. (And I'm still glad I told it. It was literally life-changing for me.)

One of the big lies I remember happened just after I got my driver's license at age 16. I was hot to drive by myself the mint green old (1950-something) Nash Rambler that was my mother's car. She'd gotten her license just months before I got mine, and the folks bought the Rambler because it was an automatic shift -- she hated the stick shift on our primary car as much as I did.

I finally got permission to drive my brother and myself to our Sunday night church youth group, but not until my parents had extracted a promise from me to 'Go straight to church and come straight home.'  I vowed to do just that, totally excited to at last have wheels! WooHOO!

But. One of my closest friends needed a ride home, and I volunteered. I mean, what could happen? It wasn't too far out of our way, just a jog here and there, and then straight home. I assured her it would be fine. Jimmy, my brother, was fine with that.

No problem. We pulled into her gravel driveway, she hopped out, and then I took my foot off the brake momentarily. The passenger front door was still open a little since my brother had transferred into the front seat. And the edge of the door caught a sturdy tree that was near the edge of her driveway, wrenching it open with a loud screech of protesting metal.

Oh. My. God.

I knew I would never be allowed to drive again.  I would be grounded for life. It was going to be expensive. And I had disobeyed my parents' explicit orders. (I was a very obedient child, I must say, pretty much always doing what was expected of me. At least at that point...)

Jimmy and Carol Ann and I put our heads together -- theirs being much cooler than my panic-stricken one --  and came up with a story. There were concrete half posts interspersed throughout the church parking lot. We decided that I had backed a little too close to one of them and Jimmy had not yet closed the door all the way and it just caught the edge and bent it. Right? Right.

The door wasn't hanging off the hinge, but it didn't close all the way either, and Jimmy hung onto it to keep it more or less closed all the way home. Tearfully I explained to my folks what had happened AT CHURCH and how sorry I was, and he backed me up, straight-faced and solemn.

If they didn't quite buy the story, I didn't hear about it. Carol Ann never said a word. And my brother and I have never talked about the big lie we conspired to tell our parents so many years ago.

Would I tell the truth now? Uh. Probably not. The car was fixed and as I recall wasn't a big expense but more of a big inconvenience. We were allowed to drive to church by ourselves at least occasionally. But I never again deviated from the 'straight to church, straight home' instructions. I knew I'd gotten away with it once, but was sure it would never happen again.

Deja vu (all over again)*

Another meeting this weekend was cause for serious deja-vu, and more bewilderment about ethics, moral codes, and people's behavior. While not a general meeting, this was a neighborhood board meeting, one of several throughout the year which I and others have been attending just to keep an eye on how business is being conducted.

The deja-vu came when the players mentioned here pretty much reprised their behavior of last fall. The six of us who came as interested parties were threatened with the sheriff -- the host and leader said that he had the right to throw any of us who disrupted the meeting off his property. At least two of us were ridiculed, insulted, and subjected to character assassination, including private business that had no place being aired at that meeting or any other.

I simply do not understand how a person can be so filled with anger and hatred that nothing but venom comes out of his mouth. I have never heard this person say anything positive about anything, and he obviously takes pleasure out of pushing other people's buttons, especially personal ones, and watching them react, and in being just as ugly and mean and nasty as you can imagine a person could be.

It's clearly a power thing -- he throws out a personal attack, and watches as that person reacts -- usually in anger and frustration and embarrassment. And he smiles. I watched him do it.

What could have twisted this man so deeply that he takes such pleasure out of causing others pain and humiliation? According to those who have lived here as long as he has, he has always been this way (and he's no spring chicken).

After last fall's meeting, I said that I was done wasting major time on minor people, and by golly, I have pretty much done that. I did not allow this man and his horrible comments to affect the rest of my day, nor to ruin my sleep. Except for a few moments when my honey was expressing his opinion and things got tense and my tummy sort of turned over, I have been pretty sanguine about it.

As writer Kim Antieau said today, you can change light bulbs, but you can't change people.

I have reflected a bit on his nature and on how bleak such a life must be to live. I know that the good thing to do is to say a prayer for him. But I simply do not understand at all how there can be a moral code by which such people live -- how do they even live with themselves? How could you find anything good or decent or loving in the world when you are so filled with anger and hatred, and behave in such an immoral way?

You either have morals or you don't. I think they're learned at a very early age, and I believe there are people who have none, who live only by a "do unto others before they do unto you" code. What a bleak existence.

The ultimate insult to these people is to be ignored and dismissed. And that's how I've begun to handle it. If I don't fuel their passion through my own response, they get no pleasure (although what masters of manipulation! They will stop at nothing to evoke a response, any response, and it is so difficult not to respond when your words are being twisted, you are being slandered, and your character is defamed so publicly, and of course you want badly to deny the lies.)

Next meeting is September. We'll see how I do.

*from Yogi Berra, who also coined such twists of the language as these. Scary that some of them actually make sense.

Telling the truth

Truth: the true or actual state of a matter.

That's not so hard, is it. The actual state of a matter.

And yet we avoid it, we lie about it, we cover it up, we find ways to pretend it doesn't exist.

No, folks, this is not a political post. I'm just pondering truth these days and why it is so hard to acknowledge it.

Medical conditions, for instance. Why is it that we will avoid going to the doctor, gloss over a symptom, tell ourselves that no, that really wasn't a lump but muscle; no, that really wasn't anything but indigestion; no, the sharp pain in the leg is just because we overdid it.

Acknowledging the truth of the situation can save a life, ease pain, forestall greater harm.

Or why do we avoid friends and family, avoid telling them what is really going on with us, acknowledge to them that what they said hurt, that we really don't like them very much, that we are uncomfortable when they party too much?

Is it embarrassment for ourselves or for the other person? Co-dependence -- we don't want them to worry about us? Fear -- that actually knowing the truth is scarier than pretending nothing is wrong? That knowing then makes it real and we have to deal with the consequences?

And yet the truth eventually comes to light, doesn't it, and we deal with the issue AND the avoidance.

I hate not knowing the truth. My mind is capable of creating immensely complex, terrifying consequences when I'm not hearing anything from my daughter -- despite repeated phone messages and calls. So far, at least in similar situations in the past, the truth hasn't been nearly as stressful as the scenarios I've imagined (may that continue!) But goodgollygeewhiz, I dread the ice weasel parties that are in the planning stages, and the subsequent sleeplessness and stress.

And I don't understand why the lack of communication, the lack of truth.

I have a huge dental phobia -- I don't even like getting my teeth cleaned, and I confess I'm avoiding it right now. I don't want to offend anyone (like the hygenist), but it hurt last time. And I guess I don't want to be judged as a complete and total wimp, and far too old to behave that way at the dentist -- so I don't say anything when I finally DO get in the chair.

And yet who does my lack of truth hurt? Me.

How many of us have hesitated to go the the doctor because we're afraid something is wrong? Denied feeling depressed and worried when we really feel like hiding under the bed and never coming out? Put on a happy face to the world when we're clearly NOT okay?

Who does the truth hurt? Ourselves.

My mother insisted that we tell the truth: she hated lies, and always punished the lie far more severely than she ever did the truth, no matter how bad. I hate lying too -- tell me any truth, but never lie to me if you care about me. Once lost in a lie, trust is nearly impossible to regain.

I don't have any brilliant, insightful conclusions here. I'm just feeling sad about how we deceive ourselves, sad about the sometimes hard consequences of such denials. Worried over lack of communication of the truth, whatever it may be. Fearful of those unknowns. And always trying to balance honesty and truth with compassion and kindness ...

The truth shall set you free. Free to take care of yourself properly, to live honestly, to be who you are without apology. I think I'll make that cleaning appointment in the morning.

Behaving ethically

I was abruptly reminded today that age and experience do not necessarily render a person either wiser or kinder. And in fact, in this case, I suspect that age and experience have probably rendered at least one man even nastier and more devious -- and I seriously doubt that he ever acted kindly toward anyone, including his family.

The unpleasant encounters came at a neighborhood meeting that was dominated by one man -- not the titular president, who himself showed an ugly, very autocratic face -- who somehow had buffaloed and bullied a majority of those present into supporting him and his agenda. While I know only a few of those present very well, and some not at all, I was simply floored by the overall meek acceptance as gospel truth of the vitriol this man was spouting.

It wasn't even that his proposals had no merit -- there was at least one that was fair and rational. But the way he had ramrodded it through a vote included out-and-out lying and slandering the characters and actions of two volunteers. At one point he boldly admitted in front of the whole group, "I lied." He nominated himself for election to an office, and when confronted with the fact that he had agreed not to seek a position again, declared that he would not leave the board.

And the group sat there, eating brownies and drinking soda, in tacit acceptance of his dismissive, disrespectful, and admittedly unethical behavior. And elected him.

The other man, also on the board and who also had agreed not to seek re-election, also admitted he'd lied, and publicly declared himself to be the sole authority on any road or road-frontage issues in the entire neighborhood, challenging one respectful objector to "Sue me."

And the group sat there. And a few expressed appreciation for his dedication. And stuffed their faces. And elected him too.

Both men were publicly abrasive toward others in the group, most especially and maliciously towards the two volunteers who were not present, and to the handful who raised objections or asked questions about process or decisions made during the year.

It turned ugly. There were raised voices. There were accusations and obscenities flung by several parties, but most clearly by the two liars who had just been again elected to office.

And most of the group just sat there, eating brownies and drinking soda, and saying nothing. Baaaaaa...

I'll confess that I was one of the objectors, and that I threw out a few zingers too. Although I'm generally very slow to anger, I hate lying above nearly anything -- save abuse of animals and people -- and I knew FOR A FACT that both men were lying about far more than they'd publicly admitted. I was shocked that they had managed to so thoroughly convince a group of individuals I'd thought had some intelligence to believe falsehoods and fabrications in order to achieve their self-serving goals.

And I was -- and am -- once again disillusioned and disgusted that unethical, dishonest, mean-spirited, downright nasty actions have been accepted as reasonable and tolerable behavior. It's not the first time I've seen this in the past few years, but it hasn't hit quite as close to home as it did today.

I continue to believe in right speech, right actions, right thought, right intention, right livelihood, right effort and right mindfulness as a way of life. I believe in the Golden Rule: treat others as you would like to be treated -- as a guiding ethic of life. I don't believe any of us are exempt from those moral principles, and I believe in karma: that what goes around comes around.

I just want to be there to see it. Okay, I work on that...

It was not a fun day. It's probably not over, either, because I believe there will be repercussions from today's actions. But I'm done. I will not waste major time on minor people. I have more interesting, more important things in my life. Thanks be.