Giving Up and Giving In

From Merriam Webster's online dictionary:

Giving up:  to yield control or possession of (surrender); to desist from (abandon); to declare incurable or insoluble

Giving in:   to yield under insistence or entreaty;  SYNS: surrender, yield, submit

We usually look at giving up as a negative...if only we would try harder we could reach our goal...if only we put in more effort we would win.  We are encouraged to keep trying, keep going, keep pushing, keep giving time and energy to the task.  Athletic coaches are fond of the phrase, "winners never quit."  Winners don't give up.

In the same way, giving in is, basically, losing.  When a river bank collapses after a heavy rain it gives out or caves in.  Whatever words we use, they signify disaster.

But it has been on my mind lately that sometimes giving up and giving in are exactly what is required.  Sometimes we need to give up control, give up trying to answer unanswerable questions, give up trying to make sense and give in to life. Surrender to the universe.

in the spaces...

I've spent the last few weeks preparing for a new semester.  I'm teaching introductory sociology again after a hiatus of 6 or 7 years.  Thinking I would probably never be teaching the course again I got rid of most of my notes and materials in the latest of my office moves....bad decision. So, I've been doing a lot of reading, refreshing myself on the materials I want to cover.

Two classic pieces for introductory sociology are C. Wright Mills "The Promise" in which the term "sociological imagination" is coined and Alan Johnson's "The Forest, the Trees, and the One Thing."  Both emphasize the interrelationship of individuals and societies...people shape society and are shaped by society.  One metaphor (analogy?) sometimes used to describe this relationship is that of a river.  The banks of the river contain and structure the water flow, but over time the water itself starts to shift the banks, cutting a new path.

But, every time I read Johnson's article, I'm struck again by the importance of empty space.  As he describes it, we can think of people as individual trees, but if we take those trees and put them near one another, we have created a forest.  What creates the forest though, is not just the accumulation of individual trees, but the spaces between them. These empty spaces create the forest.

In many teaching training instructions we are advised to not be afraid of silence in the classroom, to give students time to respond, to not rush in with an answer.  This is certainly true in intimate conversations, like those between a therapist and a client, but I find them, too, in my relationships with students.  Sometimes the silence is needed to create a space for the words.  Robert Krulwich has a great story that focuses on silence.  He talks about two Bible stories, Abraham and Isaac and Noah.  He describes how much of each story takes place in silence. (You can listen to it here...http://www.radiolab.org/story/91898-in-silence/)  Now, are these silences because the recorder of the story thought the responses were insignificant or are they silences because they hold meaning?  Are the silent voices of women and minorities in history because they had nothing important to say or because nobody bothered to record them or because it is their silence itself that is meaningful.

It is reminiscent of Claude Debussy's quote, "Music is the space between the notes."  It is the pattern, the rhythm, the distance of one from another that makes a series of notes music.  In the same way, it is what happens in the space between people that creates a relationship. 

 

A New Year

I've never been much of one for making new year's resolutions, so I've decided not to start.  But it seems like every now and then a person should take stock of where they are and where they are headed...not much sense in looking back at where you have been.  So, maybe tonight I'll do a little stock taking, in private, with a good drink, a warm fire, and a calm heart.

One thing I can say about this year, I have encountered more kindness than I thought possible, more care and concern, more love, and more friendship than I knew existed.  Oh, but wait, that is looking backward!!

I will look forward.

Living in the Gray

                                               

It seems like one of the developmental tasks of adulthood is coming to recognize, accept, and maybe even appreciate the "grayness" of life.  Not every decision is black and white, not every experience is totally positive or negative, no person is all good or all bad.  My acceptance of grayness has been maybe longer in coming than for most.  I've always wanted to know the answer, to seek some absolute truth, to have a definitive solution to a problem.  Long ago I learned to love my gray hair. Now I've found I'm beginning to enjoy the inherent ambiguity and uncertainty of life...well, sometimes.

My new problem is that we tend to have fewer ways to talk about the middle. Our vocabulary emphasizes extremes.  There are so many words for anger:  irate, incensed, outraged.  There are words for calm; peaceful, serene, tranquil.  But what do we call something inbetween...."okay"? "Happy"?  They seem weak and ineffectual.  Other choices might be ambivalent, conflicted, uncertain, accepting.  But they all have a somewhat negative connotation.  I guess we have experimenting, exploring, discovering, at least those words convey some sense of wonder and excitement, but I think they also imply that there is an endpoint, a treasure at the end of the road.

It is not only language that troubles me, but gestures as well.  What is there between a handshake and a kiss? Is it a hug?  How do you convey a sense of closeness and friendship without a sexual connotation? With non-romantic interests a hug works well, if you are a hugger.  But what about that in between category of "possibles"?  People living in your gray zone. People with whom there is no romantic intent (yet), but with whom there is emotional,but not physical, intimacy (at least not now).  A hug might give the wrong impression, but doing nothing feels wrong, too.

I think if we, as adults, are to truly embrace our gray, we need better words!!!

Sitting with dying

I spent several hours today sitting with dying.  B, one of my hospice patients, who I've been visiting since January, is near death. She is only vaguely aware of my presence, but I am so acutely aware of hers.  Sitting by her bedside, holding her hand, watching the rapid pulse at the base of her neck, listening to the ragged breaths, I think about her life.  At 96 she has seen great changes, suffered tragic losses, celebrated wonderful moments. Her daughter remarked at one point, "It's like childbirth. There is suffering to bring life into the world and suffering to leave it."

Sitting with dying is alternatively challenging and calming.  Sitting still, awkwardly leaning over a bed rail to hold a hand, makes your back ache. Listening to the labored breathing tempts you to hurry the process. At the same time, there can be a peace. The quiet words of reassurance, of compassion, of caring, resonate in your very soul. The shared stories, the tears, and even the laughs, remind you of the life you are living.  Your focus narrows on the friend in the bed, but your heart feels open to the whole world.

Time in a bottle...

Remember the song, "Time in a Bottle"?  Recorded shortly before Jim Croce died in a plane crash, it was a big hit towards the end of my high school years.  The song speaks of the wish to have more time and the joy of having found someone with whom you would like to spend every minute of life.  Written as a love song to his wife, it seems prescient of him when your realize that only a few years later he would die tragically.

I think of the term slightly differently, though.  There are moments of my life that I would like to hold in my heart forever; days, hours, minutes that I would like to freeze in time. I sometimes look up and think, "This is good."

I have my share of disappointments.  Shattered dreams, dashed hopes, days of confusion and despair.  But, I have moments like today, with my sons at the table laughing and joking.

It is a day for filling bottles.

                                              

Leaving things behind

I once read a travel advice column that advised packing old underwear when you go on vacation and then throwing the underwear away, giving you extra room in your suitcase for the trip home.  I guess this could be useful advice, but underwear doesn't take up that much room and, if you travel often, won't be much help unless you are buying a lot of new underwear.

I've spent the last few days at a conference and am packing my suitcase. I'm bringing home all my underwear, but the program book, the random handouts and brochures, my badge, even the complimentary conference tote bag will be staying in my hotel room.  I can easily leave them behind.

There is a great song by Nanci Griffith, Things I Don't Need.  The refrain goes,

These things I don't need that weigh me down
Things I don't want but still keep around
I woke up today and made up my mind
From now on I'll leave all those things I don't need behind

It makes me think of what gets left behind on a journey. Of course you leave money, and some other material possessions.  But what else?  It seems you can leave things you no longer need, things you may have found have outlived their usefulness in your life.  Old thoughts, old habits, old feelings. But, maybe sometimes, you have to leave behind things you will miss.  Old relationships, old security objects, old desires and wishes.  Not everything that gets left is as simple as discarded underwear, some things you leave are harder to let go of, harder to see as burdens.  And maybe they aren't burdens, maybe they are joys and hopes and wishes and safety.  And maybe you still have to leave them.  And it will be sad.