Tuesday, December 12, 2023

Wham! Life Hits Us.

 

“La de da da,” we come into this lifetime joyful, smiling, squirming bundles of possibilities. Oh, what fun. We will run and play and bask in the love of adoring parents. This is a vacation, playtime on earth—this beautiful planet with its colors and trees to climb and animals to play with, and…

 

Wham! Something hits us. What was that? I can’t go into the water because I can’t swim?

 

“Oh, okay, I’ll learn to swim.”

 

“La de da da. I’m a dolphin. Mom look at me. See how I glide through the water.”

 

“Mom, why are you crying?”

 

“What’s happening?”

 

“Daddy’s leaving? That can’t be. He’s supposed to stay here, live with us. You’re getting a what? A divorce? That can’t be, parents are supposed to live with each other. They are supposed to be here for me, for us, together.”

 

There are many others in the naked City, country, or hovel.

 

The point is we have created beliefs about how life is, but we go on building a life for ourselves. We go to school—well, that’s another story—the point is, though, that with those hits, we develop a view of how life is, and thus we develop a view of ourselves.

 

We see how people leave us, how we feel unloved, or how hard it was to maneuver the school playground, the lunchroom, the taunts or teasing. We might excel at interpersonal relationships, but there is usually something. We might think we are better than most—that’s an injury, too.

 

We have taken hits, and since they are emotionally charged, they impact us more than the gentle, happy ones. We were raised by parents who sustained hits of their own and, chances are, had no clue about raising kids. They had their own problems. However, together we muddled through. Maybe we had a best friend that filled in some of the holes in our psyche. Perhaps we had many friends, which further influenced our view of life.

 

The bottom line is that through all this, we developed beliefs.

 

I thought I had nothing to discuss today until I remembered yesterday’s email. A friend sent me a quote from Vincent Genna. It was, “Thoughts do not create, beliefs do.”

 

“Yes!” I yelled. “That’s the missing piece of the Law of Attraction puzzle.” We create through our beliefs, not from our thoughts. And most of those beliefs are held and exercised unconsciously.

 

Wow, this business of life is tricky.

 

But we’re adults now, and we can look back and throw those beliefs onto the wall to see if they stick. Are they true? Are they important to keep? Can we replace that belief with a more healthy, pertinent one? Perhaps they are absolutely not true. You did nothing to affect your parent’s personal problems. They were theirs, not yours. Maybe you can forgive them now.

 

I mentioned in a blog earlier that I was writing a memoir. Whenever I say it seems ostentatious to write one, think of it this way: I believe everybody should write one. Thus, my title Come On, I Dare You. Like, hey, don’t leave me alone in this. Every writer knows that a piece of writing affects the one writing it more than the one reading it.

 

From going over my life, I wonder now what my mother thought and felt when she discovered, at 16, that she was pregnant with me. I know she took her best friend with her when she went to tell my father. (I found out that later from her best friend.) She and my father got married and about four years later divorced, but that’s really all I know. She obviously felt she “Had to get married. It was shameful in those days to be an unwed mother. (Although it regularly occurred.) And she tried to hide it from me her entire life.

 

Once in the night, I heard her tell my stepdad, “I hope Joyce never finds out.” However, I knew. Kids know many things their parents try to keep from them. They also know that they shouldn’t know, so they stay quiet. I didn’t know, though, how much she suffered over finding that she was pregnant. And I don‘t know how much I shared her emotions since at the time, we were both sharing the same body.

 

That “trauma” could have contributed to some of my beliefs. 


Monday, December 4, 2023

Wrong or Less Wrong

 

“It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.”

Aristotle

Five hundred years ago, most people thought the sun revolved around the earth, doctors thought bleeding a patient would cure him, and women thought spreading dog urine on their faces had anti-aging effects.

We look back in horror at many of the actions and beliefs of our ancestors, yet in five hundred years, what will people think of us?

We are injecting substances into our bodies to change their structure, hacking off parts, and pumping up others. We are defined by our money and jobs, the car we drive, and the house we live in. We, like starving kittens, follow famous people around. We tend to withhold support from the people close to us while lavishing it on folks we think “made it” without knowing them. We’re struggling.

Yet, from every culture comes a spark of something that advances the human experience. While we may think we are correct in our beliefs, we may find that we are less wrong. Each step up needs to be corrected. There probably isn’t that shining moment when the celestial choir sings, which means we have reached the pinnacle. No, we are just less wrong.

We get things stuck in our brains that do not serve us, and then we must defend that belief because, heaven forbid, we mustn’t be wrong. Most people are wrong  ¾ of the time, like the airplane that needs constant adjustment, yet it hits the tarmac on a dime if someone dropped one there. We believed our thoughts at the time. Now, we think of something else. We are less wrong. It’s called growth.

For the most part, school has taught us to give the “correct” answer. It has taught us not to be wrong. If we are wrong, it’s embarrassing. Sometimes, multiple choices are so close you could debate them for the day. Okay, which one is less wrong? Kids laugh at other kids who get the wrong answer because usually beneath that is a sigh of relief, “Whew, it wasn’t me.”

I’ve run into this story a couple of places: Pablo Picasso, then an old man, was sitting in a café’ doodling on a used napkin. He was nonchalantly drawing whatever his pen drew him to.

A woman had been looking on in awe.

After Picasso had finished his coffee, he crumbled up his napkin to throw away when he left the shop. 

“Wait, the woman cried. “Can I have your napkin? I’ll pay you for it.”

“Sure,” replied Picasso. “Twenty thousand dollars.”

“What? It only took you two minutes to draw that.”

“No, replied Picasso. “It took me over sixty years to draw this.’

 He stuffed the napkin in his pocket and left the café’.