Wednesday, August 8, 2012

I Am the Mighty Oz!

Good very early morning,

I am just trying to get into the swing of being in a new place, and on a new time schedule.  I am working limited hours, but working on home time, and the time difference is so confusing!  I haven't slept normally - actually I really haven't slept much - yet.  And I am working on this blog in the middle of the night.  So forgive me if I seem a bit strange!!! (Stranger than normal, maybe!)

Thank you for your powerful response to my bus story.  As an added piece, a few stops later, I was talking to a young woman who brought up the episode.  She told me she felt so bad for the man, then sort of looked at me, gauging my response - we are seeking each other in this world.  I agreed and we talked about it for a few moments.   What was most powerful for me was that moment of understanding it might just be that simple.  I have been waiting for massive changes, looking for them, reading books about them.  But the simple truth is that all we have to do is open our hearts and be vulnerable and truly see each other.  It sounds so simple when I write it down...

I have been on this path for awhile, and the confirmation that have not strayed is comforting.  I remember discussing the "war" in Iraq with someone from France.  As I described what we have been doing, I started to cry.  It was humiliating, but I stood in my tears, and refused to be theoretical about destroyed families and depleted uranium. 

I think the next step is to do something...and with this work with you, I have a feeling the something is very simple.  Shine a light on the situation.  We look at it with compassion, but we look - no cringing, no averting eyes, no pretending it isn't happening.  The Oz story holds lots of symbolism...we stop buying into the drama and watch the man behind the curtain!  We pull back the curtains and see.  I just had this image of being able to see with the heart.  Is there some kind of folk image of a heart with eyes?

You wrote of suffering.  It makes us strong, they tell us.  But I agree it is humiliating and painful and isolating.  There comes the time when we pull back the curtain, and see that we are the little man hiding behind the curtain pretending to be all powerful Oz.  Ah, but the relief of just having to be Clare.  I can just be a flawed human being making my way through each day with a smile - mostly, and a song in my heart and on my lips - sometimes.  Shining the light seems simple, but it begins with standing in the light and saying "Me, too."

Rather than solidarity, perhaps Me too creates ooey-gooey connections, psychic glue of sorts that shows us how to be soft and brave and vulnerable in each other's arms - dancing together, maybe.  I know I accept you, no matter what.  You are welcome in my dance, and I treasure the moments of vulnerability and joy and tears.  You leave me stronger, able to face the rest of my life...Solidarity seems so tough.  I want to be open...I can't find a word to describe accessible, but not stupid, able to protect self, yet trusting my fellow travelers.

I had a thought I wanted to share and follow, but it has disappeared into...the near future, I hope.  When will you be leaving for Paris?  I think I will probably share some thoughts about the book you gave me.  I have been reading slowly, but there have been a few moments of absolute recognition, and it led to a different understanding.  I will follow this while you are gone - when I get to solo!

Remember I love you, have a beautiful day!

Clare

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