I hope this holiday season brings you closer to your own song. It can be so hard to hear some days, particularly when caregiving and as we try to be so many things and for so many people. The shadow side of love and generosity is giving more than we may have to offer at any given time. When we show up to be present for another’s needs or suffering without first being present with our own, we risk disconnection from ourselves and encounter an imbalance which can leave us feeling more helpless and bereft. This is not a time to judge ourselves. Wanting to provide relief is noble and kind, and yet it may be something much deeper than the relief we are seeking to soothe and protect; something closer to worthiness. When we are hard on ourselves for not being able to show up the ways we’d like to, or feel the way we’d like to, it’s helpful to gently inquire if we are truly okay with not being okay? Can we tolerate another’s pain and simply be with them, without offering anything beyond our present listening? Can we do this for ourselves? Ultimately, as the poet suggests, this is the most essential act of being present for the people we care about. It’s in the clearing where we will recognize what we need, as well as the seeds of knowing and trusting what to do next.
There is something draining and transactional about an offering which feels met with expectation, even when that expectation is our own, unexpressed or unconsciously. There can be fear underneath a desire to connect and be helpful, especially when we hope to quell any difficulty within ourselves or difficulty which is not ours to fix. As the poet suggests, this world is so worthy of rescue. Though as individuals, despite our behaviors at times, we do not need a rescue. What we really need is to feel safe, to feel heard and to be met consistently with presence. In this way, we are whole and worthy without needing any answers or offerings. It’s also a willingness to be seen and to be met as someone who also experiences suffering. This is the difference between sympathy and compassion. Our pain exposes so many vulnerabilities we’d rather hide, though it shows us something universal, deeply connecting and honest about who we are and how we can compassionately respond to others and the people we love.
As the poem beautifully illustrates, it is in the quiet clearing of our inner life where we learn to listen and cultivate the strength to know our song - or as I interpret this to mean - how to be a safe and grounded person; for ourselves, others and in the world. The hard truth is, we don’t know what is best for other people. Honestly, we’re not always good at knowing this for ourselves! And we are particularly bad at guessing what others are thinking and how others really feel. And that’s okay. The safest people are those who understand this, who don’t assume and who know how to return to their clearing. They listen to harmonize. Deeply respecting one's own song (our desires and needs) while caring about another’s is a sign of balance and wellbeing. This fosters more peace and connection in the midst of any struggle and suffering. Wait there patiently, until the song that is yours alone to sing falls into your open cupped hands.
Who and what do you turn toward in your life to hear your song? To sing it back when you need help remembering? Is this something you can also provide to yourself?
It has become a tradition in December, in the monthly Catching Your Breath program, to write a letter to ourselves reviewing the past year, acknowledging growth and challenges, sorrows and sufferings, triumphs and treasures. It’s a deepening practice which, when approached seriously and contemplatively, affirms aspects of our experience easily lost in the dense wooded areas of our daily lives. I invite you to do this for yourself, to settle into a quiet and protected space for 15 minutes or a ½ hour and simply begin writing with the word Dear, followed by your own name. Proceed patiently by first thanking yourself for all the ways you have shown up for yourself this year and also, for the people you love. Explore times when it wasn’t clear what to do and how you responded and what you learned. Consider the twists and turns, and the surprises too. Be kind and offer yourself encouragement. There are endless prompts, though I invite you to simply see where it takes you. Hopefully, much closer to the clearing in the dense forest of your life.
