Goals

Tonight, after months (maybe years?) of thinking about it off and on, I have come to realize why I don't let to set goals for myself.

A long while ago I had a really unpleasant and defeating belief that I was lazy. I felt like I didn't get things done when they should be done, whether it was me or someone else or some societal standard (real or imagined) that was creating the "should" part.

In a class I took, I reframed that belief and it became "I happily do things when I am fully ready to do them." That means that yeah, I might have a few days worth of dishes sitting in my sink, but when I do them I am genuinely glad to be doing them and they get done well. I'd much rather that than force myself to wash the dishes and hate every minute of it. I do have a list of things that I would like to get done, with notations of deadlines if there are any, that I work from, but doing things when it feels good or right to do them works much better for me.

So the idea of goals... of saying "I will do such and such a thing by such and such a time" seems like a betrayal of this idea. I mean yeah, some things have deadlines and I can respect that and I am generally good at meeting deadlines; especially if I have a fair bit of advance notice so that I can do the task at a time that feels best for me.

I think I've been judging myself for not being "good" at goals. But ya know... I get things done, on time if there is a time limit, and I enjoy doing what I do. How could I find fault in that?

A Moment of Death

My stepmother, Deborah, died on Monday morning (January 21) after a long (and yet shockingly short) battle with cancer. I had the honor and privilege of witnessing her final days, and then her final moments.

In her final few minutes she lay comfortably in bed, surrounded by her husband, her mother, and her sister (and me). The sensations she felt were their hands caressing her, and the sounds she heard were their words of love. I myself was quiet, reading prayers for the progress of her soul and for the healing of those left in this world without her.

For a while, when we knew that Deborah was living her last few minutes, I felt a heaviness in my chest; a tension. Her breaths came further and further apart, and I felt that the tension was growing. There was a time at around 10:15 when we thought she was gone, but the nurse found that her heart was still beating. The uncomfortable feeling in my chest remained.

Then at 10:17 (I know, I checked the clock) I suddenly felt a lightness and actually began to smile. For nearly a full minute I felt uplifted, the heaviness and tension was gone from my body, my teariness dissipated, and my head felt sunny and glad. I felt the truth of Baha'u'llah's words:

"I have made death a messenger of joy to thee. Wherefore dost thou grieve? I made the light to shed on thee its splendor. Why dost thou veil thyself therefrom?"

A minute later the doctor confirmed that my stepmother had passed away, had ascended into the next world. 

"Bestow upon Thy heavenly handmaiden, O God, the holy fragrances born of the spirit of Thy forgiveness. Cause her to dwell in a blissful abode, heal her griefs with the balm of Thy reunion, and, in accordance with Thy will, grant her admission to Thy holy Paradise. Let the angels of Thy loving-kindness descend successively upon her, and shelter her beneath Thy blessed Tree.

--Abdu'l-Baha

I Exist!

A Man Said to the Universe
by Stephen Crane

A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However, " replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."

Thoughts on Icarus' Adventure

Icarus

i like to think

that when a man is a reduced

to a dusty heap of feathers

he can,

after a time of stitching wounds

and knitting bones,

haul himself to his feet

and limp on

(more steady with each step)

to find something less fickle

to bind his dreams to

to take the leap again

and maybe it doesn't matter

if he ever really flies,

so long as he tries

...and invite them in.

The Guest House 

by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Thou Art

Thou Art

12:40am, 14 December 2012, upon watching the Geminid meteor shower

Shivering

Gazing up

Searching

I see that

Thou art

Thou art

Oh, Thou very art!

Thou art that Thou art.

And why not?

What other reason should there be?

Splendor, glory, beauty, grandeur, light, mercy...

What other why need be fulfilled?

Shivering

Gazing in

Searching

I see that

I am

I am

Oh, would that I am!

I am that I am.

And why not?

What other reason should there be?

Noble, imperishable, hidden, treasured, rebellious, awe-struck...

What other why need be fulfilled?

Special

I have this weird idea that "not unique" means "not challenging."

I shared this thing in my therapy group today that to me feels very big and bad and I have shame around. And someone said (totally from a good place, my reaction is all me) that it didn't seem that different than an activity that a lot of normal people do very regularly and is not at all seen as unusual.

What I heard was "this is just your slightly different way of expressing this common human trait." Which is probably fairly close to what he was trying to say. But then I continued to extrapolate to "therefore, shut up and get over it, everyone deals with this. You wuss."

I've just come from group, and I'm still processing. A lot. A lot of processing. About a lot of stuff. But I wanted to get this thought written before I lose it.

I am both more and less special than I think I am.