The hurdles of distance!

It was a cold January morning and we had been hit by an ice-storm. I finished up the last round of packing in between admiring the icicles that hung from the tree tops. The roads were iced and the drive was nasty but it was a pre-scheduled day for moving and the movers did show up as promised! 

I directed them excitedly in our new home, ensuring that the right boxes were placed in the right rooms to make unpacking easier. Our phone lines were in and I eagerly called my mother back in India. I decided to downplay the difficulty of the move due to the weather as she was likely to stay up worrying. My mom sounded pensive, Ajji, my grandmother had passed away that very morning.

The tiles of my brand new kitchen were cold and I stood upon them barefooted, "Miss, where would you like this box?"asked one of the movers as I stood with the phone to my ear. My grandmother had lived with our family growing up, I had known her quiet intimately for some twenty odd years."You can put that down in the family room!" I directed him. The movers hurried with the boxes as the weather got nastier, my grieving had to wait, wait for a convenient moment. 

Soon I would discover this would become the new normal, there would be others, whom I would say goodbye to while being busy with my work. Its not that I'm uncaring but calling for attention feels superfluous and my mourning has always been a bit private.

This last year I heard my mother convey the news of her sister passing away and I felt sorrowful. With my children growing up it feels like I have additional shoulders to lean on. I described to them the tragic life of my late aunt who had a baby and was widowed  at the tender age of fourteen. She died in her eighties and never remarried. My children have doubts, "why not? "In those days they were not allowed" I reply. "How about a boyfriend?" , they question? I laugh at their ridiculousness! "Don't worry, there are no rules in heaven, your aunt is probably enjoying the company of a real good-looking man right now!" ensures my younger one!  I've raised them as such, free spirited thinkers, making decisions of their own, and I am amused! But her words would be blasphemy elsewhere!

I imagine deep sorrow in my mother's heart, she cared for her sister and enjoyed her presence when she visited. Like all younger siblings she sought out her approval and my aunt's praises meant a lot to her. 

While I have suddenly arrived at the scene of my aunt passing away, my mother has seen the day coming for years together. This time I call my mother to tell her that I'm sorry, I have made the time and am willing to stay on the line for as long as she needs me. But my mother has a plane to catch and a funeral to attend, one that she's been ready for- given her sisters age and health. She asks me to get a grip and take care of my children, she promises she will call back later. 

I hang up and look into the empty house, not fully sure if I want to cry or if I want to laugh, I smile stupidly! There are bills to pay and groceries that need to be bought, I leave my home as I greet my neighbor."How are you?", she asks. "I'm good!", I reply!

I will not tell you that traveling back each time will bring closure. Its impossible to say goodbye! At least not until you can talk about your relationship with another in all its honesty, acknowledge all of the expectations, ponder on those disappointments and cherish with love all those special moments of pure wonder. I knew a whole lot of people growing up, there are only a handful that I can invite to such sharing. I know a lot of people now and still there are only a handful that I can invite to such sharing.

I wait for my mother to call me back, we will each unburden our thoughts and feelings, laugh at the absurdity of our lives and hold our hearts when we need comfort. I feel grateful suddenly!

The critic inside!

Change is always disconcerting! It challenges status quo and even when it promises to simply better our lives, we find ourselves fearful.

Over the years my resistance to change has gotten progressively worse. These days I find myself avoiding an unfamiliar grocery store - something about having to find my way around a different store unnerves me! I feel like I’m in a foreign country with maps, travel guides and what have you! I find myself apologizing profusely if my cart were to get in the way of others, like I am occupying some territory that belongs to them and am unwelcome.  

As such, I choose to live carefully! I drive on the same scenic roads, go to the same movies, order the same dish in specific restaurants, feel comforted by familiar check-out clerks and generally establish a routine quickly!

When I signed up for a meditation class focusing on self-compassion, I didn’t imagine that it would alter my course significantly! Asked to speak of my intention in class, I mentioned truthfully that I have a well-established meditation practice and that I am open to see what else I could learn. In my mind, I was mostly reiterating known practices and I wasn’t in it for some deep down dirty work! After all how hard could self-compassion be?

Turns out that it is pretty challenging!

A fairly introverted human, I sat in class with a familiar voice inside of me goading me to open up and participate or risk being labeled dumb, this same voice is ever prevalent, she is unforgiving of my smallest and most unintended slights. I get easily rebuked, for not showing up to an appointment on time, for not planning out my day to get maximum work done, for not finding the time to exercise, for not eating right, for not taking the dog out for a walk, for not preparing a nutritious meal for the children, for not calling my parents, for not keeping the house clean and when the house is clean she moves her intimidating gaze to the unclean floor of the garage or to the weeds in the yard and then onto the empty bird feeder that she disapproves. So as it is clear that she is dissatisfied, unrelenting and persistent!

I am intrigued that this class provides me with an alternative! The alternative of replacing this judgmental voice with a more compassionate and kind one!  A voice that will allow me to live as a human - with all my imperfections, failures and disappointments! For perfection is in my imagination and is not an achievable outcome!

Change is scary! My inner critic is scared!

I have been warned that with kindness I cannot accomplish half of the million things I set out to do each morning! I have been cautioned that compassion is not something that is to be exercised upon the self! I received notification that if I change anything at all then I would surely collapse and die! I have been advised that a known devil is better than an unknown angel!

But I desire to be enough! Enough in my own imperfect self!

It is my own voice, this voice of the inner critic and I have lived with her forever! I cannot label her as redundant or cruel. She has held my hand in times of despair, demanding that I put one foot before the other so that I walk out of the tunnel of darkness. She has urged me to stay put in my own path when I have been ridiculed. She has ensured that I stand up and face the challenges that have come my way. She has been a friend in unfriendly times and for that I am grateful!

Somewhere along the way, I forgot, I forgot that her words were only words of advice and that I could make a call for kindness towards myself several times. So I have decided to change! I have decided to hold myself with caring compassion as I trip and fall each and every day. Because even when I’ve not always succeeded I have always tried to do the right thing!

Keeping the windows open!

It is time to draw back the curtains and peek at what we wish to hide!

I have found myself scavenging for a hint of goodness! Savage killing makes me nauseous and I have always been scared of war. Therefore the news of the dog abandoned at the train station finding a home, the clip on Target employees helping out a young teenager with his job interview or the article our good friend has written about his recent mission, are examples of how I wish to greet the world each morning. 

Today I woke up curious! How is it that humans are capable of inhumanity? How is it that crime can be routinized, recorded and replayed without revulsion? Is it certain societies alone that can be lenient towards such evil manifestations? Are we safe from our own barbarity? Has there been in written history, a continent that has not suffered from such evil?

I cannot pretend to have an answer. I cannot bear to share the grief of families that are stricken. It seems to me that when the very first humans sat down contemplating human civilization they might have passed onto us the laws, the codes, the routines and forgotten to hand down their 'reflection'. The capacity to envision how individual life and choices affect the whole. The capacity to imagine that crimes against the plural will erode every individual around the globe and that atrocities against a singular human asks for collective response from the whole.

It is perhaps time to bring in the forgotten disciplines of judicial thinking, moot courts and philosophy into everyday lessons, so that the thinkers of the past are not simply stoop squatting ancestors who had nothing better to do but were men desiring a society based upon reflective action.  If the only thing we can influence is that which is before us then we need to ensure that our children are not memorizing rote facts but are reflecting upon critical distancing, moral responsibility and disasters of blind obedience especially in times of war.