What We Carry
May 18, 2009
Just once I wanted a task that required
all the joy I had. . .Having chosen this
foolishness I was a free being. How could
the world ever stop me, how could I betray
myself, if I was not afraid? Annie
Dillard
Bag lady, you gonna hurt your back dragging
all them bags like that. I guess nobody ever
told you, all you must hold onto is you.
Erykah Badu, "Bag Lady"
Two traveling monks reached a river where
they met an attractive young woman waiting to
cross. Wary of the current, she asked if they
would be willing to carry her. One of the
monks hesitated, but the other promptly
picked her up into his arms, transported her
across the river, and put her down, safely on
the other bank. She thanked him and went on
her way.
As the monks walked toward the monastery, one brooded, stewing in the toxic elixir of self-righteousness and envy. After an hour, unable to hold his silence, he spoke. "Brother, our spiritual training teaches us to avoid any contact with women, but you picked her up in your arms, held her very close and carried her!"
"Brother," the second monk replied, "That is all true. But on the other side of the river I set her down. It sounds to me as if you are still carrying her."
Yes, this is a story about sacrificing people for rules, and how our yearning for certainty allows us to see only what we want to see, and how such an effort ties us up into knots.
Although we use the verb "carry," it is a story about how we can be (every one of us) owned or possessed by the things we carry.
Remember when we called it baggage?
Or tapes? (It doesn't quite translate now that we only use CDs, does it?)
You know, all the stuff that made us anxious, and prevented us from being free. Or, at the very least made us buy every self-help book that promised some kind of relief, or a version of an enviable life.
In a bookstore, a clever title caught my eye: Throw Away Fifty Things. A few people came to mind, but it seemed less hassle just to tackle my garage. I found boxes of "indispensable" items. You know, the ones I was certain I would "need" someday. I see them now, and can't remember why. And other items that prompted the age-old question, "I paid money for this?" Long story short: We hauled piles to Granny's (our island equivalent to St. Vincent de Paul). I now have a clean garage. Which qualifies me for some Tidy-Islander-Award I am sure.
But it doesn't address the underlying issue. Like the first monk, we know that most of what we "carry" (whatever preoccupies, worries, vexes) is not even real. Whatever it is, it possesses us. And the next thing you know, it's ingrained or tattooed on our soul.
Like the worried monk, there are times when I carry a life that does not even belong to me.
My friend Celia Whitler (celiamusic.net) is a songwriter and a storyteller. And like me, travels around talking about the Good News. Two weeks ago she was leading a women's retreat on Mother's Day. Apparently, it troubled a few women, who, like the first monk, made their dismay all too clear. "Oh my, Celia, you are missing being with your family and on Mothers Day."
Celia told me, "After about the tenth comment, I was like OK, enough already. So I said to them, 'This is bothering you a whole lot more than me. When my boys get in the car tomorrow we'll play, and really everyday is mothers day for me.' One woman looked at me like I had lost my mind. And for a second, I believed the lie. I believed that my life as a mother should look like all these other woman's lives. But that's wrong; my life should not look like theirs, it should look like mine. So I will celebrate all that it is, and all that it's not, and God will make up the difference!"
We all carry that fusion (or muddle). There is stuff we carry that brings delight. And there are a few things that bring regret. Maybe that's the weight: an expectation that I am to be somebody other than who I am today. That my value is conditional upon performance. That I am loved, or somebody, because I keep the rules, or play the role, or worry about what others think.
The unfortunate consequence?
This weight (like the first monk carried) means that we are no longer free.
To risk.
Or try.
Or give.
Or celebrate.
Or love.
In her extraordinary book The Drama of the Gifted Child, Alice Miller writes, "What would have happened if I had appeared before you, bad, ugly, angry, jealous, lazy, dirty, smelly? Where would your love have been then? And I was all these things as well. Does this mean that it was not really me whom you loved, but only what I pretended to be? The well-behaved, reliable, empathic, understanding, and convenient child, who in fact was never a child at all?"
This weight is heavier when we believe we are all alone in working it out. If you haven't seen the movie Doubt, see it. In his first homily, the priest talks about doubt. But notes that the real burden is not doubt, but isolation, assuming that we are all alone in this. As if I am living in a glass house. On the outside, I see only happy contented faces (you know, the one's who have it all figured out). On the inside, there is just me.
Today is crystal clear. We have a springtime air that, literally, like grace, envelops you for no real reason. The air itself is a narcotic, inducing a slower pace. Every now and again I stop what I'm doing, and just stare at the sky. I know I was on my way to something, but can't quite remember what. Weeding one of the garden beds, I start singing (in my best Louie Armstrong voice), "What a wonderful world." My cats don't know what to make of it, but they seem unimpressed.
There is a time here in the northwest when the light remains beyond the Olympic mountain range for a good long while after twilight. It looks like a great fire rages far off to the west, and the sky glows neon and hot. Above the mountains there are swirls and layers of pink and indigo.
I do know this. Whatever I carried, I put it down for the evening. And I celebrated the gift of this day.
News and Notes from Terry
1. Coming This Summer: THE RELAX, REFUEL, RESTART RETREAT.
Don't miss it.
Begin making plans to attend.
Sign up now for the early registration special price.
www.loyolapress.com/relax
The Relax, Refuel, Restart Retreat is a great way for parish / church leaders, for your leadership team, for key lay-leaders, for anyone in parish / church ministry to rest, re-energize, and take steps to find balance in their busy lives. Find the city in your area and bring your entire parish / church leadership team! You will not want to miss this day.
Call 773-281-1818 x 287
2. Terry's new CDs, Born to Dance and Sabbath Moments are HERE. To those who have purchased them, they are being shipped this week. If you have not yet purchased Terry's new CDs, they will be available on the website.
As the monks walked toward the monastery, one brooded, stewing in the toxic elixir of self-righteousness and envy. After an hour, unable to hold his silence, he spoke. "Brother, our spiritual training teaches us to avoid any contact with women, but you picked her up in your arms, held her very close and carried her!"
"Brother," the second monk replied, "That is all true. But on the other side of the river I set her down. It sounds to me as if you are still carrying her."
Yes, this is a story about sacrificing people for rules, and how our yearning for certainty allows us to see only what we want to see, and how such an effort ties us up into knots.
Although we use the verb "carry," it is a story about how we can be (every one of us) owned or possessed by the things we carry.
Remember when we called it baggage?
Or tapes? (It doesn't quite translate now that we only use CDs, does it?)
You know, all the stuff that made us anxious, and prevented us from being free. Or, at the very least made us buy every self-help book that promised some kind of relief, or a version of an enviable life.
In a bookstore, a clever title caught my eye: Throw Away Fifty Things. A few people came to mind, but it seemed less hassle just to tackle my garage. I found boxes of "indispensable" items. You know, the ones I was certain I would "need" someday. I see them now, and can't remember why. And other items that prompted the age-old question, "I paid money for this?" Long story short: We hauled piles to Granny's (our island equivalent to St. Vincent de Paul). I now have a clean garage. Which qualifies me for some Tidy-Islander-Award I am sure.
But it doesn't address the underlying issue. Like the first monk, we know that most of what we "carry" (whatever preoccupies, worries, vexes) is not even real. Whatever it is, it possesses us. And the next thing you know, it's ingrained or tattooed on our soul.
Like the worried monk, there are times when I carry a life that does not even belong to me.
My friend Celia Whitler (celiamusic.net) is a songwriter and a storyteller. And like me, travels around talking about the Good News. Two weeks ago she was leading a women's retreat on Mother's Day. Apparently, it troubled a few women, who, like the first monk, made their dismay all too clear. "Oh my, Celia, you are missing being with your family and on Mothers Day."
Celia told me, "After about the tenth comment, I was like OK, enough already. So I said to them, 'This is bothering you a whole lot more than me. When my boys get in the car tomorrow we'll play, and really everyday is mothers day for me.' One woman looked at me like I had lost my mind. And for a second, I believed the lie. I believed that my life as a mother should look like all these other woman's lives. But that's wrong; my life should not look like theirs, it should look like mine. So I will celebrate all that it is, and all that it's not, and God will make up the difference!"
We all carry that fusion (or muddle). There is stuff we carry that brings delight. And there are a few things that bring regret. Maybe that's the weight: an expectation that I am to be somebody other than who I am today. That my value is conditional upon performance. That I am loved, or somebody, because I keep the rules, or play the role, or worry about what others think.
The unfortunate consequence?
This weight (like the first monk carried) means that we are no longer free.
To risk.
Or try.
Or give.
Or celebrate.
Or love.
In her extraordinary book The Drama of the Gifted Child, Alice Miller writes, "What would have happened if I had appeared before you, bad, ugly, angry, jealous, lazy, dirty, smelly? Where would your love have been then? And I was all these things as well. Does this mean that it was not really me whom you loved, but only what I pretended to be? The well-behaved, reliable, empathic, understanding, and convenient child, who in fact was never a child at all?"
This weight is heavier when we believe we are all alone in working it out. If you haven't seen the movie Doubt, see it. In his first homily, the priest talks about doubt. But notes that the real burden is not doubt, but isolation, assuming that we are all alone in this. As if I am living in a glass house. On the outside, I see only happy contented faces (you know, the one's who have it all figured out). On the inside, there is just me.
Today is crystal clear. We have a springtime air that, literally, like grace, envelops you for no real reason. The air itself is a narcotic, inducing a slower pace. Every now and again I stop what I'm doing, and just stare at the sky. I know I was on my way to something, but can't quite remember what. Weeding one of the garden beds, I start singing (in my best Louie Armstrong voice), "What a wonderful world." My cats don't know what to make of it, but they seem unimpressed.
There is a time here in the northwest when the light remains beyond the Olympic mountain range for a good long while after twilight. It looks like a great fire rages far off to the west, and the sky glows neon and hot. Above the mountains there are swirls and layers of pink and indigo.
I do know this. Whatever I carried, I put it down for the evening. And I celebrated the gift of this day.
News and Notes from Terry
1. Coming This Summer: THE RELAX, REFUEL, RESTART RETREAT.
Don't miss it.
Begin making plans to attend.
Sign up now for the early registration special price.
www.loyolapress.com/relax
The Relax, Refuel, Restart Retreat is a great way for parish / church leaders, for your leadership team, for key lay-leaders, for anyone in parish / church ministry to rest, re-energize, and take steps to find balance in their busy lives. Find the city in your area and bring your entire parish / church leadership team! You will not want to miss this day.
Call 773-281-1818 x 287
2. Terry's new CDs, Born to Dance and Sabbath Moments are HERE. To those who have purchased them, they are being shipped this week. If you have not yet purchased Terry's new CDs, they will be available on the website.
Poems / Prayers
What a Wonderful World
www.youtube.com
Music to lift the spirit and the soul.
playingforchange.com
New Terry Hershey videos
http://www.terryhershey.com
Thank you, my fate
Great humility fills me,
Great purity fills me,
I make love with my dear
As if I made love dying
As if I made love praying,
Tears pour
Over my arms and his arms.
I don't know whether this is joy
Or sadness, I don't understand
What I feel, I'm crying,
As if I were dead,
Gratitude, I thank you, my fate,
I'm unworthy, how beautiful
My life.
Anna Swir
My prayer for you is that you determine in your heart and mind to go into 2009 free and determined to take steps towards walking in the footsteps that only you were designed to walk in.
Free up your hands so that you may waive them in victory over something that has been binding you up in the past.
Free up your heart so that you may love and receive love the way you desire.
Free up your mind so that you are clear about the direction your life is taking.
Free up your time so that when opportunity comes, you are ready to walk in it.
Free up the limitations you have imposed on yourself and walk boldly towards your heart's desires.
We must learn to let go, to give up, to make room for the things we have prayed for and desired. Charles Fillmore
From InstituteofSelfDiscovery.com
Peace,
Terry Hershey
