Category: deep thoughts

“I gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which I must stop and look fear in the face…I say to myself, I’ve lived through this and can take the next thing that comes along…We must do things we think we cannot do.”
~Eleanor Roosevelt

Two things that made me feel sad today:
1) This boy, who died for want of dental care.
2) This story, about how to prevent rape.

Are there any stories that have made you feel sad today?

Last night when I came out of yoga class I paused at the window of the art gallery next door. There were many beautiful paintings on display.

What caught my eye was a simple painting of a small wooden boat, moored at the edge of a lake. For whatever reason, it seemed the loveliest thing. That boat. Alone.

When I first read Walden back in high school I realized that I was innately a transcendentalist. So today’s quote is to celebrate that moment:

As to conforming outwardly and living your own life inwardly, I do not think much of that.
~Henry David Thoreau

This might just be a record for me: I’ve been insulted and reviled on four different blogs in the last two days and on the way home from class tonight a car-full of young men (undergrads, perhaps–maybe I gave them bad grades in years past??) came up behind me on my bike and yelled in my ear (just about fell off my bikeseat when they did this) and then proceeded to follow me through the next intersection making rude remarks.

Yah whatever.

Somehow it doesn’t really bug me. You know, the “sticks and stones” thing, I suppose. Or maybe it’s a certain devil-may-care attitude that comes from having a physical disability. I’ve been stared at, gestured towards, mimicked, teased, accosted, etc. for so many years that I’m just used to it now.

[Full disclosure: I kifed this book from John’s pile this morning. And I am ‘stealing’ one of its ideas for this post.]

Are you good? Are you bad? A host of consequences hangs on the answer. Yet, a brief experiment can easily convince you that the question, so grave in appearance, has little foundation.

Consider how you spent yesterday. Retrace the main events, how one led to the next, and, as far as possible, reconstruct the thoughts that went with them hour after hour.

From this reconstruction, consider your attitude. Not objectively. In a partial, exagerated, and tendentious way. Note first the extreme magnanimity of your smallest actions. Be a benevolent judge of your innermost thoughts. Look how devoted you have been, how attentive, altruistic, sympathetic, humane, supportive, charitable, etc

And then do exactly the reverse. Force yourself to discern, in your acts and thoughts during that day, the obvious signs of perversity, your ability to harm, your taste for destruction, your fundamental wickedness…

And then, if you have carried this out completely enough, try believing in moral judgements and the searchings of conscience. What have you learned?

A bit of my experience (note: somewhat sanitized to avoid speaking of particular interactions w/ppl who might be reading my blog):
The Saint
In worship yesterday I felt lightness, love, goodness. A closeness with the spirit. I reached out to newcomers after Meeting. I ate lunch with friends and enjoyed their thoughts and their humor. I ate a divinely-tasty egg salad sandwich. I spent time interacting with my kids and John in the afternoon. I did the family’s laundry rather than spending time on my own tasks. Assembled a favorite salad to share with friends at dinnertime. Was gracious to Friends for their hospitality, etc, etc.
The Sinner
Slept in and was grumpy in the morning, as usual. Was testy with John and the kids because I was ready for Meeting before they were. Got to church late, despite having arranged to meet newcomers there beforehand. Resented some disruptions during worship. Had difficulty quieting my mind. Thought mostly of myself and all I want to/need to do. After meeting, left fellowship early to spend time with my friends. Ate egg salad sandwich for lunch w/no remorse about consuming animal protein. After dinner, poked fun of 50s movie and traditional Quakers. Tried to be funnier to impress friends. Thought more about how I was feeling than about others. Didn’t reach out to those I didn’t know well.

Upshot:
More than ever I agree with C.S. Lewis that:

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations–these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit–immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.

It seems to me that we are, all of us, both gods and devils simultaneously. We are selfish and selfless in the same moment. And as such, we should be gentle with judging ourselves, and also with judging others.