delara, interrupted

I just found this poem I wrote quite a while ago:

in waking, i sleep --
impotent, lifeless body.

in awakening, i see things i never dreamed of
and then i dream of things i'd like to see --

to be.

and i become.

It reminded me of this concept I've been tossing around in my head lately - the idea of co-creating my life.

There are huge blocks of time in my life for which I cannot account. It’s not that they never happened, and I have some memory of what was happening generally in my life during those times. But I am fuzzy on the details to the point of feeling strongly as though I was sleepwalking through those days, months… years even. Sad.

I feel sad about those years because I feel like I missed out. I feel like I was absent from my own life – like I was missing my own birthday party. If there was an emotion to be felt, I didn’t get to feel it. If there was a dream to be had, it escaped my subconscious. If there was a new thought, understanding or epiphany nascent in my mind, it remained stifled. And I remained stagnant.

Why was that so? Why was I asleep? I just can’t fathom it. I was connected spiritually, was I not? I was praying every day, I was attending holy day commemorations, I was actively engaged in service to humanity, I was “doing my work” on myself and in my life. Yet, I’m not sure who was in the driver’s seat at that time. So, what’s the story?

There is a quote from The Hidden Words that resonates strongly for me:

O MAN OF TWO VISIONS! Close one eye and open the other. Close one to the world and all that is therein, and open the other to the hallowed beauty of the Beloved. (Bahá'u'lláh, The Persian Hidden Words)

What I can say is that we have (er, correction - I have) interesting concepts about what “the world” entails and what is encompassed by “the hallowed beauty.” For so long, I believed that the world only referred to material things, and because I didn’t consider myself to be materialistic (indeed, compared to many I’m not) I thought I was clear of worldly things. And because I was prayerful and trying so hard to align my life with my understanding of the spiritual and social laws of this day, I thought I was clearly focused on the hallowed beauty.

But… the world entails so much more than materialism alone. In fact, one of the deadliest forms of materialism is our lack of belief in our true nature – our spiritual nature. After all, we are, at our core, spiritual beings. It’s what separates us from the animal kingdom. I am continually amazed at how often we forget who we really are and what perfect reflections of “the hallowed beauty” we can be when we actively keep the dust off the mirror.

What is that saying? “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” Isn’t dust, then, part of “this world?” Indeed.

I don’t know exactly when it was born in my life, but somewhere along the way I caked on thick layers of dust on my spiritual mirror. I developed the belief that I was not allowed to be happy, that it was forbidden for me in some way. I also believed I was not good enough. In almost every way, I would always fall short. Even if only in my own mind. These are some pretty persistent layers of dust and are very, very much a part of this world as they do not at all represent the spirit of love that animates the spiritual world and with which we were created.

You know that “footprints in the sand” poem? Yeah, you know it. You’ve seen it engraved on a plaque in someone’s home, on a greeting card given to you during a trying time, or maybe printed as an overlay on a photograph of a beach with waves gently lapping on the shore. As I re-read my poem and reflected on the quote from The Hidden Words, I thought of the footprints and I thought about what it meant to be awake, present and actively engaged in walking my life’s path. I thought about what it might mean to be able to see, at every turn, two sets of footprints in the sand behind me.

This past weekend, I visited a very special place called the Stone Door in the South Cumberland State Park area. I have always felt a strong connection to nature and a sense of inner peace whenever I immerse myself in it. This sojourn into nature was different somehow. I was giddy and energetic. Every breath I took seemed to refresh and revive me internally. I felt… alive. Alive in that way a seven year old feels alive when they’re running at top speed through a grassy meadow on a sunny day. And I felt present, awake, serene in my trust in God, active in my consciousness of every precious moment I was living.

I felt as though I was walking hand in hand with God and together we were laying the bricks for my life’s path, co-creating a tapestry that reflects the delicate balance between actively engaging my will and submitting it to His.

When I envision that beach on which I am walking with the Divine Creator, I imagine walking hand in hand, side by side – like a little girl holding the hand of her Father and laughing with excitement and élan.

Posted by Delara at 09:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Why I am happy:

I've been listening to my heart a lot lately. And I like what it has to say.

I ate well. In other words, I did not have any Krispy Kreme donuts nor any dairy today.

I made excellent efforts to stay productive. Even though I successfully procrastinated a pretty important "to do." There's always tomorrow, eh?

I bought the new Keane album!!!

I have been walking my path with integrity and have been true to what I believe in life, my faith and spirituality.

I booked all necessary travel arrangements for the wedding of the year. Woo hoo!

I cleaned my kitchen and did two loads of laundry.

I told 5 people how much I love them.

Posted by Delara at 11:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

“There are seasons, in human affairs, of inward and outward revolutions, when new depths seem to be broken up in the soul, when new wants are unfolded in multitudes, and a new and undefined good is thirsted for. There are periods when to dare, is the highest wisdom.” (William Ellery Channing)

I have a list of words. I know, that sounds odd. What’s new? It’s a list of words I love: words that sound good to hear, that feel good to say, and that have “kind of cool” definitions, as StrongBad might say. It’s a very long list. It includes words like revolution, thirst and synecdoche. I admit that I’m a nerd and a logophile. What can I say? (Lots, actually. Haha.) I am fascinated by language and how we use it. It ought not to be a surprise to anyone to know that the out-of-print English Review Grammar by Walter Kay Smart is among my top five favorite books. Ever. I have two copies of it. No, really I do.

Recently, I have been reflecting quite a bit on the word synecdoche. Kind of sounds like the city in New York. And now begins our English lesson for the week…

For background, metonymy describes a figurative expression in which we use one word or expression in replacement of another with an associated meaning. It is a replacive relationship. So, for example, in the metonymic phrase “the pen is mightier than the sword,” (all you SNL “Jeopardy” sketch fans, hold your laughter,) the words “pen” and “sword” replace the broader concepts of publishing/writing and military force. Another example of metonymy is, “that car rear-ended me,” where me = my car. We say this stuff all the time, yo.

Synecdoche is a specific kind of metonymy in which a part is used to signify the whole or vice versa. So, an example of synecdoche is “lend me your ears” where ears signify the greater concept of hearing, or “all hands on deck” where hands (being parts of the body) represent the crew members on a ship.

While I love to just say the word synecdoche because it’s fun, the concept of using a part to replace the whole intrigues me. It resonates very strongly for me when I reflect upon the last six+ years of my life—at least up to the point at which I had both an “inward and outward revolution,” as Channing so eloquently put it.

It occurs to me that we often use synecdoche in reference to people in our lives. I may introduce Lacey as a newlywed, for example. Or I may say Andrew is an artist. And while I know these are simply ways of identifying aspects of personality, identity or interests of people, it is so easy for us to allow these parts of people to signify the whole in general. So easy, and so dangerous at times.

For a long time, I resisted the concept of being called someone’s “wife.” To be perfectly honest, the word creeped me out. For real. This is insanely ironic when you consider the fact that from the age of 15 or so I had dreamed of getting married and being a wife. But when it came right down to it, I didn’t like the idea of being someone’s wife. And I really didn’t like the word. Nor did I like the title “Mrs.” so I refused to use it. That stems more from the fact that I understood it to be a contraction for “Mister’s,” indicating possession by marriage. (It’s really short for Mistress, but still…)

To me, being someone’s wife was a kind of synecdoche—I held onto the concept as though it represented the whole of me. I took it very seriously and invested HEAPS of energy, time and focus into being what I defined as a good wife, primarily because marriage and family were vitally important to me (and still are) on a principle level. I defined myself as though being a wife was the same thing as being me, giving it a complex set of sub-categories like lover, confidante, helpmate, spiritual companion, friend, and so on. But all those mini-roles added up to being someone’s wife. And on some deeper level, I had a problem with that.

There is a quote about marriage I read once a long time ago that has always moved me conceptually and spiritually. It refers to the way in which the union between a man and woman creates a “third and subtle entity” that must needs be continually nurtured and developed. (Of course, for the life of me I can’t find the reference to that specific quote now! So, if you’ve got it, pass it on.) I love the idea that the coming together of two individuals—rather than creating a fused amalgam in which neither is easily identifiable—creates a third entity, almost like a lovechild, that doesn’t take away from or diminish either individual. David Schnarch describes a process called differentiation that involves a balance between two basic life forces: the drive for individuality and the drive for togetherness. Through the creation of a third entity, this balance is, perhaps, more elegantly supported and maintained. When we fuse completely with another person, however, the balance is upset. And then we don’t like the idea of being someone’s wife.

It is much easier to succumb to this kind of emotional fusion when we don’t know ourselves very well or when we haven’t really learned how to stand on our own two feet and really be OK with ourselves. And I mean OK in a way that is unshakable, in a way that honors and recognizes our innate nobility as God’s creation, in a way that acknowledges we were meant to be perfectly imperfect by design. When we don’t know ourselves, we are apt to meander off the path onto avenues that do not serve us very well, even though they look so pretty at first glance. When we don’t know ourselves, we are likely to replace the whole with a part, for a short period of time or for a lifetime. And although literary synecdoche is viable and even clever at times, human synecdoche misses the mark and denies our elegant complexity, keeping us apart from the whole of what we know to be true in our heart.

Posted by Delara at 02:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

you put the paintbrush to me,
your canvas

life just underneath the surface
burgeoning
a thin veil between the tip of the brush and the vitality within

then the colors touch
first the blues, then the reds and finally the greens

delicate strokes of creation

and as they begin to bleed into the layers just below the surface,
shapes take form,
undulating outlines emerge

life...

an exquisite being

you create and i respond in kind
you paint and i become

and while the paint is still wet,
the life within begins to take its own shape,
pushing colors here and there
choosing the
perfect arrangement
that sings your
praise

Posted by Delara at 11:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)