betrayal

Catch Our Breath – Day 772

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Rays of… – Photo: L. Weikel

Catch Our Breath

We keep thinking we’ve reached our limit. Maybe I should speak for myself. I keep thinking we’ve reached our limit. In this season in which we’re encouraged to withdraw into the comfort and warmth of our homes and the company of our nearest and dearest, surely we’ll be given a reprieve. Surely we’ll receive a moment to catch our breath, a few days of calm and quiet reflection when we can simply allow ourselves to be.

2020 has been a year beyond measure. We’ve endured twelve months that have included at least four separate monumental societal events that each could have separately defined an era, much less a year. And yet here we are again.

The year we are bringing to a conclusion right now is merely the capstone to a four year period that has tested our mettle and forced us, time and time again, to trust. Trust in the rule of law. Trust in the integrity of those called to serve in the highest places of power within our government. Trust in the inherent goodness of people called to public service. Trust in the wisdom of our fellow Americans to use their power wisely and restore integrity and justice for all of us – but especially those most vulnerable among us.

Trust

I think that’s what’s been the hardest part about not only 2020 itself, but also this entire past four years. Our trust has sustained a mortal wound.

The question is whether we can come back from the brink of despair and heal ourselves and each other.

It’s funny. With the arrival of the solstice yesterday, I was reflecting upon how I spent the solstice last year. It was a far cry from a magical appearance of the Star of Bethlehem, as I experienced yesterday.

Instead, it was the beginning of a series of betrayals that broke my trust in several people I never expected would act in such a way.

But I guess that’s what we’ve all been learning this year, is it not? Who would ever have believed the extent of the breach of trust that all of us have sustained this past year, ranging from the President right down to our nearest and dearest, including those we see at the grocery store or go to church with on Sunday.

It’s something we all need to just stop, catch our breath, and have a good think about. Because this is unsustainable.

Half Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-339)

Falling Down and Getting Up – Day 456

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Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

Falling Down and Getting Up

I picked up a book today that’s been half stuffed under my bed for, dare I guess, at least six months or so. My box of tissues had slid off and I could see one of the words of the title: Exquisite. What a delicious word.

The book isThe Exquisite Risk – Daring to Live an Authentic Life*. It’s written by Mark Nepo, an author whose words unfailingly resonate deep within my heart. In fact, I often begin my Listening Retreats with a quote from one of his other books, Seven Thousand Ways to Listen – Staying Close to What Is Sacred*.

Opening the book randomly to a vignette entitled “Falling Down and Getting Up,” I was captivated by the first few sentences:

“When medieval monks were asked how they practiced their faith, they would often reply, ‘By falling down and getting up.’ And there you have the whole muddled mess of being human. Over and over, this very humbling sequence returns us to the earth, to the humus, to the soil. (…)

“How we think about this matters. For falling down is not about failure, but about experiencing as many of life’s positions as possible. It is how we learn. And getting up is not about vanquishing or conquering an opponent or circumstance, but about not getting stuck in one of life’s innumerable valleys.”

Tests and Choices of Friendship – and Life

Sometimes tests come in unexpected and seemingly random moments. Situations arise that ordinarily would appear or sound utterly absurd but, for whatever reason, don the cloak of plausibility for the briefest of moments – and that moment (and our choice) changes everything.

We’re all given options. Choices to tumble into and remain stuck in valleys of ugliness and choices to open our eyes, look up, and wipe the muck from our eyes. Choices to see what is and has been in our hearts, and choices to see, perhaps, what never actually was.

I’m sure it’s been rather obvious that I recently tumbled into a valley of despair and disbelief, discovering betrayal is alive and well in the world (as if we need any reminders). Sadly, betrayal can come in the dual form of both the speaker of lies and those who would listen to those poisonous words and accept them as true without discernment.

Choosing the Mountain

When I discovered this specific passage today, I knew it was confirming what I’d already experienced. I’d just encountered the balm of deep friendship, of knowing my heart was seen – and known – by another. I’d chosen, by simply reaching out, to rise from that valley, regaining my preferred perch with its expansive, honest, and open-hearted view.

It’s amazing what loving kindness can reveal. It’s equally or perhaps even more amazing what lies – and the willingness to believe them – can reveal.

Knowledge is power, though.

Listening to the Voice Inside

Just in flicking randomly through this gift from under my bed, I discovered the following words, which also speak to my recent experiences:

“Whenever you put your ear to the earth or to your own heart, the deeper instruments play, swelling our sense of things. When lost, we simply have to remember to put our ear to the earth, or to our heart, and we will hear a warmth that guides.”

Listening with our whole beings. Listening to our hearts, to the earth, to our own deepest knowing. We all fall, we all make mistakes, we all get lost; none of us is perfect.

Listening, though, helps us make the choice to get back up.

Perspective – Photo: L. Weikel

*affiliate link

(T-655)

Bummer – Day 320

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September Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

Bummer

I wasn’t going to write about this tonight, but I have to tell you: it’s not easy coming up with something to write about every night. And that holds especially true when something kind of crappy happened during my day and it’s sort of the only thing that’s occupying my mind.

Well, there are a couple of understatements: ‘kind of crappy’ and ‘sort of the only thing that’s occupying my mind.’

I realize, believe me, that facing the fact that my car has two tires in the junk yard is a miniscule concern compared to so much of what so many other people are dealing with. I know that. But that doesn’t mean this isn’t big in my world at the moment.

Regardless, There’s No Comparison

Yeah, I write the words contained in that paragraph, above, but truthfully they ring hollow. Yeah, it stinks that my car is essentially irreparable and may conk out at any moment – and in such a manner as to render me stranded and the vehicle worthless.

But aren’t I lucky that I have the knowledge, in my back pocket, that I have AAA? Yes. I am.

And aren’t I lucky that I have the knowledge, deep within myself, that I will manifest a new car? Yes, I am.

So I call bullshit on myself.

There are simply so many things going on in the lives of people all around me, people I love and care about, people who are blood family and people who are Spirit family, people I don’t know well and those I don’t know at all, that are far worse than my car wearing out. Indeed, the very fact that I was able to take care of my car for 15 years, eke out 311,241 miles (and counting, if only by the hour!) out of her, and not have a car payment for ten years is amazing.

So, no.

Everything has a season – Photo: L. Weikel

Listening and Perspective

Because listening is so sacred to me, and because it is probably the greatest aspect of myself I can give to those around me, I can safely say that a day doesn’t go by that I don’t extend it to someone – at least one person – every day.

And lately, especially, I’ve noticed that there is a lot of upheaval in the world. People’s lives are being upended in astonishing ways: loss of loved ones (human and otherwise), profound betrayals and ugly realizations, prolonged struggles with depression and pernicious recurrences of hopelessness and despair. Fear of losing a job or the business that’s been cultivated for decades. Loneliness – even when surrounded by people or in long-term relationships that died long ago.

And of course on the world stage, there are people realizing the jig may be up – on so many levels and in so many life-altering ways.

All I Have

Meanwhile, here I am, enjoying so much. My family. My friends. My amazing four legged loves. The birds that frequent my feeders or soar above me when I ask for a message, or reveal themselves as I sit by the creek. My beloved Tohickon and the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River). My work and the amazing people I get to meet through what I do. My health.

Yes, I’m mostly speaking in generalities because to be specific feels like bragging, and that’s quite honestly the last thing I’m intending in this post.

How could I look at tonight’s sky and remain upset over my car? How could I, when I was able to walk with my best friend as the colors of the sunset deepened into an indigo that was hard to describe?

I couldn’t.

(T-791)

Losing Trust – Day Thirty

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Losing Trust

If you’d asked me this morning what I would be writing about this evening, trust – or more accurately, losing trust , would not have been top of my list. Not to say trust doesn’t figure prominently in my life; it does. I just wouldn’t have thought I’d be bringing the topic up again quite so quickly since my last post about it.

But here it is, the clock is ticking relentlessly toward the witching hour, and I have only just now managed to get to my MacBook Air (not my Dell, notably!) to write this post.

Trust me (no pun intended), this will not be a long one.

Losing Trust Makes Us Feel Vulnerable and Foolish

Part of my agitation in writing this particular entry is that I happened upon information this evening, out there on the “internets,” that caused me to feel as though the floor had dropped out from under me.

No, I didn’t catch my husband cheating or doing anything nefarious, nor did I discover anything horrible about any of my sons or loved ones that would wreck my world. Or at least my world view.

But I did discover something that made me question a very close business relationship. It made me feel vulnerable and foolish, for if the appearance of what I discovered turned out to be true in its most obvious sense, then I’d been betrayed.

Levels of Trust

Which makes me contemplate the different levels of trust we accord various factions of people who cross our path in life. There are, of course, those who occupy the ‘inner circle.’ Parents, siblings, spouses/partners, children. We usually demand the greatest loyalty from them because they are either blood – or so close to blood they might as well be. When trust is broken in those relationships, we react in a certain manner, depending upon the level of egregiousness.

The next level is comprised of close, deep friends, and perhaps business associates with whom we have a partnership, similar to a sibling or marital relationship, but not necessarily quite as profound. In some cases, I think we may be more profoundly devastated by a breach of trust in this situation than in the first level, because for the most part we’ve chosen these people to be part of our world.

Then there are people with whom we interact on a transactional, day-to-day level. This can be people with whom we work or friends who actually are more acquaintances than anything else, but are perhaps vying for entry into the next level of relationship. Trust in these situations can pervade the relationship, yet not necessarily be needed or warranted. It may be granted, but not be required in order for the relationship to succeed.

And then there are the people with whom we interact on a superficial basis. We basically do not even need to assess the level of trust they deserve, for trust is not an inherent aspect of why we are interfacing with them.

Tonight I experienced what I perceived as a breach of trust of a relationship in the second highest level. It’s interesting, because the person whom I perceived may have ‘sold me out,’ so to speak, I have never met in person, yet actually have cultivated an extremely deep level of trust with and in over the past ten years or so.

Ten years is a long time. And I trust (man, that word – and concept – keeps popping up) my instincts, not only in the short term, as in the sense I get when I first meet a person and make eye contact with them, but also in the long term. I truly believe that one of the gifts of my ‘Owl Medicine’ is to be able to discern the true nature of people accurately. Usually with pinpoint accuracy.

If There’s Trust in a Relationship, Then It Deserves a Chance

So when confronted with the possibility of betrayal, of discovering that someone in whom I had placed great trust on many levels, had possibly sold me out for what was undoubtedly a paltry sum (in consideration of the value of my trust, which is considerable, if I do say so myself), I spoke up. I asked. I confronted – in disbelief, and in the hope that I was somehow misperceiving what I’d discovered – but with conviction that I required clarity.

And I received a response. Quickly. With apparent sincerity, and with what I trust (*) will justify my deep caring for the person and relationship in question.

And with that, I must post this. I truly and sincerely hope my trust is warranted, for otherwise, I will be deeply saddened. And pissed.

(T-1081)

Neglected Journal-keeping – Day Twenty Eight

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Journal-keeping

I have to admit it; I’m a teensy bit stoked that I’ve made it a full lunar month of consistently writing Ruffled Feathers entries.

There has been some fallout in other areas, however, which I’m going to need to rectify, such as my regular journal-keeping. Yeah, my spiral notebook is feeling neglected. I noticed about a week ago that I’d permitted a terrible lapse in entries. A full fourteen days, if I’m not mistaken, which for me is nearly unforgivable.

Do I Have to Choose?

The only reason I didn’t lapse into a round of merciless self-flagellation was because I knew that, on some level, I’d made a choice. And for now at least, if I honestly felt I needed to make a choice, then opting for my 1111 Devotion was the way to go.

Yet as soon as I realized that I was sacrificing one form of writing for another, I knew that could not stand. Keeping a journal has been my way of snatching sanity from the undertow of overwhelm and sadness all my life. Keeping a journal has been integral to maintaining my marriage. Keeping a journal has led me to personal insights that I’m confident I never would have made otherwise, and therefore keeping a journal has been integral to creating the person I am today.

So no, sacrificing my journal writing to fulfill my commitment – my devotion – to honoring Karl’s life is not a practice I will permit. I’m not saying that I must write in my journal every day. But I am saying that a two week lapse is not part of the plan.

My reasoning is two-fold. First, I have kept some form of a journal in earnest since I was in 7thor 8thgrade. I cannot say that I’ve seen those earliest confessionals since becoming an adult, but I do recall writing out my feelings back when I was in 8thgrade, and perhaps even younger.

A Breach of Trust

And sadly, round about the age of 16 or so, I also recall discovering that my mother had done the unthinkable and read something I’d written without asking. (I’m thinking this may be why I haven’t discovered those early attempts at keeping a ‘diary.’ Although I do not remember reacting in an incendiary manner to her breach – by literally lighting them on fire or even being tempted to chuck them – I do find it odd that I can’t put my hands on them. And my visceral reaction to even the thought of burning or otherwise disposing of a journal leads me to believe I would never have taken such a drastic step.)

That’s not to say that I wasn’t incensed with my mother’s breach. Oh my. I was. But I also know we hashed it out. Honestly, tearfully, and not just a little angrily. Which is why I feel slightly bad about dredging this up now, because I know I forgave her. But forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting. And I’m not dredging this up to make her feel bad (since she’s been gone from this realm since 1991), but rather to explain that the deepest source of my outrage at her betrayal was because she’d had my trust. I told her almost everything (much to her chagrin many times). And I didn’t lie. But that’s not to say I told her every single lustful little thought that entered my mind as an adolescent (ew). And those thoughts were precisely the types of things she discovered when she read my ‘diary’ that I took absolute umbrage over her violating my privacy.

I’ve spent much longer on that fracas with my mother than I intended. And yet I’m not quite finished.

It feels important to express why I continued keeping journals even after my mother’s breach. Indeed, they became more and more of a lifeline for me when I turned 17 and became an exchange student in Sweden.

And that’s because I forgave her. And I forgave her because we listened to each other.

Forgiveness – Healing for Both the Forgiver and the Forgiven

I remember having it out together in my parents’ bedroom, when I confronted her after she asked me a question that I immediately saw she already knew the answer to. I was, as I’ve said, incensed. She’d been worried. Or something. I can’t even remember, other than to recall that she admitted that she was wrong to have read it. She admitted that she knew she was wrong because we did have such a close bond, and I did tell her so much about my life. I could see it written all over her face that she sincerely regretted it. And on some level, I understood that she’d almost been offered too tempting a target. “Did she really know me?” “Could she really trust me?” All she needed to do was read what I wrote…

Things were way different culturally when I was 16 than when my sisters and brother were 16, my closest sister in age being 9 years older and the eldest being 19 years older than me. So, yeah. I understood that she wasn’t sure if she knew me. And she understood my outrage.

After our (heated) discussion, I trusted she’d never do that to me again. And I know that trust was well-placed.

I’ll get to my second point tomorrow.

I promise.

(T-1083)