Calgon Take Me Away!/Judge and Jury

So when I said "Your weaknesses are not cute or endearing," in yesterday's blog post, that wasn't entirely true.  I was having a black and white moment.  In truth, your weaknesses are often very endearing.  We admire peoples' strengths but what touches our hearts are the cracks, the vulnerabilities- yes, the weaknesses.  What is truly endearing is when a person owns up to their weaknesses (doesn't try to sugar coat shit) and then works to improve, asking for help if they can't crack the nut themselves.  That's the stuff of admiration.   I once told a friend the only way he could disappoint me is if he disappointed himself.  I can't script success for another person, can't prescribe what a worthy life should look like, but I will recognize failure when I see it - I will see it in your eyes, hear it in your excuses, observe it in your actions.  I won't love you any less for your failures, but I will be disappointed in you, for you.


Does that make me judge and jury?  Calling someone judgemental is pejorative - but should it be? What if we all held each other to a higher standard and called each other out for self limitating behaviors?  Called a duck a duck. It's just a thought.  Would we still like each other?  Maybe not. It's probably a bad idea - we cling to each other for comfort.


Last night, writing group.  Oh, my.  What a strange night!   Dan was in the throes of a writing crisis, questioning our whole raison d'etre for being there, accusing everyone, including himself of wasting time - writing dilletantes.  New guy Marv came and monopolized.  He burned our time, passed judgement, held himself aloft as a "real" writer with false modesty, and then he left halfway through when we nudged the focus away from him (OK, that was me).  Then 3/4 way through the evening another new old gent showed up and he too rambled and rambled.  We listened politely to him but really we were all thinking, "Calgon, take me away!"  Horrific night.  As the primary leader of the group I could have done a better job of reigning all of it in and keeping the focus.  It was a lesson learned.  Next time, I will interrupt and redirect more effectively.


I wrote an interesting piece despite the distractions.  Afterwards I was asked if I have an agricultural background which was quite a compliment because I don't.  Obviously my writing must have seemed realistic.  And really, I don't even know where I got some of these expressions - they just surfaced as I wrote - "corn bolting", a horse "throwing a shoe", the use of the word copse."   Hmmmm...that marvelous retentive brain..it stores this stuff from God knows where.  The prompt was "use the image - a plain wedding ring around the slim twig of a tree". 

On the third day, they called off the search.  Ephram wanted them to search further - the lower field over by Maynard's Marsh and the small wood just beyind.  But it was harvest time, and already a hardship - the hours spent searching for Carrie.  The soybeans could wait another week but the corn would bolt if it wasn't brought in by week's end.  

And it wasn't just Carrie they searched for - inside her, the soon to be born son whom Ephram loved sight unseen.  Evan, Ezra, Earnest - she had insisted on an "E" name when Ephram said "no way," to Ephram, Jr.  He had always hated his name. 

Four days - it seemed like forever ago.  Ephram replayed the events of that day over and over in his mind, looking for a clue.  There was nothing.  That day, when he returned from the fields for dinner, a bit later than usual because Maisie had thrown a shoe, he expected to find Carrie at her usual post in the kitchen, putting the final touches on dinner. 

Maybe he needed to zoom out - review things with a more distant objective lens.  Life for Ephram had been perfect of late.  Carrie, fifteen years his junior who came to him (or was it given to him?) from her father's house - an eighteen year old, fresh faced virgin.  After Mariah died in childbirth with their first child, Ephram never dreamed he would find happiness again. 

Was it possible Carrie had been unhappy all this time?  Ephram wandered into the little copse of apple trees that lay between the farmhouse and the hay shed. Something drew him to the old gnarled pear tree that stood apart.  There he found it - a plain wedding ring, Carrie's ring, placed on a slim twig of the tree where she knew he would find it. 

Today, taking on hard stuff at the office.  Working on personal victories.  Getting caught up.  Taking deep cleansing breaths to look at stuff that makes the hairs on the back of my neck tingly.   I am looking at a post-it note I wrote myself a few days ago.   It says, “Breathe! It will be OK! Courage!!!” I also am really, really trying to help Madeleine get some life momentum.  She is in quick sand.  I hate the thought that my gift to her might have to be cutting her loose – the ultimate kick in the pants.  It seems heartless and extreme and dangerous.   Yesterday she and I lunched.  I didn’t shove self help down her throat – at least I tried not to.   Afterwards we went to Barnes and Noble and got the teen version of the 7 Habits book.   She has committed to reading it by Monday.  We’ll see.


Challenge today is giving thought to my question, “What if we all held each other to a higher standard?”  I have a friend who refuses to discuss Patrick with me.  She has never come right out and said the topic is off limits, but when his name comes up, she changes the subject.  I get it.  She is “telling” me that she will not be a party to my self-limiting dwelling – she will not indulge me.  I have resented her at times for not coming to my pity party, but I also know she’s right - she is holding me to a higher standard of behavior in a very gentle way.   If there are people in your life who engage you in the same bug dance, over and over, who seek inappropriate support for stuff they should have fortitude about, is it time to step back and let them know you expect more from them?  I’m just saying!

Peace,

Sarah