Last night I was newly inspired at Landmark when I attended Christ's final evening. His leader was spot on with an amazing rapport with the attendees she had recently spent three full days with. And Christ? He was "all in", energized, newly excited about life's possibilities, amazed that it took a weekend like that to create breakthroughs in his life. He got up and talked about having a conversation with his son that would have never been possible but for the recent weekend. He and the son have never communicated that way before. I could tell he was well loved at the seminar, his fellow students seeking him out, hugs exchanged. Some of the pretty girls snuck glances at me, wondering if I was his girlfriend, probably wondering if I was worthy of him! He's an impressive guy and from the sounds of it about to land a new job that sounds wonderful. Don't want to jinx it but hopefully, yay.
Lately what's niggling me (that word just surfaced today and I've used it twice already in this blog!) is an uncomfortable observation that it's easier and more fun to embrace the new, be new with new people, find new sources of inspiration, be out in the world beating the bushes for things to care about - all the time, feeling enervated about the people who already occupy a place in our lives, with whom the honeymoon period has long since come and gone.
Kaveh would say that's the time things start getting real and interesting, when the arc of a relationship has crested the top and the newness has given way to familiarity with few illusions. My kids for example. We occupy each others' lives but without the enthusiasm that we reserve for others. What's up with that? Does this strike a chord with you? I've often heard folks say, if the people in their lives weren't related to them, they never would have chosen them as friends - and yet they're stuck with them and struggle to find common ground. Today I'm wondering if that's a cop out - if the real problem doesn't lie in the discomfort of really being seen without the veneers.
Newbies think we're amazing, extraordinary, delightful, funny, talented, inspirational (fill in any wonderful adjective here) and that kind of reflection is something to seek out and crave. Our own family? Not so much. They may love us, need us, but they harbor few illusions about us and as such, what's reflected back is often not so gratifying -bordering on scary if you don't really like much about yourself. Can't hide the real you from family and close friends. Is it "familiarity breeds contempt?" Or maybe that's too harsh. Thinking it's "familiarity breeds discomfort".
I'm thinking it's a huge lost opportunity to not get to the other side of this equation - to "familiarity breeds authenticity". The arc of a relationship; first glitter and veneer. Then scary sharing, we dare to show someone we are learning to love our dark sides. The relationship grows and adjusts - masks are set aside. But then, invariably, disappointment when character flaws and fault lines are uncovered - our loved one is not so great after all. Relationship ennui and fatigue sift over us like ashes from Pompeii, stunting growth and possibilities. Detente - each person tiptoeing around the other - so much unsaid. Polarization.
I often think of the play, Huis Clos by Jean Paul Sartre. I read it in French in high school. Here's an plot synopsis that describes it:
Inès, however, demands that they all stop lying to themselves and confess to their crimes. She refuses to believe that they all ended up in the room by accident and soon realizes that they have been placed together to make each other miserable. Garcin suggests that they try to leave each other alone, but Inès starts to sing about an execution and Estelle wants to find a mirror. Inès tries to seduce Estelle by offering to be her "mirror" and tell her everything she sees, but ends up frightening her instead.
After arguing they decide to confess to their crimes so they know what to expect from each other. Garcin cheated and mistreated his wife; Inès seduced her cousin's wife while living with them; and Estelle had an affair and then killed the resulting child. Despite their revelations they continue to get on each other's nerves. Garcin finally gives in to Estelle's attempts to seduce him, which drives Inès crazy. Garcin begs Estelle to tell him he is not a coward for attempting to flee his country during wartime. While she complies, Inès tells him that Estelle is just agreeing with him so she can be with a man. This causes Garcin to attempt an escape. After trying to open the door repeatedly, it suddenly opens wildly, but he is unable to leave. He says that he will not be saved until Inès has faith in him. She refuses, saying it's obvious he's a coward, and promising to make him miserable forever.
Estelle, infuriated by her treatment of Garcin, tries to kill Inès, stabbing her repeatedly. As they are all already dead, this attack does nothing - bemused, Inès even stabs herself. Shocked at the absurdity of his fate, Garcin concludes, "hell is other people" - not torture devices or physical punishment, but the torment of those he can't escape. The play ends with the three joining in prolonged laughter before resigning themselves to spending the rest of eternity together.
Today I'm challenging myself to evaluate my oldest relationships, spend some time thinking about what it is I love about the people in my life, honoring their strengths, focusing on what it is that makes them great. I'm visualizing holding two orbs in my hands: one with my loved one's strengths and the things I love - the other, their flaws and the attributes that trouble me. These shimmering orbs in my hands (and mind) will start out the same size (or maybe the troubled one will weigh that hand down). As I meditate on the hero qualities in each of the people I love, I will visualize that orb growing larger and the orb of disappointment and disillusionment shrinking.
Bottom line, I need to take these relationships home...they are the ones that matter most. Hell doesn't have to be the people you share the "room" with. Wouldn't it be wonderful to feel safe enough to stand naked in front of the people you love the most, all your weapons left at the door, open, vulnerable, real and loving - agreeing that life is damn hard, agreeing that you're all full of shit much of the time? Laughing about it? Your challenge today is giving thought to this. List the people in your life who energize you. Then list the people who enervate you. Are the energizers new acquaintances who are enamored of the enameled you? Are the enervators the people you love the most? Could the problem be us?
Peace,
Sarah
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