Samantha spent Christmas Eve in tears. We had been seeing a woman sitting on a corner at all hours of the day and night, with bags gathered about her, for a few weeks. Samantha kept wanting to stop and help her but the moment was never right and it‘s important to me to be respectful of the other persons integrity and not bring an audience to make an event out of the situation. Which is a little difficult considering I only operate with an audience. Giving and serving are very sacred to me. They are invitations and opportunities to love and share in humanity. I will always encourage my children to have empathy and participate in giving of themselves to help another and don’t want to suggest that I’ve placed terms and conditions on how to give but there are a few things I try to consider that are important to not compromise.
I have an issue with the word “charity.” To paint the picture, when I was a little girl, The Church brought a Christmas dinner over as a surprise. It was a very wonderful gesture. I remember my mother being very depressed and sad and she had decided to not celebrate Christmas. She was putting a lot of energy into maintaining the dynamics accordingly. It was gloomy and dark and quiet and all of us kidz were afraid to go against the “there will be no happiness” policy that was well established. When there was a knock at the door and suddenly our apartment was filled with people and turkey and food and fun and . . . .chocolate pie. It was love and light and the intention of that group of people to share restored hope and touched my heart. It left a lasting impression of the power of goodwill and human connection. Before the group gathered to leave I was in the dining room and had discovered said chocolate pie. I was sincere in my joy to discover that chocolate pie and when I looked over to the living room and saw my mother crying tears of happiness I remember identifying with that feeling, but I wasn’t about to compete with the crowd to make my emotions known. Imagine my delight.
I celebrated that pie silently but my eyes and my smile told the story. My genuine story. Then a lady from the group jerked me around and demanded, “Well, aren’t you going to say ‘Thank You’?” I said nothing. I was petrified with joy and then suddenly confusion. Was my smile not thanks enough? She had to demand I say the words? I would say nothing. I would NOT say anything. As she piled into the group heading back out the front door I heard her disgusted exclamation to the group about my ingratitude for her “charity” and how I should know better. I had not asked for her charity and if her only reasons for giving were to try to fulfill her own expectations and to receive the glory from her actions I hoped she would search her heart for “better.” I did not touch that pie.
I do not speak of my giving because doing it in silence is important to me and the sake of giving. This story demands I share a little of my experience though. There is a couple in Creswell that make giving fun. Whenever we have extra or something intended for them they are so good at receiving and it makes being generous feel so good it’s down right contagious. It’s become a natural part of Brazen’s thought patterns to include them whenever possible in our Bi-Mart and Ray’s trips. They’ve never asked us for anything. We sensed a need. When they have a need for what we have to offer they accept graciously and when it’s a burden they say no thank you. They smile, we smile. It‘s easy. It’s comfortable. Yes, it‘s ideal. And, selfishly, it makes us feel pretty darn good.
Samantha had held that woman from the corner in her thoughts and heart and decided to dedicate some time to knitting her a neck warmer. It was all of her own doing, her own materials, her own dedication. It was a beautiful act of kindness and it settled her soul to know she was doing something to try to improve the woman’s life. Samantha wanted her to be warm. When we made plans to go hiking in the hills she asked me to drive her over to visit with the woman ahead of time and I obliged. Ben stayed at the coffee drive through window with the rest of the kidz, out of eyesight, as Samantha and I walked over to approach the woman. 10 feet from her I sensed something was wrong. Samantha was smiling and feeling good about finally being able to give and help and I could already feel this situation going in a different direction. So, I started to gather information and access the situation, quietly. My steps slowed.
The woman was beautifully dressed in a fine wool coat and stylish felted hat and her makeup was fresh and complimentary to her well groomed silver/white hair and although I didn’t think I had any expectations of the situation I was realizing in short order that I really had. At the same time I was having the “homeless people do not have to appear a certain way” talk with myself I was feeling a little uneasy about what kind of situation I was letting Samantha participate in. All of her bags were sturdy black canvas and some of them were larger than my body size and all packed full. I counted five bags. How did she get all of these bags out here? How is she so strikingly clean and assembled so well?
Standing in front of her, I greeted her with a good morning but saw her looking straight past me to the coffee drive through. I felt a wince inside. Maybe I should have brought her a coffee. She probably would have enjoyed that. Is she looking disappointed at us? Samantha shyly presented the neck warmer to her and simply said, “I made this for you and wanted you to have it. It‘s a neck warmer.” But the woman did not extend her hand to accept it. Instead, she drew back and said, “Well, it’s really not my colors. No, it’s not. Maybe you should just go ahead and put in on and keep it for yourself little girl. What am I going to do with that? It doesn’t match anything I am wearing, obviously. What I really want is a ride to Cottage Grove.”
I already had both arms wrapped around Samantha and although I’d like to say this was the first time we had experienced such behavior I will tell you it is actually probably the 40th. Which, I decided, told me I still have something to learn about giving. Later, I thought of the Samaritan woman that Jesus asked a drink of water from, but she would not help him. She had her own agenda of helping for glory and ignored her heart and her truth and the opportunity to love and be loved by Jesus. In the moment I did not want to deny this woman her request because we had our own idea of how we should be helping her. I worried I was contradicting my own policies of giving of myself. But something was so wrong with this situation. I went with my instincts. Had I asked Samantha if she was okay she would have broken down and I was not going to offer that to this woman, so I started to ask her questions instead to defuse and allow for Samantha to get a better scope for the situation.
Her answers to my questions told us she was living in the Best Western with her two dogs and she wanted to go get dog food for them everyday. I was willing to bring her back dog food but not willing to load her and all of her belongings into the car with my children and cancel our day of hiking for dog food. I hated to not be willing. If getting food for her dogs would have fed her soul I would have looked past her insults and criticisms and statements of entitlement, but we were making no difference to her heart. It was closed. We bid her good day and walked away, wishing it all could have gone differently. When I felt Samantha’s shoulder’s fold in I knew she was feeling foolish. She was recounting her time and I didn’t want her to start down that path. I told her not to be angry or feel mislead. This woman seemed like a charlatan but really Samantha did the best thing she could ever do for her, she gave her love. Sometimes people just aren’t in a place to accept love or life, no matter how much we offer or wish them to.
When we got to the car Ben had already been filled in on the general antics of the woman from the coffee lady and he was ready to cut her down, but I didn’t want to hear them justify how she didn’t deserve anybody’s kindness. I turned around and told Samantha she did a good thing and to never regret giving somebody her love because it was a beautiful thing. Always. She cried and I cried and prayed for the woman’s heart to be opened, because I’ve been there. I’ve been on the banks before, watching love and life pass me by.
Later that afternoon, standing at the bottom of Spirit Falls, I closed my eyes and listened to the water. The kidz had all wandered off along the bank and I got out on the high rocks in the water to get a good photo but my plans were soon laid aside. That water was rushing down from 50 feet above my head and in an instant my plans and all of my significance gave heed to the tremendous strength and energy that was before and all around me.
I’d felt this sense of relief when we reached the waterfall because as soon as I’d heard it from the path I thought, “If I were a blind person I would be compelled to crawl, side hill, and stumble my way down to the source of that sound.” I was drawn to it. And, I was in a hurry. Standing out on those high rocks I looked down and saw the water recovering to a stream sized trickle and meander its way down through the rocks and the windfalls and I easily imagined it going on along about it business through the hills and down to feed the lake and then beyond. It’s fun to imagine yourself as a leaf, or what have you, journeying with the water. If I were to stand atop the head of the waterfall I would have to say it would look equally as unimpressive to me. Beautiful and peaceful, of course, but how could such a small amount of water plunging and then toppling down on the rocks, all about itself willy nilly this way and that and onto the water below be transformed into such a powerful force? The mist and the wind were blowing me back and sucking me in all in the same instance. We harness this energy and yet I couldn’t decide if it was asking me to play or telling me to stand aside in reverence.
Does the water know? Does it prepare and practice for this experience . . . .this transformation? Does it know parts of it will stay on to sustain the moss, parts will blow back the ferns along the rock walls, parts will end up swirling happily around the deep part etched out from other parts that carried away the rocks and dirt, parts will pool along the bedrock to slick down the salamanders, parts will splash and hole up along the bank and the rest will pass along peacefully taking this experience and setting out in search for more?
Standing out in the rocks I thought about the woman Samantha tried to help. Sitting there by the road, watching the cars go by with all of her bags gathered about her. I wondered what her choices had been and how her pain had severed her connection to life. I thought about how we get what he give in life, but we also give what we have been given. I wondered if she would smile again.
Last July, it had finally warmed up enough to call it a day of “real” summer and that constitutes a trip to the lake. I’m just going to get it over with now and tell you ….. I do not know how to swim. I didn’t say “can’t” because we aren’t allowed to say that at Tammy’s house. I missed my window of opportunity and it’s something I’ve managed to dodge, side step and avoid ever since. I can shoot a deer, skin it, cut it up and prepare it into a beautiful meal to feed to my family along side whatever I have grown in my garden. I can fall a tree, limb it and split it up to feed the fire that keeps my family warm. I can love. I can help. I can ask myself to not cause you pain. I can create. I can build. I can laugh. I can think. I can give. I can live. I know these things. But I do not know how to swim. In other words, I’m a big fat chicken and I‘m missing out big time. I’m also going to tell you that I am determined to learn.
But, we were going to the lake. Holy whirlwind, my kidz can move like a hurricane when they get a little motivation. This somehow only relates to loading up to go to the lake or beach and does not relate to cleaning their room or the chicken coop . . . even when you use the lake or beach as bribery. This ain’t my first rodeo folks. But we were loaded and ready. I’ll take it. Phenomenal. To the lake we go. Then down the road, in and out of the grocery store for snax and we’re there. Suddenly kidz are pealing out doors this way and that and towels and bags are being carried down the hill.
No words need to be said. We all have a common goal and we all are doing our part to make it happen. Walking down the hill my feet are steady. My long skirt is flowing in the wind all about my legs and scratching the ground behind me. I have only a blanket and drinks in my hands. How did that happen? How, when? When did that happen? It’s happening. It’s happening right now. This moment. That is when. Camble sees the root that’s leapt up and dove right back down in the ground just in time to snag any unsuspecting little feet and he avoids the disaster as my heart stops beating. Breathing had already preceded it. Nothing but daylight and dust to fill the roots’ emptiness. Out of the corner of my eye I see Brazie not only spies the stump coming up, but he even anticipates it with a little hop, skipped step to make sure he can use it as a platform to jump from. His arms are full and he squeezes everything in to his chest like he pulls me in for his morning hugs when he lands it. He doesn’t even look back to accept the courtesy mommy acknowledgement of his awesomeness. He just runs on. I smile to myself. He did it for him. Good for him. A little huff comes out my nostrils. I guess I’m breathing again. It’s all good.
We’re on the bank, out from under the trees and into the sun that I am soaking up and I look out and see every mirrored face of the waves reflecting back to me the beauty of this moment.
And then it starts to go badly.
Toes, then ankles and then waists are deep in the water. That’s right. We’re actually here to swim. Small detail that maybe didn’t get enough consideration on my part. They’ve scattered out all around me from this side to that and clear out there. I’ve planned ahead. In order to compensate for me being the weak link in this particular chain everybody has their life jacket. Everybody except me. Mama. So, in other words, I’ve dictated that everybody else needs to compensate for my lack of knowing. But, it didn’t occur to me to take care of it for myself. Maybe because I’ve gotten away with it for so many years. Maybe because I have a whole arsenal of excuses. Nonetheless, all I know is now I’m reacting to the situation. I need to be close to them. I need them close to me. They are spreading about like wind drifts. What am I going to do? If you are feeling a little panic inside it’s a sympathy for the hysterics I was trying to choke down whilst standing waist deep in the lake with my arms stretched wide like a compass bearing Brazie due North, Camble due South, Samantha due SouthWest and Morgan far far far NorthWest . . . . All beyond my reach. Beyond my grasp. Beyond my knowing.
Hysterics aren’t helpful. They just aren’t. So, lets not do them. Let’s just breath. Take a big breath. Not only am I NOT holding them, I am holding them back. Take a breath. I start backing out of the water, inching my way back to the bank. I stood there on the bank for quite some time. Thinking. Settling. Being. One hand in a sailor’s salute stuck to my forehead, and one hand on my hip, looking out on my creations, my loves . . . . And I’d like to tell you that right then and there a miracle happened and I somehow just became blessed with ability to swim and we had a fabulous time in the water together, swimming and splashing about. But, unfortunately, that particular miracle did not occur. I wished for it. I wished so badly that I knew how to swim and it drove me straight to a craziness. Because there I was, standing on the bank, with two good arms, two good legs, a healthy heart and this huge desire and, yet, all of that was compromised by my little tiny fear. I was afraid. So, there I was, on the bank, isolated and alone with my fear.
Despite my best efforts, nobody else was coming out of the water. Nobody wanted to eat the tasty snax we’d brought and nobody had to go to the bathroom. Apparently I’d already solved this bathroom problem for myself also because when I offered to take the children to the bathroom if they wanted to go ahead and all come out of the water it was Brazen who shouted out, “What? You told us to just pee in the water!! You said it was sanitary and it wouldn’t hurt the fish so it was okay. What are you talking about . . . . I don’t need to probably go pee? I already went.” So, there I was, on the bank. Alone.
Two weeks before, we had been at Luke and Zoe’s house and all of my kidz were enjoying swimming in their backyard in ground pool with Kaya. Camble had been swimming around and gotten tuckered out so I pulled him out and we stripped his life jacket to towel him off. He came and laid out on the chair behind me for a bit and decided that he was “too coldie” and he wanted to be in the sun and next to the kidz. He sat two feet in front of me, in between the pool and me, and we had a conversation about how he couldn’t go back in the pool without his jacket. He was cooperative and agreed and just wanted to watch the kidz. So, he sat, two feet in front of Zoe and I and we all watched the kidz. I went to cross my right leg over my left and he was gone. I had been staring directly at him and over him to see any of the kidz the whole time. “Oh God, where’s Camble!?!”
I’m already to the edge of the pool and there he is, his little blue eye’s were open and looking up, four inches under the water. He’s looking up at me, smiling, air bubbles coming out of his mouth when he raises his cheeks up to me. He’s so happy. He thinks he’s swimming. He’s giving it all he’s got and I am reaching as far as I can and I can’t get to him. Come on Camble. I can’t get him. Oh God, I can’t get him. I can’t swim . . . That was all I knew at that moment. I can’t get him and I can’t swim. And then . . . , I knew he was going to drown. But, I was already in the water and underneath him and moving somebody else out of the way so I could get him over to the side of the pool where Zoe was waiting to scoop him up. And, it happened just like that. In less time that it took for me to recreate the event and type it out, and have a few break downs while I sit here remembering that moment of time. It was less than 10 seconds time.
It was Morgan. It was Morgan that I shoved aside so that I could get to Camble. She was already there, trying to get to her brother. My pants were these long jean bell bottoms that I had rolled huge cuffs into because I was getting hot when we were sitting in the sun and I was getting pulled down every time I tried to swim up because they were coming uncuffed and scooping the water. I was going nowhere quick. I was fighting that and trying to sort out and find Camble’s legs and I had managed to get a hold of them and get him thrown over to the side of the pool. I was under the water and sinking and couldn’t really make anything else out above my head. I could see Camble’s legs disappearing and knew Zoe was lifting him out of the water.
Zoe and I hadn’t said a word to each other or arranged anything. I just knew she would be there. He was safe, so I stopped fighting and let myself sink. Maybe I thought I would walk the floor of the pool for awhile or maybe I decided at that moment to live a little less because the idea of Camble losing his life was too much to bare. Then, I felt somebody tugging on me and pulling me up. It was Morgan.
And, it was Morgan, again on that July day at the lake. There, way out there, shouting to me “Come on in! Come on! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease? It’s great Mom. Come on.” She had both hands on the chest of her life jacket pulling it down off of her face where it kept inching up to. I knew she just hated that thing holding her back. She swam out a little further and then spun back around to shout out her next big idea. “Well, can we go out the buoy then? We all have life jackets on.” The answer was, “No.” It was out of the question. That question was enough to throw me over the edge.
What is she thinking to take Camble and Brazen out there to the buoy? She knows I can’t swim. I can’t save them if something happens. What was I thinking to take them here all by myself? Now she wants to go swim out to the buoy and I am the big jerk because I say “No” but I have to trust my instincts. I started to get angry and offended. Which, just lead to me alienating myself even further.
Instincts. Yes instincts. I was asking myself to trust my instincts. I was sitting on that bank, watching life pass me by and I was asking myself to recognize and take mind to my own instincts. Well, my mind was certainly not practicing my instincts. My body, sitting on that bank, certainly wasn’t practicing my instincts.
I think of our mind, body and soul connection sometimes like the story of The Three Little Pigs. We merrily start on our way and then we suffer and have experiences and circumstances that condition us to choose protection and security over life and love. We start out with our house of hay and end up fortifying our castles with bricks and all that we know and bad experiences and decisions based on “I can’t” and “I don’t believe” and “I don’t know” and “I’m afraid.” We get the wrong thought patterns and we have histories and bad habits and we choose to severe ourselves from life. We know life is happening, somewhere. We just push it out there. Way out there. We walk through our world sure the wolf is trying to get at us and we’re shutting the windows and locking the doors and we forget about the wind. We forget to let the wind in and let it touch us and remind us that we are alive. We forget to choose life and love. We live and love less. The wind passes us by and goes about it’s business. It chooses life.
I watched the kidz playing, and swimming and splashing out in the water and I felt my shoulders relax and my face soften. I saw Morgan doing all she could to try to get all of herself in that water. She swims like a dolphin. She just smiles and laughs and splashes enough for 5 people. She chooses life. There is life, right out there in the deep part. How could I let my garbage get in the way of THAT? How could I choose my fear over her joy? She believes in me wholly and truly. She loves me.
The saying does not go “sink, swim or stand on the bank.” When I opened my heart and truly saw the kidz and Morgan out there it was a baptism for my soul. I felt love for love’s sake and it was enough. I was enough. I let go and I saw Morgan for who she is and I smiled and I got right out there in that water and played the best that I could because I finally found my courage and I had to. There was no denying life.
Standing out on those rocks under the waterfall and feeling the rush of that water I found relevance and appreciation because I sought understanding in the acceptance that there is something beyond the knowing. Something far beyond me. We know what we have done and what we have experienced. Sometimes other people know what we have done and what we‘ve experienced. Sometimes they judge the skeletons in our closets because they are beating themselves up with the bones in their own. Life tells us to open the door and let the water wash them away. We all stand on the bank with garbage in our hearts, or on the street corner with our bags all about us. Have courage. Choose to let go. Choose life. Choose to love.
Be aware of your own pain. See somebody else’s pain. Learn to recognize the pain you cause somebody else. Choose to do something about it. We were all blessed with instincts that help us survive but most importantly, we were all blessed with instincts to help others and to help us to act in caring. Buddhists put their beliefs into practice through uncompromising action, introspection, meditation, study, yoga, service to the community and you can put your beliefs, hopes and healing into practice when you act on your empathy and identify with another person’s struggle. Because it’s all of our struggle. I know whenever I experience a loss or suffering or whenever I can heal or help somebody I always get connected straight away to this altered state of reality that somehow puts everything into a very clear focus, namely my priorities. And what I see is we are all united in our Human Condition and that we need to live our conscience experience.
The water doesn’t know. I don’t always know but I will try to have the courage to consciously choose to trust my instincts and check in with my heart because God gave me those for a reason. The big reason. When I make choices that go against those I will suffer. I also trust that when people tell me that their suffering, bad circumstances, selfish choices, crappy situations and tough experiences add up to be called life I will tell them, “No. Those things are not life. They are not the light.” We get separated and severed at times, but those things that we are surviving are not life and that is why we are trying to overcome them and get back to the light. . .to our flow . . .the good we’ve been given. And I will tell them to smile.
