Life happens

I went back to my spot in the woods yesterday- this time, equipped with a digital recorder and my good camera.  Like a good little documentarian, I’d brought the tools of the trade.  On the previous two occasions of being there, I’d prayed aloud without a shred of self consciousness about whether or not I was being articulate or chosen the most effective vocabulary. So I’d brought the recorder so that I could listen to myself after the fact and try to follow the thread of my monologue.  I did think though that perhaps I might try not doing any talking.  I had read that morning in my daily email inspirational message about how we never allot time to just listen for the voice of God, because we believe we are supposed to do all the talking, most of which in my case sounds a lot like a Christmas list:  “And I’d like time to get my marking done, and for my grandfather to get better, oh... and then of course I’d like my marriage restored”.

Even as I was deciding that I was going to just listen, my brain was busy thinking about what I would write in my blog about the process of just listening.   That got me reflecting on my inability to turn my brain off long enough to live in a moment. I realized that not only am I constantly thinking about how to document events in my life, but also about  how to orchestrate events in my life, making the most effective use of my time, as though it was about to run out.  I remember when my daughter was young, she would beg me to go with her for a bicycle ride after dinner.  I would instantly begin planning the most effective route.  If we took our bikes and headed east, we could drop my letter off in the postal box; then stop in at the Indian grocery store which was the best place to get good naan;  and then continue north where we were least likely to encounter any pedestrians, around whom  my daughter had not yet quite learned to manoeuvre; and then back through the school yard, and past her friend’s house where I could return a Hallowe’en costume that had been left at my place. By turning it into a “To Do” list, I effectively drained it of the possibility of pleasure for myself.  Worse, I’d set myself up for frustration because when you approach life that way, you’re bound to encounter a snag in your plan.  The Indian store with the great naan might be closed or my daughter’s friend’s family might not be home,  and then the whole outing -which was supposed to be about a bike ride with my daughter -becomes a failure because I’d been unable to execute the perfect plan.  Exquisite pleasure was mine however, on those occasions when a series of events unfolded on schedule according to my careful plan.

My brain was incorrigible, I realized.  It was constantly busy, not just recording and documenting my life but organizing it and tidying it up.  Furthermore it was always superimposing details overtop of an event, an observation or a conversation for the purposes of making it align with a script that was stored in my head.  I don’t know how that script got there or who wrote it, but I know that it drives me.  I also know that 10 seconds into what feels like an intense moment, whether it’s stumbling upon a beautiful hidden away piece of God’s handiwork, or learning terrible news or enjoying passionate sex,  I stop experiencing it and start documenting it and making decisions about how to incorporate it into my life script.

 I would dearly love to experience a letting go of all that control and acquiring the ability to simply let life happen.  There have been only a few times in my life when I have been at the mercy of such powerful forces that I had no choice but to step out of my head and be a fully sensory being. One of those times was 25 years ago, hiking on a bare mountain top in China with my daughter’s father when a violent thunderstorm closed in around us.  Another of those times was giving birth to my daughter, and surrendering to body rhythms whose demands I had not experienced before, and whose ferocity I could not begin to tame.   Other less intense versions of that same experience occurred when my daughter was very young because it’s almost impossible to predict what a 2 year old or 4 year old will say or will want to do on any given day... and when there’s no way to prepare for something, or plan out the route, the potential for magic increases exponentially.

I wonder now how much the loss of that control impacted upon my marriage.  It’s very difficult to exercise control over the events of family life when 2 of the children aren’t your own, and when three of the people you share your home with were a self-contained unit, with their own well-established traditions, rules, and worldviews before your arrival on the scene.

I returned home from my hike yesterday without having taken my digital devices out of my pocket.  I did check on my altar, and I smiled to find it undisturbed, but I felt no calling to offer up a sacrifice yesterday.  I really believe that God was just saying to me “okay you can take a break from all this internal work.  You don’t have to think about what else you have to surrender.  You don’t have to worry about trying to formulate an articulate prayer... Just take a day or two and just...BE.”

So that’s my plan for the weekend.  I am going to try to just let life happen and see how that feels.