Faith

I’ve been thinking about faith recently. I am neither the first nor the last person to have these thoughts, to come to these conclusions. It seems to me that all defensiveness – and by that I mean all the ways we are on guard against the word and behaviors of others and ourselves – stems from a lack of faith. I don’t refer specifically to faith in God. Faith in anything. Faith in God, Mother Nature, Chi, magic and fairies, yourself. Faith as in believing in something even when you have no good reason to believe in that something. Faith in something simply because it creates a better story.

On Faith and Reason is a wonderful series by Bill Moyers consisting of a series of interviews with authors, scientists, religious figures discussing the nuanced relationship between Faith and Reason. I believe it is Margaret Atwood who describes the book Life of Pi – truly an incredible read. This idea of “a better story” is perhaps the key element. I will say no more here so that you can enjoy this marvelous story for yourself.

I watch people around me, I watch myself, trying to control things, people, events. I watch them (myself) create stress in these attempts - attempts to control that stem from the belief “It’s wrong for things to be different than I think they should be.” Is that the story they (I) choose? How much control do we think we actually have? Is it a good story that brings joy and ease to our lives? Is it really the only story we can imagine?

If you ever start digging around in your thoughts you might find that many, many of these control-needing beliefs stem from a desperate need to prove oneself lovable and worthy. What makes that so universal? More to the point, what makes the belief that one is not lovable and worthy, that one needs to prove one’s lovability and worth and be reassured of those traits, so universal?

Religions are based on faith. Faith in something beyond reason. And that faith comes with an assurance that we are lovable and worthy. We are Good Enough. Someone or something has got our back, believes in us. And from that faith in something greater comes that knowledge, that deep understanding that fills our desperate hunger, comes faith in ourselves. And with that all the suffering and pain, distance and isolation that grows from our stories disappears. There is no need to prove our worth. We know it.

I’m no expert on world religions, there may be some based directly in belief in oneself. The ones I know of are more accurately based in the belief in oneself as divine, as part of something greater, or as one blessed by something greater.

The belief in something, without Reason, that makes a better story is where I believe true peace and ease of living begins. What story do you want to live? What’s your Tiger?

Fumbling

A friend of mine teased me the other day. She was explaining how she enjoyed our conversations, how she likes tossing questions at me just to see how I’ll respond. She appreciates my collection of skills and perspectives and loves to see what combination I’ll use to approach any particular issue.

To be honest, I love that sort of thinking and conversation too. I love when she asks something about human nature, or her experience or whatever, that seems to come from nowhere. I love tossing it around with her, looking at it this way and that. I could do it all day. I enjoy it, but am at a loss to appreciate what she sees as my skills – it’s just what I do. I even enjoyed the thought-provoking tease: “...unless of-course you're dealing with your Self and then we all become the same...fumbling.” Yes, fumbling is such a perfect word to describe how we try to understand ourselves. I can have many wonderful tools for exploring the other, but it’s ever so hard to get a good look at oneself. How can you possibly get enough distance, enough perspective on yourself?
I’ve thought about this quite a bit. Such an intriguing problem. I think that one way to get perspective on oneself is to step aside from ego, from self-consciousness, and see with the eyes of another. What I mean is, if you can actually listen to and hear someone talk about you, how they see you, without denying or diminishing or arguing, and let that sink in, you just might find a way to incorporate some of that perspective.

In fact that’s what I had done when she responded with a thoughtful, loving perspective of me, and included that keen insight that I have called a tease. I had asked for her to explain an earlier comment that embarrassed me in some ways as she was admiring skills of mine that I couldn’t see.

We are simply too close to ourselves to truly appreciate our own skills and marvelous traits. They’re too easy for us, so we don’t value them. This same friend doodles the most amazing doodles. Beautiful works of art in simple pen on paper. The photo above is a piece of one of these doodles that I asked to keep. To her, it’s nothing. To me, it’s magic. Because it comes so easily to her she dismisses it’s value.

We are all like that. But when we listen and honor the words of others, allow them to sink in, allow ourselves to hear the truth from others, we find ourselves both humbled and grateful. And we find ourselves fumbling a little less.

Perspective

I had the extreme pleasure of having brunch with friends I had lost touch with for twenty years. You may wonder what I mean by “friend” if I lost touch for twenty years, but they were dear friends from high school. Two graduated two years ahead of me, the third, one year a head of me. That was the beginning of the disconnect.

They went off on their fabulous adventures to college and beyond, finding their place in world while I did the same. That time of life is so immensely transitional. In many cultures around the world there are ceremonies and rituals that help guide adolescents into adulthood, into their place in society. Certainly those cultures are based on smaller, tightly-knit communities that are greatly involved with development of every individual through every phase of life. I think those cultures were onto something really important.

In my transition I lost touch with my adolescent friends. Maybe it needed to happen as part of my journey – leaving behind that which defined me and creating my own definition. Now twenty years later it was a joy to sit down with them, meet their families, recognize just how wonderful we were then and how much we’ve grown since then.

Perhaps what surprised me the most was what incredible partners they had found for their own journeys. Their spouses are people whose friendship I would treasure. Why would I think it would be otherwise? I don’t think I did think it would be otherwise. I just didn’t know in which directions they had grown.

Interestingly I undertook one of those rites of passage earlier this spring – a vision quest. The centerpiece, but certainly not the sole meaning, is a four day, fasting solo in the wilderness. It’s designed to strip away external definitions and allow self-knowledge to emerge with clarity. The solo is contained within a time of preparation (both alone and as a group) and incorporation (which seems to last a very long time as the intense experience sinks in and mixes within you).

I was discussing some of this with my new-old friends and the question was posed: how much of your interpretation of your experiences is colored by the preparation you received? The weather played a significant role in my quest and feels to be a critical piece for me to understand. The four-directions teachings of North American tribes cast my experiences with the weather in one light. The astrological interpretation sheds another light. Meteorology, the language I know better than the others, adds yet another light.

And that, I believe, is the key. Any one of these perspectives, on their own, allows a particular view and understanding of my experiences. Each offers something unique and profound to my interpretation. Together these various perspectives, various lights, create a much richer, dynamic understanding.

But fundamentally, it's my story to write. I can tell the story as a victim or as a hero. I can find great meaning or great nothing. I can walk away disappointed or inspired. I can choose only one viewpoint, one light from which to tell my story or allow as many as I can find to weave themselves all into something more complex.

I suppose I need to consider what feelings I want to carry with me from my story, from my life. What perspectives do I want to accept or reject as I try to understand the experiences of my life and tell my story in a way that is most satisfying to me? I'm looking for the story that brings me pleasure, challenge, love, expansiveness, connection, hope and inspiration. And I'll take any perspective that brings more of that.