I watch my friend's hands
As he talks, smokes
Writes
Takes photographs
Folds a sweater
Fills a glass with water
I watch these hands
Perform every menial task
And I cannot understand
These hands have no equal
And yet, they have not grown proud and vain
They do not admire themselves
They demand nothing, seek no reward
My friend's hands are quiet and kind
Pleasingly efficient
Tireless and unaware of their beauty
Like the youngest daughter
In a fairy tale
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Chicago's Millenium Park, 2006
Millenium Park
The boy
Pasty and blond
Soft and big-boned
Turquoise shirt, red shorts
Bends over awkwardly
Removing socks and shoes
Pale feet skim the shallow water
The boy
Skips and hops
Plays the warrior, karate chops the air
Heavy and flat footed
He races through the shallow water
Skirts around the others
His thick glasses are dirty and wet
Now he folds his hands across his round stomach
Uncertain and alone
The heavy blond boy kneels in the shallow water
The boy
Gazes out from his sticky skin
His face a mask of blank expectation
Dull eyes seek the others
But receive no comfort
Only the cool indifference of the shallow water
The boy
Pasty and blond
Soft and big-boned
Turquoise shirt, red shorts
Bends over awkwardly
Removing socks and shoes
Pale feet skim the shallow water
The boy
Skips and hops
Plays the warrior, karate chops the air
Heavy and flat footed
He races through the shallow water
Skirts around the others
His thick glasses are dirty and wet
Now he folds his hands across his round stomach
Uncertain and alone
The heavy blond boy kneels in the shallow water
The boy
Gazes out from his sticky skin
His face a mask of blank expectation
Dull eyes seek the others
But receive no comfort
Only the cool indifference of the shallow water
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Not Forgetting
There are so many things in the world that can't be helped or controlled or made better or avoided, and I have to, have to, have to remember that and accept that and always keep it in my mind.
Other Things Hands Can Do
This summer, I went to Carl's house after visiting a family on Cape Cod. I brought him some stones and a hermit crab shell, the kind with a perfect logarithmic spiral, pale indigo. I told him he didn't have to take them if they were annoying, if he didn't really have a place to put them. He took them in his hand and said, "Well, if I put them here like this, the next time my daughter comes over, she'll run right over to them and start asking excited questions." As he was saying this, I watched his fingers deftly arrange the few stones in a small, carefully constructed pile, and artfully place the shell on top. This small group of objects suddenly became something beautiful, an unexpected treasure to be happened upon.
All Apologies
Recently, I wrote in my journal, "I have a lot to apologize for." Before my trip to LA, I had been feeling generally very discouraged and disconnected. I wasn't feeling open to the world, and felt like I was being a person that I didn't want to be. The past few weeks have been a concerted effort to go back and find my loving heart again, and expand back out. I had felt very contracted, pulled in, dark and flat.
In some ways, it feels appropriate to be doing this kind of thinking, as we have been led up to Rosh Hoshana and Yom Kippur, where we look back on what we have done wrong throughout the year and think about what we want to change. Sometimes I feel like there is no end to my failures as a human being. All the things I wanted to do, and all the ways I wanted to be present for people, and didn't, and wasn't. I have consistently been driven by a fear of failure, although I do understand on some conscious level that I am failing all the time, at everything. That's not necessarily something that I celebrate, but I also think that it's not necessarily a bad thing either. As painful as the process is, sifting through my failures in the past year is, I think, necessary to moving forward.
Some failures of the past year:
Being impatient or grumpy with my students when they needed and deserved patience and kindness
Forgetting to do things that I had agreed to do
Saying mean things about people, or being short with people I don't like
Not following through on promises or resolutions that I made to myself
Hurting others as a result of putting myself first
Speaking or acting without thinking of the ramifications
Not seeing or admitting when I am wrong
General arrogance and bossiness
And then there are the spectacular failures of my life that really stand out:
Failing my husband and my marriage
Failing to be a good mother
The interesting thing is where forgiveness of myself comes into the equation. When we are doing T'Shuvah, and going to other people and asking for forgiveness for those we have wronged, we are supposed to ask sincerely for forgiveness three times. If after the third time, we have still not been forgiven, the transgression is on the one we have wronged, because as transgressors, we have done all that we humanly can to make it right. OK, so that being said, what does that process look like if it is happening internally? Well, I think that it's one of the few situations where both the one who is asking for forgiveness, and the one who is refusing to forgive are both carrying the burden. Which is why, I think, the burden is much heavier when we don't forgive ourselves. Because, in my case, I am carrying both the wrong I have committed, and the inability to release it. But I wonder, have I properly sat down and asked myself for forgiveness? Sure, I have felt sorry, endlessly sorry, for the failures of my life, and for the ways that I have hurt people throughout the years. But even with that sorrow and regret, I am still bearing that guilt; I have not absolved myself of that at all. But I don't know that I have really asked myself to do that. And yet, it is clearly a vital part of moving forward.
So, I think, as part of my T'Shuvah this year, in addition to asking forgiveness from the people I know, I would also like to try to see what it is like to ask myself for forgiveness. Will the process work? Will I be able to ask sincerely? How will I know if I have really forgiven myself? Hmm...but I do love myself, so wouldn't that imply that I have forgiven myself? Isn't that a sign that someone forgives you, that they still love you? If this is the case, then what am I still carrying around? I need to think more about this.
In some ways, it feels appropriate to be doing this kind of thinking, as we have been led up to Rosh Hoshana and Yom Kippur, where we look back on what we have done wrong throughout the year and think about what we want to change. Sometimes I feel like there is no end to my failures as a human being. All the things I wanted to do, and all the ways I wanted to be present for people, and didn't, and wasn't. I have consistently been driven by a fear of failure, although I do understand on some conscious level that I am failing all the time, at everything. That's not necessarily something that I celebrate, but I also think that it's not necessarily a bad thing either. As painful as the process is, sifting through my failures in the past year is, I think, necessary to moving forward.
Some failures of the past year:
Being impatient or grumpy with my students when they needed and deserved patience and kindness
Forgetting to do things that I had agreed to do
Saying mean things about people, or being short with people I don't like
Not following through on promises or resolutions that I made to myself
Hurting others as a result of putting myself first
Speaking or acting without thinking of the ramifications
Not seeing or admitting when I am wrong
General arrogance and bossiness
And then there are the spectacular failures of my life that really stand out:
Failing my husband and my marriage
Failing to be a good mother
The interesting thing is where forgiveness of myself comes into the equation. When we are doing T'Shuvah, and going to other people and asking for forgiveness for those we have wronged, we are supposed to ask sincerely for forgiveness three times. If after the third time, we have still not been forgiven, the transgression is on the one we have wronged, because as transgressors, we have done all that we humanly can to make it right. OK, so that being said, what does that process look like if it is happening internally? Well, I think that it's one of the few situations where both the one who is asking for forgiveness, and the one who is refusing to forgive are both carrying the burden. Which is why, I think, the burden is much heavier when we don't forgive ourselves. Because, in my case, I am carrying both the wrong I have committed, and the inability to release it. But I wonder, have I properly sat down and asked myself for forgiveness? Sure, I have felt sorry, endlessly sorry, for the failures of my life, and for the ways that I have hurt people throughout the years. But even with that sorrow and regret, I am still bearing that guilt; I have not absolved myself of that at all. But I don't know that I have really asked myself to do that. And yet, it is clearly a vital part of moving forward.
So, I think, as part of my T'Shuvah this year, in addition to asking forgiveness from the people I know, I would also like to try to see what it is like to ask myself for forgiveness. Will the process work? Will I be able to ask sincerely? How will I know if I have really forgiven myself? Hmm...but I do love myself, so wouldn't that imply that I have forgiven myself? Isn't that a sign that someone forgives you, that they still love you? If this is the case, then what am I still carrying around? I need to think more about this.
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