I am reading a lot of books lately to help me deal with my midlife and faith crisis. One of the books I am reading right now is entitled Broken Open and is written by Elizabeth Lesser. I want to share with you a section from the book that I found to be deep and profound. This is a longer read for a blog but I promise you is well worth the read. Stick with me here.
"In several of his poems and commentaries, Rumi (Jelalluddin Rumi) speaks of the Open Secret. He says that each one of us is trying to hide a secret-not a big bad secret, but a more subtle and pervasive one. It's the kind of secret that people of the streets of Istanbul kept from each other in the thirteenth century, when Rumi was writing his poetry. It's what I imagine Einstein tried to hide from his neighbors in Princeton, and they from him. And it's the same kind of secret that you and I keep from each other every day. You meet an old acquaintance, and she asks, "How are you?" You say, "Fine!" She asks, "How are the kids?" You say, "Oh they're great." "The job?" "Just fine. I've been there five years now."
Then you ask that person, "How are you?" She ways, "Fine!" You ask, "Your new house?" "I love it." "The new town?" "We're all settling in."
It's a perfectly innocent exchange of ordinary banter, each one of us has a similar kind every day. but it is probably not an accurate representation of our actual lives. We don't want to say that one of the kids is failing in school, or that our work often feels meaningless, or that the move to the new town may have been a colossal mistake. It's almost as if we are embarrassed by our most human traits. We tell ourselves that we don't have time to go into the gory details with everyone we meet; we don't know each other well enough; we don't want to appear sad, or confused, or weak, or self-absorbed. better to keep under wraps our neurotic and nutty sides (not to mention our darker urges and more shameful desires). Why wallow publicly in the underbelly of our day-to-day stuff? Why wave the dirty laundry about, when all she asked was "How are you?"
Rumi says that when we hide the secret underbelly from each other, then both people go away wondering, How come she has it all together? How come her marriage/job/town/family works so well? What's wrong with me? We feel vaguely diminished from this ordinary interaction, and from hundreds of similar interactions we have from month to month and year to year. When we don't share the secret ache in our hearts-the normal bewilderment of being human-it turns into something else. Our pain and fear and longing in the absences of company, become alienation and envy and competition.
The irony of hiding the dark side of our humanness is that our secret is not really a secret at all. How can it be when we're all safeguarding the very same admission that each one of us has a shadow self, a bumbling, bad-tempered twin. Big surprise! Just like you, I can be a jerk sometimes. I do unkind, cowardly things, harbor unmerciful thoughts, and mope around when I should be doing something constructive. Just like you, I wonder if life has meaning; I worry and fret over things I can't control; and I often feel overcome with a longing for something I cannot even name. For all of my strengths and gifts, I am also a vulnerable and insecure person, in need of connection and reassurance. This is the secret I try to keep from you, and you from me, and in doing so we do each other a grave disservice.
Rumi tells us that moment we accept what troubles we've been given, the door will open. Sounds easy, sounds attractive but it is difficult, and most of us pound on the door to freedom and happiness with every manipulative ploy save the one that actually works. If you're interested in opening the door to the heavens, start with the door to your own secret self. See what happens when you offer to another a glimpse of who you really are. Start slowly. Without getting dramatic, share the simple dignity of yourself in each moment - your triumphs and your failures, your satisfaction and your sorrow. Face your embarrassment at being human, and you'll uncover a deep well of passion and compassion. It's a great power, your Open Secret. When your heart is undefended, you make it safe for whomever you meet to put down his burden of hiding, and then you both can walk through the open door."
Okay, phew! Done with those passages. Are you still with me?
As I was contemplating this I began watching my favorite musical Fiddler on the Roof. I have probably seen this musical...oh 20 or more times. Recently, my daughter, McKenzie, was watching it with her roommates and told me that I should watch it again which is why I am in the middle of watching it. And, just like the other 20 times I have watched it, I found myself deeply moved by the story. I asked myself why I felt so moved or what makes me feel so moved when I hear a beautiful musical piece, like Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber, or read a beautiful book like The Color of Water by James McBride or hear an inspiring piece of poetry like The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost, or see beautiful artwork like Weeping Woman by Picasso? (By the way, I used to never find this type of art by Picasso beautiful but now I would say it's one of his most beautiful pieces) The reason I feel so moved by this art is because they tell a story about life, both the good and the bad and in them. We recognize our own damaged selves and feel connection and redemption. I will state that again...because we see both the beautiful and the ugly in these, we feel validated in our own Open Secrets that we hide. We realize that we as humans are all these things and we can face ourselves more honestly. Art that unflinchingly looks at the good and the bad helps us see ourselves more clearly. This is why I love the arts. And oh, how I miss the live arts right now.
In another book I just read entitled the Magical Journey by Katrina Kenison she says this, "Sharing the truth of who we are and how we grapple with the every day stuff of life is what brings us joy and what brings us to our knees is simply a way of reweaving and reaffirming our connection with one another."
Katrina Kenison also said this in her book Magical Journey, "It's not for me to judge the gifts I have to offer the world, but it is up to me to summon the courage to offer them."
Recently, I have asked myself what gifts I have to offer. I think it is the gift of being able to write my life's experience. I am trying to summon the courage to offer my gifts and hope my words and my desire to honestly express my experiences will help you connect with me and hopefully others around you. As I get older in life, I learn more and more that life is really all about relationships. People matter most and please, start with the people closest to you because they will not always be there.
Because of my questions regarding my faith and my honest search for answers, because I am transitioning from a Mom with a full house to a Mom with an empty house, I am rediscovering and rebuilding myself. I feel as if I am rebuilding from nothing, as if I truly have been broken open. I want to share my journey in this blog so stay tuned as I really figure out what my values are, where my boundaries are, the struggles I have, the questions I have. I will try to take moments to write my innermost thoughts and feeling down here along with the picturing of our endeavors throughout life. Please realize, I am searching for me. I've been thinking a lot about me. Past, present and future me. I can see her and I am reaching back to pull out the feelings of the little girl I was, the teenager I was, the young mother I was. I can see her in the future and I am reaching out to her to discover the empty nester I will become and the aged woman I will become. I am trying to connect to her in the present. I see her. She is ever present and she is more than one dimension. I am rebuilding with the materials she already has.
Right now I feel as Dante Alighierei put it in his poem the Divine Comedy put it:
I found myself within a dark woods
Where the straight way was lost."
we will rise from the windswept northeast
where our forefathers first realized revolution
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,
we will rise from the sunbaked south
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover
and every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,
battered and beautiful
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid
The new dawn blooms as we free it
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it
If only we’re brave enough to be it"
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