Higher Power

Writing about the fact of a Higher Power, will no doubt reveal a lot about my limitations. I just hope that such writing will also reveal something of the capabilities that compel me onward. I come to this phenomenon because it makes up, for me, the one resounding characteristic of the spiritual community that I feel part of. I am singularly unimpressed (limitation) by the myriads of religions that tout their divinity. On the other hand, I’m touched by those who have allowed this mysterious magical largeness to be. I like a little mystery in my madness. There is something in not knowing that keeps me from too much hubris. At least I hope so, you tell me. What follows is my bizarre acknowledgement of what is even more bizarre than me.

I want to specifically give my gratitude to the 12-step community. I know of no one who has kept the candle burning, as adeptly, for the mystery that so ably steers us all. There is something of the acknowledgement of powerlessness, that I as a disabled person greatly admire. I’ve never particularly been a twelve-steppper. I’ve been to a few meetings. Mostly, I’ve been touched by the community effort that the 12-step program helps generate. Somehow, Higher Power seems to especially favor the larger body of community, which the 12-step program calls together. So, this is a shout out to all of you, who have kept this fire burning. You have been doing us all a favor.

I don’t know really know what I want to share. I certainly benefit from the awe that comes over me when I dwell on the fact that there seems to be some mysterious intelligence that pays attention to me. I sense that I am cared for. I don’t know why. Nor, do I have a sense, that anything I think I might know, matters much. In some unfathomable way, I am always part of something so enormous that I have no sense of perspective about it.

Sometimes (another limitation), I enter a period of lucidity, where I think I’m being let in on the secrets of the moment. At these times, I like to imagine I’m closer to what holds me so firmly. These are empowering moments.  More likely, what’s happening is, that I am less oblivious of what is always present.  For a while my usual blindness subsides. I suspect that the invisible Presence, that is always around, becomes a little more palpable, because I’ve stumbled into being a little more present myself.

I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude. Something compassionate is paying attention to whether I am paying attention. You know what is really strange to me? I have a sense this something amazing seems to need me. I am some essential piece of the miracle that governs my life. I don’t know if that is good or bad news, but it does seem to explain the gravitas associated with my being here. This life is not entirely mine.

It somehow helps me to think that my existence is a part of some larger existence. I can’t really explain how, but I trust it. In some unexplainable way, what seems like a larger being, has me as a part of it. In other words, it, whatever it is, extends all the way into this realm, as little old me. I get helped along, and I experience what I experience, as a part of some larger drama.

Anyway, I don’t understand any of this, yet every now and again, I have a feeling, experience, or someone says something to me, that I notice, but don’t get the significance of right away, that lets me know something else, something pertinent to my being, is going on here. I am, as a result, baffled and beguiled.

I like and hate being part of a mystery I don’t get. I feel like an actor doomed to improvise in a play he knows nothing about. There is a certain amount of freedom in this situation, and, a lot of suspense, but no conclusion (at least not yet). On the other hand, no one will ever do the part better or worse than me (no doubt, that’s a limitation too).

Of course, I’m speculating about all of this. My guess, is as good as yours. The truth apparently, is above my pay-grade — most likely, yours too. Still, I can’t help but wonder.

The most satisfying, and compelling, thing about my existence, is that I am being kept here by something that is a mystery. I find that realization, delightful and humorous. I hope you are doing so, as well. The world seems to be shaking down to its very foundations, and I am slowly filling up with more and more of a sense of wonder. I have a sense that they are related, but wonder just makes more visible the signs associated with mystery unfolding this drama. I think I suffer from being ignorant, in a wiley, human sort of way.

Love’s Function

“Love’s function is to fabricate unknowingness.”

                                              — e.e. cummings

The unknown. That’s almost everything. And, the pile of unknown stuff grows as one gets older, and nearer death, so becoming wiser and more honest. Then it is clear that the more one knows the less one knows. So this Slow Lane piece will demonstrate the truth that accompanies ‘not knowing.’

Have you noticed how spacious and roomy everything gets when the unknown is let in? The unknown seems like dark matter— it fills everything up, with no perceptible substance. I like the thought that despite so much knowledge, we know practically nothing, and the unknown envelopes us, stretching farther than the eye can see. The unknown is ubiquitous, except in most of the conversations I am privy too. When was the last time you were in a conversation, or heard others talking, in any way, which acknowledged, and made space for the unknown?

You would think that the fact that we seem to be swimming in a sea of unknowingness might be part of our daily discourse. But, we seldom talk about it. I wonder, does this mean that it is very seldom factored in to what we call reality? I know I have been guilty of that. I still, too often, am.

I remember vividly how I failed in my second marriage, to really recognize my partner’s otherness. Like most everybody, I guess, I was relating to my version of who she was. And, that of course, cost us both, her because she was only partially known, and me because I interacted primarily with a familiar mirage I thought was her. A little more reality would have helped. It that case if I had been a little more mature, and admitted to myself the truth of the moment, and accepted that I didn’t know her as well as I thought, I might have related to her better. That failure, painful as it was, for both of us, is what cued me in to “love’s function.” Now, I know more, how I don’t know.

Unknowing has been hard to learn. The lessons have been painful and humiliating. Of course, it has freed me, too. Still, almost no one seems to notice or care. I don’t win any recognition, or admiration, when I let folks know that I don’t know. Not knowing seems to be the wisdom of the fool. It seems to let one in on the depth of reality, but doesn’t help a whole lot in learning how to swim in those depths. Maybe not knowing is not widely popular, and on everyone’s tongue, because it is so deep, that for most of us, it’s over our heads, deeper than we dare go.

What does that say about love then? If love’s function is to fabricate unknowingness, and few of us want to swim in those deep waters, then how much love are we really admitting into the world?

I’ve wrestled a little with the uncertainty inherent in that question. The truth is, I don’t know. I do take re-assurance from the perception I have, that the vast unknown is operating whether I know it or not. It seems, that despite my ignorance, most of the time, I get the benefit of what the unknown has cooked up for me. My ignorant belief, that I know something, does occasionally get in the way, and cause painful havoc. So my answer to the uncertainty is that we humans, as intelligent as we are, are not very intelligent, and don’t bring a lot of love into the world. Mystery, what seems to be in the provinces of the unknown, brings a lot more love into the world.

Think of that, sometime when you think you know something, especially about another (or even your self). I sometimes remember. Mostly, I don’t. Every now and then I recall love’s function, then I just feel grateful, because then I recollect that the unknown is bringing a lot more of the love in, than I am capable of. I like the thought that the unknown is my benefactor.

If I am lucky, and I am, then I get to be baffled and freer because love is doing its function with me.

Isolation

I’ve found myself giving a lot of thought to isolation. As a savvier than normal old person I have a particular apprehension about the nature and effects of isolation. I don’t think it is very healthy for we social animals. I am also concerned about the costs that we all pay living in a cultural world where isolation is normal. Our lack of community, combined with our general distrust of each other, adds up to neglect of certain parts of our shared humanity. This is the source of my dismay. It is also something I can feel.

I’m sort of not really isolated. By that I mean that I have worked on staying connected. I have my disabilities to thank for some of that. I literally could not survive if I didn’t have caring others in my life. I am also a community-builder, one of those people who actually believes community is our natural social habitat. I’ve been a pain in the ass to my friends that way. The upshot of all this, is that I have more people in my life than many single, old people.

When I was making reassurance calls (see my last Slow Lane) someone said to me that I seemed to have lots of contacts, and therefore wasn’t all that isolated. I said at the time, and feel it more strongly the more I think about it, that when one lives in a cultural world where isolation is the norm, being as socially connected as I am, seems-like more than it is. Surprisingly, I feel a sense of isolation, even though I’m more connected than the average bear.

Isolation, it strikes me, is particularly harsh and corrosive to we old people. I’m already disabled, and somewhat used to asking for help, but most folks haven’t adapted to the break-downs that come with elder life. I know how hard that is. I saw a national news story a few weeks ago, which proves this point. It was about an 85-year old veteran who had returned from a hospital where he had just had surgery. He made the news because he called 911 to get help. His refrigerator was empty, and he was in no condition to go shopping. Luckily, one of the 911 operators was a social worker, who bought him some groceries. Imagine, his story made the news, because he’s a veteran.

The story concluded by saying over 40% of people over 65 didn’t have any kind of support system. In my book, we are the veterans. Life kills us all off, eventually. But, in the meantime, let’s all pay attention to how we choose to live. Isolation is our doing. Our social nature is somehow askew. There is so much we could say to each other, if only one could listen. There is so much beyond what we could say to each other. Age takes you down into the moment and dares one to show up.

My circumstances teeter on the relationships that support me. I suppose you have that same vulnerability. Now, these relationships are in good shape. And, they are because I am my own primary caretaker, and I have a deep awareness of the danger of isolation. I still have some influence over my own fate, but if I couldn’t take care of myself (and I’m not far from not being able to do so), the isolation that is prevalent in our social realm is likely to determine what happens. That is part of the backdrop of my life.

So, I think about isolation. I have an on-going apprehension about the erosion of community. Lately, however, I’ve grown more aware of how my friends are being affected. I know health suffers when people don’t have enough social life. But lately, I’ve become aware that the medical community has diagnosed cognitive decline as a brain impairment (a purely mechanical thing, perhaps responsive to brain exercises or medication) rather than addressing the decline in interactions and caring. Getting together, doesn’t reduce memory loss, but does put it into a healthier context. Old people who are more connected live a different quality of life.

This issue is probably too vast for one of my Slow Lanes. But, the level of isolation we modern humans live with, is part of our lifestyle being out of balance. I think that the speed of Life we live with, amounts to passing each other by.

Not only that, I think the speed we maintain also means that we have a tendency to pass our selves by.  I am growing more aware of how many people isolate themselves.  I was ethically concerned, as a therapist by the reliance on the consulting room and confidentiality, because they reinforced social isolation. To me, those things had a tendency to undermine community. Now, I’m finding so many people who have adjusted to isolation. They are prone to isolate themselves rather than get themselves out into the social hub-bub, where they can continue being surprised and growing.

My concern about how isolated I am, isn’t so much about my own personal situation right now, as it is about what is going on all around me. I guess I’m a good example of one being affected by the social environment I’m living in.

I go so far as to say, “a person who is socially cut-off (no matter if by oneself, or larger cultural processes) is not actually a whole person.” That may sound harsh, and perhaps is, overly judgmental, but for all practical reasons, if isolation is allowed to prevail, it is too true.

Indigenous Well-being

I’ve been writing away. Trying to put into words, the awesomeness of this moment, in our (humans) evolutionary history. The number of us old people, combined with the world-wide longevity revolution, has altered the flow of Life. Giving what’s due to the changes in old age, and the flow of evolution, is probably beyond my writing capability. But, the momentousness of all of this is making me try. Along the way, I’ve discovered that trying to describe something that has previously been un-described is hard. Doing so means inventing words. This results in coining a phrase that didn’t exist before, or that has another meaning. This piece is about one of the attributes of old age that I had to name. I call it “indigenous well-being.”

Earlier I reported that I had to give a name to the transition period between adulthood and elderhood. This period seemed much like adolescence, only a lot more ignored, and complex. I ended up referring to this period as grandolescence, because I wanted to draw attention to it, and I wanted to underscore the benefits arising as one goes through this initiatory period of life.

As I reflected upon the incredible shift that is happening now, I have been awed by Nature’s part in it. This has affected a gradual enlarging of my viewpoint. Evolution, in my mind, is working some species magic at this moment. It is changing us. Growing our perspective. Just now, when we have done a really good job of digging ourselves into a really deep hole, it is unilaterally changing our awareness.

Oh, this isn’t happening uniformly, with everyone. True elders, the one’s beginning to feel it, are in a minority. Nature, in Her pragmatism, has taken time to cultivate a complex new awareness — in those who have been around a long time, and who have suffered life’s vagaries with style.

It is this fit — that some old folks seem at home in these times, in this place — that has captured my attention and made me wonder. Is this just happy obliviousness, an elderly form of denial, or dementia, or do these folks have something else going for them? After paying attention for a long time I’ve arrived at an unexpected conclusion. These few old folks have arrived at being comfortable in their own skin. What’s special about them, and about the state of mind they occupy, is that their skin extends outward to include what is. This isn’t their intention necessarily, it’s a development, which is a result of living in this time and place — it is the product of being ripened by Life.          

I call this state of ripeness, where awareness of the sorrows of the world exists side-by-side with awareness of the miraculousness of the world, indigenous well-being. It isn’t a well-being created by we humans, it is created by Life having its way with some of us.

The idea came from the combination of two different sources, and what I’ve been learning as I steep myself in the awareness emerging through a bunch of unsuspecting old folks. I learned that Martine Prechtel, a Guatamalen-trained teacher, has referred to all humans hailing from one home, Earth, having an indigenous soul. I also recently heard Dr. Michael Pratkin, a palliative care specialist, who has attended many deaths, say that, he was impressed by how many people died more “well.”

I realized this is what happens with some old people. As they get older, they grow less inclined to change things, and end up taking in more of what is.  They learn to fit in, not to human culture, but to the ways of Life. They exhibit what I now call “indigenous well-being.” They have not only arrived at being comfortable in their own skin (one of what I believe is a uniquely elder developmental achievement) but they are also comfortable within Life.

If, it is true, like I think, that some old folks are more at home, in a way rarely available before, then I think that fact is amazing and hopeful. I also think, that the awareness they embody could do a lot for the rest of us. For instance, a lot of the young suffer because they don’t know that Life gets better, and a lot of the rest of us don’t know, that growing older can be one of the best things that ever happened to us. Those who have come to experience a kind of indigenous wellness, represent what is possible for us humans. They reveal something that needs to be known about human potential. And finally, their presence, in this dark age, reminds us, that Life is still acting on our behalf.

It is that final note that keeps me writing, and that has me focusing as intently as I do, upon the movement of evolution. It is happening now, with the new old. Greying and diminishment are only the surfacy, shallow part of the story. There is much more, an exquisite depth, and its coming right through us.

Independence/Dependence

Lately, I’ve been hearing the fear many people express about having no choice and becoming dependent upon others. I hear the anxiety about a loss of freedom, that nearly always accompanies the concern about relying upon, and “burdening,” others. Sitting in my wheelchair hearing this arouses me. I think about how long I’ve been utterly dependent upon others, and how that has enriched my life (and theirs). I think about how little people know about taking care of themselves, in relationship, and how they are missing out, on experiencing our shared human wealth. All of this, touches me with a special gratitude, and a deep grief.  So I feel moved to write, about the complex miracle, of our togetherness with each other (and all of Life).

There is something I KNOW that, I didn’t know I knew, until I went through the changes thrust on me by the stroke and its aftermath. As a result, I KNOW just how complex human existence truly is, and I believe this KNOWING is what makes me Lucky, reduces my fear of death, and allows me to relish my dependence. I want to share this, because I KNOW that others know it too, and don’t KNOW they do. This is, I believe, a secret that keeps itself.

We humans suffer from not KNOWING what we know. For instance, we each know (secretly, at least) how unique we are. I know I have spent a lot of my life-energy preserving my uniqueness, even though it often meant I knew I didn’t fit in. I didn’t know fully, just how unique I am. I thought it was my own peculiarity, perhaps a flaw in my makeup, or perhaps some desire for specialness that I narcissistically liked, and that doomed me to a life of loneliness. I knew I was unique, but I didn’t KNOW I was designed by Life to be. Thus my uniqueness, the gift I am, has been a source of a lot of fear, relationship pain, confused heartache and depression.

Similarly, I suffered because belonging has been an issue all my life. I’ve tried many things, to make myself acceptable, to fit in, to be loved, to be someone who belonged.

I was apparently born with some kind of homing instinct, which told me that my family, church, job, partnership, or society really didn’t know and care about me. I simply didn’t belong, as me. I knew I wanted to fit, but didn’t KNOW I did until recently.

The secret that seems to keep itself, was revealed to me when I nearly died. Until then, I kind of abstractly knew that I was intrigued, by wanting to be myself, and to fit in. During the time when I was being held on the doorstep of death, I came to see two things; my life was Life’s life, and I was paradoxically a whole and a part. Then, I came to KNOW that I am a holon (see “The Story Of The Holon,” chapter 4, of Embracing Life), a paradoxical aspect of the Universe, that is both uniquely whole, and simultaneously, a part of the whole, a thread in the fabric of everything. I am of service to it all, because I am what I was created to be — me — and, larger, an aspect of it all.

This kind of KNOWING, I now notice is latent in everyone. People don’t seem to fully KNOW what they know, but they seem to be instinctively headed toward KNOWING. I also have come to associate my dawning capacity for paradoxical awareness, to my realization that I (and others) am paradoxical. I see how I can be both independent (a unique whole) and dependent (a part of the larger whole) at once.  I don’t give up being me, when I am connected, in fact, I am most me, because I am connected.

Why does this secret keep itself so hidden away inside? Why do most of us know, even though we don’t KNOW? I can only speculate. I think that this semi-knowing is, in part, a cultural artifact, a result of growing up in a cultural reality that doesn’t itself KNOW, and that functions as if connection doesn’t exist. I think cultures tend to get away with this kind of skew, because they aren’t really ripe. I think age, and especially maturity, are more likely to bring this aspect of the complexity of reality into better focus. Many of our current cultures focus elsewhere, maintaining the illusion of separateness, and lack developing the necessary clarity of vision that perceives how connected humanity actually is.

For me now, knowing is somewhat abstract — it is like hearing about something — while KNOWING is experiential, based on something one has experienced. In the age of information seeming like knowledge, and often posing as such, experience is, to me the real teacher. So I KNOW that I can maintain the important part of my independence, while I am dependent. I’ve been doing it!

I recommend that others do the same. This is also an invitation into community, where one can make real and palpable the condition we are always in — whole unto ourselves, unique and free — AND — a part of it all, an integral aspect of the larger whole. As far as I can tell, the Universe thrives on as much Unity and Diversity as possible. That pulls us toward both —  people develop because they, KNOW it or not, are always trying to balance these twins.