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Aging, Beginner's Mind, Buddhism, Compassion, Elder hood, Fathers, Fears, Forgiveness, gay, Healing, joy, Life, Love, Mindfulness, Mothers, Personal Growth, psychology, relationships, Shame, spirituality, Vipassana, Zen
It’s been over a month now since I made the trip back to Missouri to see my mother. It was a good trip. It was more than I could have imagined and even in my most secret of dreams I could not have dreamed the experiences that rose to meet me as I traveled with ease and compassion back to the scene of my youth.
I was just Bob back then.
Back then I was ashamed of my name. I was ashamed of who I was. Back then I was just an ordinary confused, angry, sullen, creative kid trying to make sense of life, doing the best I could and just trying to survive and find or steal a little happiness on the side. Back then I got really good at creating self-maintaining stories. I left Springfield thirty five years ago to discover myself – to go beyond Bob.
“There is a difference Robert, between changing or re-writing an old story and simply letting the story go……..and not replacing it with anything,” Katherine told me over lunch. “What happened with you in Missouri was the latter. All the old stories and memories of who you were and who your mother was and and your dad and all of that – all of that just simply dropped away…”
Some mornings now, I wake up and wonder “well where did 60 years of resentment go?” I do not know. There is space now where all that anger and confusion and doubt and fear had been.
“Who are you Robert without your stories? Who am I to you without your stories of me” she asked with a twinkle in her eye as she picked up the check.
I have no idea what will unfold – what will arise from the space – I trust the Dharma and yeah I get impatient, I want to push the river and make life unfold on my terms. Elder hood and pop psychology shows me that pushing never works and always brings unintended results. So instead, I practice mindfulness and Beginner’s mind. What else is there to do? We live by faith whether we know it or not. However, knowing makes a difference, it seems.
I know this feeling of living in the space where stories used to be. It’s weird, almost lonely. But, so very quiet. It’s a place to rest.
Robert, this is almost eerie that you invited me to read this. In June I went “home” to Idaho for a 50 year class reunion. We told stories about high school and we listened to one another tell about how their lives had unfolded. I drove through the little town that I left 50 years ago; I saw the houses that had once been familiar to me. I talked with one or two people that I knew. I drove out of town and said, I don’t need to come back here ever again.” I am grateful for my story then because it was one of faith, community and family and it gave me a foundation…but I have traveled a very long way from “home” and I like it here.
Besides, your pictures are breath taking.