PERIPHERAL VISION

I have two brothers and a sister.  The four of us were together recently. The gathering was for our oldest sister’s funeral.  These are always times for remembering.  We talked and told stories. As always, it was an interesting experience because it sometimes seems like we didn’t grow up together.  We talk about a given memory of a given event and it was almost like we weren’t at the same event.  We all remembered different things about it.  

In a recent conversation with a friend who has been studying the science of the brain, I discovered that the mind remembers in snap-shots.  And they are not taken with a wide-angle lens.These images are rather narrowly focused and there is limited peripheral vision.  Because the brain has a series of still photo that are connected to any given memory, we have to create a narrative around the images to make sense out of them. 

I think the narrative that is developed around the snap-shots is strongly effected by the emotional impact of the event.  For one person, the event might have been very painful.  For another it might have been deeply confusing.  For yet another, it might have had little emotional impact.  When we sit around and remember together, the narratives we create around the particular events becomes the truth about what happened.  And we can argue about whose memory is closest to the actual reality of the event.

But, I am not sure arguing is the best way to use our time. I don’t have to be right.  What I want to do is to stretch my understanding of our past with the narratives and perspectives of my siblings.  What was in my peripheral vision may have been the center of the photo for my sibling.  If I am able to see more clearly the snap-shot that they have captured, and if I can understand better the narrative they have created around the photo, I can develop a deeper appreciation for the complexity and rich texture of the life we lived.  

And who knows, I may even adapt my narrative and gain more insight into the way I act and the way I feel. 

DISTRACTED FROM OUR LIFE

Several years ago I took a long road trip.  I took Annie Dillard along in a book on CD.  I listened for hours as the “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” revealed wonderful discoveries she made while living for months in a cabin by herself in southern Virginia.  I have very fond memories of that trip as I remember all the stories she shared in the book. 

But, what I don’t have memory of is the road trip itself.  That is, I don’t remember anything about the scenery along the road in Indiana, Tennessee, Alabama, Texas, Kansas and Missouri.  I don’t remember the temperature because I was cocooned in my Audi.  I don’t remember where I stopped and ate.  I have no sense of how long it took me to get where I was going. The only thing I do remember about the road trip was the Texas State Police pulling me over because I was going too fast.  But, nothing else. 

Looking back on that experience, I am glad I listened to the book. It has enriched my life. But, I am troubled by how this might become a practice—being absorbed in something apart from where I am.  It is very easy to avoid life where we are living by being drawn into other places outside ourselves. Murray Schafer has called this “schizophonia”.  This represents a dislocation between what we see and what we hear.  

Now it is one thing to make choices to do this.  It is another to assume that this is the norm for living. Because, it seems to me that while we can enjoy life apart from where we are, we might miss some powerful experiences in our life because we are not paying attention to being here and now in this one place. We may miss our children’s growing up even when we spend time in the same house with them if we and they are always engaged in relationships a part from those around us.

Maybe what is important is to examine our lives and determine what is most important at any given time rather than simply allowing ourselves to be distracted from our life. 

LOVE CHANGE

I love change. I love it when the pain in my back changes to no pain.  I love it when the seasons change and we get different weather. I love it when laws are changed and people who love each other have the freedom to marry whomever they desire.   

I love change, except when I don’t.  I don’t like it when the laws that protected the voting rights of millions of minorities are struck down. I don’t like it when someone suffers because of the change in the economy.  I hate change when my sister was living and now she is dead. 

Freud suggested that being human is to love what we hate and to hate what we love.  Guess by this description I am human. 

But, regardless of whether or not I love or hate certain changes, the fact is I must learn to live with it.  I can try to grab onto what I love and keep it from changing.  And when it changes, I can hang onto the memory of the way things were.  I can attach myself so tightly to the way things were that I am create a prison made of the remains of that which has changed. 

Or, I can learn to live with change.  I can forgive the past for changing and find mercy for those who are responsible for the changes. I can open my heart to the possibility that there is something in the changed reality which I can celebrate.  I can try to imagine a new way of living in the absence of the way life was before. 

This seems to be important work if I want to flourish in my future.  My future is emerging from the changing of my  life the way it now is.  If I open my heart to it’s possibilities, maybe I will discover blessing.

EYES OPEN

Road trips are fun.  You never know what you are going to see.  We were driving on the interstate and saw this up ahead. Interstates are often sleepily dull. But, this was indeed a unique creature ahead of us. We couldn't figure out what it was but it got our attention.We got closer and it became clearer. We were looking at a fuselage of an airplane.  Now I had heard all my life that one of the reasons for the building of interstates was so that should there be a war, these wide highways could serve as landing strips for military aircraft. (Not sure if that is correct or not.) But I had never seen a plane do this.

The further we went we saw the rest of the story. There were the wings for this airplane.

And now we had seen it all.  This plane had been taken apart and was being shipped by truck to presumably be reassembled.

Sometimes we are confused when we hear people make a remark.  We think, "What is it that he said?"  We hear only distant echo of what the person is really talking about.  But, when we ask questions, and when we see more of the picture, things begin to make more sense.  And when we inquire further, the picture becomes clearer still.

When we keep our ears open and when we explore more deeply what we are hearing, the chances of understanding another person improve considerably.  Making judgements on the first impression may leave us responding without clearly knowing what the other person is trying to show us. And when that happens, we miss some amazing things.

THE LEAST OF THESE

I heard my mentor say it a long time ago. Fred Craddock shared one of his disciplines that helped shape the way he lived and communicated with others. 

He said that every evening he sat on his back porch to tie up the loose ends of his day.  And one of his disciplines was to try to remember the least significant thing that happened to him that day.

Think about that a minute.  When we wander through the memories of our day, there are often noisy moments that cry out and say, “I am really important.  Remember me.” But, if you keep asking yourself the question, “Is there something less significant that happened?” you will remember more deeply the fullness of your day. 

As I meditate each day, that is one of the results of cleaning my mind by paying attention to a single word or listening to my own breath.  The loud and demanding concerns, the anxieties that plague any human heart are often so loud and fill so much space that the “least of these” thoughts and feelings are drown out.  But, when they are quieted, emotions that lie deeply below the surface of each day niggle their way onto the surface of my mind. 

And sometimes those thoughts or emotions turn out to be more important in understanding myself than the loud voices.  Sometimes, when I quiet the self-judging voices, the voices that demand I be more than I am, I hear the quiet and tender voice of self-love that reminds me that I am enough.   

And when I listen to those within myself, I become more attuned to the quiet and shy parts of others who may need special attention.  I come to realize that sometimes others are not just what they let me see, but are rich and complex, highly textured and multi-faceted, beautiful creatures who enrich my life and the lives of others. 

So, try it sometime.  Listen to the least significant part of your day, the quiet and shy voices that sometimes get drown out by the noise of a loud and demanding world. Your soul will be richer for it.