A Different Form

I love words. Frequently they press themselves on me, demanding my attention. So it was no surprise when the word anew came leaping to my mind repeatedly this past week, clamoring for consideration.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to me. Even the physical world around me spoke the word. Yesterday, I woke to find a thin blanket of snow covering all but the warmest spots, and everything looked new. Untidiness was covered and clutter was blurred. Dead leaves and hibernating grass, which had been none too attractive, were hidden. It looked beautiful. It looked new.

Even the season is proclaiming newness. The solstice has opened us to light and vitality, the holiday season has turned our activities festive, and the New Year is only days away.

But while things may seem different on the surface, a nagging suspicion remains, that all the problems that have accrued, all the lacks that remain, all the unfulfilled hopes that languish...none of them have been transformed by the season.

We are taught that change is a constant. If it is always with us, what are our options with regard to it? We can fear it or embrace it, direct it or fall victim to it's whims, find the treasure in it or bemoan it's arrival, aching for what is familiar (even if not very satisfying) to return.

Here's where my word 'anew' come in. Anew means in a new or different form. Evidently the stuff of which my experience is made is the same stuff, however it works out for me. But that same stuff can take a different form. It can make my life anew...or not.

From where I sit, I have come to know that I am co-creator of my experience of life. The thoughts that I disallow, the emotions that I refuse to entertain, the company that I avoid, these are probably old forms for me, and ones that haven't produced what I have wanted to create in my life.

But those thoughts that I enthusiastically and repeatedly choose, those emotions that feel really good to me, that I seek and bask in, and the company of like minded people, whose dreams run parallel to mine, these create a new life for me, obliterating the untidiness, and making an opening for the clutter to be removed.

Here are cues to life anew for me, life in a new and different (and exhilarating) form.

Contentment

I don't often read poetry, but American Smooth, by Rita Dove found it's way into my hands. I was struck by four lines in a poem titled The Passage.

I suppose there are lonesome days before me,

but no more so than those that have already passed.

I can make myself contented.

We are having very good weather.

The poem is written in the form of an at-sea journal of a WWI soldier returning home. He reflects on the conflict he endured, his fellow soldiers and his own state of mind, while sharing tight quarters, cooped up on a troop ship that is continually on the lookout for submarine attack.

What struck me was this...though the circumstances of his life were dangerous, unpleasant and uncertain, he acknowledges what is and has been, consciously chooses a better frame of mind than the circumstances seem to indicate, then finds something positive to focus on.

I can make myself contented, he says.

I, too can opt for the gain brought by contentment that I choose. I turn away from pessimism and boredom, look ahead to hope as yet unrealized...and find contentment, sweet contentment.

I Feel Good

“How are you doing?”

“I feel great…how about you?”

Really? Do I truly feel great, or am putting on my game face, not letting anyone else know that inside I am depressed, angry, or at least frustrated?

Well, what about ‘fake it until you make it,’ you ask. If you pretend to feel good, maybe that will help you start to feel good. Nice try, but that has never worked for me. My true feelings seem to override my pretense.

So let me take a step back. What I do know is that I can feel better. Admittedly, it takes some effort. But when I make a break with feeling bad, using anything available to halt the cycle, (like petting my dog, singing off key any song that comes to mind, or just choosing to quiet everything…my situation, my activity, my thoughts) I get a bit of relief. I feel better.

I used to think of myself as a 'big dog' man

Reaching for that ‘better’ feeling does not take me all way to where I want to be. But it does stop my downhill plunge, does lift me out of the depth of the valley, does nudge me up the road from disappointed or bored.

So now if you ask me how I am doing, I may just hesitate a minute, smile and reply, “better.”

About that, I honestly feel good.