Eggsurrection

Back when I was trying my hand at writing for children, I drafted an Easter story that attempted to connect eggs with the resurrection. My theory was that while some women, Mary Magdalene included, went to the garden to visit the Jesus’ tomb, others were home preparing breakfast, and needing more sustenance than leftover unleavened bread, they were including eggs. When Mary came running in to announce she had seen and talked with the risen Christ, one wise old woman saw an analogy between cracking an egg with Jesus broken on the cross and now transformed to new life.

OK, it was a stretch and I’m really foggy on how I got to the end, but there are two things I do know. One is that we often use stories to explain what we cannot understand. The other is that regardless of your spiritual path or whatever religion you follow, at some point we cross from the able-to-be-understood to the realm of what-you-take-by-faith.

Throughout our lives there are leap of faith moments, although I’m not talking about the daily ones where we get on an elevator, train, ship or airplane and believe it will take us safely where we expect to go. Those are so common we don’t think of them in terms of faith, we simply expect the science that built it to play out as it has hundreds of time in our own experience. What I’m talking about are the faith moments that come when we’re at the bottom or at the top, when we’re desperate and grieving or jubilant and grateful.

Whether you now practice some religion, consider yourself more on a spiritual journey, or find that such beliefs, customs and traditions have no place in your life, I’ll bet there have been times where you have indeed had a take-by-faith moment. Perhaps it was when a parent died, when a good friend was in an accident, September 11^th, when you held your child the first time, had a great success or saw a whale. You were face with one of the bottom line scary questions, the ‘why?’ and the ‘how?’ and the ‘what?’ Such questions often come to me when I’m out in nature or awake at 3 a.m.

We’ve gotten away from talking about how we answer those questions, often because we’re afraid we’ll be laughed at or someone whose answer is different from ours may tell us we are wrong. I wish in our society and daily interactions we had more conversations about the questions and the answers. Then instead of being scared and alone in facing them we would remember that everyone tries to make sense of life’s mysteries, be it an egg hunt on Easter or what’s behind terrorist attacks.

Marilyn

Used to be

No matter what age you are, my guess is you could create a list of “used to be’s.” It could be something you used to be good at or how things in your life once were. The list would be a reminder that some things are now better than they used to be and some things are, well, different. I’ll bet we all used to be better at hopscotch than we are today.

I used to be a pianist. My reputation, that is, what was associated with me through my high school days, was tied up with music. Three moves ago I gave my piano to a local park district, and while I’ve tried electronic keyboards, the feel is not how it used to be and the easy skill of sight-reading and the confidence that fingers will land on the right keys is gone.

Here is something I’ve never shared with anyone. I used to be a good matchmaker, at least in my mind. I could picture friends and acquaintances together and was always gratified when they started dating, even though I had nothing to do with it.

I used to be able to sit on the floor for hours and was able to remember people’s names. While never big on sports or getting sweaty, I used to be a decent softball pitcher and croquet player. I remember vacations where we did a major thing in the morning, like a museum or botanic garden, and one in the afternoon before a fun evening at a local restaurant. Every day for a week or two or three. That was before I learned I needed downtime.

Through high school, my outlook was fairly black and white, based on my religious convictions. I was self-righteous and sure. That was before college where I discovered the world of grey. While my early life made decisions easier, once I saw the subtleties of society and faced moral issues personally, my world is now deeper, broader and more meaningful. I believe I’ve done well at comfortably melding some of those beliefs I once held with what I see and experience as reality today.

During summer vacation kids used to take off on their bicycles and be gone and safe all day. Oranges used to be more orange-y and apples sometimes had worms when you bit into them. TVs had rabbit ears and castor oil was a panacea for what ailed you. People dressed up for church, women suffering in girdles and hose and men in jackets and ties. Discrimination was accepted and was both out in the open with ‘whites only’ signs as well as hidden in code, such as who could or could not hold certain jobs based on some unwritten norm. Things like daily hot showers and computers that once were a luxury are now a necessity, even though there are parts of the world where women still walk miles for water and there remains a digital divide.

Many of our used-to-be’s reflect relationships – daughter, father, wife, and some of those relationships are gone. Others are descriptions – skinny, tall, blonde,or indicate skills or passions such as jogger or good cook. They all contributed to our identity and self-concept. With the loss of some there is grief, and with the loss of all there is the potential for growth. We can reframe. I have the tape that I made for my audition to the Conservatory of Music at Wheaton College and can hear my 16 year old self introducing the first movement to Beethoven’s Sonata Pathetique among other classical pieces. It’s a good reminder of the talent I once had. It is my hope that whatever retirement place I end up at has a community piano. I’ll enjoy playing while my contemporaries sing along to oldies but goodies and won’t mind the wrong notes nearly as much as I once would have.

Marilyn

Finding our roots

My seventh grade science teacher was excited about this fairly newly genetic coding called DNA. Now we can order a kit that, with a mouth swab, will inform us of our unique ethnic background. The test will either confirm what we've been told or be the source of many surprises. Family connections, however, are just one aspect of our roots. Here are just a few I jotted down:

 

• Political: On Tuesday we here in Illinois will cast our ballots in the primary. Collectively our democratic roots are over two hundred years old; individually we decide our outlooks and loyalties.
• Generational: When I was a new supervisor, part of my training included a movie called What You Are is Where You Were When. The essence of it was that major historic events help define who we are as individuals and as an age group.
• Purpose: In a conversation with our executives about a possible new initiative, the discussion centers around ensuring there is no mission drift, that is, we do not want to lose focus on why we are in business in the first place.
• Place and possessions: A couple of friends have made recent very significant moves that required a sorting through of all their stuff with an eye to what stays and what goes. Such major moves force us to find new roots even as we bring along some familiar items for comfort.
• Nature: Homeowners know that roots of trees can cause extensive and expensive damage to pipes, lawns and sidewalks and gardeners know to remove all roots of unwanted plants and shrubs. Timing is critical when dealing with trees and plants. On a walk the other afternoon I passed folks tidying their gardens. Trash bags contained not just garbage but dead plants they'd allowed to remain in the ground and be dormant in the winter knowing that would help in the spring.
• Events: Analysts of all kinds look for the root cause. Whether delving into an individual's fears or researching society's problems, we deal with cause and effect.
• Origins: Last night's Chicago Sinfonietta concert featured selections that were favorites of its founder who died last July. A cellist who has been with the orchestra since its inception 28 years ago, paid tribute to the conductor emeritus and shared memories of learning under his tenure.
• Products: Focus groups and consumer data help companies build customer loyalty which has people committed to particular products.
• Spirituality: Soon it will be Passover. Soon it will be Easter. Ramadan is in June. Rituals connect us to centuries of believers. 

If you think about it, we've got roots - connections - from our origin, childhood, schools, jobs, and neighborhoods. From long ago and from yesterday. Some continue to ground us, while others may still be strangling our growth. I may want to claim some and enjoy having them in the light even as I deny a few and work to keep them in the dark. Last week I suggested we use our wings and soar. This week, let’s dig.

Marilyn

Using our wings

When was the first time you flew? I don't mean in a plane. I mean when you conquered something you were afraid of. Maybe it was speaking in front of the class or performing at a piano recital, or when the training wheels came off your bike or slept without a light on for the first time. How about when friends double-dared you? If, unlike Flick in The Christmas Story, your tongue didn't get stuck on the pole and you succeeded at whatever they dared, your spirit flew. You then had the satisfaction of doing the 'nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah' chant at the gang that didn't think you had the courage.

Do you remember that feeling? The joy. The exuberance. The thrill. Even the relief as your spirit soared. How did those feelings manifest themselves? Maybe for you it was a quiet smirk. Perhaps your energetic self jumped around the yard or ran into the arms open and waiting to congratulate you. How did you celebrate? Were you alone in your rejoicing or was it shared? Did you get the equivalent of high fives? Did you go right back and do that hard thing again? 

If those are the early memories of using your wings, when was the last time? When recently did you try something new or did something hard and felt your spirit soar? Even a little? 

These days, it's a different kind of satisfaction, but no less needed and rewarding than when we were young. Trying to master, or even be semi-decent at, a new skill takes the patience and courage we may have forgotten. Too often we find a comfort zone and remain in it rather than stretching its borders. People important to me have done mid-life career changes, moved across or out of the country, found and left relationships, learned a new language. They've balanced the risks, managed the trepidation with laughter, and used their wings.

Me? I try new forms of art, discover new authors, learn new computer stuff (when I have to), but that's all fairly routine. Sometimes I spread my wings with this musing. But it is spring, and I'm feeling the need to do something daringly new. I'm going to look around for an opportunity to exercise my wings differently and encourage you to do the same. Let me know how you choose to soar.

Marilyn