I Married The Wrong Person (Hint: So Did You)

I’ve been there.

I’ve been in the place where it seems that every problem in my life would be solved if I had just married the “right” person.

Someone who “gets” me better.

Someone who does a better job at making me happy… ALWAYS was my demand.

I’ve been in the place where love seemed like a joke. Harsh and cutting emotions ruled the day.

The thing is, I am a marriage and family therapist.

Which means that I encounter in my clients the very same things.

And at times, they have held up a mirror to my own struggles.

It now seems almost comical – because I’ve been there – when I hear the most common marital complaints.

In the form of, “We are completely incompatible.”

And I say, “Yes. You are.” And I try not to also say, “Duh.”

Because when two human beings marry, incompatibility most likely will move into your guest room and will eventually camp out between the two of you in bed.

I also hear, “I think I married the wrong person. I didn’t marry The One.”

And I am understanding.

And also nauseated.

Because there is no

THE ONE.

There never was.

I know this clinically. I know this personally.

And one day I woke up.

Thank God, I woke up one day.

I woke up to see my own demand on another human being – my demand that he fill me with joy and happiness and my anger at his having failed at this job.

And I woke up to see that the areas that needed to change in our union would not change in the face of anger and demand that the other is not enough.

 

 And he is not enough.

And I am not enough.

And this knowledge freed me.

My journey went from being outward focused to being inward focused.

Why did I not start there?

???

So here is what I did do.

Now, this is not a “how to” in terms of saving a marriage. However it could be seen as “How To Not Drown in an Ocean of Circumstances and Self-Pity.” The title is a work in progress…

1. Self-Care – I began to take care of myself. I released him from this. One of my means of self-care has been yoga. As I breathed deeper and was stretched physically…

… and in all other ways…

I began to see inside myself.

The point is to find a means of slowing down. Whatever method of

self-care you choose, when you slow down from the fast

pace of life, you are able to take in more information.

About yourself.

And what I saw about myself is that I was expecting someone else to

make me happy rather than drawing from my own well.

Rather than drawing from the spiritual abundance that was available

to me.

2.  Counsel – We have spent a small fortune on therapy. Years of

therapy. And it was worth every penny.  And for this unfolding part of

my journey, it became clear to me that I needed the spiritual guidance

of my pastor. He provided that with care, compassion and clear

direction. Find a trusted source to help you see the things that you

can’t.

3.   Contemplative prayer – again, the journey is inward. And it is

challenging. I found that the surest way to stay stuck is to be outward

focused. Find the courage to go inward. There are many books on the

topic. One I am currently enjoying is Into The Silent Land by Martin

Laird. It is both practical and transformational.

4.   Be honest with trusted people – I have people in my inner circle who

know all and see all…because I give them all. I give them all the bloody,

infected, mutilated details. And they help me to carry this. And

they ask me hard questions. And they cheer me on. And they do not let

 me sit inside my whining excuses, savoring every wound I can

 remember so I can validate my pain and my status as an 

emotional victim. In other words, they empower me. Thank you, God,

for these trusted friends.

And now I live in a place of wanting to support and maintain the fragile work that has been accomplished in me. I still do yoga. Probably always will. I still find silence.

I crave it like nothing else.

I still talk with my trusted resources. And I try to be transparent. And then more transparent.

Because I know where I have been.

And I do not want to go back.

After a few years of being on this journey, I was very suddenly hit with a realization that brought quick tears to my eyes.

I looked at the man that I vowed to walk beside through life

Til death do us part

And I realized that I loved this man more than I ever had.

And I told him so.

So it turns out that I married the wrong person.  And I am the wrong person.  And yet somehow, there truly is no better place for me to be.

On Eleven Years

He is analysis. I am intuition.

He is fire. I am ice. (Ok, maybe we’re both fire.)

He is scholar. I am free spirit.

He is yang. I am yin.

He is iron. I am iron.

He is the one who balances me. I am the one who balances him.

He is the one who balances our checkbook (God bless this man!). I am the one who balances pretty much everything else. Tee hee.

The reason marriage is a union is not because two souls lose their identities in one another, but because those identities are given the opportunity to grow muscles, mercy, and a garden of memories together.

And create balance – the very word necessitates the presence of two.

I have read that marriage is a mirror.

It is the great opportunity to have the good, the bad and the ugly of your own soul reflected back to you in another human being.

The truly brave will see what is in the mirror. Others will smash the glass.

And I have wanted to .

Glass smashing seems a great hobby to pick up at times.

But I’ve seen the other side of perseverance.

It is a place of deep, cleansing breaths. A place where this love is nurtured, strengthened and beautified in ways we couldn’t have dreamed of when we said those fateful words.

I do.

When we were infants.

So thank you.

You who have endured me for eleven years.

You who have loved me faithfully and loyally.

You who have never allowed me to wonder if you thought I was beautiful.

In your eyes.

You who have never lied to me. Ever. Not even when feelings would be spared otherwise.

You who have become more tender and more gentle with each passing year of being a father.

I am so glad I said yes. I would have been a fool to do otherwise.

We do not have something perfect. But we have something good. Something funny. Something real.

And no cheesy love song will ever do our love justice.

Happy anniversary, Handsome. I love you.

Tonight I Went To A Funeral

Reblogged from Modern Family Ancient Faith:

Tonight I went to a funeral.

Songs of grief, pain, despair…and hope...

Rang through a candlelit space as our hearts were filled with Lamentations.

When an event occurs that shakes the very foundations of the universe, it is good to enter in…

Again…

Into the mystery that is eternal – and therefore beyond the laws of time.

So tonight at this funeral…

Read more… 258 more words

Repost

My Lenten Companions

There are a few dear friends who will accompany me over the next several weeks and provide water and food for the tiny mustard seed that lives and grows in me. Not in any particular order, here is a brief introduction to each.

The Sense of Wonder by Rachel Carson Recommended to me by a friend who embodies the sense of wonder in the world, this book is filled with the most beautiful photographs and well written moments of wonder in nature. Rachel Carson is called “the patron saint of the environmental movement” and died in 1964 just as she was finishing this book. Looking at the photographs in this book, I am instantly transported to the coast of Maine. And the reawakened wonder in my heart instantly turns childlike to the Maker of All Things.

“A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that clear-eyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe-inspiring, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood. If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength.” -Rachel Carson

Divine Eros Hymns of Saint Symeon the New Theologian. I do not have words adequate to describe the effect what is stirred and pulled out of me and renewed when I read these hymns. But the effect is of some transcendent poetry that leaves me with both greater clarity and greater wonder after a time of meditation on the words.

Hymn 6
“How are You both a fire gushing forth,
and also a sprinkling water,
how do You both enflame and sweeten,
how do You make mortality disappear?
…
How do You drag darkness to the light,
how do You seize the night,
how do You illuminate my heart,
how do You entirely transform me?”
-Saint Symeon The New Theologian
*”New Theologian” in the Orthodox Church is a relative term – he was born in AD 949.

The Inner Kingdom Metropolitan Kallistos Ware speaks with intelligence, kindness, beauty, and wisdom that is otherworldly – how fitting that he should write a book of this title. As Jesus said in Luke 17: 21(KJV) “Behold, the Kingdom of God is within you.”
On the topic of silent prayer or prayer of the heart…
“{T}his silence is not vacant and negative – a blank pause between words, a short rest before resuming speech – but intensely positive: an attitude of alert attentiveness, of vigilance, but above all of listening.” – Metropolitan Kallistos Ware

The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective This is an old favorite that I’m doing with a small group of intimates to further see and understand ourselves. The Enneagram is my favorite personality assessment – I offer this to clients and pursued family and friends to find out their number. I also love the spiritual direction of this book – spiritual direction that is specific to each by offering what we need most to be able to see ourselves – a mirror. I am an in-process Seven, by the way.

“Our sin and our unredeemed perception of the world is also, paradoxically, the method that helps us to get to our driving force. When we commit our “favorite sin,” we are “fully there.” That is why we can’t simply “give it up”:it belongs to the specific way that we give our life a goal and a direction. It belongs to the survival strategy that we adopted as children. We’re all creatures of habit. We keep retreating back to where we feel at home. That is why we find our gift where our sin is…” In other words, we find the potential for our greatest strengths in our greatest weakness.

Last and certainly not least, The Bible and the Holy Fathers for Orthodox Christians – daily scripture readings for Lent from Old and New Testaments, plus nurturing ancient commentary that transcends time and trend.
“The proud man thinks he can comprehend everything with his mind. The Lord does not grant this…The Lord does not manifest Himself to the proud soul. Pride is difficult to detect in oneself, but the Lord leaves the proud to be tormented by their impotence until they humble themselves.” – Saint Silouan. Ouch. Lord, have mercy.

How will you be enjoying and celebrating this beautiful season of preparation?

Unconditional Positive Regard

Have you ever truly felt acceptance?

Carl Rogers is an early father of modern psychotherapy and coined the term “unconditional positive regard” in therapy jargon as the essential element to any healing that may come to the client. This is so basic a topic that it’s covered in middle and high school psychology classes as well as the college and post graduate levels. At first glance, it seems commonplace and dull – seemingly a passive approach to therapy rather than one of the more active models.

But there is nothing common about unconditional acceptance.

In my experience, there is nothing else more foundational to healing of any kind. I’ve watched clients respond with astonishment when given the gift of this kind of acceptance.

“Really?”

“Well, that’s because you don’t know me yet.”

“You should tell my (insert husband, wife, mother, father, boss, kids, etc.) that.”

“Wow – I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that. And I’ve been in ministry for most of my life.”

And that’s usually just in the first session. The statements get more profound as deep acceptance is experienced by a person who has been willing to show all their vulnerabilities, wounds, and the resulting maladaptive behaviors.

This deep acceptance isn’t saying “you can do anything you want and I’ll think it’s good.” It isn’t implying that there are no dysfunctional, maladaptive behaviors. It is also not giving license to engage in these behaviors.

Simply put, unconditional positive regard says “I see beyond your behaviors. I see your heart. I see who you would be. Who you will become. That you have intrinsic value simply because you exist and there is life in you.”

From this place, I have personally experienced and witnessed the effects. Acceptance becomes fertile earth. What was once putrid, vile and base is transformed into the perfect Ph balanced compost for growth to occur. New things can grow and nourish the soul.

There are moments in my life where I’ve received this – a trusted moment of confession; a small circle of friends that welcome my moments of pain and sadness as much as they welcome my joy and laughter; and I’ve even learned that healing and transformation occur when I give myself acceptance rather than shame, self-condemnation, and messages of inadequacy and failure.

So I’m curious.

Have you ever received unconditional positive regard? Deep acceptance?

Have you given it as a gift to others?

Transcendence

Transcendence.

This word has been floating around in my mind and soul for a long time now.

Always seeming to dance and hover right in front of me, occasionally resting on my shoulder, like a butterfly,…

And then moving just out of my reach, with a slight flit of it’s wings.

This elusive, abstract, esoteric concept draws me –

and with longing, I pursue.

As I define it (and I realize, that’s not necessarily saying much) transcendence is the ability to experience peace, calm, joy, centeredness, love and focus regardless of the circumstances in which you find yourself…

in which I find myself rather more frequently than I would like.

Recently, I happened upon a reading that described the Lotus Flower. As I read, I could feel myself …

inching forward in my chair.

The lotus roots itself in the soil at the bottom of ponds or streams. It has a rather long stem and the elegant flower and leaves rest steadily on top of the water. The movement of the water can move the flower, but it is not uprooted because it’s depth is established regardless of the flow.

Hmmm.

Then I read the next piece. Gasp!

Many Lotus Flowers actually have the singular ability to regulate their own internal temperature…
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nelumbo_nucifera#Botany)

!!!!

In case your mind isn’t blown – plants just can’t do this. And very few varieties of the lotus flower can. In fact, very few varieties of people can.

Now, I’m not going to make assumptions about you, but I’ll confess that I am guilty.

Guilty of not being rooted.

Of being swept being swept out to sea by the movement of the water, which happens to be my reacting emotions at any given time. Floating unsteadily on the two planks I’ve tied together with my shoelaces.

In a storm. Cursing the wind. Cursing the circumstances and humans involved.

Reacting with violence in my heart

to my perception of what is going on externally.

Unable to remember that I actually have choices

Regarding what I feel.

Regarding my perceptions.

My thoughts.

My judgments.

My responses.

Being Orthodox, my eyes often turn to the East. Even facing the direction of East is thick with symbolism for the Orthodox Christian.

Facing the Far East is not exactly the same thing – however, the wisdom contained in the lotus flower is one analogy I’m happy to borrow.

Because I have been that person.

I have watched it play out in others.

And I have been honored to work with still more…

We all profess our great faith and yet we have lived on

two planks and shoelaces…

We even add huge sails

So we can really get some distance on those stormy waters – so we can really feel the pain.

And call down guilt upon those who caused it.

We curse the winds of our own circumstances

With no awareness of the ability to regulate

The internal emotional and spiritual temperature

Of the human soul.

Withering in the desert

I make my way to this body of water

Though He tells me to walk to Him

I fear

I do not trust

Not really.

But I breathe and step out

Dying roots make their way to moist, nourishing soil

Vine, stem, spine grows thicker.

Stronger.

And I don’t merely walk.

I dance on the water.

Beauty of soul, unseen until now.

Blossoming joy, always looking to the heavens…

Always filled with heaven.

Yes, the wind will blow and I will be moved.

The cold winds will blow and I will be tempted to give up.

Again.

And again.

But then I will remember myself.

And Him.

Him to Whom I devote all – every breath.

And remember that I am rooted.

Deeply rooted.

And my peaceful reply to my circumstances shall be…

“Look. The wind is blowing.”

Smile.

Amen.

j.g.

So. In your life. Lotus? Or two planks?

*From a professional point of view, I must emphasize that my words here do not advocate a smile through any kind of abusive circumstances. Part of my view of transcendence is (1) knowing when you need help (2) seeking help and health (3) and accepting that major life changes, some not so easy, will likely result from your courage. Transcendence is never to be confused with avoidance or denial. The ability to stand boldly, bravely, and peacefully against abuse of all kinds, while avoiding the pitfall of passive aggressive hostilities, is likely a necessary inclusion to my prior definition of transcendence.

Peeking Between Lashes

Peeking between lashes, I squint and search. Is it still early?

Yes. Sigh.

Is it so early that it’s cruel to my brain and body to get out of bed?

Slightly.

But I listen. Because I have to be sure.

Sure that I have that sacred time. Time before the little feet and little voices I adore will come rushing into the morning light. Into the morning silence. Breaking the morning silence, as they rightfully and joyfully must do.

But for a few more moments…silence.

With military stealth, I tiptoe to the stairs and step over the pile of unmoving fur, Thing 1 and Thing 2. Otherwise known as the dogs, who clearly believe it’s too early to exist because they remain breathing statues as I pass.

Creeping down with greatest caution, I preserve the slumber of my three beloveds still sleeping in their beds.

and I preserve the moments of silence that will be my oxygen

my inhalation and exhalation

with all that this day will bring.

Windows open and the sound of creation whispers in my ears

The teakettle boils and the steaming water is poured over the bitter grounds that are pressed into a nurturing liquid.

I breathe.

I listen.

My instinct is to begin my list. My ideas, wants, preferences, polite demands, self-indulgences, justifications, and entitlements.

But in a brief moment of insight, I put my instincts in the corner to think about what they’ve done.

Instead I listen.

I light a candle…and I listen.

I read…and I listen.

I recite prayers. Words written by souls far more worthy and wise than I.

And I listen.

I speak my own soul. Words that I can only utter here and now.

And I listen.

And the world becomes less about me.

How I am perceived. What I have accomplished. Where I have failed.

And a smile overtakes me as possibilities form in my mind.

In a world where I am

willing to decrease…in the silence…

joy.

If God Were Made in My Image

If God Were in My Image…

He would be convenient, comfortable and cozy – like the best blanket ever.

He would encourage me not to deny myself, because that might make me grumpy which would make me sin against others which would be bad. Right?

So. No denying.

If I did, however, in my grumpiness, do something to “harm” someone else, God would provide me with biblical evidence as to why it was clearly his or her fault.

Really, they made me do it. Caused me to stumble and such.

In the Great Cafeteria of Faith, he would nudge me in the ribs if I accidentally put any healthy asceticism on my plate. “Not that. It tastes terrible!” he would say.

If God were in my image, I could piously say that I am the chief of sinners, like that great Apostle. And God and I would smile at each other and share a knowing glance because I’m obviously I’m way holier than most people. I can even tell the eternal residence of most people. It’s a gift.

Especially friends, family members and politicians.

If God were in my image, he would be angry about the things that anger me. Because human emotions are real reliable.

He would be on my side in any political or theological debate. He would provide me with the ultimate comeback in both situations. Slam dunk, high five, call your mama, go and hide.

Yep.

If my image were the thing, then God would tell me that it’s ok that people are sick, suffering, starving and whatnot in the world. He would definitely encourage me to give some money, if I felt “led” but would advise me not to think about it too much because the discomfort could exacerbate my stomach issues.

I also wouldn’t have to care much about the planet he created because, well, I just don’t think he really cares that much about pollution, disappearing forests and irreplaceable species. My job is to consume.

Besides, if he wants the planet fixed, he can fix it. The Creator can recreate – damage undone.

If God were made in my image, I could freely judge and condemn:
Republicans
Democrats
Muslims
Fundamentalists
Tree Huggers
Rednecks
The French
Catholics
Prostitutes
All Non-US Territories
Vegetarians
The homeless
Charlie Sheen
Capitalists
Charleton Heston
Socialists
And OJ Simpson.

And I could go on, but you get the gist of my image of God.

If he’s like me, then everything is relative and depends on my current emotional state. Here’s how it would work:

If I want it, I buy it.

If I’m angry, other people get smited . (yes, Merrian Webster, I realize that the past tense of smite never made it into your little book. SMITE.)

If someone cuts me off, a cop is waiting to give a ticket. God and I agree on what constitutes justice.

If I’m simply unhappy, then I married the wrong person and God will now attempt to provide the right one. I, however, am always the right one.

If I’m insecure, I can focus my criticism on anyone who is “making” me feel bad about myself.

If I’m annoyed, then I can endlessly whine about how stupid all people are and he just listens and listens. He thinks they’re pretty stupid too.

I could freely gossip about how the lives of others have gone wrong – because I would have done better if I were in their shoes. Naturally.

If I’m sad, then I will ask him what in the world he’s thinking because he’s obviously falling down on the job.

But, of course, a “God” who is in my image, wouldn’t let me feel anything but happy, happy, happy. Because, duh, God loves me so only good things will ever happen.

Relationships will be easy, money will be plenty, everywhere I go, life will fit me like a glove. (see prior OJ reference)

Life would be perfect. Eden. I would view trials and difficulty as a sign of sin or a deficit in belief and judge the poor little dears who had to deal with such things. Bless their little hearts, as we say in the South.

I could live my life, making my faith all about me. Never seeing.

Missing the point.

So, what is the point?

To love.

To love.

To love.

“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.” 1 John 4:16

God, forgive me for the times I’ve tried to mold You into what I want.

To ponder – how have you made God in your image?

Peace

Written for one I did not know well, but the impact of the life lived has been profound. Even from a distance.

Peace, where are you?

We can’t seem to find you

In all the usual places

Where we used to find you.

You’re not in the families

Not much, anyway…

Not in husbands and wives and budgets and to do lists and events

And emptiness…

You’re not in the churches

Not most of them, anyway.

I’m sure you went by there

But you’re kind of plain and you look poor

So…

You know. Nothing personal.

You’re not in the schools

Not the one in the ‘hood with threats of violence

Fear and pain loading lethal weapons.

Not the one in the ‘burbs with an anxious looks at the scale.

Toothbrush in hand, trying to purge from their bodies that which cannot be

purged.

Caring so much about what they see in the mirror.

Yet not seeing at all…

And then I saw you, Peace.

Like an immortal fragrance carried on the wind

The scent wafted past me, through me, and left me…

Wrecked. Beautifully wrecked.

You were radiantly hidden inside an old vessel

With gentle shining eyes

That gave no hint of the pain they had endured.

Continued to endure.

But I saw you

Transcendent light hidden in a gentle soul

With a gentle voice

And for a moment

I understood…

About a seed

Growing into a tree

Giving shelter to the birds of the air.
(Mark 4:30-32)
j.g.
Preserve your inner peace at any cost. Do not trade your inner peace for anything in the world. Make peace with yourself and heaven and earth will make peace with you. St.Isaac the Syrian

On the Pursuit of Silence

Silence.

Silence is…

Elusive.

So much so in our day

In our way

Of living like we’re running

Like we’re hiding

Like we’re desperately needing something

other that what we desperately need.

Silence.

Mystical

Mythical

The stuff of Legends

Heard of in some Eastern tale

Dismissed because, what do we care about some Eastern tale?

Dismissed because how do we get more of something that’s

less?

We want more of more.

In our day

In our way…

Silence is the

Oxygen

Balm

Peace.

Of my spirit. Of yours.

I run from it too.

Avoidance – my friend, ally, seducer.

Keeps me cozy, comfy, happy…

Numb.

But I crack the mold

Of the way I’ve been

The way I am…

And I begin

At least begin!

To run toward rather than away from the things

That carry me to…

Oxygen,

Balm,

Peace.

Silence.

j.g.

“Peace should reign in our hearts. Peace and silence.” Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica