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Creative Writing, Faith and Writing, Hope, Journaling, Quotes, Reflections, Self-actualization, Writing 101
After I wrote my post on Saturday (How can a caged bird sing?), I settled in to read for awhile. I’m reading a wonderful book by Australian author Amanda Curtin called Elemental. I was surprised to find a familiar quote in the book. Very familiar. In fact, I have it printed out on a piece of paper and, along with a green feather, stuck down into the frame of the Leuing cartoon I was posting about that day. I put it there to remind me never to lose hope. To state emphatically that no matter how long I’m stuck in my cage, I refuse to give up hope altogether. I can’t or I fear I will shrivel up and wither away. The quote is by Emily Dickinson.
Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
and sings the tunes without the words
and never stops at all.
~
~
Hope. That is the song the caged bird sings and always will whether those hopes are ever realized or not. The key to the singing, and maybe even to the cage itself, I reckon, is to learn to roll with the punches. To not sit passively by, but to learn from the happenings in my life.
Change is everywhere. People change, things change, time changes, and on and on it goes. Everything that IS changes. And not just OUTSIDE of me but INSIDE of me (and others), too. Really, change is about the only constant in my life sometimes. I can tell you with all sincerity, I HATE CHANGE. But I’m learning that I always have a choice as to how I deal with it. It’s a hard, hard lesson and I suck at it. I have to force myself to remember that an ending always also signals a beginning. T.S. Eliot said:
What we call the beginning is often an ending.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
~
Change is a double-edged sword. On one side I have to come to terms with the idea that something I once had has changed. And no matter how small or great the loss, how fleeting or lasting, my emotions come and go quickly — or I may just shut down. But what I’m finding as I’m dealing with the “change artifacts” I dig up during my spelunking is that I can’t do an end run around change. I may think I can, but eventually it’s bound to catch up with me and I will STILL have to grieve that loss.
No, the best way to deal with change, I’m learning, is to plow right through the middle of it. That’s how I find my new beginning. And that middle can be a scary, empty space. It feels pretty lonely. But that’s where I have to go to learn to let go of the way things were so I can grab hold of the way things can be, which is the other edge of the sword. Sometimes that happens quickly, sometimes it takes years — like dealing with the grief of my mom’s passing (Forgive me. I did not see it. I have failed you all.). No two of my journeys have ever been the same.
The important thing for me to remember is that the in between place can be a fertile time, too. I’ve found I daresn’t hurry the change. It’s best to just be myself, to learn to live in that emptiness and accept that what was is past. And I think I’m discovering that it’s ok to feel lost. That’s where I seem to be finding the voice to my true self, my soul. And that is where I hold on to the faith that God will send someone alongside me to hold the torch high as I pass through those dark, lonely places. People like my friends Kim and Plato. Henry David Thoreau once said:
Not until we are lost
do we begin to understand ourselves.
~
So if I’m lucky, while I’m in that in between place in my cave, I may find another piece of myself. And that’s the best place to start a new beginning, for that’s when I can begin to search for the lessons I couldn’t see in the middle. Truthfully, sometimes that in between space can feel like a desert not a cage. And when that happens, there’s an old Chinese proverb I keep stuck in my back pocket to read in those times I lose hope of things ever feeling right again.
~
Keep a green tree
in your heart and
perhaps a singing
bird will come.
~
And the song it will sing will be one of hope…
Impromptu Promptlings 
My friend!
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Always… But what does that mean? Am I even close to the mark? 😕
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Yes. You said it. My commentary would have been redundant. You are the mark and you described it in a way that others will resonate with the truth of what you wrote
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🙂
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There is so much in your post that is thought provoking, that brings up a million thoughts. I’m not sure that I’ll hit all the salient points. But I’ll try. First, and most obvious, is change is the only constant, as you’ve already said.
In Tarot, a lot of people groan when they see The Wheel ( 10th Major Arcana) because it signifies change is afoot. Well, even if we never saw that card, change would take place. Nature is the greatest teacher. Everyday brings change as we watch the world turn from winter to spring, to summer, to autumn, and back to winter. But it doesn’t then stop. It keeps on year after year. What you believe was lost is still there but in another form; perhaps sleeping, or just awakening. It’s the most natural thing. We look in the mirror everyday and see small changes, not just physically, but in the reflection of what we are feeling, thinking, or in the way gravity has its impact upon us. But we’re still who we were, just in a different form.
Your quote to T.S. Eliot: What we call the beginning is often an ending.
And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
It is the most simple principle in life. An ending simply opens the way for a beginning. I’ve been in that desert you described. It is the place where I feel, at once, lost, and at the same time, enthusiastic for what comes next. Because there is always a next. You speak of hating change, but you seem to actually keep on moving, to take that despair which is like a lemon and make lemonade out of it. You use it as the fertilizer for your process, and the most amazing things have grown from it.
And isn’t it true, as you also said, that we see with greater clarity when we’re not in the middle of crisis, but only after, and in that place where we are sitting with the feelings in the aftermath.
GREAT post!!!
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What can I say, O wise woman? Yes, yes, and yes again. I hate being in the desert though, even though God has always provided wellsprings. I have no patience for an extended dose of such solitary wanderings. It get too lonesome, followed closely by too needy.
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It sounds like this is being given to you so that you will work out how not to hate where you are, but accept that it is a pit stop along your path, that, once you understand that you’re actually not alone in the desert (is not God with you?) and to look into and try to find a way to channel or convert needy into something else, something that works for you, instead of controlling you? I don’t see being in that place as happenstance, but rather as opportunity to experience it as something different than we think it is?
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You know, I can be aware of that in my mind, but my heart is really, really bullheaded! (Just ask our friend PG!) But you’re right. I need to focus and not just get caught up in every gully washer that comes along with those infrequent rains. 😦
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When you said, “the best way to deal with change, I’m learning, is to plow right through the middle of it,” and “the in between place can be a fertile time, too,” you hit it right on the head. It’s like farming the fields. This is the time things are growing under the surface but you can’t see it yet. Forgive me for quoting something I wrote, but it reminded me of a Prayable called Miracle Grow.
http://www.beliefnet.com/Prayables/features/health/cure-for-body-and-soul.aspx
You’re on the right track, Lady Calen! The waiting really is the hardest part.
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What a beautiful prayer, Ruth! It’s clear I need to add you to my list of Desert Mothers — those who have gone before and know that wilderness can be survived. You are so right about how desolate that field looks sometimes. Thank you for sharing that. It’s good to know we have such empathetic traveling companions on the journey. {{{Ruth}}}
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Desert mothers… I like that! We all get encouragement from each other, and realize that we did get through those hard things. It just didn’t feel like we would while we were dealing with them at the time. Keep the faith! 🙂
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Methodist pastor and artist Jan L. Richardson has written a book called “In The Sanctuary of Women” that I journaled through for nearly a year. She has a chapter in it called “The Way in the Wilderness: The Desert Mothers.” I loved it! Highly recommend the book.
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