That Perfect: October 2017

Well, it isn't totally silent. That's a half-truth. There's music in the background. Because if it's up to me (and right now, it is), there will always be music on. And there's also the occasional soft thud of kitties pouncing after each other on the hardwoods. But I have a deep and unexpected serendipitous inner silence tonight. I find myself alone in my house with no one else here since around 11 or so this morning until sometime tomorrow afternoon since my family went camping. The last time I was totally alone for any real length of time was when I was away staying at a hotel for a conference. And even then, I had events and programs to attend, and my parents were just down the hall, so there wasn't that much alone time. And that was months ago. And I don't count office time away from home as "alone" because though I'm in my own office space, it's still social at any given moment with the ring of the phone or a shadow at my door. Maybe it's been years. YEARS since I spent a night alone at home. I literally don't even remember the last time. Because of my surgeries, I haven't traveled for work and stayed at random strange hotels in years, and I've been just here. And the handful of other trips I've taken, I've been with others the whole time. So, still not alone.

But tonight, I am in this usually bustling house that feels so different with just a single soul in it. So, here feels strange tonight. This house is only my space for just a short while. Time moves more slowly. I've been wanting some alone time lately, preferably with some cliffs... I've got no cliffs today (those will come later, I'm determined), but, nonetheless, a little twinkling space carved out just for me.

I've been writing. And absorbing a lot of music. And I've had a few phone calls. And I took an extra long shower. Maybe I'll watch a movie. But now? I'm just sitting here wearing my favorite black dress with some dark lipstick, just because. And I'm feeling the fabric of my chair lazily with my fingertip. And I'm noticing my toes on one foot intertwined with the ones on the other foot. And tossing my unruly curls from where they have fallen in my face from time to time. And remembering here and there to take sips of Gatorade as I recover from the vicious norovirus attack I had yesterday. I worked much of the day from home today making up for yesterday's illness. But now I've got ME time. I have to listen to and just be ME.

"I guess it's just me. And me." (Hey Jupiter, Tori Amos)

"I used to think that the day would never come." (True Faith, New Order)

I think this is deeply good for me. But it's a strange good. "Take the sun apart and put it back together." (Sinkership, Sin Fang Bous) Maybe I am the sun today.

"One night to speed up truth." (Heartbeats, Jose Gonzales) When there's no one to listen to but yourself, you just do. And I notice my own heartbeat more than usual.

"You say go slow, I fall behind." (Time After Time, Iron & Wine) I always seem to fall behind with this damn hip of mine. Everyone's steps are faster than mine. Maybe I deserve it for walking too fast for all those years...

And of course my playlist randomly ended up on "Silent All These Years" as I'm wrapping this up. Because of course it did. I told you all in the first line that it wasn't actually silent. Or I'm never really silent. But I knew that. Not when music colors everything in my head.

When I stop to think about the incessant disagreement all around me, lately the political climate has made an easy illustration of this, I am coming to realize a fundamental truth underlying all of it. Something is missing. I'm getting ahead of myself.

And this post isn't about politics. I generally dislike discussing politics, in fact. It might seem like it's about law in a moment, too. But it isn't really about that, either. It started with a rumbling in my mind early this morning, and I'm just now able to sit and write about it. You're on a rambling ride with me, so sit tight.

Let's think about systems. I don't mean circle-of-life-type biological systems. I'm thinking of those that are constructed. Those that govern us because we agree, explicitly or tacitly, to be bound by them. Maybe it's just by happenstance of birth and geography (as an aside... is that really happenstance?). But in any event, there are many constructs with rigid formulae that govern how things are done in the world. Or "should" be done. And speaking of "govern," our system of laws is a good example. So let's begin there. Why on this great green Earth do we disagree SO much about what laws should be in place? I mean, we've fundamentally agreed to be a society bound by laws. Granted, there are countless laws you've never heard of if you're not a lawyer, and even if you are a lawyer (due to specialization, of course), and those largely aren't controversial. But many of them are. Why can't we all just agree? There are countless reasons, of course, and I won't devolve into the myriad reasons we all have preferences and prejudices because of our own situatedness. None of us has that much time on our hands. But what's got me thinking is this: it feels like there is some deep and vast human piece of us that is being undermined by whatever law (or other thing in the world of systems that herd us and bind us) it is we disagree with. Maybe it's nameless. Maybe it's ephemeral. But there's something in our core that conflicts with it. Gnaws at us a little. We are lucky if our self (for lack of a better term) isn't in conflict with the law or rule of the moment. Maybe we concur with it, but don't fully agree (like a concurring court opinion, for example, which agrees with the result but has a few bones to pick). We're on board with it enough to not get angry, but we take umbrage with something about it. But overall, we will go on our merry way and probably forget about it at the end of the day. But others? Well, some of them just eat at us. Here's the judicial dissent territory. Like some of Scalia's dissenting opinions shortly before his death, there may be significant vitriol in our dissent. We may be so unnerved by it our very core is shaken. I see lots of that these days in politics (I know you see it, too, no matter where you fall on the political spectrum).

And yet, even though we may dissent, even vehemently, with a law, in the grand scheme of things, we are still bound by social contract and civility, not to mention the threat of criminal punishment (if nothing else), to abide by the rules of the game of life. In law school I had the revelation that our Constitution only works because we SAY it does. Think about that. I hope you have a *mind blown* moment like I did when I realized that. It has power because we decided it does. No, really. Think about that. And "we" isn't even "us"; it's our predecessors. And some of those who crafted it and the laws made purportedly under its authority may have had pristine motives dripping with goodwill. Many of the deciders and makers of laws, as we know, though are power hungry and ruled by ego. And just want to perpetuate whatever system benefits them personally. We all know some people with power who respect that power and have earned it. But we also know many don't. They inherit it or have money (which, frankly, talks). Plain as that. And so it goes. We are bound. To something that may or may not have been well-intentioned. And when we disagree, something in us is stifled, but we go on, just the same. Because we just do. It's kind of crazy if you think about it. And amazing that it even works as well as it does given where I'm going next.

And it's damn tricky when you're good at the game of life. It can swallow you up so completely you forget something important. We can all play the game, within the confines of the rules, and even enjoy it. Whatever "game" it is you choose out in the world. Maybe a job. Maybe some other role. It's all a grand mental puzzle. But there's an inherent conflict there, right? In any game with rules, there's always something that exists outside the game. Beyond the rules. The game board is a rectangle and has boundaries. And beyond that... here's the thing... the game doesn't even exist. Another epiphany I had in law school in my Contracts class was when I was learning about promises and obligations. And, given my own rule-following sensibility, I was okay with that concept. Until we started talking about the concept of breach. What happens when a contract is breached? I had a mental disconnect. Um, breach? Aren't we supposed to not break contracts? Well, it just so happens that there are laws that govern when contracts are breached, too. Rules for when the rules aren't followed. Who pays what. What damages might apply. Ah, the irony. Hell, my practice area as a lawyer is restructuring and reorganization, which is a fancy way of saying corporate bankruptcy. The Bankruptcy Code is full of laws about precisely what happens when things go sideways. When people and entities don't meet their obligations and promises. There's even a concept in bankruptcy where a debtor can "reject" a contract. I mean... stepping back, though it's a completely commonplace occurrence in my law practice, again... mind blown that there's a lawfully sanctioned way to do that. Because why? Because we decided that's what the rules would be.

So I get caught up in the game of life. Just like you. And just like everyone. Well, maybe in my own personal way, but you know what I mean. We all work for a living because we have to. Hopefully we enjoy the game we choose to play out in the world. And I do enjoy my job as a lawyer. I get to think about fascinating and complicated things, research about things I didn't already know, write a lot, and take actions to help clients accomplish their goals. It's very rewarding in many ways, as jobs go. It's also a necessary thing. It just is. I also have various other roles in my life; most critically, I am a mother who is simply crazy about her amazing kids and all the love and work that goes with that.

But notwithstanding my being swirled up into the systems that make up my daily life (job, kids' schools, social norms, various obligations of all sorts), someone said something poignant to me the other day. She reminded me to never forget my private life. My private life. Ah, that. Say that again. The me that is quietly inside under the surface of all the other things I do. And it's rich and velvety in there. When I take the time to root around and nestle in. It's in that inner life that self-consciousness melts away. And gimmicks. And skepticism. And fear. And distrust. And judgment. It is there, in the quiet inner self that there are no systems or rules. No games--only the space beyond the game board. Only the things I allow to be there. Or that I create and put there. It is there that what is universal or essential about our spirits can just BE. Our spirits and very souls are at ease. Whatever dwells in there is mine, and it is beautiful.

What is that space? Really, what IS that? It's the question we humans have been pondering since the very beginning through science, philosophy, and religion. The WHY endeavors (they're all really sisters in substance, though some are more sophisticated and logical than others). The ways of thinking that get us pondering what this is that is IN us, IS us, is UNIVERSAL about us. It's more than just analytic thought, though. Science began as INQUIRY. As CURIOSITY. As WONDER. As the Little Prince says, it is only with the heart that one can see rightly. (Or maybe it's the vagus nerve? The gut sure seems involved, too, somehow. And nerves. Don't get me started on how sensitive they are to things.) Beyond the games. And again to the Little Prince: What is essential is invisible to the eye. This is why the disciplines that seek to understand seem so majestic. Because what they are asking IS majestic. They seek truth. The something deeper. Without shallow motive of any kind. And disciplines that internalize the why and then create something from it, be it art, music, writing... those. Wow. Those literally create magic in the world that simply didn't exist before. They come from that universal, quiet, perfect self responding to the thinking and feeling parts of us responding to the very act of being we experience on some deep vibrating level (the seventh wave perhaps?). And love. And awe. The inexplicable things that come from within... that respond to beauty, to connection. That, my friends, is all outside the game. Outside the systems. Off the board. And this is why the external systems that are forced on us by social contract detract from, can never be on the same wavelength as, what is inside. This is why we inherently can never agree with the constructs in their entirety. It's better to go to our inner spaces than to dwell on such conflict.

Last time I visited my hometown, I went to church with my family, which I haven't done in years. It was the church I grew up in. We went every week, sometimes twice, when I was growing up. There was a sense of community and ritual about it that was always comforting to me, even if I always questioned probably too many things. But the cool thing about that church in particular is it is a denomination that I was always told is the thinking person's church - it's an Episcopal church. It was always okay to question. There wasn't hellfire being hurled at me. I didn't have to recite Bible verses in Sunday School. There were lots of hugs. And helping things we did for others. And lots of dinners and holding hands. And coming together for things. Peaceful, really. It's red brick, sits majestically at the end of the street I grew up on, and it has red velvety carpet inside. And there's a bell in the tower I know how to ring with a secret button and did ring many times as an acolyte in my youth. And the stained glass windows in that place are the most beautiful I've ever seen. I've been to some astounding cathedrals and churches all over the globe, and these are still my favorites. I'm not sure how very many hours I've stared at them in this life of mine. (On a humorous note, I told my parents that I think these windows with beautiful man disciples with long flowing hair are why I always had a penchant for men with long hair... subliminal messages embedded in my psyche from church windows. Maybe that's weird. Don't care. I was going to include a photo here, but the ones I took didn't come out very well.) Despite my familiar love for that place, I am still a questioner, still not religious, and still don't regularly attend church. Though I can recite all the prayers from memory without even consciously thinking about them. But I am spiritual, no doubt. I don't know what moved me to attend church that morning (my parents had expected I wouldn't), but I am glad I went that Sunday about a month ago. There was something holy in myself with which I somehow connected while absorbing that space during the service. I admit, I have an amorphous sense of what God is. But I feel that whatever God there is simply must be that spiritual beauty within ourselves, especially as manifested in connections of that pure beauty with others. A real and pure symbiosis. THAT is what feels spiritual to me. Holy. There is no better word. But nothing so small as a politicized man-made god used for beating others into submission (literally or figuratively) can capture the deep purposeful point-of-it-all beauty I'm describing (she says knowing she is writing about her own person-made conceptions... ever aware of the irony). There is, I know in my bones... my heart... the primordial dust from whence I came... a universal spiritual connection we can tap into when and if everything lines up. I suppose if it lined up all the time, we'd be in some utopian world we couldn't even appreciate anymore because even true beauty would be too mundane to notice. Serendipitous connection and the spaces in between remind us though that we are these spiritual beings underneath all the titles, obligations, clothes, and faces we wear and bear.

And why is it there are so many broken people? So many of us walking around feeling something is missing? Because we fill our lives with the systems and rules and all the things. And we forget what happens off the game board. And we don't look inside and truly honor that being. And we miss out on the joy of connection with others in the process. We feel torn. All the time. Because life... with its systems and rules. But we are both physical beings AND spiritual ones. It is no wonder drug companies make billions off of medicating the misery that is created by living lives that are stifling to the spirits within us.

Maybe we'll get there. I'm not perfect either. I have an ego, just like anyone. I have earthly desires, just like anyone. I have needs for security, even more now that I have kids. I have goals that may be too lofty, but I keep thinking I'll hit the moon at least, even if I'm aiming for the distant stars. So despite my life out in the world of systems, there's also this me underneath. This private me. I need to water her, too. Listen to her, too. Breathe her in, too. I am trying hard to be open. To remember to swim in there. And I breathe SO much more easily when I do. To find a balance between Life and the Universe within. That is the goal. Everything. Even if only in my own private mind most of the time. But that mind is my own kingdom (or queendom). My garden. And we simply must dwell there sufficiently in order to be able to connect authentically with others. As a dear friend of mine in Baton Rouge told me after I'd stayed with her last weekend, "I love you seems too small." That kind of feeling is what happens when the spiritual us inside is seen for what it is and mingles with and truly sees someone else's. It is grace. It's a rare and delicate thing, but it's worth living for. Always.

That Perfect

Sunday, October 29, 2017

That Perfect Thriller

Saturday, October 21, 2017

That Perfect Silence

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

That Monday Birthday Revisited (to Make it More Perfect)

Thursday, October 5, 2017

That Perfect... I Don't Even Know... Rambling Something Important About Life (Wow This is Really Long)