To Thine Own Self Be Grumpy and Kind
I am early to Natalie Goldberg’s morning meditation at the Santa Fe International Literary Festival as I draft this post. Yay, me. Natalie was my first writing teacher; I took her early classes in her living room here in Santa Fe.
I was so tired, “exhausted” to use the word of the day, this morning and felt the pull to skip this. Getting Mama Sita (my dog) ready, driving 30 minutes to town, psyching up and so on, seemed too much. And yet, here I am. And now, I am glad. This seems to be something (but may just be a random artifact not a trend) I am facing in conjunction with age. At the same time, I am fortunate to read others who are older than me, who say, “Keep going! Do the hard stuff. Keep writing.” In the case of this weekend’s literary festival, this is how to age with vibrance. It is a form of sheer determination, which is a word I prefer over discipline, my old standard.Some of us are apparently natural-born disciplinarians, so it’s not really something to take credit for. This is one of the things I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older. We are more formed than we realize and changing is actually quite difficult. Which is not to say, give up hope but in fact to recognize: it’s hard. Get off your case. Perhaps coincidentally, I also cling to change, it’s been a constant in my life, always curious to try new things, think new thoughts, live in different places, change my workouts, change my diet, and of course, change my hair.
Being Oneself In Spite Of Self Help Books
There’s this irony about the many teachers telling us 10 ways to honor own experience, to be ourselves, and yet with each example offered, I can still question myself: should I be more like that? Like them? The challenge of knowing one’s Self and expressing it in the world is not so simple. We look to those who are brash, different, or shall I say Different, with a capital D, as role models and yet the overwhelming majority of humans long to fit in.They seat us in this conference, like most conferences, with the small-width chairs literally chained together. Hundreds of people appear to be okay with this as they pack themselves into the ballroom to hear the authors, shoulders inescapably touching, thighs occasionally grazing.I can NOT. So I find a seat on the edge, fully aware that people have to walk past me to enter the row, and then, I go one step further. I unhook my end chair and move it several inches further to the side, into the aisle. I insist on breathing room. I do not want to be touching the coat/germs/smell-covered body of another human. I don’t want to breathe their exhaled thoughts. The closer I must be to others, the more I resent them, without knowing a single thing about them other than they are pressing their presence into my so-called personal space.This is repeated in the long queues as we wait to enter the rooms. The overwhelming majority of ticket holders inch themselves closer and closer, as if that will get them into the room, past the bag checkers, any faster. It will not. But it is in the same category of human behavior that is responsible for deaths during stampedes. It’s hard for me to reconcile this subset of intelligentsia: The Readers who forked out hundred$ to attend a literary festival! I project: they should be more calm and composed, not act like like those soccer hooligans.It may sound like I am judging; that’s not my intention. I suppose the conference hosts love that most people are like this! It’s clearly a personal preference for the many. But not for me. This is one area where my confidence in who I am is at a 10. I cannot be any clearer. I don’t want to try to fit in this way. It’s me being grumpy without an ounce of guilt or meanness. I didn’t complain to my seat mates. I was friendly and kind as they walked past me.If we could accept our inner grumpiness, it would lift the discomfort and actually make an opening for a laugh or two. The featured photo on this piece shows the trucker who delivered a load of base coarse gravel to my driveway last week. My Grumpy was adorable, friendly, and competent! I didn’t get to ask him about the name of his business, but I thought, what a FUN way to be grumpy.Meanwhile, still in the line, an author came straight up to me, unmasked and inches from my face, saying “I just published my first book. Would you like my card?”“No thanks.” I said.It was all too much. The constant marketing, not unlike the kinds I myself used to recommend, I now reject. I felt bad afterward for my swift rejection of her offer. In theory, I want to support authors, knowing the accomplishment of publishing a book is a grand and worthy thing. I “Like” every post on Twitter when I see someone having “pub day.” But that is a safe distance, an act of support I can provide from the privacy of my own keyboard. I hope to send that author this message, now, through the ether:“Congratulations! I see your efforts and applaud them. In that moment, my cup was full. and I reacted defensively.”
Too Many Full Cups Can Lead to Grumpiness
Ha! This is one source of that saying, “Too much of a good thing.” As spirit beings having a human experience, we’ve chosen to leave the infinite universe of omniscience to play with limits and boundaries, space and time. We have choices to make as we can’t have it all. And really, we don’t want it all.We have so many full cups right now. The constant noise and admonitions and recommendations and ‘you shoulds’ coming at us. And I’m contributing to it. With this publication.I’m starting to unsubscribe from things; it’s become more than I can consume I don’t want to feel guilty for deleting before reading. I honestly don’t know if it’s “better” (however you measure that) to subscribe and mostly not read (as a measure of support for the writer) or to just not subscribe. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.Everything is measurable now so we are being more and more reduced to our metrics, which makes so much of our behavior performative. That calls forth my inner grumpy. I find it depressing, demoralizing, de-energizing, desensitizing, dehumanizing even. All things I want less of.But maybe you don’t. Maybe you love being deep into the mix, swamped with so much to consume. That is great for the authors! Please feel my gratitude. And thank you for reading my screed.Merriam-Webster: screed1a: a lengthy discourseb: an informal piece of writing (such as a personal letter)c: a ranting piece of writingMay you find yourself somewhere in these lines and take pride in your own experience. That’s really what interests me, regardless of the difficulty of the task. It’s a goofy way of allowing (not fighting) grumpiness so we can feel better together. In so doing, the universe finds its joy! In self-knowledge and self-acceptance, we distancers and shoulder-rubbers can share the deeper part of the human experience, sitting across the aisles from each other.
One last note: I listened to writer, Ed Yong, speak and be interviewed by science writer, Sandra Blakeslee. I loved this interview, as Ed is so engaging, intelligent, and KIND. Sandra, who writes for the NYTimes, asked the most writerly questions, helping us get inside Ed’s process in the writing of An Immense World. If you have any affinity for nature and the creatures in it, buy this book. It’s dense and intense, but the perfect book to read slowly, to pick up anytime you want an injection of “awe, wonder, comedy, and hijinks” as Ed mentioned. But especially, for the AWE. The research he has done and his ability to put us humans “in our place” with so much compassion and kindness continue to move and inspire me. It’s also a great book to read as a family — a few pages together at dinner once or twice a week and you can be entertaining and informed for a year at least! Ditto for a classroom.
Thank you for reading! I appreciate this intimate connection we have without being crammed into conference room seating. And I apologize for missing last week. It completely slipped by me, then, I decided to wait until a fresh new Monday to publish again.