There Is Only the Map You Make

 

I'm back. I don't have any answers yet 😔, but I am finding that I require them less.  I remember Rilke said something about this and about trying to love the questions themselves.  I'm not at that stage yet.

While answers elude me and I grow ambivalent to their existence, I am finding some new sources of light I mentioned in an earlier post. 

Like most things in life, I do not always find new sources of light where I expect.  That's not to say that comforting or meaningful activities aren't as much so, just that I've been getting "more bang for my buck" so to speak, from activities I initially didn't want to do or had an otherwise appallingly low bar for.  Much of my personal and work life has been swallowed up by these types of "grin and bear it" activities this year.  These are activities that I had low to zero expectation for.  My only plan was to endure, survive, retreat. 

As it turns out, and to no one's surprise,  I was wrong. 

Sure, there were tense or tough times but someone in the group would rise to the occasion or the tide would inevitably turn, someone would crack a joke, or so on.  Unlikely friendships were forged that offered gifts that could not have been given any other way.  They just couldn't have.  I have wondered after each meeting, game, or group gathering, after each of these encounters, how every single one of them was exactly the way it had to be for the moment, gift, sentence, smile, etc. to hit just right. The "right person had to say it to that person at the right time" type of situation.  Little gifts.  We are giving them to each other all day and sometimes we don't even notice.  And I dreaded these things prior?  It seems funny now.  Unlikely spots and places, you just never know. 

I also have clarity within myself about certain matters.  Certain things are ringing differently with me now.

For instance, it's nearing the end of September and I don't know how many more Christmases I have with my parents.  Morbid? Maybe. But, it's real. And I feel like I no longer have time to dance around the details. This makes some people uncomfortable, like, well, my parents.  I am working to refine my presentation when I express this. The point for me is that this clarity of knowing there are a finite number of Christmases left is shocking but fortifying. It makes it very clear how my future Christmases will be spent. 

The point is, I'm facing these questions. Many don't. I don't fault them but I've lost too many people too suddenly to not be mindful of the time I have with those I still have. And further, having made this decision, and acting upon it, brings me peace.  I know I'm where I'm supposed to be. 

So yes, while there are no answers, I'm finding that the grief of so many "should have beens" is falling away and being replaced by treasures found in unlikely places and a fortified peace in seeing my priorities more clearly.  Which, isn't too bad I suppose. 

Seeking New Sources of Light

 It was some time in my early 20s when I sought advice from my Aunt Donna (also my Godmother), about a work situation that had me stumped. As a baby librarian, not yet aware of my actual vocational leaning yet, I had already sought out answers in books and in the sparse places online where one might find advice, already of a dubious nature (somethings are as they ever were), and turned up nothing. 

Next leg of research? People.  Easiest access?  Family.  Best ones?  The cool ones.  Coolest one? Aunt Donna 😉 So imagine my surprise when she responded, “Jennie [note: this spelling reserved for family/Dena only, but I doubt Dena will use it because she respects me too much], it feels like the older I get, the less I know.”

This was not the answer I wanted. Aunt Donna was worldly and accomplished in her career and pastimes.  How could that be?  She, who knows…not know? 

I accepted that maybe she was having an off season or was into some philosophy with paradoxical leanings.

As it turned out, the work situation was not something I could have changed or altered. No one could have given me that answer.  Well, maybe, my ex-boss’ dealer could have.  But c’est la vie.

So here I am—square in my mid-forties and I’m definitely feeling Aunt Donna’s statement. This has been a season of upheaval and turmoil for myself, as well as many of my friends and family. I’ve seen beautiful things that have made me catch my breath and I’ve tried to savor them during sorrow that threatened to swallow me whole.   

I don’t know. I don’t know how, or why, or when.  I can't explain why. And it’s a bit disconcerting because I have built a very strong muscle out of knowing or at least, finding out. 

No longer a baby librarian but an adult one, my very mission is to help people find what they need with no judgment.  Here’s the example I use: Say you need a resource.  Any resource.  Maybe it’s a number to a food bank or access to a computer to find a job. Maybe it’s a book, fiction or nonfiction, that helps lift you from depression, if only for a minute, minute to minute.  But you can’t find this needed resource or don’t know about it? It might as well not exist.  Playing this out further, into the digital divide and access to health information online, which many underserved disadvantaged communities lack, people who could have timely solutions to preventative home health care suffer needlessly not knowing solutions that could have helped them. This bothers me immensely-The not knowing of life saving things that renders the resource or knowledge basically nonexistent.

Soooo imagine not knowing something.  Truthfully, not being able to figure out anything is really hard for me to cope with.  It doesn't matter if it's a work office dynamic issue or an academic issue for one of my kids when they were younger. And it always matters more when it deals with matters of the heart--physically or spiritually. 

There are seasons of turmoil and uncertainty and I think if we’re honest with ourselves life is 100% uncertain every second.  After a season of this, it can leave you rudderless. Not able to rectify with why or how things happened, but starting to not need to anymore, I find myself venturing out more and trying more.  Granted, I do hate 50% of what I try.  But the other 50% is pretty damn good.

What else are we to do but re-build ourselves as much as possible and shelter others along the way?

My Baptism Day, 12/18/1977 - (Aunt Donna holding me with 

not a single question in my little head)

P.S. It is late, this is a blog, if there are typos, I apologize.