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Somewhere along the way we started collecting “friends” like we collect material possessions. Even that person who would publicly thumb his/her nose at the mere suggestion of this, secretly covets the increasing blue number, and makes it a point to check a “friend’s” count almost immediately upon making a connection. By now, you have no doubt noticed the quotations I’ve placed around “friends” twice – well, three times. Now granted, the definition of “friend” (ha, ha, there I go again) is different to everyone, but let me remind you that Facebook is NOT called Friendbook. That’s because, in reality, it’s just a collection of faces, most of them blurs on the wall, with only vague memories attached. When this becomes painfully apparent is, not surprisingly, during personal crisis. All of sudden the number of posts on your wall go way down, but the posts on other “friends’” (snicker) walls in regards to you, go way up. First there are the overly concerned posts. “Is he OK? Has she gone crazy? Is he a danger to herself or to others? Oh, it’s so sad about her.” Then, there are the obviously in bad taste posts. “Well, it was just a matter of time. He deserved better. She deserved better. I always knew he’d break down.” I can almost recite the exact list of people who are calling me cynical right now, and I can safely say that these people are NOT my friends – and I’m perfectly ok with that.
So, why my sudden change of heart? Was I not an avid Facebook user up until about a week ago? Am I bitter? Maybe a little. But, it’s my own fault because I knew what I was getting into from the beginning. In fact, I stuck to my plan to NOT accept every friend request, especially for those people I had no memory of what-so-ever, and I was perfectly fine demoting people to acquaintances, instead of friends, if only in my own mind. So, I felt I had an understanding of sorts in this process of selling my soul to the devil. But, truth be told, I got lost in the myth of it all – the promise of a big family of like-minded individuals, with common interests and a goal to achieve common good. I mean, after all, Facebook does have its Cause pages that help spread the word about fundraisers and the like. And, in all reality, I got lost in the purely voyeuristic, shallow explorations, that define Facebook. It was fun to have an audience for witty banter, and to connect with people over day to day trivial things. It took me out of the everyday stresses of real life, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But, it’s just not for me anymore, because I see how at the 11th hour, I don’t want to live my life on a stage where the crowd is just a see of empty faces. I want real friends, who provide real support…and I have that in spades, beyond the pages of Fakebook. Pardon me, I mean Facebook.
Will I ever return to Facebook? The hypocrite in me thinks, probably, when my life is something I’m again proud to share with others, or when my emotional sensibilities are no longer compromised. The realist in me, however, would prefer to leave it behind for good and salvage what extra time I have in a day for spending with close friends (those who won’t write me off after this post), and working directly on the philanthropic causes that are so close to my heart. In the end, we’ll see who wins out – the hypocrite or the realist. But for now, I plan on going about my life as I did before there was Facebook, and a “friend” was simply a friend.
I worship my dog. She brings me squeaky toys and unconditional love, and understands me at an almost profound level. What more could a person ask for?
Is it really possible to change facets of your personality and behavior with a specific outcome in mind? I’ve always believed in my heart of hearts that it is, and I know that I’ve grown and changed immensely over the years – but, was my growth intentional or merely incidental? I decided to do some research on the topic to see what I could dig up. What I found were many fascinating quotations that all seemed to come about as a response to my question of change.
“To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.” [Henri Bergson, French philosopher, 1859 - 1941]
“The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.” [Charles DuBois, American chemist, 1912 - 1971]
“There’s only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that’s your own self.” [Aldous Huxley, English writer, 1894 - 1963]
“People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously. This is how character is built.” [Eleanor Roosevelt, First Lady, 1884 - 1962]
All of these quotes suggest taking control over one’s change, as opposed to it coming about by mere accident. That can be seen in the action words “creating,” “sacrificing,” and “improving.” It follows then, that many respected persons throughout history have strongly believed that purposeful, intentional change in a human is not only possible, but quite desirable and necessary for living a meaningful existence.
But how does this desire to change come about? Are most people so in tune to themselves that they know how to make important changes just in time for them to be valuable? Or do they discover the need to change as a result of life experiences? The answers lie again in the words of others.
“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.” [M. Scott Peck, psychiatrist and best-selling author]
“Most people can look back over the years and identify a time and place at which their lives changed significantly. Whether by accident or design, these are the moments when, because of a readiness within us and a collaboration with events occurring around us, we are forced to seriously reappraise ourselves and the conditions under which we live and to make certain choices that will affect the rest of our lives.” [Frederick F. Flack]
This notion of “reappraising” oneself is a perfect way to explain the kind of change I’m talking about. It’s the kind of change that results from knowing that you’ve failed, or reached a road block, and wanting to make a significant difference in the way you handle yourself and certain situations in the future. It’s kind of like a dandelion pushing through the earth and on its way having to weave through concrete and brick, but in the course purposely changing its growth pattern to come out of the dark and into the light. Like the dandelion (and many individuals throughout history), I too am battling obstacles in order to make some changes for a brighter future. And, let me tell you – it’s nice to know I’m in such good company.
I’ve spent the last year of my life trying to make someone else happy, and in the process made us both miserable. Enough is enough. I’m taking back control and empowering myself to be who I’ve always been (but forgot for a while); admiring myself for the challenges that have made me who I am today (instead of chastising myself); loving myself for the things I do give to others (instead of punishing myself for not living up to their expectations); and forgiving myself for doing all the above entirely wrong for the past year. Of course, this is all well and good, but at the end of the day words are just words. That’s why I’ve made a “Plan for Taking Back Control” and am sticking to it.
For starters, I’m returning to writing at least every other night. And, and in order to do so, I’m leaving Facebook behind for the near future. I’m also taking charge over my physical well-being. I plan on shaking to the ground this lead suit of chronic pain by slowly strengthening myself with private pilates lessons. I may not ever rid myself of this pain disorder (brought on after a nasty fall), but I can sure reap the benefits of trying. I am very excited about my first upcoming pilates session. In addition, I will continue the work I’ve been doing in counseling to help me push past my fears and shortcomings. Honestly, I wouldn’t bother, if not for having an incredible counselor, because many of these so-called “licensed” therapists are total quacks. And, at the suggestion of a friend, I’m planning on attending a three-day intensive workshop known as the The Landmark Forum (www.landmarkeducation.com). Now, normally, I’m not a big fan of this kind of organized, feel-good fest, but this one really seems different. In the syllabus I see lots of things that appeal to me including the segment “How Identities Get Constructed” which I think can be helpful in rebuilding family relationships, and many other offerings including “The Pervasiveness of the Past,” “The Vicious Circle,” and “Freedom from Anxiety.” So, The Landmark Forum is where I’ll be the last weekend in February.
And that’s my Plan for Taking Back Control. As for why I recently went astray, I’ll never understand, but emotions (especially powerful ones like love) can shake us to the very core – sometimes bringing out the ugly, along with the beautiful, no matter how hard we resist. Love can unearth things that lie dormant in our souls like weaknesses, past hurts, and fears, but it can also resurrect in our hearts compassion, tenderness, and the ability to share. For most, it takes work to balance out the two, and that’s where I’m still growing. Just because I’m not there yet, doesn’t make me a bad person, or a failure, it just means that I’ve got lessons ahead – that I’m still alive and living. If I’ve missed out on opportunities, there will be other ones; if I’ve hurt anyone, it was done unintentionally; and if I’ve owned my part in it and am committed to improving, things will only be better next time.
We each only have one life to live, and we can make all the excuses in the world not to evolve, but the pathway of happiness demands a deeper understanding and commitment to ourselves. As for me, I refuse to waste another minute. I am now, once again, holding securely onto the reins of my life and I plan on making it a wonderful ride.
My garden has always been a place of rest, recovery, and salvation for me, but it plays an even greater role for the many creatures that fly, crawl, or scurry about within its boundaries. One of the major draws is the Celtic birdbath that provides a daily offering of fresh water for drinking and bathing. It is this birdbath – overgrown with algae and leaning so far to right after years of water has intruded its foundation – that lies at the heart of this story of serendipity. It is this birdbath that beckoned me into the yard on this breezy and overcast day for its regular filling. Even though I had many tasks that needed to be completed and errands to be run, and there was still a small amount of usable water in the structure, I couldn’t stop my brain from cycling round and round over this birdbath. “Weird,” I thought,” but no big deal…I’ll just fill it!” So out I went into the backyard, with four-footed canine friend in tow, and immediately spotted a tiny bird rustling in the tall grass just a few paces off the doorway.
For some reason, I just knew this bird was downed, even before I saw her try to fly. So I approached at a normal pace, just to see her reaction…and, not surprisingly, she flapped her wings frantically but failed to journey further than a couple inches off the ground. My heart beat with anticipation realizing that my wannabe bird dog, was going to chomp down on this tiny winged morsel at the first opportunity. I had only one chance to make the play and beat Dublin the Dog to the finish line, but could I do it? As weeds, wind, and fur rushed by I threw my cupped hands to the ground in wild desperation and then froze…peering out from between my joined hands was the tiny bird, safe and sound inside my finger hut. I carefully scooped her up as Dublin the Dog looked on in lust and fascination at the juicy treat just inches away in the palms of my hands.
Upon taking the delicate creature behind closed doors, away from the drooling hunter, I was able to examine her in close detail. She had not a nick or scratch on her, but a very unusual tangling had occurred between her tail feathers and her left leg and wing. Somehow, the downy threadlike feathers of her tail had completely encircled her leg and bottom part of her wing, creating a strong knot that entrapped the left side of her body. Fortunately, she did not mind being handled, as I delicately snipped the looped threads, to free her leg and wing. In fact, she almost seemed to enjoy the process, and when it was over perched on my finger like a queen on a throne. I pet her gently on the head, waiting patiently for her to launch, and finally she did….landing up high on the shower curtain rod. That flight alone was enough proof that I could set her free amongst her feathered friends in the garden.
I carried her outside, half delighted, but half terrified for what she would face in the wild. She paused for a second in my palm, looked up at me, and flew gracefully up to a tree branch. I wished her luck and turned back to the house, trying to remember what had brought me out to the yard in the first place. “Oh yeah, the birdbath,” I thought, and smiled to myself at the “happy accident” that had just taken place.
Say What You Will