August 4, 2004

• Unsought Treasures

  It happens to me all the time:  I’ll be looking for something
  specific and along the way I find something entirely different and
  totally delightful.  I was googling for references to go with a
  blog about the Oerthan Poisoners’ Guild (or did they call themselves
  “Assassins”?  That may have been the tag.), and I allowed myself
  to be led astray.  I will get back to the series of crimes against
  redheads at another time, but first I want to share my serendipitous
  find.

  The way I got to this was roundabout, and I’m grateful that I let
  myself be distracted from my original quest.  I had been looking
  for Timothy Leary’s “Two Commandments of the Molecular Age,” to be sure
  I had the wording correct and to learn, if I could, in which work of
  his they appeared so I could cite it.  Apparently it was in The Politics of Ecstasy. 
  But while I was looking for that, one of the search results that came
  up had the title line:  “bozos on the bus.”   That line
  from Firesign Theater, “We’re all bozos on this bus,” much used by Wavy
  Gravy, is a favorite of Greyfox’s and mine.  I think it sometimes
  goes over the heads of younger people, and I’ve even seen some offended
  expressions when one or the other of us has said it at twelve-step
  meetings.  Too bad, we’re bozos and those of us who admit it have
  the advantage, I think.

  Anyhow, the page that result took me to was Enlightenment Library and from there I went to an excerpt from Broken Open
  by Elizabeth Lesser.  At the end of that excerpt was a link to
  another excerpt.   This one is right in line with what I’ve
  been doing, benefiting from doing, and advocating.  The last time
  I was in town, as we were going through the checkout line, the clerk
  asked how we were.  We had just been venting to each other about
  our various pains and dysfunctions, and Greyfox had said how glad he
  would be to get home and sit down.  So, I said to the checker,
  “We’re ready to go home and sit down.”  She smiled and said that
  she felt the same way.  Greyfox expressed surprise that I had
  actually answered the pro forma question truthfully, and a friendly conversation ensued, lasting until we walked away from her checkstand.

  Sometimes I just say, “Okay,” and let it go at that.  I hardly
  ever use the word, “fine,” in response to queries about my
  condition.  I’m just not that hypocritical.  And sometimes
  there seems no point in belaboring some poor schmuck with my troubles
  just because he’s been trained that it’s polite to ask.  This time
  the question seemed sincere, so I gave it the answer it deserved and we
  all gained thereby.  I’m also unusually frank in my blogs, in case
  you hadn’t noticed, and I frequently receive comments expressing
  gratitude and appreciation.  That’s what I think this book excerpt
  is about:

  Why wave the dirty laundry about, when all she asked was, “How are you?”

  Rumi says that when we hide the secret underbelly from each other, then
  both people go away wondering, “How come she has it all together? How
  come her marriage/job/town/family works so well? What’s wrong with me?”
  We feel vaguely diminished from this ordinary interaction, and from
  hundreds of similar interactions we have from month to month and year
  to year. When we don’t share the secret ache in our hearts-the normal
  bewilderment of being human-it turns into something else. Our pain, and
  fear, and longing, in the absence of company, become alienation, and
  envy, and competition.

  The irony of hiding the dark side of our humanness is that our secret
  is not really a secret at all. How can it be when we’re all
  safeguarding the very same story? That’s why Rumi calls it an Open
  Secret. It’s almost a joke-a laughable admission that each one of us
  has a shadow self-a bumbling, bad-tempered twin. Big surprise! Just
  like you, I can be a jerk sometimes. I do unkind, cowardly things,
  harbor unmerciful thoughts, and mope around when I should be doing
  something constructive. Just like you, I wonder if life has meaning; I
  worry and fret over things I can’t control; and I often feel overcome
  with a longing for something that I cannot even name. For all of my
  strengths and gifts, I am also a vulnerable and insecure person, in
  need of connection and reassurance. This is the secret I try to keep
  from you, and you from me, and in doing so, we do each other a grave
  disservice.

  Rumi tells us that moment we accept what troubles we’ve been given, the
  door will open. Sounds easy, sounds attractive, but it is difficult,
  and most of us pound on the door to freedom and happiness with every
  manipulative ploy save the one that actually works. If you’re
  interested in the door to the heavens opening, start with the door to
  your own secret self. See what happens when you offer to another a
  glimpse of who you really are. Start slowly. Without getting dramatic,
  share the simple dignity of yourself in each moment-your triumphs and
  your failures, your satisfaction and your sorrow. Face your
  embarrassment at being human, and you’ll uncover a deep well of passion
  and compassion. It’s a great power, your Open Secret. When your heart
  is undefended you make it safe for whomever you meet to put down his
  burden of hiding, and then you both can walk through the open door.

  OPEN SECRET

  

  • 12:53 am
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