Respond Favorably

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

--Emily Dickinson

The question posed on the CNN website—Do you expect to have a better year in 2009 than you did in 2008? The results at the time I took the poll, answering yes—75% responded favorably. That’s about hope, plain and simple. The world wants to wear down our resilience, indeed our spirit—troubled relationships, financial woes, health challenges, discouraging news of one sort or another, discontented people. Although I’ve received no directive informing me that it’s my job to make things better for those walking closely with me on this journey, or for those who cross my radar—even if only for a while—I suffer from the crush of this presumed responsibility. In truth, we all share this responsibility, regardless of how poor our vision.

Too often I allow hope to be trumped by the choices of others. Scary, the thought of how random some of these choices must be. Although it’s not routine for me to express myself in this way, I’ve begun to think about the energy we carry around—saying the words as if practicing a foreign language—and I’ve begun reminding myself of the useless stuff I allow to gain a foothold in my head and gut. Expectation wears many faces, and it can so easily become a weapon we use on ourselves. A late bloomer here, I discovered the Buddhist term “monkey mind” only recently, but having made this discovery, how well it describes the restlessness, the anxiety, and the defeat I feel when I forfeit my rights to forces around me—human and otherwise. I know I’m in trouble when hope doesn’t welcome me as I open my eyes and stretch out my arms first thing in the morning. I know it when in the middle of the night I extend my arms toward the heavens, asking for help. And I pray for relief from the despair that would claim me were it not for hope.

I have an old habit of wanting to make things right for others. It’s neurosis, of course, and I guess it comes from wanting to be needed. Someone has suggested that I want to be liked by everyone. Wherever it comes from, I instinctively serve up onto my plate generous helpings of other people’s stuff. I want to fix things, and this often leaves me frustrated, disappointed, and robbed. So as I think about my vote for hope, which comes to me just as naturally as breathing, I also have to think about how I save myself from the poverty that comes with my very own dose of a make things better mentality, buying into the belief that my own needs aren’t worthy of being served, or that they aren’t as important as the needs of others. That I would make such an investment out of fear of not being liked or not pleasing others is a crime against myself, and it leads directly to angst and resentment. No amount of conversation about changing habits matters a tinker’s damn. Only commitment and tough choices count.

The prayer attributed to St. Francis—the 12th century Italian friar for whom the Franciscan Order is named—reminds us, it is in giving that we receive. We are well served to remember to save a little something for ourselves. And at the risk of appearing blatantly blatant, we are wise to figure out what we want, ask for it, and then say “thanks”. Maybe another human is the appropriate recipient of our request. Or, maybe we have to take it higher. Pick your own power—I know where I direct mine—and then, if we are somehow blessed to realize that the power we reach out to in the middle of the night has heard our request, I guess an even bigger “Thank You”. In TRAVELING MERCIES, wise and funny Anne Lamott names her best two prayers—“Help me, help me, help me; thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Although I gave up on New Year’s resolutions a long time ago, I’m thinking that 2009 is resolution worthy. I am remembering the sermon advice of my priest from 20 years ago as we prepared for our Lenten journey. Instead of giving up something for Lent—alcohol, chocolate, swearing—he suggested that we embrace something that would lead us to grow spiritually. I came on my own to this high desert plateau 18 months ago, and for a long time loneliness was my companion. Over time, I started doing the things that can lead to friendship, or at least, worthy acquaintances. While at times it seems that I am taking a couple of steps forward and maybe two and one-half back, I keep believing that I’m somehow getting somewhere. What I’m being reminded of, however, is that much of life is about riding the pendulum, which sometimes requires a death grip. A friend here, a few months younger than I—she says we were separated at birth—tells me that we must honor ourselves. Plenty of people with an Internet presence have described such honor. Faith practices make much of it. I’m trying to figure out what this really means for me. I know about wanting—things that sometimes turn out to be either not in the cards, not right for the time, or maybe not good for me, as I had hoped.

I don’t confuse honoring myself with selfishness. I understand that we are nurtured by selflessness and kindness. It feels good to take care of others. We grow by loving and being loved, and that includes loving myself, genuinely and actively. My fear—and it complicates breathing life into a 2009 resolution—is that I’ve taught myself to believe that it’s more important to deliver for others than to say, “hey, this is what I want…this is what I think I want…this is what I need.” Sometimes, the most I can muster is a notion of what I don’t want, and even then I’m just as likely to keep quiet, letting regret have its way with me—at least for a while. For someone who has journeyed a good part of his life thinking that he has to shoulder his own burdens, preferring to take on the weight of others, it’s hard to imagine what it feels like to truly honor myself. Yet, I remain hopeful.

Respond Favorably—Santa Fe, New Mexico (January 8, 2009)
R. Harold Hollis