“I'll take your part, when darkness comes…”
Bridge Over Troubled Water/Simon and Garfunkel
If the human experience is an ongoing attempt to find our way back home and the family is one’s personal stage for evolving all emotion and ego that stands in the way, at what point do we cross over and how do we do that exactly? Are we looking for a ladder to climb and rise above the waters of discontent? And are we rising above or merely escaping? What if there’s no bridge or solid ground when we get there?
I don’t have definitive answers to those questions, but I’m certain I was offered a glimpse or two during a recent production within my own family. I was handed a backstage pass and managed to keep my seat and exercise what I will refer to as compassionate observation. This was not deliberate. It simply happened.
The inspiration for this article is also simple…this has never happened to me. I found the road less traveled in my funny, sad, pathetic and beautiful life, and I took it.
On any given day, the family unit will perform multiple acts in a continuous play. The script will vary and the cast members will change, depending on whose ego shows up for rehearsal and the corresponding emotional issues that seek center stage. Which leads to a very important question: Who’s directing?
If I may boldly say so, I do have the definitive answer to that question. When you allow yourself to be drawn into a battle that does not belong to you, then you have automatically placed yourself in the director’s chair.
This director’s chair is easily granted to anyone who walks into an argument between two family members, sees yet another freshly-opened can of worms (same brand, same flavor) and blindly takes the mop. If you’re paying attention, you will recognize that the one handing you the mop is typically the one who opened the can of worms in the first place.
Long story short, someone spilled a can of worms this weekend - all over my nice, clean kitchen! - and expected me to clean it up. I was tempted for a moment, but decided my arms were tired. Instead, I took a nap.
Yep, the director took a narcoleptic plunge and the worms began to squirm. A few of them even turned on each other. One escaped and found a temporary director. But eventually, they grew weary and quiet. What was that all about? Left to their own devices, natural improvisational skills were awakened and they crossed over…without me.
My spiritual journey is still wearing diapers, but while I was napping I dreamt of the realization that maybe the best way to cross over is to become the bridge. I will lay me down. Indeed.
Very well put madame. I have had a lot of family drama as of late. Sometimes I remember to just let it play out and keep out of it. Once I just simply turned to a family member and said, "Today isn't all about you. Our father is sick. Let's focus on being here and raising his spirits."
ReplyDeleteI just like that I no longer raise my voice, lose my cool, or let them ruin my day. It's a pleasant place to be.