Eric went into the hospital this past week, and as of this writing is still there. He has some pretty big challenges ahead of him, physically speaking.
This has been a time for me to practice being steady. A time for me to know and feel my true north. A time for me to be still inside despite reasons to be otherwise.
It has been clear to me for many years that how I feel is important, and that how I feel is up to me. This is not so difficult in areas of my life that are fairly easy going. Day to day activities, for instance, or conversations with others.
The idea of being in charge of how I feel is more challenging regarding Eric and his future.
I think it would be wonderful to never be in fear about anything, ever – to know that everything is what it is, and there’s no need to fret about anything for any reason. That every life, every event, every moment is unfolding as it should. It would be wonderful to know, regarding Eric and his health situation, that everything is truly OK. It’s his life and he knows what he’s doing. All there is to do is honor who he is and his choices.
Sometimes I’m there and I know this in my bones, sometimes I’m not. I like when I am there.
I notice I believe death is OK if the person has lived a good, long life, but something’s wrong with dying “too soon.” I’ve had some practice around the subject lately, when my youngest brother died a few years ago at age 50 and this past summer, my older brother died at age 65. Most of me, frankly, still says, “What’s up with that? Why did you leave so soon?”
It’s OK with me that my father died. He lived a good, long life. And it’s joyous to me that my 90-year-old mother is alive and well. I think it’s outstanding that she gardens and takes daily walks. She welcomes each new grandchild with a quilt hand made by her. She travels easily, loves people and has a whole lot of fun.
But alas, I seem to have rules about death.
Regarding my dear Eric, while I understand that life is eternal, I’m so fond of the flesh and bones version of him.
Apparently, “what’s up with that” is that I’ve come a long way, baby, and still I have miles to go. Much to learn. Much to understand.
Today, I’m sharing a story about how I accidentally accomplished something on my bucket list. I ran through an exit gate while looking the other way. The hood of my car is scratched up, and one windshield wiper is a mess, but let’s have a good laugh about how we never expect what “getting what we want” includes!
It seems to be a growing fad these days to call someone a narcissist, or declare they are toxic.
Political name-calling is similar—we assign politicians and voters to categories, and brush them off as if they are unintelligent, inferior, or even worthless.
By labeling others, we miss their humanity. We gloss over their struggle, their best effort at dealing with life. We dismiss them.
We do to them what we believe they are doing to others.
Look past a label, and in the soft light of day, there stands a person like you or like me, coping as best they can. At the end of the day, no friend, parent, or lover making conscious choices intends to be mean, or to ignore, or to embellish. There is always more to the story.
If we label others, then for sure we label ourselves. We trap ourselves into believing we are less than. Or not enough. Or we don’t give ourselves the time and forgiveness to work through our “stuff.” Maybe, if we stopped accusing others of narcissism, we could forgive ourselves for those moments when we were narrow-minded, inconsiderate, or afraid.
When it comes to labels, nobody wins.
So, my dear people, I suggest we peer a little deeper into ourselves to investigate a need to separate ourselves from others by tacking them with a label filled with disdain or scorn.
It is my wish that you view this video and take it to heart.