I was searching to see if Anne had her own blog this morning and found her again on Salon.com. My goodness. This made me cry and it's not even noon.
(I was looking for beautiful images of holiday lights, etc. and this is the first one that I found - I'm pretty sure it's Lago d'Orta, Italy, where I've been. Wow.)
Right before Christmas, as I was trying to create one Hallmark/Walton's moment after another for myself and the children and Dad, (and anyone else who might have wandered in from the edges of my life during the holidays, she says breathlessly, fearfully and at the same time hopefully), I found myself with the prospect of a lonely evening ahead on one of the Eve's eves (which I love, love). I was peering a little bit into a dark well, and thought about going home to eat all the Christmas cookies, or clean out everything I own, do more laundry, or watch another holiday chick flick, when I had a flicker of sanity that none of those options might be a good idea. So, I decided to take myself out on a date. This was a big shift -- one of those change directions moments that sounds tiny but it wasn't. Let's do something holiday-ish, I said, so Me and Myself started out walking around some shops in the new glitzy Friendly Shopping Center (a place I swore I'd never patronize after they tore down the Burlington Industries building and used up all the grass...which was AFTER they built the Burlington building on the beautiful little piece of farmland-in-the-city back when I was a kid - but I'm not bitter). As I remembered my vow about not going to those dumb stores, I hightailed Me and Myself over to the old Friendly Shopping Center (not sure why that's any better), specifically to Barnes and Noble (which is right on the place where Scott Seed Store and the Winn-Dixie used to be - I should boycott that too I guess). Anyway, I was getting happier the minute as I walked into all the hustle and bustle because not only was I going on a date with Myself, but I had decided to buy Myself a present! I had decided to buy Anne Lamott's new book Help Thanks Wow. I have loved Anne Lamott since I read Operating Instructions when I was pregnant with Julia, which I'm pretty sure gave me the courage to be a mother (along with my friend Elaine) (if you haven't read it - it is amazing). Anne's writing makes me feel as if we are having a conversation. I also tend to try to mimic that style, especially after I've been reading her, which I bet is officially annoying as hell to anyone who is reading this.
Anyway, I got one of the last 3 copies in the store and had a nice little chat with the lady at the help desk about it, and Anne. We bonded over Anne's irreverent spirituality. Then, I made my way to the Starbucks area, and decided to really go all out and be flashy with my bad self and get a salted caramel hot chocolate. Unbelievably Christmas-y. Myself was happy and was liking this date, even though still fighting the "I'm alone thing." I found a good seat, and commenced sipping and reading my new book.
The real feeling better started happening almost immediately after beginning this book. The first section is "Help" where Anne talks a lot about letting go. I realized that I was in the actual process of letting go right then and there. I started breathing differently; I started to relax. I thought about how much it helped to "be" where I was and stop struggling with my concocted version of how now ought to look or what the future holds, or how I wish I could change the past and other people. (From Anne: "A sober friend from Texas once said that the three things I can't change are the past, the truth, and you. I hate this insight so much.")
Lamott talks about her "God box" in this book. It is a place she physically puts notes with the name of a person or situation with which she is "crazily, toxic-ally obsessed." She "gives it to God" and then agrees to keep her "sticky mitts" off of it until she hears back. From Anne: "We learn through pain that some of the things we thought were castles turn out to be prisons, and we desperately want out, but even though we built them, we can't find the door. Yet maybe if you ask God for help in knowing which direction to face you'll have a moment of intuition. Maybe you'll see at least one next right step you can take."
"When we think we can do it all ourselves - fix, buy, or date a nice solution - it's hopeless...We're going to get our tentacles wrapped around things and squirt our squiddy ink all over, so there is even less visibility, and then we're going to squeeze the very life out of everything...Or, we can summon a child's faith and put a note with a few words into a small box in the hope that we can get our sucking squid tentacles off things...You can go from monkey island, with endless chatter, umbrage, and poop throwing, to what is happening right in front of me...God, what a concept..we can release ourselves from the absolute craziness of trying to be our own - or other's - higher powers...we can be freed from a damaging insistence on forward thrust...we stop the toxic peering and instead turn our eyes to something else: to our feet on the sidewalk, to the middle distance, to the hills whence our help comes - someplace else, anything else. Maybe this is a shift of only eight degrees, but it can be a miracle...It may be one of those miracles where your heart sinks because you think it means you have lost. But in surrender you have won." Eight degrees of shift, turns out, can be a big deal-like taking yourself on a date. I have a lot of squiddy, jet black ink. It's all over when the monkey chatter and poop throwin' starts.
Another funny thing happened on my date. I have this whacky way of saddling up to people who seem to need a receptive, encompassing listener. I didn't think about it too much, but I chose my seat at the Starbucks area near two older men. They looked cozy in their easy chairs (which I wanted but made do with a table). I was really delving into Anne's book and that hot chocolate, when one of the gentlemen lowered his paper and asked "what are you reading?" Sigh. I'm nice you see, some even say sweet, which makes me furious. And my dear Aunt Mabel belief is always in here thinking everyone is WONDERFUL AND PRECIOUS. So, of course, I started describing the book and Anne. Forty-five minutes later, and after realizing that this stranger and I used to live a few neighborhoods apart in PA, I knew that I wasn't going to read anymore Anne in the bookstore that evening - that moment had passed. But it made me laugh a little to "watch" this interaction which is so typical, and to try to make sense of what it means about me and my intention and belief system. It also made me grateful I suppose. Although slightly annoying in the know-it-all way, he was kind of interesting. And talking to a stranger like that made me remember how much I crave community and the familiarity of small townishness (the kind that Garrison Keillor brings each week). I figured out more. Sometimes in my feebleness I get the slightest insight that it is a really gigantic thing to realize that everyday, and maybe even every moment, is "the perfect teacher" (to quote Pema Chodren). Each day actually comes with it's own syllabus, readings, lecturers and experiential learning opportunities. I like this. A lot. I wish I'd sign up for it more often.
So, today I'm thinking about a few things. How to simultaneously let go and be prepared in my life. Part of this break for me has been bringing all kinds of things out into the light of day, and getting prepared for the things that always happen like taxes, and check ups, and vet visits, and holidays. I looked back over the year's calendar to see what the patterns are starting to look like. I kept a good calendar this year - writing down little things about what was happening each day and month. I got this from my Dad who can tell me what happened on any date from years past, because he writes it all down. It gives good perspective. I'm just deciding to emulate this at age 53. I am a late bloomer. Maybe if I do this even a little, I can sign up for each day in a really awake and open way. Help.
I'm going to be thinking a lot about what to put in the God box. I tend to get very philosophical about these things, but I'm going to make it as simple as I can. I am going to consider what I'm gripping and clenching and holding on to. I'm also going to consider my intentions. I am going to consider what I want. I am going to send myself little reminders on my Google calendar. I wish I could schedule emails to myself over the year. (I bet someone knows how to do that.)
I am not my, nor anyone else's, higher power it turns out. I am going to try to remember that. I am going to ask for "HELP." I'm AMAZINGLY getting to start the year off with 3 really strong women friends on New Year's Eve. They are brilliant and hilarious and humble and strong. To that I can say with Anne..."THANKS. WOW."
