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In the event of explosive decompression…

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So, as it happens, I was having a discussion with a friend… Ok, the discussion was an overestimation of the amount of contact I get to have socially. It was email. I admit it freely, but there was back and forth and all of that… and what was I saying? Oh, yes… so, I was having interactive commentary electronically with my friend about self-care. Hmmmm… well, now, that is just a little sad. So much of my interactive contact lately appears to be via technology… <sigh> It is better than nothing at all, I suppose. I think that somehow we have become incredibly polarized in our modern western society about what constitutes appropriate levels of caring for oneself vs. levels of that self-care becoming selfishness and self-centered disregard for others. The problem seems to be that we have become as hyperbolic in this continuum as we have in opinions and the expression thereof. Happy balance seems to be something that people struggle with universally.

I’ve touched on some of the issues previously (See previous post on Living Life Without Giving a F@$%), and a friend of mine has often talked about the art of being considerate and having some manners… or the sad fact that consideration and manners seem to be remarkably absent from too many of our daily interactions. There are so many ways we’ve lost the art of just interacting with the other humans and individuals that share space with us in a non-damaging way. The excuse I hear too often is that we live in a fast-paced world where antiquated social conformities have no place… or “they were rude to me first”… or “I don’t know them and probably won’t ever see them again.” These are horrible excuses. Who cares if it is a perfect stranger? Does that give anyone the right to be a complete jerk? I don’t think so, but I digress. I think I’ve also touched on the paying it forward philosophy at some point as well. You may never really know how your effort to be polite, kind, or just smile at a stranger might actually impact them in a way like the “trickle-down” effect made multiple individuals have a better day than the one that started for them. It could happen. And… not really where I was going when I started this… so…

I guess what prompted all of the musings and ponderings and interacting via email was that somehow for a good many people in my social and professional sphere, the pendulum has swung very far the other direction. For a good many people I know, the prospect of doing even the smallest thing for their own pleasure is riddled with guilt. They have fallen into an abyss of abnegation where they are unable to perceive their own martyrdom. Yep, that’s what I said… martyrdom.

Honestly, it isn’t that martyrs in history were so very bad. Hell, many of them were granted sainthood… until they were decannonized or whatever it is they do to remove them from our calendars. Great sacrifices in the cause of their faith, the well-being of others, or various acts of rectitude earned them the honor… usually posthumously, which seems a bit of a shame to me. Seriously, if these folks are such pillars to be idealized to advocate for the rest of us poor sinners… wouldn’t it have been nice to have their example around for a bit longer? Just a thought… Anyhow, I didn’t mean to take this into an ecclesiastical place that will likely get me in trouble with the various organized religions of the planet. That wasn’t really my intent. I guess what I am saying is that saints and martyrs for the most part are rare. It’s true. I suspect that there are a good many aspects of those lives may not have borne well under the scrutiny of modern media or social media where privacy is non-existent… BUT those lives were exceptional, which is all to the good. It doesn’t mean that all of us should live those same austere lives of sacrifice. In some ways, it is not only unhealthy… it’s pretentious.

We are all human… well, I’m making an assumption, y’all feel free to examine that point for yourselves, but I strongly suspect that if you are reading this… you are human. Most human beings are not actually set up for sainthood. Not saying that it couldn’t happen given the right circumstances, but we are programmed for survival and to that end, we are programmed with needs and wants and all that jazz.

I’m going to let you in on a secret… There is absolutely nothing wrong with that… provided of course that it doesn’t actually harm or interfere with someone else’s needs, wants, and all that jazz. The whole idea of self-sacrifice to the detriment of one’s own well-being ultimately results in one outcome: YOU WON’T BE THERE TO HELP THE NEXT TIME.

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Yep. That is what I said. I’ll let you in on another secret: There are a lot of other people, employers, and entities in the world that are perfectly willing to let you sacrifice everything. To put no finer point upon it, they will use you up and find another one just like you. It sounds harsh when I put it that way, and I by no means am trying to say charity is wrong or a waste. I’m just saying that giving and caring starts at home… frequently with oneself. There are those in the world who adhere to this particular maxim a bit too stringently. Those people are the ones who are living their lives without giving… well, you know. However, it isn’t so much that they live their lives without inhibitions due to external judgment, but some of them live their lives without consideration for others or the feelings/rights/expectations/etc. thereof. They do what they want, when they want, say what they want, and they don’t care who it impacts, hurts, or even destroys so long as they receive what they wanted. That is the far end of that spectrum opposite the saintly souls who never pay attention to their own wants or needs and frequently sacrifice either or both to accommodate those of others.

NEITHER OF THESE EXTREMES IS HEALTHY OR SOMETHING TO WHICH WE SHOULD ASPIRE. There. I said it. It took me over 1000 words, but the idea is a balance. That happy medium thing I typed earlier. People need to think about and have some consideration for the other humans around them, but that includes themselves. Everyone should engage in regular self-care. This goes beyond the general eating, drinking, breathing, and sleeping. It also means that there should be opportunity to engage in enjoyment. Aside from nourishing the body, each individual should also nourish the soul… or psyche if you prefer. That means that there should be activities in life that enrich and… just make you feel good (obviously respecting the same rights of others and the various laws of the land… the fact that I have to put that in there is annoying but some people would take it too far). It also means that when a person takes the time to engage in those activities, there should not be the overwhelming guilt of “Oh no, I shouldn’t be [laughing, reading, coloring…insert other life affirming and enjoyable activities] because… reasons.”  The reasons are immaterial. Everyone needs to have some pleasure in their lives. Our brains and bodies need the chemicals that are produced when we experience pleasurable sensations. When we deprive ourselves of that chronically, it can be as detrimental as depriving the body of nutrients or sleep. We function better as human beings when we feed our bodies and our psyches with the things that enrich us.

There are a lot of people in the world that are totally out of practice with this concept. They have been put in positions where self-sacrifice has become the norm. Self-sacrifice occasionally is not an unhealthy concept. In fact, when we love others, we frequently put their needs above our own. However, when it becomes an all-the-time situation, it is no longer healthy. It can even become detrimental to the care of those individuals we love. Occasionally it is not even in their best interests due to fostering dependency or setting them up for false senses of entitlement. Sometimes the idea of setting boundaries and engaging in the occasional self-indulgence is so foreign that when it happens, the guilt become unbearable. If this is the case for you, dear reader, it’s possible that you have lost the ability to have fun and enjoy your @#$%. I prescribe a consistent program of regular fun and daily self-care until it becomes less foreign. Doctor’s orders. If you are struggling for ideas, reach out to a friend… I’m betting they have some ideas or at the very least can brainstorm over chocolate ice cream (or chardonnay or… you get the idea). You have the absolute right to be the star of your own show and have some fun without the guilt leeches trying to suck all life from your soul.

Remember what the safety lecture says at the start of every flight on an airplane, in the event of cabin depressurization, breathing masks will fall from the ceiling. They always, ALWAYS, remind you to position your own mask before helping anyone else. That is to make sure that you don’t pass out or expire before you can actually assist the others. You can’t help someone else if you are incapacitated due to your altruism. So, charity and kindness and the care of others are entirely admirable, but remember to start with yourself. If you don’t take care to stay healthy and strong (physically or emotionally), you won’t be at your best for anyone else either. So, remember to affix your own mask over your nose and mouth first… and breathe normally.

Memories

Finding Spring

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Spring is here

Spring is here

Time for joy

Time for cheer

Little children love to sing

The happy song of spring

For most, there is something inspiring and rejuvenating about spring. The temperatures increase and the light lingers. Yes, some will be complaining about the heat before too many weeks have past, but for that brief glorious time, Mother Nature seems to give us a tiny glimpse of hope that at the end of every difficult time, there can be a reward.

My mother always had a saying about this time of year. She would always say, “Spring is just around the corner!” It was her little way of greeting the new season with a childlike aspiration of starting fresh. In my own childhood, she attempted to instill the same wonder and joy of nature in my heart and mind. To that end, we had our own special ritual. Each year, she would drag me out to go look for spring. It wasn’t nearly as much of a chore or punishment as I made that sound, but as the years passed, it became more difficult to pretend the same innocent wonder that she was able to incite when I was 3 or 4 years old.

Magic often loses its power to awe when you see behind the curtain of how the trick works. As a child I was so excited to find the joy of those signs that spring had made an arrival and summer was on the way. My mother always miraculously knew just were to find it… Yes, I figured out that she had planted the crocus bulbs in that particular corner where they would “wake up” first. However, it never failed to impress me that we had managed to sneak up on the Printemps and catch her just waking from her long winter’s sleep.

Now, passing through some remarkably dreary winter times of my own this year, I wish that I could recapture that sense of discovery and glee at something so simple as a planted perennial. Perhaps it is also that I find myself approaching my own autumn that my mind turns so frequently to my younger days, or perhaps it is that the darkness of my own responsibilities has pushed me to flee to the time when I had none and could truly enjoy the world around me. Whatever the reason, I started noticing some of the little gifts of nature that signal renewal.

Living in the south has its benefits and its challenges, but there is nothing that quite compares to springtime in the south. The glory of redbuds with their almost lavender pink blossoms that coat the branches in beautiful pastel foam; the dogwood in white or pink that line subdivisions and the edge of wooded groves; the glorious riot of tulips and crocus in beds everywhere, and the fields of daffodils that line even interstates. It is as if the whole landscape is putting on taffeta and crepe accented by the faintest green that is only seen in spring. Lastly, the carpet of white and purple violets that most consider weeds reminds me of running and laughing in the days when I did such foolish things as running and laughing…

When did it become foolish? When did I lose the time and joy of just being and noticing?

So, today… I went looking for spring around the corner, and I thought I would share it with you…

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Hello Boy, Why Are You Crying?

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“All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, ‘Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!’ This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.”  ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Everyone has heard of “Peter Pan Syndrome”. It is generally used in a derogatory way to describe a man (or woman) that is stuck in a perpetual state of adolescence or childhood, neglecting responsibilities and focused only on having a good time. We’ve all seen it. There is always the friend or associate from our earlier years who continue to party like they are still in high school or college, trying to recapture their glory days. They call, text, instant message to say they are going to the club, the bar, the party and may or may not ask you to come along. They seem genuinely baffled when you decline citing work, family, lack of funds, or just plain fatigue. They feel betrayed by your failure to hold onto the pleasures and good times of childhood. They go through their years planning spring break getaways and purchase games and toys, though the prices have increased with their chronological years in a way their maturity just did not. They seem to genuinely be able to shake off or ignore the cares and worries that plague the rest of the world. Fear for the future appears to be an alien concept, and instead, these blithe souls shift through their time on the planet expecting that all things will work out just fine, bills will miraculously get paid regardless, and relationships will work themselves out… or not, and it matters little as long as a good time is had by all (or at least them).

This is the alleged profile of the perpetual child who never grew up. I always wonder whether I am jealous of these perennial children with their life given solely to the pursuits of pleasure and play; or am I genuinely sorry for them as they distance themselves from their associates of childhood, their contemporaries, and potential colleagues, while continually seeking the companionship of strangers as their play groups grow in maturity yet they remain stuck in their eternal childhood with lack of understanding or desire for the adult world of distress and eustress?

That being said, I do not believe that everyone out there is susceptible to the Peter Pan Syndrome. In fact, there are some people that appear to be “born old men/women”. These are the people that always seemed to be thinking ahead, even as actual children. No risks taken in the passion of youth, because it just wouldn’t be prudent or contribute to the solid plan for their responsible life and future; always avoiding the idea of a good time if it might be unplanned and go against the blueprint of stability. However, for the rest of us, there is another category. I’ll call us Wendy, because Wendy grew up. It isn’t an actual desire for maturity or a regret that it happens. It just happens. At some point, like Wendy, we leave Neverland and stay in the real world to go on with our lives. We cannot go back, because when you live and grow up in the real world, you lose the innocence and lack of fear and worry that allows you to experience great adventures.

The truth is, being a grown up isn’t all bad. There are a good many physical and emotional experiences that just cannot be appreciated to the same degree as a child. Certain aspects of life and accomplishment seem to mean more as we have a greater understanding and closer communion with the eventuality that greets us all in the end. Additionally, the experience of parenting with the joys and not so joyful experiences are not something that the child should be required to experience (though some have, I know). It is still possible to have fun as an adult. It doesn’t have to be all work and no play, as evidenced by the number of people who manage to hold down careers, family interaction, and have a decent time in their recreational pursuits. Not to sound like the cliché, but with power of choice and responsibility for the choices made comes some not small satisfaction and joy when those choices result in success and happiness. There is still some envy towards those who have that childlike faith that all things will be just fine, even if the reins are dropped for a while just to enjoy the wild ride; and there is also some resentment that the Wendys of the world must carry the responsibility for all the Peter Pans who can’t be bothered to worry about the future.

Sadly, I think that somehow Peter has gotten a bad rap over the years. Everyone gets stuck on the whole perpetual childhood thing as a lack of maturity and responsibility, but they forget the more important part of what Barrie wrote into Peter Pan: The simplicity and innocence that allows the child enjoyment and play but that eludes adults and is lost with increasing years to never be captured again. Yet Peter needed Wendy to be the “mother” for all the lost boys. Without Wendy to tuck them in and sing the songs of comfort, perhaps even the perpetual childhood of Neverland might have been too harrowing an adventure to be truly enjoyed, and without Peter, Wendy would never have learned to fly.

Hello boy, my name is Wendy. No need to cry. I’ll sew your shadow back for you, and you can fly away to have many grand adventures.