The View and the Point of the View

For the past few days I have been able to work from the sunny porch of a friend's house. It is an idyllic, picture book setting. A comfortable sitting area, overlooking a calm lake, bordered by mature evergreens. To top it all, we have had the best Indiana summer weather - not too humid or hot, just warm enough to lull you and make you forget everything. Forget that there is a pandemic raging outside, and the world is more and more divided over issues that should make us come together as humans. All in all it has been an immensely peaceful few days where all my troubles seem far away, and I blame it all on the view.

Clearly our physical surroundings have a tremendous impact on our state of mind. In my case the peace outside has translated into peace inside. What's more, rather than distracting me, the view has energized me. Wouldn't it be lovely if this bit of heaven was available to all those whose brains are agitated, stressed or burdened in some way? Could we all benefit from the calming effect of nature?

This setting is not new to me- I have lived across the road from my friend for seven years now, and have been to her house countless times. But it's only now in these unusual times that I am truly seeing not just the view, but also the point of the view. So if you are fortunate enough to choose what you see everyday- choose wisely! It may just be the reason you stay sane through these strange times.

The View

My Own Me

Finding yourself is about the hardest task that there is. You would think it is easy given that you don't have to go searching for any answers or clues to what the truth might be. Whatever is needed in the quest is right there within you- all you have to do is look. But as thousands of years of human history have proven, the answer to the question "Who am I?", continues to elude most of us.

I can't speak for others - I am not that enlightened - but for me the hardest part of this search lies not in the finding, but in the accepting. When I look within myself I don't see a simple straight truth by which I can conveniently define myself. I see instead a jumble of emotions and characteristics. It is a complex landscape of pride sitting side by side with failure, hopes entangled with grief, aspirations going head to head with resignations. I am full of contradictions and there is no way to take all this complexity and cram it into a thirty second elevator pitch that would make any sense.

Unfortunately there is no room in the "real" world for my contradictions and ironies. I have to be either one or the other.  Every day I fill out forms that force me to choose what I am and by that same token what I am not. However, my  inner self defies this neat partitioning. When I gather the courage to accept my polarities and fallacies and stop trying to be a box to be checked off, maybe I will finally be my own me.

 

Reconnecting

There is nothing unknown about my surroundings or the people I am with. It is the same lake whose calm waters have held vigil in our neighborhood ever since it was first created. There is the ever familiar Indiana summer breeze, calm, yet capable of turning into a raging storm on a whim. The friendly birds busy heading home at the end of the day. And, the comforting company of friends who have now become the kind of precious family you will only know when you are an immigrant in a foreign land, desperate for a touch of home. But today it all seems tentative, more precious, almost delicate - like it can be taken away without a warning.

The isolation of the pandemic has inevitably stretched time out, making it go by slowly. So even though it has been just two months since we have met like this, it seems much longer. We have to break the ice of silence and make sure the same rules still apply. Is it okay to sit next to each other? Can we permit visitors to use the restrooms? Who can you hug?  We have been cut loose from the every day familiar things that anchor our lives-  doctor visits, office meetings, a trip to the post office, summer holidays on sandy beaches,  picking up the dry cleaning- and have been set afloat in this new normal where none of the old rules apply.

 So even as we sit and chat like in the old days, there is a pregnant question in the air- will this freedom last? Dare we plan for tomorrow? No one is quite sure what the answer is. All we know is that we have got today and we must make the most of it.

As we all say our goodbyes the hugs are a little longer, the planning somewhat hesitant, and the hope of meeting again a tad dim. I turn to look at the setting sun, drinking in the feast of colors reflecting on the lake's rippling waters. I want to take in as much of everything as I can, so if it is two more months before I see all this again, I will have the memory of this evening and of the long awaited reconnecting.

30 Years

And the memory still endures. It is thirty years today since I lost my favorite cousin to leukemia and yet the memory of that day is etched in my brain, blow by blow. From how it happened to when it happened, and what everyone did- nothing is lost.

Every year I think of it but have never sat down to write about it or express it anyway. Maybe this year it is more significant because I am now somehow closer to her having survived breast cancer myself. Maybe it has to do with numbers- like diligent kindergartners we divide our lives into counting by tens 10-20-30. Maybe it is nothing specific. Yet it was the first thing that came to my mind when I opened my eyes today.

The question is why does her memory endure? She has been gone far longer than she was a part of my life. Her passing had no real material impact on my life - I saw her maybe a couple of times a year and never spoke on the phone- you did not do things like that in the India of the 1980's. And so much of significance has happened in my life since- I am married, have moved across countries, am a mother, have a job, have nephews and nieces who I adore- so much that can fill the void - but yet her memory holds a sacred place of its own.

The answer can only be that unlike things, people are fundamentally unique, unlike the material  things that we collect, they can't be replaced by someone similar. One cousin cannot replace another. A happy memory with one individual cannot be replaced by a joyous moment with another.  As humans we have the capacity to give each person in our life a place that is just theirs.

Like anyone out there I have things in my life that I love- things that I will say I can't do without. Be it as large as a car or a small green spatula to scrape the bottom of my pans. But the "bond" is tied to a need. If something else fulfills that need, the thing will be replaced in my life. The  difference between people and things is their uniqueness, and as a result the one of a kind bond we form with them. So while we may count by tens in speaking of how long we have had our favorite things, the little green spatula that I use almost everyday will never be unique like the people who were there even if for a moment and left thirty years ago.

Moving Landscape

Outside my window it sits,

Not a word uttered and not step moved.

The hours and days pass by without a pause as it holds its place in the universe.

Yet every morn it tells a different tale.

Amazing me with its splendor.

The ever changing colors and shadows playing out a divine dance.

I stand now at my window gazing and smiling.

I take a deep breath and thank whoever created this moving landscape.

Voice

Call me naive but  I am only now beginning to realize that having a voice has long been the domain of the privileged and the powerful. They get heard so their desires and thoughts shape so much of the world around us. This means that the few decide for the many how life should be run. This is not just frustrating, but very dangerous.

I recently finished watching two series on Netflix- both about men who the filmmakers claim are wrongfully incarcerated and victims of the power play that plagues many of the rural counties in the US. In these kinds of rural settings the local law enforcement is the law. In the face of very little opposition, and aided by an imbalance of power, DAs and Sheriffs run operations like their own fiefdoms. Personal grudges turn ugly when a crime is used as an opportunity to settle a vendetta.

If these documentaries are to be believed, power is so concentrated in the hands of the few that an ordinary person with no means to competent legal counsel can get lost in a system that is eager to find someone to blame. Each criminal caught and put behind bars is a feather in their caps, so the police and the public prosecutors bend rules, flaunt basic rights, and jail people on the slimmest of evidence.

Of course it would be foolish to simply believe what the film makers portray- but the striking parallels in both cases can not be ignored. Both are set in rural Wisconsin, both involve suspects from low income backgrounds, and both cases have exculpatory evidence that is just simply ignored. These were men who lived on the fringes of society and hence were were easy to blame and paint as criminals. 

The documentaries span decades in the life of these criminals and the overpowering theme is how their constant and steady claim of innocence falls on deaf ears. Their voices go unheard while the system that has sentenced them fights back using all the power at its disposal.

I am neither very powerful nor very privileged, but I would like to believe that I do have access to some means to defend myself should I be wrongfully accused- hopefully if it comes to that I will have a voice that will be heard. But if not I can't imagine a worse state of existence.

Pride

There is nothing as joyful as the praise of your child. I do not experience it very often so I will take it when I get it 😊! It was with immense pride that my son  recently declared to a friend that his mom is an "amazing storyteller" and writes a blog. Granted that it was all in an attempt to impress the friend but nonetheless I was glad that he chose to highlight that characteristic of his otherwise ordinary mom.

It was also humbling moment. That moment reiterated for me what most of us know as parents but scarcely see it demonstrated so clearly- our kids observe EVERYTHING we do and learn from it every moment of every day. Which means we have an immense responsibility to be a worthy role model for them. Yes they will interpret what they see, color it with their own perceptions, but we give them the foundation on which they can build their version of the world.

What's more, they will likely learn from something you least expect just because the novelty of it struck a chord with them!  So if given the opportunity get creative in how you demonstrate values, life skills and other life lessons- run a marathon, bake cookies with friends, coach a school team, maybe even write a blog! It will be worth the pride in their ever watchful eyes.