SERENITY

I made a decision this week.  It has been a tough month and a half in all aspects of my life.  When I was reflecting upon it earlier with a close friend, it dawned on me that it has been one continual lesson of learning how to let go.  To let go of loved ones, to let go of the perfection I expect of myself, to let go of my expectations of others... in a way to let go of this iron grasp I have on my destiny.  It reminds of the Serenity Prayer:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and the wisdom to know the difference. 

It seems so simple. But for some reason, wisdom seems so hard to come by.

I failed the first two exams of the semester.  Yes, I did (I have the F's to prove it).  Two different classes, one last week and one this.  It has been hard, juggling all that is going on in my life and struggling to find some sort of balance without letting any of the pins fall (not that I could ever REALLY juggle - I always left that to my more-than-capable friend Jason).  Before this semester, a B was the lowest grade I had ever received (on any assignment/exam... heaven forbid an overall course grade).  I was devastated the first time I made one.  

Life has taken me to my knees in a way I've never known.  Once before I was taken down, when my mother was diagnosed and my best friend moved halfway around the world (quite literally).  It is so easy to evaluate in hindsight; to see with complete clarity what you were blinded to in the moment.  But I realize that the last time, I was on my knees for far too long.  It was simply easier to be there than to figure out how to accept these changes and accommodate them in my life somehow.  So much easier to hide and simply let life roll by.  It hurt so much less in my pajamas with a glass of wine.

I admit, this all came at a bad time.  That I had one week to try to get my head into a semester full of upper level science and math courses in a schedule that suddenly left me no time without children to study, after saying goodbye to mom for the last time in this life, it certainly was not a situation conducive to success.  Not to mention the loss, temporary or permanent only God knows, of my heart's closest friend.  Not to mention the child jumping out of the car.  

But when I walked out of that first calc exam, knowing that I had blown it when it was material that I know cold, I realized that I had to be ok with that.  I have to be able to accept imperfection in myself, as hard as it is for me to do.  Funny how I can be so forgiving and encouraging of others who are hard on themselves but it is so difficult for me to swallow the same medicine.  But you know what?  I actually came to peace with it.  

This weekend I realized that instead of grieving and moving forward, I have been stuck in neutral, refusing to let go of the things I need to for fear that they will be gone forever if I do, but I will be stuck forever in this pain if I don't.  And with that realization I got down on my knees, one more time, and I let go.  And I stood up.

Today, when I walked out of an exam that I could have aced if I had simply had time to study, it was with resolve, sheer stubborn determination, and more than a little anger.  I believe my exact words to a friend in a text were "Fuck this shit. I'm tired of the whiny excuses. It makes me feel pathetic. I'm doing A's the rest of the semester in all of my classes if it kills me."   (Forgive the language, but I did put it in quotes.  I read somewhere that foul language was acceptable in quotes.  Or maybe I just made that up because those of you who know me know that my writing is sanitized beyond belief.  I can rival any sailor, any day, in the language department.)  I only wish that I had stood up maybe just a few days earlier - then I could have perhaps redeemed myself in time, because when I have resolve, I don't think even the devil himself could stop me. 

So tonight, I pulled my favorite word salve off the shelf and came across this poem. And it just fit, in so many ways, for so many people I know right now, myself included.  Sometimes, I actually DO take my own medicine, dear friends.  Love to my family and friends - I couldn't have stood so quickly without each and every one of you.  

I'm back on a forward trajectory - just make sure to drag me back up when I trip.

THE REED FLUTE'S SONG

Listen to the story told by the reed,
of being separated.

“Since I was cut from the reedbed,
I have made this crying sound.

Anyone apart from someone he loves
understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from a source
longs to go back.

At any gathering I am there,
mingling in the laughing and grieving,

a friend to each, but few
will hear the secrets hidden

within the notes. No ears for that.
Body flowing out of spirit,

spirit up from body: no concealing
that mixing. But it's not given us

to see the soul. The reed flute
is fire, not wind. Be that empty.”

Hear the love fire tangled
in the reed notes, as bewilderment

melts into wine. The reed is a friend
to all who want the fabric torn

and drawn away. The reed is hurt
and salve combining. Intimacy

and longing for intimacy, one
song. A disastrous surrender

and a fine love, together. The one
who secretly hears this is senseless.

A tongue has one customer, the ear.
A sugarcane flute has such effect

because it was able to make sugar
in the reedbed. The sound it makes

is for everyone. Days full of wanting,
let them go by without worrying

that they do. Stay where you are
inside sure a pure, hollow note.

Every thirst gets satisfied except
that of these fish, the mystics,

who swim a vast ocean of grace
still somehow longing for it!

No one lives in that without
being nourished every day.

But if someone doesn't want to hear
the song of the reed flute,

it's best to cut conversation
short, say good-bye, and leave.

                  - Rumi (as translated by Coleman Barks)