Reflections on the Old Year
Uncategorized|The year closes down, a new year sputters to a start. The new engine of the century feels worn already. I’ve had a lot of difficult situations in my life this year, as many readers have, and it seems like the time to reflect on these difficulties comes fortuitously during this season of pause, between the old and new year, after the manic period before Christmas. Exhaustion sets in, and if we’re lucky we get some time to rest and reflect.
This was a year of difficult relationships in particular. Although very skilled now in working through troubles with people, there were a couple of situations where no resolution could be found because of silence from the other party–silence interrupted by blasts of blame–and then a return to silence. In one instance, I found myself being seen by members of my family of origin as someone who I was in the past. Although this someone that they thought they were speaking to no longer exists, she was still being taken to task for a past mistake. The really painful part for me was that I was not, and am not, seen for who I am now. To not be known or seen or heard has always been difficult for me. And my father’s line of the family has a particularly difficult time with reactivity and blame–something I’ve worked extremely hard on this past year in every relationship–it’s strong in our family brain structures. But, my family has been a bootcamp where I’ve gained the skills to meet new challenges and new difficult situations.
This is the gift of the new year, and the new day. We get to start over. The gift of my Buddhist practice is that it lets me renew myself and find absolution in the moment. I am no longer bound by past mistakes. I do not have to be who my family thinks I am. I am not required to respond to them from that place. And I can let them be who they are as well, and not react as if they are the person from the past.
Sure, I want to react. The shell of my past body wants to lash back, and point out in detailed description how absurd and stupid what they say is. I know just how to make a point by point case, justify my position, and then launch an incisive blow about what they’ve done that they would be unable to dispute. I know I can win an argument! I think about the long letters I found among my father’s things–disputes with neighbors, ex-wives and other family members, that he had actually saved! We are good at making points about how precisely in error the other guy is.
Increasingly over the past 5 years, because of my meditation practice and zen community, I’ve had more space around how I respond to people. I sputtered in the first years; tried to yank psychology skills out, and save myself that way. But zen practice really helped me learn the value of waiting, not responding right away if I’m angry, and, less fortunately, of blocking emails when I need to. When I am triggered, increasingly I can see the painful place the blamer is coming from–how they have to live with themselves everyday, and how terrible that must be. I feel more compassion for the one blaming, and for myself, as the target of blame. When I catch myself wanting to blame in defense of myself, I can have compassion for that too. And I ask myself more often, how can I help them? What can I do? What responsibility can I take around this? How can I meet them underneath the blame, in the place of their pain?
Most importantly, I’m learning how to value silence. Not the dysfunctional silence of withdrawal, but the rich and thoughtful silence of conscious retreat. When I know I’ve done my best to reach out and resolve a conflict, that my intention has not been to create harm, and when I’ve owned my responsibility or part in it, and the other party refuses to meet me in the same space of mutual reconciliation, then it is time to retreat. This is self-care. I do not have to look at disparaging emails, or listen to rumors or walk on the imaginary eggshells of perceived wrongs committed. I can wait in silence and give it space. They may respond, they may come forward, and they may not. Ever. The important thing is, I’ve found peace with myself around it.
So, this year, amidst the noise and calamity of what my life will entail, risks taken, new ventures pursued, I am hoping to cultivate this silence–to not speak with words that further separation and silencing, but to foster a silence that speaks what is real, from the heart, and that furthers a communal and healing dialogue.
