WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?
Please join me tonight as we get in touch with our inner Travis Bickles.
What do you see when you look in the mirror of your mind's eye?
How old are you? What expression do you have? How do you picture the real you? How does that picture inform your actions; how do your actions mirror your idea of yourself?
For example: I know a phenomenal woman, just into her seventies, a high school dropout with two doctorate holding professional women for younger sisters, who - without reservation - would refer to her as "the smart one".
Now, if you asked her to picture herself, she would no doubt see.... a woman forever in her early twenties, forever waiting by the window for her love to come up the walk. With a little/big boy tugging at her skirt, a little boy in her arms, and one on the way. Forever "Kid", in a blue air force uniform shirt three sizes too big.
She is very comfortable in her skin. She has known war and poverty and loss and joy and love and acheivement, and she is sure in her choices and content in her life, and as constant, caring, curious and open in her 70's as she was in her 20's.
And me - what's my f*ing problem? I've been looking at my f*ing problem.
Lets start near the beginning. There was a very short time, in my early adolesence (an adolesence that lasted far too long, btw), when I noticed that I bore a slight resemblance to Dustin Hoffmann. This did not turn out well.
Unfortunately for me, and more unfortunately for a poor girl named Elaine, I saw the film The Graduate at about this time. (Once again - I'm really sorry Elaine!)
Suffice it to say, that the personal qualities of being impressionable, self-concious and obsessive compulsive, are not a strong starting point for constructing a solid and workable self image or set of rules to live by.
I mean, sure, it was great to pose in existential angst and wait around for my folks to buy a swimming pool so I could float away, but after the last scene of the movie there was no real guidance - after the bus ride - what?
Maybe I should have just gone into plastics.
In my young adulthood I continued to take my poses and props from pop culture - but I was always somehow delayed and I'd find myself jumping in behind the crest of the wave. I was into poetry and philosophy, just as Hippy culture was giving way to New Wave and Punk. I got into left wing activism just as all the splinter Trot parties were folding their tents and stalking away under the clouds of Thatcher/Reaganism.
Too much of this was pose; too much of the pose left unexamined.
My last misguided self reflection was to think that I could somehow find a happy life in a monastery. Posing.
Thank God for spiritual directors. The man told me to go and teach and see the world. He told me that life was not only made of choices, but of the follow through, not just what we'd like to be seen doing, but what we did. Reflection and action must come from within - not from without.
I folded my hand in Montreal and set out to teach in a place far away. A path less traveled has made all the difference.
Because of that one decision, I have lead myself into a life that fits my self image and a comfort in my self that is reflected in my life choices and my role. I have finally found what I do best and who I am at my best. When I saw my advisor a few years ago he told me that he knew it would turn out this way.
Who am I? Why, I'm a good teacher and a better friend and a pretty good student. I'm Melissa's husband and Hanna and Leah's dad. Pleased to meet you!
And so what's my real f*cking problem? (You knew I would get to it - didn't ya?)
They are in Korea. They've been there for a month or so, and I am a miserable failure as a single guy. The laundry has piled up, cat hair is everywhere, the bankbook looks like a Steven King novel, and I had my first real cooked meal in a week or so yesterday. I have had to salvage reflexes and coping strategies that I have not had to use in more than a decade. Habits are damn hard creatures to herd... One thing I do know is that I was wrong when I thought I helped out enough at home. That's going to change.
The only way that I'm getting through this is the sure knowledge that I will be joining them soon. As the day of departure draws nearer I get a bit more capable.
I fly out this week, we'll all spend about a month together showing the kids where mom and dad got acquainted and all those gooshy things that pre-teen girls find fascinating. We all will be returning by the end of July.
See you then...
...and what's your f*cking problem? Do you too sometimes suffer from a disconnect between who you think you are, and the life that you truly belong in? Do you feel powerless and trapped by assumptions and decisions and the way you see yourself and the way others see you? Are you comfortable in your own skin?
And on that note - rest peacefully Michael. Maybe now you truly know who you are....