I just got bored with all her nagging and complaints. Her job was too hard, her children were screwing up, she was underpaid (oh yeah, 70k…that’s a lotta tofu), and blah, blah, blah. Whatever.
She didn’t know from struggle.
The word is weighted with political histories tied to tyranny, genocide, refugee camps, and life-exhausting battles. The word also brings back memories of my mother’s childhood home and of her growing up with her parents in the backwoods of South Carolina with no running water and no indoor toilet. The electricity on the small farm was their nod to 20th century comfort.
I remember watching one of the first “reality” shows several years ago. You may remember some of them. They would take a family and place them in a reconstructed historic situation such as pioneer living on a midwestern prairie. Far away from their modern-day conveniences, they would have to align themselves physically, emotionally, and mentally with tasks like drawing water from a well, using an outhouse, or brushing their teeth with baking soda. I remember that in one of these segments, a teenage girl complained about the taste of baking soda and how she missed her toothpaste. She didn’t know from struggle.
It’s not that I lack compassion for the difficulty of daily living, but it’s been hard for me (even as I look for work) to equate the daily grind with real down and dirty struggle.
I have tried many times to replace the word “struggle” as it relates to day-to-day experiences: family relationships, friendships, soul-killing jobs, or high gasoline prices. I like terms like “overcoming obstacles,” or “eliminating barriers.” These words blunt the prickly sword of “struggle.” But like the tale of Sisyphus rolling that dang boulder up the hill only to have the thing roll down again, Struggle will not be redefined. Here She comes at you with the addictions, national political battles, and teenage killings. And it’s all a part of the day-to-day.
My father used to tell me over and over again, “Don’t judge another until you’ve walked in his shoes.” Yes.
If we breathe, struggle is required. Without struggle, we cannot grow. Struggle adds value to life. And while I am truly, truly loathe to admit it, every obstacle is a struggle for someone—even if it’s only about the taste of baking soda.
The folks in other parts of the world who struggle with violent oppression or have lived in refugee camps for a quarter of a century are indeed struggling, some with little hope for change. The rest of us are struggling with our “stuff,” the things that threaten to suffocate that authentic “voice” within us, the intuition that guides us to a high-quality life for ourselves and all those around us.
All struggles, in the heart, are equal. I guess, I began this post too harshly. I suppose–in the heart–recovering from addiction is as much a part of the tightrope as being in a job that one hates. The difference, however, is that, unlike folks in a refugee camp, most of us can see a way to the other side. We roll the boulder to the top and watch it roll down the other side of the hill. Every challenge brings us closer to being the person we know we can be.
Sala
wordshavecolor.com 
On Experience
Experience: fosters wisdom and paves the path to self-awareness.
There. I said it, and that is probably why I am so committed to learning from my experiences, not from other people’s theories. It doesn’t necessarily make for an easy way, but it makes for an interesting life. And if I’ve learned anything about writing my experiences, it’s that no one can change what I know to be true of-about-for me. A few have tried. Save the planet, I say. Stop wasting oxygen. My experiences keep me grounded in my truth. My experiences are the petri dish where I test out life’s theories. And until tested, theories are all that exist.
Oh Lordy, what started this rant?
Well. A few weeks ago, a friend and I were having dinner and talking about life. You know. Life. I shared how many years ago I was up to my eyeballs in credit card debt. Another friend at the time, who was a financial counselor, put me in touch with a debt consolidation agency that helped me pay off the debt in five years. No small feat and a lot of beans and rice I can tell you.
Soooo…my friend and I were talking, and I said, “I don’t know how I racked up so much debt. I didn’t have a lot of fancy clothes or new furniture or a fancy car or any of that stuff.”
She listened to what I said for a while and got quiet. Then she asked what I used the card for. I told her: college tuition, books, travel, music.
Quietly, she said, “You have experiences. They’re so much more valuable than stuff.”
I thought for a moment. “You’re right,” I said. “I would not trade a one of my experiences for all the stuff in the world.”
Everything in these pages comes from one place: My own experience. I do not talk about what I do not know about. I use my own stories to reflect on my life and the choices I’ve made. I gather what pearls of wisdom I can from my own mistakes and successes. And by my own standards, based on my own experience, I have more successes than failures.
Life is so full of riches, and experiences teach me what it means to continually go for authenticity. The more I stay in and with my own experience, the more authentic, the richer I become.
If I don’t know about it, I don’t talk about it. For me, experience trumps theory every time. If I have a political view, it’s based on experience. Religious attitudes? Experience. Economics, relationships, or people? You got it; experience. I’m not saying that I don’t study. I do. Then I weigh what I’ve read-heard against what is real—for me.
Experience keeps me from taking someone else’s opinion of another person as my own.
Experience keeps me out of the cesspool of preachy, proselytizing fear mongering. Because everyone’s experience is different—just look at how my siblings and I remember a single moment differently—owning my experience allows me to practice being non-judgmental.
I trust my experience much more than I trust another’s “ideas” about how the world operates. And based on my experience, I try to remember:
Most people want to do the right thing. More people are committed to protecting the planet than harming it. Youth is a state of mind and heart. Physical beauty manifests first in the spirit.
It is my experience that a sense of generosity, compassion, open-mindedness, and faith must come from one or both parents.
It is my experience that a mean young person without significant life experiences will become a mean and wisdom-less old person (hapless and hopeless at best).
It is my experience that mean, wisdom-less old people are not happy.
It is my experience, and my belief, that deep down, the heart, by nature, is forgiving.
It is my experience that knowing one’s own personal values is more important than anything else on the planet. And that’s the work.
(Okay, and a bit preachy…)
Experience this beautiful day, wherever you are.
1 Comment
Posted in Writing from the heart
Tagged Commentary, creative nonfiction, Life Stories, Reflections, values and spirituality, world view