Living Paradox

Living Paradox

“The great paradox of life is that those who lose their lives will gain them. If we cling to our friends, we may lose them, but when we are non-possessive in our relationships, we will make many friends. When fame is what we seek and desire, it often vanishes as soon as we acquire it.” —Henri Nouwen, “April 30” in Bread for the Journey (HarperOne, 1997).

Nouwen again opens us up to a very real truth: that we live and work with paradox, holding tensions. One of the best books I read during my work as a physician was John R. O’Neil’s The Paradox of Success: When Winning at Work Means Losing at Life. It is subtitled: A Book of Renewal for Leaders. O’Neil starts out telling us about how our excessive pride as leaders, when combined with the seductive perks of power, can become addictive. At some point, the wielding of power itself becomes even more important than its goal.

Power and need to control our own fate can take over, and sometimes become the end rather than the means. The paradox of success is the promise of renewal as we can stand back, especially in a retreat, and see where we have gotten into trouble. There are obstacles to stepping back, such as our drive for perfection, as our path becomes a prison. Often we let our clocks tell us what we should be doing—especially as we drive toward the dead end of a substantial paycheck.

O’Neil believes that any amount of time spent away from our usual productive round of activities is renewing, as long as it is time spent in pursuit of some deep learning. For me it entails walking, being or sitting in nature, music, quiet, writing, talking and connecting with friends, visiting the sick, and some form of daily retreat, which usually involves writing. He encourages us to become healed by pursuing a different situation in which we do not run the show; as well as concentrating on relationships rather than goals or end results. Our difficulties stem from the very traits that make us winners. We will find gold in dark places.

The book includes a graph about success. We work hard to reach the top as we master our profession. We only stay there at the top briefly, since there is always someone else or many who will soon surpass us. O’Neil suggests that we stop to observe our situation as we approach the peak of a pursuit, and consider starting all over again in a new career. That can serve to keep us humble, as we are back again on a learning curve where we are not the ones with all the answers. As we get close to the top of that career or undertaking, he suggests we observe and again consider starting all over again. As Benedictines might put it, “Always we begin again.”

My summer reading this year includes David Brooks’ The Second Mountain. I think Brooks is discovering some of these same principles about life. More will be revealed.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com

Earth Day and Our Town

Earth Day

“For in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible.” —Colossians 1:16a.

The verse from Colossians is an ancient Christian hymn describing who Christ is. I also see it as a reminder of looking for the Christ in ourselves and others moment by moment. I know how difficult this is. Sometimes the Christ is so visible—and sometimes invisible.

I think of Emily in the Thornton Wilder play, Our Town, who is allowed to return to earth for one day to Grover’s Corners after her young, untimely death at age twenty-six. She chooses her twelfth birthday, and soon returns to her grave—when she can no longer bear watching as the people she loves barely interact with each other. They seem unable to appreciate the joy and wonder of each new day together, and fail to see the Christ in each other.

I am thinking about a past Earth Day when I listened to music about the earth, such as Beethoven’s Sixth Pastoral Symphony, as we traveled from a reunion in Virginia to the Gulf Coast. This symphony always reminds me of the four years we lived in Iowa City. The music was the background for a visual production of the Iowa outdoors called Iowa, A Place to Grow, which always reminded us to bloom where we were planted, and to appreciate the beauty of the earth and the people of that state.

I remember the first Earth Day in 1970. It was the day my husband of six months left for Vietnam for a year. I was pregnant with our first child and feeling very sorry for myself. I spent the day watching the Earth Day celebration on our small black and white television and stripping the wax off the floor of our kitchen. I knew I had to transform the energy generated by Robert’s leaving into something useful. I wish I could write here that I went out and planted trees; but alas, my kitchen floor was as far as I got.

I also remember that during our Earth Day trip we were driving through a gentle rain and the car radio was playing American composer Alan Hovhaness’ tribute to a beloved tree on his uncle’s farm that was struck by lightning, “Under the Ancient Maple Tree.” I wish I could say I participated in some marvelous events to care for and thank our earth, and especially its trees, on the other forty-nine Earth Days since that first one; but I honestly cannot remember another Earth Day. That day the best I could do was to enjoy the ride, give thanks for the rain, and be grateful for the bountiful green trees keeping us alive along Interstate 85.

I think of my father, a forester, who led many hundreds of expeditions to plant pine seedlings. I remember on trips how he often would point out the tall grown trees that he had planted. Now, many years later, I thank him for his plantings.

I have learned along the way that our environment, the outdoors, and especially trees keep us grounded to the present moment. It is just such a present moment that I think Emily in Our Town is talking about; one in which we learn to appreciate each precious gift of time, especially time with those we love. My experience is that I live most consciously in the present moment when I am outdoors and see the trees and plants, and realize that there is something greater going on than the past and the future with which I am so preoccupied.

C. S. Lewis and so many others, and now Emily, all remind us that the present moment—not the past or the future—is where we meet and recognize God in ourselves, in each other, and in nature. This is one of the best ways of knowing the Creator, the God of Love.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com

The Plural I

The Plural I

“If I respect the plurality in myself, and no longer see my jealous self as the whole, and greed and sloth is an opportunity to lift out of the waters of unconsciousness a tiny piece of submerged land of me, then I have gained the distance I need to observe it, listen to it, and let it acquaint me with a piece of my own lost history.”

–—Elizabeth O’Connor in Our Many Selves: A Handbook for Self-Discovery (Harper & Row, 1971).

O’Connor’s book was one of the first I read as I was seeking to understand why I do the things I do—trying to find out what was underneath the surface or behind the mask I was wearing. Her classic writing gives us tools for becoming the person God created us to be. She teaches us about the many parts of ourselves and how God uses every part of us to connect to God.

Those parts of ourselves that block us from the Spirit can also be pathways back to an even richer relationship to the God or Spirit within us. Christians would tell us that the life of Mary Magdalene is our scriptural example. Whatever her seven demons were, they led her to Christ and a new relationship with God and a new life. The recovery community would say that the recovering alcoholic or addict is led back to the God of his understanding in his journey to recovery. The Jungians would tell us that a recognition of the shadow or unloved or unaccepted part of us can become our hidden treasure or gold.

O’Connor presents a series of practical exercises she developed from years of group work at The Church of The Saviour in Washington, D. C. They are designed to help us locate these many parts of ourselves, leading us to the God within and enabling us to reach out to the God in others.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com