A Crock Pot Life

Filed Under friends, from the heart, inspiration, life changes, quotes, spiritual practice

Last week I met Kendall, a UU whose blog I’ve been reading for a year or more. Kendall moved to Portland several months ago, and it was such a privilege to speak with her in person. That she took time out of her life to have tea with me is a little mind-boggling. In a nutshell, she is as interesting and sincere as her blog posts would suggest, and I hope we see more of each other over the coming years.

In one of her most recent posts, The Life Not Taken, she writes about a visit to Ashland, Oregon (home of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival), and the life she could have led:

Wild as my fantasies have been, rich though my imagination is, I’d have never cooked up the extremely unlikely and utterly eccentric life I have had–and am still having–if I’d been running it.

Kendall is not exaggerating - the book she’s writing based on her life’s experiences won’t be boring. A year or two ago I think I’d have thought of this and felt regret about my life - why wasn’t I more exciting? Why hadn’t I taken more chances? Could I ever be a “great” person if nothing tragic, traumatic, or soul-searing has happened to me? I would have felt panic about the whole thing. I would have felt less valuable than people with more interesting lives.

If I were to paint a picture of my life right now, it would be of a pot left to simmer on the stovetop for days in an empty house. That’s how my life feels most of the time, and I’ve accepted it. I don’t see it as deficient. We are all capable of different things. I’m learning more about my limitations, and as I stop berating myself for not being other than my own nature, I loosen up. In response to Kendall’s blog, I commented, in part:

Me and my pathetic (if that can be meant non-negatively) little life. I’ve never been one to take chances …. And I’m afraid to fail. So things haven’t been exciting or very tumultuous for me. Unless something traumatic happens, or I decide for some inexplicable reason to throw everything away and overhaul my personality, I don’t see that changing. So I’m trying to settle into myself and break things down into many, tiny, wonderful parts. Because that’s all I seem to be able to process anyway. I can’t cope with too much.

I’ve had to accept a lot of things that I’d earmarked as “bad.” Messiness. Moodiness. Shyness. Low energy. Depression. Short attention span. Physical ailments. Large teeth. A big booty. The list could go on …. Not too long ago I was reading a book about writing, written by a woman who had been diagnosed with something like Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Initially, she tried to persist in her busy life, and “beat” her CFS. She tried to cure herself so that she could keep on doing what she’d always done. Eventually, she realized that she needed to accept her changed capacity for work and travel. She began to shape her life activities around who she was, instead of distressing herself by trying to be someone who could live the life she’d fashioned for herself when her health was different.

What an A-ha! moment for me, so bent on self improvement, and so sad about my chronic status as underachiever. Of course, I have to admit that I’m still learning the lesson every day.

Comments

4 Responses to “A Crock Pot Life”

Kendall on April 9th, 2008 6:49 pm

The honor is mine. I find you radiant, bursting with life (in more than one way), and occupied, just as I am, with the earnest and often amusing lessons we Holy Fools learn, whether we will or no. Life may yet gift you with unexpected “tragic, traumatic, and soul-searing” moments. If you find yourself simmering in an empty house, do rest in the energy of that simmering and nourishing time, because this too will change. That’s the one thing I’m absolutely sure about. And when it changes, you will meet those changes with love and courage, because that’s just the kind of gal you are. I hope we have many more times of ruminating together.
hafidha sofia on April 9th, 2008 8:36 pm

Kendall - it is true; things change. I used to worry a lot that maybe I’d had it too good for so long, and one day God would notice me and absently think, “How did that one avoid trouble for so long,” and just drop everything on me at once. But now I don’t think the universe works that way at all. Much of the ease I’ve experienced is simply due to a good draw at the ovarian lottery.

A few years ago, I wrote a post about my “luckiness” in life being amortized vs. “lump sum.” Today I’m not sure I believe in luck, either. Chance, yes, but not so much luck.
will shetterly on April 9th, 2008 9:23 pm

There’s a Stan Rogers song that I love which addresses this: it’s about a ship’s captain and a lock keeper, talking while the ship is at the lock. It was produced after Roger’s death, and the producer’s version is bit overdone, but the lyrics are still great, and so is Roger’s voice. You can hear it here.
Bob Currier on April 16th, 2008 11:07 pm

When you described your life as

“a pot left to simmer on the stovetop for days in an empty house”

I found myself thinking not–how pitiful–but rather–how hospitable. In my imagination, this is a home where leftovers are made into delectable fare and guests [no matter how unexpected] are made welcome. A slow simmer is what’s needed to tenderize the toughest cuts of meat, not a frantic broil–it all has it’s place in the kitchen of this world.