Gateways

Growing up in St. Louis, the Gateway Arch is a constant.  This Icon of the city where I live is displayed on logos for city services, car dealerships, morning newscasts and beyond.  More than a monument, the St. Louis Arch is an identity; underscoring our centralized location on the map, and our history as a center of commerce. It so happens that this date, 10/28/15 is the 50^th anniversary of its completion, the day that the final section was eased into place with a margin of error of only centimeters.  What an amazing feat to create this symbol of strength and progress.

Today is another anniversary as well; one smaller in stature but no less meaningful to me.  On this date 17 years ago, I met with a surgeon to receive the diagnosis of breast cancer in my right breast.  Although I could not have known it at the time, that day laid the groundwork for a new identity; a gateway to a different life than the one I’d been living.  You might not have noticed if you’d been looking at me from the outside, although you would have clearly seen the hair-loss and the fatigue of the next months to years.  You might have heard that I had extensive surgeries, but couldn’t have realized that I was blighted, razed and dug into like the riverfront earth where foundations were set deeply to hold a delicate yet powerful new form.  

No, this gateway was more personal, an internal rebuilding without reference to the blueprint to make certain the new structure stayed on course.  This rebuilding was haphazard at first, and had to be created along the way.  There was no way to plan the outcome, and uncertainty about whether the whole thing might just collapse at any point along the way.  I guess that could be said about each of us and our own personal gateway experiences.  Even with the best of plans, we are all held by the hand of fate; architects of our own lives living in a state of delicate balance.

In the midst of the celebrations in St. Louis, I heard reference to DaVinci’s description of an arch as “consisting of two weaknesses which leaning one against the other make a strength.”  These words strike me as a perfect description of life in relationship.  The arch of my recovery has been propped against the equally vulnerable support of my husband and family, when the wind blows hard, and I wonder if I might just topple this time, I reach across to them, and find strength in the broken places.  The further we get from the start, the more we need each other for support.  Leaning against one another, we make a strength.  Our gateway opens to a multitude of possibilities.  We are symbols of progress.

Branching Out

 This blog is part of an effort toward collecting my thoughts and experiences of trauma in a book for general readership.  At times I struggle to stay on track with the project, life gets in the way, but if I criticize myself for not doing enough or moving fast enough, I will have defeated my purpose.  Instead, I remind myself that the book is an ongoing process that will reach its completion at the right time, if I don't get in my own way.

The book seems to come together in tree form, like the "Grandfather Tree" that embraces the window of my study.  Branches of meaning come together at a central core, while all around the edges are leaflets of ideas; snippets of life clustering around connective twigs of story.  It is a network of personal and interpersonal energies moving in many directions through space and time.  My Self in connection with the Universe; the Spirit of harmony; the FLOW.

The trick is to allow myself to tolerate vulnerability - to trust - after all of the hard knocks of life in the real world of relationships and obligations.  To trust my Self, I must find ways to practice mindful awareness in the day to day.  It is essential to relationships, to my immune system, to my bio-social-emotional wellbeing, that I engage in connection, rather than dwell in the stress of task completion, interspersed with withdrawal and escape tactics.  In order to move through our part of the "network" effectively, we must open channels for energies to FLOW through, and find release.  Willingness to be open, to be mindful without judgement, to avoid imposing meanings; willingness to merely observe, with compassion, our own actions, and those of others; that is the Buddhist concept of Zen with with we can counterbalance the hectic, daily distractions and details of our lives in "Real-Time."

Look to the trees for inspiration (literally "to breathe in").  As energy flows from earth and sky, they take it in, and maintain flexibility.  Trees flourish in good times and stand strong amidst storms.  They endure, participating in the cycle of life without trying to grab control of their environment.  Giving breath and taking nourishment from their interconnection with the living things around them, creating new growth from decay, transforming that which enters their field.  They remain rooted in the earth until their time on earth is complete, yet even then, they contribute to the warmth, the shelter, the comfort of others, even the pages on which my book will eventually be printed is a gift of the trees; Inspiring.