A vision statement for the next 45 years

On Wednesday, March 7, I wrote the following affirmation, to outline the person I wanted to become, the life I wanted to lead, the qualities I wanted to demonstrate. On this date, July 8, I re-commit to doing all I can to live up to the sentiments expressed in these few lines:

I am committed to being a man of integrity, of self-discipline and courage. I will not be swayed by the opinions of others; I will not be assaulted by self-doubt or paralysed by indecision. I am a man of God, committing all my thoughts and deeds, plans and dreams, to the Lord. The qualities I admire in others - strength, self-discipline, forthrightness - will be qualities I aspire to model and embrace.

I will let Celena know that I will be there for her, no matter what may come. I will let her know that I am grateful for her presence in my life, and for her unwavering support and unconditional acceptance. Most of all, I will let her know that I love her, each and every day, in each and every way - passionately, graciously, abundanly

I will 'converse' daily with my two God-given delights, Amber Rose and Brodie. Each day, and throughout each day, I will let them know when I am doing it tough and share with them my joys and successes. I will share with them my joys and successes. All I do will be for them, who have died and for children who are living, but not able to yet enjoy qualitiy life.

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Leaving it to Beaver

Having always appreciated the acting ability of Mel Gibson, I finally checked out the innovative movie, The Beaver. Talk about heavy! The movie's premise is straight forward enough: a depressed man finds that the only way he can communicate with those around him (including his wife and two sons) is through a hand-held puppet. The puppet, obviously called The Beaver, gives Gibson's character, Walter, a voice (albeit sounding uncannily like acclaimed British actor, Ray Winstone), to say things he cannot otherwise articulate.

While that may sound like the recipe for a somewhat quirky, even humourous take on the difficult subject of depression, forget it! This is a film that is as dark as the fur coat of the addition to Gibson's left forearm.

I don't intend to use the rest of this blog to critique the film, or any of the performances in it. There are other bloggers, and other film commentators, that do that sort of thing much more eloquently, and knowledgeably, than me. But one part of the film is gnawing at me, much like the buck-teeth of the animal in question do to a piece of wood.

When it comes to dealing with life's curveballs, who's to say how a person should respond? We each have our challenges and only we can discern the most appropriate way of how we overcome (or not) those hurdles, and how we emerge (or not) from the darkness of despair. Obviously, it is important not to hurt or damage others in the process but if a habit, a behaviour or a particular item offers us comfort, strength, security and, most of all, hope, then surely that's a small price to pay?

I'm not condoning anything that puts us, or those around us, at risk (emotionally, physically, mentally or spiritually) or trying to 'self-justify' decisions that I have made in the past. And please don't think my exposure to a creative Hollywood interepration of the significant and all-too-real issue of depression has suddenly made me an expert in human behaviour or even psychology. (To claim the latter would be foolhardy, at the least, dangerous, at the worst.)

Part of the human condition is that we are all broken and flawed. In different ways, at different times, we each hide behind our own version of The Beaver: a mask, a quirk, a ritual, something that sustains or empowers us. Unless it becomes pathological, this extra source of strength or comfort can be a  saving grace. (Who's not to say that playing the part of a man unhinged and on the edge was not cathartic for Gibson, a man who, it would seem, is indeed plagued by his own share of demons and personal challenges.)

For all the buck-toothed simplicity of the titular character, The Beaver was a movie that posed plenty of questions. Significantly, (for a product of Hollywood), it didn't settle for offering easy answers. I don't know about you, but that sounds a lot like life itself!

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The challenge of staying put

A sentiment often expressed to those who have experienced some sort of loss or trauma is that they need to 'move on'. It's a well-intentioned statement, emanating from a desire to see the person, or people, recapture a zest for life and to rekindle their purpose in living. Or is it totally altruistic?

It's not easy being in the moment with someone, when they are feeling sorrow, or anger, or hurt, or betrayal. I know I find it difficult dealing with conflict, and the myriad of 'negative' emotions that come from breakdowns in communication or falling short of expectations. But I am learning that if I do not stay present to what is being shared, I miss an opportunity for growth. I may think it preferable to 'move on' but really, I need to stay present to whatever is being shared and ensure that the person doing the venting, the ranting, the outpouring, knows that I am there, regardless!

We need to stay present to whatever is being shared

Anyone that has 'moved' will know that going from one house to another, one office space to another, is only part of the journey. When the removalists have pulled out, you still have the boxes to be unpacked, the furniture to be arranged and the mail to be redirected. It's an ongoing process and you need to attend to the various tasks, at your leisure and as your circumstances allow.

Moving on is no different. It takes time. It takes an effort. Those we want to 'move on' will do so at their pace, in a way that respects their particular circumstances. It's not easy but they need us to stay there, in the moment and offering the assurance that says: "I'm not going anywhere!"

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Message to a little child on the beach

Dear Little Girl:

You ran along that beach yesterday as if you were never going to stop. Your little white legs propelled you along the sand, and your hair waved like tree branches in the afternoon breeze. It was a sunny afternoon and your bare skin, save for a pair of muddy knickers, seemed to soak up the rays of the declining sun.

I sat and watched as you ran: so carefree, so uninhibited, so oblivious to all those who paced, stormed, sauntered or strolled past. You were on your way to a destination that only you could see and it made me smile to see you having such fun.

As you get older, you will probably run with more precision, and less abandon. People will tell you to 'put on some clothes' and to 'slow down', to 'be careful'. You may start to notice the people around you and react according to how they respond to you - it's confusing I know but this is how adults get through life: we think about how others see us and then act according to how we see their reactions to us. Yes, as I say, it's confusing...

But in that moment in which I watched you run, life was not confusing. It was simple, it was pleasant and it was something to be celebrated. Little girl, you ran and ran and ran...and I didn't want to see you stop! I pray it will always be that way for you.
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