The Silent River
What Easter can teach us about our lives, secular or not..
Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.
-“Ask Me” by Robert Lowell
This Easter has felt different, and I tried to put my finger on why that is. It's not because of Robert Lowell, my favorite poet and my idol when I was doing all this creative writing for my English degree. It wasn't because it's the first free-world Easter, that was last year. No, I think Easter hits differently now because for once I feel there's a chance of some kind of redemption, a resurrection of sorts. I feel momentum torwards finally getting a job in the Addiction field and jump-starting my new career track. I feel a bit healthier, have a better mental mindset, and positive people in my corner (most of the negative people have at least learned to shut up). Robert Lowell writes in his poem “Ask me whether what I have done is my life” and I think that's something I am sitting with right now, waiting for it to be asked. Certainly we all know, especially in our journey of recovery and healing, what it's like when people assume the worst aspects of what we have done are the ONLY things that become relevant to our lives, as if what we've “done” with our lives can only contain our criminality, addiction, dysfunctional relationships, crappy parenting, etc. An ally of mine and a colleague in the field called this what it is-Discrimination. I believe she is right, because that's what it really is.. discriminating because of past things we cannot change or undo. As I often quote Bryan Stevenson, “Nobody is the worst thing they have ever done” and that's something I carry with me, part of my own personal sense of Resurrection.
Resurrection is something I relate strongly and powerfully to-Jesus was only in the tomb 3 days, but I was living in the tomb of my own dysfunction for well over 20 years, whitewashing the walls to make it look less tomblike. It was only when the handcuffs went on did I realize “Oh S**t, I've been dying inside as a functional man”. A necessary part of me died the day the the cuffs went on my wrists. I hear people talk about being rescued “not arrested” and to some extent that rings true. For many of us, the self-destruction only stopped when we were taken away from it, not of our own choosing. How many of us would have kept on if an opposing force (like law enforcement) had not stopped us? How many of us would have become a statistic, an obituary, a cautionary tale other people in the community tell their kids- “You saw what happened to him, You don't want to end up like her”. So much damage that we realize could actually have been worse had we not somehow “bottomed out”.
The metaphor of The Silent River comes in mind easily to me. Rivers don't worry about gravity, or opinions, or missed opportunities. Rivers seek direction and simply flow. Rivers don't ask permission, they move. Rivers ebb and flow and move, and swell and dry up and as such, life is much of the same pattern of movement. You will have good days and bad days, energetic days when recovery seems pretty badass, and other days when it just..well.. really really sucks. The key here is to keep moving. I get rejected for work, or an idea doesn't work out..whatever the challenge is that day. I keep going because I believe in myself finally, in my own momentum, and most importantly I have people who champion me (If you are reading this, you know who you are, dear colleagues and friends). Some day when I am retired from the hustle and bustle of life, I am sure someone will ask me if what I have done actually IS my life, and I will have to say “No, Not really. My life has been my life, and my work has been my calling from God”. Perhaps this is the more honest way of being.