Posts Tagged: self understanding

rounding on fifty and asking questions

I came across a bunch of thought provoking questions, which I thought would be great way to reflect via some blog posts during this week leading up to the aforementioned LANDMARK BIRTHDAY.  Some of the questions are “meaning of life” kinds of things, others get you probing who you are and what makes you do the things you do.  Some are very simple – although I do believe a simple and fast answer to a seemingly simple question can bring sometimes astounding and often deep answers. 

Mostly I just think it will be a fun way to check into who this gal has become as she rounds 50, and maybe (hopefully) illustrate some of the things I’ve actually learned over these 50 years. 

(I’m not going to tag you as one would do in your standard meme; but I would love to hear your answers to any of the questions – whether in the comments or on your own blogs.  If you're so inclined – tag yourself!)

 

What does love feel like?

Peaceful.

 

What made you smile this week?

  • Seeing the face of my niece as she carried my flaming birthday cake while everyone sang.  Nobody loves a birthday cake as much as Elaine and the various pictures of her smiling at her own birthday cakes over the course of her life are a testament to that.  If you saw Elaine’s birthday cake smile, you’d smile too.  (Elaine’s birthday cake smile – beautiful thing number 30.)
  • Seeing my bathroom scale register another notch below last time – even after the excesses of the pre-birthday party.  And I'm not just talkin' cake. 
  • The rapt look on the faces of some tiny kids sitting on the floor of a bookstore next to their dad as he read stories to them.  (A dad taking time out of a shopping trip to plunk himself down on the floor and read to his tiny kids – beautiful thing number 31.)
  • Hearing the voice of my cousin Ian over the telephone receiver.  (The familiar and not-heard-in-a-long-time voice of a loved one – beautiful thing number 32.)
  • Trying on the new nightie I had to buy because I’m sharing a hotel room with some family members this weekend and it wouldn’t do to sleep in the absence of bed clothes as I do at home.  Despite that my use for a nightie is limited to when not sleeping at home, or around the house after I’ve gotten up, I didn’t by the 40% off one as I was first inclined, instead I bought the gorgeously pretty one, the one that feels so soft and natural, and loved the minute I first saw it.  As I laid in bed this morning and admired the thing hanging on its hook, I smiled again, glad that I was able to buy myself this birthday present that was not the least bit practical but made me happy.  (My new nightie – even more beautiful for all its impracticalness – beautiful thing number 33.)

 

What are your favourite simple pleasures?

Hanging laundry on the line.  Clean sheets.  Open windows.  That first sip of coffee.  Walking.  The smell of dirt in spring.  Rainy days.  Lilacs. The smell of the woods.  Barbeques.

 

What is your fondest memory from the past three years?

It has to be this party.

 

What book has had the greatest influence on your life?

If I had to narrow it down to one, I think it would be The Secret Garden.  Certainly the first time I encountered that story I wouldn’t have known of the lessons inherent in it:  that in the natural world one finds healing and true meaning in our existence; and that nurturing things/people outside yourself brings is what brings true happiness and fulfillment; and that beauty invites spiritual awareness and growth. 

But now, having read that story a number of times over my lifetime, it's clear that my perspective and understanding of all these things is a major force in how I view the world, and how take meaning from my life and what’s happened in it.  Occasionally, in my denseness, I need to re-visit these lessons – but they are lessons that I know deep within me.  That story, The Secret Garden, beautiful thing number 34.

 

I'm finding beauty, are you?

talkin’ truth (and a journalling challenge)

For a long time I’ve been fascinated with the idea of what I call my inner “snapshots,” the idea that I carry with me certain scenes and images from my life of experiences always, while most other events are forgotten.  That famous quote from Cesare Pavese seems to echo this idea: "we don't remember days, we remember moments."  Teachers of memoir will tell you that these are the memories to focus on – that there is always a lesson in the inner “snapshot."  That these are the moments marking the times when your life changed somehow, and if you really take a good look at these moments you’ll find they mark some point of learning or new direction. 

A few of my earliest personal “snapshots” include:

  • Being in the backyard with dad who is retrieving flowers for my Aunt Martha’s wedding from the back shed. I see and remark on a “hairpane” in the sky and am taught the real pronunciation of airplane.
  • Me making little sculptures from leftover pie dough to go in the oven with mom’s pie.
  • Sitting in my friend Helen’s backyard at the picnic table while her dad cuts up warm peaches for us fresh off the tree.

Years ago I wrote a personal story based on one of these inner snapshots, which was eventually read by CBC Radio storyteller and author Stuart McLean on his popular show the Vinyl Cafe.   The story is about a man who, for a time, showed up at public ice skating sessions in the small town where I lived when I was a kid; a man of a visible minority rarely encountered in that town. 

Some of my friends and family members who heard the story on the radio said to me later they didn’t remember that man at all.  And even though the memory is still distinct in my mind – after all he was so startlingly out of place in that town – I started to question it, and ultimately the veracity of my story.  Did I dream it?  These kinds of questions have come up again numerous times after writing other stories and I wonder sometimes, why do I question my own truth?

And these questions are not unusual – they come up all the time in my memoir and non-fiction classes:  “What if someone I write about denies something happened?  Or denies it happened the way I remember it happening?  Am I still allowed to write it?” 

Yes.  Because memoir and personal stories are just that – personal.  They are about discovering and writing YOUR truth, and honouring it; they are about recreating experiences and finding how these events changed you and helped to create the person you've become. 

In discussing memoir, writer, author and teacher William Zinsser echoes the significance of these moments for writers when he says the writer should look to “small self-contained incidents that are still vivid in your memory. If you still remember them it's because they contain a universal truth that your readers will recognize from their own life.” 

Zinsser says, “Your biggest stories will often have less to do with their subject than with their significance — not what you did in a certain situation, but how that situation affected you and shaped the person you became.”

Indeed.  After writing the story about the man at the skating rink, I discovered that what I really learned were lessons about compassion and the value and universal need for community and fellowship.  Maybe some of the people I know don’t remember that man because the experience of him didn’t carry any message for them.  But even if their memories don’t sustain the experience of the ice skating man, they DO share an understanding of a universal truth I uncovered in my memory.

My own belief is that the idea of “truth” cannot be labelled as one singular, universal concept.  Truth is a personal, maleable understanding; it contains many layers and there are many factors which contribute to its existence.  And I believe that in acknowledging these layers and levels of truth, writers will tell stories with more compassion – not only toward others but themselves.  And if you write YOUR truth with both honesty and compassion, I can assure you, you'll be blown away by its power.

  • a journalling challenge

    • Have you ever had a personal memory or version of your history that differs from that of your family or friends? What do you make of it?
    • Are you compelled to revise your own version of that truth because other people say "that's how it happened?"
    • What's the difference between “truth” and “fact?”
    • What are some of your inner snapshots?