Independence

Have I mentioned that life is a paradox? That is to say that both this and its polar opposite that are true at one and the same time. I generally refer to this as the both/and of life. It’s one of the things about life that drives us all nuts. Here’s an example:

Independence enslaves us. 

Oh now you want me to explain myself. O.K. Here is another way of saying it:

What we resist persists.

Or how about this- it’s like studying martial arts your entire life only to finally realize that what the masters have mastered is not the art of fighting, but the art of non-fighting.

In honor of the birth of the United States of America, let’s talk independence. Now if you are an American worth your salt, when you hear independence you automatically think “freedom.” And when we hear freedom we generally think freedom from oppression, or in other words the freedom to do as we damn well please. Sounds nice, if not a bit juvenile (sorry, that was judgy and I’m working on that). I think at a deeper level what we are all (and by all I do mean all humans) seeking is the space, the ability, and the opportunity to self-actualize- to become who we truly are, to live into our full being and potential. I want that. I absolutely want that. And I want that for you too.

Now let’s get real about it. Let me just say upfront that I am an independence expert. I have pointed this out before, but let me reiterate. I learned to be independent at a very young age. Want to know my secret? Fine. All I had to do was isolate myself. If you can’t touch me, you can’t tell me what to do much less hurt me. That makes me free to be me. I don’t need any of you! I mean what on earth could be more free than that??!!

You’re not buying it, are you? Well what if I told you that my stark independence allowed me to, say, go to the college of my choosing (against my father’s wishes), change my degree track from a Bachelor of Science in Engineering to a Bachelor of Arts (without my parents’ knowledge), and switch my varsity sport (again in spite of the fact that my father thought I was a nut job)? Are you impressed now? Yes, I am also hard headed to boot. My parents didn’t have much of a choice other than to put their hands up in the air lest they be run over. I was going to do what I was going to do. Three cheers for independence!

Now you are probably savvy enough to realize that, well, I didn’t actually do all of that and then some entirely by myself. Not even close. If my parents didn’t necessarily agree with all of my choices, they didn’t rip the rug out from under me either. That’s to say nothing of all of the pomp and circumstance into which I was born and which has provided the context for my life. Time to double down on the real. I was born into an upper middle class white family in the United States of America. And it is largely because of THAT, that I have been able to live out this sense (or illusion as the case may be) of independence. Change any one of those variables, and you get an entirely different story. Granted, I am female and I am gay and those two variables come with obstacles, but still… I’m privileged.

Irony of all ironies, there is a tradition here in Vermont (one of the whitest states in the country) to read Frederick Douglass’s “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July” the week of the 4th. As it turns out, Vermont’s whiteness is not an innocent circumstance. The state discouraged blacks from moving here through curfew laws and sterilization programs. Sorry to throw you under the bus, Vermont, but the truth shall set you free. Which, to your credit, is why in just about every Vermont town, small and large, folks get together to reconsider what exactly we are celebrating on Independence Day. We kicked off our July 4th weekend by attending the reading in nearby Castleton on the 3rd. As people from the town began to arrive the hosts asked each person if he/she would like to read. Silly me thought I was showing up to a passive listening event. 

Um, heck no, I will not be reading! I apparently forgot to wear my introvert button. Shannon too. Not that that is a valid excuse really because I speak publicly A LOT. Part of my defense, if I do have one, is that when I speak publicly I never actually read. That doesn’t work well for me because, more truth be told, I have a speech impediment and one of the surest ways to find that out is to ask me to read aloud. So I don’t read aloud. I just speak. That works better. But I digress. The bigger reason I was not about to read at this event was because even though I embarrassingly had never read the speech before, I knew there was no way in heck that I would be able to do so without getting choked up if not outright cry. And I was right about that. There was a collective oration of the end of the speech and I couldn’t even get through four words of that before I simply had to stop. Do yourself a favor and read it for yourself:

https://www.vermonthumanities.org/programs/public-programs/reading-frederick-douglass/before-your-event/speech-transcripts/

But let me get to my big thing these days. Independence, by any means, doesn’t necessarily lead to freedom. That was a sacrilegious statement, I know. But if we equate freedom with the ability to fully self-actualize, then the writing is on the wall. Why? Because we are our relationships, yet independence inherently seeks to make us free from that pesky little reality. I thought/ we think that being free from our outside conditions (relations) is the key to freedom. It simply isn’t so. Where we find ourselves is not in isolation from “others,” but by delving into them so deeply that we can no longer differentiate me from you and them from us. To arrive in that place is to realize that in fact I am ALL OF IT.  To get to that place, I am learning, requires primarily that we relinquish judgement of both ourselves and of others. Shannon and I are taking Charles Eisenstein’s mini-course called “Unlearning for Change Agents” at the moment. You can find it on his website:

https://charleseisenstein.org/programs/#courses

The course involves a series of fasts. We are on the third fast, which is a fast from self-judgement. It’s tricky. What is clear to me at this point is that even to judge myself as good (I do believe that I am a good person) only keeps me locked in separation. But we want to be good, right???? As it turns out, no, no we don’t. It hurts your head, doesn’t it? Yet the message is being reiterated loud and clear, shouted if you will, in my ear these days. I just finished the year long A Course in Miracles. Same thing. In short, it is through the relinquishment of all judgement that we are healed (self-actualized) into our full divine nature. In Zen Buddhism this is the principle of equanimity, which is simply that you can’t see all people as equal as long as judgement is a part of your M.O. Rumi said it like this: 

“Beyond the rightness or wrongness of things there is a field, I’ll meet you there.”

Notice he didn’t just call out the wrong stuff. Oh, and I thought the object was to be good. Nope. Apparently the object is to just plain be. So much unlearning to do, so little time! 

So what to finally make of independence? How about we just start with a triple dose of reality: we’re not. The end. And it will be the end if we don’t realize that we are not independent very, very soon. We all want to be free from oppression. We all want to self-actualize. That simply cannot happen as long as we continue to pretend that I can get there without each and every one of you also getting there alongside of me. Screw independence. I think that what we will ultimately find is that we will never achieve freedom (non-oppression) by resisting oppression. The only way to get there is to not participate in oppression in the first place. As Rumi pointed out, there is something beyond judgement, beyond oppression, that is much more than the negation of those things. What I want is out there in Rumi’s field. What I want is all of me. To get there requires nothing short of joining a collective interbeing. How is that for a paradox? And of course, paradoxes being paradoxes, the reverse is also true- I can’t achieve interbeing without being fully me any more than I can achieve me without fully interbeing. Have fun with that!

Speaking of fun, I had a truly amazing 4th of July weekend. Following our initiation on the 3rd, we spent our traditional long, slow day with family and friends on the 4th. There is something nice about the tradition of it. It reminds us of our collective belonging. For us that tradition starts early with a drive over the Green Mountains to Sandy’s Bakery in Rochester for breakfast and coffee. The people who work there know us and we are always happy to see each other. On this day the woman who made my coffee is an artist who I bought a painting from last year. She knows my patterns so well that she knew to track me down on my way to the bathroom to break the news to me that they were out of peanut butter for my bagel. So sweet.

Then we headed up the spectacularly scenic Route 100 to the parade in Warren. Besides the sheer whackiness of it, one of the things I love most about the Warren parade is the buddy system. Everyone purchases stickers with numbers on it with the object of finding your match, your buddy, in the crowd. People search feverishly before the parade to try to find their buddies. It’s great fun and a great way to orchestrate a huge collective sense of belonging amongst a crowd of seemingly not quite strangers anymore… even if, as it often does, your buddies remain hidden to you. You know they are out there somewhere nonetheless.

From there it is a hop back over the mountain to Carol’s family & friends picnic on their farm. Great friends, good conversations, wonderful food, a refreshing dip in the river, and the not to be missed fresh strawberry shortcake! Finally, it’s back to Lake Hortonia for our fireworks. Mind you, there aren’t any official fireworks on Lake Hortonia. Rather, there are a whole lot of pyrotechnician-wanna-be’s who get better and better every year. As the various “shows” go off around the lake it’s like watching fireworks with 3D glasses on. There isn’t a bad seat in the house, although the view was pretty spectacular this year from Jean’s place as they stepped up their game (watch out overachievers across the lake… your competition is already scheming for next year!). So having said all of that, maybe you have gathered that what made my day so special wasn’t so much independence, but community.

Friday Shannon and I started with breakfast at The Wheel Inn, which, let’s be honest, is practically like eating at home for us these days! Much tender loving care from our waitress, as usual. Then we napped before driving over the mountain again to try out The Wild Fern pizza joint in Stockbridge. We were immediately met with warmth by the owner, Heather. As we sat and slowly got around to ordering, we basically got to hear her life story, the story of her place (she’s a musician and essentially the pizza joint gives her a place to play), and just generally connect. Again, community. Connection. When you go to listen to music at a knockabout joint on the side of the road in the middle of the mountains in Vermont, I guarantee what you will witness and experience is community (love) in action.

Saturday was a lazy day at home watching a massive rainstorm come through, but wouldn’t you know, Jean and Carol coerced us into going to dinner with them at, you guessed it, The Wheel. Yes, they had to twist our arms. Not. It wasn’t until we met them there that we realized that Jean really, really needed the break and just some down time with friends. She has been building her house for the last year, had worked like mad to get it to a point that she could host her family for the 4th, only to come home yesterday from running errands to a thoroughly soaked house because not only had she left the windows open, but her front doors swung open too. Ugh. Bummer. But you know what makes it all better? Friends. And, yes, of course The Wheel!

That brings us to today. This morning Shannon and I went over to watch the reenactment of the Hubbardton Battle in the Revolutionary War. We watched from the adjacent Taconic Mountains Ramble State Park, one of our favorites. This is where we go to run every morning. Well, o.k., most every morning. I mean if you could go running here, wouldn’t you run (almost) every day???:

One of the great things about this park is the Zen garden that the previous owners created. So think of us passing through a Zen garden on a trail to the top of the cliffs to watch the battle from a distance. Surreal. From our perch we watched as the citizen-soldiers in homespun uniforms fought valiantly against the Redcoats, ultimately losing the battle while helping to win the war. Honestly, I didn’t know what my experience of this whole affair was going to be. First off, it did make this whole independence thing a little more real for me. I watched in reverence. Yet as I looked out over the beautiful mountains that surround this one time, memorialized for all time battlefield, all I could wonder is, “What do the mountains think?” I could almost hear them whispering, “They are at it again. Will they ever learn?”

Now it is very tempting to leave it there, but I have to say one last thing. After watching that battle, we went to watch a real live battle only this time on a TV, at a bar. You guessed it: USA Women’s Soccer vs. the Netherlands. Well, what else can I say, except… Go USA!