I’m posting quotes as we go through the fuzzy zone of being new parents again in these next days. This quote comes from Gerald May (Simply Sane, 107):
Whatever is being held, one can ease one’s grip. In the midst of any situation, no matter how tense or pressing, it is possible to relax. First the body, just easing the muscles and allowing the limbs to become flexible. Then the mind, in the same way, relaxing. Not avoiding the tension of the moment, it is possible to relax into it. Deeply….Whenever a knot is found, it can be allowed to loosen and perhaps unravel completely. Never by picking at the knot itself, but rather by easing the tension upon it.
The difference between work and play is only a matter of attitude. Work, fully done, is play. When the body works, it is dancing. When the mind works, it is dreaming. Appreciating the joys and sadnesses of both, one moves within the process of life.
From Gerald May’s Simply Sane, pg. 87
I just finished Will and Spirit by Gerald May, a commitment of careful reading. I took a year and a half to read it slowly while reading other things. Here’s a list of the ten books in my current pile. I’m holding the ones with asterisks now:
- The Memory Palace by Mira Bartok
- Blacks by Gwendolyn Brooks*
- The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
- Exploring Prosperity Preaching by Debra Mumford*
- Lying Awake by Mark Salzman*
- Faith in the Fire by Gardner C. Taylor*
- Mothers and Sons by Colm Toibin
- An Altar In The World by Barbara Brown Taylor
- Allah: A Christian Response by Miroslav Volf
- A Happy Marriage by Rafael Yglesias
Any recommendations for me, particularly for novels, short story collections, memoirs, or psychology and theology?
And what are you reading?
A quote for your consideration from Gerald May’s Will & Spirit.
God’s transcendent capacity for loving may well be infinitely greater than the combined capacities of all human beings, but one single person’s potential for loving–if truly opened–is enough of God’s immanence to incinerate everything we know and feel and have come to identify as ourselves. Each of us, in the act of really loving someone, has touched the fiery edge of this awesomeness and pulled back. Therefore, it must be understood that though sometimes we restrain our spirits because of ignorance or denial, there are other times when we hold it back because we know it too well.
I think Gerald May is one of the brightest, most compelling writers I’ve read. I was introduced to him by a professor in seminary. May was a psychiatrist and teacher of spirituality. He’s got some fascinating and penetrating material in the area of contemplation, for example. In one of his books, his first one, he talks about parents building children with methods and the importance of being with children. Here’s a quote from Simply Sane. I’ll post another tomorrow to round out parts of his thought.
Sometimes parents watch with fear, unable to know what to give their children, how to direct them. Not realizing the possibility of fully, freely being with their children, parents wonder how to be with their children. What is the proper technique? What is the best method? Caught in this dilemma, it is not unusual for parents to turn to psychotherapy for help. For guidance in the proper methods of raising children. And psychotherapy, it seems, always has something to say.
In its many forms, psychotherapy has offered a veritable smorgasbord of guidelines as to how children should be raised. A host of suggestions, almost all of which take the form of methods and techniques.
There was a time when psychotherapists advocated strictness, hard work, and solid rules. Then, in an almost universal misinterpretation of Freud, permissiveness became the way. More recently, parents have been told that the best child-raising involves listening to feelings and straight communication. All are methods. Whether a specific method works well or not is unimportant. What is important is that parents have an insatiable hunger for methods, and psychotherapists have an unending supply. When the method is what counts, the child is lost. For methods are not used for being. Methods are used for building.
One of the best parts of attending our denomination’s January pastor’s conference is that we get free books. Donors and publishers are extremely generous to ensure that every pastor has five or six books to carry home. That usually includes a book on some aspect of biblical interpretation, theology, self-care, historical or contemporary issues, and some other interesting topic.
Right now I’m reading Will and Spirit by one of my favorite authors, Gerald G. May, From Where You Dream by Robert Olen Butler, a superb recommendation I got from a literary agent’s blog. And I’m reading The Me I Want to Be by John Orberg–the book I got at the conference earlier this year. I’m reading Ortberg slowly but not because it isn’t good. It is.
I’m reading slowly because the book is about personal growth, really spiritual growth. And that’s slow work.
Here’s a passage from Ortberg’s chapter entitled, “Find a Few Difficult People to Help You Grow” (p. 210-211). He’s discussing when Jesus told his followers to do more than a Roman soldier could by law ask them to do. If the soldier said walk the obligatory mile, you, at the end of the mile, offer to go further. Go further with people in power. Go further with difficult people and what happens? You become more human, a better version of yourself:
Often when someone is difficult to me, I want to think of them as deliberately unlikable rather than as a real person with their own story. A friend offered to introduce English essayist Charles Lamb to a man whom Lamb had disliked for a long time by hearsay. “Don’t make me meet him,” Lamb said. “I want to go on hating him, and I can’t do that to a man I know.”
We can give the gift of empathy. We remember that the person we don’t like is also a human being. We put ourselves in thier place. We take the time to imagine how they feel, how they’re treated. We ask what would help them become the best version of themselves, and in turn the interaction becomes an opportunity for me to practice becoming the best version of myself. We actually need difficult people to reach our full potential.
Difficult people enable us to be better. They aren’t simply to be ignored or rushed passed. They are people, and when we treat them like people, we become better. They may not. They may persist in being difficult. They may not change. But we change. We come closer to being what Ortberg calls, the best version of ourselves.
I’ve noticed that I like for people to change more than I like to change. It’s easier for me to watch and push and encourage (or manipulate even) the movements of somebody else. Especially when someone else is difficult. But there’s something deeper when they don’t change. Something scarier. And that is my own change.
I spend a lot of good time thinking about how to help people change. And that spent time is not a waste. But it’s always harder and more painful to query my own insides. After all, I am a pretty difficult person too.