As those of you following this blog probably know, my goal is to come up with meaningful, light-inspiring observations, ideally one per day (as if). But the days are short and full (if someone can tell me how to find the perfect balance between too little to do [I’m not producing, I’m not accomplishing anything, I’m BOOOOOOred!] and too much to do [I’m panicking I’m stressed
I would really appreciate it.)
(Wow. What a sidebar. Sorry.)
But here’s the thing.
I’m really tired of people treating people like crap and getting away with it. And the people who have been treated like crap (the crapee’s, if you will) are told to be all accepting and Zen and professional while the perpetrators (the crapper’s, if you will) just go around all la-di-da, acting all friendly and innocent and going about their business as if they have the right to do whatever the @#$ they want and we’re just supposed to deal with it.
The following will seem not really related, but go with me for a minute and we’ll see if we can find it together.
Someone wrote on a friend’s Facebook wall today this little gem:
“If our identity is in our work, rather than Christ, success will go to our heads, and failure will go to our hearts.”
I thought about commenting, but then decided not to. I guess it’s not really my place [on Facebook] to voice my disagreement(s) any more than it’s any one else’s place to try to convince me that this statement is true. (Although they posted it, they didn’t post it on my wall, etc., etc.) Although I will try here — it is my blog, after all.
Our identity IS our work. And our successes, and failures, should go to both our heads and to our hearts. If we treat other people badly, we SHOULD feel guilty about it. If we try and fail, we should regret it, so we can decide whether to try again, or to try something else. If we succeed, we should be grateful, and generous, and use those successes to fuel other successes, to help make the world a better place, help another person, share the wealth, share the joy, share share share.
Saying that God’s Will will get us the right job or bring us a baby or cure our disease or take our now-dead loved one to heaven might make us feel better, but don’t we all have to do something about that anyway/as well? Study hard, write the cover letters and the kick-ass resumé, learn how to network and interact with people and look them in the eye when we’re having a conversation; take care of our bodies, adopt a child if we can’t give birth to one, thank the doctors who take care of us and shun the ones who scorn us, learn to live without the one we loved who is no longer with us. We can’t really expect to sit on our couch, hands folded, and wait expectantly for any of these things to fall into our laps.
(My mom lay dying in a hospice bed, and people would come to visit and proclaim “God is good” because she had moved her left leg by herself that morning, and all I could think was “Really? Good because she’s suffered for five years with brain cancer and two breast cancers and a stroke which temporarily paralyzed her and she’s still dying, but we’ll thank God for this One Little Thing He Has Done For Her while ignoring all he hasn’t?”)
Whether you believe in God or not, you have an obligation to the people around you to look out for the “God” in each and every person; the Divine [Namaste]. And by that all I mean is this: we are all fighting hard battles, we are all tired and overworked and stretching our budgets and trying to get our kids good educations and good opportunities while teaching them self-reliance and responsibility and driving them to ballet and cooking meals they don’t like and tripping over their shoes in the hallway. I curse the potholes and the people who try to take my lane on the highway while I’m still in it, but every single time I have to drive into work at rush hour people in two lanes stop to let me turn left across traffic. Every. Single. Time.
Our identity, our success, our failure, they are ALL our work. And whether in life you do actually reap exactly what you sow, somehow you do — even if it only manifests itself as a shadow you throw onto your own soul; or a light. You choose.
Take care of each other. This might be all we have.