The world is a messy place. My home? It is messy in spots, little corners, under the living room table, around the computer desk. It finds order when we clean. And returns to chaos again. I usually recognize an order to the chaos. I manage to find what I need. I’m staring out the window at a March snowstorm. It’s so warm that drips of icewater are clinging to the dusted oaks. The north sides of the trees are scaled with flakes. The south sides are completely dry. That seems orderly to me.
I was at Sears yesterday to repair a flat tire. I always buy the RoadHandler agreement and it pays for itself 10X over the life of a 60,000 mile set of tires. The gray rugs were covered with grease spots. The windows between me and the repair bays were spotty and smudged. But the TV area (I turned it off and did a Writing Practice) was neat as a pin. Cardboard box of Brew-Rite stirring sticks, packets of Sweet’N Low – Not For Resale, N’Joy Pure Cane Sugar in an orangish-red container, navy creamer to match, coffee pot with dialed clock, Craftsman tool brochures all in their places.
There was the familiar smell of Gojo, grease, and tire rubber, the clanking of iron on steel, and a sign that read, % of Jobs Meeting Our Commitment Time To Our Customer, with a dry erase board underneath. Empty. Devoid of a number. I wonder if tires are still made from rubber? So many things are plastic. The earth will never reclaim them.
I see art made from discarded tires. Tabletops, lampshades. A few hunks of snow drop on the deck, leaving BB hole footprints. The ice skating pond was a puddle a few days ago. It’s covered with new snow. But I wanted to say, that when I did the Writing Practice at Sears in my notebook by hand, everything dropped away. And it brought order to my mind. I spent most of the day dealing with the car. It can feel like a waste of time. But I made the most of it. And for an hour or so afterwards, visited with my friend. A few days ago, two female wild turkeys started showing up outside of her home. Out of the middle of nowhere.
Turkey in the Medicine Cards is about the give-a-way. Generosity. Not so much about giving time, energy, information, art, writing, away, like so many of us do. But about giving for the good of the whole. That doesn’t mean you can’t take a stand. But no need to push things over the edge. To become combative and aggressive. Because that’s how the world becomes a messy place. A flat tire? That’s life. That happens. There is no particular meaning to it. Bashing other people – that is a choice. We get to choose where we want to put our energy.
I get sad all over again when I see all the racist comments ping-ponging around. It’s on all sides. No one is immune. As soon as people are reduced to “us and them,” there is no going back. To be honest, I am sick of it. No one should be bashed because they are white. No one should be bashed because they are black. No one should be bashed because they worship at a different church. No one should be bashed. Chaos ensues. That makes the world messy.
I’m oversimplifying because I don’t want to get into details. Did I earn the right to say what I feel, to generalize in emotion? Probably not. But I can’t help but think, that every single snowflake is uniquely patterned, and falls with the same amount of grace. I walked out on the deck and took a few snapshots, pointed the lens straight up into the sturdy oaks. I thought of the Practice of haiku. The Practice of writing. And wondered if the world might be a better place if people made a spiritual practice of their politics. Instead of forcing them on everyone else.
I had no intention of writing about this. But for the last few days, it’s what has surfaced in my Practices. Should I post it for my Practice on messiness? I don’t know. Relationships are messy. Political relationships are messier. Emotions color the truth. They can also make it clearer, if people would only focus on the heart underneath. Turkey medicine. Unity. The good of the whole. It doesn’t mention winning by any means necessary.
What I see in front of me is kind of messy. But it’s an order I understand. A Taos drum I bought at the pueblo in the early 80’s. Rows of budding leaves atop the umbrella plant on the stereo case, lime orderly patterns drooping over the birch. Each leaf has its place in the order of things. Green prosperity candle. A bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Miniatures next to a bag of York Peppermint Patties.
Steve Almond’s Candy Freak, Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing, New and Selected Poems of Mary Oliver, A Legal Guide for Lesbian & Gay Couples, a red and white Canon video recorder box. A 10” by 10” sign next to the CD player scribbled in my all-caps block print, each letter a different color. It says, I Love Lizzie, heart as exclamation point. I smile everyday when I see it. It’s leftover from her birthday.
Maybe I should make another sign that says, I Love Every Person On The Planet, No Matter Who They Are, and hang it from the snow crested oaks for everyone to see. I imagine people passing by will either smile and give me the thumbs up. Or shake their heads, turn to their friends and say, “What a fool.”
-posted on red Ravine, Tuesday, March 18th, 2008
-related to Topic post, WRITING TOPIC – MESS
redravine.wordpress.com 
Great stuff – I like the way it seems to be heading off in a random direction and then suddenly ties itself back in again to the theme having added a new dimension to it in the process.
“But no need to push things over the edge. To become combative and aggressive. Because that’s how the world becomes a messy place. A flat tire? That’s life. That happens. There is no particular meaning to it. Bashing other people – that is a choice. We get to choose where we want to put our energy.”
Very true, and very well put!
“every single snowflake is uniquely patterned, and falls with the same amount of grace.”
Beautiful…
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There is a woman I will have to work with for several weeks. Several weeks, and then I’ll never see her again. The instant we were in each other’s presence there was that bad sort of rub. Irritation. Me thinking, “If only she were not a part of my life, life would be great.” I hunkered down to endure her for the weeks ahead of me.
But I’m tired of facing people that way. So instead, I am thinking ever time I pass her desk or hear her speak, “I’m willing to love S___.” I don’t make myself say, “I love S___.” That would be too hard and a lie. But I can be willing. Or willing to be willing.
It’s working. I’m barely noticing her. Feeling neutral.
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Good for you for taking your notebook with you to Sears. BTW, I love Sears for things like buying tires, appliances, vacuum cleaner. A friend of Jim’s works in the appliance section of our local Sears, so we go there a lot.
From your writing practice, it seems as though you found the topic Mess to be huge. The world, the political arena, the working space in the Sears tire repair shop, your immediate area, two sides of an oak. This is what I love about writing practice, how one simple word or notion can lead the writer all over the world. Well, that’s how our minds work, isn’t it?
I saw that you had written for 25 minutes and I was impressed. I know you and I both write long stints, but usually we do shorter timed writing for the blog. When my timer went off, and I had set it for 15 minutes, I kept writing. I didn’t reset the timer, so I had to keep looking at the time on my phone. I think I wrote for about 24 minutes, or 23. I wasn’t sure to state in the title whether it was 20 or 25, and in the end I rounded up to 25.
But what I want to say about that is, it felt good to just keep writing. I hadn’t done that for a while. I’ve been pretty true to 15-minute practices, but this time I felt like staying with the topic.
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Lirone, thanks. I read and commented on your Mess Writing Practice as well at Words that sing. Thank you for writing with us. I look forward to your next Practices.
Sinclair, that’s walking your talk. Becoming willing is half the battle for me. I can be so stubborn sometimes. And I have to decide, what do I really want to put my energy into today? For this one moment? I don’t want it to be that negative energy drain.
There is a Tibetan Buddhist practice called tonglen. I think it’s been around forever. But I was introduced to it by reading Pema Chodron’s books. Basically, it’s about having compassion for others by taking in their suffering, and, in return, giving them our happiness and success. Through those give-and-take actions, we learn to have compassion for ourselves.
It is altruism at its best. Very hard to do in the uncomfortableness of the moment. It is related to the Six Perfections of giving, ethics, patience, joyous effort, concentration and wisdom (another way of describing Turkey Medicine or, in another religion, turning the other cheek).
I think all forms of spiritual practice offer some version of this concept. I wonder why it is so hard to practice in our day to day lives, at the personal level.
It doesn’t mean we have to be friends with someone. Or have them in our lives, either, to forgive them, or send them positive energy. Not everyone is trustworthy. We can take care of ourselves by setting good boundaries, and still keep good energy moving out in the world by forgiving. Instant karma.
Your practice for the next several weeks, of becoming willing to love a person that makes you uncomfortable rather than hunkering down and pushing away, reminded me of tonglen.
Like the the Dalai Lama says about tonglen, even if it doesn’t help others, it gives us peace of mind. We know we tried.
For those who want to read more, here is a link:
The Practice of Tonglen by Pema Chodron (LINK)
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ybonesy, I really did head all over the world, didn’t I? I do love that about Writing Practice. We never know where it’s going to take us.
I resisted pulling my notebook out for the longest time at Sears yesterday. I opted to read from Natalie’s new book for a while first. It was the first time I had cracked it open. Some of the beginning parts of the book were like coming home – kind of familiar, and back to Writing Down the Bones concepts. It took me a little bit to settle in. Then I got to the chapter on James Baldwin and totally sunk into it. I found the Chaper on Monkey Mind a good refresher, too.
Monkey Mind can be cunning and baffling. And sometimes she tries to convince me that she’s right, I’m wrong, and don’t pay attention to my gut. But as Natalie explains, in the end, if we move past the fear, we befriend her (as sometimes happens with those we perceive to be our enemies). And she beomes our protector.
It felt really good to write in a notebook yesterday. I wrote on the Topic of Mess there as well. But it’s not one I can publish as I went more for the jugular. When the Sears manager walked by and said, “Oh, Miss, your car’s done. Can you meet me up front?”
I said, “Oh, I’m not quite done writing. I’ll meet you up there in a minute.” That’s how engrossed I was in Writing Practice.
I’m glad you kept going past the 15 minutes and rounded off the time. I remember last year I did a lot of 30 minute practices and that felt so freeing. Then I went back to 10 and 15 minutes. But I’m starting to want to do the longer ones again. I think they are going to help me with my book. But it’s the shorter ones that get me to the page.
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“…every single snowflake…falls with the same amount of grace.”
Perfect.
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8) thanks, leslie. They had all melted by this morning. And a thin layer of ice was on the windshield. March is a crazy month here. Winter has a hard time with surrender.
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