“Hostility begins to exist when we think we can choose by whom we shall be nourished. If the web of humanity is in any sense one, then we must choose to be nourished by those of whom we most wholly dislike or disapprove.” Charles Williams
What do you do when you find yourself in a situation where you think you have no choice?
You choose anyway.
It may not be your first choice. It may not be the choice you had in mind. It may not even be a pretty or pleasant choice, but you still choose.
Choose love. Choose grief. Choose anger. Choose joy.
How, I wonder, am I nourished by those of whom I most wholly dislike or disapprove? What I notice, especially when I travel, which I am doing right now, is that many of my preferred choices disappear. For example, my suitcase did not show up when I did, here in Nova Scotia. In fact, it didn’t show up until 2 days later. Not my choice, for sure! The gal at the counter in the airport was very pleasant and business-like about the whole thing. Not lost, just delayed, the bag. Ok. Delayed sounded better, but didn’t change the fact that I had to head out to the country without so much as a toothbrush (silly me, for forgetting to pack a toothbrush in the bags I brought on the plane!). What I longed for most was a pair of pajamas. I really wanted to take off the clothes that I had, at that point, been wearing for over 15 hours. But it was dark and I did not want to venture out once I had gotten to my overnight accommodations.
I chose the couch. Comfy, encompassing and uncomplaining. I chose the rhubarb eau de vie, made in Nova Scotia, that I found in the cupboard and contented myself with curling up reading the rest of the mystery novel I had purchased for the trip. Lovely. Dirty teeth and all. Lovely. Different. A little bit sticky. But, a little challenge fueled up my sense of adventure, reminded me that I am here in my life to have a life, not a convenience.
And then, the next day, I headed out to the country. Just to see, smell and hear the ocean is always an enormous gift for me. I walked by the ocean in the same clothes I had been wearing for a day and a half by then, just reveling in the gray expanse. Then, I woke up the next morning to the election results and a nation in turmoil, in grief, anger, confusion and for some, joy.
A choiceless choice.
What kind of choice could I make now? Connecting with others in that moment was a great choice. I felt their pain, shared my own and generally enjoyed knowing that I knew so many wonderful people in the world. Choosing love over anger. Wow, did that feel different. An opening, a warmth in my chest instead of a hard pain, a tightness. I know that tightness so well. For me, the tightness says I’m afraid, I’m alone, I’m not going to get what I need. All stories that have at one time been true.
Now, what is true is that I don’t need those stories to be here in this moment. I don’t want those stories. I know how they feel. Now, what is true is that I may not get what I want or even what I need, but I retain my power to choose. How I feel is sad and happy at the same time. How I feel is so very sad that our nation has chosen this path and so very happy that I am able to connect with friends, with people I care about, even though I am many thousands of miles away right now.
Strange, this connecting via Facebook, via email and text. Strange to feel humanness through these devices, these ethereal mediums that dominate our world. Strange and yet, so very helpful in this moment. So very nourishing. The most powerful, the most potent nourishment for me in moments of choiceless choice is always the poetry of people in their deep heart of sadness, wherein lies the laughing seed of joy.
What, my friends, nourishes you?
Please share. Your sharing will be the nourishment we all need!
For more on change and the power of choice, please consider joining me in an introduction to mentoring day where we will explore choices for health and well-being alongside the reality of change and impermanence. A new adventure happening around the country beginning in December 2016…
P.S. I would share these sweet and tart lovelies if I could!
