The Earth Quakes Again

Alert: I go a little quote and cliché crazy today.

Still digging out from a 7.0, we get hit with an 8.8. We didn’t expect it, but knew very well it could strike at any time. We didn’t plan on it, so are taken unawares. We didn’t think it could happen, not to us, but it does …

Despite centuries of evidence to the contrary, we remain convinced that once we just manage to get a handle on things, achieve some sense of balance and “normalcy”, set those goals, eliminate the negative, acquire what we thought we wanted – the degree! the diamond! the deal! the divorce! - all will be well, we’ll live happily ever after.

Silly humans. We never learn …

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”* So sang John Lennon. (And look what happened to him.)

Just when things are looking up, appear to finally be on track - we’ve landed the job, married the guy, had the baby, sold the house, fulfilled the wish! realized the dream! --BAM—the earth quakes and upsets our fragile (and apparently false) sense of security. Any number of quakes, be they expected and unforeseen, great and small, serendipitous or tragic, have the ability to dramatically shake up our lives and our direction, even our faith. Some appear out of the blue, some sneak up on us, some we see coming from miles away but turn a blind eye: loss of a job, slow financial decline, accidents and illness, winning the lottery, natural disaster, finding love, birth of a child. As Roseanna Roseannadanna, brilliantly portrayed by the very funny Gilda Radner, wisely proclaimed in early episodes of SNL: “It’s always something. If it’s not one thing it’s another …” (Prescient: she died of ovarian cancer at 42.)

Recently, an unanticipated wrench was thrown into the machinery of my so-called life, and my own best-laid plans went awry. To wit: I spent a goodly portion of 2009 assisting my mother sort through 35+ years of life. This entailed packing up and moving much of it from the enormous house she shared with her husband (now deceased) and five children into a 3-bedroom condo, distributing some of it to family members, donating some of it to charity, throwing some of it out, and selling the rest (which, incidentally, entailed learning a whole new skill set). A daunting project. Once my mother had settled into her new place, and we’d finally found a buyer for the old house, I began looking forward to 2010 and refocusing my energies back on my career, my life, my plans, myself …

… Until we learned last month that my mother, cancer free for nearly 40 years, found a lump in her remaining breast. Malignant, according to the needle biopsy. It must be surgically removed sooner rather than later, followed by some sort of post-op treatment, probably a form of radiation. Apparently bad but hopefully not deadly, though we won’t know the extent until they test a sample during surgery …

Harrowing. An unanticipated, frightening surprise. A matter of life and death. One of those earthquake moments where time, space, existence seems to crack apart before collapsing into a very small but focused frame, everything else a blur. A private and personal Big Bang of sorts.

“It’s always something. If it’s not one thing it’s another …”

My mother’s near future will be filled with tests, MRI’s, doctor visits, pre- and post-op decisions, surgery, radiation, recuperation, reconstruction … which truly sucks. Obviously, the unexpected turn of events will affect me as well; as “the single daughter with no children and no real job”, I will be expected (and I feel it my responsibility) to abandon my best-laid plans and attend to the crisis at hand. Shift gears, sacrifice for a greater good. Avail myself in a time of need. Won’t I?

You’re probably thinking, “What a selfish, unfeeling little twit. Of course you will! She’s your mother!” That’s exactly how I felt. After the initial shock and dread and concern upon hearing my mom’s diagnosis and the frightening ordeal she faced, I admit that I also became concerned with how this turn of events would impact me. How I as designated daughter would no doubt have to put my plans, my life on hold until we weathered this storm. We were both being bandied about by the whims of the gods/fate. The best-laid plans going astray once again. And I was not happy about it.

I’m now beginning to see that I may in fact have been using my mother’s unfortunate diagnosis and my feelings of responsibility and obligation as a reason, an excuse, a justification, a rationalization for not moving forward with my big, scary, hairy plans for 2010. How convenient: In the midst of reconfiguring my future, with serious career and other challenges before me, I had been handed this legitimate-sounding excuse to further postpone my plans and put my life on hold. In reality, to hide.

How often do we use just such an event or, on-going issue(s), to avoid taking chances? Too often. To the world, we look like a martyr, a hero, a self-sacrificing saint, willing to put the needs of others before our own. How noble, how admirable. But upon closer inspection, we may realize that frequently these sacrifices serve to cloak our own fear of living authentically, living our passion and purpose, while giving us a virtuous reason to beg out. We allow them to veer us from our heart’s desire, probably from the fear that it will not crystallize for us, or from fear that it will! So we sabotage the dream.** And later in life we may regret, or resent, the choices we’ve made and people/things we sacrificed for …

So what’s to be done? When faced with compelling choices, unforeseen events, dreams derailed, best-laid plans not coming to fruition? Pick one and abandon the other? Put your plans on hold? Throw in the towel completely?

I’ve been experimenting with a less-western, more Zen-like approach. Less “either/or” and “no, but”; more “this and that” and “yes, and”. Which I’ll tell you more about next time ... because despite the prevailing paradigm, according to both the ancient sages and modern scientists, your experience of life is determined not by your external situation, but your internal state of mind …

… In other words, it’s all you.

*from Beautiful Boy by John Lennon, a song about the birth of his son Sean

**We have an array of sabotaging mechanisms, many reflexive and habitual, some seemingly positive, which we unconsciously use to derail our dream life ...

© 2010 Theresa Quadrozzi - A Muse In Manhattan