Anne Lamott

Years ago my sister, my mom, and my friend Katy all told me I should read Anne Lamott, because I would love her. Well, I tried Bird by Bird and didn't like and and, because everybody told me to read it- I bailed. Like any good 'rebellious' teenager would.
     Well I stand majorly corrected and put in my place by what she had to say about this week and fear. There has been so much pain and confusion and hurt this week and I just have had no idea what to do with it. I was sitting in class today so frustrated by peoples political response to whats going on, kind of sobbing (as subtly as possible) and wondering what they could be thinking. People died this week, Children of God, died. And that does not mean that its the time to talk about peoples right to bare arms, talk about hurting for those who are hurting, mourning with our families. And then, here I am criticizing people for their opinions when I just have absolutely no right to. I am full of sin, just like everybody else.
    Anyways, back to Anne Lamott. So- I stumbled upon this post via my friend Chelsea's facebook and there I was, reading everything I was feeling put into eloquent sensible words. Astounded that somebody else was feeling the way I was. I understand why so many people suggested her to me. So I'm going to post what she wrote in an effort to explain my heart right now:

"Frederick Buechner wrote, "Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid."

But it is hard not to be afraid, isn't it? Some wisdom traditions say that you can't have love and fear at the same time, but I beg to differ. You can be a passionate believer in God, in Goodness, in Divine Mind, and the immortality of the soul, and still be afraid. I'm Exhibit A. 

The temptation is to say, as cute little Christians sometimes do, Oh, it will all make sense someday. Great blessings will arise from the tragedy, seeds of new life sown. And I absolutely believe those things, but if it minimizes the terror, it's bullshit.

My understanding is that we have to admit the nightmare, and not pretend that it wasn't heinous and agonizing; not pretend it as something more esoteric. Certain spiritual traditions could say about Hiroshima, Oh, it's the whole world passing away.

Well, I don't know.

I wish I could do what spiritual teachers teach, and get my thoughts into alignment with purer thoughts, so I could see peace and perfection in Hiroshima, in Newton, in Boston. Next time around, I hope to be a cloistered Buddhist. This time, though, I'm just a regular screwed up sad worried faithful human being. 

There is amazing love and grace in people's response to the killings. It's like white blood cells pouring in to surround and heal the infection. It just breaks your heart every time, in the good way, where Hope tiptoes in to peer around. For the time being, I am not going to pretend to be spiritually more evolved than I am. I'm keeping things very simple: right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe; telling my stories, and reading yours. I keep thinking about Barry Lopez's wonderful line, "Everyone is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together; stories and compassion."

That rings one of the few bells I am hearing right now, and it is a beautiful crystalline sound. I'm so in."

Thank you, Anne, for writing what I couldn't say.