Growing Up Tenderly

I’ve met many with a God complex, people speaking as if their personal opinions are unquestionably correct. Maybe that’s anyone with a strong ego. Maybe that’s any parent just trying to keep their children alive. I’m nowhere near being a parent, yet I have struggled with a God complex, too. I’ve done the best I could with the knowledge I have acquired. I’m thankful to step out of the confines of having it all figured out, or the pressure I had so heavily put upon myself to know it all. In reflection, I see now it was an effort to feel safe.

I’m thankful for time because with wisdom I’ve learned the safety is not something that you hold in a chest and lock with a key in order to keep. I’m learning that in the right conditions, safety can, in fact, grow. I’ve come to really value my parents but have also been challenged by their strong personalities. They, too, need room to experience safety.

You know what I’ve gathered about getting old? It’s the result of rigidity, an inability to be flexible. Old people never had a chance to softly grow up, often forced to handle more than they could at a young age, and are therefore much more susceptible to hardness as they got older. Especially when they have a God-complex and are unable to be tender with even themselves. Maybe this trait is so easily recognizable because it’s a history I share, too. Instead of the hard trajectory, I choose to tap into my flexibility, my youth and my softness, even when it feels hard.

When the world has felt hard, especially at home, it’s felt easier to runaway, to escape. It’s taken me a while, and it’s never too late, to learn how to stay. I’m getting through this chapter, but it’s a practice.

I’ve been left behind, I’ve left many times but still, for some odd reason, I’m nurtured. I call it God, some call it Universe, some call it luck and there are many other names! But having a relationship with this kindness has been my saving grace and why I continue to practice choosing a tender life.

Maybe we’re all just carrying the injustices of our ancestors and have some serious but not too serious work to do. Maybe each life is just a luck of the draw. Maybe its a little of both or nothing of either at all. I’ve welcomed the possibility of many truths, but it has become too apparent that it doesn’t work, people entitled to their truth. There is something wrong with that approach. Is there a way out of the mass isolation of broken people all over the globe, the mass annihilation of innocence (forcing kids to grow up too soon) and the man displacing of people (even in our very human beating hearts)? I know I’m not the only person who has wanted to eradicate someone from my life. Is there a healthier way?

One of my favorite places to visit on my island home is Pali Lookout. Maybe because I have fond memories of winds so strong my brother and I felt like we had to hold each other so we wouldn’t fly away. Things are much different now, what remains is the solidity beneath my feet, the vantage point I get to perch from, the expanse I trace with my mind’s eye.

Even though this space is tied to a history of domination and bloodshed, I look out at at the Windward coast and the shores are still twinkling, the Ko’olaus are still in massive tact and, phew, am I still here or am I still here. What do I do with this rich history, with this whole body, and with these eyes that still hold their sparkle? I stroll back to my car down the same path warriors once stomped, ran ahead and even fell to their knees. The winds move about as I stir within.

I am safe, I surrender, even here. I don’t have to fear my bearings being swept out from under my firm yet tender body. Instead I get to feel the winds flap my clothes against my subtle skin. How do I remain soft in a climate that at times can feel so hard? Rather than run away, how do I stay?

It is a lot easier to turn our heads from the putrid, but I wonder what happens when we actually do something about it. Rather than be a kid who says, “ew!” and turns their head, what does it look like to be an adult who faces what’s disgusting and do something about it? When I feel unsafe, unloved or full of worry, I no longer turn away towards what’s only pleasing to the eye. I know that if I keep turning away, what I turn from will end up hurting someone else. Makes me think about meeting older folks who say they’ll leave things for the next generation to handle. I choose not to be like those older folks. Rather than tuck feelings away for someone else to handle, I choose to serve them, let’s eat! Is this being an adult? Having a refined palette?

It is the Earth that takes what’s rotting, turns it into dust, and brings new life. I choose to trust her to do her work and embrace what work is mine. We have a mother who allows us to have our many different truths and nurtures us anyway. I will practice extending the same courtesy to my brothers and sisters. I release the fear of having it all figured out and embrace my work as a daughter, never limited by age or ends. I choose to trust and will accept people even with different truths from me, just as she has done for me. I believe in a truth. But instead of having a God complex and trying to convince others to love her, what happens when I radically believe in her?

Does the shade of a tree provide reprieve from a midday heat? Does fruit provide nourishment? Does wood provide fire? I’m learning how to preserve the Earth’s relief, sustenance and currency, too. I believe enough to care. I care enough to believe. What about you?

I use this time, these words and this space to illuminate. This is my humble offering. I write because I believe that with enough of us trying we can help. I believe that when we practice responsible stewardship, each of our unique forms of joy and creative action can lend it’s footprint on our planet for the better. Does the more I practice trusting the Earth (caring about her, learning about her, receiving from her, writing about her, falling over and over in love with her) reflect the love I get to share? In other words does loving the Earth increase love for the Earth? Let’s see.