Saturday, March 31, 2001
Protectorates - To LTF
Many years ago, when we lived in Sunnyvale, CA, (I was in the first grade), my parents bought a freezer, placed it in our garage and stocked it. We hadn't had it very long before someone broke into our garage and emptied the freezer. My parents' united reaction was, "They must have needed it more than we did." Looking back, I realize that I took that lesson, regardless of it's wisdom (and, I think it's pretty wise, although I also see how others would think it was stupid and, of course, they'd be right, too) to heart. It's not a new behavior for me to "let him have [my] cloak, as well;" (Matthew 5:40, Revised Standard Version). As a young adult, when I was puzzling over the wisdom of giving the thief more that s/he takes, turning the other cheek and loving one's enemies, I realized that the way this advice 'works' is that it changes the power relationship. The thief is no longer a victor and the thieved is no longer a victim. The act is no longer a robbery, it is an acknowledgment of us being one in the same. Furthering another's survival on demand and adding more than is demanded allows one's own attitude to stand down so one can move on. Whether that means that the thief gets more than s/he deserves and the thieved is more vulnerable and, thus, less likely to survive in the classic sense is beside the point. The point of this advice is: If you move with the current, you'll make it downstream. We also have the choice to move against the current. Upstream is a legitimate direction with a whole other set of consequences and is based on the belief that we are not all one in the same, which is also true. I suspect I'm getting close to realizing that 'survival' isn't the ultimate directive. I wonder how I'll figure that out and how I'll explain it.
I am still feeling the need to make sure that whatever my mother's life demands or deserves (as, for example, a fair settlement from the insurance company per their contract with her over damage to her propery property), I honor my pledge to direct the current toward her, to defend her from thieves. Despite the innocent wisdom of hers and my father's long ago stance on theft, she believes that when a dispute arises over what is 'mine' and what is 'yours', one is obligated to defend 'mine'. I am, as well, realizing that in some cases, two so far and, luckily, very minor ones, it is impossible for me to hand over my cloak without also loosening her defenses. This disturbs me. I'm not sure how to 'work' the situation and still strip myself to my skin, although I am continuing to disrobe on a daily basis. I figure, so far, the one thing I can do is let my sisters, who are concerned for her survival, know where I stand on the issue of defense. So, that's what I've done. Those who believe in defense, I think, are the ones in a position to erect sturdy defenses. Defense is a reality, as is offense. It's just that defense is becoming less and less my reality. Not that informing them has yet made a difference. I don't think any of them understands my position enough to even consider it dangerous, especially since, in the most visible areas of my mother's income, outgo and health, I still appear to be clothed. They probably point to those areas instead of the pile of clothes at my feet and simply refuse to believe I'm getting naked.
Perhaps, too, my method is not dangerous. I no longer, for instance, consider Mr. Insurance Adjuster evil for being a fucker, nor is the IRS. They're just fuckers. What I am considering is that "fuck" rhymes with "duck", which I find delightful, rather than ironic. I've always known that delight is my profession, irony is someone else's (even though it is also my profession to taste irony in order to discern the level of delight in it). If I stick with my profession, I sense, I won't need the cloaks or the coats to protect my mother. I have no idea how this will work, nor can I point to any evidence that this is true, nor is it a matter of faith. It has to do with noticing that there are other gold studs glittering in the distance, and setting out toward their location so I can better spot the source of the light they're reflecting. In the meantime, others will notice the light from mine, which I am not in a position to see and in traveling toward me we'll eventually meet and spot the light source. One rule of protection against others of our species, I know, is to extinguish all light in order to prevent revealing one's location. Punching reflective studs into my ears is pretty much the same as disrobing. Now, all I have to do is prepare to replace the gold studs with something at least equally as reflective when my ears are healed and I return the studs.
By the way, I did, indeed, notice, finally, on Thursday, when I was packing files into boxes in Prescott and my mother was napping on the couch like a lioness in the sun, that the corners of her mouth are upturned in sleep. You know, LTF, I think I am falling in love all over again with my mother in a much different way than I did as a newborn infant. Too bad this isn't a common occurrence anymore in this culture. Distance or the overwhelming nature of survival in a rapidly and increasingly complex society disallows many of us the intense loving of a close relative of advanced age. I lucked out, again. How very bizarre.
I am still feeling the need to make sure that whatever my mother's life demands or deserves (as, for example, a fair settlement from the insurance company per their contract with her over damage to her propery property), I honor my pledge to direct the current toward her, to defend her from thieves. Despite the innocent wisdom of hers and my father's long ago stance on theft, she believes that when a dispute arises over what is 'mine' and what is 'yours', one is obligated to defend 'mine'. I am, as well, realizing that in some cases, two so far and, luckily, very minor ones, it is impossible for me to hand over my cloak without also loosening her defenses. This disturbs me. I'm not sure how to 'work' the situation and still strip myself to my skin, although I am continuing to disrobe on a daily basis. I figure, so far, the one thing I can do is let my sisters, who are concerned for her survival, know where I stand on the issue of defense. So, that's what I've done. Those who believe in defense, I think, are the ones in a position to erect sturdy defenses. Defense is a reality, as is offense. It's just that defense is becoming less and less my reality. Not that informing them has yet made a difference. I don't think any of them understands my position enough to even consider it dangerous, especially since, in the most visible areas of my mother's income, outgo and health, I still appear to be clothed. They probably point to those areas instead of the pile of clothes at my feet and simply refuse to believe I'm getting naked.
Perhaps, too, my method is not dangerous. I no longer, for instance, consider Mr. Insurance Adjuster evil for being a fucker, nor is the IRS. They're just fuckers. What I am considering is that "fuck" rhymes with "duck", which I find delightful, rather than ironic. I've always known that delight is my profession, irony is someone else's (even though it is also my profession to taste irony in order to discern the level of delight in it). If I stick with my profession, I sense, I won't need the cloaks or the coats to protect my mother. I have no idea how this will work, nor can I point to any evidence that this is true, nor is it a matter of faith. It has to do with noticing that there are other gold studs glittering in the distance, and setting out toward their location so I can better spot the source of the light they're reflecting. In the meantime, others will notice the light from mine, which I am not in a position to see and in traveling toward me we'll eventually meet and spot the light source. One rule of protection against others of our species, I know, is to extinguish all light in order to prevent revealing one's location. Punching reflective studs into my ears is pretty much the same as disrobing. Now, all I have to do is prepare to replace the gold studs with something at least equally as reflective when my ears are healed and I return the studs.
By the way, I did, indeed, notice, finally, on Thursday, when I was packing files into boxes in Prescott and my mother was napping on the couch like a lioness in the sun, that the corners of her mouth are upturned in sleep. You know, LTF, I think I am falling in love all over again with my mother in a much different way than I did as a newborn infant. Too bad this isn't a common occurrence anymore in this culture. Distance or the overwhelming nature of survival in a rapidly and increasingly complex society disallows many of us the intense loving of a close relative of advanced age. I lucked out, again. How very bizarre.
