Ann McMaster - Life as It Is

The Spiritual Case for Eliminating Should from our Vocabulary, Part 2

Events that Shouldn't Have Happened

My sister shouldn't have died of von Recklinghausen's Disease. She was almost 24 years old. Her name was Susie, Mary Susan. My demand that she should have had a full life kept me stuck back in May, 1970, as I watched her being wheeled through our foyer in a body bag. I had no preparation for such an experience. It was not something I had even imagined could happen, not in my family. While my life was happening the next day and the day after that, there was a part of me that hung back - despairing and impotent that I couldn't un-happen her death. Plainly, it shouldn't have happened, not in My Book - the gospel according to Ann Mc.

In retrospect, it's easy for me to see that hanging onto my insistence that Susie should not have died was in direct conflict with Real Reality. I was so intent on my version of how it should have been that I blocked memories. My block was so effective that, in a group therapy situation, when asked if I ever knew of anyone who had died, I said, "No." My mother was in the same group and started wailing. When she started wailing, I collapsed into a wash of dammed up tears. Those were my first tears for losing Susie - 8 years after her death.

Not wanting to admit that Susie died, all the time knowing that she did, was spiritually arrogant. In effect, being unwilling to live in the world of Reality, and instead, pretending that my version of the world was much better than the Real One. Like I said, spiritually arrogant ... I'm a better God than the Real God. *I* know how It Should Be. If *I* were in charge, the world would be a better place - kinder, harmonious.

Except that, even though I have endlessly run for the office of Head of the Universe, I have yet to be  elected. And things keep happening that I think 'shouldn't' happen. And I have freedom - I can choose to rail impotently about How It All Should Be (which changes absolutely nothing, but can perfect itself into a life-long victim drama), or I can bring the best of me to all things that happen and live in Faith - faith in myself and in my ability to deal with each moment, whatever it brings.

I don't get to decide what happens, I only get to decide how I engage with what happens. That's my power.

The Spiritual Case for Eliminating Should from our Vocabulary, Part 1

"Should" (and all its cousins, "ought, must, need, have to") is a way to self-incarcerate.  The "should edict" takes away my trust in my heart's integrity and my freedom to choose my way forward in each moment. And instead, it limits my choice to one - how I should be or what I should do. Should = Right.

Every day instances: I should answer the phone when it rings. I should clear all email messages every day. I should eat properly and exercise daily. I should be nice to everyone all the time. I should set proper boundaries. I should never wear ratty underwear (in case of an accident; heaven forbid someone should see it). I should tell the truth (unless it would hurt someone's feelings; in that case, I should definitely NOT tell the truth). And on it goes.

 There is only one proper way to be, to behave, to feel, to think, to believe; and thousands of ways I shouldn't be, behave, feel, think, believe ... according to the 'shoulds' of life. And how does someone else know how I should be?  Am I made in God's image?  Or in their image? Every culture has their own list, which, in some cases is vastly different from other cultures. So which one is the Right Should? And how do I Know it's the Right Should? Who Does Know?

Lots of people claim to know. But is their way going to be what frees me to my fullest potential? I don't know. They don't either ... not really. Just because it works for them, doesn't mean it will fulfill me. I once asked a friend of mine, whose precepts limit the role women play in the world, how I would fit in his world. His reply was, "There is no place for you in our community." It works for them. 

If I WANT to answer the phone when it rings, I can (or not), depending on the situation. Some days, I Want to wear ratty underwear - I'm just in the mood for it, and I'm willing to take my chances. If I WANT to be or do something, I can, or not. I'm free. Free to choose at that moment.

Bottom line: I can give up my freedom by caving in to the tyranny of 'shoulds,' capitulating responsibility for living the life God gave ME to live. I can rebel and live out the opposite of the 'shoulds' (which is every bit as imprisoning as caving in). Or I will live in Faith, responding to each moment as if it were a gift to which I can bring the best of me ... and take my chances on the outcome; which, in effect, is how it really is anyway.

PS If I apply all my personal "shoulds" to others, then I am attempting to incarcerate them. And if they don't comply with my version of how they should be, then I get to be resentful and punitive - instead of curious about who they are and what part they will play in our world, and how we each affect the other's journey.

Shoulds and Wants

Justin Cloete and his wife Michelle recently became the proud parents of Ruby Isabella, a tiny little heart-stealer. In the short time since Ruby's debut, Justin has already run into a long list of "Should's" - normal for new parents - OK, normal for Everybody at any time. He knew that "should" was a demand about how he 'should' be, about Ruby (and how she 'should' be) and about how it All Should Be. He knew better than to go down that rabbit trail. And his mind still captured him, while he bound himself tighter and tighter. Underneath it all, he just wanted to be the best dad possible for Ruby.

In the process of unwinding his 'shoulds,' he filled himself out again - unfettering his genuine love and his boundless faith in himself, in Ruby and Michelle and in how It All Really IS.

It reminded me of the time Rebecca (5 years old) came stumbling into my room at 3am asking if she could throw up in my bathroom. (She had her own bathroom.) I said, "Sure, of course." And in my head, I could hear the ancient list, "If you want to be a good mother, you should be holding her head, you need to wipe her brow, you must BE THERE for her." And there were more admonitions (have to, should, must, ought, and all their negative corollaries - shouldn't, etc.), there always are. I could feel the dread and the heavy reluctance in my body as I forced myself to roll out of bed.

Then I stopped. Wait! I WANT to be there for her. I WANT to hold her head. I WANT to be a good mother. I don't HAVE to be a good mother. I AM a good mother, and I WANT to be there for her. The switch that took place in me was outwardly minimal, inwardly 180-degrees. My heart was engaged, my compassion was flowing.

I am sure she would have felt the difference, even if my behavior had been exactly the same - the  different intentions underlying the same behavior would have leaked. They cannot NOT leak.

So as an old friend of mine once said, "Maybe it's time to stop "should'ing" on ourselves!"  What do you think?

Children and Villages

Antony Sharman wrote the following as a comment on my previous blog posting:

Children make us live our life over - and over again. It is a remarkable parent who is recharged by their child and who can see the difference between their own angst and the life-force of their offspring.

Antony languaged something for me that I had never put in words - I love when somebody does that. And his comment sparked further thoughts for me.

First, thank you for the acknowledgment. And I agree that children require us to re-examine our own lives over and over. It mattered to me to be accountable as a parent, as a guardian and empowerer of this new life-force, Rebecca. I held it that I was entrusted with her spirit.

On the one hand, she was an 'easy' child to raise - the package she came in is intelligent, no learning disabilities, no anger management issues, physically adept (she was voted Most Outstanding Female Athlete in both Jr. High and Sr. High), and socially adept as well.  On top of all that, she is also beautiful. So it wasn't like the job was a difficult one ... for which I am eternally grateful.

On the other hand, I had Sue Oldham as my support person. Sue is also a Senior Trainer with the More To Life program, and her children were older than Rebecca, by 6 years and more. She was also a high school counselor before she was a trainer with MTLP.  And I like the way she is with her children. When I got cross-wise with Rebecca and couldn't get myself back into right-relationship with her (remembering who she Really IS and who I AM with her), I would call Sue and start my rant about the difficulty Rebecca was "giving me." Sue would soon have me back in my humble self, having cleaned up my own projections - usually with some tears and snot as part of that process. Then I would go and make it right with Rebecca.

During one of those times, after I made my amends, I told Rebecca, "I just don't know what I would do without Sue O in my life." And 10-year-old Rebecca responded in her compassionate and cheeky way, "And I don't know what *I* would do without Sue O in your life!"

And so it goes. I am grateful to my parents, who loved Rebecca madly - to my sister, Patsy, who was the kind of aunt everyone wishes they had - to Katy Summerland, who was a spiritual aunt and delighted in their gal-pal-overnights - and to Jane Sloan, uber-nanny, and to whom I entrusted Rebecca when I traveled.

There is an African proverb that says, "It takes a village to raise a child." It certainly helps!

A Tribute to my Biggest Life Change

35 years ago today, my life changed dramatically. I thought I knew what I was getting into; after all, I was the eldest of eight children. It's not like I didn't know the drill. Had I really known, I would have been even more grateful than I was at the time. Yes, as of today, my daughter Rebecca has graced my life for the last 3-1/2 decades.

So to you, Rebecca, I raise the chalice of gratitude for teaching me the power of unconditional love - I hadn't known I was that clueless; but watching you breathing, so tiny and fragile, my chest ached with fullness. I was both intimidated by the fierceness of my love and humbled by the miracle of your being. I didn't know I could love that way. I didn't know anyone could.

Thank you for teaching me about serenity - your innate sense of knowing who you are and who you are not. Part of your serenity has been honed by your patient waiting for me to wake up - to get that every one of our power struggles was initiated by me. That lesson wasn't an easy one for me, but I did get it.

If you were not my daughter, I would seek you out and want to be your friend. I trust your integrity, I feel healed by your genuinely kind heart, I am lifted by your lightness and especially delighted by your cocky sense of humor. I treasure your honesty, admire your steady pursuit of your goals, appreciate your awareness of the most subtle shifts in people .... I consider myself to be the most blessed of mothers to have you so integrated into my life. And further blessed by those you bring into my life - especially Troy, Hayleigh and Chase, as well as the friends you have garnered along the way. They are easy to love.

I am proud of the woman you have become - and proud of the journey you made to be who you are today. I was always a bit afraid that I could never love another child as much as I love you.

PS Rebecca is the one on the right, with her college friend, Julie Hale - this pic taken a few weeks ago.