Have you ever read a book to your kids (or yourself) called Zen Shorts? It’s, uh, a Buddhist picture book, for lack of a better explanation. It’s amazing and beautiful and will probably make you cry unless you’re a robot, and even if you are a robot you’ll cry, but it will be oil and then you’ll slip and fall. Where was I going with this?
Oh. Yes. Zen Shorts. In the book, there are little stories that teach ways to be zen. You know, be cool. Be at peace. That kind of hippie dippie thing.
There’s one story that I thought was kind of stupid (what? I’m allowed my opinions), but now it’s my favorite. It’s called, “The Farmer’s Luck,” and it’s about a little farmer who has a horse run away. His neighbors say, “Oh no! What bad luck!” and the farmer says, “Maybe.” The next day, the horse returns with a bunch of wild horses, and they neighbors proclaim the farmer’s good luck. The farmer replies again, “Maybe.” The farmer’s son rides one of the wild horses and gets bucked off, breaking his leg. The neighbors proclaim the bad luck, the farmer refuses to commit. The army comes to town to draft young sons, and seeing the farmer’s son with a broken leg, they skip over him. Et cetera.
I used to roll my eyes at it because things aren’t that clear in real life. Are they? I used to think I was super unlucky because I was so ugly and disgusting that no boy wanted to date me. I told my entire family I was never getting married because the institution of marriage was archaic and backwards and anti-feminist. I was nineteen, so of course I used a cerebral excuse to hide my insecurities, instead of saying, “I’m never getting married because no one will have me.”
And then I started to realize that the girls who dated a lot thought they were super ugly and disgusting and used boys to make themselves feel better. Huh. I thought they were the lucky ones, and I was the unlucky one. Then I met Gregg.
I used to think God hated me because I was sexually abused when I was so young. Why would anyone have that happen if there wasn’t some kind of cosmic vendetta against my soul? Maybe I was Genghis Khan in a past life and I was being given my punishment in this one. Many, many, many years later, I saw how strong it made me. If I could handle that when I was five, then this will be easy. This is nothing.
It’s not quite bad luck and good luck, but in some ways, being hurt was a gift that helped me grow and see the world differently. I know that everyone is going through something painful. Everyone. It’s not an excuse, but it helps. It rounds someone’s hard edges.
I’m a better person because of all the badness that I held inside. I have so much more compassion and consideration to call upon. Maybe that person cut me off because they’re worried about being late to pick up their kid, who is having a freak-out right now on the steps of her elementary school. Don’t hold anything in anger toward the driver.
I used to have a terrible temper. I was so angry at the world. I was angry at everything and everyone. All through high school, all through college, and even in those newborn years of my children’s lives, I was so, so angry. I yelled too much. I hurt people too much. And I thought, “God, please just take it away from me,” but it wasn’t taken away. It was softened, but it still peeks out once in a while during a frustrating moment, and it gives me a moment to say sorry. It helps me be humble, to be totally imperfect.
I hate that I can’t get pregnant easily. I’m on miscarriage number four at this point, and I’m almost ready to give up. I’m not sure. I’m not at the point where I see this bad luck as good luck, but I know there’s something in this, too.
I’m sometimes angry that it’s so difficult to break into writing. I’ve been trying to get an agent, be a published novelist, on and off for years. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and understand why I’m not there yet, but I used to get so frustrated with God. I’d make threats. “If this book doesn’t get published, that’s IT. I’m DONE. FOREVER.” I couldn’t see any of the bad luck as good luck.
I just realized, this very moment while I was writing this post though: if I hadn’t been struggling last year, cursing my bad luck, I never would have started this blog. I’d have about a quarter as many friends. I’d be so much less courageous and open. I would be less me. This blog has given me a home to show me that all those horrible traits I hide away are things that other people might love about me, or at least things I can laugh at myself about. It’s given me not only friendships, but perspective, and understanding, and hope. So, yes, it would be nice to have been a published, successful novelist at the age of 23 because of the grand plans I had laid out in my head. But if it weren’t for that bad luck, I wouldn’t have this good luck on the other side of the computer monitor. I think, maybe, God might know what she’s doing after all.
Oh. My. Gosh. This is just amazing. I read it through once and as soon as I post this comment, I will read it through several times more. Good for you for getting where you are. Good for you for surviving what you have survived. Good for you for writing this post. Good, good, good. God.
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful post. And so true too. That’s how I look at my childhood abuse and the people that used to make fun of me and even marrying my ex husband (he’s not an evil guy, just not the right guy for me). If all those “bad” things hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have had room for the good stuff.
Well, I am relatively new to being your friend, but I have to say that it’s a good way to live. Sort of straight down the middle. Good things have downsides, bad things have upswings.
I have a temper too and the times when I’m able to control it are the times when I can stop for a second and think about whether what I’m getting mad about MATTERS.
A very lovely and serene post.
Such a wonderful open and honest and wise post.
So very sorry about the miscarriage.
Sending hugs your way.
I love this. LOVE. There is a lesson for me here, and I hope it is sinking in. Thank you for posting this, thank you. I so admire your grace and grit.
That’s beautiful! I have that book too and I love it, there is also a Halloween one. Good storytelling and gorgeous paintings. I agree, in life usually everything happens for a reason, although when you are in the depths of despair about something, it’s hard to remember that. I’ve been through miscarriages too and they suck. Always. All I can think now though, is that without them I wouldn’t have the beautiful children that I have now. I would have other children and that would be weird. (Have you tried asking your midwife/doc about taking aspirin? It helps with blood clotting disorders which was the cause of my early miscarriages.) No matter what happens, if we have a goal or a dream, we just have to keep trying until we are happy. It may take way longer than we think, but we just have to keep at it. Best of luck with the book and the baby. xo
Yes, THIS POST. Me too.
I’m sorry for all the hurt you’ve had to endure, but you’re absolutely right – the hurt makes us who we are. If life was easy and went as I’d planned, I’d be different, too – and I wouldn’t want that. I’d also be a published author, but I’d be worse off for it.
Maybe in my thirties???
Thank you for saying this.
I am very sorry about your miscarriage. It is hard to see it as good luck, because it feels like horrible rotten luck. On the other hand, a friend of mine who had multiple miscarriages now marvels over her son, saying “If I hadn’t had the miscarriages, I wouldn’t have him.” So I know she sees it…well, not as good luck, exactly, but as necessary steps on an ultimately happy path.
So true. All of this. I greatly admire your strength.
I’m so sorry about your miscarriages. I had three and yet they were, as Swistle put it so well, “necessary steps on an ultimately happy path.” (I am blessed with three beautiful, healthy sons.) Hold fast to the hope of better days. xo
This is good. This is good stuff. I forget to think about both sides of the coin a lot, I forget to be grateful for both sides, present in both. That makes my edges hard, and it makes me see everyone else’s that way too. This helped me, today, to be softer. I’m sorry for your trouble lately. I know you’ll see the bright side of it all, in the end.
You are emotionally intelligent for sure. I’m sorry that it was such a hard-won prize, but you are certainly making the best of the hand you’ve been dealt.
Do your doctors feel like they can explain anything about why you have such difficulty staying pregnant? FWIW I think that is a much more difficult form of infertility than issues surrounding difficulty with becoming pregnant.
Beautiful! Gorgeous! It’s funny how accepting our past and letting go is how we grow up and find peace with ourselves. Reading your blog always leaves me inspired.
Ezra’s bedroom walls are decorated with framed book covers and “Zen Shorts” is one of the ones hanging up. I love its message so much.
There are some things in life where I can fully appreciate what I’ve been taught as a result of a perhaps less-than-savory experience and yet there are some others that really stick in my craw. I am able to acknowledge there is a lesson and gift from God wrapped around it, but I’m not yet ready to open and explore such a lesson. Not yet. Still too soon.
This blog has given me a home to show me that all those horrible traits I hide away are things that other people might love about me, or at least things I can laugh at myself about.
Yes.
I will look for that book. Being able to bring perspective in the moment is difficult. I hope soon the miscarriages can also be seen as part of something greater.
I’m so sorry about your miscarriage.
This is beautiful, and perfect timing for me. Thank you for writing this.
Love this post. I’m trying to be more Zen myself… which is funny, because I think I’m the exact opposite of Zen (by personality type). It’s amazing how the things we go through can either compel us forward or drive us down. How easy it would be to go either way, and it’s really only attitude…
I’ve come back and read this post a few times since you wrote it. I need the reminder, the good comes from bad, on a regular basis- especially lately. Thank you for sharing, and while you may be able to look for the good, I’m sorry it comes at the cost of the bad.
I love this post. And….I think I need to get that book!
This post resonates with me at so many levels, makes me feel so much at peace, makes me feel wise suddenly. I wish your life journey takes you to awesome places that make you feel at peace, and like there was a method in madness.. In fact, I wish that for every single person on earth (feeling benevolent and wise
)
I would love to know more about how you conquered your temper… I am struggling with mine, and it is affecting my relationships…
I am thinking of many different threads to go with this post, maybe I will write a blog about it and share the link with you.
Lovely blog you have here… You just earned a new admirer.. : )