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Monday, December 19, 2011
Living Statues
For a while now, I've been thinking about what happens as people reach points in their lives, namely, the point at which we solidify.
I don't mean that wonderful point in our 30's where we get this sense of who we are and want to be; no, I mean the points where people harden their habits and patterns into curious choices or deep-grooved beliefs.
I have watched my 82 year old mom go from this person to whom I had long conversations and deep talks ...to a person who has narrowed her world, confined herself into a little box, and the sense of sharing has all but dried up. Oddly enough, she reads a lot now, 3 books a week, which should broaden her world. But it's had the opposite effect. She always told me she didn't read cuz reading puts her to sleep. Then her favorite waitress got her to read Twilight, and ever since, she's read 3 romance novels a week. We stopped counting at 120.
Nothing wrong with that. I love that it opens up my mom's mind, but her days are closed to the outside. There have been a couple strange choices and instances with her, and she's simply become a different person. And it has nothing to do with senility or dementia. It's her choice. But...it feels like I've lost my mom. It's been going on about 2 years now, so I'm beyond the grieving process for what is lost, and I just embrace who she is and support what makes her happy. But I can't help but think that the mom I knew is no longer inside there.
It's not about age. A close friend of mine has changed dramatically over the last 7 years, choosing affectations and an odd projected bitterness, a strange balance of intelligent disappoval. I find it very hard to relate anymore, even tho I love my friend. I hear what is said, and it doesn't sound like my friend anymore. Life has hardened my friend, and my friend has chosen beliefs and behaviors that are comfortable for them. And I don't begrudge any of that to my friend that I care about. But I can't be honest with them, so I stand back and I watch this friend close themselves off.
It's a bit scary to me. I find myself thinking...
is this automatically what happens as people grow older -or- get tired of the juggling act with friends, family, society and all the rules and social expectations?
Is this the way people screen out the things they are just too tired to deal with anymore?
It's an artificially constructed, contained life - a force field protecting them against disapppoints, hard knocks, impossible expectations and the ever-changing-never-stopping world around them.
I think people just get tired of letting change into their interior life. Who can blame anyone, especially my mom who has survived 3 husbands, the loss of 2 children and old-age?
Obviously, that situation is the extreme and understandable, thus my embracing my mom's choice. But what amazes me is how vital people in their 30's and 40's solidify defensively.
I've learned some hard facts. Life may hand us the raw stone, but we are the sculptors. And I no longer let anyone try to convince me otherwise.
Another friend insists they are trying and that the world is limited. For so long I believed them until recently. I got a sneak peak through the cracks of their protected windows recently, and suddenly I understood it all. I have stopped worrying about that friend.
(photo taken last year at Versailles)
And then there's myself... believing for so long about the world of publishing avoiding gay subjects and characters like the plague... meanwhile, time marched on, and left me and my response to this back at the starting gate. Now I'm catching up. Tearing down that construct. I don't want to be a Living Statue.
So I don't feel the need to judge anyone for their choices. It's about comfort. It's about a feeling of safety in our little worlds. I want this, and if you're someone I care about, I want this for you. I just may not be able to participate in your creation.
This quote has always been near and dear to me, because it taught me that I set not only good boundaries, but also limitations.
I see people making choices and needing to believe that these choices are necessarily and defendable.
I get it. I know why people solidify and fortify. And I support anyone's right and entitlement to create a life that makes them comfortable against all that is hurled at them. I just may not be able to participate in everyone's Living Statue.
(real statue, one of my faves; I took this photo in The Louvre, Paris)
I think what's scary to me too, is that I see how easily it can happen. If I were to lose B, I can only image the lengths I could go to in order to keep my life glued together in some semblance of hope and sanity. But again, that's the extreme isn't it. And this post really isn't about the extremes. It's about the choices we make.
(I love this statue at L'Opera Paris, taken last year)
I can only hope that if I ever become a Living Statue, it's an outrageously fun one, or one that has some grace and joy and levity. My friend Wendy and I made a promise to each other that we would always be honest with each other, and if either of us ever starts solidifying, the other will sound the alarm. I can't think of a better gift from a dear friend.
~Shephard :)
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