Reflections on diving in: JUMP

Mary Oliver
"Listen, are you breathing just a little,
and calling it a life?…
For how long will you continue to listen to those dark shouters,
caution and prudence?
Fall in! Fall in!"

You know, sometimes I think I am brave…like when I read this poem. After heeding those instinctual "Fall in!" feelings, I think: YOU ARE BRAVE. But then I realize that sometimes biting your tongue and doing the hard thing isn’t enough....Like the first time you jump off the high dive at the public swimming pool. Tiny, wet, raisin toes climbing up the all-too-slick ladder. The only comfort in that moment lies in the fact that the lifeguard (even if it is your 14-year-old neighbor) sits on his authoritative perch a couple of hundred feet away. After looking around at the smiling sister and the proud parent, you see the boy below. Half his normal size because...whoa, you are high up. "Okay. I can do this." You walk, slip those goggles down—they are your only armor—and jump. FALL IN. Hitting the water actually didn't hurt as bad as you thought it might. You tell yourself (as you finally reach the water’s surface): YOU ARE BRAVE. You walk out of that chlorine void with a little more bounce in your step, with your chin raised a little. You look up at the silver mountain you climbed…the Goliath. YES.

After a matter of minutes, days, weeks, or even years you realize: it wasn't that high. In all actuality, the fear you felt ended up dissolving by conquering the giant. Good. Great. The lessons of life from Eleanor Roosevelt, "I gain confidence…" But, what happens when you look back and the fear is gone because you have conquered it. You have FALLEN. But, somehow you feel broken. Immobilized. You THOUGHT you were brave. In fact, as you whisked through the air on your way down, you KNEW you were brave. Nevertheless, in the light of the day, with your goggles thrown away, the high-dive seems a bit lower. Somehow that thought doesn't make you feel taller and your step feels less bouncy. You realize that the paralyzing—the real quadriplegic—fears don't come with what you can and cannot do. Can I really fall in love? Can I actually move away from home and become an “adult”? Can I be a good example to my rebellious little brother? Of course you can. You can do enough, give enough gifts, say enough, work hard enough, make enough clever quips, and love enough. BUT the real fears come when being brave doesn't quite cut it. The doing—the falling—helps you realize that despite your best efforts, you don’t have control of the outcome. Fears start to stem from who you are—your actual essence and true capacities as a person—and not from holes in your resume of friendship, academics, love, or just life. Now, THAT is fear of the worst kind. I've fallen in. I've done my part...but it doesn't seem to even matter. Jumping off a high-dive never equaled an Olympic gold-medalist; the judges appreciate your efforts but don’t hold up a “10.” Its reality: sometimes you are not enough.
That said…
I thank God for the beauty of this depressing breakdown: you don’t have to be “enough.” Falling and failing and crying and attempting to communicate is enough. As I’ve come to find out (I’m a little slow on the uptake), perfection doesn’t exist in the outcome. Perfection exists in those moments—however fleeting they may be—when, in spite of your wedgie from the hot-pink swimsuit, you look through your messy strings of hair and think, "YES." And your friends scream “Was it scary?” and your mom takes a picture. You were perfect in your falling. ENOUGH.

as thick as cement

This is from the beloved marta writes. It is another example of why I adore her - because her words really reach out and speak to me. (I like the line below about not knowing - in her childhood days - what it would feel like to be madly in love) Reading this just now made me think of us, The YTS, the memories, the sisterhood, our bond that is thicker than cement. We could fill in our own words - E, if you feel so inclined. I absolutely love marta because she is one of us, though she doesn't know it! Let's get going on that Valentine!
Love to all,
M.
p.s. I feel like a blog hog! Someone else post, pretty please! Or else I'll write more about how much I adore us! (There are worse things, I suppose).

"your childhood friends somehow cement in your mind the time you two were sitting under the slide, hanging on the monkey bars, or chatting on the curb at recess. i can always remember my chalky hands after playing in the gravel outside. she and i grew up together and i have memories of being twelve at girls camp or going to the mall at fifteen, slumber parties and painting our nails, and jumping up and down once we found out we both made it in the musical Grease in high school. all these things are cemented in my life. but for whatever reason, allison at age nine is what sticks.

"back then life was so simple and we didn't even realize it. we didn't know time would fly so fast. we did not know that circumstances could someday pull us apart. we couldn't picture how else to spend a saturday other than walking to Arctic Circle for a corndog, playing barbies and making up dances in spandex. we didn't know what it feels like to grow up and be grown ups. we didn't know that our secret code names wouldn't last forever. or that we would forget our important handshake. we didn't know that fifth grade really wasn't that hard and mrs. roberts wasn't that terrible. we didn't even realize that thirty wasn't that old. we didn't know what things were to come. we didn't know that people close to us could pass away. we didn't know how that felt yet. we didn't know what it meant to be so devastated that all you can feel is helpless. and all you can do is hug. we didn't know how it felt to be hurt or sad or madly in love. we didn't know how important our memories would be. we didn't realize how important our friendship would be either. we were just two girls playing. every day, at one house or the other.

"i told dan when we drove home from her house on sunday evening that i will always and forever be tied to her, no matter what. because of the things we've been through together. because i've seen her grow up and i know we know each other so well. what would life be without friendships as thick as cement?

"she is another of my beloved paperdolls that i cling to."

in the name of love

Is there any way, dear Annie, that you would post some of the quotes you read to us last Sunday? They were oh so thought-provoking and I feel that we'd all benefit from them. When you've got a moment...
M.

REUNION...its been so long

(I know that this isn't merely a scratching post for future meetings BUT) how does a trip to the Stevens cabin this weekend sound? Sunday night? or even tommorrow night?

divinity must live within

It is the woman in us
That makes us write
Let us acknowledge it
Men would be silent
We are not men.
|William Carlos Williams|

Yale. Four letters. Four houses. Four doors. Yet we are one; lives shuffled together as feet have shuffled from house to house, season after season, year after year; a permanent trajectory; physical evidence of memories kept only in our minds.

This indwelling idea of unity, this inherent Sisterhood, as we discussed, cannot be defined nor replicated. There is no blueprint, no formula. Only one word (four letters) which can come close to describing what exists between 1944 and 1920: Home.

Although Yale only physically exists between 19th and 20th east, its extensions are far-reaching. New Zealand, BYU, BU, Italy, St. Mary's, 900 east or Bryan Ave. Letters, packages, emails and voice mails sent across cities and seas. Yet, no matter where we roam, we always return, instantly blissful at the site of cars alongside curbs and lights on in bedroom windows.

What I cherish most about you girls is your divinity. Long ago, when I would watch over E and O, (seems silly now, doesn't it?) after children were slumbering, I would walk down the stairs and pause to stare at the cross stitch which daintily reads "Divinity Must Live Within." I thought if I stared at it long enough, perhaps divinity would take up residence within me. Divinity existed in that house, and in the house of the maker (ELS) and I wanted it to exist in me so badly. I see it now in you: the way you look after one another; the constant outstretched arm; the unlocked back door; the barefoot summer walk at nightfall; the spot under shaded tree or starry night sky. An ever-present place to lean my heart at times when it needs to be steadied. For those times, I thank you. For your divinity, I thank you.

I find myself wanting to take upon parts of each of you. To bottle you up and carry you away with me. To places, to people, to situations and first-salutations. You are me. In me. Part of me. Who I've become. Who I wish to be. My ideals. My Yale Girls. Constant. Beautiful. Dramatic and True!
M.

perfect peace?

Ohhh....the Yale girls finally unite on a darling blog and in the most appropriate manner: words. We always have had a flair for the dramatic (sorry, that just seemed to flow) and for talking, writing, and reading!
Excuse my verbose and often times rash rantings the other night at our petite reunion.Thank you dear Martha for the inspiring snippet of your discourse on love. The inspiration served as an impetus for my own--not quite so eloquent--email. Nothing has changed in my outside circumstance. However, my inner state seems a bit... liberated combined with "finito"...(What is that word? Someone should create a word for that sense of surrender found in complete emotional exhaustion.) My romantic self who softly steps from daydream to daydream has taken any inherent reason and slashed it with a machete (sp?). Although I personally believe logic to be overrated, some call it the most distinguished aspect of humanity. Reason saves us all from flying to India at this very minute in a desperate attempt to re-enact Sara Crew's life. (Perhaps Plato was on to something when he venerated our ability to see the irrational parts of life) In my new resolve to listen to my mind for more than a minor moment, I look forward to my future with a practical optimism and realistic sense that....dangit....I have so much homework to do.