Life As Performance Art 128

Today, Gentle Reader, and in the following posts, I would like to explore a bit the impact the words of the Disaderata has had on my life these past five decades or so. I will begin with the opening lines: "Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story." Amid the noise and haste. Like the rest of you, I have lived surrounded by, and totally immersed in noise and haste. At times this has carried me to and fro like a whirlwind, or a cyclone, but unlike Dorothy, I never landed in Oz, never opened my door to see the legs of a dead old woman wearing ruby slippers sticking out from under my house, nor to be greeted by a mob of singing and dancing short people. I have had to learn to cultivate silence, interior silence, in order to cope with life, or with this ugly and garish parody that most people call life. Even when I was fifteen, and had first read the Desiderata, I knew that walking in quiet places would be key to my general wellbeing, and this is what I began to do, every morning, if I could. I used those times to try to focus on God through prayer, and also to appreciate my surroundings, while getting a reading of what was going on in my mind and thoughts. Yes, I did just write that I was only fifteen at the time. How did I know to do this? I suppose that God taught me this. I really can't think of a better answer, so if there are any non believers reading today, please don't take offence, though really I don't give a damn if you take offence or not! I was twenty-four when I actually learned the practice of silent prayer, where literally my head would sink down into my heart and I would be experiencing and living out of the depths of this profound interior silence that had come over me. This has proved to be an invaluable boon to me and to my wellbeing in life. I have generally sought, with mixed degrees of success, to be on good terms with others. It hasn't always been possible, sometimes because of my own lack of patience or charity, sometimes because the others have simply been too stubborn, self-centred and intractable to want to see that there exist others in the universe besides their own exalted selves. I have to admit that I am not always good and kind to others. If any driver looks like he's in a hurry to run me over, I am not shy about shouting at him, "Keep it in your pants, Charlie!" But otherwise I try to employ kindness and humour. To cyclists on the sidewalk, I will simply say, "Oh, silly me! I'm walking on the bike path again. To groups blocking the sidewalk I well announce that sharing the sidewalk is good for the soul. For the most part, they respond good naturedly and with humour and sometimes they even apologize, like all good Canadians. Speaking my truth quietly and clearly has been a learning curve to me, especially with my involvement in various social and political activist communities. People in demonstrations generally like to shout and yell and, where possible, humiliate the enemy. This is why, with rare exception, I no longer participate in these kinds of actions, they tend to summon forth aspects of me that I really should not be proud to exhibit. In my communications with politicians and journalists I have also had to learn the importance of respect, good manners and courtesy while speaking my truth as openly and eloquently as possible. I am still learning to listen to others, and to appreciate and learn from people I disagree with. This is another learning curve, but especially in my peer support practice I have been pleasantly surprised to learn much from my clients as from coworkers with whom I am not always likely to agree.