I took this photograph at Selby Gardens, Sarasota, FL in August 2015.
Friday, November 29, 2019
Today I saw "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood," a film about Fred Rogers and a journalist who profiled him and was changed by his journalistic relationship and then friendship with Fred Rogers. Simply, the movie is an adult version of the children's program, Mister Rogers. Watching reminded me of a dream I had that inspired a larger aspiration for my Wonder Anew listening work. Four years ago, I wrote about that dream.
August 2015, a new direction for Wonder Anew
I have a pair of well-worn swamp-walking boots
to traverse some of the richest, deepest muck of my life. (And like all others,
I know life’s muck.)
What is special is my view of
muck as a mysteriously beautiful invitation of possibility and growth.
It's a view with boundless expansion.
Rather than getting stuck in fearful flailing,
I decided to practice putting one foot in front of the other towards goodness
and growth without the luxury of knowing results. I married process. I aspire
to live like everything is okay, that everyone and everything is my friend.
When needed, I open cracked doors of unresolved experiences using the new Wonder Anew process, a process that provides a better understanding of my stunting beliefs, thoughts,
words, and behavior patterns. I am open to seeing myself anew.
I commit to any unresolved muck walking in
conjunction with updating my
website. I join a group of others creating
their own projects. On a group call, one asks, “What if you ask your future
self to write a testimonial of the new Wonder Anew as if you were Mister Rogers?”
Mister Rogers? I felt Jungian synchronicity.
Because about the time I received that Mister
Roger's question, my husband's sister, my sister-in-love Mariclare (Clare) Barrett, passed on after
an arduous, brave wrestle and dance with metastatic breast cancer. (In the last
year, Clare and I recorded audio memos including a few stories about her friendship with Fred Rogers.)
Clare visits in June.
So Clare was on my mind and in my heart. As
was Mister Rogers. Now, it will make sense when I tell you that Mister Rogers
visited me in a dream and suggested
I shift Wonder Anew’s focus. Really.
But it gets better.
Guess who was with Mister Rogers? (You’ll
never guess.)
Leonard Cohen.
I know.
Mister Rogers looks me in the eye and then as
if he’s adapted a private message from his US Senate appearance, says something like adults need help caring for
themselves.
And then, as if they rehearsed this, Cohen leans
over Fred’s shoulder singing, “Forget your perfect offering, There’s a crack in everything, That’s how the light gets in.” In an
antiphonal duet, Mister Rogers in his familiar slow-cadence voice
empathetically says, “Everyone has cracks. Your cracks are special. No
one has cracks like yours,” while Cohen punctuates the message with
other lines from the Anthem tune.
After the song, they glance over at me, where
I then turn around thinking they're looking at someone else.
They’re looking at me. But behind me are all these other people. Like I'm the woman in
the front row of that flash-dance Back Eyed Peas moment
that surprised Oprah. It feels like the others are also waiting to talk to
Fred and Cohen, which helps hasten my clarity: listen to peoples’ stories
and light up their tender hearts. Start with your heart.
Mister Rogers, who apparently reads thoughts,
says: "That's right, Susan. Light up your heart first, and let
your heart continue to lighten as you listen to others."
(I think he’s saying that growth is a lifelong
process of facing our hurts as a way to reconnect with our basic inner
goodness. Helping others feel their illumination starts with my own heart.)
Remember, this is a dream.
And a duet.
Cohen sways around with his guitar and
sings, "Every heart to love will come."
Oh my gosh. Pinch me. I know that lyric. Is
he, will he?
Cohen’s gravelly, old-as-time voice
sings Hallelujah.
The entire song, I kid you not.
The dream ends.
I lie in bed reflecting on this gift of a
dream. Maybe ongoing personal change is living hallelujah to hallelujah. Hmmm. I think that thought could only be possible after a Rogers
and Cohen dream.
So, hallelujah, Wonder Anew is changing.
Rather than others saying and illustrating one-line statements of personal change, people face, write, and share short stories
about the process of personal change.
Stories and images from people willing to
be gut-honest and spunky-real about what’s happening in their lives, what
works, what’s not working, a willingness to be with feelings, especially the
tough ones, and getting clear about what they notice about their relating
patterns, habits, and responses. Listening to people who are just beginning to
process a difficulty or something new or unfamiliar, some who are in
the mucky middle, and some who tell from confidence and wisdom that
can only come from study, reflection, and unraveling experiences in
transformative ways.
The telling heals and unveils and ultimately
makes space for new.
And sharing? The act of submitting a
personal process acknowledges the willingness it takes to see ourselves just as
we are and the flexibility to transform what we learn to change our lives.
Sharing in that regard epitomizes benefitting others.
With love and wonder,
Susan
Notes, 11/29/19
Though I attribute "Every heart will come to love" as a lyric in Hallelujah, it's a line in Anthem.
Leonard Cohen's Anthem inspired my use of Wall Photographs throughout my website.
