Time Passages

Many may be familiar with Al Stewart's 1978 version of Time Passages whose haunting melody and enigmatic prose took many of us out of childhood and into a new time signature of life. These are the words.
It was late in December
The sky turned to snow
All round the day was going down slow
Night like a river beginning to flow
I felt the beat of my mind
Go drifting into time passages
Years go falling in the fading light
Time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight
Well, I'm not the kind to live in the past
The years run too short and the days too fast
The things you lean on
Are the things that don't last
Well, it's just now
And then my line gets cast into these
Time passages
There's something back here that you left behind
Oh, time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight
Hear the echoes and feel yourself starting to turn
Don't know why you should feel
That there's something to learn
It's just a game that you play

Well, the picture is changing
Now you're part of a crowd
They're laughing at something
And the music's loud
A gal comes towards you
You once used to know
You reach out your hand
But you're all alone
In these time passages
I know you're in there
You're just out of sight
Oh, time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight

The haunting message that I took from this work was that my own time was not only finite, but largely fictional. The stories that we believe to be true, the ones we tell ourselves, have an awesome power to change our behavior, to literally shape our brains (some say sculpt) and to influence both perception and reality in profound ways.

I once met a woman who had a uniquely overpowered drive to "make something of herself". She had passed the bar, attained mulitple degrees, including doctorates in both psychology and economics. She had pushed herself so hard into a rarefied social and intellectual strata that she was nearly out of touch with virtually everyone she came in contact with. The string of letters after her name was sickeningly similar to the rest of our materialistic world, just a hodge-podge of gluttony and excess.

In her brain, she had sculpted a masterpiece of "I am not worthy of love", based solely on her father not being there for her. When we sat with that feeling and took the time to go through the process of discovery with her about where the feelings of inadequacy that controlled her for nearly her entire life, it came down to a single event. At six years old, she had come home with a piece of artwork (in adulthood she told herself that she was neither creative or artistic) that she made with all of her love and affection for her father. She knew that he would be at home when she got there, so she had verily flown to his side to show him her work, running single-mindedly to show him her labor of love. In her excitement, all she could think was how proud he would be of her. Instead, he had gotten a call just as she got in the door and he dismissed her, saying he was busy with an important call.

It was not that she was unstable or had a pathological condition, but in her own mind, she had gone through a portal into a created universe. Her world from that moment on was based on the fact that whatever she attempted would never be good enough for her father and as desperately as she desired his love and affection, she always felt that she either did not deserve it or that she needed to prove herself worthy of the love that she felt went missing that day. This example sounds like fiction until we look a little harder into our own lives and our own experiences. Inside each of our brains there is a six year old child (in some, even younger) telling us a version of reality that served us decades or lifetimes ago that is completely made up.
In the terms of the EST (Erhardt Seminar Training) people, who now call themselves Landmark Forum, each one of us is a racket running machine, incapable of being anything but. The lies we tell ourselves are designed to placate the ego, mediate our internal conflicts and prove to ourselves that even our most outlandish actions are defensible.

Really, who needs a half dozen degrees after all? Well, if you have to ask, this six year old child-lady for one. as she began to liberate her thinking about what was true about her life, she saw for the fist time that the endless arguments and heartfelt disagreements that she had with her father during the course of her life were not because of any fault or crisis of thought that she was having, but because her father had a deep respect for her. From her new perspective, she was able to understand that the main reason her father debated nearly every issue with such fury was because she was the one person who he felt was his intellectual equal. Anyone else would have been unable to hold up their end of the debate. In his actions, he was actually giving her the love that the six year old inside had craved, but in an even deeper and more meaningful way.

Needless to say, when this breakthrough in her own mind was made, a floodgate broke that released a lifetime of tears and frustration and her hardened and cynical shell that she had constructed to protect herself from hurt was ripped away, exposing the character of the child she had so perfectly denied existed inside her for so long. She had created myriad ways of ignoring the desire to bond with her father, instead focusing on pleasing and proving herself to the world. Ironically, none of it had worked. She came to her Landmark forum neurotic, unhappy and longing for satisfaction that had always eluded her.

I was in poverty when I experienced my own Landmark Forum. for the better part of two decades I had worked harder and harder to pull myself out of poverty, but each time my earnings crept up to that imaginary line, they would raise the earnings needed to break out. I had experienced homelessness, squatting (living in a home that did not belong to me) and dumpster diving to keep my body alive. I had raised one child to school age and another was still in diapers, but we (our family of four) lived on less than five hundred dollars a month. The story I told myself is that I was not worthy of more. When I look back on those years of strife and financial turmoil, they were part of the rackets I ran on my own self.

Somehow, I had created a reality in my own brain that was doubly vexing. not only did I not feel worthy of success, but I also told myself that breaking out of poverty would require a relinquishing of my deeply held values. My plight was living proof that to succeed in this world, one has to knuckle under to the oligarchy, sell out to the man and adopt the abusive principles of capitalism. The irony here is that when I did sell organic shirts that I silk screened with my own original art, they flew off the shelves. That business went under because my source for organic cotton shirts was dealt a crippling blow by the Republic of Texas that passed a law saying that organic cotton could not be grown in their state. This was more proof to me that doing the right thing carried penalties that were out of my control.

I also sold protest pins and buttons that made a profit of many thousands of dollars over the course of twenty years, but a dollar here and a dollar there never leaves enough to invest or build a business. After all, how many "Kill Your Television", "No Nukes"  and "Wearing Buttons Is Not Enough" buttons do we really need? Much like my used clothing store, that I had in my dorm room in college, making money always seemed easy. I never gouged my customers and the product seemed to sell itself, because I concentrated on quality at fair prices. I'm the same person that I was back then, but I have sculpted my brain in new ways that allow me to focus on making a better living without sacrificing my deeply held beliefs.

Often the stories that guide our lives have been made up by a child and we have to ask ourselves the serious question, "How long do we want to let the hurt child inside make all of our decisions for us?"

Living in the now involves not only bidding adieu to past and future, but vanquishing the limits placed upon our lives by prior experiences. Not an easy task, I admit, but nothing valuable comes easy. Letting go is far more complex than the words imply, but rest assured it can be done. Our inner world determines what we are capable of seeing around us and how we perceive the world can be changed over time. Investing in clarity of thought pays incalculable dividends. Along your path, try to always remember that the universe is unfolding as it should.

Saturnalia Wishes

This Holy Day Season, it is well to reflect on our past and renew our commitment to the future. In times past, prior to the injection of Christ into the season, (Whose Birthday, by the way, was nowhere near the solstice) these were times of great festivities, gift giving and rather than being a commercial extravaganza, it was a time of rest for business. No commercial business was allowed. A jar of preserved plums, candles or other small token was the rule for gift giving. Useful items that showed your friends that you were thinking about them were given. Re-gifting carried no stigma. (This was like, two thousand years before Seinfeld) Slaves were allowed to wear the best clothes of their masters, and slave owners were obliged to serve their charges if only for a few short days. It was the topsy-turvey time of year when children were allowed sweets, to stay up late, and to make the rules. The period of time between the seventeenth and the twenty-third of December was set aside for rest and relaxation, renewing personal ties to friends and family, letting by-gones be by-gones and Partying.

The Roman Saturnalia was timed to reward the mostly agrarian population after fall planting, and after harvest, with a grand celebration, honoring the God of Growth & Abundance. In times of old, the chance to revel and relax was no less necessary than it is today. Sadly, it seems, the push in modern times is toward making everything perfect. Norman Rockwell may not have created the unreasonable expectation of universal bliss and the perfect family but he definitely codified it in the psyche of most Americans. This in turn has led to tremendous feelings of lack, isolation, ambivalence, and for many, depression. We hear about commercial interests during this season ad infinitum, yet the things that matter most, the needs of people we care about, are glossed over or ignored. I would hazard a guess that in the days of honoring all men, the eternally giving nature of each of us was rejoiced in, and no one felt that they were "from another planet." Feeling part of a larger community, especially one that was whole and aligned with the Gods and Goddesses must have been resplendent. Military exploits were suspended, war could not be declared during this time, "normal" behavior was frowned upon, and all were able to abide by relaxed rules regarding social class, etiquette and decorum.

It seems that we have reached a time where if one has significant resources, these rules are relaxed at all times. The slaves never get to wear the master's clothes, not even for a week, and the idea of suspending our expectations never occurs to us. Week-long revelry is suspect, frowned upon, and considered a little too hedonistic. The idea of encouraging everyone to do it on a specific week seems to us to be over the top. Maybe if we could associate it with football, or perhaps basketball, it could be placed in context, but to get things right between the individual and a community, or to get things right between humans and the Gods, now that's nearly treasonous! It is at least anti-capitalist, and that is who happens to be ruling the day. The "Keep Christ in Christmas" people are to be commended, but capitalism has subverted and co-opted the holiday beyond what yard signs can undo. Unbridled greed and consumerism have taken the last vestiges of sanctity from the Christmas Story and are morphing to increase revenues by appealing to other faiths as well. I believe that it is high time that we put our attention back on the solar cycle, the ancient reality of restful reflection, and honoring friends and family in ways that do not encourage depletion of resources, frustrate the primal urge to have fun with the people we love or cause us to flit about in search of "deals" on the very things we hope will create an accord with folks we are obliged to recognize.

The perverse twists and turns of logic, the convoluted rhetoric and the ultra-hype of the Christmas Spirit today have taken on a new hue. Many would welcome the return of gifts like a candle, or preserved plums over Mp3 players, digi-cams, or Best Buy gift cards, but how do you fight the urge to "prove your love" when the daily fare in advertising is to give diamonds or a car? This is where we need to get creative. Recognize where the urge to make gifts bigger and bigger each year comes from. Realize that through re-aligning ourselves to things that are eternal and that really matter, may put us at odds with the current culture of "have more for less". Many may not understand at first. We must be willing to stand up for what is right, even if we stand alone at first. It may take years, but if one spends their holy days stressed out and exhausted, trying to be all things to all people, nothing is going to change. People who love you will get more and more disillusioned, and feel ever more isolated. Have fun, unbridled joy at visiting with friends and bring a tiny gift rather than a huge one. Your unrestrained joy may turn some heads at first, but it may change minds as well.
I am going to do my part by buying a few dozen candles, perhaps some figs, or walnuts to share, and invite over a small number of friends to drink a toast to life, perhaps play a little cards, or dice, and nosh on some snick-snacks. I urge everyone to take a break from the elaborate rituals of modern Christmas, and return to something you can believe in, a well deserved break from keeping up with the Jones'. Take a break from work, at least a week, from bills, they can wait, from your senses if you prefer, but most of all from expectations, for that is the most sublime. When you come back to the life you knew before the holy days, you will see it with fresh eyes. Things you liked about yourself, and your life, you are welcome to pick up again. Those you do not, will be easier to let pass. New Year's Resolutions anyone?
It has been said: "You have to be out of your head to be in your right mind." What better time to do it than just before a long winter's night? Or during one for that matter. It is time to start realizing the dreams that have carried us through the dark oppression of Capitalism. It is time to honor or neighbor and friends. It is time to take our place in Nature's chain. Instead of continuing to suck resources from the planet, repeatedly buying gifts, no matter how useless, extravagant or inappropriate, let's get down to basics. We love one another and appreciate spending time with the folks we care about. From this foundation of love, all things will grow. Economic factors have no place in holy days. Give them no quarter and they will find their rightful place among banality and vulgarity. Blessed Saturn, thank-you for our continued wealth, our overflowing cornucopia, our fertile soils, our sustenance and the opportunity to serve the planet for another year!