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Christine's concert yesterday was lovely. The soloist, who is also her instructor, is incredible, so the strength of his performance holds up the community orchestra. Regrettably, the mandocello performer did not quite pull off the Hall of the Mountain King part. Christine noted it after. I wonder how it feels as a group of performers of varied strengths and talents to bridge desire for quality with the desire to share the joy of creation.
--==∞==--
I stayed with my pre-Meeting reflections through Meeting, pondering boundaries. I read Frost's Mending Wall and, in my metaphorical frame, found myself jealous of Frost and his neighbor, working on the boundary together. Christine and i work on boundaries together: boundaries between each other and the boundaries that create the "we." We learn to accept more discomfort, more challenge together; we each stretch to fill the needs of the other without completely loosing ourselves in each other.
I know that our relationship is something priceless, and i can't compare it to other relationships.
But i will, anyhow.
That camaraderie of working together on the boundaries is a balance to our choice to be vulnerable. Brene Brown didn't talk about the need for boundaries because she probably didn't work with folks who were over-connected (and it's probably not her issue). But my mother is someone who is "enmeshed," who struggles to learn boundaries, who gives and pours herself out and out. It's not exactly being vulnerable, in that -- using spatial metaphors -- she's far from her grounded center but is "spreading herself too thin." She looses herself in others. When i've presented her with boundaries, she retreats far far away. She reads the boundary as a rejection, as a thing that causes her pain.
For me, i think, i have an emotional lesson that to create a boundary is to reject. So i probably let folks far closer in than normal, because i fear drawing a line and rejecting them. I also have lots of warnings far out from my boundaries, indicating that a boundary is ahead. Most people, i think, read all those warnings and never intrude, even though i would welcome them to be closer. Some people are probably less good at reading boundary signals and, in my past, i've gotten caught up with them, let them in very close. When i've finally had to point out that there was, actually, a boundary (yeah, that low row of rocks back there, could you step back?), those folks have essentially disappeared from my life. (Well, except for one person who constantly sends Christine and i gifts: it's very weird.)
And then there are the folks i marvel at, who continue to stay connected with me (and us), despite the many times we say we can't, we're "busy," no, no, no. "What about today?" they ask again, gently and without judgement (and sometimes laughing because they, too, are introverts).
So i have two things to work on. First is my shame and worry that i can't be reliable. That is my lesson from Brene Brown: i have an unreasonable shame that i can't be there all the time for everyone. (Lesson from my mother, who is always there for everyone at the cost of her core being.) I am also probably ashamed of having needs, that those are the needs of an introvert and sensitive person for less stimuli and quiet. (Lesson from growing up that retreating inward was taken as a rejection of my mother.) I need to pull down all those warning signs, far out from my boundaries that say "BOUNDARY AHEAD" because healthy folks will probably do just fine in encountering a boundary.
And then there's the expression of my authentic vulnerability as a boundary. I need the boundaries to protect my needs -- and here, we hit some work issues: I need this time between 6 and 7 to journal. It's not always like this, but sometime it is. I let work encroach (and i don't know what to do other than find another job). There are probably other needs: the need for down time and quiet and loosing myself in following my curiosity and creativity. A need to exercise and take care of my health.
And now, i need to head to work!
--==∞==--
I stayed with my pre-Meeting reflections through Meeting, pondering boundaries. I read Frost's Mending Wall and, in my metaphorical frame, found myself jealous of Frost and his neighbor, working on the boundary together. Christine and i work on boundaries together: boundaries between each other and the boundaries that create the "we." We learn to accept more discomfort, more challenge together; we each stretch to fill the needs of the other without completely loosing ourselves in each other.
I know that our relationship is something priceless, and i can't compare it to other relationships.
But i will, anyhow.
That camaraderie of working together on the boundaries is a balance to our choice to be vulnerable. Brene Brown didn't talk about the need for boundaries because she probably didn't work with folks who were over-connected (and it's probably not her issue). But my mother is someone who is "enmeshed," who struggles to learn boundaries, who gives and pours herself out and out. It's not exactly being vulnerable, in that -- using spatial metaphors -- she's far from her grounded center but is "spreading herself too thin." She looses herself in others. When i've presented her with boundaries, she retreats far far away. She reads the boundary as a rejection, as a thing that causes her pain.
For me, i think, i have an emotional lesson that to create a boundary is to reject. So i probably let folks far closer in than normal, because i fear drawing a line and rejecting them. I also have lots of warnings far out from my boundaries, indicating that a boundary is ahead. Most people, i think, read all those warnings and never intrude, even though i would welcome them to be closer. Some people are probably less good at reading boundary signals and, in my past, i've gotten caught up with them, let them in very close. When i've finally had to point out that there was, actually, a boundary (yeah, that low row of rocks back there, could you step back?), those folks have essentially disappeared from my life. (Well, except for one person who constantly sends Christine and i gifts: it's very weird.)
And then there are the folks i marvel at, who continue to stay connected with me (and us), despite the many times we say we can't, we're "busy," no, no, no. "What about today?" they ask again, gently and without judgement (and sometimes laughing because they, too, are introverts).
So i have two things to work on. First is my shame and worry that i can't be reliable. That is my lesson from Brene Brown: i have an unreasonable shame that i can't be there all the time for everyone. (Lesson from my mother, who is always there for everyone at the cost of her core being.) I am also probably ashamed of having needs, that those are the needs of an introvert and sensitive person for less stimuli and quiet. (Lesson from growing up that retreating inward was taken as a rejection of my mother.) I need to pull down all those warning signs, far out from my boundaries that say "BOUNDARY AHEAD" because healthy folks will probably do just fine in encountering a boundary.
And then there's the expression of my authentic vulnerability as a boundary. I need the boundaries to protect my needs -- and here, we hit some work issues: I need this time between 6 and 7 to journal. It's not always like this, but sometime it is. I let work encroach (and i don't know what to do other than find another job). There are probably other needs: the need for down time and quiet and loosing myself in following my curiosity and creativity. A need to exercise and take care of my health.
And now, i need to head to work!