"Maid in Manhattan," and Truth

I just finished watching “Maid in Manhattan.” Cute movie. I always like Cinderella tales, however unbelievable. Have you seen it? One of my favorite lines in the movie is said when the heroine (played by Jennifer Lopez) has just been fired, and her mentor, the very wise butler (played by Bob Hoskins), walks to the security window just behind her and returns his badge, as well. Jennifer’s character is aghast, thinking that her behavior has resulted in him losing his job. As she is apologizing profusely, he tells her that he did not get fired, he quit. He then states,

“Sometimes we are forced into directions we ought to have found ourselves.”

Although I love that quote, although I appreciate its wisdom, although I applaud that “life” is structured in such a way as to, periodically, save us from ourselves, I also know that this particular concept can make us feel vulnerable and victimized. It is true that other people’s choices, or even the unforeseen consequences of our own, sometimes propel us into new directions. Friends move away, lovers grow bored and stop calling, companies downsize, rains bury homes in water… And it all feels as if it’s happening “to us,” not of our own accord, and certainly not “for us,” like some cosmic plan for our future delight. However, as someone who vehimently believes that we can be, have and do anything we choose in this life, I harbor a general distaste for all such feelings of vulnerability and victimization.

“Why is this happening to me?” is not generally a cry I endorse. I believe that it smothers our awareness of our own power: the power to choose the most amazing and delightful life we can imagine; and leaves us feeling punished, hurt, and terrified of what, out of our control, might be the blow that ends us. (Dramatic? Sure. But then, in these times, we feel just that overwhelmed, do we not?)

What if, however, instead of avoiding all of those feelings and stifling that lament, I recognize them as also being a part of the richest tastes and textures life has to offer? The questions then become, do I have the courage to feel those helpless, vulnerable feelings, swim in them, and let them nearly drown me? Will I have the fortitude, afterwards, to climb back out of the pit, taking the lessons of that experience with me, and resume my joyful life? Or will I find that it is a Devil’s Triangle, from which I can never return, and I am forever scarred and broken? And wouldn’t, given the general message I try to convey in my writings and seminars, crying out, “Why me? Why now? Why this?” be rather hypocritical of me?

Does my “Living in Joy” premise demand that I am never to feel defeated or desperate? That I am somehow wiser than to succumb to the desire to curl up into a ball, sit in a corner, and sob? I don’t think so. I think, in fact, that my point is exactly the opposite: that remaining in touch with your joy demands that you live honestly. When you're hurt, you cry. When you're happy, you dance. The joy is not found in avoiding pain. It is found in knowing that the places of suffering in which we find ourselves are not black holes from which there is no escape.

So, today, I will wallow in the suffering. And tomorrow (or sometime soon), I will sing. And I give myself permission to do both. After all, as the wise butler in the movie also said,

“What defines us is how well we rise after falling,” which, indeed, requires an initial decent.

Isn’t it amazing that even the most frivolous of tales can remind us of some of the greatest Truths?

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This weeks blog is in honor of those affected by 9-11-2001 who found the courage to wade into their sorrow, and then learn to swim, that they might reach the other side. Never will we be the same. Never will we forget. Always, we will send our love to you, that you might find the joy in knowing that there is life after...