Book Review - Daring Greatly by Brene' Brown

Brene' Brown has helped me find a missing piece to a puzzle I've been seeking to solve for a very long time.  I first learned about her work from a TED talk.  And, being inspired by that, sought her books.  This being the first I read.  Brown has done extensive research in to Wholehearted Living and has drawn some fascinating conclusions.  Foremost is strong evidence that wholeheartedness requires the courage to be vulnerable.  Something I hardly suspected.

I was struck by her discussion on the difference between belonging and fitting in.  Here are three definitions she drew from countless interviews:

• Belonging is being somewhere where you want to be, and they want you.  Fitting in is being somewhere you really want to be, but they don't care one way or the other.
• Belonging is being accepted for you.  Fitting in is being accepted to being like everyone else.
• I get to be me if I belong.  I have to be like you to fit in.

Based on those definitions, I don't belong much.  I didn't even belong in my own family as a child.  I had to spend all my efforts fitting in.  I wasn't allowed to be me.  I was expected to be a carbon copy of my Dad; which I was totally incapable to doing.  Much of the time I feel the same way at church, as do most of us I think.  In my High Priests Quorum, for example, we have a lot of great men, who are fitting in, but seem to have no sense of belonging.  Our Quorum is supposed to provide a sense of brotherhood.  I doesn't seem to.  We meet together for three hours every Sunday, but then have little or nothing to do with one another the rest of the week.  Of 20 or so men in that group, I can think of one who has ever been in my home.  Now, I'm not pointing fingers and casting blame, yet.  I'm just making an observation.  

So, what has this got to do with vulnerability and courage?  If Brown is correct, which I believe she is, the blame doesn't lie necessarily with my High Priest's Group, for example; but with me.  In trying to fit in, I am guarded and withdrawn; lacking the courage to present myself as I really am.  Instead, I want to be accepted and culturally have come to the conclusion that they don't want me; only the person I am pretending to be.  According to Brown the responsibility for the fix lies entirely with me.  Now, you can probably see how putting my true self out there might be pretty scary.  That's a pretty vulnerable place to go.  It will require courage.  It might be tempting to remain with the status quo, except; (and here's the rub) we can't really connect at a meaningful level with others if we're are not vulnerably authentic.

I don't think I have to do a lot of persuading to help you realize that connection is one of the things we humans crave the most and often enjoy the least.  Many of  us disconnect out of fear.  Fear of being found lacking in some way.  None of us are perfect, but we get pretty obsessed with presenting ourselves as such in order to fit in.  Certainly it would be nice if those around us from parents and teachers to employers and associates created an environment in which we didn't think vulnerability was so dangerous; but that is often not the case.  That's where courage comes in.  If we really want whole and meaningful connections with those around us, we have to have the courage to present ourselves honestly, despite how vulnerable that makes us feel.  

Fitting in is a hollow substitute for really belonging.  I know from experience.  Still, going for the real deal can be difficult and scary.  Especially, when we have little experience with it and have such an intrinsic fear of rejection.  It is vulnerable to be first to say, "I love you."  One of my favorite literary characters, Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, spends important effort teaching his subordinates to be vulnerable.  He teaches them four things they must always be willing and prepared to say:  I don't know.  I was wrong.  I am sorry.  I need help.  All expressions of vulnerability.  Can you see how they might assist us in making connections with others?  Can you see how their opposites might push others away?  

Part of the fear comes from failing to distinguish between guilt and shame.  For purposes of this discussion:  Guilt means:  I did something bad.  Shame means:  I am bad.  Too often our culture is shame based, both at home and in our institutions.  Shame is destructive.  Guilt is constructive.  If I am shame based, if I see myself as bad, instead of a worthwhile person who's done something bad, I am not likely to be willing to vulnerably present myself in an authentic way.  However, if I feel like I am intrinsically good and have the courage to admit my failings, I am much more likely to improve and to have the help of others in doing it.

Here's a wonderful quote from the book:

"...in an uncertain world, we often feel desperate for absolutes.  It's the human response to fear.  When religious leaders leverage our fear and need for more certainty by extracting vulnerability from spirituality and turning faith into "compliance and consequences," rather than teaching and modeling how to wrestle with the unknown and how to embrace mystery, the entire concept of faith is bankrupt on its own terns.  Faith minus vulnerability equals politics, or worse, extremism,  Spiritual connection and engagement is not built on compliance, it's the product of love, belonging and vulnerability."

That is so true!  I have even thought of changing one of the Primary songs since reading this book.  Perhaps a more accurate lyric would be:  I try to fit in to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  It currently says, "I belong.."  Brene' Brown has made it plain that belonging is far more than membership.  One of my daughters, who no longer attends church once told me that if she was treated at church the way she is treated at home, she'd still be attending.  In other words, she's not currently prepared to fit in, but she'd like to feel like she belongs.  Clearly, her church experience, which included ostracism, was shame based.  "You don't belong here."  This has been troubling to me for a long time.  Ostracism is a false and political consequence.  She, like each of us, has been guilty of sin (which always has it's own consequences) but being rejected or pushed away for it is not an appropriate one of them.  (See Elder Dallin H. Oaks' talk, General Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, October 2012.)  Even though, she may be a cultural victim of less than perfect, yet worthwhile, Latter-day Saints, she remains responsible for the solution.

Well did Jesus admonish us to be "circumcised of heart."  I think by that He meant to be clean, sensitive and vulnerable. Think about it.  Too often, I have been trying to fit in with Him too.  Telling Him what I thought he wanted to hear, instead of vulnerably, honestly presenting myself before Him, just as I am.  I cannot grow from where I ought to be.  Only from where I actually am. He has made it plain that I have value with Him, that I belong and that if I will let Him help me, He will.  To Him I must also be willing to say:  I don't know.  I was wrong.  I am sorry.  I need help.

Book Review - Bury Your Dead by Louise Penny

I've been re-reading the entire Chief Inspector Gamache mystery series in anticipation of the eighth novel.  Updating my recollection is only part of the motivation though.  I don't ordinarily re-read much fiction.  I've found Louise Penny's work to be too important for a single run through.  Her novels teach me so much about myself, my flaws and vulnerabilities as well as my strengths, opportunities and potential for joy.  I am certain to read them all a third and fourth time and fully expect to glean more strength, wisdom and insight with each visit.

Some classify Penny's books as cozy mysteries.  They are quite cozy and can certainly be enjoyed as such, but for the contemplative seeker; they can be so very much more.  

This seventh novel is about frailty, about making and living with mistakes.  About living with or even in, the past.  Set in Quebec City, one of my very favorite places, the novel explores the city's past while Gamache and a few other characters explore their own.

     "I sometimes think we're a rowboat society."
     "A what?" asked Jean.
     "A rowboat.  It's why we do that."  He jerked his head toward the window and the dot on the river.  (Someone in a canoe crossing the icy St. Lawrence in a re-enactment race.)  "It's why Quebec is so perfectly preserved.  It's why we're all so fascinated with history.  We're in a rowboat.  We move forward, but we're always looking back."

For them, the past was as alive as the present.  And while forgetting the past might condemn people to repeat it, remembering it too vividly condemned them to never leave.  He was a man who remembered, vividly. 

It happens in societies and it happens with individuals as well.  This story is really three stories in one. Three stories which are so expertly woven together to express the underlying theme as to be utterly astonishing!  Penny's work gets more compelling and amazing with each book.  Gamache makes the perfect hero by being imperfect; by showing us how to deal with our own imperfection.  And by contrasting that with those who are unable to.

     To be silent in hopes of not offending, in hopes of being accepted.
     But what happened to people who never spoke, never raised their voices?  Kept everything inside?
     Gamache knew what happened.  Everything they swallowed, every word, thought, feeling rattled around inside, hollowing the person out.  And into that chasm they stuffed their words, their rage.

      Why was he still investigating the Renaud case?  Was this his private misdirection?  Was he trying to take his mind off something he might otherwise have to see?  And hear? and Feel? Was his whole career like that?  Replacing one ghost with a fresher one?  Racing one step ahead of his memory?

     That was the danger.  Not that betrayals happened, not that cruel things happened, but that they could outweigh all the good.  That we could forget the good and only  remember the bad.

And so we remember.  It is not so much that we remember; but what we choose to remember, and how.

Je me souviens. 

*****

Book Review - The Brutal Telling by Louise Penny

Number five in the Chief Inspector Gamache mystery series, The Brutal Telling keeps me captivated!

This one's a story of fear and greed, best explained by a couple of quotes:

     "The Hungry Ghost," said Gilbert.
That roused Gamache, who twisted in his garden chair to look at the dignified man next to him.
     "Pardon?"
     "It's a Buddhist belief.  One of the states of man from the Wheel of Life.  The more you eat the hungrier you get.  It's considered the very worst of lives.  Trying to fill a hole that only gets deeper.  Fill it with food or money or power.  With the admiration of others.  Whatever."
     "The Hungry Ghost," said Gamache.  "How horrible."
     "You have no idea." said Gilbert.

 Gilbert glared at him.  His rage back in full force.  But Armand Gamache knew what was behind that rage.  What was behind all rage.

    Fear.

Fear is also behind the lies we tell and this story is full of them.  The interesting part is that it is not just the murderer who cannot tell the truth.  So many others for greed and fear cannot come up with the truth.  And since Chief Inspector Gamache is all about finding the truth and exploring the deep dark places where it too often hides, we get an exciting, interesting, stunning peek to some pretty frightening places that may not be all that unfamiliar.

And what a tale those eyes told Gamache.  In them he saw the infant, the boy, the young man, afraid.  Never certain what he would find in his father.  Would he be loving and kind and warm today?  Or would he sizzle the skin off his son?  With a look, a word.  Leaving the boy naked and ashamed.  Knowing himself to be weak and needy, stupid and selfish.  So that the boy grew an outer hull to withstand assault.  But while those skins saved tender young souls, Gamache knew, they soon stopped protecting and became the problem.  Because while the hard outer shell kept the hurt at bay, it also kept out the light.  And inside the frightened little soul became something else entirely, nurtured only in darkness.

I have been exploring honesty and authenticity a lot lately and The Brutal Telling has been a classic case study that has helped me greatly in my own quest to understand and break out of my own protective, stifling shell of fear.

*****

Book Review - Touching Spirit Bear by Ben Mikaelsen

I have been involved in helping youth at the local juvenile detention center for over eight years now.  I have spent a lot of time wondering about the best ways to approach the problems these wonderful youth face.  How can we help them?  How can we assist them to find solutions and healing?  What are the best resources for facilitating this progress?

I also spent several months living in the wilderness with troubled youth.  I despised the model that program used.  While "the mountain" had its healing powers, because it was far away from drugs and influences, completely distant from privileges and possessions; it could have been so much more.  This wilderness program made the mountain merely a tool for isolation.  They could have done that in a warehouse.  In Touching Spirit Bear, the wilderness, in this case the island, was so very much more.  That "more" was what was entirely lacking in the wilderness program and is hardly even sought in our current judicial system.

Ben Mikaelsen's book provided many of the answers I've been seeking.  There is wisdom here and great risk.  I think we will never see this kind of method commonly used because of the risk.  We don't take those kinds of chances with our youth and the consequence is, we don't get this kind of results.  I think life in general was designed by God to be just this risky, but lawyers and hand wringers have taken much of the potential out of life and consequently out of the lives of our youth.

Reality therapy is pretty simple, as one character, Garvey, tell his young friend Cole:

"Go ahead and try it.  Try manipulating a storm or lying to your hunger.  Try cheating the cold."

There is more to the process this book reveals.  It is not only about being exposed to reality.  It is also about being, exposed to love.  This is another ingredient that seems quite lacking in the institutional setting.  The powers that be, in an honest effort to protect, have even sheltered these kids from love.  Human contact is prohibited.  Perhaps that's risky too. This is not to say that the staff at these institutions lacks love for their charges.  Quite to the contrary, most are under paid and under appreciated and stay precisely because they love these kids.  But at the end of the day, if because of societal fears and institutional rules, these kids don't experience individually focused love, don't connect with others who deeply care about them, don't feel healthy, safe human contact, they won't be getting better and we'll continue to see many of them behind bars again and again.

So I hammer on about the details, while Mikaelsen just tells a story.  And what a wonderful, heart rending, uplifting and inspiring story it is.  Some kids will get the message vicariously through the story.  I did.  You see, I'm not appreciably healthier than they are.  It is clear though, that Cole's experience living it will be infinitely deeper than my experience reading about it.  And Cole's recovery will be correspondingly sturdier than mine has been.  As I note this, though, I realize that reality and love can be had right here where I am.  I don't have to isolate myself to an island or a mountain.  Reality and love are everywhere. The difference is that here I have access to the tools I use to avoid them.

*****