GIVING IT UP


One long, white blanket. Chilled air. Snow drifts. New flannel lounging pants. A time for settling in, reflecting.

It seems I've been travelling through so many emotions lately. Not my own but others. Emails and blogs and essays. Fear. Loathing. Hate. Sorrow. Loss of faith. Trepidation. Melancholy.

The sources: lovers, editors, agents, friends, would-be-friends, society in general.

The common thread: control.

I'm reminded of an essay I read almost two years ago. Oprah Winfrey, in one of the early issues of her magazine, reflected on the time in her life when she was trying so hard to get the role of Sofia in the Color Purple. She was anchoring A.M. Chicago at that time and was called in to audition. In the movie, Sofia was married to Harpo and since Harpo is Oprah spelled backwards, Winfrey took it as a sign that the part was made for her. Two months went by and she didn't hear a word. When she called she received the classic "don't call us, we'll call you response," but what her inner woman told her was "they don't want you because you're too fat." She ran off to a workout retreat and set about trying to lose 30 pounds in two weeks. One day at the spa, while running around the track all alone, it dawned on her that it would take a downright miracle for her to lose thirty pounds in two weeks. Crushed, she went back to her room and started crying and singing that old spiritual, "I surrender all." Somewhere between the crying and the singing a member of the retreat staff told her that she had a call. "Someone from Hollywood is on the line." It was Steven Spielberg asking if she could be in his office the next day to audition. "And by the way," he said, "if you lose one pound you could lose the part."

She says her life changed dramatically after that. Not because she got the role but because she decided she would never again allow herself to be so attached to an outcome. "Running around that track, I realized my worth was not defined by outside circumstances, by what I did or didn't have. I realized that all I can ever do is try my best and know that that is enough. And then I must surrender."

What I get from this is the giving up of control. The process of allowing something else, something far outside of herself, to control the way she saw herself, her present and her future. Now, I'm sure someone will argue that Oprah's billionaire status enables her to make such choices. I would argue not. First off, she wasn't a billionaire when she made that movie. Secondly, money has nothing to do with state of mind. Rich stupid people abound. Lonely rich people abound. Depressed rich people abound. It boils down to belief systems and what you chose to believe, what thoughts you choose to dance with. I choose to believe that we do have choices about our thoughts. Yes, the brain has some very intricate pathway for establishing thoughts but once they are present we do have the choice of harping on them or moving on.

I saved this essay and put in my dream journal for times that my confidence wanes. The times when I am so encumbered with thoughts about my writing path: will the book be picked up? will I sign with the agent I really want? will I get the contract that connects my point A to my point B? will the children do well in their own lives? will they succeed in school and go off to the fantastic colleges I envision for them? will....will...will.

I think about how easily we slip and give our control away. We slip it into the hands of lovers, we hand it to the people in charge of managing the work we do. As artists, we give it away to to readers and listeners of our work: if they don't understand it and don't accept it we feel rejected and we question the worthiness of our toiling. We look to publishers and agents to accept our work for publication and when it isn't, once again, the world feels bleak, the days are empty, the nights are long and cold.

I say that we must cease, stand still and look at what lies in the palms of our hands. Beautiful lives; lives filled with promise and hope. Lives filled with bright and colorful imaginings. In our hearts are stories and songs and poems waiting to burst forth. There are inventions and discoveries awaiting. There is love to be received and love to be made. There is a newness waiting in the wings for yet the chance to just be. I say that we must stop giving control to things outside of ourselves. If the lover leaves, well then we must cry but we too must know that we are still special and beautiful and worthy of being loved. And we must first do the loving to ourselves and with ourselves before we look to someone else to give it to us. If the publisher of a journal does not want our work, then we must find the publisher that does and if one still does not exist after significant searching then, well, we must be the publisher of the work ourselves. Whether that means publishing it on a blog or in a chapbook or in a novel: resources abound in getting your work out there. If the music you make sounds like a wounded animal to someone else, then find another person to listen to it. And if one does not exist, you be the one to listen.

My argument is that we give our control away far too often and in so many ways, without even knowing and by the time we look around at what's happening the situation is disastrious. We are left bereft, questioning, doubtful, worried. We look around asking why me?; focusing more on the answers than the questions themselves.

After reading Oprah's piece many times I made that decision for myself as well. This year, I decided to move forward with publishing my chapbook and today, though it is not in my hand, I do have a completed cover (the graphic artist who's working with me has come up with a beautiful, beautiful cover and layout), I have a wonderfully affirming introduction written by my mentor, I have a solid preface that speaks to how I have come to be a writer and artist and I have a collection of poems and three strong short stories that definately show my best effort. I am the founder of the Poetry and Prose Literary Arts Collective and I have pulled together a group of poets who are really talented and committed to art and bringing poetry to the people. We'll be heading up to Philly next month to be on a radio show, reading our work and speaking about contemporary literature. I'm making some excellent revisions on this novel and seeing it in new ways that I hadn't seen when I started. I have learned a great deal. Am I rich and famous? Far from it. But I'm not allowing that fact to control what I do, what I submit, what I publish, what I dream.

I am even becoming more patient with my children. I'm not worrying about the math with Kid 1 anymore and the potty issues with Kid 2. I am not worrying about their destinies because I am not allowing Fear to control the way that I see them; what I know they can do and what they are good at. Life is one day at a time and we will handle it all, one minute at a time.

I'm making better choices about the company I keep. For a long time, I'd put up with people just for the sake of having company. No more. I've learned never to give anyone that amount of control over me. Relationships last as long as they are supposed to and though it's so damn hard to say goodbye to people we love (men and women) it's all part of the cycle of life. I have come to understand this thing about seasons.

So I guess what I am saying is that one must look at the things that cause distress and ask: why I am I giving this situation control over me? Why am I allowing this "Thing" to pull me down and out? Why am I not submitting my work? Why have I stopped writing? Why am I staring at a blank page? Why am I waiting for someone to discover me? Why am I not doing the things I need to do to move myself forward? Who is in control?