The Challenge of Living What You See

Finding one’s voice, and the courage to live true to oneself, is a journey that takes a lifetime. That you are reading these words is a testament, to how far I have traveled. I write now to give recognition to those who have little or none. Many people, whose inner spirit has been crushed, walk among us essentially invisible. However, those whose lives have been deemed less worthy, have lessons and gifts to offer. I see and write about these unrealized gifts. Their story is also my own, for much of my life I lacked both power and voice. But now when I uncover a pearl in another, I salvage something equivalent within me. Each acknowledgment of other, retrieves yet another lost piece of self. The sharp distinction between self and other has softened. And delicate hard to see things have become more tangible, more real. My life has become one vulnerable attempt after another, to live an elusive oneness, before it too slips away.

I did not make this drawing, though I wish that I had. It was made by my good friend Heather Mary Quaine. The truth is that Heather and I met recently on Instagram. I left glowing comments about some of her art pieces, and then asked for permission to write about her work. She then made a short video telling me about her life, saying, “I was just rambling on!” But her video moved me to tears. Heather has Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease, an inherited neurological disorder that causes pain and fatigue, and has atrophied her hands and feet. She’s had nine surgeries that enable her to walk, and also endured several bouts of cancer and chemotherapy. Despite her extensive physical disabilities, she still somehow manages to be a caregiver for others; first her mother who passed away with Alzheimer’s Disease, and now her partner, Patrick. Though Heather and I barely know each other, a deeper unconscious connection draws us together. I want to honor that unseen felt sense, and the benefit of following this kind of subtle thread.

Heather has many art pieces that are deeply attuned to the subconscious — they feel shamanic and healing for me. Similar to the uninhibited art of children, I think that Heather’s work illustrates that anyone has the capacity to make great art. One does not need special skill or training. An open willingness to explore and freely express the self is enough. However, many people have been conditioned to believe the opposite. We have forgotten that unselfconscious naivete makes for great art.

Ironically, the art of indigenous people and outsiders, becomes valuable years later; once the maker has been long dead, and the work acquires a degree of antiquity. Unfortunately, those in power typically operate from positions of hierarchy and greed. They control the narratives of what is valuable, while judging and excluding the work of those who lack both power and voice. When one is living under oppressive conditions, making art as an outsider becomes a politically significant act.

Each person’s life counts. However, many go through life more or less invisible. Some are never fully seen. One of the most powerful things that one can do for another, is to sense and support the deeper meaning of their life. This perceptive affirmation makes the struggle and hardship of a life feel worthwhile and bearable. Validating people whose voice and identity have been suppressed, is a politically significant act. However, It is difficult to live and affirm humble values, when residing in the midst of a spiritual materialism, which is being promoted as the real thing. The survival of our humanity may hinge upon an exchange of meaningful sustenance that can be delicate to see and transmit.

Even though I barely know Heather, I feel touched by her art and life. This piece and the hardship of her lifelong disability, speak to me about the power residing in challenges, and the radiance of turning towards them. This self-portrait of her anima, her inner spirit, peers into me with an unflinching gaze. Her animus shows up naked, androgynous, fully present, and questions any sensitive viewer. For me, she/he asks, “Are you present? Are you aware? Do you see what is really happening here? Are you willing to face and live that which you see?” For the act of perpetually facing the challenges life offers, is a simultaneous turning towards radiant peace.

The green color of the figure transmits healing, and links this humble spartan portrait to ancestral mythic deities, such as Tara, Gaia, Raphael, and the Green Man. This inner being emanates a subtle disconcertment. It’s as if he/she knows the ways that I am not yet present and attuned to the subtle threads, which facilitate access to a radiant light. There’s no judgment for my lack, though perhaps some lingering disappointment; for underneath, we all long to align more fully with our deepest selves. From the mind’s detached perspective, one may think this should be easy; but in the thick of actually facing the isolation of deep fear and dark nights, it is anything but easy.

Since my 20s, I have followed an inner thread. This attunement has been a personal thing. So, I felt surprised, when much later in life I encountered the writing of those who also followed a thread. Robert A. Johnson even coined the term “slender threads” to refer to them. In his book Balancing Heaven and Earth, Johnson articulates the threads relationship to happiness. “The Danish writer Isak Dinesen once suggested that there are three occasions for happiness in human life: when there is an excess of energy; during the cessation of pain; and when we possess the absolute certainty that we are doing the will of God. The first of these belongs mostly to youth, and the second is, by definition, brief. The third, is open to anyone at any and all times. To possess the absolute certainty that one is doing the will of God requires coming into relationship with the slender threads.”

I sense a slender thread of playful shining goodness running through the entirety of Heather’s life. It’s more blatantly visible in her sustaining love for her partner, Patrick, who now has dementia, and in her lifelong peace activism. Also, perhaps due to a lifetime of physical disability, Heather is unselfconscious about putting her full self, including all her imperfections, out into the world with honesty and good humor. I deeply admire and respect Heather’s level of self-comfort; she doesn’t censor who she is.

While I was writing this article, Heather posted an image that felt like a response to the drawing of her inner spirit. This portrait of her conscious self, reveals the weariness and grief of dealing with the enormous challenges that life has heaped upon her. But the portrait also reveals how love and kindness have seeped in, weaving themselves into the face of tired hardship. The exhaustion and grief are not separate from the love; they inextricably embed together as one whole. Love permeates everything — the grief, the suffering, the challenge. Even the shape of her head, and the colorful shapes within her face form embedded hearts. It is a face of reality, a face of grace.

William Stafford also wrote about the thread in his poem, The Way It Is. “There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change. People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. But it is hard for others to see. While you hold it you can’t get lost. Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old. Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding. You don’t ever let go of the thread.”

I think that it may be impossible to completely let go of the thread. It is still there waiting to be found, even when you feel as if you have lost it entirely. We have been conditioned to judge success by outer appearances. By that kind of judgmental standard, Heather’s life may look insignificant, with no possibility for her to measure up and stand out. She herself, readily admits her flaws. But from a more subtle and slender perspective, the success of Heather’s life and art radiate profound light and blessings. May you also be touched, and perhaps even recover something that you didn’t know you’d lost from within.

Kim Stafford gives a beautiful commentary on his father’s poem. Plus, it is a pleasure to hear William Stafford recite his own poem.