They Call it "Service" for a Reason

There’s something about service that teaches you what you need to know about yourself.  It does, in effect, hold up a mirror to your shortcomings.  Marianne Williamson calls relationships the “laboratory of the Holy Spirit,” meaning, I think, that we can only advance spiritually in relationship with other people; that sitting around thinking lofty thoughts is all well and good, but will in no way further our growth as individuals.

I have had a wonderful opportunity for growth in service. The main things I learned are:

1       1.     Being kind is always a good idea.  Dealing with people who are not part of your project can make or break you. What is “business as usual” in their lives is large-scale crises in the lives of most, if not all, of the people who call them.   This leads me to

2     2.     What is unimportant to me is a point of crisis for others.  Empathy goes a long way in professional relationships, and, although I can provide reason, I know that pathos always trumps logos in the paper/rock/scissors game of proofs.  Most of the time, honoring their dilemmas, listening to them, murmuring words of encouragement are all that is needed. 

3        3.  It's called “service” for a reason.  You’re serving your constituents. Having a title does not make you their boss.

a.     Their needs and interests take precedence.  If they coincide with your own, it’s a happy accident.

b.     If you need affirmation, call your mom or your bff – you should not expect it from those you serve.  You’re just doing your job.  If they notice, it’s icing on the proverbial cake.  Expect your cake unfrosted.

None of these ideas were new information.  Sometimes I need to learn the same things over and over again until I understand them and can embody them. While this sentiment is certainly not original with me, it summarizes my experience: At the end of the day, people won’t remember what you did.  They’ll remember how you made them feel.   I’d like to believe I did or do  both, but that’s their place, not mine, to determine. 

Experience the Grace

  

When I was a kid, if I heard the word "grace," it was in relation to embodiment, and was usually used ironically:  "Way to go, Grace!" when one fell, etc.  Kids.  Can't believe they don't go all Lord of the Flies on each other more often.  I guess we should thank people who look like supervisory adults for this boon, or, more probably, the conditioned response that makes us think supervisory adults are nigh.  

I was dragged to a couple of different churches, a few different youth groups, two Bible camps, and, who knows what other high-minded organizations as a child.  I'm not sure that it was wasted effort, exactly, but I do know that I missed many key concepts, one of which was the notion of "grace" meaning unearned blessings.  Presumably, "the grace of the Lord" was used with some frequency; it is, I think, a part of the liturgy, for instance.  As busy as I was resisting moral tutelage, this point passed me by. 

Grace is something that I think about fairly frequently, largely because I'm shown instances of it in my own life with astonishing frequency.  My acknowledgment of the universe's bounty is a relatively new thing: I'm fairly certain I didn't see it as such when I was going through what seemed at the time to be adversities of a grand scale, and they were grand to me.  This is the point that troubles me: the strife of others is, to them, real, overwhelming, angry-making, and despair-inducing.  As a friend of mine says, your troubles are interesting, but mine are important.  True story.  

The strife of others is easy for me to dismiss, unless it's obviously paramount.  Natural disasters, tragedies of the human condition, bad luck not of your own making, and little else qualify you for my pity, and  I don't think I'm particularly more callous than the average individual. It's just a hell of a lot easier for me to see problems (dare I say 'opportunities'?  Nay .  I dare not.) as prioritizable if they're your problems.  Had a flight delay?  Suck it up.  You didn't die, and the other airport will still be there, and it will be just as magnificent as it would have been earlier.  Having to stand in line?  Use the time wisely!  Meditate!  Forget your important . . . thing at home?  Chillax.  They have stores where you're going.  

This cavalier dismissal of the emotional pain of others misses the point: we are creatures who are afraid of the unknown.  Certainty gives us an illusion of security, and, while it is an illusion, it certainly makes us feel better.  I wouldn't leave the house without locking the door, although I'm aware how flimsy a protection it is (it would be easy, for instance, to drive a vehicle into my house, rendering my lock irrelevant).   All religions and belief systems, including faith in science and medicine, work, largely, because we believe in them,and we believe in them because they offer us explanations for things mysterious, things that keep us up at night, things that may place ourselves or our loved ones in the way of harm.  

Here's how grace works for me: it asks me to concentrate on the good things around me, the good things that are happening in my world, and, in so doing, it keeps my fear at bay.  This method is not for everybody.  A friend of mine believes that the secret to contented living is believing that everything that can go wrong will, thus ensuring that, if it doesn't go wrong, you will be happily surprised.  Q.E.D. 

Remember the song, "Love the One You're With"?  I used to believe  that that was, at best, immoral and astonishing in its eschewing of decency (I was, remember, dragged around to various uplifting experiences).  Now I see it as an acknowledgment that we should treat ourselves with gentleness and love, and that we should allow ourselves the opportunity to find solace when and where we can.  I'm still against hedonism (except for the bits of hedonism that I embrace whole-heartedly); I see that keeping the fear and the uncertainty at bay is a bigger task than just seeing

wonder can accomplish on its own, and that grace comes in many, many forms

Happy Namaste!

So,  Marianne Williamson refers to relationships as "the workshop of the Holy Spirit," and I take this to mean that  any time we are involved with somebody else in an intimate way, we are learning the lessons that we need to learn in a laboratory environment.  Here's the thing about labs: they're set up, well, they're intended  to be set up, to be safe havens where you can do frightening things, and work with dangerous chemicals, open flames, sharp objects, and/or forces of nature and the like under Divine Supervision.  This, my darlings, is good news.  We can't really be hurt, although our ego can manufacture a victim story, and our bodies can hold negativity as long as we feel those will serve us.  BUT WE DON'T HAVE TO DO IT THAT WAY.  We can realize that we are safe and we can thank other people for pissing us off and generally not acting right because, in so doing, they are showing us what we need to be working on.  Because we are under the protection and care of the Benign Divine, we can realize this: Everyday is Happy Namaste.