Hakuna Matata - not a wonderful phrase

"Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it."  Rafiki, The Lion King

I took Chatterbox with me to the movie theater to see the re-release of The Lion King this past Saturday.  It has always been one of my favorite Disney movies, and I couldn't wait to share the experience of watching it with him.  He elected a Starbucks marble pound cake as his treat rather than popcorn, and we smuggled in sodas to attempt to keep me from going into bankruptcy to buy food in the theater.

It was as magical as I had hoped.   He was transfixed the whole time, just as I always was as a child when I went to the movies...soaking in the immensity of the screen, the smell of the popcorn, and the boom-boom of the bass in the soundtrack. 

What I didn't expect was the rush of a forgotten memory....seeing The Lion King live on stage with my mother-in-law some years ago when she was still alive.  We took her and her life partner of 25 years, who I also love dearly, to see it as a thank you for gifting her used SUV to me when she was ready to buy a new one.  It was a good truck, a tank really.  She was always saying how she didn't like the idea of me driving around in my little Ford Escort with all the crazies on 285.  She used to joke that driving in Atlanta was like risking your life on a daily basis.

We lost her to a rare form of Parkinson's around this time two years ago.  And I miss her every single day.

We had a rare relationship that daughters-in-law can only dream of.  We enjoyed an easy rapport with each other, and she was incredibly good to me.  She was quirky and soulful, and loved her two sons like crazy. 

The thing that I respected most about her was that she owned up to her mistakes.  She was very vocal about her shortcomings as a mother in her children's early life...and although she would often frame these comments in a funny story from their childhood, she was adamant that she made innumerable mistakes during those years and always regretted her inability to be there for them in the way she should have been.  I always somehow felt that she said these things within hearing distance of her sons as a way to seek their forgiveness.  As I watched Simba go through his journey of pain and ultimate victory during the film, I was reminded why I loved and respected her so much -- for her willingness to tell the truth...and how facing her demons helped to transform her into the loving, nurturing person I knew her to be. 

I marinated with my memories of her and other weightier issues as the movie concluded, its central themes taking on a more profound message than when I first watched it years ago.  I recognized in Scar the most heinous of enemies, and maybe the greatest Disney villain ever...the way he orchestrated an "accident" to kill his own brother then lied convincingly to a young, impressionable Simba...hissing and whispering a web of shame into Simba's mind...and does it so well that he almost changes the poor cub's destiny to become King.  All for the sake of his own selfish ambition and jealously.  Simba runs...Scar wins...and the entire kingdom suffers for it.

Here's the interesting twist that didn't really hit me until this viewing.  Simba perceived his greatest sin as ultimate responsibility for his father's death.  Of course, it wasn't his fault...the audience is in on the truth.  But what if Mufasa's death had been Simba's fault?  What if he really was responsible in some indirect way?  Was this Simba's greatest sin?  I don't think so.

I think it was the running away part.  That was the true turning point.  The one that could have changed not only his story, but his future children's stories, his mother's story, and the entire kingdom's story.  Running was the easier choice, the faster way to a happy ending.  His life with Pumbaa and Timon in the jungle turned out to be kind of awesome.  Not a care in the world - Hakuna Matata!  Just put your past mistakes out of your mind.  Facing them just makes you feel bad.  It hurts too much -- so Hakuna Matata instead!

Aren't you glad that's not where the story ended?
 

My favorite character in the story is Rafiki.  He comes across as a little nuts, but it turns out he the most sane one in the bunch.  He's the seer, the truth-teller.  He sought Simba out and hit him on the head with the truth of the matter -- literally.  It is a beautiful moment of epiphany as Simba faces the choice of his life.  He can continue his carefree existence, never thinking of the consequences of his past actions...or more importantly, his inaction... and allow those dearest to his heart to continue to reap the disaster he has himself created; or, he can put aside his shame, return home to face his family, tell the truth (whatever the consequences!) and fight for his rightful place on the throne.

Whew.  I don't know about you, but the first one sounds a bit easier.  But that's an illusion -- and Simba recognized it as such.

I'm going to go out on a limb here with a statement.  It applies to men AND women, obviously.  But I feel that I should say something specifically to the men that may run across this blog.  All two of you, anyway.  Because this is really, really important that we get this right for the next generation. 

The world needs more men that will face their mistakes, and do what needs to be done by heading the charge to fix them.  The women and children in your home need that from you.  Your employees need that from you.  Pastors, your church needs that from you.

This means more than putting on your swagger and showing us all how strong you are.   It even means more than saying you're sorry when you mess up. 

That's not good enough.  It takes a bigger man to take it a step further.  It means looking at your family and friends in the eye and telling the truth about where you failed and why, taking responsibility for your actions, facing the consequences head-on and doing the hard work to go about repairing the damage.

I'll go a step further.  It also means busting the news of your mistakes wide open before you are found out by someone else.  That's right...before someone else has to shine the light on the stuff you don't want anyone else to know about.  

This goes against the grain.  I get it.  I really do.  It's a pride thing all mixed together with a shame thing, and the thought of just airing out your business when no one really knows your mistakes to begin with sounds like opening a can of worms for no good reason.  You rationalize, betting on the possibility that no one else may ever find out, then lucky lucky you gets to have his cake and eat it too.

There's one little flaw in that plan.  You know, and God knows...and it's the knowing when you put your head on the pillow at night that will eat away at you, and ultimately make you less of a man...even if no one else ever knows. 

This is not a news flash, friends.  All you have to do is watch CNN covering the good folks in Congress.  Actually, you don't even have to turn on the TV...look at your best friend, your brother, your boss.  This is an epidemic that is running rampant in our world.  The consequences are clear...if you do not take hold of your pride and wrestle it to the ground when it threatens to rule your choices, you will ultimately lose something.  You will lose a friend, or your wife, or your children's respect, or your financial security. 


You may even lose the destiny that had your name written on it before the beginning of time.  I'd say that's a pretty big price to pay for saving face.

Here's the beauty part.  When you step up to the plate and do this, a miraculous thing happens.  The people around you that truly love you will rally and support you through the cleanup of the mess you have made.  You may have to go backward before you go forward.  In fact, I guarantee it.  It will set you back and make you feel as small as an insignificant ant for a while.  But at least you'll be on the right path again instead of going further down a road to nowhere good.

We all make mistakes and we all know how deep down that we'd rather run.  Maybe that is why we are so affected when we see a man who seems to have everything going for him put it all on the line for the sake of his integrity and the people he loves - consequences be damned.  You must believe this...the man who is strong enough to put aside his pride to save his marriage, or his children, or his business, or his church inspires awe and respect when the dust settles and the story is told.  You will become the man that other men look up to, women aspire to love, and children respect.

You may not have all the animals in Africa bow down to you as you stand gazing from a tall precipice or anything.  But living out your true destiny is pretty cool too.

Se Wa Teneo

Sorry to have dropped off the face of the earth like that.  It's something I do intermittently when I get the wind knocked out of me.  This time wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be.  This time, it was more of a blip on the map.  I just didn't call friends quite as often, and stopped blogging and Facebook-ing.  But not too long ago, it was quite a different story.

This is the way I see it:  All of us have a certain amount of emotional energy to expend, give or invest in our tanks.  For me, my initial allotment goes to Chatterbox right out of the gate, so I guard that and reserve it carefully, making sure that he will always get what he needs from me.  Then the remainder gets doled out -- job, family, friends, volunteer commitments, you get the picture (now, before all the Christians get riled up about the pecking order of things, I kind of look at my faith as a constant conversation with God that never turns off.  He's not on the list because without him I have no list.  He is the list...without Him, it all kind of evaporates).   What this means is when I receive a blow I wasn't expecting, I have to allot some of my "fuel" to deal with the Nasty.  It's like someone has siphoned fuel out of my tank, and there's not enough...so something or someone in my life has to go without for a minute.  It's not because I've stopped caring, it's just that there is only so much to give on any one day.

So I've learned that I can somewhat measure how I am doing with my healing process as to how much and to what extent I disappear when something bad happens.

It turns out that when a person goes through some kind of trauma (whether that be emotional, mental or physical), they go into kind of a survival mode.  They find reserves they didn't know they had in order to continue on in the face of the Nasty.  Some people take the Nasty and bury it deep inside so they can do better with their facade of normalcy.  But the problem is that the Nasty bores holes in their hearts and spirits...and the result is that it slowly eats them alive.  But the Nasty will eventually leak out....and when it does, it destroys everything in close proximity.

I decided early on through God's intervention that I was not going to go that route.  But the catch is, if you're going to deal with the Nasty as it comes, it is extremely hard work.  You have to be purposeful about it -- you have to pause and take time for introspection, and very carefully measure your response to the Nasty. 

That takes a lot of fuel from the tank.

So, anyway, I dealt with a lot of Nasty over a period of several years and it drained me to the dregs.  My tank was not only empty, but I was as dry as a 7-year drought.  I lived in survival mode for so long that it became my new normal. I knew I needed to find a better way.  Thankfully, this last year has been a season healing...of starting to come out of refugee-land and rejoining the world.  But although it has been necessary time, it has been a lonely time in many ways.  My social circle is smaller than it's ever been, and my friends know that weeks and months may go by without hearing from me.  The ones that are still around love me anyway, and for that I am thankful.  They know how battle-worn I am and that I sometimes need some time to let the tank start to move past the big E.

But the last few months, I have wised up to a few things.  This is not a place to stay in forever.  I realized that to really gain some momentum in my healing, I needed to venture back out in the world and be with people in a meaningful way.  I needed to start giving of myself again to others besides Chatterbox and my teeny tiny social circle.  I didn't feel like I could.  I thought, "There's just not enough in there to give right now."  My isolation was lonely, but it was safe and predictable...and not as scary as more people needing things from me that I knew I didn't have.

But God didn't put us on this rock to live in a Room.

God is kind of sneaky.  He speaks to me in all kinds of ways.  In the last couple of weeks, I've enjoyed some modes of entertainment that have touched on (actually, SHOUTED) this idea.  Chatterbox and I watched Tangled over the weekend, a retelling of the story of Rapunzel - the one with the girl who lives her life in a tower.  I also got my hands on a book called Room, which was recommended to me by my sister (who by the way, has one of the best blogs around, bar none).  It is a harrowing story of a woman kidnapped and held prisoner in a single room for years.  While in captivity, she becomes pregnant, and raises her son alone in this single room -- and it is the only universe this child knows until the age of 5.  The tale is told from his perspective, and is astounding in its honest portrayal of the perceived safety of a life in captivity.

Here's the takeaway.  When you live in just a Room, it limits everything you might have been.  Dreams become unnecessary because that might take you outside of the safety of the Room.  Inside, it is comfortable.  It is predictable.  Over time, the thought of anything else is downright terrifying.  But the truth is, whatever the circumstances of your captivity, there is only one person that can ultimately get you out.

You.

Every one of us at some time or another in our lives gets the short end of the stick.  We get beat up by the people who are supposed to love us.  We get treated unfairly.  Some are abused in the worst ways and some live through unimaginable pain. 

Because I feel I have some experience the area of pain, I can safely say this without hypocrisy:  What are you going to do about it?

"I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really...get busy livin'...or get busy dyin'."  - Andy Dufresne, "The Shawshank Redemption"

That's right.  Only you can make the choice to get on with it.  And don't kid yourself, it is a choice.  It's not something that happens to you, or that God will just drop into your lap like a neatly wrapped present.  You've got to do the thing that scares the crap out of you -- maybe not just one thing, but two or three or four.  You put yourself back into the world, because if you don't, you will never be the person you were meant to be.  You will never be the wife, the husband, the mother, the father or influencer you were supposed to become.
  
Ecclesiastes says there is a time for everything.  I've done lots of mourning and weeping lately...enough to last me for the rest of my life, if you want to know the truth.  But that season of my life is passing away, and something new is rising.  It is hope.  Hope is what make you move when you think you can't.  It is usually the catalyst for change, which is why some see it as salvation and others see it as dangerous.

For me, it is the permission to dream again.

Andy Dufresne's dream was to escape to Se Wa Teneo -- a village right on the Pacific...the sea with no memory.  It was a dangerous dream because of its audacity...its impossibility.  But for Andy, he knew if he couldn't find a way out, he would die.  Maybe not literally.  But he would cease to be himself...at least, the one that mattered.


It's the same for any one of us.  You can push your way out of your prison, however terrifying that may be; or put your dreams in a jar -- where they will be just another decoration on a shelf in your Room.

Once I gave myself permission to dream again, the first thing that I noticed was how much bigger they were than my dreams ten years ago.  The next thing that I noticed was that it didn't bother me that they would take significant time and effort from Yours Truly to come to fruition.  It's just time, after all.

Any dream that's worth having is bound to take some time, right?