Finding Boo Radley

As she poured the hot tea into my cup, the aroma of cinnamon reached my nose.  I breathed it in deep as I wiped another tear from my red, blotchy, swollen face.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, “you are just another Boo Radley.”  The words effortlessly rolled from her tongue in a reassuring manner meant to bring comfort and solace. 

I laughed, “Okay explain this analogy – I can’t wait to hear how my failing love life makes me like Boo Radley.”

I think to myself how fortunate I am to have this wonderful person as my dear friend.  As a literature aficionado, sometimes it seems like my entire life is like one big long extended metaphor; I see the layers upon layers of meaning in all that I do and all that I encounter.  I wonder if others do too or it is a gift or curse entrusted to just literary folks.  Apparently I am Boo Radley; this I can’t wait to hear.

“Don’t you remember what Miss Maudie said,” she reminded, “Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy.  They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us.  That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

I was impressed, but not surprised that she remembered the exact quote from Harper Lee’s much beloved text.  It still remains my favorite book of all time and every Fall I renew my lifelong dream of marrying Atticus Finch. I wonder, where are men like that today?  Before I could escape too far into my daydream I was pulled back to reality by her explanation.

“Well,” she began, “you are like a mockingbird in that you don’t impose upon others; you give and give and give to those around you just to make them happy.  You are one of the most giving people I know.  Yet, like Boo, your quiet reclusive mysterious nature keeps others from really knowing you.  And like Boo Radley’s attempt at friendship when he stashed all the gifts for Jem and Scout into the knothole of the tree, your generosity and kindness is so often misunderstood.” 

“Hmm…You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?” I smiled even more grateful for such a caring friend.

“Well,” she smiled, “I just finished the book last week; it’s still fresh,” trying to minimize her spot on insight. “But make no mistake – you are Boo Radley, sweet, shy, sensitive Boo.”

I thought long and hard about what she said and it did resonate a bit, perhaps a bit too much.  I sipped my tea and let my thoughts drift back to Atticus (INFJ) and wondered when I would find another like him.  

Blame it on the Moon – the Heart Wants What the Heart Wants

One glance into a clear night sky displaying a brilliant powerful seductively mysterious moon sometimes can have an overwhelming effect and impact your very soul. 

It did for me in the wee hours this morning.

Feeling restless and unable to sleep, I arose from the comfort of my bed, slipped on some flip flops and ventured outside to the landing in front of my apartment and sat down.  I kicked off my flip flops and walked around in the grass barefoot.  It felt cool against the soles of my feet.  I find that when I need quiet to reflect and be alone with my thoughts communing with nature can often help get me to the place mentally when I need to ruminate with the deepest part of my soul in search of answers that elude me during the day and the noise of everyday life.  This restlessness has been plaguing me for me awhile.  My question continued to swirl around my head as I gazed into the clear late summer night sky.  What I saw took my breath away and I think it was an example of one of life’s true miracles – I saw one of the most beautiful moons I have ever seen in all of my 53 years.  I gasped at the sight of it; it was as if God put that moon in the sky just for me on just this night to show me or lead me to the answer I sought to my burning question.  He does that often; He shows me the answer through nature and lets me uncover it for myself.  We have just that kind of trusting relationship.

The sky was a soft bluish gray peppered with pillows of fluffy white clouds and stars danced and twinkled as if they were performing in a perfectly executed rendition of Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable.”  The moon in her soft quiet strength shone brightly illuminating the night sky.  The mystifying allure she had drew me in as she seemingly whispered my name beckoning my soul to her embrace.  I did not resist; I willingly submitted to her wisdom and intoxicating pull.  I closed my eyes and just listened with a quiet curious heart and pondered the most important question I had. 

My question was uncomplicated – why do logic, common sense and all rational thought abandon me when deciding matters of the heart?  Why does my brain fail me at a time when I need it the most?  She laughed, drew my troubled spirit close to her bosom and comforted me like a lost child being reassured by a loving understanding mother.  Tucked safely within her soothing embrace, her gentle voice whispered to me the answer to my question. 

I freely share what I learned from her; it is quite simple really – the heart wants what the heart wants and we can blame it on the moon.  It is, has been and always will be this way – the heart is not logical; nor is it rational.  It isn’t meant to be.  Love is supposed to be mysterious, sometimes elusive, always powerful and one can only respond with complete utter surrender to its beauty, its promise and its magic. 

If you need further proof of this phenomenon look at history throughout the ages.

Legend maintains that people may act a little strange during times of a full moon; that is not an accident.  The moon is believed to have an almost mystic power over our emotions.  In fact, that power is celebrated and revered everywhere.  A quick Google search produced the following list with representations of “moon goddesses” from various cultures throughout the world tracing all the way back to antiquity.  The list, which by all means is not exhaustive, is a decent jumping off point for any formal inquiry nonetheless; it revealed the following avenues for further exploration: Aega, Alcmene, Andromeda,  Anunit,  Arianhod, Arma, Artemis, Ayla, Aysel, Aysu, Badriyah, Bendis, Budur, Candra, Coyolzauhqui, Dae-Soon, Diana, Hakidonmuya, Hala, Hectate, Heng – O, Hilargi, Hina Hine, Indu, Io, Ishtar, Isis, Ix Chel, Izanami, Jaci, Jezanna, Jyotsna, Kamaria, Komorkis, Lucine, Luna, Maha, Mahina, Mama Quilla, Marama, Mawu, Migina, Mizuki, Monday, Nguyet, Nuray, Ooljee, Pamuya, Pen-Chan, Pensri, Purnima, Qiuyue, Rhiannon, Rishima, Sadarnuna, Selena, Taigi, Taini, Teczistecatl, Tsukiko, Xochhiquetzal and Yolkai Estsan.

The appearance of these cultural representatives of the moon is not an accident; the ancients knew what we have forgotten.  I think instead it is a reminder that we are here in this world on this planet to serve a more noble purpose.  That purpose is love – not only the type of love concerned with our own emotional comfort and needs, but a larger communal love that serves the evolution of humanity.  I think the key to solving the world’s ills lies in understanding and espousing this encompassing kind of love.  Although virtuous in its intent, it is necessary for the future of our humanity because it realigns and rejoins the basic masculine and feminine elements of our collective psyche.  Love’s mystery promises that survival of the physical can be guaranteed when the spiritual union with the heart is complete, when reason (masculine) and heart (feminine) are once again complemented in perfect balance as is our destiny, singularly and collectively.  Our existence hinges on love; without it we are doomed.

The moon understands what few others do.  

Healing

We are not alone in our anguish
Many have traveled the same lonely path
Many more still to come
Retreat to the deep part of our souls 
where heartbreak cannot follow
embrace the solitude
breathe, slowly purposefully,
until the pain dissipates
then reappear stronger, wiser, intact
ready to try again,
that's how we know we are alive
we keep trying
we search only for ourselves

Naked and Fearful

Naked her soul trembles before you

Possessing compassion and unmatched gentleness,

Yet fearful of her own inadequacy.

Her kindness, mistaken by others as weakness,

Hides the strength that furnish her determined steady resolve,

Naked her soul trembles before you.

In her heart she carries those she loves

And protects them with the ferocity of a tigress,

Carefully hiding her own inadequacy.

Her existence, though wrought with struggles

Triumphs over adversity, her constant companion,

Hopeful her soul trembles before you.

Her spirit, not embittered, but affable

Determined to see only the goodness in all

Overcoming her own inadequacy.

She dances passionately with allies destiny and blind faith

In her quest to find her heart’s desire

Naked her soul trembles before you

Yet fearful of her own inadequacy.

Falling Leaves and Letting Go

As I was parking the car upon my return from my evening visit to the health club, I noticed a gentle wind rustling the leaves on a curbside tree.  The change of season is definitely on the horizon I mused to myself noting the cooler crisp air upon exiting my car; it felt refreshingly welcome and pleasant as it teased my warmed skin.  My spirits always feel revived after a workout; for some reason this focused expenditure of energy brings a relaxed calmness and serenity to my soul.

One single solitary leaf was shaken from its place on the outstretched branch and tumbled slowly gracefully toward the ground; the breeze coaxed the fallen leaf directly into my path as a walked down the sidewalk toward my apartment door.  I stooped over to pick up the discarded leaf; its texture wasn’t withered and worn; surprisingly, it still felt supple and giving.  I held it gingerly in my hand and stood motionless for an instant and traced the midrib and net like veins of the leaf with my finger.  A profound sensation of sadness washed over me and I could feel the tears forming and within seconds they began to spill effortlessly down my cheeks.  I hurried up the stairs with the leaf still in my clenched hand hoping none of my neighbors saw me crying over a fallen leaf.  

Once inside I dumped my bag on the chair and sat down at the kitchen table and focused intently on the leaf. “Okay universe,” I said audibly, “what are you trying to tell me?’  For some reason, not entirely evident, this leaf was supposed to present an opportunity for me to recognize something, maybe something I wasn’t able to grasp prior to this moment.  What was it, I continued to question?  Why now?  Answers were not immediately forthcoming, so I busied myself with other evening routines, but I knew something was stirring.  The anxiety was palpable.  Perhaps it just needed to simmer a bit.

I stood at the sink and finished washing the few dishes, glass, cup and my extra-large travel coffee mug from the day.  Before I sat down I opened the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water when I saw the half-empty gallon of Arizona Green Tea still sitting on the shelf left from his visit not too long ago.  It was then suddenly as soon as that connection entered my mind, the “simmer” boiled over as my thoughts carried me straight back to him.

With the changing of the seasons, trees let go of their leaves just as he had “let go” of me.  No amount of unwavering optimism, wishful thinking, or profound yearning was going to change this indisputable fact.  Oh and I had such hope, such wonderful buoyant hope for him, for me, for us.  I sat down at the kitchen table and examined the once supple life affirming leaf.  Clarity reminded me as each tear cascaded down my cheek that the desire of the heart and the cold harshness of reality are not always harmonious, but at some point they will unavoidably collide and then despite your best-intentioned endeavors you, like the leaf, are inescapably shed.