A lot of people have floated in and out of my life in the two and a half months of Life For Rent. Men from my last employer have floated in and out, wanting sex with minimal effort. People have stood by me, disappeared, warned me that I would disappear, reappeared, backed away, introduced themselves as strangers that have enjoyed my company, moved on to other lands, listened to advice that they asked for, listened to advice that I offered freely, ignored both kinds of advice, and offered me advice. I haven't asked for much. Everyone else doesn't seem to be in my situation, which keeps me from asking for advice. It doesn't stop people from giving it.
Nowhere do I see a level of flakiness like that of my Meetups. I'm not saying that everyone else is a flake at these things and that I am some kind of saint. My attendance and dedication to my writing groups has more to do with a strong desire to write and a strong desire to meet other writers. But I've had to grow a LOT in this respect. When I was first able to attend the group meetings again I was annoyed by folks who RSVPed "Yes" and never came to the meetings, or people who showed up and left early, or even facilitators who flake out week after week after week and who I have to facilitate for. (That last one still has the ability to rile the crap out of me. It smacks too much of being an assistant branch manager--"Yes, PLEASE, I want the opportunity to make YOU look good." But, again, my problem.)
I hate to go all California new age on your fine selves, but Zen helps. In Natalie Goldberg's memoir "Long Quiet Highway" a favorite passage of mine is when Goldberg talks about her teacher's approach to those who come to Zen Center in Minneapolis--she talks about how Roshi had to let each student go every time in his heart, in case they didn't come back. Some didn't. The commitment wasn't there.
Some did. Some of us can't help ourselves. But that also means that I have to let it go when a facilitator doesn't post a meeting until the day of the meeting, or doesn't post at all, or writers show up all fired up to write and leave after 20 minutes. I have to let that go and not take it personally. I have to assume that in the grand scheme of things that group meeting doesn't quite sit at the same level of priority that it does on mine. And I can't judge the person for that, because sooner or later my brother comes in town and he takes priority over a meeting I was supposed to attend.
That shift in commitment? That's been the most difficult thing for me to learn.
But I am getting better and better at it every day, to the point where if long-time friends flake out or forget or wander off...I don't think anything of it. If they were meant to be back, they will be. If they aren't, then I had fun with them in the meantime. Most importantly, I'm more compassionate with them and with myself for deviations or shifts in the commitment.
Onward, dear reader.
P.S. - This is where today's title of Life For Rent comes from. I'm really in love with my love of writing. It's okay by me if no other lover comes into the path.
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