The measure of our lives

On finding meaning in our swirling experience

Dear ones,

In her Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Toni Morrison said this.

We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Sometimes I’m so divorced from the meaning of my own swirling emotions that I can only access myself when I write or speak about it.

Language is never exact; it’s always an approximation of the experience it tries to convey. But I think when I narrate an experience, I can hold it still for a moment so I can get a good look at it. All my inner workings shift and spin constantly—yet if I can even capture their shadow, their imprint, the dust left by their wings as they flit past—well, it’s a clue.

Sometimes I engage words to identify a yearning. Sometimes I need to work through some shame or reflexive self-recrimination. Sometimes there’s a little creative idea in there that needs some attention so that it can wriggle its way up to the surface.

I don’t know if it’s like this for everyone, but my inner swirlings tend to calm down a lot once they’re identified. It’s often that simple. Once you can tell something its own name, it becomes a lot less needy.

Here are some recent swirlings I gave name to:

• I wandered off the track a little in my journey towards better health. I forgave myself. I accepted ongoing imperfection in myself. I kept walking forward.

• I notice that I miss Lila with my body lately, now that she’s out of the house sometimes. There’s a fierce longing to touch her skin, to feel her little monkey self against my big monkey self.

• I’m getting lost in the loop of frustration with my own inconsistencies. The shifting selves, which I wrote about recently, the many ways they disappoint each other.

The self-critical stories are the hardest to break without language. But with it, these great storms can wash ashore in gentle waves of self-forgiveness. I can only forgive them if I can see them.

This is why journaling helps. This is why therapy helps, or life coaching, or a long conversation with a good friend. Our experience can be baffling and tumultuous, and often, the only path to meaning is through language.

Morrison made it clear in her Nobel speech that she saw language as inexact representation too: “Language can never live up to life once and for all. Nor should it.”

In our relationship with our own subjectivity, in the internal worlds we each inhabit alone, language can create company. I see it as setting the stage for a conversation between experience itself and the representation of experience.

Everything we can do to slow down our own negative swirling is good. Everything we can do to make space around us is balm (see Rilke’s poem, below). Sometimes it’s pure stillness we need. But sometimes, when meaning is the precondition for peace, it’s language.

How do you know when to inhabit language in your own quest for peace versus when to go wordless? Let’s talk in the comments! 👇

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Poem of the week

Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower

Written by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Joanna Macy

Quiet friend who has come so far,

feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29

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Ursula le Guin on language, names, meaning

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Community Voices

These are some of the beautiful responses to the Multitasking Identities letter. Thanks so much to those of you who take the time to craft such thoughtful contributions. Love being on this wild inventure with you all!

As is earth school, the good, the bad, and the ugly can happen at any moment with all the emotions and unplanned glitches. Sometimes though, there is magic and alchemy. The minute moments of laughing at my choices or tripping over my feet trying to dance it out. Awkward is the new black, though, and somehow we get through.

- Amy Razeghi

I’ve found that if my spiritual practice stays consistent, then most of my other selves remain calm enough to stay until called upon.

- Rae Delisle

I really want to have a neat response to this. The truth is, at this point of life I've had to ask a few identities to take a long vacation - the really demanding ones that took lots and lots of time and focus (creative and social) and focus on the ones that are more focused on survival (Mum, spiritual, income earner). I trust that the ones on holiday will come back refreshed and eager when the time is right, but I might have to reinvite them gently.

- Eva Popov

The best thing I've found is to to try to nurture each self as she appears and be fully her for whatever time I'm allowed with her. Rather than seeing it as me being FORCED to be one identity or the other, I find when I let go and sink into what appears, I can be more comfortable where I am....even if it's not exactly where I want to be.

- Rebecca Heiss

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Meme corner

Just one cartoon this week, because this one is EXACTLY what I’m writing about here at Wild Inventures, and also what the Bewildered podcast is about.

Sending ACTUAL LOVE to you all out there this week. If you’re missing the meaning, remember to try doing language about it.

~ Ro