Listening Generously

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In the final reading from Kitchen Table Wisdom, Rachel Naomi Remen reflects on mystery in everyday life:

The most important questions don't seem to have ready answers. But the questions themselves have a healing power when they are shared. An answer is an invitation to stop thinking about something, to stop wondering. Life has no such stopping places, life is a process whose every event is connected to the moment that just went by. An unanswered question is a fine traveling companion. It sharpens your eye for the road.

As a freshman in medical school, I had been randomly selected as class photographer and given a camera to take pictures for the yearbook. I took pictures for four years. At first I felt burdened by the responsibility, the need to carry the heavy camera with me to class, to remember to look at things. But in time, the camera caused me to see my ordinary surroundings far more clearly, to become aware of beauty around me in some very unlikely places. It had given me new eyes. A good question is like that Zeiss.

In some fairy tales there is a magic word which has the power to undo the spell that has imprisoned someone and free them. When I was small, I would wait anxiously until the prince or the princess stumbled on the formula and said the healing words that would release them into life. Usually the words were some sort of nonsense like "Shazam." My magic words have turned out to be "I don't know.

OK, I'm a girlie girl. I'll admit it.

So I know some of you like to wake up to a soothing cup of java in the morning, a little "pick me up" to get the wheels turning. Well, for a real turbo charged blast off, let me recommend a frightened mouse scurrying around your kitchen. Could you hear my screams all over the planet?
Once, the mouse vanished down its favorite escape hatch, I decided to examine the situation. I remembered an experience in my London flat in 1972, where a bird flew into our window. Again, my girlie roommates and I were screaming, jumping behind the couch in a total panic. What is so interesting is the fact that I have had a life long love of birds. I have 4 of them now flying around my house. The key difference is they are completely mellow.
The moral to this story is the possibility that fear spreads faster than a wild fire. If I had seen this morning's mouse tucked away, sleeping in someone's hand, I'd probably want to pet it. The fear in the trapped bird and the tiny mouse is what got me screaming and acting like a lunatic.
Fear might just infect human to human relationships, as well. Just in case, it is probably best to surround ourselves with upbeat, confident folks and hopefully their positive energy will launch our own confident, upbeat path in this world.