Inner Depth

 

In the first half of life, we cannot work with the imperfect, nor can we accept the tragic sense of life, which finally means that we cannot love anything or anyone at any depth.

Richard Rohr, Falling Upward

There are so many surprises on this journey into older age.  While on the outside I look my 61 years, on the inside I don’t feel that much different than I did at 30.  At the core, I feel myself to be the same.  Only now, I know myself with more depth, understanding, and compassion. There was so much more under the surface than I could have imagined back then when the world and people seemed comprehensible. Because at 30 I was just starting to dip into the mystery and wonder of the innermost self - a slow and wild journey of self-discovery that continues – I could not see the depth possibilities in myself or in others.

I used to think I could read people well.  By their appearances and after only a few conversations I could put them in a box of friend or not friend, good or bad, smart or dull, young or old. People and relationships made sense but this was only because my experience of myself was so unidimensional. 

I used to feel so surprised and disappointed when friendships turned from sweet to struggle wondering why the affection was lost. It takes spiritual maturity, psychological growth to understand that this is just part of what it is like to be in relationship with anybody.  At first, in our delight with meeting a new friend we put our best selves forward and it is easy to do this.  And we project onto the other a perfection that we long for to know we are loveable.  But this is only the outer veneer which inevitably wears thin in the weather of true relationship as our deeper parts inevitably come to be expressed.  Only by spending time in these darker wilder places of friendship can we touch intimacy.  It may not be possible for friendships to endure in these darker places, but this only makes them more real.

As I come to know my own inner paradoxes and irrationality, I no longer strive so hard for or require understanding of another as much as I desire presence. Being open, curious, and if not nonjudgmental at least conscious of my judgements and desirous to know what keeps me from connection and generosity.  The image I have of this is a beautiful still and cool lake that we are all floating in together but apart, held by the same great spirit that connects us despite what we are doing on the surface of things and which is the true source of our loving.