my clan

In the process of disappearing, perhaps it's odd to discuss my history. This is a story, however, of discovering who I am through discerning what I'm not. For my sister's 50th birthday a week or so ago, I travelled via Montreal (retrieving my eldest niece, Alex) to Port Hope, Ontario. There was to be a gathering of the clan on Saturday, July 12th to celebrate Corry continuing to come into her own as she rounds the bend of the second half of her life.

The day before my departure I phoned my father. I wanted to know if he was okay with me storing a few belongings in his basement. Our conversation flowed into his curiosity about our future plans. I giggled nervously, admitted that Bradford and I did not yet know where we were headed after the closing of our home sale mid-August. I say 'nervously' because it's always been a bit edgy revealing to my father, in particular, that I don't know what I'm doing with my life. Much of the father-child relationship can be shaped around security, stability, and good planning and execution.

My dad surprised me with the sound of genuine delight in his voice; he reported that he was rather charmed by our unfolding adventure and that, given another opportunity to be middle-aged, he would feel drawn to a similar path. Tears filled my eyes. Once more I was humbled by the quality of unconditional acceptance that my parents have consistently offered me as a human discovering my way through Life. I know from my work as a counselor and from conversations with friends that not everyone is blessed with parents who are curious about their child as a separate and unique individual rather than hold expectations for them as an extension of their own personhood. A conversation with my mother earlier this year yielded a similar message: "Martha, you gotta know that I have no attachment to telling people that my daughter is a psychotherapist. I'm just happy that you're my daughter."

My clan is small. A mother. A father and his wonderful wife, Jean. Two older sisters and their offspring. Connections with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents were cut short likely because my clan is/was nomadic. My sisters Jane and Corry have certainly been more steadfast geographically as adults than I have but I sense in them also a certain appetite for growing, evolving, change, and shedding skins. I had a brother who lived for a time in a re-outfitted school bus as well as camped out of his pickup truck with 2 dogs for years. He, like me, like my sisters, like my parents - he embodied the appetite for experiencing life, discovering adventure both within himself and outside his body.

I'm lucky. I'm very, very lucky. While convention impresses on us to stabilize, root, and settle down, the members of my clan find ways to push back in obvious and not-so-obvious ways. My father digests massive amounts of complex material on world economics, climate change, history, and cosmology and integrates it into profoundly insightful documents on how humans must re-vision their ways of being in the world. My mother dedicates herself to practices which keep her body, heart, and soul enlivened and growing through writing, loving, and dipping her body into deep, cold waters. Through their parenting and their professional paths, both Jane and Corry embody a pioneering spirit which holds possibility at its heart, even while they occasionally bump up against their own self-doubts and disappointments. Really remarkable beings.

So this is where I came from. I don't know where I'm going but I believe that it's a place too narrow for falseness and too clear for convention. The first half of my life I was all about becoming. The second shall be about shedding. My clan lights me in such a way that I can travel through small, dark places with no knowledge of my destination.

WebRep

currentVote

noRating

noWeight