Beech Tree News Network

I grew up in a world where nobody was satisfied with anything, and your best was never good enough.  That kind of atmosphere produces shame.  Shame is a very powerful emotion.  It is not the same as embarrassment, which is temporary.  Shame goes much deeper, because it starts much earlier.  It is taught.  It is caught from those around you.  Shame hides, and at the same time, it becomes a braggart.  Shame causes you to be shy then spins you around so that you become a show-off.  The braggart and the show-off are both the result of the self trying to break free of shame, but ultimately over-correcting and crashing into the tree on the other side of the road.

Shame can invade an entire family, even an entire nation—the Third Reich, slavery, annihilation of indigenous peoples.  Shame enters through a hole in the fence made by accusation, comparison, rejection, even reflection.  It sets up house.  It is a difficult tenant to evict.  It reminds you of your inadequacies on a daily basis.

Recently, Garey and I were talking about the difference we noticed, when on vacation, between the expectations of the average American and the expectations of the average Irishman.  I’m speaking in general terms, there is always an exception to the rule.  On our trip to Ireland in July, there just seemed to be more general contentment in the people we met.  Pat O’Reilly, the man I wrote about in my last column, who lived in the city and didn’t own a car, spent most of our conversation telling us about his family.  He showed me a video of his daughter teaching her Autistic son the alphabet.  “He’s going to be alright,” he said, smiling.  (Of course, he’s going to be alright.  With a grandfather like Pat, how could he not be.)  Before we interrupted him, Pat was spending a Saturday afternoon at the pub, having a pint and watching horse racing on TV.  He is happy with his life.

The difference between Pat and the average Joe in our country is the striving factor.  We seem to always be striving toward more. We are expected to do better than our parents did.  Our nation’s mantra is, do more, be more, get more.  If you can’t keep up, you feel as if there is something wrong with you.  The challenge is to not let the faster, stronger, wealthier, more talented negate your own offering to the life you share with those around you, and the bottom line is, the responsibility for respecting your offering lies mostly on your own shoulders.

Every time I read a Rick Bragg column in Southern Living or finish one of Louise Erdrige’s books, I’m tempted to ask, “Why do I bother?”  I will probably never write on that caliber.  I have to remind myself, however, to make sure to continue to give my offering, my widow’s mite.  That is my responsibility.

I’m sure you’ve heard about the Butterfly Effect, but on the off chance that you haven’t, I’ll break it down for you.  It is a concept put forth by the mathematician and meteorologist, Edward Norton Lorenze.  “He noted that the butterfly effect is derived from the metaphorical example of the details of a tornado…being influenced by minor perturbations such as a distant butterfly flapping its wings several weeks earlier” (Wikipedia.org).

Recently, I took a picture of my small patch of Zinnias being visited by a couple of butterflies.  I hesitated to post the picture on fb, because my friends have posted pictures of their own beautiful flower gardens, and my flowers pale in comparison.  We’re all flapping our wings, however.  We’re all causing things to happen.  It sounds strange to say, but it takes real effort to be content, but I believe it’s worth the effort.  I posted my picture.