The love of my life, Karen, has been reading The Paris Wife: A Novel by Paula McLain. In the following passage, Hadley Richardson Hemingway refers to her second husband, Paul, and fishing. The other fellow she mentions, Chink, was a wartime friend of Ernest’s with whom Ernest and Hadley traveled in the 1920’s:

“Late that afternoon, Paul and I took the long way to the stream and dropped our lines in just as the insects began to swarm and the light began to change. It was our favorite part of the day, this in-between time, and it always seemed to last longer than it should – a magic and lavender space unpinned from the hours around it, between worlds. I held my reel and felt the line list, and was back in Cologne with Ernest and Chink.  Back at my first fish, knowing there wouldn’t be any fish without this one, and no love without the first one either” (p. 313).

As you may know from reading what I have posted over the past few months, this magic time of special light toward the end of the day is my favorite part of the day. The light feels just right to me at around four or five o’clock in the afternoon for most of the year. Borrowing Hadley Richardson Hemingway’s voice, it’s a time “between worlds” that, as she says, is “a magic and lavender space unpinned from the hours around it.”

This magic time of mine truly feels “unpinned” from other times in my day, and from other times in my life. At this time of my life, everything that I see or hear feels very separate from what’s come just before or, perhaps, what has happened many years before. And, also, I realize that in this time of my day, I see and hear all that’s come in earlier hours – with great clarity. With a grateful heart, I know: this time is lasting longer than it should.  

It was such a blessing to have recently celebrated my 78^th birthday with a clear head and a body that – although packed with a rich and challenging health history – is able to appreciate the unpinned, between-worlds, nature of this moment in time. I’m so very fortunate. I do not know how long this time will last; however, I know that I will cherish every moment of this magic time, this sweet time – while it does.

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What is your favorite time of the day?

Why is that time different from the rest of the day for you?

In what ways is that special time of yours “between worlds?”

There are some lines in the blessing-poem, “I AM NOT NEEDED THERE … FIRE, GIVE ME FIRE!” by Clarissa Pinkola Estés that fit me perfectly: “There are enough scholars… I am not needed there” and “There are so many beautiful singers… I am not needed there either…”.  Like this poet, there are so many life stations where I’m not needed, or more to the point, for which I am not suited: novelist, athlete, scientist, musician, architect, technician, physician, artisan, and others. If I were completing a talent survey, I’d be checking “no” quite often. The experience would be humbling, to say the least.

Dr. E, as she wishes to be known, shares many of the stations of life where she is not needed, and then brilliantly describes the activity of “stone sharpening” that brings her alive. With great precision, she describes her gift.

Through her blessing-poem, Dr. E has invited me to ask of myself: What is the gift that is mine to give? With a bit more precision, I ask these two questions of myself:

1.                         What am I genuinely passionate about, at this very time in my life?

2.                         And, therefore, where am I needed just because of who I am?  

I’ve always been a good listener. I’ve never been one who was eager to make a point, or have my say. I listen carefully, and I hope, thoughtfully. It seems to me that attentive listening is something that the world needs now. That kind of listener is who I am; so probably, I am needed there.  Also, I am an enthusiastic person. Once, someone posted a sign outside my office door that announced: “Alert! David sometimes erupts into sudden bursts of enthusiasm. Beware!” Although some people may see these two qualities or gifts as quite a contrast, they both seem to live alongside in me.

However, there is also one other response yearning to be expressed. Without a doubt, I am an optimist, and probably, an idealist. My wife, Karen, once gave me a cap that declares on its front: “Optimism Can Take You Anywhere.” It certainly can! And, therefore, I think that I was born to be an encourager. I can’t not encourage others; I’m always optimistic about their potential. The role model for my writing, Carl Sandburg, is known to have told his best friends: “I may keep this boyheart of mine… I am an idealist.” Me too! And so, I am a deep listener, an enthusiastic person, an optimist, and an encourager. I feel that these are the gifts that are mine to give.

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How about you: What are the gifts that you have to give?

I have long been enamored with an African tale about unique identity, which speaks to my wondering from the previous post about why authenticity is thought of by many folks to be reserved for the elderly.

Instead, this story asks us to consider the possibility that we’re always – no matter what our age – invited to fully live our unique identities, to sing our true songs. At all stages of life, we’re always able to be who we are.   

There is a tribe in Africa where a child’s birth is considered to be that moment when the mother first knows that she wants a child. At that time, the mother goes into the wilderness, sits under a tree, and listens carefully for the song of the child who wants to come. She then returns to her village and teaches the song to the man who will become the child’s father.  As they make love to conceive this child, they together also sing the child’s song to invite him or her into the world.

When the child is born, the midwives sing the child’s song to welcome it.  The community also sings the child’s song in celebration. The child’s song is sung often as he or she makes their way to adulthood – for example at times of passage such as initiation into adulthood or marriage or death.  The child’s song is also sung to honor her for wonderful acts, or to console him, or even if the person commits an anti-social act against another or the community. Everyone knows that such anti-social behavior or crime represents a straying from one’s true identity.  So, punishment is not called for at the time of a problem. Rather, singing the person his or her song brings the child home.

What is my song? What is my truest nature? When am I able to hear my song?