Purpose
Sunday, April 06, 2003 -- 5:03pm
Posted by Bar


Some of you may be relieved to learn that Peter and I are finally getting
some counseling to help us sort out our grief and our marriage. To be
totally honest, the main reason for seeking help is that without Forrest
here (or any other children) we are both considerably more free to move on
in whatever direction we may want to go - together or apart. The thought of
moving on separately is very tempting because meeting someone new or
starting over somewhere else could at least temporarily make life more fun
and exciting again. At the same time, it's hard to imagine not having one
another to lean on when we understand each other's emotions better than
others might. Thankfully, Peter and I are close friends and both ultimately
want to be together, but nevertheless, the need for counseling is very much
there and we are grateful to have an opportunity to express ourselves with
an outside observer.

I tell you all of this because at the end of our session on Thursday night,
we had another ten minutes or so and had pretty much exhausted the subject
we'd spent most of the session on, so I asked if I could turn the table
around and ask the therapist a question. It was a question that had been on
my mind for weeks and I figured he was a good person to ask.

The question was, "do you think that it is possible for a person to
maintain sanity without a purpose in life?"

You can probably guess that the reason I have spent so much time on this
question recently is because my own purpose in life is very unclear to me,
and I have often felt like I might lose my mind in an attempt to figure out
my purpose. Sometimes I wish I were brave enough to breakdown completely,
but somehow I do not allow myself. As a result, I feel like my body is going
to force itself to breakdown so that I can get the full impact of my grief
right out on the table where it belongs. Monday I was so fragile that I
honestly thought that I might need to call our therapist and ask him to
commit me to some place where the staff would feed and bathe me. I can't
explain exactly why this madness and vulnerability sets in at any particular
moment, but I was beginning to suspect lack of purpose in my life as the
culprit for my desperation.

Anyway, our therapist had a great answer - the one that I had hoped for.
His answer was that, first of all, with regards to the words "purpose in
life", he would rather use the word `meaning', and that, `no', he thought
living life without meaning was very difficult indeed. His answer confirmed
my suspicion about my own frailty, and inspired me to think more clearly
about what my meaning for living might be.

When Forrest was here, being a mom was meaningful, purposeful, satisfying,
exciting, demanding, and not something I had time or inclination to think
about too much. Now I have all of the time in the world to think about
whatever I want to think about, while at the same time, I have loneliness
and nothing as great as being a mom to satisfy my heart. The void of meaning
IS enough to take me to the edge. And frankly, I suspect that's part of the
bigger meaning for why I'm in this situation to begin with, but that's
something I won't understand, if ever, until after I leave this world. In
the meantime, I have to, and want to, continue living a meaningful life.
Peter has the same problem and we are both deeply troubled and apathetic
about how to find meaning without Forrest here.

So today, I went out to see Forrest's grave, which is a beautiful place and
a place where I can talk out loud and not be overheard. The cemetery is
surrounded by mountains (which, if you can believe it, are covered with snow
again!) and is a really lovely place to go and think and talk to God or
whoever might be listening from the other side. I got to talking out loud
about `purpose' and `meaning' and I asked my self what my purpose is now (as
opposed to my meaning which I don't think I'll be able to know for a little
while longer.). The answer I gave my self was that my purpose in life was to
move people with my music and my writing in such a way that our lives are
both enriched. Seemed like a good answer. But when I thought about it for
one more moment it felt contrived. An agenda of "moving people" felt too
self-conscious and potentially manipulative. So where did that leave me?
When Forrest was here, I didn't think about my purpose - it just was. I was
a mom. My purpose involved taking care of Forrest's physical, spiritual and
emotional needs and keeping him safe in this world. My purpose was inherent
in the act of mothering. Now, I find that the choice to think about and
assign words to my purpose in life feels shallow. Which led me to realize
that I need to find peace in just being. I need to get to a place where I
can be satisfied with living honestly and allow for whatever response I get
from all of the people that I am in relationships with - positive and
negative. If my agenda, or my purpose, is to move people, it could easily
become dishonest, I suspect. On the other hand, if I create music that I
experience as beautiful, or write something that honestly represents my
thoughts, or if I converse with someone from my heart, the other person's
response will either be one of understanding or not. Either reaction is ok
as long as I am expressing myself with integrity.

So I guess my purpose in life is to be honest.

As for having meaning, I don't know when that will become clear. I hope
that it will come soon enough. Until then, honesty will have to do.

It's winter again here. Seems fitting given my state of introversion, but I
am looking forward to coming out, going out, getting warm and generally
unloading the burden.

Much love to you all,
Bar

On a more personal note
Wednesday, April 16, 2003 --  12:18pm
Posted by Bar


Can't help sending out this e-mail too just to let you know that the downs
of last week have evolved into spring this week and Peter and I are both
better for it. Thank you for your many notes of concern and advice and love.
Lots of you want me to hit pillows to release my despair/anger and I want
you to know that many feathers metaphorically flew last week and I'm better
for it today. And as for finding my purpose, well, let me only say that it
may take a while for me to feel like I want to get up every single day, but
in general I am very grateful to be alive and deeply grateful to have known
Forrest and for having you all along for the ride. It really has been an
incredible, dare I say, miraculous, time in my life. Thank you.

Enjoy this glorious weather.
Love,
bar

Slow Down
Wednesday, April 23, 2003 --  2:09pm
Posted by Bar


Since I wrote that e-mail about `purpose' a couple of weeks ago, I have
heard from a lot of you. The responses have ranged from explanation, to
advice, to compassion, to encouragement. Thank you all for giving me more to
think about.

I realized this morning after a night full of intense and powerful dreams
that `purpose' may not have been what I was really talking about when I
wrote that e-mail. The word `purpose' implies that I have to DO something or
Be someone and that I have to somehow define what that is or will be. Truth
is that what I'm really struggling with is the bigger question: "who am I?"
Now, I can practically hear some of you shaking your heads and thinking "Bar
needs to chill out!" and I promise you, you are right.

As I lay in bed sorting all of this out this morning, I said aloud to the
ears that hover in my bedroom's airspace: "My missing Forrest is an ache in
my heart that I can live with, but tell me, how am I supposed to know how to
live with my troubled brain?"

I'm constantly thinking about God and Art and Life and Religion and
Mysticism and the meaning behind Dreams and Love and Marriage and Sex and
Friendship and Music and Consciousness and Creativity and Who Am I Anyway?
and Why? and What's It All About, Alfie? I mean my head is ready to spin
right off its axis!

So, when someone says "I can't imagine how difficult it must be without
Forrest", my response could be: "You know, you're right, it's impossible to
imagine. I could not have imagined it and I don't know how to express it to
you. I mean, I can tell you about how lonely I am and how much I miss
Forrest and the way that he laughed or whatever, and I can tell you that my
sadness is the more manageable part of my life now, but I cannot explain how
heavy my thoughts are with all of the questions that are constantly forming
in my brain. I cannot express to you how insistent this mental work I have
to do is. Every question in the book is in my head and that's the hard part
that you can't imagine and that I can't explain." In other words, it's my
mind that's hard to Live with, not my hurting heart  - and that may be hard
to understand.

I had this perfect little teeny-weeny  dream at the end of a series of
intense dreams last night which pretty much summed-up my problem. I offer it
to you as a "thought for the day" and if you don't need the thought
yourself, please do take it upon yourself to remind me of it whenever you
see or write to me. (Thanks in advance).

The dream was this: I'm in my car speeding down Wittenberg Road in Mount
Tremper, NY, which is a beautiful rural mountain road. I'm going 55 in a 35
-mile per hour zone. I pass a cop. I know I'm going to get pulled over. The
message the cop gives me is:

"SLOW DOWN!"

...and of course, I've spent the morning trying to figure out what he meant
by that!

One of these days spring will actually come.

Soon enough.

Love,

Bar

PS I was heading east on Wittenberg Road in case you wondered.