Being with My People

Throughout my life, I've done most things alone: not by choice, but by default. Usually it was because I wanted to pursue something that no one else had much interest in.

About eight years ago I decided to take up the accordion. (Spare me the accordion jokes. I've heard them all.) For the most part, I am self taught (oh, the horror) and play alone, unless D talks me into playing out in public with him. When I bought my first new accordion a few years later, a friend told me about an annual accordion and concertina festival in western Massachusetts. D insisted that we go.

It was late September. We got lost trying to find Bucksteep Manor, the home of the Northeast Squeeze-In. (I don't make this stuff up!) Even the local police and mail carriers in Washington, MA couldn't help us. No one seemed to know that there was an accordion festival in town. (It's odd that such a boisterous instrument tends to be played by introverts who don't want you to know where they are.) Finally, we found someone who told us that the entrance to Bucksteep would be on our right, when we came to a flat-roofed church.

We finally arrived at the winding driveway of the campgrounds, and followed it uphill, approaching the main lodge from the side. It wasn't until we came around the corner that we saw the wide front porch, spilling over with close to a hundred accordion players. (Scared yet?)

Though strangers all, it was easy to fall into a comfort zone with one another based on our shared love of the accordion and the desire to play together; which we did in small groups and workshops, culminating in an all-accordion orchestra piece we played at the Saturday night concert.

D has never let me forget what came out of my mouth that day. I swear it came directly from my unconscious and shot out my mouth with no editing:

"I'm with my people!"

You see, no matter how self-directed and self-sufficient a person is, each of us needs to make connections. It's relationships that validate us. It's relationships that make us feel cared about. It's relationships that make us whole. It's relationships that keep us sane. (Well, sometimes they make us crazy, I'll admit.)

Since moving to Maine, making connections has been a lot of hard work. No one has come knocking at my door to say "be my friend." All the legwork's been on my part, and sometimes it's exhausting. But it is necessary. I have no tolerance for people who say, "I have no friends." That's a statement usually made by people who think relationships fall into your lap. They don't. You must seek them out. Sometimes you'll be rejected. But it's so important to your mental health that you must keep trying.

A year later, I returned to the Squeeze-In and won the limerick contest. A small tribute to connections,my poem goes like this:

If you're looking for reeds by the heap-full,
Come to Bucksteep, with chapel, no steeple,
With each pull and each squeeze,
You can play all you please,
And best of all, be with your people.




copyright 2008 starfishdoc



Here's a picture of my favorite accordion.

A Lesson in Humility from Hussey's

Last night I climbed into the driver's seat of some stranger's car.

It started out this way. Here it is mid-January, and every calendar in the house reads December 2007. I was becoming increasingly disoriented, nearly missing a professional breakfast meeting at which I was the featured speaker! Enough! I became a soldier on a mission.

I've been hooked on those beautiful poster calendars for years now. You know, the ones that have a single poster for each month that you hang in a box frame like a painting. So the free calendar from Hussey's General Store that reads, "If we ain't got it, you don't need it," and advertises their three top selling items - guns, wedding gowns, cold beer - just wasn't up to my refined (read "uppity") taste. So off to the upscale gift shop I went, with not a moment to spare before closing time.

I made it into the shop with five minutes left to closing and made my purchases. Mission accomplished. I had to step into a 3-foot snow bank to get from the sidewalk back out to my car. So intent was I on maneuvering through the snow, that I turned right instead of left, and got into the car in front of mine. (In my defense, they were both Subarus and both black.)

Although I sensed something was wrong, I didn't reach the right conclusion immediately. First, I noticed the smell. Every person's car has a unique scent: a mix of how much new car smell is left, and the driver's personal habits. Also, the seat was out of position. Next, I went to place my purchase on the passenger seat, and found that the seat was piled with stuff. I tend to keep my car free of clutter. And of course, at that point I began to realize that the "stuff" wasn't mine! But you know, even then I came to the wrong conclusion: I thought someone else had been in my car, not the reverse.

Finally, just as I was trying to put the key into the ignition, and realized the ignition had moved, I had that flash of true insight. It was followed by horror as I thought someone who knew I was not the owner of this car might think I was stealing it. (I don't want to make Maine sound like the wild west, but lots of people have gun racks around here, and taking justice into one's own hands is not out of the question.)

I must say, I jumped out of that car like my pants were on fire. And that's when I had the biggest shock. Taking up the back seat of the car I tried to hijack was a substantial German Shepherd! That dog never made a sound during my invasion. And good thing: I'm sure I would have fainted on the spot.

So, I'm left with some questions as a result of this event and a final concluding thought.

First, how unusual is it for people to get into the wrong car? Should I start packing my bags for a move to assisted care?

Second, isn't it amazing how much a car will tell you about a person? Maybe therapy sessions should be conducted there.

Third, did the owner find any traces of me? I hope not. There's no worse feeling than that sense of violation when someone has entered your personal space without permission.

And my final thought. There's a lot to learn at Hussey's, like, "If they ain't got it, I don't need it." Now pass me a cold beer.

copyright starfishdoc 2008

Part III: Projection - One Way Shadow Reveals Itself

I found myself muttering the other day, complaining to myself about a certain friend. We go back a long way, she and I. Throughout the friendship, I've harbored this little grudge that I am always the one to reach out, always the first to call when months or years have passed between contacts.

In my muttering state, I found myself painting her in unattractive colors: "withholding," "unfeeling," "fair-weather," "controlling." I heard the voice inside my head vowing that this time I would not be the first to break the silence. Even if it drove me mad and no matter how long it took, I would just wait for her to contact me. My escalating and exaggerated feelings of anger and frustration suggested I might have some shadow work to do. It didn't take long for me to realize that in my refusal to reach out, I was demonstrating those very qualities I was accusing her of!

The above is an example of shadow revealing itself through "projection." Think of projection as a psychological dart game. There is some other person you are feeling excessively upset with. That person is the dart board. You are the one slinging the darts, and as you throw each dart you throw an accusation, like "withholding," "unfeeling." In terms of shadow, the darts are attached to you by an invisible rubber band. Those darts are aspects of you. If you have the courage to draw them back to yourself, you can use them to do some important self examination.

In my case, I thought about the negative qualities I had projected onto her that were really my own. Admitting that I had the capacity to be all those things actually gave me the freedom not to be. The awareness gave me the ability to act in a way that represents my better qualities instead.

So I just picked up the phone and gave her a call. We had a lovely, long chat, catching up on one another's lives. And best of all, I got to hear her say, "Oh, I've been thinking of you! How nice of you to call! I'm not as good at remembering to call as you are. I'm glad you don't hold that against me."

Next time you find yourself getting really worked up about someone else's faults, consider that it might be your shadow talking. Withdraw the projection, take a look at what you should own as parts of yourself, and let better parts take over. You will be rewarded.


copyright 2008 starfishdoc