U/B 4: Judgments shared are magic spells
Plus: The way out is through.
Here’s your weekly reminder to return to useful and beautiful thoughts.
Hi!
What did you think of last week’s letter about words being magic? Was it useful? Did you notice anyone speaking magic words or powerful incantations in the next few days?
If not, that’s ok. We’re just beginning this conversation, you and me. I invite you to let me light a spark in your darkness.
Ladies in waiting
I definitely noticed spells being cast this week.
On Tuesday, there were two women in the Cancer Center waiting room batting curses back and forth.
When I arrived, they were talking about somebody —
Note: When someone shares their judgment about what a person ought to do or be, that’s a spell.
— who is apparently a good christian woman (bless her heart) and brilliant but not thinking straight! I told her, I said ‘You need to take your dog to my vet in Beaufort’ but she says her vet is fine. I say her dog’s seizures say otherwise.
They talked about the hassle of going to the cancer center, that they seem to be taking long today, and they’re always backed up here, how the younger woman should go get the sandwich out of the car because of the mayonnaise, how it was cold, how they didn’t understand what these doctors think they’re gonna do anyway, and so on.
None of that was useful or beautiful1.
And look what I did just now. Did you notice? I cast a little spell.
I put my judgment on the women’s conversation and cast it into the world. Why? Because I want to help you see. That kind of talk breeds contempt, entitlement, righteousness, and other five-dollar words.
What might I have done in that waiting room? Cast my own spell? Say what, though? I couldn’t help but overhear. I wondered if you’d considered that the dog mom is living life according to her own terms and it’s not your place to judge her? That’s probably not useful, butting my head in.
How many times have you bit your tongue? Silence is an easy route. I could have said nothing, not made any particular difference.
NOTE: When I say “made a difference,” I don’t mean that actions must be deeply meaningful to make a difference. Humans make things different — cause change — wherever we go. I believe it is good to be intentional (my first personal commitment) and aim to make a positive difference.
So, when my name was called, I stood up and I remarked, What a beautiful day to be ALIVE!
Ok, that’s not true.
But wouldn’t that have been amazing! Next time. Maybe.
In reality, I nodded, said, Have a nice day, then walked out the door.
Which is better than silence.
Going through
Speaking of last week’s letter… I alluded to 2023 as a Balrog that caused me to level up from grey-wizard Kate to white-wizard Kate. Being laid off, then choosing independent work, then getting cancer were parts of a fear demon that I had to battle in order to emerge transformed.
Of course it’s not as simple as that.
I’m still in it. Part of me wants to be done because… well, hard stuff is hard. But the conscious, intentional part of me is thankful for the opportunity to learn and grow.
Earlier this week I was meeting with my coach, John, about something else entirely2 when he reminded me of a passage in the Divine Comedy. Dante asks his guide, Virgil, how they can get out of their horrible situation.
Virgil replies, The way out is through.
There are numerous examples of this sentiment in art and literature.
The poet Robert Frost wrote, The best way out is always through.3
The stoic Marcus Aurelius wrote, What stands in the way becomes the way.4
Author Ryan Holiday (contemporary stoicism), wrote a book called The Obstacle is the Way.
Honoring my spooky side, I’ll even mention there’s a Nine Inch Nails song titled The way out is through.
And anyone familiar with Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s journey can probably name dozens more.
What’s your favorite example? Will you share it?
Last night as my husband and I were getting ready for bed, he commented on the 17 green lines and crosshairs drawn on my torso for my radiation treatment that started this week.
Sometimes I forget you’re still going through it, he says, pulling me closer. I broke into tears, exhausted by my situation, grateful for his support.
Personal growth and transformation is lonely. Going through is lonely. But I’m not alone.
This morning I realized I’d ignored that about the two ladies in the waiting room. Grumpy as they were, at least they had each other.
That’s it for today.
It means the world to me that you read my work.
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Thank you for being here.
Love,
Kate
p.s. If you want to read more about how I am managing “going through”, check out these past letters:
Sept 19, 2023 - I decided this was the title: Making the decision to write about leadership, cancer, or possibly frogs
November 30, 2023 - It's happening for me, not to me. I reject being a victim.
On second thought, getting the mayonnaise sandwich out of the car was indeed useful.
My coach and I been discussing how to create (not find) clients for my consulting work. Rather than going outside, meeting new people, I could go through. Start where I already am. Do you know anyone who could use a big picture strategic thinking partner? Please send them my way. Thank you.
Robert Frost, A Servant to Servants, https://www.poetryverse.com/robert-frost-poems/a-servant-to-servants
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, book 5.20, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meditations
If you’re going through hell, keep going. - Winston Churchill