New Life Story Seeds # 2
Open Doors
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Dear Friends,
In this second issue of New Life Story Seeds, you’ll find a quotation from Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s meditation on life and her role as a woman, “Gift from the Sea.” I had only planned to send out the quotation and ten questions, but, well, things got out of hand, and I found myself wanting to know more about Lindbergh’s life and works. If you haven’t read her journals or literary works, you might be pleasantly surprised to find a rich source of inspiration and courage, a fascinating account of an adventurous and deeply-lived life.
Also included this week is a tasty tidbit of wit and wisdom circulating on the Internet. Addressed specifically to women, it captures the essence of living with gusto, no matter how long it takes us to “get it.”
As always, your writings, reactions, and feedback are welcomed. I love feedback, and am thrilled to be able to bring you this e-zine for your reading and writing delight. Contact me with suggestions for making it more useful and enjoyable.
More resources and links are coming soon to the website. Our aim is to make the site a resource center for various aspects of personal and spiritual growth, writing, reading, and thinking. Visit often, and watch for the free on-line workshop/discussion group coming soon. In a few days, you can find the first issue of New Life Story Seeds in the archives section at:
http://www.newlifestories.com/
Wishing you ever more deep, true, compassionate, and empowering stories,
Enjoy life, do Good Work, don’t forget to smell the daisies, and keep in touch,
Ellen Moore
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In This Issue:
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A Thoughtful Quotation
Juicy Questions
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Women and Mirrors
Gift Ideas
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A Thoughtful Quotation
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The signs that presage growth, so similar, it seems to me, to those in early adolescence: discontent, restlessness, doubt, despair, longing, are interpreted falsely as signs of decay. In youth one does not as often misinterpret the signs; one accepts them, quite rightly, as growing pains. One takes them seriously, listens to them, follows where they lead. One is afraid. Naturally. Who is not afraid of pure space -- that breath-taking empty space of an open door? But despite fear, one goes through to the room beyond.
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Gift from the Sea
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Juicy Questions
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What were your adolescent years like? How is your present life different from adolescence? In What ways is it similar? What is the effect of having had a "history" to fall back on, a track record of successes and having worked through a series of challenges?
Have you ever wondered if you were falling apart? Did you? Were your fears justified? What then? How has that period of your life led you to where you are today?
Where did we (as a culture) get the idea that we're not "supposed" to feel uncomfortable, ever? How has that idea affected you?
Have there been times in your life when you could feel change bubbling up from "beneath the surface" for no discernible reason? Could it be that at this very moment, you are experiencing portents and predictions of growth? What uncomfortable signs and signals of coming growth can you identify?
What is your "open door" today? What is your "room beyond?" How often in the past have you walked through open doors to rooms beyond? What does that process consist of? Does it get easier as you mature? Are there closed doors you may need to open?
What are your ways of listening to your discontents? What do they communicate to you? How could discontentment lead you forward to greater happiness?
In the past, how has your restlessness led you to try new things or strike out in new directions?
How has doubt been helpful to you in the past? How might it protect you in the future? What would your life be like without doubt?
If you were to "talk back" to despair, what would you tell it? What would it tell you? What effect would letting the feeling "have its say" have on you?
What are the deepest longings of your heart and soul? In what ways do you try to quiet that emotion with temporary “fixes” and “better than nothing” situations? How could intense longing motivate you in a way that mere wishing cannot? How can you tolerate longing in order to feel its richness and depth?
It has been said that "Everything we want lies behind a wall of fear." To what extent is that true for you? What is the difference between worrying and fearing the future versus planning and preparing? How do you keep yourself prepared without unnecessary ruminations?
In the past, have you ever been hurt by your unwillingness to acknowledge and pay attention to your fears? What has it cost you to deny fear or pretend it is not walking beside you?
How can you use the downhill momentum of negative emotions to lift you to higher planes? Have you ever found that low periods are naturally followed by more positive ones?
What would be the difference in your outlook if you labeled negative emotions "growing pains" rather than "obstacles" or "problems?"
How do you "sit with" painful emotions? How can you learn to tolerate their presence in order to accept the gifts they may be bringing you in disguise? What would happen if you would simply be open to experiencing discomfort for certain limited periods of time, then write about your reactions? What happens when you allow all the emotions to ebb away on their own account?
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Anne Morrow Lindbergh: A Great Story
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What should we know about a writer? What is the most important aspect of a writer’s legacy? Is it the work itself, or the life that is its context? Is it the “quality” of the work, or its effect on the hearts of its readers?
Born to wealth and privilege, Anne Morrow Lindbergh married “the most famous man in the world.” She survived tragedy and the unrelenting pressure of the press who hounded the family for years. Years of her life were spent in hiding and living out of suitcases while trying to elude the press and protect their five children from the glare of publicity.
Always a writer, Lindbergh was frustrated by never having enough time to write and think. “I found that my point of view was not unique,” wrote Lindbergh in the 1955 preface to “Gift from the Sea.” “In varying settings and under different forms, I discovered that many women, and men, too, were grappling with essentially the same questions as I, and were hungry to discuss and argue and hammer out possible answers. Even those whose lives had appeared to be ticking imperturbably under their smiling clock-faces were often trying, like me, to evolve another rhythm with more creative pauses in it, more adjustment to their individual needs, and new and more alive relationships to themselves as well as others.”
Inspired by Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, Lindbergh’s book was a meditation on her never-ending struggle to define herself as a woman, an individual, and a writer. Reflecting on restorative beach-combing experiences, she suggested that change be sought within, through contemplation, solitude, and self-renewal. Women, she said, cannot and should not depend on their husbands to fulfill all their emotional and intellectual needs. Dismissed by critics, Gift from the Sea nevertheless became an astonishing success, stayed on the bestseller list for nearly a year, sold millions of copies, and remains very popular today. A classic, it has been passed from hand to hand for years, and many reread the book regularly for inspiration and refreshment, and thousands of women say it has changed their lives.
Heartened by the enormous success of “Gift from the Sea,” Lindbergh published The Unicorn, a collection of lyric poems in 1957. The poetry editor of The Saturday Evening Review, John Ciardi, wrote a scathing review, calling her poetry “inept, jingling, slovenly, illiterate even and puffed up with the foolish afflatus of a stereotyped high-mindedness.” Hundreds of readers wrote to “The Saturday Review” to protest, and the debate became so intense that Norman Cousins, the then-editor of the “Review” wrote a public statement defending his decision not to fire Ciardi. What is so astounding is that one small volume of poems could inspire such a huge and heated debate.
In 1972, the first volume of diaries and letters was published—“Bring Me a Unicorn,” begun in 1922. The second volume, “Hour of Gold, Hour of Lead,” continues with preparations for her marriage in 1929, her joy at the birth of their first son, his tragic kidnapping and murder in 1932 (she was pregnant at the time), and ends shortly after the birth of their second son, Jon. “Locked Rooms and Open Doors” was followed by “The Flower and the Nettle.” The final volume, “War Within and Without” begins in 1939 and ends in October, 1944. Although she kept a diary well into her eighties, when she was disabled by a series of strokes, none of her diaries past 1944 have been published to date. In addition to the emotional experience of reading her intimate reflections, reading her diaries and letters allows an intimate glimpse of behind-the-scenes history, including many insightful word portraits of famous people.
Lindbergh’s writings have been enormously popular; however, except for the first two volumes of her published diaries and letters, her work has not been critically well-received. Both her life and her work have been the subject of much debate and controversy. Her writing has been called “treacly,” “sentimental,” and “full of romantic clichés” Some have speculated that because of her position as a public figure, she did not develop as an artist, was not given (or chose not to act on) honest feedback, and did not accept much-needed editing. Her life in the limelight and her time-consuming devotion to her husband seemed to have drained time and vitality from her growth as a serious artist.
Revolutionary and forward-thinking for her time, she yet seemed to have fallen into the cultural traps she sought to escape. Throughout her long and non-entirely-happy marriage, Lindbergh apparently remained overshadowed by her husband’s charismatic personality. Kathleen Leverich of The Christian Science Monitor noted that it was Charles who emerged as the central character in the diaries and letters, with Anne the devotee and acolyte. Others have said that she idealized her husband, mythologized him, and glossed over the difficulties in their marriage, creating a “heroic mask” for him. She herself has been called “arrogant,” “deeply self-centered,” “narcissistic,” and has been criticized for supporting her husband’s pro-Nazi sympathies and interests in eugenics.
In a 1993 biography (“Anne Morrow Lindbergh: A Gift for Life”), Dorothy Herrmann observed that “Anne’s commitment to her husband had profound ramifications for her writing. Unable to develop her own views independently, she remained so caught up in her desire to be a perfect wife and her need to find her own identity that her work became highly fragmented.” She had difficulty reconciling the burden of the care of five children left to her by her famous husband’s long and many absences. Ultimately, both the critics and Lindbergh herself seemed unable to separate her literary career from her marriage. Herrmann tactfully suggested that there were “many aspects of Mrs. Lindbergh’s life and literary career that she chose not to explore.”
“Women have served all these centuries as looking-glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size,” wrote Virginia Woolf in “A Room of One’s Own.” Ironically, Lindbergh seemed not to have assimilated the admonition of her role model, but remained subsumed in her husband’s brilliant glow, all the while struggling to find her own rightful place as a woman and an artist.
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A Personal Note
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In December, Susan Hertog’s new biography will appear—“Anne Morrow Lindbergh: Her Life.” Written over a ten-year period, the book is informed by ten interviews with Lindbergh herself. Susan Hertog is one of those women whose life was forever changed by reading Gift from the Sea, and she called Lindbergh a mentor and friend before she even met her. Read the widely-varying reviews at the Amazon site and make up your own mind. Me, I’m planning to order the book now at 30% discount and have the book delivered when it appears.
Reeve Lindbergh, the youngest daughter, has written a 1998 memoir (now out in paperback) entitled “Under a Wing.” It promises to be a thoughtful account of the strengths and weaknesses of this brilliant, complex, and very private family. I’ll start with Reeve’s memoir, then work my way back from the beginning of all five volumes of the diaries and letters. By that time, the new biography should arrive.
In reviewing these controversies and evaluations of Lindbergh’s work, I am struck by this very human need to look for flaws in our teachers. As I formulated the questions to go with her insightful meditation on spiritual growth, I remembered the many happy hours I have spent through the years reading and rereading her published journals and letters. I remember the strength and courage I “caught” from her writings. That her personal qualities may not have been congruent with her image of herself does not matter to me. I want to learn from this life, not judge it. I think of the words Rilke wrote to a young poet: “Do not believe that he who tries to comfort you lives unburdened among the simple and tranquil words that sometimes benefit you. His life has much toil and sorrow, and lags far behind his simple words. Were it otherwise, he could never have discovered these words.” Perhaps I can learn more from a flawed role model than a perfect one. Let the life lag behind the words as it will—just give me the words to cherish.
That Lindbergh was an exceptional and influential woman, highly evolved, educated, sensitive, and intelligent, there is no doubt. I find her writings to be warm, conflicted, real, rich, full of life, full of contradictions and paradoxes. I see her as human, large, imperfect. I can learn much from her works and from her life, and that’s enough for me. It’s a great story.
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Women and Mirrors
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Age 8: Looks at herself and sees Cinderella
Age 15: Looks at herself and sees Cinderella/Sleeping Beauty/Cheerleader.
Age 20: Looks at herself and sees too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly but decides she's going anyway.
Age 30: Looks at herself and sees too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly, decides she doesn't have time to fix it but she'll go.
Age 40: Looks at herself and sees too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly and says "at least I'm clean" and goes out.
Age 50: Looks at herself, says "I am" and goes wherever she wants to.
Age 60: Looks at herself and remembers all the people who can't even see themselves in the mirror anymore. Goes out and conquers.
Age 70: Looks at herself, sees wisdom and laughter, and goes out to enjoy life.
Age 80: Doesn't bother to look. Just puts on a red hat and goes out.
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Gift Suggestions
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What a treat! Imagine sending a basket or tote bag packed with a beautiful blank journal, Gift from the Sea, Kay Adams’ "Journal to the Self", and a volume or two by or about Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Add a few sea shells, bath salts, a fat vanilla candle, some scented oils, and wrap with crinkly iridescent wrap. A reminder to stop, relax, savor life, and unwind. A reminder to recapture that rhythm that nurtures growth and creativity. These books are only a click away from Amazon. (At our house, “Amazon” has become a verb).
And imagine packing such a gift for yourself! Then take the phone off the hook and enjoy.
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© Copyright Ellen Moore, Ph.D. 1999
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