 “Night is drawing nigh.
For all that has been-Thanks! To all that shall be-Yes!” At the end of 1952, Dag Hammarskjold was at crossroads. The dutiful son of Hjalmar Hammarskjold, the Prime Minister of Sweden, Hammarskiold had taken an ambitious career path but had often found himself unfulfilled and overburdened. For many years he had written down the insights and challenges of his life (his Markings), and these writings unveiled a man torn between doing his duty and personal despair. But something changed in the beginning of 1953, when Hammarskjold wrote the above phrase and an affirming tone took hold. What happened? Hammarskjold later wrote: “I don’t know Who-or what-put the question, I don’t know when it was put. I don’t even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone--or Something--and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self surrender, had a goal.” And the rest was indeed history. Hammarskjold became one of the great peacemakers of the 20th Century, a one-of-a-kind man of tireless action amidst perceptive contemplation. Later in 1953 he became Secretary-General of the United Nations, and soon after his election he wrote: “To be free, to be able to stand up and leave everything behind, without looking back. To say Yes.....” Ah, Yes. Yes means I’m in. Bring it on. An assent and an affirmation. It means I’ll cross the Rubicon, saying no to going back. It means I’ll climb the mountain, assessing the risks but moving ahead. Yes is thrilling but also challenging; unfortunately, often too challenging for me. Fears of failure and desires for control make me more of a no guy, knowing much more of what I don’t want to do than what I do. And even when I do want to pull the trigger my no’s morph into maybe’s, a paralyzing assessment of all options which often leaves me stuck in the middle. But I deeply want to be a yes guy, and Dag has much to teach me. With my fears I need motivation to say yes, and the fact that my night is drawing nigh (I’m 59) means time is of the essence. And although regret over my life of no’s can distract me, I can give Thanks over what has been and how God can turn into what will be. And as Hammarskjold emphasized, Yes doesn’t come in a vacuum, it is said to Someone or Something. Yes to God, the ultimate Someone. Yes to myself, and what I can be. Yes to life, in all its dimensions. Yes to surrender--of self--to life. Yes to suffering, Yes to death, Yes to now. And even Yes to No. When reading through Hammarskjold’s spiritual classic Markings, you find the Dag Yes not based on some vapid positive thinking but grounded in the challenging realities of life and growth. “You cannot play with the animal in you without becoming wholly animal, play with falsehood without forfeiting your right to truth, play with cruelty without losing your sensitivity of mind. He who wants to keep his garden tidy does not reserve a plot for weeds.” Hammarskjold earned his Yes’s in life and death: recently the UN decided to reopen an investigation of the tragic air crash in 1961 that took his life on a peacekeeping mission to Zambia (then Northern Rhodesia). He who became “certain that existence is meaningful” lived an amazingly meaningful life, a life of Yes to life’s challenges and fullness. “You dare your Yes --and experience a meaning. You repeat your Yes--and all things acquire a meaning. When everything has a meaning, how can you live anything but a Yes?”  A story in the news recently describes a confrontation at Marcy’s Diner in Portland, Maine between an irate owner and the parents of a two year old who had purportedly been crying for 40 minutes. We read the owner Darla Neugebauer “slammed both hands on the counter and then pointed at the child and said ‘this has got to stop! Oh and then the mother screamed at me because I was yelling at her child.’ ”
After Jen and Jack Wolkon posted a complaint on the diner’s Facebook page, a “social media firestorm” erupted with more than two-and-a-half million people commenting on the couple’s post. As can be imagined, sides were drawn with many decrying the sense of modern entitlement showed by the negligent parents and others horrified by the insensitivity of the owner. As I got past the titillation of another media-fueled imbroglio, I started thinking about Darla and the decision she made about confronting the parents. Why did she wait 40 minutes and why did she finally decide to act? For that matter, what is behind any of our decisions to bring up a sensitive matter or leave it alone? Relationships are complex but certainly have to do with communication and decisions about when, where and how to communicate. Some of these decisions are straightforward; others, especially those involving challenging emotions--aren’t. It’s relatively easy to tell your spouse they have a smudge on their collar--much harder to bring up a simmering slight from last week. Is there a perfect time to bring up imperfect stuff? Hardly. Part of it is the variables involved: personalities, timing, what is discussed etc. And part of it for me is imperfectly navigating through the voices in my head careening from “sharing is always better” to “better left unsaid.” As a child of the 60’s and 70’s I’ve internalized the mantra of “letting it all out,” with intimacy the overarching goal and the enemy hidden emotions that don’t reveal my “true self.” Certainly all of us have experienced times when frozen feelings have crippled our relationships when one or both lost the courage to bring up something important. But “getting it all out” has its challenges too. Much too often the repercussions of my harsh words lasted longer than the emotions of the moment. And yes, there is such a thing as “oversharing.” I read recently where the famous Russian writer Leo Tolstoy decided to tell his teenage fiancee all the details of his sexual past to somehow draw closer only to have it backfire when the seeds of mistrust embittered the relationship for decades. Finding the balance between sharing and not sharing is obviously challenging. What does seem to be true is the existence of a tipping point, a point where not talking about something harms the relationship. I think people intuitively know when that point is, but sometimes suppress this knowledge because of the challenges involved. Some of those challenges include sorting through our motivations in communicating. Is it anger, which could lead to sharing too much, too soon or too little, too late depending on the preferred punishment of attacking or withdrawing? Is it laziness, where we sense something needs to be said or done but don’t because of habit? Is it fear, where the harsh responses of our partner wear us down into avoiding any conflict? On the opposite side of defending, attacking, or avoiding is love, where the commitment to the relationship and the beloved trumps other concerns. An issue is brought up when either party senses a breach and wants to rectify it. The tipping point is known and respected--both also have the self-control to know when slights can be tolerated. And when the relationship does get off track, this is recognized and faced and the possibility of counseling is considered. All of us weave our way in and out of love in our relationships but can keep it as an ideal. Staying present with each other can be tough but essential, and knowing when and how to bring up what needs to be brought up is a creative challenge healthy relationships must embrace. |
RICK GRANTI am a psychotherapist and freelance writer with a background as a professional athlete (tennis). My studies and background with Pastoral Counseling reveal an interest in both spirituality and psychology. I am the author of “INSPIRED: Churches of Seattle” and have written dozens of magazine articles (including a few for the Wittenberg Door). My wife Hattie and I together have 3 children and 7 grandchildren. Archives
May 2020
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