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The Universe Within by Gwen Randall-Young
My paternal grandmother lived in Toronto. She did not like to travel, so only came out west once, that I remember. As such, I saw her only a few times, when we traveled to Toronto.
It was an uncommon treat for her to have all of her children around. She wore her hair in a neat bun, and generally always had a touch of color on her cheeks.
What I remember most is that her face seemed to be perpetually beaming. She had four children, and no doubt had her fill of busy times. However, whenever we were together, it seemed to me that she breathed deeply, taking everything in and wanting to savor every moment. She could barely suppress giggles when she shared anecdotes about her children when they were small. I could see the joy in those memories. I knew life had not always been easy for her.
She had her share of sorrow and disappointment, and perhaps caused some for others as well. What brightened her days in those later years was, unquestionably, loving connection with family. Her greatest sorrows were around estranged relationships, even if she had initiated the disagreement or distancing.
Many years ago, I asked her to tell me as much as she could about her parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. I wanted some sense of what that side of the family tree looked like. She gave names and brief descriptions of my ancestors. Most of what I remember are descriptions of what they did, the kind of personality they had, and the nature of their relationships with one another. In every generation, it seemed, there was a falling out somewhere, with two individuals carrying their anger towards the other right up until their death - a tragedy of shared anguish, I thought.
It occurred to me that our lives are like an unfolding drama. We are both scriptwriter and cinematographer. While we cannot control the actions and reactions of all of the cast members, we are certainly in charge of scripting our own. We do not have to react impulsively, or in a way consistent with the expectations of others. We can choose the response that will create the outcome we desire. If someone upsets us, but we do not want conflict, then we find a non-confrontational way to deal with the situation. We make the relationship more important than the issue.
A scriptwriter never loses sight of the overall direction and outcome of the story, allowing a subplot to derail the narrative. It is up to us to decide the primary themes we wish to dominate our lives. If we are not sure what they are, we can simply ask ourselves how we would like to be remembered - then embrace those qualities in all we do.
As cinematographers, we can choose what scenes will be brought into focus, which will be recorded as close-ups, and which are best left on the editing floor. If we want a more calm, peaceful life, there are things we can do to create that. If we want deeper, more meaningful connections, it is up to us to initiate those.
Certainly, events and circumstances will occur in life, which we do not like, and would not commemorate, with photographs in the family album. Let them go. Do not add pages and pages of vivid detailed descriptions of perceived slights and injustices to your script, rehearsing them repeatedly. Edit. Each day we are creating the ‘movie’ we will likely re-play again and again once our energy for ‘doing life’ begins to run down.
Since it is something we will likely ‘watch’ over and over, it would be wise to include as much as possible that will bring smiles to our faces and warmth to our hearts.
Gwen Randall-Young is a psychotherapist and author of Dancing Soul: The Voice of Spirit Evolving and the audiocassette After Recess: A Calming Meditation for the Elementary School Classroom. Email: gwendall@shaw.ca.
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