The Constellation Learning Newsletter
November 2006

Ever feel like you’re so different now than you were when you were a kid? I know I do. I’m so much more… well, grown-up, mature, wise… something…hell, maybe I’m just plain older.

I mean, we don’t stay the same, do we? And why would we want to? Remember your high school years? Were they “glory” days or “gory” days?

Guess it all depends on how you look at it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you haven’t tuned in to my new internet radio show
“Synthology: Spiritual Wholeness for Life” on Voice America’s 7th Wave Network, click the link below for access to the archives.

Synthology Archives

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Monthly Message ~

“It is sad to grow old, but nice to ripen.”

-- Brigitte Bardo

I attended my 35th High School class reunion on September 23, 2006. Just over a month ago. Yep. That’s 35. Over half my life time ago. How swiftly fly the years?

My son, Andrew, now twenty-two and on his own, happened to be moving to San Diego on Monday September 25th and so I had already planned to spend that weekend in Baltimore, my former home town, so that I could be there to send him on his way.

To be honest, I came close to not going to the reunion. Originally, we were to have gathered in June and then the date was moved to September on the aforementioned meaningful weekend - so I figured the universe was nudging me in the direction of reacquainting myself with a piece of my past and reconnecting with those who shared it with me.

I hadn’t seen many of these women in many years; I graduated St. Paul’s School for Girls in 1971. Some I called friends; most were simply people with whom I shared my daily school based rituals: sports teams, classes, clubs, and assemblies. But I knew them all, there being only thirty-two in my graduating class, and spent eight years with most of them.

Those eight years, between 5th and 12th grade, are as formative in a young person’s life as early childhood, imprinting - and generally cementing - one’s self-identity. Though a class leader with honor roll grades and varsity sports involvement, I remember feeling insecure most of the time. I remember not feeling like I was in the in-crowd. Others were, but not me. I remember comparing myself to other girls, prettier girls, smarter girls, more popular or witty girls. I remember selling out by agreeing to go to the prom with the object of one of my very best friend’s affection. He asked me and I wanted to go. I could have said no, knowing Molly had a crush on him, but I didn’t. I traded trust for temporary inclusion.

Funny what time does to the lenses we use to examine our lives; it distorts as well as crystallizes.

I ended up going to the reunion. And it was a wonderful evening, though Molly couldn’t be there. And I got my yearbook back; it had somehow gone home with a classmate who returned it 20 years later. Several people who hadn’t written in it years before did so that night. When I got back to my son’s place at the end of the evening I spent nearly two hours going through my yearbook, page by page, reviewing what had once been so important to me and reading what my friends had written to me. Seems they saw me in a different light: They saw in me the qualities I didn’t yet see in myself. A humbling experience those two hours proved to be. I was overwhelmed by what I read.

From Psychologist James Hillman: “It is said that the seeds of our authentic self, the person we yearn to become, are to be found in the simplest, everyday acts and the natural easy stuff of our childhood.” He describes what he calls his “acorn theory” in The Soul’s Code: in the acorn lies the DNA of the future oak. It may not look that way to the naked eye, but somehow the acorn knows itself to be an oak, not an elm or maple, and grows to become one. Hillman states, “The acorn theory proposes and I will bring evidence for the claim that you and I and every single person is born with a defining image …You are that essential image that develops, if it does. As Picasso said, ‘I don’t develop; I am.’”

I get it now: I was who I am now even then, I just didn’t know it. Perhaps, as is the case for all of us, the greatest challenge of our lives is simply to remember who we really are, who we came here to be and to grow into the oak we really are.

On a lighter note, Lady Astor once remarked that “I refuse to admit that I am more than 52, even if that makes my children illegitimate.”

Well, I was born in 1953 and I turn fifty-three in a few days. I am proud and grateful to have survived that long. On Wednesday, November 1st, I am driving to the airport to pick up one of my oldest, dearest friends from those years. She e-mailed me last month and asked to come to visit after too long an absence. My friend Molly is flying in from the States to help me celebrate my newest wrinkles.

Yep, I’m with Brigitte. To ripen is better than youth ever was with all its short-sighted solutions and insecurities.

Would have liked her legs, though.

Application Tips:

• Pick One Thing
  The more we ignore the things and activities that feed our sense of self, the less self we have available to contribute to our jobs and relationships. Replenishment is not a reward or a luxury; it is a necessity. Pick one thing from your dreams list and commit to accomplishing it within the year. One thing. Do it and reclaim your self.

See our Newsletter Archives