I used to offer sage advice to many. I had wisdomy words for any spiritual crisis. I gave what I (and others) thought was good advice. I helped people think through their problems and offered sound counsel to help them rest assured that all would turn out well in their personal crises, that no matter what, their attitude was fully in their control.
I don't offer advise much anymore. At least, I don't think I do. Not like before, at least.
Maybe I don't exude the same "come sit at my feet as I impart great knowledge" aura I once did, if ever I did.
Maybe my friendship circles have shifted towards people who are fed up with hearing everyone else give them answers that seem not to quite fit their circumstances and therefore don't generally ask for input from others, including myself.
Maybe I hit a moment in life where I determined never again to presume to know what was going on in someone else's heart and mind and took it to the extreme of not counseling at all.
Maybe experience convinced me that I wasn't as smart as I thought.
Maybe I don't care as much anymore and am too wrapped up in myself to take the time for others.
Maybe I'm often so unsure of what I want for myself or where I'm going that I don't feel at liberty to dare point anyone else in any particular direction either.
Maybe I wanted to escape from the preachy mold I felt I was stuck in and which would certainly enslave me if I didn't free myself.
Maybe I see life as a balance of sorrow and joy, so I don't see much point in trying to assure people everything is OK, because it's not and probably never will be "all OK", and that is, paradoxically, OK (from the perspective that no matter how much there is to be sad about, you can always find something to be happy about, and neither the happiness nor the sadness should be ignored), but I think every person has to discover that for him- or herself.
Maybe all of the above are a little true.
In any case, I kind of miss seeing the peace in people's eyes after a good talk. I miss being that person people felt they could come to. I don't miss weird relationships where I was a crutch they couldn't seem to remove. I miss feeling like I was actually making a difference in individuals' lives and knowing that whether or not they would think back on our fun times they might at least think back to how I had helped them. I don't miss wondering how lasting a difference I could possibly have made since we didn't have a real, intimate friendship (always the counselor, never the friend). I miss feeling like I offered solid, objective observation that made choices more clear. I don't miss feeling like a preachy outsider looking in on the experiences of life everyone is having except me.
And it's way past my bedtime, and I don't know how all of this nebulosity is going to come across or whether it will sound more extreme than it really is. Yup, that pillow's looking mighty inviting right now.
2 comments:
While I was reading your blog entry I was trying to think of any advice you might have given mee. Couldn't think of any. Does that make mee more of a friend? I do recall spending time at your house watching movies...and one particularly entertaining New Years Eve...WOW...I think it was 2000-2001...where did the time go?
I don't know if you would count it or if you even remember, but I was (and still am) grateful for the counsel you gave me a couple weeks ago. You're the only friend I've had so far that seems to be on my side- and I think you know what I mean by that. I'm not as upset as I used to be about the usual nosy Mormon questions, but I still find great comfort in knowing that at least one friend "gets me". :)
Post a Comment