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I've been playing with two-word combinations -
a verb and another word - and seeing how I can expand
on their meaning. The exercise has yielded some
short meditations based on the words. Obviously,
limiting a meditation to two words is a literary
gimmick, or at best a technique of discipline. But
such exercises can be the beginning of heightened
awareness.
Here are some examples; perhaps you can think of
more.
Stand up. We can stand up to something, for something,
against something. We can stand up and be counted.
Standing up gets us off our seat and gives us a
better view of things. If the Spirit moves us to
stand up in some situation, what’s holding
us back?
Shut up. This can seem to be an abrupt command.
Shut your mouth. Stop talking. But when do we need
to tell ourselves to shut up? One obvious time is
when we’re angry, and there’s lots of
motivation to keep silent then: not hurting others,
not giving vent to our emotions when a more conciliatory
approach may not only keep the peace but get better
results. But what about when we have something really
clever to say? Or when we have a “better”
story to top the one that’s being told. Or
when we need to just listen - to someone’s
problems, to someone’s criticism, to someone’s
praise, or to God or the universe trying to tell
us something. For some of us, shutting up is really
hard!
Speak up. Of course, it’s the flip side of
Shut up, but not exactly and not all the time. We
need to speak up for what’s right, for ourselves,
and sometimes even for other people (the trick is
to know when). It also means not remaining silent
when a kind word is needed.
Go ahead. What’s holding us back? Sometimes
the comfort of the status quo leads us to miss opportunities
to perform acts of kindness, explore new ideas,
experience new things. And if we find ourselves
in a hellishly impossible situation, the only option
may be to go ahead—to keep moving until we're
out of trouble or danger.
Sit down. OK, we know when to stand up (maybe),
but what about sitting down? Do we know when to
rest? Do we know when we've said all we need to
say, and then sit down? Do we need to sit down and
stop rocking the boat? Sitting can mean "I'm
here. I'm not moving." Standing is more dynamic,
with more possibilities.
Go away. Sometimes we just have to get out of town
- on vacation or forever. Going away on vacation
can maintain sanity, recharge the psychic batteries,
help us reconnect with the family, give us a new
view of the world. Going away forever (or at least
with not intention of returning) is a much bigger
deal. What is the motivation? Are we fleeing an
abusive family? Are we abandoning loved ones? Is
it just time to move on with life in a new location?
Are we on the lam? Are we rushing off to connect
with a lost love? And in all cases, including vacations,
can we afford not to go?
Stay home. Sometimes we need to stop gadding about
and just. . .stay. . .home. Sometimes we have to
resist the temptation to flee and stay to face the
music. Is there a reason we're almost always not
at home? What or whom are we avoiding? Maybe it's
time to just stay and deal with things.
Go home. We can get so homesick that the only thing
we think about is going home. We may be in danger
(a homesick soldier), or bored, or lonely. One old
definition of home is that it's the place where
they have to let you in if you show up at the door.
What sort of place is that? The family home? A place
where we belong, like a church or a group of friends?
What is home? Would we recognize it if we saw it?
Get lost. This is what the mean kids tell the dorky
or too-young kid who desperately wants to be included
in the group. But what does it mean when we tell
ourselves to get lost? Lost in thought. Lost in
the woods. Lost in wonder. Just lost. We can lose
ourselves on a car trip (well, some of us) without
trying. It can be much harder to lose our selves
(notice the space between "our" and "selves").
And then there's being found: We can't be found
if we're not already lost.
Wake up. How many of us spend most of our lives
asleep, or half asleep? The world provides so many
opportunities to drift along through our days in
a kind of mindless trance. Besides the obvious dulling
from booze or drugs, we have food, mass-media entertainment,
boring jobs, and just the sameness of routine. It
can be comforting not to have to think (and sometimes,
not to have to feel). Waking up could be painful
at first, even if we choose to do it. Many of us
have to be jolted awake by a crisis or by a sudden
breakthrough of beauty.
Turn around. Whoa. Stop. Are we going in the right
direction? Remember the old joke: I'm lost, but
I'm making terrific time. When is it time to reverse
direction? Where is that brake pedal anyway? Is
the guidance system (moral, emotional, whatever)
broken? How big an arc will we make as we swing
around the other way? What or whom will we hit?
What's chasing us; what monster is in back of us
waiting for us to turn around? Is it a monster only
because we haven't turned around?
A note about the "little" words. Many
of the two-word combinations I've used involve little
words that imply direction: up, down, around, ahead,
away. I find these words interesting from a couple
of standpoints.
First, they're part of a limited set of "function
words" in English (and perhaps universally
in all languages). While we can always invent more
nouns, verbs, adjectives, and adverbs, the list
function words is closed. Except perhaps through
long processes of linguistic drift, it's inconceivable
that we'll be coining any new prepositions, conjunctions,
or definite articles.
Second, the little words can be seen as metaphors
for our sense of position on a gravity-bound planet
- and by extension, our emotional state. "Up"
often implies "good"; "down"
can mean "bad." "Away" may seem
adventurous or alienating. And so on.
An excellent book on the metaphorical nature of
language is George Lakoff and Mark Johnson's classic
book, "Metaphors We Live By." You can
find it at Amazon.com.
Suggestion:
Figure out your own two-word combinations. Write
a pair of words on a slip of paper and put it in
your pocket. Read the words during the day. Be aware
of the "little words" in the phrase. See
where the words take you.
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