Anne Morrow Lindbergh, in Gift From the Sea, talks about sea shells as symbols for the stages of a woman’s married life. The double-sunrise (romantic love) the oyster (child rearing, stablizing) the argonauta (the afterward independence and free float towards the sea). Perhaps my life is not traditional (HA!) and does not quite fit these stages or roles precisely. I find myself less in the secure oyster stage of holding on firmly and adding space and possessions for my family than I do in the argonauta stage of holding my shell with the sea as my destination.
In her writing, her reflections, I recognize myself. (as innumerable women have before me.) She loves the sea, as I do (I long for it now!) and she loves to think and contemplate and spit her thoughts into the wind and let them spatter back. She reminds me that the more we grow into ourselves, the more we are free to live by propinquity with others, especially those closest and potentially most wearing, to us. After all, I loved the double-sunrise portion of my love with David, but I do not wish to go back. No. I loved the Poe-ish, heart-strong, all-world-ahead self I was at 17, but I am ever so much gladder to be myself now.
At twenty nine and 11 months, I have merely to let a few more days drop away before I will enter my third decade in this world. I have no sadness about “becoming old” or leaving my twenties. But I do feel a shift at the soul level, a change in perception and awareness, a new ‘knowing’ of time and of self.
Anne writes: “A woman must come of age by herself. She must learn not to depend on another, not to prove her strength by competing with another. She must find her true center alone. She must become whole.
The German poet Rilke writes ” A complete sharing between two people is an impossibility, and whenever it seems, nonetheless, to exist, it is a narrowing, a mutual agreement which robs either one member of both of his fullest freedom and development. But once the realization is accepted that, even between the closest human beings, infinite distances continue to exist, a wonderful living side by side can grow up, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole and against a beautiful sky!”
Experiences of depth in relationship, like with David, have shown me much, MUCH about myself. Experiences of loss in other relationships, of trust and felt betrayal have shown me other and also-wise things. Moving into and through the deep pain in my soul has begun to free me to experience the wholeness of my created self. For yes, just as it is true that we live in a broken world it is also true that we serve a healing God, a God whose one drop of blood can break curses. Whose eyes long for my glance.
It is when I am most whole that I am able to reach out to others and also to myself. Yet wholeness only comes one Way. Still I am not becoming Jesus. I am becoming me . . . the real true me who was named Ann Elizabeth and who most often now goes by Annelise but who bears a name from time eternal that only His lips speak, only His heart echoes.
As I move towards self-knowing, in propinquity (don’t you love that word!) with my beloved I move closer to the true me. The me whose skin I will inhabit in heaven, whose voice will float in song, and whose laughter will never fear to be heard.
We cover so much of ourselves. Our nakedness, yes. (unless we flaunt it instead, diversionary) But also the small things: our teeth, the hair on our arms and our too-skinny legs, our accents and our pasts. We fear that we are only the parts of us we like the least. And still He smiles, the shaky, shivery smile that holds pain, and He gazes, hoping we may look up and catch those Eyes. Just one glance from them, just one drop of that blood, just a little propinquity with the Son-Maker . . . . . .
And our truest Selves will be Undone into almost-perfection.
