Finding Permission to Live the Life I Want and Need to Live

Weighing the options of what I deserve in this one and fragile life.

Photo by Florian Schmetz on Unsplash

I’ve been thinking about what I am thinking about.  Does this make sense? This might be a little philosophy lesson, which might be needed. It might involve a little theology. It might be primal need. You can be the judge.

Listen to me while I try to explain. Stay with me, for a moment and see what you think.

What I’ve been thinking about seems deeper than making a bucket list and checking things off. I’ve been to a lot of places. I’ve done a lot of things. My conundrum is deeper—I think.

Let me see if I can mine this deep nugget out of my heart and maybe yours as well.

When I dig deeper, I hit a wall in me which says, “Steve—do you really deserve to do this thing you’re thinking about?” 

It is the nuance of “deserve” that trips me up on another rainy day in the springtime mountains. 

To deserve— hints at merit. To deserve speaks of warranting something. To deserve—causes me to pause.  To deserve anything in this life is the subject of songs, books and hymns. But now, let me add my voice to this litany of wondering and bewilderment.

Do I deserve to go to a poetry workshop when it is expensive; takes several days and then there is the travel?  What if I’m disappointed in the people there? Will they be weird? Will they be more free than me? What if after paying all this money and investing this time, I walk away disillusioned, disappointed and come home in despair.

Do I deserve “more” than I’ve already been given in this life? To put it simply and boldly, I have been so fortunate. Why then, do I want to have more and more fortune? Blessing might be a better, more fitting word. I am aware of such great blessing in my life. Will this blessing stop?  

It’s not about amassing fortune for me. It is about living and being alive for as long as I have breath. It is about moving, as long as I can move. It is about learning when there is so much to know.  If that is fortune, then I am a fortune seeker, I suppose.

But when there is much need around me, can I justify my own need to feed my own soul?

What triggers this is me deliberating going to a poetry workshop with one of my favorite poets in this day and age. He’s coming to a town near me and I’ve been watching the registration page on line to see if it’s filled up yet. I’ve even called the venue to keep a more accurate tally on the numbers. I don’t want a conference. I’m done with that. I want an intimate place where I can learn—be seen; be heard; and invited upward still. But do I deserve this?  It’s not free. With the money it will cost to attend, I could finish this project in my home or make a trip to see someone.  It’s that weighing of my inner balance that is giving me pause.  Does this make sense to you?  If it doesn’t then swipe past this page and go on to something more intriguing.

It’s always an invitation to consider why Jesus asked men and women, “What do you want?”  or “What do you want me to do?”  These are life-stopper questions for blind Bartimaeus aren’t they?  I mean, really—if someone is blind, it seems pretty obvious what a blind person might really want? The same goes for a paralyzed person who for decades drug themselves near a pool where they were told they might just be healed if they were there at the right time and the right person came near.

I’m imagining an even deeper question today. What do I really deserve?

This naked question can stir up feelings of entitlement; core needs to be a human being and basic commodities a person needs to stay alive.

But my question today runs in a different current of the river of life. I’m thinking at my stage; in my phase and in my particular circumstances of life—right now, do I deserve to keep on wanting experiences; knowledge, skills and on and on?  When is enough, enough?

So, to help me answer this question, I have turned to a poem. Line by line, I try to excavate where the answer might lie. As you’ll see, if you read the poem, I answer my own question but I don’t resolve it for you.  Or do I?

Oh, I hope you’ll leave a comment here for our little community, so we can all see what this stirs up in us?  Maybe out there in cyber land—someone will offer us the key to unlock this primal question I’m unearthing today.

And remember me as I make a pretty significant decision in the next few hours about whether or not to enroll in the poetry workshop that has grabbed my hearts for months—but I have not yet pushed the button to say “Yes”—and also to pay for it.

Till then, though, here’s my poem to stir the muddy waters within. I hope we all find some clarity. I love the title, “The Permission Giver.” Because, to answer this important question, will require facing a deeper question, perhaps. Who is the permission giver in your life?

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