I was fortunate to hear Anne Lamott talk and read last night. I went with my dear friend from college, Kathryn (check out her blog!) and we both sat, mesmerized (though a bit distracted by the aggressive curry soup that the guy on my left cracked open) as Anne made the audience laugh, sigh, laugh again, and shake their heads in expressions of oh-yes-me-too. Anne announced that she is a grandmother now, and her joy at this development was palpable. She was quite wise, in fact, as she described that this happened about 10 years earlier than she imagined (Sam was 19 when his son was born). She lamented, mostly joking, that nobody has asked her, but went on to make it very clear that she had wholly embraced her son’s news and this new life.
A couple of her points particularly stuck with me. She spoke about how in the 70s she was never described as having a wide open heart, or of being immensely warm and generous with her spirit. Instead, she felt maligned, even mocked, over and over again, for being so damned sensitive. This generated laughter in the audience and a swell of intense identification in me. I am not at the point where I feel like my extreme sensitivity is a good thing, at all, so I’m still in the chagrined/embarassed/this-is-a-weakness phase that Anne mentioned from her younger years. But she gives me hope.
(An aside: I was talking to someone this week about what I’ve always called my OCD traits of being almost unable to bear strong smells, loud noises, distinctive tastes, or being touched very much, and the person said, “Well, you are a very sensitive person.” Call me a moron, but it had never occured to me that this was linked. I’m emotionally sensitive – porous, I’ve called it – and so are my senses. Duh. Lightbulb.)
Anne Lamott then went on to say that “If you are like me, you will find yourself very lost. And then you will find yourself very found, in fiction.” This made complete sense to me, though I would add that I have also been very found in non-fiction, most notably Anne’s own writing. I am so sensitive that I often feel skin-less, open in a boundary-less way to influence and input, both emotional and otherwise. Easily bruised or overwhelmed by this input, I often seek refuge in the pages of a book. And here is my idol, saying she herself feels the same way; what’s more reassuring than that?
The other thing that Anne said that I’ve been thinking about since is the Rumi quotation from which the book’s title is taken (and she charmingly spaced out on her own book’s title, which made everybody laugh and instantly humanized her). The quotation is:
Each has to enter the nest made by the other imperfect birds. – Rumi
And Anne went on to talk about how all of life is about the nests we make, with family and by ourselves, our nests made up of the twigs and sticks of our life experience, our particular failures and accomplishments and feelings and relationships. She spoke of how when someone you know is encountering true despair or tragedy, you can feel helpless, and all you can offer is your attention, a cup of tea, yourself. All you can offer is the warmth of your nest, for a little while. It always seems so futile, she said, and yet it is always enough. It is always enough.
I have been thinking all day of those dear people whose nests have cradled me when I needed it. Of those friends who call just to check in, who remember important dates and who are there even in the non-important moments (which wind up being, of course, the most important memories of all). Of those who have revealed to me the underpinnings of their nests, in all of their messy, stuck-together, raw and honest grandeur. Thank you.
I love this. I SO would have loved to have sat there with you! A slice of Heaven, as cheesy as that may sound.
Thank you for sharing some tidbits with us! Really. I gobbled it up.
OH! And the sensitive stuff…ME TOO. I’m in the same place, trying to believe that this “weakness” can become a strength. Or seeing it as one because it is, anyway.
I am so jealous that you got to see her in the flesh! I would be over the moon!
She is so wise, isn’t she? I love the nest analogy…it’s so true. I’m amazed with the stuff she comes up with.
And overly sensitive? Yeah. And I don’t think it’s a good thing, either!
I love this idea of the nests. I’ve never thought of it that way, but it is so true. Imperfect nests made by imperfect birds, but they are enough, “always enough”. Always just what you need at that moment. And the ones we make are just right for those that need to come to them too.
Thanks Lindsey!
First off, I am SO jealous of your evening with her! I’d love to hear her speak. And how funny that she spaced on her title! Thank you for sharing your experience; I’ll live vicariously!
(Oh, and sensitive soul/emotion/body to touch and sound? Check. You’re not alone, as you now know.)
Lindsey, thank you for this. Especially the last few sentences. Indeed, my nest is imperfect. But you make me feel like it is okay to share, okay to let others in to my most raw and revealed core.
I find myself so often seeking comfort in the nests of other imperfect birds just so that I can feel NORMAL. Amazing how other people’s imperfections can make me feel more alive and real.
A lovely post Lindsey!
Sigh. This is so refreshing. I love your blog. I love they way you share about life. I get this. So get this.
Sounds like a marvelous evening. Wish I could have been there with you two to hear Anne speak. Love the nest metaphor. And what you do with it here.
What an amazing experience it must have been 🙂 I got goose bumps reading your account of the evening, especially the overly sensitive bit (and I never would have linked sensitive sensory experiences with emotions either, but it makes total sense and has my mind reeling…)
Thank you for sharing…
I would love to hear Anne speak in person! Once I started reading her, it finally clicked for me that I’m not crazy. My whole life, my family has told me I’m so (or too) sensitive and so I have also perceived it as a negative thing. But what I’ve realized through reading Anne and others, and through encountering you and many others through blogging is that maybe this trait goes hand in hand with writer/artist types. Our brains are wired to be sensitive and it’s why we’re drawn to expressing ourselves creatively/artistically. Really, can you think of an artist who wasn’t sensitive?? It’s why we’re all so damn prone to depression, too, I think.
I’ve been wanting to write about this on my blog, but I’m afraid my family will feel badly if I write how what they have always made to make me feel negatively about is something that’s valued by others. We’ll see.
Great post, Lindsey.
Can’t wait to dive into Imperfect Birds. Operating Instructions and Bird by Bird are my favorites. In fact, just the other day I told my son to “just take it bird by bird” when he was getting frustrated with his trains. Anne has such a way of articulating the precisely right way of approaching life’s dilemmas. Thanks for letting us “hear” her vicariously. =>
Let me be the token gentleman to sign in here and tell you how much I enjoyed this post. I went to a similar event Thursday evening in Northern Virginia, and it was a wonderful time for everyone. She is one of the funniest, most spiritual, most charming people I’ve ever met – even if we do differ a bit on the political side of things;-)
Great blog!!
Hey Matt, good to be in the company of gentlemen once in a while :). I really appreciate this post as I’m in the middle between you, Lindsey, and Anne—and also highly sensitive (you might want to check out Elaine Aaron’s “The Highly Sensitive Person,” that my wife bought for me and turned out to be rather validating and normalizing. I do agree that getting older makes sensitivity seem less of a character flaw, and I’m heartened to think that perhaps a little fiction might be a place to find some more of my self.
As for birds, a couple of highly sensitive ones have just hatched their babies in their imperfectly placed nest by our front door, which means that they have to have a panic attack any time we come or go, even though in truth we’re thrilled to have them.
Yes — Privilege of Parenting guy is right. I started with “The Highly Sensitive Child” to understand baby #1, then discovered myself and a bunch of people I know in its pages. My favorite part of the book? That it explains why “sensitive” is so great, as well as so hard.
I love your writing, Lindsey.
Like so many others, I wish I had been right there with you, paying homage to Anne Lamott and her bird metaphors.
A thought just crossed my mind: I wonder if our beloved Anne would like to take part in this little Internet series I’m quite fond of…it’s called Present Tense…
xoxo
I can’t imagine the honor of hearing Anne Lamott speak *in person*. I think I would maybe faint. 🙂
Thank you for sharing this experience. What delight, what insight.