In Writer and Director John Krasinski’s IF, Cailey Flemming plays Bea, who fears her Dad, played by John, could die following heart surgery. Bea talks with Calvin, played by Ryan Reynolds, who is her childhood imaginary friend (IF) that she had forgotten. Several years ago 12-year-old Bea lost her beloved Mother to cancer. Calvin helped her get through that tragedy.
Bea cries, “I just can’t do it, again!”
Calvin asks, “Can’t do what?”
Bea cries, “Say goodbye.”
Kneeling down, Calvin says, “Then don’t.”
Bea asks. “I don’t know what to say. What do I tell him?”
Calvin says, “Just tell him a story.”
Calvin and Bea hug. They both cry.
In IF, “The most important stories are the ones we tell ourselves.”
When I was 8 years old, Dad scared the hell out of me. I feared to my soul. I never got it right for Dad. Whatever I did or didn’t do only got him so angry at me. Honestly, I never knew which. I was Dad’s greatest disappointment in life. I was not enough like him for him. I would never be good enough for Dad. I would never be good enough for anyone, including me.
The story I told myself: I’m not good enough. I never will be. I spent most of my adult life proving that I was good enough, proving that I was good enough to be loved. Still, being more of anything would never be enough. That’s the human design. In the bigger picture, the story I told myself: I’m fucked. My narrative. That became my predictable future.
According to the First Noble Truth of Buddhism, there will always be suffering in life. The Second Noble Truth of Buddhism is the source of suffering. My childhood trauma and depression was my source of suffering. That was in the past, my past. The past is the past. I can’t do anything about it. As Lady MacBeth said, “What’s done cannot be undone.”
The Fourth Noble Truth of Buddhism is the path to end suffering. On my path to end suffering I reinvent my narrative. I tell my new story. I reinvent me.
For over 35 years, I’ve trained in Aikido with the late Mizukami Sensei and Ishibashi Sensei. Mizukami Sensei taught both Ishibashi Sensei and me. He was a father to us, taught us Aikido; more importantly he taught us to be good men, good people.
Mizukami Sensei said, “Just train.” It’s not like I have to get somewhere or be someone else. For the first time in my life, I was safe being me. Sensei created the space to succeed, fail, and grow from both. In Aikido, he said, “Wait it out. Enter the attack. Take a glancing blow if you have to. You’re not always going to get away scot-free. It’s one time.” That wasn’t only meant for the 250-pound man punching to my face, that was his life lesson. I take a glancing blow, take a hit for what’s meaningful to me. I risk myself to have a meaningful life. I have character. I live with honor. That’s my story.
Ishibashi Sensei said, “The purpose of Aikido is to release your fear.” Sensei instructs, “The safest place to be is under the attack, in the danger.” In the center of the attack, in the danger, I hold my position. I open up. I let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough, that I never will be. Although my fear inside never completely disappears, every time I enter what I fear, I let go more of my fear inside. I free myself. I let me be me. That’s my story.
I leverage what Mizukami Sensei and Ishibashi Sensei taught me, working with my therapist Lance Miller to heal my childhood trauma and depression. I forgave Dad for not knowing how to be a father and husband, for being afraid inside, and for being imperfectly human. Dad only did to me what his Dad had done to him. He didn’t know any better. His father was far worse to him, than Dad was to me. I learnt compassion. I forgive myself for not being strong enough to stand up to Dad as a little boy and protect Mom. I forgive myself for being imperfectly human, too. That’s the story I tell.
In the Japanese aesthetic wabi-sabi, there is beauty in imperfection. There is beauty in our human imperfection. I tell my story: I love myself for who I am and forgive myself for who I’m not. I have nothing to do with what goes on inside someone else. I have a say in what goes on inside me.
The late cystic fibrosis activist Claire Wineland said, “Have your life be a work of art. Have a life that you’re proud of.” Have a meaningful life. Have a life that you love. That can be the story you tell. Just tell a story. Tell your story.
–
Photo by Etienne Girardet on Unsplash
