WTF: Wishful Thinking Fulfilled

As humans, isolation can be the worst part of any suffering we are afflicted with, whether or not we are alone or surrounded by people. If we hit an upper limit for suffering, stifling groupthink or meaningless activities, our mind begins to disengage to save itself from disappearing altogether. If this disengaged mind isn't directed anywhere, a profound sense of alienation and lassitude comes soon after the affliction. Isolation leaves a dearth of inspiration or courage to even wish for, desire, or move out of our painful state.

Perhaps our nomadic beginnings have evolved us into believing that the grass is greener somewhere else, with hope that everything that needs to be pastured and fed within us will have the necessary space. Although the adage of "The grass is always greener…" was coined as a judgment of our roaming tendencies, the saying could not have come into being before there were fences. Any worn-out saying can be a reminder not to devalue what one has already been given or has gathered up. But for every saying there is its opposite, such as "don't be a stick in the mud" or "a rolling stone gathers no moss." With only this pithy wisdom to draw from, we hardly know the who or where of us, let alone the how or why.

When we feel stuck in a situation, we are "be-wildered" and the wilderness is just where we need to be. The mind begins to solve problems by ranging beyond our immediate familiar surroundings, assets, tools, and advice. Conventional wisdom may be failing to solve an unconventional problem. We might begin to feel strongly that we need to meet people we don't yet know and to learn from them. Wishful thinking is a big part of this mind sweep. Solitude can hold all of this ranging filled with wishing and hoping. Isolation, however, cannot hold any of this, and leaves us sinking into chronic dissatisfaction.

Edgar Degas, Portrait of Miss Cassat, Seated, Holding Cards 1878

Isolation can also distort our perspective. All we see from our isolated vantage points are signs that seem posted specifically at us-- no, not you, not now, not allowed, not ever. It can make us feel that everyone has it better and easier than we do, with lush and wavy grasses spreading out before them, while we are uniquely refused and famished. Or range is limited and can't take in all that we might have seen around, beyond, and through those borders, fences, and signs. Our wishes are foreclosed before they can even appear.

The destructive, dispiriting nature of isolation was brought home to me in a letter from a woman who had survived the Rwandan genocide of 1994. I write about her in one of my poems, and I think of her often. My sponsorship of her through Women for Women International lasted only a year, due to the dynamic structure of their program, and so there is not much time to come to a full appreciation of what each woman has endured. One common plight is that they are unsettled, without permanent homes, apart from supportive family, or community, with no way to enter back in. Some are shunned as having been damaged and are therefore considered an unlucky disgrace. Some are looking for lost children. 

At the end of the yearly sponsorship, which brings them back into the marketplace and the community, the woman writes a letter to her sponsor, which is translated into English. The original one written in her mother tongue is included. The sentence that has stayed with me from the letter that the Rwandan woman wrote to me was translated as "we thank you for moving us from our isolation." The horrors that she had survived, I could only remotely imagine from the news, as she didn't relate them. However, from that statement she taught me that beyond the extremes that had happened to her, the resulting isolation was the worst. At the end of the letter, she expressed a wish that perhaps I could someday come and meet her. Her mind had moved from despair to wishes for things that weren't strictly necessary, but enlivening and hopeful.

It makes sense to me that I began my sponsorship of women during a time when I felt isolated and without hope. I had sustained a back injury that was not healing, but rather getting worse as the months went by. I had visitors to my room, but I was without freedom of movement, or even an idea that I would ever again be able to simply decide where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do and then follow through. Each visit to my bedside became nearly unbearable emotionally, because I would watch the person leave under their own power of purpose and ability. I would imagine what it was like to take the steps they were taking down the hallway and out the door. I would hear their car door shut, the engine start up, and the wheels take them to their next destination. I wasn't even wishing that I could do the same, because my heart no longer had that sort of impulse to life. I simply listened to the sounds of their freedom that were like notes of music from a foreign land.

At this time, a friend of mine who lived in another state, was having her own crisis which left her feeling stuck and overwhelmed. She was a college professor raising a child, and was recovering from a divorce and the loss of certain friendships and support that so often come with that crisis. One day when she was at home with an inbox full of papers to grade and a toddler whirling about the house, she had a sudden thought of "I wish Lizbeth could help me grade these papers." As a fellow English graduate, she knew I would be competent to read and comment upon beginning compositions.

Her wish, one that was clear in her mind, started her thinking about how my help would even be possible with the physical distance between us. She called me with her idea that by using the internet, I would correct and comment upon the papers, and then she would give the final grade. She offered to pay me per paper, and as she spoke, I realized that after a certain number of them, I would have enough to pay for a sponsorship.

As my friend and I shared papers, she would pass on the occasional thank you that students gave her for helpful feedback, which had come from me. I thought of these students, moving forward in their lives, learning how to communicate their visions and ideas more clearly and powerfully. I thought of the women in Rwanda and the Congo gaining more independence and a sense of self-worth as they were reestablished in their communities. So much movement was happening across my life from points of one group of strangers to points of another, and this transcendence of my physical in situ moved me from my isolation. 

My friend moved through the process of reestablishing her life, finding love again, and securing many blessings for herself and her daughter, including a new brother, social activities with old and new friends, career advancement and a move to the town which she had dreamed about living in. None of it was easy or without loss, all of it required compromises, confusion and constant adjustment. But so many of these changes began with a clear wish for how burdens could be lifted and camaraderie and assistance obtained from many people around her. She still has stacks of papers to grade, but she has moved from her isolation.

I, myself, went through several painful procedures to restore my back to functionality and finally to reduced levels of chronic pain. As more of my energy was being devoted to physical therapy and greater involvement with my two small children, I had less time to critique papers. I was able to continue sponsoring women across the ocean for several years. And somewhere, beneath the challenges of maintaining a certain level of health, guiding two teenagers into adulthood, while continuing to traverse it myself, I do have a wish. I would like to see with my own eyes that those women are well and thriving with hearts full of wishes.