David and I saw Nomadland yesterday - in a word, it is beautiful. The scenery is beautiful. The soundtrack is beautiful. The community is beautiful. Even the pain is beautiful. This movie is not for everyone I'm sure - featuring a growing collection of houseless individuals, leaving society to live a nomad existence in vans, this movie simultaneously shows great grief and trauma and hurt experienced by these individuals, but with the highest levels of respect. Cast with people who actually live as nomads, this movie flows at a much different pace than typical media. There are wide open spaces, long static shots, lots of time of silence and stillness. It demonstrates the beauty of space.
Only 14 days away from Bunny being home, this movie felt like a prophetic piece of wisdom offered to David and I. As we ponder how Bunny will reintegrate into our home and family and life, this movie puts the very highest value of authenticity and community, displayed through presence and silence. The willingness to wait for someone to offer their story; the space to let people grieve; the time to let trauma fade.
It's hard for me. We live in a society ruled by calendars and alarms and alerts from our phones, where communication is watered down to 140 characters or captions on SnapChat - we live in a society that values productivity above all else. More and more (and not just because of the pandemic) people migrate to rooms with closed doors producing video streams, tik toks, podcasts and cultivating online personalities. We withdraw from individuals to engage with the anonymous masses of the internet.
And I - I am type A - enneagram 1 - control addict. My schedules give me a feeling of control which in turn makes me feel safe. A fully checked off list at the end of a day gives me worth and value. A resume of what I have done - what I can do - ensures that I matter. While I actually think I am fairly good at listening to others and engaging authentically, it's often bound in my schedule - coffee with Jenn from 8:30am - 10:30am. Trip to Bloomington to visit with Beth - 11:00am - 3:00pm. Date with my hubby 5:00pm - 9:00pm. Nightly phone call with Bunny - 7:45pm - 8:05pm. These boundaries let me fully engage in that moment without any worry of losing momentum on my pursuit of productivity.
But I cannot - and will not- force Bunny onto my schedule. She does not owe me a half hour to recount what she has learned. She does not need to be able to list 3 ways she has changed through this experience. She will not be given two weeks to process and then be expected to move on. Bunny does not need to make me more comfortable by healing in a way that moves with my timeline or expectations.
While it may not be true of all, the nomads from the movie shared a common life perspective that they had no desire to function in societal norms. The pace of the world - the demands of a typical schedule - were shackles they had cast off. Their grief could ebb and flow naturally - and if they needed time and space to be alone, it was there. They could engage with community, but with a shared value that support has no strings attached - no hidden agenda. You don't demand that someone share their story on your terms. You don't suggest that mental and emotionally healthy individuals would be able to move past that trauma by now. You embrace the beauty of space and stillness.
It is almost unbelievable to think that in 14 days from right now, I will have held my daughter in my arms again. But more than that first moment, I want to be one that offers her the freedom to choose the moments that follow. I want to be one that is available - present - intentional.
In this life, the greatest gift we can offer each other is time - and she can have all the time she wants.
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