"What matters to you defines your mattering." - John Green
I’m sitting
here in my safe little house, writing about my safe little life, where I live
autonomously and don’t really have to worry about exposure to the virus, or any
kind of persecution, or violence. I’ve been torn about whether to post lately,
in light of all that’s going on.
But here
goes:
What
does “matter” mean?
Recently,
I asked someone if I mattered to him. I expected a yes or no. Instead, his reply
was, “What does ‘matter’ mean?”. I was unable to answer, although I knew what I
meant. I couldn’t rationalize an idea that lives in the heart.
It didn’t
feel necessary, fair, or even possible to me, to define a state of being that
is both intangible and real. After all, logic isn’t a prerequisite for connection.
Horses teach me that every day! Our analytical minds protect us, but they can inhibit
us as well, from embracing what we feel and know is true.
Ironically,
we may “matter” most not when we are acknowledged, but when we choose to
acknowledge someone else. We exist and function in relation to others. Responsibility to ourselves is paramount, of course; but the content
and quality of our interactions give meaning to our lives.
Last
week, I used a broom to shoo an angry 8-foot black snake away from a young
off-the-track filly during her bodywork session. That seemed important. I
coddled horses in the ends of their lives. I taught babies at the beginning of
theirs. Horses rested their chins on my head. They breathed in my ear. They nickered
at me and wrapped me in their necks. They also kicked at me, leaned on me,
bit me, stomped on me, and ignored me. At times I felt successful and strong. At times I
felt inadequate and weak.
Do you
know when I felt like I mattered most? When it wasn’t about me at all.
A dear
friend and mentor of mine lost her husband a couple of weeks ago. You can
imagine how the implications of this were compounded, during such restrictive
times. We couldn't be together, so I went to see her horse. I knew how he was
missing her. I thought of her as I touched him. I remembered how she’s been
there for me, and for him, and for so many others: consistently, unconditionally,
benevolently.
When we
finally were able to meet, in the midst of her grief, she asked me about my life. And even then, she remembered
every detail. I thought I was there
for her…but suddenly I mattered too, in
the most tender and humbling way.
I can’t help but treat others better because of how she
treated me.
We are
living in a time when these concepts must be at the forefront of our
consciousness: for ourselves, for other people, for animals, and for the future
quality of life on this planet. What does “matter” mean? When and why do we
matter to others? When and why do they matter to us? How do we know, and how
can we show?
It is
important to be able to distill our beliefs, particularly before we impose expectations
onto someone else; the better we explain, the clearer our communication, and the
healthier our relationships. But we must allow
the heart to inform the mind, and listen to its wisdom:
We are
enough when we are alone.
We
matter when we are together.
We are
loved in all ways, always.