While browsing through an article entitled "Perspective: Searching for Balance" in the Harvard Divinity School Bulletin, I came across an idea that intrigued me:  the importance of middle ground.

The author, Kathryn Dodgson, quotes a Nigerian writer, Chinua Achebe. Achebe writes that he is fascinated by the middle ground -- "It is neither the origin of things nor the last things; it is aware of a future to head into and a past to fall back on; it is the home of doubt and indecision, of suspension of disbelief, of make-believe, of playfulness, of the unpredictable, of irony."

My thinking was stimulated by the invitation to consider a  "middle ground" or middle way.  That idea is so out of favor in a culture of extremes.  Political and economic fortunes ride a roller coaster of extremes.  Religious convictions are either fanatical or absent.  We are encouraged to believe in absolutes in relationships, career choices and, of course, in regard to health.  We are considered either healthy or sick, strong or weak, flaring or in remission.

Yet isn't our reality more complicated than that?  None of us are in just one place.

Achebe, in his collection of essays, The Education of a British-Protected Child, writes that his people, the Igbo, prefer not singularity but duality.  Wherever Something Stands, Something Else Will Stand Beside It.  Isn't that a perfect description of life with illness?

We may see this most clearly in our fear -- on good days we are often only too aware that our joint disease Stands Close By.  It is difficult to believe in the singularity of health once chronic illness has struck.

But the reverse is also true -- and here is where we can miss something important.  You have a day where you only feel fatigue and aches.  It may seem that illness is the only reality.  But if you allow yourself to see your body in a larger context, you recognize that your health is also present -- it Stands Beside your fatigue and pain.

The middle ground, the middle way is a reminder that we are never really on one shore or the other -- we are all navigating back and forth, weaving several strands together in our lives.  One of the strands is the illness, one of the strands is our radiant health, one of the strands is pain, one of the strands is energy, and on and on it goes.

You may be wondering, how can this idea aid your daily living?

If you have the mental habit of "either/or" thinking, it can help to shade in a middle ground.  When you ask yourself "How am I feeling today?" -- go beyond "good" or "lousy."  Well, I have some pain in my knee, and the sun is shining on my head -- so there is some pain and some warmth and relaxation.

Look for the Middle Way, not just the extremes, and value it.  We can live in that place -- there is room to embrace more of life, and room for things to happen.  Mystery lives in the middle, as do miracles and possibilities.  This is where communication and community dwell -- where we join hands and hearts.

I look forward to meeting you there.

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Last weekend I had the great opportunity to meet Sara Nash (from the Single Gal's Guide to RA blog).

She is as fun and funny in person as she is on her blog.  We spent time talking about dating and creating relationships, both romantic and other.  Sara shared her experiences, and some heartfelt questions.

In honor of St. Valentine's Day, I will pass along some of the wisdom and humor we gathered together.

Loving and Being Loved is an Important and Essential Part of Life.

It can be tempting to believe that it's "just not worth the effort" to extend yourself and create some meaningful relationships.  When you don't feel well, or perhaps you see yourself as damaged, or compromised, it is also a temptation to believe you're not worth it.

Neither of those beliefs is accurate.

Finding someone to love -- and being willing to let yourself be loved -- is one of the greatest gifts we can receive or share.  It can take some intention, some willingness to risk, and a dash of humor, but a loving relationship is possible -- and incredibly nourishing.

Commit Yourself to the Process.

Relationships don't "just happen."

There is often some tricky trial and error.

Sara and some others at our meeting talked about some "off" experiences -- dates who didn't "get" her, or who left because of the diagnosis of RA.

Well, isn't that their loss????

It's no fun to feel rejected, but sometimes these experiences are the only way to sort the keepers from the not-so-good ones.

Then it comes back to your own confidence -- that you are a gutsy, interesting, many-faceted prize.

You are more than your diagnosis -- it doesn't define you, and it is not the most important part of your self-understanding.

It is piece of your life, a shade of your color, but not your dominant hue.

You may have some inner work to do to know you are lovable and have a lot to give -- and if I'm talking to you, get started!

You may have work to do to put your intention out in the world, and put yourself in the path of relationships.  This requires some planning and some effort, but this is also doable.

Committing to the process is a good place to get started.

Manage the Unpredictable.

That sounds like a contradiction -- how can we manage what isn't known?

With a chronic disease -- that has fatigue and pain as unwelcome companions -- learning to manage and plan for the unseen circumstances can help provide a cushion of time, energy, and space.

As Sara said, "When you have a chronic disease, you learn you have to be very well organized."

That's part of it -- and preparing for contingencies is the other part.

Do you have a quick three- or four-sentence description of your illness, if you would need to explain to someone why you take pills, or why you walk more slowly?

Have you practiced some generic cover lines for times when you don't want to disclose?  If you would need to end a date, or chose an activity that is a little less strenuous than a mountain hike, you don't need to over explain or make yourself feel more vulnerable.

Everybody gets the flu, and many folks don't like to hike or bike.  A simple "I don't think that appeals to me," or "I got an unexpected bug.  I enjoyed our time so far, and I'd like to call you tomorrow when I'm feeling better."

Having some practiced words in your back pocket -- and giving yourself permission -- are two ways you can manage.

You probably have some I haven't thought of, and it's wonderful to share.

If you are beyond the dating and into a long-term relationship -- most of this still applies!

We still need to commit -- and re-commit -- to the process of loving and being loved.  A relationship is a deep gift in our lives -- and also requires intention, attention, and an eye to the unpredictable.

I wish you all well on your journey, and whatever your relationship status, bless yourself with a gift of appreciation and loving thoughts this Valentine's Day.

A valentine from me to you, and a valentine from you to you.

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A client of mine was struggling.

He has been living with rheumatoid arthritis (RA) and working full time.  He supports a growing family and wants to do everything he can to make their lives happy, healthy, and secure.  He loves his wife and wants happiness for her, so he will bend his schedule, take on household maintenance, and shoulder extra chores to make her life easier.

The result of this effort is that he is usually tired, and is regularly overwhelmed.  He doesn't know how to change his life -- and he's not sure he wants to.

My client isn't living this way just because he's a super nice guy (although he is).  He is living a script -- a story he told himself about who he is.  It's a story that makes him feel proud of himself and, even more than that, secure.  He knows what his life is about.  He's a breadwinner.  He's a fix-it guy.  He's reliable.  He can be counted on.

Most of us have a story.  Even when we're not aware, it lurks in the background, under the radar.  It's the story of who we think we are -- and who we're not -- and it is a subtle picture of how we believe life should go.

For my client, life was about responsibility, and also about the satisfaction of being in charge.

Then he had a diagnosis of RA.

His life changed. But his story didn't.

That happens a lot.  We think a diagnosis, or a family trauma, or a loss, or even something wonderful like a new job, shouldn't change us that much.  We move on.  If it's an illness, we treat it like it's just another add-on in our busy lives.

The result is that we miss the challenge and the opportunity that life has given us to grow in a new way.  To live differently and explore other parts of ourselves.  It is not easy.  We usually wouldn't choose the pain, the disruption, or the limitation that life seems to be offering as a pathway.  There are difficult choices.  These may mean saying no to a long held dream, or something we feel we should have.

My client began to suffer from severe flares, and he couldn't do everything for everyone anymore.  He had to ask for help.  He had to let go of some independence, and his story that he was The Go-To Guy in the family.  This was hard -- even humiliating for him.

The process of changing our story is a complicated one.  We are walking in the fog -- inventing ourselves as we go.

When we begin to emerge from these life- and psyche-altering times, there is surprise -- and often good news.  No, our life is not what we thought it should be.  But there are amazing compensations that we could not have imagined.

My client found his wife rose to the challenge of his illness magnificently.  Yes, he had wanted to protect and cherish her.  It was a startling gift to feel protected and cherished by her.  He let go of some of his compulsive management of family life, and found he could be a dad who relaxed as often as he worked.  It wasn't a quick or painless journey.  But as he allowed his story about himself to soften and evolve, he discovered hidden treasures.

I wonder what version of your life story you are clinging to -- and what you can let go of to allow new realities to emerge.

What is the new story you might begin to tell?

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