When I am down and, oh, my soul, so weary
When troubles come and my heart burdened be
Then I am still and wait here in the silence
Until You come and sit awhile with me.
You raise me up so I can stand on mountains
You raise me up to walk on stormy seas
I am strong when I am on Your shoulders
You raise me up to more than I can be.
~You Raise Me Up by Josh Groban
All of us love the scene at the end of the movie. It is the point where the music gets dramatic and Patrick Swayze lifts Jennifer Grey over his head. The crescendos and applause are almost automatic because we sense that one person was able to elevate someone else above themselves and help them realize their dreams or conquer their fears. We long to be the person who was able to inspire or facilitate someone else on their journey toward their goals.
But in real life, sometimes, being the hero seems harder than that. There are misunderstandings, and the biggest is what we assume to be the key ingredient to help others. Because of this, we are easily frustrated and become determined not to help others. We are prone to criticize others and bring them down so that we will feel better about ourselves because the hero's journey is fraught with challenges.
Many of us begin our adult lives intending to influence others. That is why people become pastors, teachers, and nurses. Once we get past our trauma, many of us realize that these desires to do good and help others are embedded deep within us. It is only after doing challenging work with the trauma in our nervous systems that we find this basic good that is true about all humanity. It is not that we were inherently bad -- we were wounded.
Allow me a little latitude to dissect the first few phrases of this song and hopefully extract some meaningful guidance for our desire to be significant and influential in our world.
With all the shame and abuse of religion and high-control families, it is amazing that any of us get through this life without serious depression. Then we start piling on the other factors in our world like employers and coworkers and the controlling bosses, and it becomes safe to assume that most of us have been beaten down in one way or another.
Many of us have unprocessed trauma and a plethora of unanswered questions, mistreatment, and abuse. So, when we tell people "Just get over it," we are reopening their wounds and firing their trauma. When we mindlessly repeat, "I'm fine," the only person we are fooling is ourselves.
We need to be able to admit that we are not fine, and it is OK to be OK with not being OK. It is not that I do not have some optimism about life, and I hope things will get better, but I need to be as honest as I can about how I am currently feeling and what it feels like in my body. When we listen to this song, we feel the soul-crushing weight the writer knows all too well -- I am down!
My soul is weary.
After the most recent election in the United States, many of us, on both sides, felt tired. I felt like, for about 10 years, I was enamored with our political landscape and the outcome we see here. I talked to several people who were exhausted from the situation we had experienced for too long.
Politicians continue to lie to us. Rich people sometimes exploit the people they employ. The easiest way to raise the ire of good Christians is to stand up for the "least of these" as Jesus suggested. We feel categorized and labeled every time we advocate for the less fortunate or the marginalized in our society. Allies become demoralized when we dare to try to lift someone the way our past heroes have. How dare we lift up a group that does not share the exact beliefs of the religious elite and the political power-hungry politicians?
Many of the writers I know are very simply tired, and it is more than physical tiredness. It is not just that we have been physically working hard, we have invested deeply in outcomes we cannot control and our souls ache for our fellow humans. Our souls are weary!
My heart is burdened by trouble.
Notice that the author of this song does not try to attach any causation to the troubles he is experiencing. He observes that these troubles burden him even though he most likely was not the cause and did not deserve the trouble he was experiencing. Too much time is wasted, in religion and philosophy, trying to explain the challenges we experience. Even though some of them are cause and effect from the things we do, most are caused by someone else's actions and the natural way that things occur.
I used to tell people that asking "why" was an endless loop because we really don't know the cause of many things in our universe, and even though religion likes to assume it has answers, it would benefit all of us to admit that there are some things we don't know and things we cannot explain. Dogmatically claiming that we can, just because we want answers, hurts all of us.
I wait in silence.
After my stroke, I found it beneficial to have a daily routine. Part of the routine was that I would write every day. It helps me sort out my feelings and it also forces me to read, research, and communicate with others. It keeps my brain active and forces me to think contemplatively about my world. I love it, and on most days, it gives me life to create something out of nothing.
But the person in the song is not responding to the world in that way. And, for the past month, the song pretty accurately describes where I have harbored. I could barely write anything or challenge myself to tackle any difficult subjects or create any new characters for my half-finished novel. There is also the challenge that, at times, people do not respond well to what I write, and I wonder why I even bother. Then, many things in life just take time and cause us to wait.
I would love to be the perfect person in the movies that we envision being super busy doing important work and things happening at exactly the right time. Reality is usually not much like that. We wait for some things, not in a bypassing way like organized religion asks us to wait for things like the rapture and the second coming. Many times, we wait in silence for answers. Sometimes because there are no answers accessible to us and other times because things just take time to mature. Assuming things are true, as religion does, turns out to be what causes much of our anxiety. Whoever is to blame is debatable, but the reality is that we will often wait in silence!
If you have listened to anything that Laura and I have written over the past eight to 10 years, you will likely hear of our analysis that organized religion gets nervous around our grief and dysfunction. It wants to prescribe miracle, magical cures that instantly solve our problems or it gets uncomfortable and wants to bypass our emotions with catchphrases like the following:
Some of this activity regulates us for the moment but then leaves us in that almost eternal state of waiting silently that we discussed before. If we bring it up again in these high-control spaces, we risk being criticized, controlled, or left out of involvement with the group. In extreme situations, groups may try to cast out the evil or shame us, when what we most need is the simple solution that this song offers. We need someone to sit with us and be there for a "while."
How long is a "while?" It is just long enough for the other human being to look into our eyes and see we have empathy and compassion for them. This role of an empathetic witness is one of the most powerful healing tools I know of. When we reveal what we feel and where we feel it to someone who sits with us, and doesn't judge us or we don't die, we open the door to healing unprocessed trauma and toxic shame.
This approach demonstrates that what I need is very simple and you care enough to do it.
After my stroke, one of the first places they sent me was to acute rehab. They taught me how to shower, brush my teeth, and put on my clothes with two "affected" limbs. The other thing they did, on the first day, was they took me out in the hall and stood me up on my feet. My eyes are tearful as I write this because it was the initial step in restoring my dignity. They did not criticize me when I only took a few steps, but they applauded that I dared to try.
Every day, I repeat this exercise and I feel the same thing I felt that first day. Even though I understand that joints will be stiff and there are still limitations to my gate. I could easily fall and injure myself as I did my first week home. But I am empowered by what my physical therapist did for me that day -- she helped me stand -- now, I can help myself!
You help me walk.
To be honest, the first steps after a stroke are very simply moving your hips enough to lift the leg that has little control or strength. Josh Groban, the author of the song, describes his experience as walking on "stormy seas." In stroke recovery, this stormy sea metaphor may be a little bit of an understatement. There are all kinds of voices in our heads and physical adaptations to make as we try to rewire our brains to use these muscles again before they experience atrophy.
So, what does the physical therapist say? Usually, it is just a soft encouragement, not only to stand but to take "a few more steps." People call that the next courageous step. The physical therapist routinely repeats, "Okay let's try a few more."
Encouragement to walk on stormy seas is a helpful metaphor, whether or not you have experienced something like a stroke. Miracle thinking may give momentary relief or hope, but it does not solve our real problem. What we need most is to stand, and then take the next step into the challenge of our stormy sea.
Summary
I went through this again today, because my soul was weary, and my heart was troubled. I walk much better than I did two years ago, but I still have limitations. The limitation of the illustration of the stormy sea is that sometimes storms just pass. But things like trauma and stroke recovery are long-term, labor-intensive, and sometimes, life-long endeavors where we accomplish the little that we do.
Today, that meant acknowledging the songwriter that helped me stand and walk through the tears, and the physical challenges of writing this blog. As with everything I do, I hope this lifts you to stand up and take the next courageous step.
When I went through extended rehab for my stroke, I was able to witness people taking this first step. Most of them look at the therapist with a helpless look that seems to exclaim "I can't" and the therapist lifts them with their words and eye contact and sits with them long enough for the patient to prove to themselves that they can do it.
Then, they encourage them to take another step. Eventually, patients like me walk out of the facility with more confidence, dignity, and stamina than before. And, with the help of angels like my wife, Laura, I become more than I could be without them.
The down, weary, and troubled population of our world wants to know, "Will you come and sit a while with me?" You may not have to say anything. You may not have to do anything. And what you will do will likely be simple and come from your inner knowing and your deep compassion for those who need you.