Don't Carry the Cemetery With You

Let go of what weighs you down

I don’t know who needs to hear this profound line right now…but it keeps popping into my mind…which is usually an indicator to act. Don’t carry the cemetery with you. I wish I could claim ownership of this captivating concept but I can’t. That belongs, in part, to the indomitable Mrs. Charles E. Cowman.

After my mom died, I was culling through her collection of inspirational and prayer books and I came upon Streams in the Desert. What a great title. I was instantly drawn to it and it was one of those rare “right things at the right time” moments. Life felt like a desert at the time…the thought of a stream was a welcome relief.

Mrs. Cowman and her husband were devoted missionaries in Asia at the turn of the last century. Her husband's failing health brought them home stateside and during the six-year battle for his life, she compiled daily messages of faith, hope, and inspiration to aid and comfort others. It’s hard to fathom that her mission was to support people while she was in her own torment, but it speaks volumes to the remarkable person she was and the providential hand that was guiding her. After her husband’s passing, she published the collection of those extraordinary daily missives nearly 100 years ago in 1925 as Streams in the Desert. 

It’s been two and half years since I first discovered that jewel and although we are emerging from our own parched period, we still pour over it daily. My husband will read aloud as I’m in the kitchen prepping for the day and the nuggets of richly insightful and elucidating wisdom are so deeply thought-provoking, that we often chime in unison “that Mrs. Cowman!” When he was reading the entry for March 23 it was one of those cartoon “d’oh” moments that smacks you over the head. I even said “Oh my gosh…what a great line.” It was. It is.

Beyond Baggage
What struck me about the notion of carrying a cemetery is the visual image it conjures up and the immediate gravity it conveys…the heaviness is almost palpable. It far outweighs the term “emotional baggage,” which in comparison seems flippant…like whatever ails people can be easily and neatly tucked into a self-contained bag and toted along. But nothing is that easy and life is messy. Placing unresolved emotional issues and traumas into the “emotional baggage” trunk is far too passive; it shifts the responsibility of reconciliation to the uncomplicated act of transport.

But carrying a cemetery with you? That is a far heavier burden than any of us can handle for long. It’s an aggressive call to action that brilliantly illuminates how truly destructive festering emotions and traumas can be to our souls. Self-reflection is hard and can be terrifying. It’s not easy to shine a light on our emotional wounds, big or small, whatever they may be. But it’s even more arduous to act to resolve them. It’s much more comfortable to stuff them into a bag and have a ready excuse for why we are the way we are…which is temporary and ultimately destructive. 

Why bother…
Our cemeteries (I’m jettisoning baggage) can be many things: anger and frustrations, guilt and regret, fears, abuse, childhood traumas…there are so many experiences and events that leave serious marks. They can affect how we function, how we interact with and treat people, how we view ourselves, and ultimately how happy we are or are able to find joy in life. They are happiness thieves. But it can go way beyond our emotional welfare, these past experiences can also have a serious impact on our health. One study found they can become barriers to making good habits or maintaining healthy lifestyle choices…all issues that can take a toll on our well-being and prevent us from living fully and aging well.

We can’t un-ring bells from the past, but we can be open to recognizing them and starting the process to heal and change. Granted nothing is a quick fix, and I fully acknowledge that deep traumas require a long road to recovery, but we all have the ability to restore ourselves. There are many possible resources from trusted friends, mentors, and advisors; to self-directed reading materials such as devotional compilations, books of self-discovery and motivation; to outside help from clergy, counselors, and coaches.

I know for myself, the elder wisdom imparted by our cherished daily devotional is a guide that helps to reframe my perspective about life in general and provides a glimpse into human nature. In addition, the simple discipline of writing in a gratitude journal over the years has helped to train me to see trying travails and problematic people through a different lens. A lens less harsh.

Reframing my view
There was a period in my life where I didn’t reflect on my dad very fondly for a variety of reasons that aren’t germane to this post. My dad had many admirable qualities, but even when I was a young child, I thought he wasn’t well-suited for children. It wasn’t until many years into adulthood that I came to the ah-ha realization that he did the best he could with the tools he had. I reframed my view of him. I empathized that he had his own struggles. I no longer wistfully wished he had been someone different. I saw him through the lens of gratitude for the dad he tried hard to be. Viewing him through that lens has unburdened me from that cemetery.

The evolution with my dad has informed my perception of friends, colleagues, and people in general. It has helped me to understand that we all amass different tools as we go through life. We are all equipped differently. We all have our cemeteries that impact our interactions and relationships with others.

Whatever your cemetery, perhaps now is the time to embark on the quest of understanding and emancipation. The cemetery is too heavy a load to carry on our journey to live well, age great.

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Andrea and I have become almost obsessed with this godsend of a book, Streams in the Desert. We’ve purchased several as gifts and make a point to find the printings from the 20s through the 40s (usually on Ebay or Mercato) with the original language, which we find to be more philosophical and introspective than today’s diluted wording. (In fact, I’m starting to wonder if some of the vapid speech of modern times is part of our problems…another post.) Mrs. Cowman followed up with Springs in the Valley in 1939 and a second compendium—Streams in the Dessert, Volume 2—was published from her files and writings in 1966, six years after her death. We are forever grateful to have found Mrs. Cowman.