Oh, Maggie -
I am trying to decide if I am a coward or not. I thought I was ready to alert the sibs, but now that you say it, I feel reservations! What if they get angry? Well, duh, of course they are going to be angry. We are disrupting the status quo.
I found a quote that screamed at me:
"You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better." -Anne Lamott
Of course, I think our family behavior was compulsive, caused by pain. And our family pattern has promised shadows and secrecy. We have protected perpetrators by silencing victims for generations. But...do I wallow in guilt? A swamp is a great place to wallow. Am I still a captive of Catholicism? I feel so guilty, for being so mean. I remember our childhood and I feel like I was always such a bad person. We have chosen to go public, and now I am open to public reprimand from my siblings. Talk about vulnerable. It is the logical consequence of what we have chosen to do. Yeah, I can do it. I am already on the outside. What worse can happen? (Not that I'm tempting fate.)
I had one thought. You and S#3 took the most abuse at the hands of our brothers. I think perhaps she should be forewarned, and perhaps invited to join us before we include the others. The benefit is that she can be prepared. We both know this will be hardest for her - when we consider the other 7. But I don't want to play politics and manipulate family factions. Would that be unfair? Would the others be more hurt? I have always hated being excluded, I don't want to do that to anyone else.
So I'm dithering. Ready to be completely disowned? Decide - tell them all in one fell swoop, or let S#3 know ahead of time...
We will dissolve. If we reconnect, it will be different. It will be better.
Voice is an amazing gift. And you do have a voice that you use effectively. When you mentioned using voice to navigate the slime, I suddenly remembered playing Marco Polo in the swimming pool. Remember this game? We had to find each other, keeping eyes closed, just following voice. We have been playing Marco Polo in the swamp. Once the sibs, those who choose to, arrive we will have a bigger game. Our voices must be loud and strong. We need to be close - like, could you hold my hand? That request raised a lot of emotion in me.
I have daydreams of being recognized, of being great. I think perhaps it is because neither of our parents ever thought we were worth much, and so we are looking for that validation from the bigger world. But if it's not within, not seeded within, can there ever be enough recognition? Who do you want to recognize you? It's a big question. I had a taste of it. When the kids were young, I wrote a column about mothering. People in our county recognized my name and many commented - we were minor celebrities. It was fun. It was fulfilling, mostly because people said they loved my work. Is that enough? One person filled me more. She said something I wrote spoke to her deepest core thought and guilt and fear. That was more rewarding. (I wrote a column once that asked, What if I never had children?)
So who do we want to affirm us? How will the strength that comes from within be supported?
And doing too much...same story, same source...we feel we aren't enough. We must do more to be acceptable. Simplicity says...It's enough. And can I stretch that...it may even say, I'm enough.
Love, Clare
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Yes, I do like myself
Clare,
Simply showing up...I have a real block when it comes to simplicity.
I start out with the pure intention of simplicity...
I will just offer a place to meet...and then, somehow it takes on a life of its own...
cleaning, prepping, adding layer upon layer of complexity...
the only thing that stops my planning and preparation is time, when the event (or whatever) starts then I am done preparing.
I also look forward to this daily contact, I do a morning soul searching that keeps my mind engaged throughout the day.
It has rhythm, it has connection, it has purpose.
And yes it can be very simple...just words typed onto a screen....but incredibly powerful.
I was journaling this morning...grateful to the universe for this reprieve from the emotional roller coaster that we've been on since April...wondering what the next step will be.
I was hit with the word reconnection.
I think it is getting to be time to open this up to the other family members...at least let them know that it is here and they can read if they are so led. I know that you suggested it a while ago and it felt too raw still, but I think that this peace that I am feeling is giving me strength.
We can think about it, and decide what to do.
My daughter and I have been asking each other questions...
She was asking about my accomplishments and in my answer this morning I came to the conclusion that I do like myself.
I told her that my greatest accomplishment was finding my voice...
trusting my heart's voice to guide me into and through all of the slime and the swamp,
through all of the choices that I've made.
Sometimes those choices are rather scary...and are more like a leap of faith...but I don't regret them.
So, yes, I do like myself...at least the parts that I know.
I have made the bold statement in the past, that I feel that I have true greatness in me...
a feeling that drives me to learn and try new things.
I now wonder if I am overlooking the subtle clues that greatness may already be surrounding me and that my drive is blinding me to that.
I may be missing it hiding in plain sight.
Is ambition still driving me?
I honestly can't answer that. I no longer crave power and prestige...but a little recognition still entices me.
So Maggie is still a work in progress as we all are.
I have to run...a service man is here to do some work.
I love you,
Maggie
Simply showing up...I have a real block when it comes to simplicity.
I start out with the pure intention of simplicity...
I will just offer a place to meet...and then, somehow it takes on a life of its own...
cleaning, prepping, adding layer upon layer of complexity...
the only thing that stops my planning and preparation is time, when the event (or whatever) starts then I am done preparing.
I also look forward to this daily contact, I do a morning soul searching that keeps my mind engaged throughout the day.
It has rhythm, it has connection, it has purpose.
And yes it can be very simple...just words typed onto a screen....but incredibly powerful.
I was journaling this morning...grateful to the universe for this reprieve from the emotional roller coaster that we've been on since April...wondering what the next step will be.
I was hit with the word reconnection.
I think it is getting to be time to open this up to the other family members...at least let them know that it is here and they can read if they are so led. I know that you suggested it a while ago and it felt too raw still, but I think that this peace that I am feeling is giving me strength.
We can think about it, and decide what to do.
My daughter and I have been asking each other questions...
She was asking about my accomplishments and in my answer this morning I came to the conclusion that I do like myself.
I told her that my greatest accomplishment was finding my voice...
trusting my heart's voice to guide me into and through all of the slime and the swamp,
through all of the choices that I've made.
Sometimes those choices are rather scary...and are more like a leap of faith...but I don't regret them.
So, yes, I do like myself...at least the parts that I know.
I have made the bold statement in the past, that I feel that I have true greatness in me...
a feeling that drives me to learn and try new things.
I now wonder if I am overlooking the subtle clues that greatness may already be surrounding me and that my drive is blinding me to that.
I may be missing it hiding in plain sight.
Is ambition still driving me?
I honestly can't answer that. I no longer crave power and prestige...but a little recognition still entices me.
So Maggie is still a work in progress as we all are.
I have to run...a service man is here to do some work.
I love you,
Maggie
Monday, July 30, 2012
Just Show Up - Maybe it's Simple
I think grey is a marvelous choice. It is the color of obedience. And my spirit feels grey when I obey. I was thinking about black and white television, all shades of grey. When we wake up and lead ourselves, do what is right for us, maybe it all turns to color! Parts of my life have been very colorful!
I have an important question: Do you like yourself? You want your husband to like you, so that leads me to that deeper place of: Do you like you?
I am going to try to go there...but first, I looked at your list of experiences. I have a few comments from the outside, from someone who was watching. Being an actress is not all bad. It is not good to completely act, to not have anything authentic of self to offer the world. But being an actress is knowing how to shine, how to attract attention, how to demonstrate ways of being through your acting and star quality. That being on quality leads you to sing, leads you to teach. You would be a boring teacher without it. I think the actress is the facade, but not necessarily a lie.
And your leadership is not and never was hollow. Your lack of belief in yourself just made it feel so. You are a leader, because people listen, consider, and then some follow. What you have to say is never a lie or a pretense.
And the busy, busy, busy I understand. If you sit still you might feel, so keep moving! I have used this technique many times. Again, it's not all bad. It has put me in the middle of community. Right now I am on hiatus, without a car. I am not sure if I am doing this to myself, or if the universe has decided to slow me down. I am trusting, and waiting for way to open.
So the question of the day becomes: Do I like myself? Or maybe, if I met me, would I like me?
I don't completely and honestly know. Sometimes I think I am a cactus - all prickly on top of thick skin. The ooey, gooey is way inside and hard to access. I speak quickly without thought, and regret it for years. I beat myself up over cruel or thoughtless words. I have gotten much better about this now that I am older. But I still kick the young me around. I am hard to get close to, I think, so it's hard to know if I like me. Once close, yeah, I like me. My first instinct is always to kindness, even if my mouth misrepresents me.
Do I like me? Maybe not, since I am unwilling to share me. I isolate myself, which may answer the question about who is doing this to me...which makes me current life an act of cowardice not an act of faith.
On a semi-related front: Someone said something flirty recently. In typical form, it took me a few minutes to get it, to understand that someone was reaching out to me, inviting me to be closer. Then I shut down. I think of all the reasons I should not be liked. I list the things I need to improve before I am willing to be open. I know that this is a great way to not exactly give up, but to give up i truth. At least now I am seeing these moments more quickly and observing them without disgust at myself. In fact, I think I am beginning to amuse myself. Is this a good development?
About vacations, I read an article last year that said people need two weeks to really disengage from work and daily life. So we should have a three weeks away if we truly want to relax and have a vacation. This could be why you feel exhausted after a week. You were half way to detachment and you came back to daily life and reattached to too much.
How am I feeling about this daily dose of vulnerability? I look forward to this. I look forward to your responses. I enjoy exploring the paths I would not have seen on my own. I am recognizing some of my keys and triggers. But I also feel like I have a sister. I talk with S#3 fairly regularly - weeklyish, almost - and occasionally we go deep. But this time with you in virtual reality has been more consistent and more reliable. Thank you for showing up. I think knowing that you will be here provides more stability than I may have ever had. Strange, isn't it. And it's making me a bit sad to write that!
Maybe that's the key to life and love and relationships and healing...simply show up!
L&L, Clare
I have an important question: Do you like yourself? You want your husband to like you, so that leads me to that deeper place of: Do you like you?
I am going to try to go there...but first, I looked at your list of experiences. I have a few comments from the outside, from someone who was watching. Being an actress is not all bad. It is not good to completely act, to not have anything authentic of self to offer the world. But being an actress is knowing how to shine, how to attract attention, how to demonstrate ways of being through your acting and star quality. That being on quality leads you to sing, leads you to teach. You would be a boring teacher without it. I think the actress is the facade, but not necessarily a lie.
And your leadership is not and never was hollow. Your lack of belief in yourself just made it feel so. You are a leader, because people listen, consider, and then some follow. What you have to say is never a lie or a pretense.
And the busy, busy, busy I understand. If you sit still you might feel, so keep moving! I have used this technique many times. Again, it's not all bad. It has put me in the middle of community. Right now I am on hiatus, without a car. I am not sure if I am doing this to myself, or if the universe has decided to slow me down. I am trusting, and waiting for way to open.
So the question of the day becomes: Do I like myself? Or maybe, if I met me, would I like me?
I don't completely and honestly know. Sometimes I think I am a cactus - all prickly on top of thick skin. The ooey, gooey is way inside and hard to access. I speak quickly without thought, and regret it for years. I beat myself up over cruel or thoughtless words. I have gotten much better about this now that I am older. But I still kick the young me around. I am hard to get close to, I think, so it's hard to know if I like me. Once close, yeah, I like me. My first instinct is always to kindness, even if my mouth misrepresents me.
Do I like me? Maybe not, since I am unwilling to share me. I isolate myself, which may answer the question about who is doing this to me...which makes me current life an act of cowardice not an act of faith.
On a semi-related front: Someone said something flirty recently. In typical form, it took me a few minutes to get it, to understand that someone was reaching out to me, inviting me to be closer. Then I shut down. I think of all the reasons I should not be liked. I list the things I need to improve before I am willing to be open. I know that this is a great way to not exactly give up, but to give up i truth. At least now I am seeing these moments more quickly and observing them without disgust at myself. In fact, I think I am beginning to amuse myself. Is this a good development?
About vacations, I read an article last year that said people need two weeks to really disengage from work and daily life. So we should have a three weeks away if we truly want to relax and have a vacation. This could be why you feel exhausted after a week. You were half way to detachment and you came back to daily life and reattached to too much.
How am I feeling about this daily dose of vulnerability? I look forward to this. I look forward to your responses. I enjoy exploring the paths I would not have seen on my own. I am recognizing some of my keys and triggers. But I also feel like I have a sister. I talk with S#3 fairly regularly - weeklyish, almost - and occasionally we go deep. But this time with you in virtual reality has been more consistent and more reliable. Thank you for showing up. I think knowing that you will be here provides more stability than I may have ever had. Strange, isn't it. And it's making me a bit sad to write that!
Maybe that's the key to life and love and relationships and healing...simply show up!
L&L, Clare
Grey...I think it's grey
Grey...I think obedience is a dull grey...
absorbing almost everything that attempts to illuminate it...
sucking it up (pun intended).
I think it is meant to hide in plain sight and is acceptable because others can completely ignore it because it is so un-noticeable.
I have had little time and energy to think in the past 24 hours...
vacation hangover...
It is a strange tiredness that overtakes me when I return home.
It is as if my whole body relaxes and acknowledges that, despite the fun of travel, it is exhausting.
But it is a good tired. I spent yesterday mowing between downpours...and then grooming my horses.
Then I curled up on the couch with all of my house animals around me and read.
It was incredibly peaceful...thank you universe.
I was reading Mom's email of the weekend festivities. It seems that they all had a good time.
So, how are you feeling about our past and the perspective we've gained by sharing on an almost daily basis?
I hear the message of vulnerability and your willingness to be open.
I am still feeling at peace...waiting for the next round of memories or emotions to crack open.
It is peaceful with a touch of dread/anticipation...if that makes sense.
I feel stronger than I have in a long time.
I feel as if I am being prepared for something more...
The like/love distinction is incredibly important.
One of the issues that I had within my own marriage, before we separated, was that my husband didn't really like me.
He was too busy to get to know me, to talk with me, to be intimate without being physical.
I remember one evening talking to my oldest and breaking down into tears...
I cried that I wished her father would just like me for who I am...
not the image that I created to join his "main line" world and please his family and friends.
I sold myself out to fit in...
Now I am reclaiming myself.
I am 50 years old and being re-born. It is extremely difficult to know who you are, at the core, when you've spent most of your life pretending to be anything other than yourself.
When I was very young and went to school I pretended to be perfect...to have it all together. Throughout middle school and high school I was a leader, but no one ever saw how hollow I was...it was all a facade...I needed positive reinforcement from some source...it wasn't coming from home...so I sought it by overachieving in my classes and extracurricular activities...
I went to college and again overachieved...with success.
I learned alot in med school...that I wasn't the superstar that I believed I was...in that cohort I was average...I learned to tread water...maintain passing grades and never let anyone see me sweat.
Residency was much like that...I was constantly stressed about having that much responsibility...I spent alot of time hiding my weaknesses and things that I didn't know...I am still overcome with an incredibly sick feeling when I remember one patient that I almost killed because of my ignorance...and fatigue.
I practiced medicine and quickly gave up hospital work...too stressful.
I became a Mom and retired from medicine...
became super-volunteer...I could handle most projects with ease...
and never let them see me sweat.
Then a professor...I started to express and show vulnerability here. I am willing to say, out loud, if I don't know something and then look it up and report back.
Now in grad school. Trying to be top of my class...again...
getting into research...but this time because it fascinates me...engages my interest...sparks me.
But who am I in all of that?
How do I sift the grain from the straw and end up with pure Maggie?
I was taught, domesticated, early on not to trust my own instincts and judgement...
but I rebelled to a certain extent.
I left an successful career...left the Catholic church...demanded a real relationship in my marriage... disclosed the family secrets...
I am becoming more visible...less of a grey thread.
So how do I know what is authentically Maggie?
Blessings,
Maggie
absorbing almost everything that attempts to illuminate it...
sucking it up (pun intended).
I think it is meant to hide in plain sight and is acceptable because others can completely ignore it because it is so un-noticeable.
I have had little time and energy to think in the past 24 hours...
vacation hangover...
It is a strange tiredness that overtakes me when I return home.
It is as if my whole body relaxes and acknowledges that, despite the fun of travel, it is exhausting.
But it is a good tired. I spent yesterday mowing between downpours...and then grooming my horses.
Then I curled up on the couch with all of my house animals around me and read.
It was incredibly peaceful...thank you universe.
I was reading Mom's email of the weekend festivities. It seems that they all had a good time.
So, how are you feeling about our past and the perspective we've gained by sharing on an almost daily basis?
I hear the message of vulnerability and your willingness to be open.
I am still feeling at peace...waiting for the next round of memories or emotions to crack open.
It is peaceful with a touch of dread/anticipation...if that makes sense.
I feel stronger than I have in a long time.
I feel as if I am being prepared for something more...
The like/love distinction is incredibly important.
One of the issues that I had within my own marriage, before we separated, was that my husband didn't really like me.
He was too busy to get to know me, to talk with me, to be intimate without being physical.
I remember one evening talking to my oldest and breaking down into tears...
I cried that I wished her father would just like me for who I am...
not the image that I created to join his "main line" world and please his family and friends.
I sold myself out to fit in...
Now I am reclaiming myself.
I am 50 years old and being re-born. It is extremely difficult to know who you are, at the core, when you've spent most of your life pretending to be anything other than yourself.
When I was very young and went to school I pretended to be perfect...to have it all together. Throughout middle school and high school I was a leader, but no one ever saw how hollow I was...it was all a facade...I needed positive reinforcement from some source...it wasn't coming from home...so I sought it by overachieving in my classes and extracurricular activities...
I went to college and again overachieved...with success.
I learned alot in med school...that I wasn't the superstar that I believed I was...in that cohort I was average...I learned to tread water...maintain passing grades and never let anyone see me sweat.
Residency was much like that...I was constantly stressed about having that much responsibility...I spent alot of time hiding my weaknesses and things that I didn't know...I am still overcome with an incredibly sick feeling when I remember one patient that I almost killed because of my ignorance...and fatigue.
I practiced medicine and quickly gave up hospital work...too stressful.
I became a Mom and retired from medicine...
became super-volunteer...I could handle most projects with ease...
and never let them see me sweat.
Then a professor...I started to express and show vulnerability here. I am willing to say, out loud, if I don't know something and then look it up and report back.
Now in grad school. Trying to be top of my class...again...
getting into research...but this time because it fascinates me...engages my interest...sparks me.
But who am I in all of that?
How do I sift the grain from the straw and end up with pure Maggie?
I was taught, domesticated, early on not to trust my own instincts and judgement...
but I rebelled to a certain extent.
I left an successful career...left the Catholic church...demanded a real relationship in my marriage... disclosed the family secrets...
I am becoming more visible...less of a grey thread.
So how do I know what is authentically Maggie?
Blessings,
Maggie
Sunday, July 29, 2012
What color is obedience?
I have been working two or three weekends a month for the past two months, trying to get ahead. The bills are paid through the end of August, but I still don't have the money for my bus ticket. Could you lend me that? I will ask off line...but I am trying to model vulnerability, and avoid the feelings of helplessness. Not totally successful, but I'm still standing. I loved your I would love to answer, though. Thank you for that.
The strings inspired me to think of Gulliver's Travels, when the little people have Gulliver staked down on the beach with threads. Another use of threads, I suppose. I think I have a bit of that...allowing the threads, those continually connecting repeating threads, to tie me down, to paralyze me. The problem is identifying them, sometimes. The mis-messages are such a part of our heritage and our family pattern that they seem real and logical and true. I have identified some of them. I notice others, I know they are there, but haven't quite named them. But I think there are still some lurking inside my consciousness, polluting my world view, hiding in plain sight
I read something years ago that talked of the coming evolution, the changes we have ahead of us, as a species. It mentioned that as long as we don't accept each other, as long as we reject each other based on perceived differences, we aren't going anywhere. So not only do we have to see humans of all nationalities and races as part of us, but we must also see people of all classes and mental capabilities as part of us. I met a man who was a Plowshares activist. These activists symbolically destroy military equipment and wait to be arrested. They use their trial as a forum to make public statements. While he served his prison time, he said he tried to serve those who fall through the cracks. Just as we let people fall through the cracks in general society, so is it mirrored in prison society. I thought of the homeless, the hungry, the toothless, the people we just don't see in our daily lives. They are there, we don't see them.
I really appreciated the image of the prism. And we do have to be as one to be bright and clear together. This makes me consider the Quaker understanding of the Light that shines in all. I knew it shined on us/for us. I never thought about us shining back.
I don't think I have forgotten that we are animals. And my interactions with the animals that have lived with me reminds me that I prefer to be aware of my instinctual nature. We are tamed and domesticated. It's funny, when I was talking to my friend on Friday, she also mentioned Women Who Run With the Wolves. also recommending this book. She talked about a chapter that describes the way women are domesticated into homeworkers and the effect on her life. We buy into being tamed. Over and over I see, think, recognize, we are tamed because we cooperate. We need to stop being so obedient.
What color do you think the obedience thread is?
Like and love...I remember realizing that my ex truly loved me, but he really didn't like me. I was so different, that he didn't get it. Liking is great, both together is so important.
Like,
Clare
The strings inspired me to think of Gulliver's Travels, when the little people have Gulliver staked down on the beach with threads. Another use of threads, I suppose. I think I have a bit of that...allowing the threads, those continually connecting repeating threads, to tie me down, to paralyze me. The problem is identifying them, sometimes. The mis-messages are such a part of our heritage and our family pattern that they seem real and logical and true. I have identified some of them. I notice others, I know they are there, but haven't quite named them. But I think there are still some lurking inside my consciousness, polluting my world view, hiding in plain sight
I read something years ago that talked of the coming evolution, the changes we have ahead of us, as a species. It mentioned that as long as we don't accept each other, as long as we reject each other based on perceived differences, we aren't going anywhere. So not only do we have to see humans of all nationalities and races as part of us, but we must also see people of all classes and mental capabilities as part of us. I met a man who was a Plowshares activist. These activists symbolically destroy military equipment and wait to be arrested. They use their trial as a forum to make public statements. While he served his prison time, he said he tried to serve those who fall through the cracks. Just as we let people fall through the cracks in general society, so is it mirrored in prison society. I thought of the homeless, the hungry, the toothless, the people we just don't see in our daily lives. They are there, we don't see them.
I really appreciated the image of the prism. And we do have to be as one to be bright and clear together. This makes me consider the Quaker understanding of the Light that shines in all. I knew it shined on us/for us. I never thought about us shining back.
I don't think I have forgotten that we are animals. And my interactions with the animals that have lived with me reminds me that I prefer to be aware of my instinctual nature. We are tamed and domesticated. It's funny, when I was talking to my friend on Friday, she also mentioned Women Who Run With the Wolves. also recommending this book. She talked about a chapter that describes the way women are domesticated into homeworkers and the effect on her life. We buy into being tamed. Over and over I see, think, recognize, we are tamed because we cooperate. We need to stop being so obedient.
What color do you think the obedience thread is?
Like and love...I remember realizing that my ex truly loved me, but he really didn't like me. I was so different, that he didn't get it. Liking is great, both together is so important.
Like,
Clare
We are all animals
Clare,
I would love to help you to visit your family. Just let me know what you need.
On Friday I was kayaking and started to sing The Rose by Bette Midler...
Some say love it is a river, that drowns the tender reed...
It was great...and I wasn't quiet about it at all...so sail in your boat and sing solo.
I've been playing with the 'thread' analogy while I am mowing. I first heard of the threads holding us away from our spiritual home from St. John of the Cross, a mystic from the 1200's. And I love that my current reading is reinforcing that notion...to fully unravel the Truth you must examine each of the threads.
Those threads that bind and paralyze...even if they are only thin threads...
shame, self-blame, secrecy, isolation, fear.
As I was driving to Meeting this morning I saw a sign that quoted Abraham Lincoln...to paraphrase it, We cannot create the brotherhood of man until we recognize the power of racism and class-ism.
That made me jump to Lipton's analogy of the next coming of Christ being a pure white Light.
When the Light is passed through a prism it separates into a multitude of colors...
each a component of the whole...creating white.
If you take away any of those colors and pass it backwards through the prism the result will not be pure white...but something less.
We, as a people, (humanity) cannot come together and create the perfect communion if we reject or exclude anyone.
We need to include all, in spite of their differences to us and our values.
We are animals...and yes, we have forgotten that we are animals.
We are programmed by our genes just as any other organism is.
I believe that humans are inherently good...
they are, after all, created in the image of the Creator.
We are all taught differently, depending upon our early experiences...
and by the experiences of our parents and their ancestors.
We carry the past, from generation to generation, by silencing or altering the expression of our genes.
We are taught to react...as you said to hate and kill those we have been told are less than us...
therefore less than human...
and yet they have families at home who have trained them, and hopefully loved them as they live.
We are domesticated as Ruiz says in The Four Agreements...
I have been coming around, full circle to inclusion...
Me Too...
as individuals we suffer in silence...
but "where two or more are gathered"...now that's powerful
If we recognize that we are not the only ones...
if we see similarities...
then we will have to accept others and hopefully love them.
A few years ago I struggled with a very simple lyric...
it was about appreciating those I love and those I don't...
I was trying to use the word "like" in place of love...
but love is about seeing the inner Light and respecting that in each person...
like and liking someone is a choice.
I can love someone and dislike them or their actions.
The rain storm has passed and I have to finish mowing the lawn. I will check in tomorrow morning.
Blessings,
Maggie
I would love to help you to visit your family. Just let me know what you need.
On Friday I was kayaking and started to sing The Rose by Bette Midler...
Some say love it is a river, that drowns the tender reed...
It was great...and I wasn't quiet about it at all...so sail in your boat and sing solo.
I've been playing with the 'thread' analogy while I am mowing. I first heard of the threads holding us away from our spiritual home from St. John of the Cross, a mystic from the 1200's. And I love that my current reading is reinforcing that notion...to fully unravel the Truth you must examine each of the threads.
Those threads that bind and paralyze...even if they are only thin threads...
shame, self-blame, secrecy, isolation, fear.
As I was driving to Meeting this morning I saw a sign that quoted Abraham Lincoln...to paraphrase it, We cannot create the brotherhood of man until we recognize the power of racism and class-ism.
That made me jump to Lipton's analogy of the next coming of Christ being a pure white Light.
When the Light is passed through a prism it separates into a multitude of colors...
each a component of the whole...creating white.
If you take away any of those colors and pass it backwards through the prism the result will not be pure white...but something less.
We, as a people, (humanity) cannot come together and create the perfect communion if we reject or exclude anyone.
We need to include all, in spite of their differences to us and our values.
We are animals...and yes, we have forgotten that we are animals.
We are programmed by our genes just as any other organism is.
I believe that humans are inherently good...
they are, after all, created in the image of the Creator.
We are all taught differently, depending upon our early experiences...
and by the experiences of our parents and their ancestors.
We carry the past, from generation to generation, by silencing or altering the expression of our genes.
We are taught to react...as you said to hate and kill those we have been told are less than us...
therefore less than human...
and yet they have families at home who have trained them, and hopefully loved them as they live.
We are domesticated as Ruiz says in The Four Agreements...
I have been coming around, full circle to inclusion...
Me Too...
as individuals we suffer in silence...
but "where two or more are gathered"...now that's powerful
If we recognize that we are not the only ones...
if we see similarities...
then we will have to accept others and hopefully love them.
A few years ago I struggled with a very simple lyric...
it was about appreciating those I love and those I don't...
I was trying to use the word "like" in place of love...
but love is about seeing the inner Light and respecting that in each person...
like and liking someone is a choice.
I can love someone and dislike them or their actions.
The rain storm has passed and I have to finish mowing the lawn. I will check in tomorrow morning.
Blessings,
Maggie
Saturday, July 28, 2012
soloing
Maggie's On the Road Again, just can't wait to get on the road again...(Willie Nelson) and so I am All By Myself, don't wanna be all by myself anymore...(Eric Carmen). So I get to sing alone today!
I had a conversation this morning that has stayed with me. Are humans intrinsically good or intrinsically bad? Are we evolving to something that is better and kinder and gentler? Or are we devolving into something less intelligent, less kind? And I will add, less connected?
My conversational partner thinks that our culture is becoming richer and that we are becoming something more, something better as a species. I think that if we continue on the path we're on - or the majority of us are on - we are going to disappear completely into chaos only controlled by slavery. We will be owned by our possessions and our institutions. My conversational partner feels that we have come a long way from being animals. I think we have simply forgotten that we are animals.
Animals don't kill except to eat. Most animals will not kill their own species. I've mentioned Dave Grossman before, the writer who submits that for the most part, humans won't kill their own kind either. But in the presence of violent brainwashing, we can be tricked into overcoming our humanity and kill - for no reason. We can also be convinced that some of our own are not human, making it even easier to kill. It is human to defend what we treasure. That is also played against us.
Animals don't torture their babies. Remember when my dog had puppies in the car? Some of them chilled, and she stopped taking care of them. I was distraught, but a dog expert explained that she was simply putting her energy into the pups that would survive. She did not hit them or rape them. She simply nurtured life. When I warmed them, she licked them and took them back. Her instinct let her know the pup would survive. Perhaps in our attempt to distance ourselves from our animal self, we have abandoned instinct. It is instinctual to tend our young.
Animals recognize and respect boundaries. If the population grows and there is pressure, they will fight for dominance. But they don't fight to the death - like we do.
I think I idolize the indigenous people, and I know they weren't perfect. I know there was violence, but the basic culture was humane. Men and women led equally. Boundaries were recognized and respected. Warriors defended, there was no such thing as preemptive war. Rape was unheard of - probably because men and women led together. Children were not taught by physical violence. But this dominant culture destroyed and replaced that culture. And this culture is destroying our humanity.
Our culture - I get so sick of our Spare the rod mentality. I imagine that phrase came from the image of Christ as a Good Shepherd. Consider a sheep going astray, getting caught in brambles. Can you imagine a Christ-like peaceful figure beating the sheep? That would drive them deeper into the thicket. The shepherds crook was made to gently catch the sheep and back it out out the thorns. The rod sets boundaries, directs. It is not a weapon designed to abuse sheep or children.
So I'm blathering. I think I will get on with my day. I think we are taking little ones to the town fair, then they may stay overnight here.
Soloing - I like to sing, but I dream of soloing in a sailboat. The fact that I have never sailed doesn't phase me in the least!! The image of sailing on a swamp came unbidden to my brain. That would not work. I think I must leave my swamp in order to sail. Maybe we're like salmon, we are supposed to leave, then come home when it's time...we weren't supposed to sit here, hiding, for all of these years...
Safe travels dear ones.
Love, Clare
I had a conversation this morning that has stayed with me. Are humans intrinsically good or intrinsically bad? Are we evolving to something that is better and kinder and gentler? Or are we devolving into something less intelligent, less kind? And I will add, less connected?
My conversational partner thinks that our culture is becoming richer and that we are becoming something more, something better as a species. I think that if we continue on the path we're on - or the majority of us are on - we are going to disappear completely into chaos only controlled by slavery. We will be owned by our possessions and our institutions. My conversational partner feels that we have come a long way from being animals. I think we have simply forgotten that we are animals.
Animals don't kill except to eat. Most animals will not kill their own species. I've mentioned Dave Grossman before, the writer who submits that for the most part, humans won't kill their own kind either. But in the presence of violent brainwashing, we can be tricked into overcoming our humanity and kill - for no reason. We can also be convinced that some of our own are not human, making it even easier to kill. It is human to defend what we treasure. That is also played against us.
Animals don't torture their babies. Remember when my dog had puppies in the car? Some of them chilled, and she stopped taking care of them. I was distraught, but a dog expert explained that she was simply putting her energy into the pups that would survive. She did not hit them or rape them. She simply nurtured life. When I warmed them, she licked them and took them back. Her instinct let her know the pup would survive. Perhaps in our attempt to distance ourselves from our animal self, we have abandoned instinct. It is instinctual to tend our young.
Animals recognize and respect boundaries. If the population grows and there is pressure, they will fight for dominance. But they don't fight to the death - like we do.
I think I idolize the indigenous people, and I know they weren't perfect. I know there was violence, but the basic culture was humane. Men and women led equally. Boundaries were recognized and respected. Warriors defended, there was no such thing as preemptive war. Rape was unheard of - probably because men and women led together. Children were not taught by physical violence. But this dominant culture destroyed and replaced that culture. And this culture is destroying our humanity.
Our culture - I get so sick of our Spare the rod mentality. I imagine that phrase came from the image of Christ as a Good Shepherd. Consider a sheep going astray, getting caught in brambles. Can you imagine a Christ-like peaceful figure beating the sheep? That would drive them deeper into the thicket. The shepherds crook was made to gently catch the sheep and back it out out the thorns. The rod sets boundaries, directs. It is not a weapon designed to abuse sheep or children.
So I'm blathering. I think I will get on with my day. I think we are taking little ones to the town fair, then they may stay overnight here.
Soloing - I like to sing, but I dream of soloing in a sailboat. The fact that I have never sailed doesn't phase me in the least!! The image of sailing on a swamp came unbidden to my brain. That would not work. I think I must leave my swamp in order to sail. Maybe we're like salmon, we are supposed to leave, then come home when it's time...we weren't supposed to sit here, hiding, for all of these years...
Safe travels dear ones.
Love, Clare
Friday, July 27, 2012
Is it a blanket or a quilt?
Your last post appealed to me. I am a knitter and spinner, and I love the meditative quality of each of the arts. When I spin, I watch a splay of fibers become a neatly twisted string. Then I ply the strings into a strong yarn. All of those different strands become one and flow through my fingers. Then I take my yarns and make hats or mittens, or lately - baby booties. I love the process of choosing and blending colors, of laying one color over another. I read your description of a blanket, and had the vision of a blanket - strong and soft - supporting us above the swamp, hanging like a hammock from something above. It has always tickled me that spinning yarns has two meanings. For, here, together, we are spinning our yarns.
Your description of the blanket also inspired me to look at tartan patterns. We are allowed to wear the Bruce tartan, because of our ancestry. But here are several tartans for different branches of the family, and I don't really know which we are. But I thought about the colors and hues we bring to our family blanket. I thought about how much we each add to or withhold from the piece. Maybe by withholding, we only cast a shadow and muddy the patterns. There are so many of us, the pattern would have to be intricate. Yet we are so separate, I think we might just be holding our quilt square, wondering if it even fits with the family quilt any more...Yeah, I know, I switched symbols in mid-stream. Not sure if we are quilted or woven, I guess!
I talked to an old friend for a few hours today. We reckoned that we have been part of each other's lives for about 22 years. She is back in school following a passion for nutrition. She counsels people, and used the word rebirth to describe what she does. I mentioned the birthing process involved in climbing out of the swamp. She rethought her language and said she's actually working with a youthening process. She wants to flood cells with minerals and vitamins to restore vitality and bring back the health associated with youth. Of course my brain went into overdrive looking for ways to share the image. The best I could do was wonder if we are shining light on all the dark places - Light being a spiritual nutrient. And enlivening ourselves. We are rebirthing from the coma our life has been, and being born for the first time...truly alive, truly in the Light.
I read something briefly today, I can't remember where, but it talked about removing your clothes and standing naked. The idea was not to try to cover yourself as soon as possible, but remain vulnerable and visible. Psychologically, that is what I am trying to do, here...I think. At least I think I am...
I had an interesting day. While I was working, my neighbors brought me a bucket of fresh picked pickling cucumbers and a few super-zucchinis. So I made garlic dill pickles and I grated a lot of zucchini. I grate it, then press it into a one cup measure. I put the molded form on a cookie sheet and freeze it, then store the premeasured blocks in a ziploc bag. I can grab one cup of zucchini all winter long. I like to have it for zucchini bread, a favorite with soups in the winter, or to throw into a pasta sauce to up our veggie intake. After that I rubbed the seeds loose from dried kale seed pods and put seeds away for next year. This work makes me feel so content. I love experimenting with preserving foods right from the garden. I love the feeling of being self-sufficient and of knowing where my food came from. It's nice to remember what makes me feel - content. Content is really the best word. I feel like singing softly while I work.
I hope you are yours will have a safe trip home. I may post tomorrow, but I am working in the morning and will have grandbabies in the afternoon and overnight
Back in May you offered to help me, so that I could get out to visit my son and his wife. I did not have the freedom to go then. I have been working most weekends, trying to get ahead, so I can go now. I have my bills paid through and will be able to pay rent, but I don't have a bus ticket yet. And yes, I have decided to take a bus. So I am going to ask for your help. I am asking here publicly, and feeling some shame and a lot of vulnerability.
I was awake fretting about money last night when I suddenly thought - my life is so stupid. This financial stress all the time is so stupid!!!! But that is my issue, and I still have time to figure it out!
Love from Clare
Yeah - a tornado touched down just south of us, along the state line. Our electric was out for a few hours. I read and slept.
Your description of the blanket also inspired me to look at tartan patterns. We are allowed to wear the Bruce tartan, because of our ancestry. But here are several tartans for different branches of the family, and I don't really know which we are. But I thought about the colors and hues we bring to our family blanket. I thought about how much we each add to or withhold from the piece. Maybe by withholding, we only cast a shadow and muddy the patterns. There are so many of us, the pattern would have to be intricate. Yet we are so separate, I think we might just be holding our quilt square, wondering if it even fits with the family quilt any more...Yeah, I know, I switched symbols in mid-stream. Not sure if we are quilted or woven, I guess!
I talked to an old friend for a few hours today. We reckoned that we have been part of each other's lives for about 22 years. She is back in school following a passion for nutrition. She counsels people, and used the word rebirth to describe what she does. I mentioned the birthing process involved in climbing out of the swamp. She rethought her language and said she's actually working with a youthening process. She wants to flood cells with minerals and vitamins to restore vitality and bring back the health associated with youth. Of course my brain went into overdrive looking for ways to share the image. The best I could do was wonder if we are shining light on all the dark places - Light being a spiritual nutrient. And enlivening ourselves. We are rebirthing from the coma our life has been, and being born for the first time...truly alive, truly in the Light.
I read something briefly today, I can't remember where, but it talked about removing your clothes and standing naked. The idea was not to try to cover yourself as soon as possible, but remain vulnerable and visible. Psychologically, that is what I am trying to do, here...I think. At least I think I am...
I had an interesting day. While I was working, my neighbors brought me a bucket of fresh picked pickling cucumbers and a few super-zucchinis. So I made garlic dill pickles and I grated a lot of zucchini. I grate it, then press it into a one cup measure. I put the molded form on a cookie sheet and freeze it, then store the premeasured blocks in a ziploc bag. I can grab one cup of zucchini all winter long. I like to have it for zucchini bread, a favorite with soups in the winter, or to throw into a pasta sauce to up our veggie intake. After that I rubbed the seeds loose from dried kale seed pods and put seeds away for next year. This work makes me feel so content. I love experimenting with preserving foods right from the garden. I love the feeling of being self-sufficient and of knowing where my food came from. It's nice to remember what makes me feel - content. Content is really the best word. I feel like singing softly while I work.
I hope you are yours will have a safe trip home. I may post tomorrow, but I am working in the morning and will have grandbabies in the afternoon and overnight
Back in May you offered to help me, so that I could get out to visit my son and his wife. I did not have the freedom to go then. I have been working most weekends, trying to get ahead, so I can go now. I have my bills paid through and will be able to pay rent, but I don't have a bus ticket yet. And yes, I have decided to take a bus. So I am going to ask for your help. I am asking here publicly, and feeling some shame and a lot of vulnerability.
I was awake fretting about money last night when I suddenly thought - my life is so stupid. This financial stress all the time is so stupid!!!! But that is my issue, and I still have time to figure it out!
Love from Clare
Yeah - a tornado touched down just south of us, along the state line. Our electric was out for a few hours. I read and slept.
sticky web or comforting blanket?
Good morning Clare,
The power of storms always amazes me.
I love the wind especially. Maybe it has to do with my dreams of flying.
Any tornadoes last night?
I, too, believe that we are in communion with the Earth...
composed of the same elements...arranged in a slightly different orientation.
Our bodies are mostly water.
The cell is a microcosm of the body...it is just a different scale. Each cell is vital to the health of the whole organism. Each cell is specifically differentiated to perform a necessary task.
None are truly dispensable.
There are certain cells that direct and some that follow directions...
all responding to the stresses in their environment at the present.
I've been thinking about the threads that we talked about a while ago.
I've also been reading Brene Brown's book and she uses threads as an analogy throughout.
She said that we are given threads and we can choose to weave a spider's web in which to catch ourselves and others in shame ...
or we can, together, weave a beautiful blanket to comfort and support us.
She also talks about putting events into context to more fully understand our own and others' experiences and shame...
she writes, "We can't unravel the truth without recognizing the threads."
Sometimes those threads are difficult to acknowledge...sometimes they are downright painful...but by gaining perspective and understanding context they are incorporated into the blanket. They will eventually blend into the blanket and become part of the whole.
The weaving or spinning of stories, shared in a community, large or small, is an ancient practice.
The passing of traditions and wisdom through the woven tapestry of story or song is a priceless practice.
Each thread is important to the whole...
each is weak when alone...but together they create a combined strength that can withstand great forces.
But, if one breaks...or is damaged...the whole blanket can unravel...
unless the remainder support it and allow it to heal or repair and recreate the whole...
scarred, but strong.
This is how family should function...
not ignore the weak threads and pretend that the holes throughout aren't really there.
Despite that, all of this makes me tremendously optimistic about the future.
The damage that was done will never be forgotten.
The scars remain for all who have eyes to see them.
But, by spinning our stories together, creating a blanket, we become stronger and more beautiful.
Every time someone says "Me Too" the blanket grows bigger and stronger.
When I wrote The Quilt it was about all of the pieces of my life being put together throughout this lifetime. Some pieces seem enormously important at the time that I am working on them...but turn out to be rather ordinary experiences.
others seem incidental, but then turn out to be tremendously significant to my life.
You never know what the quilt will look like...until it is complete...
then the integrity and beauty of the lifetime will be apparent...
and then, only when appreciated in context....historical...societal...personal.
I am traveling tomorrow...
I will be back on Sunday.
Blessings until then,
Maggie
The power of storms always amazes me.
I love the wind especially. Maybe it has to do with my dreams of flying.
Any tornadoes last night?
I, too, believe that we are in communion with the Earth...
composed of the same elements...arranged in a slightly different orientation.
Our bodies are mostly water.
The cell is a microcosm of the body...it is just a different scale. Each cell is vital to the health of the whole organism. Each cell is specifically differentiated to perform a necessary task.
None are truly dispensable.
There are certain cells that direct and some that follow directions...
all responding to the stresses in their environment at the present.
I've been thinking about the threads that we talked about a while ago.
I've also been reading Brene Brown's book and she uses threads as an analogy throughout.
She said that we are given threads and we can choose to weave a spider's web in which to catch ourselves and others in shame ...
or we can, together, weave a beautiful blanket to comfort and support us.
She also talks about putting events into context to more fully understand our own and others' experiences and shame...
she writes, "We can't unravel the truth without recognizing the threads."
Sometimes those threads are difficult to acknowledge...sometimes they are downright painful...but by gaining perspective and understanding context they are incorporated into the blanket. They will eventually blend into the blanket and become part of the whole.
The weaving or spinning of stories, shared in a community, large or small, is an ancient practice.
The passing of traditions and wisdom through the woven tapestry of story or song is a priceless practice.
Each thread is important to the whole...
each is weak when alone...but together they create a combined strength that can withstand great forces.
But, if one breaks...or is damaged...the whole blanket can unravel...
unless the remainder support it and allow it to heal or repair and recreate the whole...
scarred, but strong.
This is how family should function...
not ignore the weak threads and pretend that the holes throughout aren't really there.
Despite that, all of this makes me tremendously optimistic about the future.
The damage that was done will never be forgotten.
The scars remain for all who have eyes to see them.
But, by spinning our stories together, creating a blanket, we become stronger and more beautiful.
Every time someone says "Me Too" the blanket grows bigger and stronger.
When I wrote The Quilt it was about all of the pieces of my life being put together throughout this lifetime. Some pieces seem enormously important at the time that I am working on them...but turn out to be rather ordinary experiences.
others seem incidental, but then turn out to be tremendously significant to my life.
You never know what the quilt will look like...until it is complete...
then the integrity and beauty of the lifetime will be apparent...
and then, only when appreciated in context....historical...societal...personal.
I am traveling tomorrow...
I will be back on Sunday.
Blessings until then,
Maggie
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Sing Loud, Laugh Louder
Hi Maggie,
We are on tornado watch, with a possibility of a hail storm. Isn't life exciting?
It came to me years ago, knowing the Earth is feminine, that the women's movement and the environmental movement were coincidental for a reason - or not coincidental at all. Both were recognizing and freeing the power of the feminine. Society is terrified of that power. That is why only the maiden is valued, which makes it both freeing (I am invisible) and painful (I am of no consequence) to be the crone.
I think that since we are of the Earth, our experiences mirror each other - the planet and the people. We are going through the same pain. So today, the Earth will seek balance by unleashing the power of the tornado, perhaps, or maybe she will shed frozen tears. Rather than fear, I feel excited to be present at this cleansing, to be part of this cleansing. I think our personal awakening is part of this process. We have our own inner cyclones which rearrange parts of us, shred and compost parts of us. The earth has been raped and victimized just as we have been. Sometimes I go and lie on her and just feel the connection. I am part of this. I am healing this. I am being healed by this. I am loving this.
We control the Earth, we control women. I am shocked and a bit angry that anyone would try to silence you or expect specific womanly behaviors from you. You are allowed to be silent if you want. As a Quaker, I do understand that silence is uncomfortable for many. But lead the way into silence! And laughing loudly is joy. F*** unwomanly. The fun of being with you is that you are not afraid to sing at the top of your lungs! My youngest's fondest memory of you is at Mamma Mia! the sing along version - singing your heart out, encouraging the girls - mine and yours - to sing, too. If your husband isn't comfortable, it's his issue, and you are not responsible for his issue. I say this as lovingly as possible. I sing in the garden - loud enough for the neighbor's to hear. I serenade the world.
I have never been with dolphins. I would love to be in their presence, and maybe even interact. But I would not like to visit dolphins in captivity. I do not want to approve of the way we treat animals ( and women, and children...)
The rain has begun and there is thunder in the distance. I love storms. But I think I will finish and close this down so I don't risk losing my computer.
Have another wonderful day. I love you!!
Clare
We are on tornado watch, with a possibility of a hail storm. Isn't life exciting?
It came to me years ago, knowing the Earth is feminine, that the women's movement and the environmental movement were coincidental for a reason - or not coincidental at all. Both were recognizing and freeing the power of the feminine. Society is terrified of that power. That is why only the maiden is valued, which makes it both freeing (I am invisible) and painful (I am of no consequence) to be the crone.
I think that since we are of the Earth, our experiences mirror each other - the planet and the people. We are going through the same pain. So today, the Earth will seek balance by unleashing the power of the tornado, perhaps, or maybe she will shed frozen tears. Rather than fear, I feel excited to be present at this cleansing, to be part of this cleansing. I think our personal awakening is part of this process. We have our own inner cyclones which rearrange parts of us, shred and compost parts of us. The earth has been raped and victimized just as we have been. Sometimes I go and lie on her and just feel the connection. I am part of this. I am healing this. I am being healed by this. I am loving this.
We control the Earth, we control women. I am shocked and a bit angry that anyone would try to silence you or expect specific womanly behaviors from you. You are allowed to be silent if you want. As a Quaker, I do understand that silence is uncomfortable for many. But lead the way into silence! And laughing loudly is joy. F*** unwomanly. The fun of being with you is that you are not afraid to sing at the top of your lungs! My youngest's fondest memory of you is at Mamma Mia! the sing along version - singing your heart out, encouraging the girls - mine and yours - to sing, too. If your husband isn't comfortable, it's his issue, and you are not responsible for his issue. I say this as lovingly as possible. I sing in the garden - loud enough for the neighbor's to hear. I serenade the world.
I have never been with dolphins. I would love to be in their presence, and maybe even interact. But I would not like to visit dolphins in captivity. I do not want to approve of the way we treat animals ( and women, and children...)
The rain has begun and there is thunder in the distance. I love storms. But I think I will finish and close this down so I don't risk losing my computer.
Have another wonderful day. I love you!!
Clare
wild-life
Clare,
I spent most of yesterday in a quiet contemplation.
I walked, silently...
watched my kids surf, silently...
sat on the beach, silently...
I thought about the shame that isolates us...
I felt shame when my oldest reprimanded me for being an inadequate mother...
I isolated myself.
But after all of that silence, I chose to interact.
We ate dinner together,
We karyoked together and one of the friends who is along came out in a "morphsuit" and danced...
it was "pee your pants funny".
This morning I explained my confusion to my husband...
he tells me repeatedly that he wants me to smile and laugh more...
but obviously not too much that I appear out of control or drunk...
I'm not even drinking and he is uncomfortable!
I told him that sometimes it's not about him...
most of the time the silence is about me...processing my own issues and reactions.
I feel as if my world is a conglomerate of mixed messages.
Anyway...yesterday was a day of wildlife...
We saw a deer in one of the yards on our walk in the morning...
later in the morning the boys and their friends were surfing and a pod of dolphins swam near them...they passed within 10 yards of them and then cavorted a little further out...
In the evening we passed by two small red fox on the road...
Each time the animals were not frightened and as curious as we were.
What a gift.
I want to spend some time today considering this birth...
A very fertile idea.
I am off to see what today holds...
I hope that you have a wonderful day,
I love you,
Maggie
I spent most of yesterday in a quiet contemplation.
I walked, silently...
watched my kids surf, silently...
sat on the beach, silently...
I thought about the shame that isolates us...
I felt shame when my oldest reprimanded me for being an inadequate mother...
I isolated myself.
But after all of that silence, I chose to interact.
We ate dinner together,
We karyoked together and one of the friends who is along came out in a "morphsuit" and danced...
it was "pee your pants funny".
This morning I explained my confusion to my husband...
he tells me repeatedly that he wants me to smile and laugh more...
but obviously not too much that I appear out of control or drunk...
I'm not even drinking and he is uncomfortable!
I told him that sometimes it's not about him...
most of the time the silence is about me...processing my own issues and reactions.
I feel as if my world is a conglomerate of mixed messages.
Anyway...yesterday was a day of wildlife...
We saw a deer in one of the yards on our walk in the morning...
later in the morning the boys and their friends were surfing and a pod of dolphins swam near them...they passed within 10 yards of them and then cavorted a little further out...
In the evening we passed by two small red fox on the road...
Each time the animals were not frightened and as curious as we were.
What a gift.
I want to spend some time today considering this birth...
A very fertile idea.
I am off to see what today holds...
I hope that you have a wonderful day,
I love you,
Maggie
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Joyful, Joyful Family Trip!!
Ah parenthood. Actually, ah human relationships! All relationships function as a sine curve. They improve, they crest, we feel like we have wonderful connections, they descend and hit bottom and we despair of ever getting it right. Then the upswing starts over. Review our attitude toward the way Mom and Dad treated our youngest sibling. She was the only one who had any financial support, or rides home. We resent it, because they didn't care about us. I always thought that when I left they celebrated. The brats were finally getting out of our lives. You were just part of the annual procession of getting rid of the burdens. But that last baby...that last one is suddenly special. And our last sibling was special enough, smart enough to go to college, as opposed to me who just wasted an education, don't you know.
I get the same thing from my older kids. The youngest is coddled and babied. She doesn't have nearly as much responsibility as they did. What they don't see is that their criticism keeps her from moving forward. She is afraid to try because she knows they find fault with everything she does. But they're also correct. She got away with more because she was so young when her Dad left the family. Because the older ones were so hypercapable and willing to step in that she didn't have to, and we kind of didn't notice how good she was getting at shirking.
I think they can't comprehend what it takes to climb out of our swamp. That's why I'm here with you/for you. Swamps seem to be a bit generational. They are trying to climb out of their own swamp. Theirs was caused by your depression and unconscious reactions to what you suffered, and as I consider this, suddenly climbing out seems like a birth to me. My kids are mired in my yelling, my anger at their father, their father's total withdrawal as well as - like you - my reactions to those same things that happened in our childhood home. Mostly my kids seem to be numbing, but they are also talking about it, recognizing they are in a swamp I just hope they realize their youngest sibling is in the same swamp, splashing, trying to keep from going under, in an adjacent area, all alone.
This is the first time I considered that getting out of the swamp is like birthing. We had to have the strength to unfurl, to work with the contractions putting pressure on our whole beings - until all we knew was pressure. Then the head emerges. The compression lessens. We push and are pushed until we are sprawling in the air, blinded by the lights. I wonder how far I am in this birthing process...
Just to give you something to look forward to: my oldest once told me she hated my over-protectiveness, especially when she was a teenager. But now, as an adult, she understands and she thanked me for watching her carefully. That doesn't come for years, but it does come!
There was a performer at the Folk Fest who performed for children. At the beginning of one set, he asked, "Hey parents, who knows the difference between a vacation and a family trip? I think we get family vacations when the kids are adult. Right now, you are on a family trip. You are there to make memories with your kids. You remembered our being packed in a van, the dog pooping in the car, singing together. Bad stuff happened too, but that is lost in the fog. We do have sweet and funny memories that bind us as siblings and as a family. You are giving the same to your kids. Think about how easy it is now as compared to when they were tiny and we had to deal with diapers and refused dinners and watching toddlers to make sure they didn't kill themselves. Now you get to stay up late, go to the ocean alone, walk on the beach, read and write. Your husband gets to escape into a book...A little less family trip, but, still you are on a family trip.
And, love, if you don't feel inadequate as a mother on an almost daily basis, you aren't doing it right! The hardest part of parenting is that we must think all the time. We have to repeatedly do the most mundane, boring tasks - over and over - there is always laundry. Someone is always hungry. There are always dishes in the sink. Yet everything we do and say affects our beloved children's view of the world, of parenting, of themselves. We have to think constantly because our actions and reactions are so important. That is why parenting is so hard, unless you decide not to think about it...then you really screw 'em up!
(Actually, the hardest part about parenting is that we are doing it alone. We are supposed to have each other for support and back up. But again, our community has been destroyed, so you are working alone...)
So share something joyful with me. I love to hear about the happy moments! The difficult moments are important, but not at the expense of the joy!
I get the same thing from my older kids. The youngest is coddled and babied. She doesn't have nearly as much responsibility as they did. What they don't see is that their criticism keeps her from moving forward. She is afraid to try because she knows they find fault with everything she does. But they're also correct. She got away with more because she was so young when her Dad left the family. Because the older ones were so hypercapable and willing to step in that she didn't have to, and we kind of didn't notice how good she was getting at shirking.
I think they can't comprehend what it takes to climb out of our swamp. That's why I'm here with you/for you. Swamps seem to be a bit generational. They are trying to climb out of their own swamp. Theirs was caused by your depression and unconscious reactions to what you suffered, and as I consider this, suddenly climbing out seems like a birth to me. My kids are mired in my yelling, my anger at their father, their father's total withdrawal as well as - like you - my reactions to those same things that happened in our childhood home. Mostly my kids seem to be numbing, but they are also talking about it, recognizing they are in a swamp I just hope they realize their youngest sibling is in the same swamp, splashing, trying to keep from going under, in an adjacent area, all alone.
This is the first time I considered that getting out of the swamp is like birthing. We had to have the strength to unfurl, to work with the contractions putting pressure on our whole beings - until all we knew was pressure. Then the head emerges. The compression lessens. We push and are pushed until we are sprawling in the air, blinded by the lights. I wonder how far I am in this birthing process...
Just to give you something to look forward to: my oldest once told me she hated my over-protectiveness, especially when she was a teenager. But now, as an adult, she understands and she thanked me for watching her carefully. That doesn't come for years, but it does come!
There was a performer at the Folk Fest who performed for children. At the beginning of one set, he asked, "Hey parents, who knows the difference between a vacation and a family trip? I think we get family vacations when the kids are adult. Right now, you are on a family trip. You are there to make memories with your kids. You remembered our being packed in a van, the dog pooping in the car, singing together. Bad stuff happened too, but that is lost in the fog. We do have sweet and funny memories that bind us as siblings and as a family. You are giving the same to your kids. Think about how easy it is now as compared to when they were tiny and we had to deal with diapers and refused dinners and watching toddlers to make sure they didn't kill themselves. Now you get to stay up late, go to the ocean alone, walk on the beach, read and write. Your husband gets to escape into a book...A little less family trip, but, still you are on a family trip.
And, love, if you don't feel inadequate as a mother on an almost daily basis, you aren't doing it right! The hardest part of parenting is that we must think all the time. We have to repeatedly do the most mundane, boring tasks - over and over - there is always laundry. Someone is always hungry. There are always dishes in the sink. Yet everything we do and say affects our beloved children's view of the world, of parenting, of themselves. We have to think constantly because our actions and reactions are so important. That is why parenting is so hard, unless you decide not to think about it...then you really screw 'em up!
(Actually, the hardest part about parenting is that we are doing it alone. We are supposed to have each other for support and back up. But again, our community has been destroyed, so you are working alone...)
So share something joyful with me. I love to hear about the happy moments! The difficult moments are important, but not at the expense of the joy!
Storm last night
Well, it's amazing what a difference a day can make. My daughters had a blow up last night that left me feeling challenged in the middle. I talked to both of them and then sent them to bed (yes they are adults, but sometimes they get sent to their rooms). The problem is that they left me feeling sad and inadequate as a mom. It seems that when I let down the guard, and begin to have fun someone has to pull the rug out from under me so that I end up frustrated and angry and full of self doubt.
The oldest accuses me of not being strict enough with the younger ones.
"When I was their age..." is what I am hearing from her.
Yes, I am a different parent now.
I wanted to say that I have been through alot of shit since you were 13.
I am trying to be less anally structured and appreciate the beauty and vitality of life, not always controlling it.
I am trying to trust them...to a certain extent....without being overly-permissive.
I am struggling with my own past abuse...putting that into context...realizing that my over-protectiveness with the girls was fear based thinking that someone would hurt them as I was hurt. I am trying to dig my way out of depression and CPTSD.
The hardest part is that they both know all of this. I've been open with both of them about all of this. Either they can't comprehend the amount of energy and fortitude it requires or they are refusing to acknowledge it. I can't blame them though...they have been raised to avoid issues and smile despite the pain and discomfort.
The oldest and I were talking earlier about mid-life crisis...mine is centered around healing the past wounds, making peace and living the rest of my life without that guilt. We were musing about what issues she and her siblings would be in crisis over when they hit their 40's-50's. She told me that I never allowed anything/anyone to hurt her in a serious way...
I often wonder why we bother going away on vacation. At home there is a balance, a routine. It works well. Once we travel and set up house somewhere else the power struggles begin, the routines have to be reestablished, people get frustrated. So why do we put ourselves through all of this? What is the benefit of family vacations? Most people take them...it's a cultural ritual...but why?
I was thinking about the fear of whatever was below the surface of the ocean too. It made me think of my "fear" drawing...Most of the things that I fear are those unidentified things that touch you, or grab you as they pass. I wonder if that's a universal fear or something that stems from my personal past. I will have to think about that as I float today.
There was a storm last night...lightening and rain...
the ocean is calmer this morning...
I hope that's an omen for the family's interactions today.
Maggie
The oldest accuses me of not being strict enough with the younger ones.
"When I was their age..." is what I am hearing from her.
Yes, I am a different parent now.
I wanted to say that I have been through alot of shit since you were 13.
I am trying to be less anally structured and appreciate the beauty and vitality of life, not always controlling it.
I am trying to trust them...to a certain extent....without being overly-permissive.
I am struggling with my own past abuse...putting that into context...realizing that my over-protectiveness with the girls was fear based thinking that someone would hurt them as I was hurt. I am trying to dig my way out of depression and CPTSD.
The hardest part is that they both know all of this. I've been open with both of them about all of this. Either they can't comprehend the amount of energy and fortitude it requires or they are refusing to acknowledge it. I can't blame them though...they have been raised to avoid issues and smile despite the pain and discomfort.
The oldest and I were talking earlier about mid-life crisis...mine is centered around healing the past wounds, making peace and living the rest of my life without that guilt. We were musing about what issues she and her siblings would be in crisis over when they hit their 40's-50's. She told me that I never allowed anything/anyone to hurt her in a serious way...
I often wonder why we bother going away on vacation. At home there is a balance, a routine. It works well. Once we travel and set up house somewhere else the power struggles begin, the routines have to be reestablished, people get frustrated. So why do we put ourselves through all of this? What is the benefit of family vacations? Most people take them...it's a cultural ritual...but why?
I was thinking about the fear of whatever was below the surface of the ocean too. It made me think of my "fear" drawing...Most of the things that I fear are those unidentified things that touch you, or grab you as they pass. I wonder if that's a universal fear or something that stems from my personal past. I will have to think about that as I float today.
There was a storm last night...lightening and rain...
the ocean is calmer this morning...
I hope that's an omen for the family's interactions today.
Maggie
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Scarlet R
Well, damn, I was on a roll, and writing a lot when my finger slipped and I lost my whole post. So, I'll start again...
It is wonderful to hear you being so light and happy. This vacation must have happened at exactly the right time.
I have also been reading about the PSU scandal, since I am an alumni. I may be the only student who graduated from there without ever having attended a football game. I hated the football culture of the school. I was surprised when I read that Joe Paterno had helped cover up Sandusky's sexual attacks. But then, I was not surprised at all when I read that Paterno protected the football program instead of young boys. I wonder what would have happened if someone would have screamed STOP! at the first allegation of sexual abuse. Instead they all formed a line like obedient little sheep and allowed one man to violate and destroy many young lives. In cases of sexual abuse, one can never be on the fence. One either says stop and speaks up for the voiceless, or one gives approval for the abuse to take place. If someone, anyone, would have had the guts to speak, the school may have suffered temporary embarrassment, but that would have turned around quickly. The one with courage would have become a hero, and the school would have been lauded for responsiveness.
In Al Anon I learned that I was born and bred to marry an alcoholic. Mrs. Sandusky must have been born and bred to marry and protect a pedophile. We only see what we want to see. And Sandusky - he had to have been attacked and brutalized as a child. That is the only way this could have happened. But he is to blame. Many abused people, when they realize they are hurting others, go for help rather that try to cover it up.
Al Anon is a secret place, where we protect each other's identities. Child abuse can't be the same. We need the "Me, too!" movement. We need to come out of the shadows and heal each other's broken souls and bloody wounds. We need to see how many other vibrant, strong, amazing people can say, "Me, too. It happened to me." We have to take the shame away from the survivor. We have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.
I have fantasized about workshops with both rapists and those who have been sexually assaulted. It would be like an Alternatives to Violence intensive. By the end, both would have a chance to be human before the others. God, we could start with our family. But, realistically, it would probably be better to start with those who have no connection. It would be a way for a rapist to prepare for facing what he has done, and to apologize for it.
There was another story about a 17 year old girl who was raped, and then the two rapists took pictures of her and shared them with their friends. Under some sort of plea bargain she was forbidden to name them. But she stood up and spoke truth to power. She named them on Twitter and then challenged them to arrest her. I started thinking about the novel, The Scarlet A - worn by women of course, to identify adulteresses. I think men should wear Scarlet R's. That way the women who know who to avoid. We would know which males only perceive us as a piece of meat "to be done."
Oh, and I thought it was interesting that you were afraid of what was lurking beneath the water's surface. Yet you braved those fears and allowed yourself to be embraced by the ocean, the most powerful ocean. What a powerful moment!!
It is wonderful to hear you being so light and happy. This vacation must have happened at exactly the right time.
I have also been reading about the PSU scandal, since I am an alumni. I may be the only student who graduated from there without ever having attended a football game. I hated the football culture of the school. I was surprised when I read that Joe Paterno had helped cover up Sandusky's sexual attacks. But then, I was not surprised at all when I read that Paterno protected the football program instead of young boys. I wonder what would have happened if someone would have screamed STOP! at the first allegation of sexual abuse. Instead they all formed a line like obedient little sheep and allowed one man to violate and destroy many young lives. In cases of sexual abuse, one can never be on the fence. One either says stop and speaks up for the voiceless, or one gives approval for the abuse to take place. If someone, anyone, would have had the guts to speak, the school may have suffered temporary embarrassment, but that would have turned around quickly. The one with courage would have become a hero, and the school would have been lauded for responsiveness.
In Al Anon I learned that I was born and bred to marry an alcoholic. Mrs. Sandusky must have been born and bred to marry and protect a pedophile. We only see what we want to see. And Sandusky - he had to have been attacked and brutalized as a child. That is the only way this could have happened. But he is to blame. Many abused people, when they realize they are hurting others, go for help rather that try to cover it up.
Al Anon is a secret place, where we protect each other's identities. Child abuse can't be the same. We need the "Me, too!" movement. We need to come out of the shadows and heal each other's broken souls and bloody wounds. We need to see how many other vibrant, strong, amazing people can say, "Me, too. It happened to me." We have to take the shame away from the survivor. We have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.
I have fantasized about workshops with both rapists and those who have been sexually assaulted. It would be like an Alternatives to Violence intensive. By the end, both would have a chance to be human before the others. God, we could start with our family. But, realistically, it would probably be better to start with those who have no connection. It would be a way for a rapist to prepare for facing what he has done, and to apologize for it.
There was another story about a 17 year old girl who was raped, and then the two rapists took pictures of her and shared them with their friends. Under some sort of plea bargain she was forbidden to name them. But she stood up and spoke truth to power. She named them on Twitter and then challenged them to arrest her. I started thinking about the novel, The Scarlet A - worn by women of course, to identify adulteresses. I think men should wear Scarlet R's. That way the women who know who to avoid. We would know which males only perceive us as a piece of meat "to be done."
Oh, and I thought it was interesting that you were afraid of what was lurking beneath the water's surface. Yet you braved those fears and allowed yourself to be embraced by the ocean, the most powerful ocean. What a powerful moment!!
we played last night
Good morning...
I had a wonderful day yesterday.
I spent time talking with Daughter #1 about the PSU abuse case and all of the sanctions. She is really upset by all of this. We talked about what the abuse and subsequent attention means to the survivors, those young men who were playthings to an adult man with sexual perversions. How it was possible for Mrs Sandusky to "not know" the abuse was happening in her own home.
I told her that my mother claims that she never knew that such things were going on in and around her home.
I suggested that people who allow such activities, ignore the obvious, enable the abuse, were probably abused earlier in their lives and they don't know what to do...don't trust their own judgement...can't find their voice in the midst of the fear and uncertainty that surrounds abusing others.
They were groomed to be enablers...just as kids are groomed to be victims.
The cycle is vicious and perpetual...until someone finds their voice and gathers their courage and says "NO MORE". Those survivors did just that.
While I can't imagine them wanting continued attention from the media, it is helpful to hear the apologies, and the pledges that this sort of thing won't happen again.
But what's not being said is that it is happening everyday...to boys and girls in their own homes, everyday...and only a very small percentage is ever discovered. It's a F-ing epidemic and only the sensational cases like the PSU case gets attention.
I went into the ocean yesterday. I don't like going into the ocean because there may be jellyfish or crabs, or any number of things in there that I can't see. Things that I can't protect myself from. But yesterday I ventured in, tentatively at first to my knees, then I stepped into deeper area and was submerged. I am a strong swimmer so that didn't bother me, so while I was there I decided to see what it felt like to be surrounded by all of that energy and life. It was fabulous. I floated and let myself be carried by the water and the waves. I closed my eyes and just absorbed the rhythm of the ocean. I loved it. I am going back in today. I will see what I learn from the ocean today.
We played last night...and we laughed...Monopoly and Rummy.
It was really fun, but because I had 2 glasses of wine they all assumed that I was drunk and therefore laughing.
I didn't feel drunk...just happy and light hearted.
I need to shed the heavy heart and look at the beauty that is around me.
We played last night. My kids and I played games and laughed together. Husband was off reading while we played. His loss...or gain depending upon what he needs to get out of this week.
I am off to watch me kids surf...then I will learn more from this island.
Blessings,
Maggie
I had a wonderful day yesterday.
I spent time talking with Daughter #1 about the PSU abuse case and all of the sanctions. She is really upset by all of this. We talked about what the abuse and subsequent attention means to the survivors, those young men who were playthings to an adult man with sexual perversions. How it was possible for Mrs Sandusky to "not know" the abuse was happening in her own home.
I told her that my mother claims that she never knew that such things were going on in and around her home.
I suggested that people who allow such activities, ignore the obvious, enable the abuse, were probably abused earlier in their lives and they don't know what to do...don't trust their own judgement...can't find their voice in the midst of the fear and uncertainty that surrounds abusing others.
They were groomed to be enablers...just as kids are groomed to be victims.
The cycle is vicious and perpetual...until someone finds their voice and gathers their courage and says "NO MORE". Those survivors did just that.
While I can't imagine them wanting continued attention from the media, it is helpful to hear the apologies, and the pledges that this sort of thing won't happen again.
But what's not being said is that it is happening everyday...to boys and girls in their own homes, everyday...and only a very small percentage is ever discovered. It's a F-ing epidemic and only the sensational cases like the PSU case gets attention.
I went into the ocean yesterday. I don't like going into the ocean because there may be jellyfish or crabs, or any number of things in there that I can't see. Things that I can't protect myself from. But yesterday I ventured in, tentatively at first to my knees, then I stepped into deeper area and was submerged. I am a strong swimmer so that didn't bother me, so while I was there I decided to see what it felt like to be surrounded by all of that energy and life. It was fabulous. I floated and let myself be carried by the water and the waves. I closed my eyes and just absorbed the rhythm of the ocean. I loved it. I am going back in today. I will see what I learn from the ocean today.
We played last night...and we laughed...Monopoly and Rummy.
It was really fun, but because I had 2 glasses of wine they all assumed that I was drunk and therefore laughing.
I didn't feel drunk...just happy and light hearted.
I need to shed the heavy heart and look at the beauty that is around me.
We played last night. My kids and I played games and laughed together. Husband was off reading while we played. His loss...or gain depending upon what he needs to get out of this week.
I am off to watch me kids surf...then I will learn more from this island.
Blessings,
Maggie
Monday, July 23, 2012
Ocean vs. Swamp
I was never graceful. I was the kid hiding from the camera. I'm not much different now! It's a difficult paradox. Don't notice me, but PLEASE pay attention to me.
Honey, I knew you were going to go to med school, and going to make it through med school from the time you made the announcement when you were 7 years old. You always had the strength of will to find a way to do what you needed to do. Impressive for a middle kid, and impressive for a girl. You found ways to get voice lessons, when I gave up when Mom said no. The most ingrained message of our childhood, "We can't afford..." and I'm still believing it. There's one more message I have to purge or redefine. I passed the message on to my children. My oldest son came into my room quietly one night and apologized because he needed new shoes. His dad made enough money, but he spent on himself first - and I thought that was okay...I've always waited to be important, I guess. Once it affected kids, it stopped being okay, though.
I liked your self analysis. If I do the same, what I note is the nonconformist. I have the basic belief that if everyone is doing it, it must be wrong, therefore I will not do it. I perversely refused to follow the norms. And I am still like that, and I like it! I dressed weird because I made all of my own clothes. I took different classes than anyone else. I went out with friends once and everyone ordered a cheeseburger - except me. I remember vividly because someone asked if I always had to be different. Yes! I stopped eating meat when I was a teenager. Homebirthing, homeschooling, extended breastfeeding, living in a handbuilt cabin with no electricity for ten years. I participated in environmental activism. I will confess that part of the reason I have done it in the past was to irritate Dad, to get in his face, to bug him...to get his attention, to remind him that I am here. I think he stood for the institution to me - he was the ultimate be silent and blend, don't speak up about anything guy. Not anymore - I gave up on that, or it simply lost importance somehow along the way. Now I do it because the world is heading in the wrong direction, and I am not going willingly with the rest of the lemmings. I am willing to take responsibility for myself, and not turn myself or my children over to the institution...which is why I would never have made a good doctor. But I would have made a great midwife.
Sometimes I think of myself as the If-Only Kid. One of your friends once said I would be pretty, if only I didn't wear strange glasses and such strange clothes. My mother-in-law always said I would be pretty if only I wore make up and dressed more like my sister-in-law. Mom stated it differently. She always said I was the most unaffected person she knew.
When I graduated from high school I had no idea what I wanted to study. So I decided I wanted to take a year off before going to college. We had a family reunion that summer...all of Mom's side except Aunt T's family were there. The first two grandchildren had just graduated. Everyone asked what I was going to do. I said I wanted a year to work and to think about it. They all got in my face, especially Mom, Grammy and Uncle G. They said I was too smart to waste myself. They kept at me for the day until I agreed to go to school, as an engineering major - because that was what G taught, and there weren't enough women in the program. Some great conformist! I caved under their attention, probably dying inside for their approval. Engineering was not on my list of dreams. Ever. And so I changed my major a lot and ended up with a degree that encompassed my various majors. Around the time I finished school, I discovered a book, The Immaculate Deception, which inspired me. I knew for the first time what I wanted to be...a midwife. But instead of being one, I needed one! And I became a lactation counselor instead. I can't regret my life. There are people who are part of me that I met at school, and I would never let that go. But I do wish I would have been allowed to trust myself.
After seeing your interaction with the ocean, I am glad we are dealing with the swamp! Can you imagine an ocean of pain? Trying to find ourselves or each other in the ocean? The swamp may be stagnant, but it is fed, and it is small enough to find things in! When I am at the ocean, I always have a moment, where I gaze across the water and realize I am looking at Europe. Or Asia...depending...At the same time the world seems immense and not so big!
Treasure these moments of being held in the Light. That is where your strength will come from when sent back out into the world!
Have fun!!!!! Hugs and kisses!!!
Clare
Honey, I knew you were going to go to med school, and going to make it through med school from the time you made the announcement when you were 7 years old. You always had the strength of will to find a way to do what you needed to do. Impressive for a middle kid, and impressive for a girl. You found ways to get voice lessons, when I gave up when Mom said no. The most ingrained message of our childhood, "We can't afford..." and I'm still believing it. There's one more message I have to purge or redefine. I passed the message on to my children. My oldest son came into my room quietly one night and apologized because he needed new shoes. His dad made enough money, but he spent on himself first - and I thought that was okay...I've always waited to be important, I guess. Once it affected kids, it stopped being okay, though.
I liked your self analysis. If I do the same, what I note is the nonconformist. I have the basic belief that if everyone is doing it, it must be wrong, therefore I will not do it. I perversely refused to follow the norms. And I am still like that, and I like it! I dressed weird because I made all of my own clothes. I took different classes than anyone else. I went out with friends once and everyone ordered a cheeseburger - except me. I remember vividly because someone asked if I always had to be different. Yes! I stopped eating meat when I was a teenager. Homebirthing, homeschooling, extended breastfeeding, living in a handbuilt cabin with no electricity for ten years. I participated in environmental activism. I will confess that part of the reason I have done it in the past was to irritate Dad, to get in his face, to bug him...to get his attention, to remind him that I am here. I think he stood for the institution to me - he was the ultimate be silent and blend, don't speak up about anything guy. Not anymore - I gave up on that, or it simply lost importance somehow along the way. Now I do it because the world is heading in the wrong direction, and I am not going willingly with the rest of the lemmings. I am willing to take responsibility for myself, and not turn myself or my children over to the institution...which is why I would never have made a good doctor. But I would have made a great midwife.
Sometimes I think of myself as the If-Only Kid. One of your friends once said I would be pretty, if only I didn't wear strange glasses and such strange clothes. My mother-in-law always said I would be pretty if only I wore make up and dressed more like my sister-in-law. Mom stated it differently. She always said I was the most unaffected person she knew.
When I graduated from high school I had no idea what I wanted to study. So I decided I wanted to take a year off before going to college. We had a family reunion that summer...all of Mom's side except Aunt T's family were there. The first two grandchildren had just graduated. Everyone asked what I was going to do. I said I wanted a year to work and to think about it. They all got in my face, especially Mom, Grammy and Uncle G. They said I was too smart to waste myself. They kept at me for the day until I agreed to go to school, as an engineering major - because that was what G taught, and there weren't enough women in the program. Some great conformist! I caved under their attention, probably dying inside for their approval. Engineering was not on my list of dreams. Ever. And so I changed my major a lot and ended up with a degree that encompassed my various majors. Around the time I finished school, I discovered a book, The Immaculate Deception, which inspired me. I knew for the first time what I wanted to be...a midwife. But instead of being one, I needed one! And I became a lactation counselor instead. I can't regret my life. There are people who are part of me that I met at school, and I would never let that go. But I do wish I would have been allowed to trust myself.
After seeing your interaction with the ocean, I am glad we are dealing with the swamp! Can you imagine an ocean of pain? Trying to find ourselves or each other in the ocean? The swamp may be stagnant, but it is fed, and it is small enough to find things in! When I am at the ocean, I always have a moment, where I gaze across the water and realize I am looking at Europe. Or Asia...depending...At the same time the world seems immense and not so big!
Treasure these moments of being held in the Light. That is where your strength will come from when sent back out into the world!
Have fun!!!!! Hugs and kisses!!!
Clare
Illusion was the message
We were graceful!!!! I still laugh when I think of those movies.
My kids have had to watch it a few times and they moan and groan, but laugh while it is on.
What part of our childhood self remains???
I think, for me, the part that most remains is the part that was a "smart-allick".
I used to think the most impertinent, but funny retorts to some of the nonsense that was said and done in the house, and occasionally it would slip out.
It was the part of me that refused to buy into the family norms.
It was the part of me that woke up and said,"stop abusing me".
It was the part of me that felt that there really was something good deep down inside of me, despite the negative messages we were fed at home.
It was the part of me that participated in sports, plays and music despite the lack of support from home.
It was the part of me that boldly asked for financial assistance from my college and Med school despite our father's reluctance and resistance to asking for help from anyone.
It was the part of me that knew that I was smart enough to get through Med school, despite outside opinions.
It is the part of me that trusts my own Heart's Voice...
that small, quiet voice inside that directs when I allow it to...
It has never steered me wrong.
I remember B#1 once saying that he thought he would have been a good adolescent medicine physician...if he only believed that he could do it. He said something like, "if you made it through any of us could have"...and he was right...it was more about perseverance than brains...
I'm not saying that I'm not intelligent...we all have equal intelligence...
I was just the most determined...to escape through education.
I was driven to medicine to acquire Power, Prestige, and Prominence...
I wanted people to notice me...for what I was...not who I was mind you...
but I was going to be Dr. Maggie.
I came to realize that the 3 P's weren't as utopic as I imagined they would be...
so I walked away...
and became just me...
my kid's mom...
the arts and crafts lady at the parochial school...
the gifted advocate...
the soloist/music director at church...
the lady who adopts any horse/dog/cat that needs her...
and the list goes on and on.
And now that I have surrendered success for significance
I find that I am still drawn to helping people...
but in a different way.
Now I want people to know me...
and see the real me...
and choose to like or dislike me being as authentic as I can be.
What did the ocean say to me?
Illusion...illusion...
I've used that word to describe our family of origin...
I was contemplating illusion as I watched the waves and the clouds in constant motion.
It is ever changing...un-capture-able energy, power and beauty.
Our lives are similarly illusions...
there is only present moment...
followed by present moment...
constantly in flux...
seemingly very real and tangible...
but it can't be touched or held onto...
it just passes like the clouds and the waves...
At best, it is experienced and appreciated in that moment.
So what does that say about the past?
It has certainly affected the present, just as previous pollution affects the oceans and air...
but can it truly control the present?
Only if we allow it to be our focus.
If we direct our attention to that...then we miss the beauty of the moment.
Compared to the ocean, the swamp is seemingly stagnant...
but it has to be fed from somewhere...
there has to be a source...
where clean water supplies it...
as we wade through this swamp, that's what I am searching for...
the source...the nidus...the birthplace.
The swamp is an ecosystem unto itself...and a fertile one at that.
It is going to feed us...and allow us to grow along the process.
You used the word 'inspire' yesterday or the day before...
I feel as if I am in a Divine Inspiration...
being pulled close to the center...being nourished and warmed and embraced...resting.
But I realize that the expiration follows an inspiration and I will inevitably be sent back out, away from the center...to share some of that loving energy with others...until I am depleted.
The cycle is continuous and complete...it is loving and beautiful...and natural.
I am heading back to the beach...
I hope that you have a glorious day.
Blessings until tomorrow,
Maggie
My kids have had to watch it a few times and they moan and groan, but laugh while it is on.
What part of our childhood self remains???
I think, for me, the part that most remains is the part that was a "smart-allick".
I used to think the most impertinent, but funny retorts to some of the nonsense that was said and done in the house, and occasionally it would slip out.
It was the part of me that refused to buy into the family norms.
It was the part of me that woke up and said,"stop abusing me".
It was the part of me that felt that there really was something good deep down inside of me, despite the negative messages we were fed at home.
It was the part of me that participated in sports, plays and music despite the lack of support from home.
It was the part of me that boldly asked for financial assistance from my college and Med school despite our father's reluctance and resistance to asking for help from anyone.
It was the part of me that knew that I was smart enough to get through Med school, despite outside opinions.
It is the part of me that trusts my own Heart's Voice...
that small, quiet voice inside that directs when I allow it to...
It has never steered me wrong.
I remember B#1 once saying that he thought he would have been a good adolescent medicine physician...if he only believed that he could do it. He said something like, "if you made it through any of us could have"...and he was right...it was more about perseverance than brains...
I'm not saying that I'm not intelligent...we all have equal intelligence...
I was just the most determined...to escape through education.
I was driven to medicine to acquire Power, Prestige, and Prominence...
I wanted people to notice me...for what I was...not who I was mind you...
but I was going to be Dr. Maggie.
I came to realize that the 3 P's weren't as utopic as I imagined they would be...
so I walked away...
and became just me...
my kid's mom...
the arts and crafts lady at the parochial school...
the gifted advocate...
the soloist/music director at church...
the lady who adopts any horse/dog/cat that needs her...
and the list goes on and on.
And now that I have surrendered success for significance
I find that I am still drawn to helping people...
but in a different way.
Now I want people to know me...
and see the real me...
and choose to like or dislike me being as authentic as I can be.
What did the ocean say to me?
Illusion...illusion...
I've used that word to describe our family of origin...
I was contemplating illusion as I watched the waves and the clouds in constant motion.
It is ever changing...un-capture-able energy, power and beauty.
Our lives are similarly illusions...
there is only present moment...
followed by present moment...
constantly in flux...
seemingly very real and tangible...
but it can't be touched or held onto...
it just passes like the clouds and the waves...
At best, it is experienced and appreciated in that moment.
So what does that say about the past?
It has certainly affected the present, just as previous pollution affects the oceans and air...
but can it truly control the present?
Only if we allow it to be our focus.
If we direct our attention to that...then we miss the beauty of the moment.
Compared to the ocean, the swamp is seemingly stagnant...
but it has to be fed from somewhere...
there has to be a source...
where clean water supplies it...
as we wade through this swamp, that's what I am searching for...
the source...the nidus...the birthplace.
The swamp is an ecosystem unto itself...and a fertile one at that.
It is going to feed us...and allow us to grow along the process.
You used the word 'inspire' yesterday or the day before...
I feel as if I am in a Divine Inspiration...
being pulled close to the center...being nourished and warmed and embraced...resting.
But I realize that the expiration follows an inspiration and I will inevitably be sent back out, away from the center...to share some of that loving energy with others...until I am depleted.
The cycle is continuous and complete...it is loving and beautiful...and natural.
I am heading back to the beach...
I hope that you have a glorious day.
Blessings until tomorrow,
Maggie
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Think Big Bird
Yeah, uh...the feathered turtle was yellow, like Big Bird. Probably means something. And, mourning dove update...the day after I set it free, I found a feather just outside the gate. I took that as a thank you. Now there is a pair living in my garden - for the first time since I lived here.
Remember when Mom brought the movie camera? You "little girls" were swimming in the creek next to the camping site, and Mom told you to "Be graceful!" and you all assumed you were little ballerinas doing Swan Lake - Swan Creek, maybe. It was very cute. I also remember climbing rocks - that area has such impressive rocks - probably pushed there by the glaciers. I remember fishing for brook trout with Dad. That may have been one of the only things we did together. And remember - each pair had a pup tent. So Mom and Dad had a large tent which was surrounded by our little green tents. And there was a choice - We could put up the tent and two of us could sleep there, or we could each take our half and make a hammock. I never shared a tent with a sib - I did get the dog, though (which was probably my preference!) so I never had to compromise.
The wedding pictures are beautiful, of course. We are a handsome family. The picture that caught me was on B#3 sitting with his grandson on his lap. I could almost, but not quite, see the little boy. I wonder how much of our childhood self is still in us, and how much we have shed - or hidden. Some parts of me are ageless. Some parts of me are gone, or buried, or just under the water level of the swamp!
I haven't walked yet today. I have been cleaning house. I know I need to be outside. It is important for my psyche, but I put off taking care of myself. This is definitely an ongoing problem. I don't know how to prioritize. I will always take care of others before I take care of me...still waiting to be acknowledged as a good girl, maybe. Still waiting to me noticed.
What did the ocean have to say?
Remember when Mom brought the movie camera? You "little girls" were swimming in the creek next to the camping site, and Mom told you to "Be graceful!" and you all assumed you were little ballerinas doing Swan Lake - Swan Creek, maybe. It was very cute. I also remember climbing rocks - that area has such impressive rocks - probably pushed there by the glaciers. I remember fishing for brook trout with Dad. That may have been one of the only things we did together. And remember - each pair had a pup tent. So Mom and Dad had a large tent which was surrounded by our little green tents. And there was a choice - We could put up the tent and two of us could sleep there, or we could each take our half and make a hammock. I never shared a tent with a sib - I did get the dog, though (which was probably my preference!) so I never had to compromise.
The wedding pictures are beautiful, of course. We are a handsome family. The picture that caught me was on B#3 sitting with his grandson on his lap. I could almost, but not quite, see the little boy. I wonder how much of our childhood self is still in us, and how much we have shed - or hidden. Some parts of me are ageless. Some parts of me are gone, or buried, or just under the water level of the swamp!
I haven't walked yet today. I have been cleaning house. I know I need to be outside. It is important for my psyche, but I put off taking care of myself. This is definitely an ongoing problem. I don't know how to prioritize. I will always take care of others before I take care of me...still waiting to be acknowledged as a good girl, maybe. Still waiting to me noticed.
What did the ocean have to say?
Some good memories
So, For some reason I am wondering about your feathered turtle...were the feathers black like a turkey vulture's or colorful like the mute parrot?
We spent 12 hours together in the car yesterday. It was actually alot of fun. Despite being significantly delayed on 95 South, everyone stayed in good spirits and we played some games. Of course there are moments of bickering and posturing between the siblings, but I was able to remain peaceful and calm. We were running behind schedule, seriously pushing our ferry reservation time and still, we played the games.
It was more of a Grammy day than a Grandma day.
I am trying to remember our trips up north for camping. I remember having one bathroom break. I remember our little Chihuahua pooping onto B#1's lap on one trip. I remember that VW van packed so full that our legs were straight out instead of hanging down. How did we ever have room to take along a friend or two? We would stop at Grandma and Pop's house before going into the woods. We had family members come out to visit us during the week. It rained frequently. I remember digging the pit for a latrine and also one for ice to keep the food. I remember swimming/bathing in the creek /river that we camped beside. I remember the camp fires and singing...The House of the Rising Sun, I'm my Own Grampa, Sweet Violets... There is alot of good in those memories.
The prayer to be open to abundance is a wonderful prayer. I live a very different lifestyle than you do, my prayer is to recognize and be content with enough. I try to intentionally use that word around my children as well. They have rarely done without...and will come to appreciate that at some time in their life.
I am thinking about Faduly...and letting my mind wander...
I just had an image of the Disney version of Cinderella where she makes friends with and clothes the mice...
I am picturing Faduly as those mice. It makes me smile to imagine that.
I spent an hour walking this morning, and then an hour on the beach. I was just sitting, meditating, listening to the waves and the birds. The sound was so loud and constant. It was very relaxing and reinvigorating. I hope that there is alot more of that this week.
I haven't seen the wedding pictures yet. I will have to go on and look at them.
The natives are restless...I have to go to the beach.
Until tomorrow...
Maggie
We spent 12 hours together in the car yesterday. It was actually alot of fun. Despite being significantly delayed on 95 South, everyone stayed in good spirits and we played some games. Of course there are moments of bickering and posturing between the siblings, but I was able to remain peaceful and calm. We were running behind schedule, seriously pushing our ferry reservation time and still, we played the games.
It was more of a Grammy day than a Grandma day.
I am trying to remember our trips up north for camping. I remember having one bathroom break. I remember our little Chihuahua pooping onto B#1's lap on one trip. I remember that VW van packed so full that our legs were straight out instead of hanging down. How did we ever have room to take along a friend or two? We would stop at Grandma and Pop's house before going into the woods. We had family members come out to visit us during the week. It rained frequently. I remember digging the pit for a latrine and also one for ice to keep the food. I remember swimming/bathing in the creek /river that we camped beside. I remember the camp fires and singing...The House of the Rising Sun, I'm my Own Grampa, Sweet Violets... There is alot of good in those memories.
The prayer to be open to abundance is a wonderful prayer. I live a very different lifestyle than you do, my prayer is to recognize and be content with enough. I try to intentionally use that word around my children as well. They have rarely done without...and will come to appreciate that at some time in their life.
I am thinking about Faduly...and letting my mind wander...
I just had an image of the Disney version of Cinderella where she makes friends with and clothes the mice...
I am picturing Faduly as those mice. It makes me smile to imagine that.
I spent an hour walking this morning, and then an hour on the beach. I was just sitting, meditating, listening to the waves and the birds. The sound was so loud and constant. It was very relaxing and reinvigorating. I hope that there is alot more of that this week.
I haven't seen the wedding pictures yet. I will have to go on and look at them.
The natives are restless...I have to go to the beach.
Until tomorrow...
Maggie
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Sentience?
It's a gorgeous sunny day, and I just stepped outside to check on the dog and bring her back in the house and to get the mail. As I started to walk up the driveway, a shadow passed over me. I looked up and it was a turkey vulture flying over me, of course. Then another came, seemingly from nowhere and swooped close to the first one I noticed. The two started swooping together, and then there was another and another. By that time I was at the road, so I went across the street and sat down in the grass, facing the vultures. One by one they disappeared. But they left me with a thought. The words golden purifier went through my mind, and I suddenly wondered if they could purify the black parts inside of me. That was the Aha! moment. The swamp is not only something I am working my way through, it is also inside of me...it's part of me. That might be why I can't tell where the water and air meet in the photo. I can't tell what's in me, I can't tell what's not me - or not in me.
Fat-dumb-and-ugly got planted in me, but they are not mine. I never would have put those words in myself or anyone else. But they became part of my self-definition. (Don't worry, though - Faduly is still learning to cavort and no longer trapped and trying to use debasement as an escape mechanism...or to gain love and acceptance from the one who birthed the words.) I couldn't tell what was me and what was not...The swamp is within...
Next I wondered if this was mysticism...discerning the messages of the turkey vulture. But I thought, "No, that's just acknowledging the sentience and connection of all."
A few of the wedding pictures have gone up on Facebook...virtually the next best thing to being there!
Fat-dumb-and-ugly got planted in me, but they are not mine. I never would have put those words in myself or anyone else. But they became part of my self-definition. (Don't worry, though - Faduly is still learning to cavort and no longer trapped and trying to use debasement as an escape mechanism...or to gain love and acceptance from the one who birthed the words.) I couldn't tell what was me and what was not...The swamp is within...
Next I wondered if this was mysticism...discerning the messages of the turkey vulture. But I thought, "No, that's just acknowledging the sentience and connection of all."
A few of the wedding pictures have gone up on Facebook...virtually the next best thing to being there!
Friday, July 20, 2012
Inhale
S#4 and her brood are missing the wedding. So six sibs will be together, and all the boys will be present. I complain about the poverty of my life, but sometimes it is a bit of a blessing. I have an excuse to miss anything and everything. Mostly I don't feel anything. I feel so outside of what is happening, that I don't really think I am missing anything nor that I am especially missed. Sometimes I wonder if something spiritual inside of me orchestrates it so I don't have to do things I really don't want to do. Or allows me to feel a bit martyrish when I miss other things...the increasingly obvious problem being that it stops me from doing the things I want to do, and even things I need to do. The other problem is that this has become so much who I am that I don't know how to be different. I don't exactly pray, but I had a "prayer" earlier this week...please readjust whatever is inside me that blocks abundance. We'll see what happens.
This weekend's festival is local to where I live now. It is much smaller, and more human than the one you went to with us. We don't get herded at this fest. I love the fest. I didn't go last year because my husky was so sick. My last dog, the ancient little spaniel who lives with me now, is not doing great this year, but she doesn't know that - he definitely did and so my presence was important to him. She mostly sleeps. Without a car, I go when one of the kids goes, so I never know how much of the festival I will get to experience. I have learned to trust life.
I honor patient people who know that creating a drama won't solve anything, nor will it improve the situation. I don't know how to tell the difference between patient serenity, and stepping out of life while pretending to participate! People comment on my serenity and patience...not sure if it's a strength, though. But after life with Dad, making problems anytime he had to wait, my patience is a good thing!
So Maggie is slowly wading through the swamp, and about to stub her toe on something big. Just keep your balance and you will be fine!
Home after a few hours of festival. I talked to a lot of people. Then it started to pour, so we brought my grandson back to my house for the night. Now we're warm and cozy and tired.
I also have the feeling that I'm on the verge of something. I don't think it's a memory, though. I feel like something life changing is about to happen. I feel like I'm in the middle of a slow motion inhale...
This weekend's festival is local to where I live now. It is much smaller, and more human than the one you went to with us. We don't get herded at this fest. I love the fest. I didn't go last year because my husky was so sick. My last dog, the ancient little spaniel who lives with me now, is not doing great this year, but she doesn't know that - he definitely did and so my presence was important to him. She mostly sleeps. Without a car, I go when one of the kids goes, so I never know how much of the festival I will get to experience. I have learned to trust life.
I honor patient people who know that creating a drama won't solve anything, nor will it improve the situation. I don't know how to tell the difference between patient serenity, and stepping out of life while pretending to participate! People comment on my serenity and patience...not sure if it's a strength, though. But after life with Dad, making problems anytime he had to wait, my patience is a good thing!
So Maggie is slowly wading through the swamp, and about to stub her toe on something big. Just keep your balance and you will be fine!
Home after a few hours of festival. I talked to a lot of people. Then it started to pour, so we brought my grandson back to my house for the night. Now we're warm and cozy and tired.
I also have the feeling that I'm on the verge of something. I don't think it's a memory, though. I feel like something life changing is about to happen. I feel like I'm in the middle of a slow motion inhale...
Preparations...and more preparations
So who else isn't going to the family event?
It's funny, I thought I would regret not going, feel guilty about missing it. I am very OK with not going.
I spent the day at Johns Hopkins Hosp. yesterday. A woman I know from Meeting needed to have pre-surgical testing and her husband just had surgery a few weeks ago. I was reluctant to go because I don't know her very well. Her husband and I have talked alot, he is a wonderful pianist, so I happily helped him. I had such a wonderful day. She was so easy to talk with. We shared stories about our lives and experiences. She also had an incredible patience about her. The original plan was a physical exam, CT scan and blood work and then back home. That changed fairly early in the process, they decided to admit her. She never showed any distress or frustration despite having her plans and expectations changed. We finally got to admissions about 4 and were told that the bed she had been assigned was still being used. The patient had been discharged, but not yet picked up, but it wouldn't be too long. Well at 9 pm the patient was not yet picked up and she was still calm and positive. I left her because I had a 3 hour drive ahead, and she was content to just wait for her room. Her patience left a big impression on me.
The lack of clarity between the water and air in that swamp picture fascinates me. How do we tell the difference? The only way to know is to experience it...we can't look from afar or it is just an illusion. Maybe that's how life is...we can't understand anyone else's experiences or our own unless we are willing to walk into it. I feel as if I am on the verge of more memory...it's a strange calm and settling. I am not sure why I feel this way, but there is a sense.
I remember going to the folk festival with you...your yearly activity. I hope that you can enjoy some of the activities and music this weekend.
I am gathering today...planning, packing, checking...making sure that we have everything we need for next week. I believe that we are going to have a good time. I will take my laptop along so that I can keep in touch.
Enjoy your day,
Maggie
It's funny, I thought I would regret not going, feel guilty about missing it. I am very OK with not going.
I spent the day at Johns Hopkins Hosp. yesterday. A woman I know from Meeting needed to have pre-surgical testing and her husband just had surgery a few weeks ago. I was reluctant to go because I don't know her very well. Her husband and I have talked alot, he is a wonderful pianist, so I happily helped him. I had such a wonderful day. She was so easy to talk with. We shared stories about our lives and experiences. She also had an incredible patience about her. The original plan was a physical exam, CT scan and blood work and then back home. That changed fairly early in the process, they decided to admit her. She never showed any distress or frustration despite having her plans and expectations changed. We finally got to admissions about 4 and were told that the bed she had been assigned was still being used. The patient had been discharged, but not yet picked up, but it wouldn't be too long. Well at 9 pm the patient was not yet picked up and she was still calm and positive. I left her because I had a 3 hour drive ahead, and she was content to just wait for her room. Her patience left a big impression on me.
The lack of clarity between the water and air in that swamp picture fascinates me. How do we tell the difference? The only way to know is to experience it...we can't look from afar or it is just an illusion. Maybe that's how life is...we can't understand anyone else's experiences or our own unless we are willing to walk into it. I feel as if I am on the verge of more memory...it's a strange calm and settling. I am not sure why I feel this way, but there is a sense.
I remember going to the folk festival with you...your yearly activity. I hope that you can enjoy some of the activities and music this weekend.
I am gathering today...planning, packing, checking...making sure that we have everything we need for next week. I believe that we are going to have a good time. I will take my laptop along so that I can keep in touch.
Enjoy your day,
Maggie
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Missing Another Family Event
I think vacation prep must have taken over your life! Here it is festival fever. Our annual music and dance fest starts tonight. I have to work tomorrow, so I'm not going out tonight. I will have grandchildren here tonight so their parents can camp on the festival grounds overnight. They can stay late to see an old favorite. It's actually an old favorite of Dad's. Somehow they have all come to admire the singers he liked. I can see it through their eyes. When the singers were Dad's favorites, I avoided them on principal.
I rewatched the Brene lectures again last night. Know what I noticed? In the swamp pictures I can't exactly tell where the water line is. The reflection is so perfect that the image continues up into the sky and down into the muck. Made me think of, "As above, so below." It's just that above is clear and clean, and below traps us, keeps us running/sloshing in place, getting deeper into the slime - unless we stop struggling. Maybe then we have the best chance of floating.
The universe is so poetic when we take the time to see what it offers.
The family wedding is tomorrow. The relatives are gathering - all but three of the girls. I never know how I feel about going or about missing these events. When I left for Mom and Dad's fiftieth anniversary party, I was ambivalent. That was a new moon, dark night which was why I did not see two deer standing in the middle of my lane until the last minute. I hit both of them and really destroyed the front of my car. After the shock of hurting two animals past, then the uh-oh of car damage, I realized I did want to go. But if I had gone, I would never have had made that realization. I was the only one who missed that event. I think the last time we were all together was about 16 years ago, when everyone made it to Mom and Dad's the same summer. I don't remember any special celebration.
I think this just happens in our family...or maybe in modern families. Or maybe in big families. It just gets harder and harder to get everyone in one place at one time. I only remember Dad being with all of his siblings once. I don't ever remember it happening for Mom.
Grandchildren are here and sleeping, and I am exhausted. Hope all is well with you!
G'night!
I rewatched the Brene lectures again last night. Know what I noticed? In the swamp pictures I can't exactly tell where the water line is. The reflection is so perfect that the image continues up into the sky and down into the muck. Made me think of, "As above, so below." It's just that above is clear and clean, and below traps us, keeps us running/sloshing in place, getting deeper into the slime - unless we stop struggling. Maybe then we have the best chance of floating.
The universe is so poetic when we take the time to see what it offers.
The family wedding is tomorrow. The relatives are gathering - all but three of the girls. I never know how I feel about going or about missing these events. When I left for Mom and Dad's fiftieth anniversary party, I was ambivalent. That was a new moon, dark night which was why I did not see two deer standing in the middle of my lane until the last minute. I hit both of them and really destroyed the front of my car. After the shock of hurting two animals past, then the uh-oh of car damage, I realized I did want to go. But if I had gone, I would never have had made that realization. I was the only one who missed that event. I think the last time we were all together was about 16 years ago, when everyone made it to Mom and Dad's the same summer. I don't remember any special celebration.
I think this just happens in our family...or maybe in modern families. Or maybe in big families. It just gets harder and harder to get everyone in one place at one time. I only remember Dad being with all of his siblings once. I don't ever remember it happening for Mom.
Grandchildren are here and sleeping, and I am exhausted. Hope all is well with you!
G'night!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Way Will Open
I think we posted at the same time. I didn't expect that to be possible! And you are right. We simply continue to be faithful doing this work and know that way will open. I have had similar moments of saying the exact right thing at the exact right time and life opened something all new for me. Isn't it a gift to be here?????
Guess I'll go watch Brene's second lecture... thinking about turkey vultures and swamps! Oh, and my other daughter-in-law just told me that pioneers liked to settle near the swamps. That is where we find the largest variety of species, the most potential for life. It is a fertile place!
Guess I'll go watch Brene's second lecture... thinking about turkey vultures and swamps! Oh, and my other daughter-in-law just told me that pioneers liked to settle near the swamps. That is where we find the largest variety of species, the most potential for life. It is a fertile place!
The Dove is Healed
I let the dove go. If you remember, I saved a dove who had been attacked - most likely by the neighbor's cat - just after Easter. A little research said the primary feathers would regrow in about 30 days. They grew slower than that, and in the meantime, it started molting. It was, supposedly, a spring/summer molt. So the healing seemed to take forever. And I was worried about it's nutrition. I took the cage out in the sunshine, thinking birds might make Vitamin D the way humans do.
Yesterday I noted that the wings were finally even. And though the tail looked scraggly, it was there. So I decided to take it to the walled in garden, where I found it, assuming that if it couldn't fly, it would be safer in the walls, than floundering in the yard. So in the early quiet of this morning, I put it on the ground and it took to the sky. No hesitation. It seemed my heart would burst with joy. It was free! I cried a little, not quite sure why I was sad, but there was a tinge of sadness. I didn't want to keep it. I didn't bond to it like a pet, although it did stay in my office with the cat, the dog, the cockatiel every day.
I think it was part of my story, the work we are doing here.
"The song of this mourning dove tells you to mourn what has passed, but awaken to the promise of the future. It is a bird of prophecy and can help you see what you can give birth to in your life." (http://spiritlodge.yuku.com/topic/920#.UAcMAaBk6dE)
This inspired me to consider mourning or grieving. Mostly I think of mourning after someone I love has died. We mourn for about a year, I find. We get through one cycle of the seasons without our beloved, then we move forward. This is another experience of cycling and seeing from a new perspective. I think we leave pain and we see joy. Will I ever see the joy in our childhood? Will our siblings who see joy, and who blinded selves to grief in order to survive ever see the pain?
And as we mourn, and distance ourselves from the pain, gather up all of our little lost parts, we are ready for something new. I don't think I ever mourned lost childhood or lost selves until Al Anon. I think I was so shell shocked, just trying to survive, to get through each day that it never entered my mind to feel sad, or to even feel. So we are finally mourning the little girls we never had a chance to be...
And I think the mourning dove was ready to go to make room for an old friend. I took my grandson for a walk in the 95 degree heat yesterday afternoon. As we were making our way, oh so slowly - resting in the shade often - back up the hill, I was watching a turkey vulture ride the thermals. I love to watch them, and always impressed when they are on the ground. On the way up, I saw a feather on the ground...not lying on the ground, but planted like a flower. I knew it was for me, and the baby and I decided I should pick it. I brought it home, measured it, then used an on-line feather identification guide - wing feather from a turkey vulture. The feather in my hand had surfed through the sky. I was one degree separated from the clouds.Of course, I looked for information. Turkey vultures are gentle. They never attack, they never kill. They are outside of predator and prey - they only clean up after death. They clean up bodies and dead fruit. They are the only bird that can smell. They can see thermals in the sky. We revile them and call them dirty, but their scientific name is Cathartes aura, golden purifier.
I think about our family history, of our longer generational history, about our extended family's family history, and I see a battlefield littered with damaged Delanas. Maybe what we are doing is coming back through and digesting the stories and making something new of them. I'd like to think that were true.
So it was a bird day, then to calm my little companion, we watched a documentary about a sea turtle. So I had a feathered turtle kind of day!
I hope all is well with you and yours. Love to you all!!
Clare
Yesterday I noted that the wings were finally even. And though the tail looked scraggly, it was there. So I decided to take it to the walled in garden, where I found it, assuming that if it couldn't fly, it would be safer in the walls, than floundering in the yard. So in the early quiet of this morning, I put it on the ground and it took to the sky. No hesitation. It seemed my heart would burst with joy. It was free! I cried a little, not quite sure why I was sad, but there was a tinge of sadness. I didn't want to keep it. I didn't bond to it like a pet, although it did stay in my office with the cat, the dog, the cockatiel every day.
I think it was part of my story, the work we are doing here.
"The song of this mourning dove tells you to mourn what has passed, but awaken to the promise of the future. It is a bird of prophecy and can help you see what you can give birth to in your life." (http://spiritlodge.yuku.com/topic/920#.UAcMAaBk6dE)
This inspired me to consider mourning or grieving. Mostly I think of mourning after someone I love has died. We mourn for about a year, I find. We get through one cycle of the seasons without our beloved, then we move forward. This is another experience of cycling and seeing from a new perspective. I think we leave pain and we see joy. Will I ever see the joy in our childhood? Will our siblings who see joy, and who blinded selves to grief in order to survive ever see the pain?
And as we mourn, and distance ourselves from the pain, gather up all of our little lost parts, we are ready for something new. I don't think I ever mourned lost childhood or lost selves until Al Anon. I think I was so shell shocked, just trying to survive, to get through each day that it never entered my mind to feel sad, or to even feel. So we are finally mourning the little girls we never had a chance to be...
And I think the mourning dove was ready to go to make room for an old friend. I took my grandson for a walk in the 95 degree heat yesterday afternoon. As we were making our way, oh so slowly - resting in the shade often - back up the hill, I was watching a turkey vulture ride the thermals. I love to watch them, and always impressed when they are on the ground. On the way up, I saw a feather on the ground...not lying on the ground, but planted like a flower. I knew it was for me, and the baby and I decided I should pick it. I brought it home, measured it, then used an on-line feather identification guide - wing feather from a turkey vulture. The feather in my hand had surfed through the sky. I was one degree separated from the clouds.Of course, I looked for information. Turkey vultures are gentle. They never attack, they never kill. They are outside of predator and prey - they only clean up after death. They clean up bodies and dead fruit. They are the only bird that can smell. They can see thermals in the sky. We revile them and call them dirty, but their scientific name is Cathartes aura, golden purifier.
I think about our family history, of our longer generational history, about our extended family's family history, and I see a battlefield littered with damaged Delanas. Maybe what we are doing is coming back through and digesting the stories and making something new of them. I'd like to think that were true.
So it was a bird day, then to calm my little companion, we watched a documentary about a sea turtle. So I had a feathered turtle kind of day!
I hope all is well with you and yours. Love to you all!!
Clare
Trust
Last night I watched the Brene Brown TED talks again.
What you said about walking into a crowd and having them like you, even at your most vulnerable stage, reminded me of her second video relating the stories of the aftermath of her first talk.
She said that in many ways her life ended...
she realized that she was working hard to stay just under the radar to keep herself and her work small.
The universe has a way of altering our course in powerful ways without our realizing it. That is what will happen in my/our life. When we are ready (deemed by the universe) we will animate this dream into a reality. It's not about our time, state of being, or anything we do. We just have to open enough to walk the "road less traveled" and trust our instincts and intuition.
It's funny, I teach college students who inspire me.
3 short years ago, during my first semester, they terrified me.
I really wanted to send a quick email to the head of the Bio department saying that this was just not for me...I was not prepared to deal with the challenges.
But, being the stubborn person that I am, I persevered. I assumed that if they didn't have me they wouldn't have a course, so I was better than nothing.
Over the semesters that followed I have found a comfortable style and have been able to really get to know the students and let them know me. I interject my life views where it is appropriate, and respect theirs as they share them.
Anyway, I guess the point is that the universe knew I was ready to move back into a professional role and provided the avenue.
It happened by synchronicity at its best.
I had daughter#1 in the registrar's office dual enrolling at PSU as a senior. While I was there a friend came in and remarked to the registrar that I was an MD. The registrar asked me, point blank if I would consider covering a sabbatical in the bio dept. I asked her to contact me, that I would consider it and the rest is history.
I have no idea what I am going to do with my MSW next year when I graduate. But I trust that the way will open as I am ready to make those steps.
I trusted intuition in disclosing my/our past...It was a very clear message during Meeting one day...it's been a challenge, but the results are incredibly freeing for my soul and psyche. I have to trust to continue the walk/swim through all of this.
Last night I had such a different reaction to the powerpoint slide of the swamp from Brene Brown's talk. The first time I watched it the swamp was dark and murky. Last night I noticed the reflections of the trees on the water...reflecting all of it back on itself. There was an energy to it this time. It wasn't just a black hole.
Maybe that's one of the benefits of entering the swamp (or water)...
that our experiences can be reflected back to us, at a time that we are slowed down by walking through water, fully aware of the danger and the beauty that surrounds...
fully present...
fully open...
fully alive.
But in all of that there is a trust that we are where we are supposed to be at that very moment.
Trust is the key...
and trust is so hard for me.
Love and Blessings,
Maggie
What you said about walking into a crowd and having them like you, even at your most vulnerable stage, reminded me of her second video relating the stories of the aftermath of her first talk.
She said that in many ways her life ended...
she realized that she was working hard to stay just under the radar to keep herself and her work small.
The universe has a way of altering our course in powerful ways without our realizing it. That is what will happen in my/our life. When we are ready (deemed by the universe) we will animate this dream into a reality. It's not about our time, state of being, or anything we do. We just have to open enough to walk the "road less traveled" and trust our instincts and intuition.
It's funny, I teach college students who inspire me.
3 short years ago, during my first semester, they terrified me.
I really wanted to send a quick email to the head of the Bio department saying that this was just not for me...I was not prepared to deal with the challenges.
But, being the stubborn person that I am, I persevered. I assumed that if they didn't have me they wouldn't have a course, so I was better than nothing.
Over the semesters that followed I have found a comfortable style and have been able to really get to know the students and let them know me. I interject my life views where it is appropriate, and respect theirs as they share them.
Anyway, I guess the point is that the universe knew I was ready to move back into a professional role and provided the avenue.
It happened by synchronicity at its best.
I had daughter#1 in the registrar's office dual enrolling at PSU as a senior. While I was there a friend came in and remarked to the registrar that I was an MD. The registrar asked me, point blank if I would consider covering a sabbatical in the bio dept. I asked her to contact me, that I would consider it and the rest is history.
I have no idea what I am going to do with my MSW next year when I graduate. But I trust that the way will open as I am ready to make those steps.
I trusted intuition in disclosing my/our past...It was a very clear message during Meeting one day...it's been a challenge, but the results are incredibly freeing for my soul and psyche. I have to trust to continue the walk/swim through all of this.
Last night I had such a different reaction to the powerpoint slide of the swamp from Brene Brown's talk. The first time I watched it the swamp was dark and murky. Last night I noticed the reflections of the trees on the water...reflecting all of it back on itself. There was an energy to it this time. It wasn't just a black hole.
Maybe that's one of the benefits of entering the swamp (or water)...
that our experiences can be reflected back to us, at a time that we are slowed down by walking through water, fully aware of the danger and the beauty that surrounds...
fully present...
fully open...
fully alive.
But in all of that there is a trust that we are where we are supposed to be at that very moment.
Trust is the key...
and trust is so hard for me.
Love and Blessings,
Maggie
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Brilliant!!!!!
Brilliant...I am in awe of your breakthrough. We are supposed to be mystics, and perhaps it is impossible to be a mystic without walking through fire. Maybe this is the role we took on with this life, and maybe it isn't too hard. And maybe if we get people to walk back through their pain, we create a whole society of mystics, and I'm telling you - that's who I want to hang out with. St. Clare of the Kitchen Sink was a somber pain in the ass!! That was the part of me that was most like Gramma, and not playful like Grammy. But I will always remember to thank both for their gifts...they both led me. They have both been part of this process. They are part of this process. It is profound to consider they may be speaking to us through our physical beings. (Coincidentally, my daughter-in-law sent me a beautiful post by Laura Grace Weldon. If interested: http://lauragraceweldon.com/2012/06/12/mother-child-are-linked-at-the-cellular-level/) Synchronicity may be my favorite miracle!
So why do we cannonize the suffering and ignore the truly valiant spirits that overcome? I love this!!!!! I have so much emotion roiling through my breast - both joy and sadness and unnamed feelings. Thank you, thank whoever inspired you - because we are never alone!!
While we suffer, we are either all-involved with the pain, or we are numbing. Neither state leaves us open for anything else. Experiencing a toothache comes to mind - when it hurts, that pain defines your whole existence. Once the tooth has been treated, healing begins.
What messages did I give my children? I cringe when I think about it, but I also speak honestly and openly about it with them. I listen when they share, and don't discount. I consider their advice when they see things that I miss. Part of the destruction of our psyche came from being told we did not understand or that our memory was flawed. I try to be honest and respectful, but truly wish I could have always been this.
I don't think we have ropes and threads holding us down. It's just thread - and not very strong thread. It doesn't have to be. We're like baby elephants. When young, they are bound by a leg chain, and convinced they can not break it. They are so convinced, that when at their most powerful, they still believe in the power of the chain. I hate what we do to elephants, but I also hate that the same technique works on the humane. There's just a fine fiber holding us down, restraining us, keeping us from truly living, but we believe so much in that thread, and besides it's so safe here - believing I'm unworthy and unlovable. What if I step out? What is it like to truly live? What if people don't like me? What if people do like me? I learned the truth from our parents that I am basically unlovable. Why am I so afraid? Do I fear they were right, or do I fear they were wrong? If they are right, then what is my purpose for being here? If they are wrong - then why have I had to suffer such pain for so many years? There's no good answer...
The other thing that is nagging, is - what if I do venture forward, walk into the crowds. I have done it before and found that people do like me. Some people like me more than I like me, and that makes me very uncomfortable. Becoming receptive, allowing people to see me, like me, respect me, which strikes me suddenly as the essence of vulnerability, seems so confusing - like I'm trying to solve a brain teaser...this should be easy, if only I adjust my viewpoint a bit. I can love others, but I still can't let others love me...NO!!! Let me rephrase - I am still resisting allowing others to love me.
Courage, my sister. Courage - the whole heart - will be the torch. We will know what to do. It might be a book??? (from the digitally impaired technophobe who loves the feel of a book and the smell of old paper...)
We are making progress...we have changed. We have changed because of our innate courage, but we have changed because we have each other. We have changed because we are not alone. We are changing because we know that no one should be alone. Have fun preparing for your week at the beach. Enjoy the process! And smile today!
So why do we cannonize the suffering and ignore the truly valiant spirits that overcome? I love this!!!!! I have so much emotion roiling through my breast - both joy and sadness and unnamed feelings. Thank you, thank whoever inspired you - because we are never alone!!
While we suffer, we are either all-involved with the pain, or we are numbing. Neither state leaves us open for anything else. Experiencing a toothache comes to mind - when it hurts, that pain defines your whole existence. Once the tooth has been treated, healing begins.
What messages did I give my children? I cringe when I think about it, but I also speak honestly and openly about it with them. I listen when they share, and don't discount. I consider their advice when they see things that I miss. Part of the destruction of our psyche came from being told we did not understand or that our memory was flawed. I try to be honest and respectful, but truly wish I could have always been this.
I don't think we have ropes and threads holding us down. It's just thread - and not very strong thread. It doesn't have to be. We're like baby elephants. When young, they are bound by a leg chain, and convinced they can not break it. They are so convinced, that when at their most powerful, they still believe in the power of the chain. I hate what we do to elephants, but I also hate that the same technique works on the humane. There's just a fine fiber holding us down, restraining us, keeping us from truly living, but we believe so much in that thread, and besides it's so safe here - believing I'm unworthy and unlovable. What if I step out? What is it like to truly live? What if people don't like me? What if people do like me? I learned the truth from our parents that I am basically unlovable. Why am I so afraid? Do I fear they were right, or do I fear they were wrong? If they are right, then what is my purpose for being here? If they are wrong - then why have I had to suffer such pain for so many years? There's no good answer...
The other thing that is nagging, is - what if I do venture forward, walk into the crowds. I have done it before and found that people do like me. Some people like me more than I like me, and that makes me very uncomfortable. Becoming receptive, allowing people to see me, like me, respect me, which strikes me suddenly as the essence of vulnerability, seems so confusing - like I'm trying to solve a brain teaser...this should be easy, if only I adjust my viewpoint a bit. I can love others, but I still can't let others love me...NO!!! Let me rephrase - I am still resisting allowing others to love me.
Courage, my sister. Courage - the whole heart - will be the torch. We will know what to do. It might be a book??? (from the digitally impaired technophobe who loves the feel of a book and the smell of old paper...)
We are making progress...we have changed. We have changed because of our innate courage, but we have changed because we have each other. We have changed because we are not alone. We are changing because we know that no one should be alone. Have fun preparing for your week at the beach. Enjoy the process! And smile today!
A moment of clarity
I just took a 3 mile walk in the heat and humidity...but it was inspiring.
I had an Ah Ha moment and thought that I would share it with you.
It is not possible to grow while you are suffering!
At Gannon, in Catholic ethics class I learned the value of growth through suffering. It made sense because the saints were saints because they suffered.
Later I learned about the mystics, who left their suffering behind and experienced divine intimacy, ecstasy...whatever you want to call it. They had a paradigm shift that did not allow their identity to be suffering...it was part of their history, but not their present experience.
Physiologically it makes perfect sense...the two processes of growth and fight or flight are mutually exclusive. One physiologic pathway turns off the other.
In everyday life the hormonal and chemical milieu for growth is present. But when a threat is perceived those pathways are turned abruptly off and the stress response takes over. Once the threat is dealt with the body returns to growth phase. If the pathways don't shut down...chronic stress...there can be no growth...only survival...physically, emotionally, spiritually...
I had an Ah Ha moment and thought that I would share it with you.
It is not possible to grow while you are suffering!
At Gannon, in Catholic ethics class I learned the value of growth through suffering. It made sense because the saints were saints because they suffered.
Later I learned about the mystics, who left their suffering behind and experienced divine intimacy, ecstasy...whatever you want to call it. They had a paradigm shift that did not allow their identity to be suffering...it was part of their history, but not their present experience.
Physiologically it makes perfect sense...the two processes of growth and fight or flight are mutually exclusive. One physiologic pathway turns off the other.
In everyday life the hormonal and chemical milieu for growth is present. But when a threat is perceived those pathways are turned abruptly off and the stress response takes over. Once the threat is dealt with the body returns to growth phase. If the pathways don't shut down...chronic stress...there can be no growth...only survival...physically, emotionally, spiritually...
Empty to be filled
I am going to the beach next week and know that I need to play.
I need to walk, run, splash and laugh...really, pee your pants laugh (that's not hard after 4 kids!)...
it's revitalizing.
I am gearing myself up for vacation...it takes alot for me to leave my home..mental and physical preparation...but I am doing that work now...so I will be ready.
After I wrote the last post I also had the thought, what will the family say...how will it affect them?
I actually quickly answered my own question that this is not about me or my family it is about all of the children who are being hurt, from the inside out, and living with the scars for the rest of their lives. It is killing us as a race.
I finished a book last night (well I still have the epilogue to read) called the Biology of Belief by Bruce Lipton...it was a moment of synchronicity that I chose to read it.
It was very much in tune with my research...the epigenetics or environmental factors that affect our gene expression...
but throughout the last chapter that I read you were very present in the words...
it was called Conscious Parenting: Parents as Genetic Engineers.
He writes that everything parents do with and to and around their children affects the genetic expression and health and well being of that child. It talks about conscious conception and conscious pregnancy and how responsive the developing fetus is to the environment. It is one reason why no 2 children are alike. It talked about gentle birth, having our babies close to us as much as possible, teaching by their observation very early on. It talked about the dichotomy of the conscious and subconscious minds...the conscious mind trying to make novel choices and changes in the life while the subconscious plays back those "old tapes" that we learned too well as children...you are worthless...you are to be seen, not heard...you are fat....why try when you are going to fail anyway...I told you so...just find a nice man to marry you and take care of you...ad nauseum....no wonder kids turn out just like their parents...and their grandparents...that's who is programming their brains.
I spent the night wondering what messages I've programmed into the heads of my 4. I hope they are positive, empowering messages. But I remember a time, after the 4th was born when I was desperately depressed and angrily said things like...I gave up everything for you. I stayed physically present, but my soul wanted to run away. That's when I found music again. I started to take voice lessons and then sing publicly and then write my own music...it was my channel to find my voice.
I want to sing again now...but for some reason I am resisting setting up a lesson with my old friend and music coach. I can't explain why...but I just resist it right now.
My life is so full of so many things,
where do I turn to find peace?
How do I find the time and the space
to connect with my God in this place?
My spirit's tied down with ropes and with threads,
keeping me from my Lord.
I pray for the strength to break free of this hold
and rise gently back to home.
How do I empty myself of this world,so that You can fill me up?
How do I let go of all that I am to move closer to Your plan?
Those last 2 lines are all about the "programming" that was part of my early life...letting it all go...recognizing the false beliefs that I have embraced for far too long...and moving ahead without that baggage weighing me down...the shroud in the swamp!
I have been in a funck...a depression.
I have noticed a change though over the past week or so...more energy, more awareness, more focus. I wrote over 20 pages of research proposal this weekend and it was coherent and good...
I may be entering a manic phase...
Mania for me is creative drive...it is when I wrote my songs...recorded my songs...felt God's presence guiding me...was on fire with the Light...
it was one of the reasons that I resisted taking meds for depression...I didn't want to give up those creative, powerful, connected episodes.
So how does one begin a grassroots, Me Too, movement? I will have to consider the organizational steps...maybe I will research MADD. I really feel that this research will highlight the problem and will be a springboard for speaking out on the subject...it is one of my main motivators for the project.
I am also starting on the Board of our county domestic violence program so that will give me some place to work and organize. I will watch for the openings and not be afraid of the paths even if they aren't clearly lit.
I love you,
Blessings,
Maggie
I need to walk, run, splash and laugh...really, pee your pants laugh (that's not hard after 4 kids!)...
it's revitalizing.
I am gearing myself up for vacation...it takes alot for me to leave my home..mental and physical preparation...but I am doing that work now...so I will be ready.
After I wrote the last post I also had the thought, what will the family say...how will it affect them?
I actually quickly answered my own question that this is not about me or my family it is about all of the children who are being hurt, from the inside out, and living with the scars for the rest of their lives. It is killing us as a race.
I finished a book last night (well I still have the epilogue to read) called the Biology of Belief by Bruce Lipton...it was a moment of synchronicity that I chose to read it.
It was very much in tune with my research...the epigenetics or environmental factors that affect our gene expression...
but throughout the last chapter that I read you were very present in the words...
it was called Conscious Parenting: Parents as Genetic Engineers.
He writes that everything parents do with and to and around their children affects the genetic expression and health and well being of that child. It talks about conscious conception and conscious pregnancy and how responsive the developing fetus is to the environment. It is one reason why no 2 children are alike. It talked about gentle birth, having our babies close to us as much as possible, teaching by their observation very early on. It talked about the dichotomy of the conscious and subconscious minds...the conscious mind trying to make novel choices and changes in the life while the subconscious plays back those "old tapes" that we learned too well as children...you are worthless...you are to be seen, not heard...you are fat....why try when you are going to fail anyway...I told you so...just find a nice man to marry you and take care of you...ad nauseum....no wonder kids turn out just like their parents...and their grandparents...that's who is programming their brains.
I spent the night wondering what messages I've programmed into the heads of my 4. I hope they are positive, empowering messages. But I remember a time, after the 4th was born when I was desperately depressed and angrily said things like...I gave up everything for you. I stayed physically present, but my soul wanted to run away. That's when I found music again. I started to take voice lessons and then sing publicly and then write my own music...it was my channel to find my voice.
I want to sing again now...but for some reason I am resisting setting up a lesson with my old friend and music coach. I can't explain why...but I just resist it right now.
My life is so full of so many things,
where do I turn to find peace?
How do I find the time and the space
to connect with my God in this place?
My spirit's tied down with ropes and with threads,
keeping me from my Lord.
I pray for the strength to break free of this hold
and rise gently back to home.
How do I empty myself of this world,so that You can fill me up?
How do I let go of all that I am to move closer to Your plan?
Those last 2 lines are all about the "programming" that was part of my early life...letting it all go...recognizing the false beliefs that I have embraced for far too long...and moving ahead without that baggage weighing me down...the shroud in the swamp!
I have been in a funck...a depression.
I have noticed a change though over the past week or so...more energy, more awareness, more focus. I wrote over 20 pages of research proposal this weekend and it was coherent and good...
I may be entering a manic phase...
Mania for me is creative drive...it is when I wrote my songs...recorded my songs...felt God's presence guiding me...was on fire with the Light...
it was one of the reasons that I resisted taking meds for depression...I didn't want to give up those creative, powerful, connected episodes.
So how does one begin a grassroots, Me Too, movement? I will have to consider the organizational steps...maybe I will research MADD. I really feel that this research will highlight the problem and will be a springboard for speaking out on the subject...it is one of my main motivators for the project.
I am also starting on the Board of our county domestic violence program so that will give me some place to work and organize. I will watch for the openings and not be afraid of the paths even if they aren't clearly lit.
I love you,
Blessings,
Maggie
Monday, July 16, 2012
Rolling down the hill...
Me, too - B#4 had a stuffed toy named Me too when he was about 3 years old...so let's do it. Let's publicly label ourselves. And wear buttons that say Me too!
I will admit, one of my first reactions was, "I don't want to hurt Mom and Dad." Isn't it wild that we protect our abusers, or at least those who allowed the abuse to happen? I had a moment of solidarity with our two youngest sisters who don't want to talk about our childhood traumas, because they had a happy childhood and they don't want our memories to ruin theirs or to upset Mom and Dad who were trying as hard as they could. There is a deep compassion in my heart - they weren't intentionally cruel and abusive - well, mostly not. It was a combination of ignorance, avoidance, repetition of learned behaviors and pain release. Did I get them all? But who cares. It still hurt and it damaged us, and we didn't deserve it. And if a lot of parents are mostly unconsciously abusive, then we need to do some consciousness awareness raising. My kids would be eligible for the group, and I would feel relieved. So my logic, or maybe the stirrings of compassion for myself say - Do it.
I took the step from I don't want to hurt Mom and Dad to I want to be a power that stops violence, very quickly.
I have been considering your words and think that the most 'normal' people I know are plastic. The most compassionate and loving, really alive people I know suffer from depression. There are times when I feel like I don;t know how to be present, or I don't know how to make someone feel like they matter. I stop and think "What would S, do?" S. is a friend who is absolutely loving, absolutely kind, absolutely present. But she has moments where I see her disappear behind her eyes for a moment. I know she is fighting to stay present. I know she has moments of depression - not just a momentary sadness, the natural response to painful circumstances or events - but the can't escape from the past depression that won't let go.
If I consider our paths, perhaps we should do this together. You understand the medical, scientific, physical, psychological effects of abuse...this is what happens to us when we are abused as children. I have been trying to understand community, gifting, attachment parenting, living a life that is not institutionalized, speaking out about injustice - although the circumstances of my life have rendered me silent in the past few years. Our world views are compatible...
I had a wise friend years ago - one of those who drifted out of my life after a few years - who averred that humans learn best by imitating, then improving on the patterns. It makes it difficult to be a warm, available, nurturing mother when it's so hard to find a role model. And it's even worse because now women go back to work six weeks postpartum and most often institutionalize their babies. So those fantastic moms have only a few exhausted hours to nurture, and moms who don't have a clear idea just do what they see portrayed in the media.
I think the same is true for romantic relationships. We have so few good role models of truly attached, egalitarian, mutually respectful couples. I mentioned only one. How can we have a good relationship when there's nothing healthy to base our behavior and reactions on? And so we rely on the media, common culture - which has a disgusting, disgusted attitude toward women.
I may have said this before, but years and years ago I was reading a book about dysfunctional families. The author said 96% of families are dysfunctional. OK, so there's the first step. Me too! I am not alone. Shame dissipates, because I am not alone. Now we need the second step - show me the functional few. I need to know what healthy looks like!
I am not alone...Me too...it reminds me of my first Al Anon meeting. I almost vomited in the hall before I walked into that room. But then I saw nice normal people, and I saw some people I was acquainted with socially, people I admired. Somehow I stopped seeing myself as the monster. Me too.
Interrupted at this point, and now, half a day later, I am back. I watched a two year old and three year old all day. I taught them to roll down a hill. I actually laid down and rolled. About the third time down, I had my arms extended above my head, and it was an out of control roll. When I stopped, it took a long time for the dizziness to stop. It took my back to my childhood when we rolled down the hill in front of our grandparents house. I know I need to play. But the out of control created something breathless in me...not sure if it was good or bad...
But I lost my train of thought from this morning. And now I am truly exhausted!
Love to you and sweet dreams!
I will admit, one of my first reactions was, "I don't want to hurt Mom and Dad." Isn't it wild that we protect our abusers, or at least those who allowed the abuse to happen? I had a moment of solidarity with our two youngest sisters who don't want to talk about our childhood traumas, because they had a happy childhood and they don't want our memories to ruin theirs or to upset Mom and Dad who were trying as hard as they could. There is a deep compassion in my heart - they weren't intentionally cruel and abusive - well, mostly not. It was a combination of ignorance, avoidance, repetition of learned behaviors and pain release. Did I get them all? But who cares. It still hurt and it damaged us, and we didn't deserve it. And if a lot of parents are mostly unconsciously abusive, then we need to do some consciousness awareness raising. My kids would be eligible for the group, and I would feel relieved. So my logic, or maybe the stirrings of compassion for myself say - Do it.
I took the step from I don't want to hurt Mom and Dad to I want to be a power that stops violence, very quickly.
I have been considering your words and think that the most 'normal' people I know are plastic. The most compassionate and loving, really alive people I know suffer from depression. There are times when I feel like I don;t know how to be present, or I don't know how to make someone feel like they matter. I stop and think "What would S, do?" S. is a friend who is absolutely loving, absolutely kind, absolutely present. But she has moments where I see her disappear behind her eyes for a moment. I know she is fighting to stay present. I know she has moments of depression - not just a momentary sadness, the natural response to painful circumstances or events - but the can't escape from the past depression that won't let go.
If I consider our paths, perhaps we should do this together. You understand the medical, scientific, physical, psychological effects of abuse...this is what happens to us when we are abused as children. I have been trying to understand community, gifting, attachment parenting, living a life that is not institutionalized, speaking out about injustice - although the circumstances of my life have rendered me silent in the past few years. Our world views are compatible...
I had a wise friend years ago - one of those who drifted out of my life after a few years - who averred that humans learn best by imitating, then improving on the patterns. It makes it difficult to be a warm, available, nurturing mother when it's so hard to find a role model. And it's even worse because now women go back to work six weeks postpartum and most often institutionalize their babies. So those fantastic moms have only a few exhausted hours to nurture, and moms who don't have a clear idea just do what they see portrayed in the media.
I think the same is true for romantic relationships. We have so few good role models of truly attached, egalitarian, mutually respectful couples. I mentioned only one. How can we have a good relationship when there's nothing healthy to base our behavior and reactions on? And so we rely on the media, common culture - which has a disgusting, disgusted attitude toward women.
I may have said this before, but years and years ago I was reading a book about dysfunctional families. The author said 96% of families are dysfunctional. OK, so there's the first step. Me too! I am not alone. Shame dissipates, because I am not alone. Now we need the second step - show me the functional few. I need to know what healthy looks like!
I am not alone...Me too...it reminds me of my first Al Anon meeting. I almost vomited in the hall before I walked into that room. But then I saw nice normal people, and I saw some people I was acquainted with socially, people I admired. Somehow I stopped seeing myself as the monster. Me too.
Interrupted at this point, and now, half a day later, I am back. I watched a two year old and three year old all day. I taught them to roll down a hill. I actually laid down and rolled. About the third time down, I had my arms extended above my head, and it was an out of control roll. When I stopped, it took a long time for the dizziness to stop. It took my back to my childhood when we rolled down the hill in front of our grandparents house. I know I need to play. But the out of control created something breathless in me...not sure if it was good or bad...
But I lost my train of thought from this morning. And now I am truly exhausted!
Love to you and sweet dreams!
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