So, I am soloing again...what will be the fodder for my thoughts?
My life and schedule have taken off this week...
school is back in session...for the kids...for me.
I didn't realize and appreciate how much I was enjoying my summer without a demanding schedule.
I do find comfort in the structure of the schedule though...so I will take the good with the bad.
So I am looking at my desk...
it is a mess...but I know where everything is...
And I find 3 books..two of which I have already shared and commented on.
The third book is called Illuminated Rumi, translations and commentary by Coleman Barks.
A good friend introduced me to the wisdom and poetry of Rumi several years ago...
and also to the incredible translations by Coleman Barks...she gave me a CD of readings.
The southern accent of Barks reading the wisdom of Rumi from the 1200's is amazing.
The book begins...
Come, Come, whoever you are!
Wanderer, Worshipper, Lover of Leaving come.
This is not a caravan of despair. It doesn't matter if you've broken your vow a hundred times,
Still Come, and yet again Come!
The divine invites us to come along on the journey of a lifetime...a love filled journey of discovery...discovering who we really are.
What strange beings we are!
That sitting in Hell
at the bottom of the dark
we are afraid of our own
I, and I believe that we, have sat in a self imposed Hell for long enough...
stuck in the swamp...
afraid to let go of the shroud that weighs us down while it covers our wounds...
we are afraid of the unknown...
preferring to sit in pain within the familiar.
The reanimation is driven by acknowledging that the wounds don't have to be kept secret and hidden...
It is about sharing experiences...
offering compassion to others...
accepting compassion from others...
accepting Me Too.
One final poem for today that is fitting...
A night full of talking that hurts,
my worst held-back secrets:
Everything has to do with loving.
This night will pass. Then we have work to do.
Painstaking work,
Then the swan spreads his wings.
It amazes me that the human experience is so constant. In the 1200's people struggled much as they do today. This is the same time in history that St. John of the Cross wrote The Dark Night of the Soul...
Where is the evolution of human souls?
Maggie
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Please solo again...
Hi Maggie,
The congestion from the smoke has led to colds here. I spent yesterday with a baby sleeping on me while I tended a feverish boy. Everyone seems to be on the mend today. But now I am trying to find all my things and pack. It's my last night with this little family, and I'm already sad about having to leave. Needless to say, you will be soloing until Monday. Then I will be back to longer, regular posts.
I admire the way you are reanimating yourself. I seem to be having a hard time defining wild, or recognizing wildness in myself. I will sit with it for awhile and keep picking at it. I think I know, but need different words or concepts.
Have a great weekend. I'll catch you onj the east coast!!
Love you!
The congestion from the smoke has led to colds here. I spent yesterday with a baby sleeping on me while I tended a feverish boy. Everyone seems to be on the mend today. But now I am trying to find all my things and pack. It's my last night with this little family, and I'm already sad about having to leave. Needless to say, you will be soloing until Monday. Then I will be back to longer, regular posts.
I admire the way you are reanimating yourself. I seem to be having a hard time defining wild, or recognizing wildness in myself. I will sit with it for awhile and keep picking at it. I think I know, but need different words or concepts.
Have a great weekend. I'll catch you onj the east coast!!
Love you!
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Quick thoughts
Clare,
It is true that too many of us have been stripped of our true identity...or at least forced to put it away for safe keeping...but then many never dare to take it out...even when it is safe again...or is it ever truly safe?
I would like to think that I am reanimating myself through this healing process...through furthering my education...through a conscious opening and destruction of that wall that enclosed my heart. I would like to think that I am refortifying my blood and no longer am I an anemic portrayal of my true, wild self.
It is a work in process...inertia is beginning to move in my favor... it is gaining momentum.
I started my internship today...one of my charges is to do at least one continuing education program for social workers...I have a forum to speak!!! I am so excited by that opportunity...I am considering offering several topics to be presented...I may have found one outlet for my voice. i will keep you posted.
Long day...have to get the boys heading to bed.
Love and Light,
Maggie
It is true that too many of us have been stripped of our true identity...or at least forced to put it away for safe keeping...but then many never dare to take it out...even when it is safe again...or is it ever truly safe?
I would like to think that I am reanimating myself through this healing process...through furthering my education...through a conscious opening and destruction of that wall that enclosed my heart. I would like to think that I am refortifying my blood and no longer am I an anemic portrayal of my true, wild self.
It is a work in process...inertia is beginning to move in my favor... it is gaining momentum.
I started my internship today...one of my charges is to do at least one continuing education program for social workers...I have a forum to speak!!! I am so excited by that opportunity...I am considering offering several topics to be presented...I may have found one outlet for my voice. i will keep you posted.
Long day...have to get the boys heading to bed.
Love and Light,
Maggie
Baby's stirring...must go...
I'm in Supermom mode again. But in arms napping is the only guarantee of time to type - albeit in slow motion! I have noticed/remembered that Supermom functions efficiently, but without much thought. Maybe it's really Automom.
The current national discussion about rape may be ridiculous, but it is also terrifying. The underlying belief, which we inherently agree with if we participate in the discussion, is that rape is unavoidable and we must accept it as part of our reality. It's the "boys will be boys" mentality and as long as the boys are in charge, they will blame women for being raped and getting pregnant. Too bad we don't have any men in positions of power - or too bad the few men in power have no voice. Maybe if the media was not owned by the corporations...
I have read that in the indigenous cultures here, rape was unheard of. The Europeans shocked the natives with their barbaric violence. It is so strange that we identify this as civilized. But in the native societies women were valued equally with the men. Women had positions of power and their insight and direction was valued. There is an example of the respect you value and seek.
Somehow we have to start a debate by making people consider - why is rape so acceptable. I have lots of theories, but it's hard to share with one hand...
You mentioned respect. I think a large part of the damage done is the intentional killing of self-respect at an early age. As women, as children, as people of color, we learn at an early age we are less than rich white guys and worth-less. We believe it and spend our lives begging for crumbs from their table. If we don't know how to respect ourselves, we don't know how to get it from others. I think part of Dad's problems come from lack of self-respect because his family didn't have a lot and he wasn't a scholar. Add child abuse and his psyche had to have been destroyed. I see it in me, too.
I have been reading the story of the sealskin in Women Who Run With Wolves. In the story a man steals a woman's sealskin, because he is lonely. This forces her to remain in her human form, trapping her, preventing her from returning to her wild self. There was one line that struck me. We, as adult women, are but anemic versions of our younger, wilder selves. Culture steals our skin, forcing us to conform. I was wondering if I had a younger, wilder self. It seems I have been stripped, contained, controlled all of my life. Maybe that is why I have had such a hard time defining and identifying wildness in women, and moreso, in myself.
Baby's stirring...must go...
The current national discussion about rape may be ridiculous, but it is also terrifying. The underlying belief, which we inherently agree with if we participate in the discussion, is that rape is unavoidable and we must accept it as part of our reality. It's the "boys will be boys" mentality and as long as the boys are in charge, they will blame women for being raped and getting pregnant. Too bad we don't have any men in positions of power - or too bad the few men in power have no voice. Maybe if the media was not owned by the corporations...
I have read that in the indigenous cultures here, rape was unheard of. The Europeans shocked the natives with their barbaric violence. It is so strange that we identify this as civilized. But in the native societies women were valued equally with the men. Women had positions of power and their insight and direction was valued. There is an example of the respect you value and seek.
Somehow we have to start a debate by making people consider - why is rape so acceptable. I have lots of theories, but it's hard to share with one hand...
You mentioned respect. I think a large part of the damage done is the intentional killing of self-respect at an early age. As women, as children, as people of color, we learn at an early age we are less than rich white guys and worth-less. We believe it and spend our lives begging for crumbs from their table. If we don't know how to respect ourselves, we don't know how to get it from others. I think part of Dad's problems come from lack of self-respect because his family didn't have a lot and he wasn't a scholar. Add child abuse and his psyche had to have been destroyed. I see it in me, too.
I have been reading the story of the sealskin in Women Who Run With Wolves. In the story a man steals a woman's sealskin, because he is lonely. This forces her to remain in her human form, trapping her, preventing her from returning to her wild self. There was one line that struck me. We, as adult women, are but anemic versions of our younger, wilder selves. Culture steals our skin, forcing us to conform. I was wondering if I had a younger, wilder self. It seems I have been stripped, contained, controlled all of my life. Maybe that is why I have had such a hard time defining and identifying wildness in women, and moreso, in myself.
Baby's stirring...must go...
Monday, August 27, 2012
Respect
I am glad that you are enjoying your family and that they are enjoying you.
It is true that we busy ourselves with the symptoms and disease instead of looking at the source and the truth at the heart of the matter.
I began my Biology class today, as I regularly begin every semester telling the students to be skeptical...don't believe just because it is what everyone else believes.
I pointed out that until Einstein, Newtonian physics had all of the answers. Euclidean geometry has been expanded upon to include fractal and topolgic geometries among others. Darwin's theory of evolution is being questioned by a scientist who has proposed morphologic evolution.
The most incredible part of science is that we can't know it all...we know the little bit that's exposed and if we are curious skeptics the discoveries will not cease.
The current debate about rape is ridiculous....only men would propose such nonsense...it is men who think that every female is a sexual outlet for their physical needs and desires.
I have repeatedly come to the concept of respect many times over the past several weeks...
thoughts of it, discussions about it...
if we truly respected ourselves, others and the world violence would cease.
The violence of child and domestic abuse is about power and control over others who we perceive to be less powerful than our self.
If nations respected differences and were content to share power and become interdependent wars and aggression would cease.
If we respected the earth and her resources we would never again exploit the land for gain, for money...which is perceived as power.
I have been once again charged with the task of what to teach in First Day School at Quaker Meeting. I have chosen the testimony of Community...interdependence...empowerment...sharing and trusting the community (family, local and global) and its members. Hopefully the concept of respect for differences will be pervasive throughout the lessons.
I will be checking in now in the evenings as my days are now structured by school.
I look forward to hearing from you...
Maggie
It is true that we busy ourselves with the symptoms and disease instead of looking at the source and the truth at the heart of the matter.
I began my Biology class today, as I regularly begin every semester telling the students to be skeptical...don't believe just because it is what everyone else believes.
I pointed out that until Einstein, Newtonian physics had all of the answers. Euclidean geometry has been expanded upon to include fractal and topolgic geometries among others. Darwin's theory of evolution is being questioned by a scientist who has proposed morphologic evolution.
The most incredible part of science is that we can't know it all...we know the little bit that's exposed and if we are curious skeptics the discoveries will not cease.
The current debate about rape is ridiculous....only men would propose such nonsense...it is men who think that every female is a sexual outlet for their physical needs and desires.
I have repeatedly come to the concept of respect many times over the past several weeks...
thoughts of it, discussions about it...
if we truly respected ourselves, others and the world violence would cease.
The violence of child and domestic abuse is about power and control over others who we perceive to be less powerful than our self.
If nations respected differences and were content to share power and become interdependent wars and aggression would cease.
If we respected the earth and her resources we would never again exploit the land for gain, for money...which is perceived as power.
I have been once again charged with the task of what to teach in First Day School at Quaker Meeting. I have chosen the testimony of Community...interdependence...empowerment...sharing and trusting the community (family, local and global) and its members. Hopefully the concept of respect for differences will be pervasive throughout the lessons.
I will be checking in now in the evenings as my days are now structured by school.
I look forward to hearing from you...
Maggie
Those who do not learn from history...
Good morning,
I am sorry I have been AWOL! This was my last weekend here, and so we were busy. But there are wildfires in the region, and the smoke has led to congestion and sore throats for all! I had to walk out of meeting in the middle of the silence because I was hacking. Apparently this is common in the west.
I missed you! Once I get home, I'll be back on my regular schedule and will have the luxury of being able to write long, thoughtful - or rambling - responses. Of course, once I go home, I will miss the kids like crazy. I hate being so spread out!
Your last posts are thought-provoking. Because I have to work this morning, I'm simply going to respond to some of it.
I don't know why I became a vegetarian. I was 17 and I woke up one morning and realized I needed to stop eating meat. Then I began reading about it and discovered Frances Moore Lappe, Diet for a Small Planet. I did not eat meat until I was 23 and pregnant. My closest friend convinced me that my baby would have skull deformities if I didn't get enough minerals meat provides. So I ate meat during my pregnancies, and had periods of vegetarianism thoughout my life. I am waiting for the trigger that will get me past eating poultry now, then I will be vegetarian again.
I think the process of simply dealing with symptoms is pervasive - no matter what the problem. We have been trained to look at the problem and ponder and puzzle. Our education system does not teach us to look at the past or to analyze. There is a quote I appreciate:
“Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it” -George Santayana
We blunder through, putting out fires, never realizing that there is a simple fix. Not simple, exactly - the fix will take a complete change of mindset and lots of hard work, but it is one of those answers that we can't believe it's so simple!
I think those in charge benefit from keeping us busy with putting out fires. We are so exhausted we don't notice what is truly happening in our society.
This national debate about whether woman who are raped should be forced to have the baby is a great example. We are all so inflamed by our opinions about rape and abortion that no one is looking at the core problem. Why is rape acceptable? The questions should be: Why do we live in a society where women are raped so frequently? And, Why are our lawmakers protecting rapists in the guise of protecting babies?
The answer is simple. Conceiving babies when we really want them. We should all be wanted. That is the most basic human right. Gentle birth. Extended breastfeeding. Not separating moms from their infants. Not separating dads from their families. Living in communities where young families are supported. I never read Hillary Clinton's It Takes a Village to Raise a Child, But I often thought the title should be: It Takes a Village to Support the Parents Who are Raisisng a Child.
I have more to say, but it is almost time for me to work, so I wanted to share one last thought. I was at a study group with Friends once, and we were discussing something biblical. I commented on how violent the god of the Old Testament was compared to the message of the Christ, who was sharing his Father's word - presumably the same person. I wondered aloud who changed - us or god. A dear Friend started sputtering. Finally he managed to say, "But God's God?" So I understand your line about God learning, too. It doesn't frighten me at all.
I love you. I got up about 45 minutes early. I will do that again tomorrow, if possible. Have a magical day.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Lessons from my reading
Clare,
I am sure that you are busy with your grand babies so I will share tidbits from the book that I just read.
Changing Course: Healing from Loss, Abandonment, and Fear by Claudia Black, PhD.
Early in the course of my journey I came to realize that "there is another reality than the one that I live. I want it". I have read previously to want something always keeps it elusive...but to say that "I am" living a new reality, a different reality allows it to materialize.
I have learned to pray with the words "I am"...very powerful words historically as well as personally.
I would change this statement to, 'there is another reality than the one that I live. I am living it.'
"I am willing to take risks to have it."...the new reality...the wholehearted life that I seek requires that I step outside of my comfort zone to attain. I am ready to do that.
"If you have pain, you deserve to heal."
"If you have anger or guilt from your past, you deserve to heal"...who doesn't carry some pain, guilt and anger in their lives...physical, emotional, and/or spiritual. We all seek healing...Helig.
In addition, "If you are protecting yourself from past pain in ways that are causing you even more pain in the present you deserve to heal." All of the disease, mental and physical, that is a result of past abuse and neglect in our family and society makes this statement scream at us. Screaming at us to take notice, stop ignoring the pain, and start to heal.
"The pain that we feel is not only from the past, but from a past-driven present." We need to recognize that the past is a memory, an illusion. It can no longer hurt us, unless we cling to it and allow it to control and hurt us.
Recognizing that we were powerless as children, but now have the power to control our lives is a "turning point" and that we need have the patience with ourselves to learn the basic social skills necessary to navigate wholeheartedly in our family and society that we didn't have the opportunity to learn while we were in survival mode as children.
I love this one..."Recovery isn't changing who you are. It is letting go of who you are not." Releasing all of the fat, dumb, ugly, worthless lessons that were ingrained...and seeing the beauty and perfection of ourselves.
I will end with this one..."A turning point will come when you can identify a safe way to share the secret."...and healing follows. Find someone to share your secrets with...30% of girls and 15% of boys are sexually abused before they reach age 18...there are plenty of "Me Too" people out there...Trust and share.
"God is always present in the heart. Look within"
All excerpted from Claudia Black's book, Changing Course.
Love and Blessings,
Maggie
I am sure that you are busy with your grand babies so I will share tidbits from the book that I just read.
Changing Course: Healing from Loss, Abandonment, and Fear by Claudia Black, PhD.
Early in the course of my journey I came to realize that "there is another reality than the one that I live. I want it". I have read previously to want something always keeps it elusive...but to say that "I am" living a new reality, a different reality allows it to materialize.
I have learned to pray with the words "I am"...very powerful words historically as well as personally.
I would change this statement to, 'there is another reality than the one that I live. I am living it.'
"I am willing to take risks to have it."...the new reality...the wholehearted life that I seek requires that I step outside of my comfort zone to attain. I am ready to do that.
"If you have pain, you deserve to heal."
"If you have anger or guilt from your past, you deserve to heal"...who doesn't carry some pain, guilt and anger in their lives...physical, emotional, and/or spiritual. We all seek healing...Helig.
In addition, "If you are protecting yourself from past pain in ways that are causing you even more pain in the present you deserve to heal." All of the disease, mental and physical, that is a result of past abuse and neglect in our family and society makes this statement scream at us. Screaming at us to take notice, stop ignoring the pain, and start to heal.
"The pain that we feel is not only from the past, but from a past-driven present." We need to recognize that the past is a memory, an illusion. It can no longer hurt us, unless we cling to it and allow it to control and hurt us.
Recognizing that we were powerless as children, but now have the power to control our lives is a "turning point" and that we need have the patience with ourselves to learn the basic social skills necessary to navigate wholeheartedly in our family and society that we didn't have the opportunity to learn while we were in survival mode as children.
I love this one..."Recovery isn't changing who you are. It is letting go of who you are not." Releasing all of the fat, dumb, ugly, worthless lessons that were ingrained...and seeing the beauty and perfection of ourselves.
I will end with this one..."A turning point will come when you can identify a safe way to share the secret."...and healing follows. Find someone to share your secrets with...30% of girls and 15% of boys are sexually abused before they reach age 18...there are plenty of "Me Too" people out there...Trust and share.
"God is always present in the heart. Look within"
All excerpted from Claudia Black's book, Changing Course.
Love and Blessings,
Maggie
Friday, August 24, 2012
The Learning Curve
I am a vegetarian, I have been since Thanksgiving 2005.
I gave up eating meat a month or so before Thanksgiving but was able to purchase a free range, organic turkey and felt obligated to consume it on Thanksgiving...never again. I don't even think about eating meat. It seems foreign to me some how.
I read a book, May All Be Fed, by John Robbins that solidified my decision. He presented a strong case that if each human consuming a "western" diet was to decrease their meat consumption by 10% there would be fields enough to grow food for all of the starving people in our world. Well, I doubted that I could convince 9 others to change their ways so I gave it up entirely to contribute for 9 others. He pointed out that it takes 17 lbs of grain and 53 gallons of fresh water to produce 1 lb of beef...entirely inefficient process.
Not to mention all of the garbage that is given to animals raised for meat...
and the cruelty involved in the process.
Mad Cow's Disease resulted from making cows cannibals...
they were being fed remains of other cows for additional protein...
even without the viral like particle causing that disease the thought of eating one of your own would make you "mad".
Sorry...I am a little passionate about our food sources and meat/dairy industry as well as agribusiness make me frustrated and angry. My students get an earful when I get started on this topic.
So where were we?
Violence...I do agree with your insight that what happened in our young life is a microcosm of what is happening in our world.
I am starting to serve on a board of directors for the county domestic violence shelter and was at orientation Wed.
We sat and talked about the issue of domestic violence...and kept coming back to 2 things...
first all of the services offered deal with the symptoms of the problems, not the source...
and second it all comes down to respect.
The Quakers have a profound statement that, if followed, could change the world...
"there is that of God in all beings"...
Imagine a world and society based on respect...not like...not passion...not even love...
but respect...treating others as if you were face to face with the Divine...Imagine.
But, we know that children are groomed and taught very early in life to accept abuse, abandonment, inappropriate behaviors and to expect that is what they deserve and how they should behave when they are grown.
So it all has to start with parenting...helping parents to see clearly the miracle that they have been entrusted with. We can learn alot from our children if we just give them voice and opportunity to express themselves and their ideas.
I once wrote a song...or channeled a song...called The Learning Curve...
I haven't done anything with it yet...because of a weird fear...
I felt it was too forward thinking because it states the "God is learning too"...
my Catholic upbringing made me afraid to be so blasphemous.
Any way it talks about learning from our children...I will share it with you...
The Learning Curve
In the beginning, there was the Father, and in his likeness we were made.
Soon was frustrated by our willful, weak and impulsive ways.
He sent fires, plagues and warnings, He sent a 40 days rain.
Despite man's evil, God was able to save a blessed few...
And the rainbow holds a message...God is learning too.
There are children, from the Father, who come to life with special gifts.
They have wisdom, they have purpose, entrusted to our loving care.
Please don't label their behavior by disease or syndrome name,
They are different, they are special, they come to earth to channel Grace.
And the rainbow holds a message...We are learning too.
And as our Father learned to be patient and give mankind another chance.
We must also give these children a haven to grow and advance.
They need guidance, they need boundaries, they need respect and loving care.
"Whatsoever you do for my least ones, that you also do for me".
And the rainbow holds a message...We're all learning too.
The world is changing every second, and if we raise these children right.
They'll be leading a better world, a peaceful place for all of us.
It's a journey undertaken, to raise these children to the Light.
With God's graces and assistance we will have a better end.
And the rainbow holds a message...the world's still learning too.
This song came to me when I was struggling with my children's inability to "fit" into traditional school and didn't know if I should force them to conform to traditional school or learn to accept and embrace to their uniqueness.
God does work in wonderful ways...
the message was clear to me...
respect them for who their are...
they are not mine to break...
I have them for just a brief time to protect and nuture and allow them to grow and develop as they will.
The inherent wisdom is within them...
as it was within us...
but we were broken like a wild horse...using all means of leather, spurs, ropes and saddles...
instead of being gently led into adulthood.
I am crying for the loss as I type this...
I wish our parents could have seen the beauty and miraculous energy that surrounded them for all of those years...
but, from my perspective, all they saw was burden...instead of Grace and Divine Gift...
We were/are so much more than burden...
You, Clare, and I (and all humans) are images of the Divine...
beauty, grace, perfection...
That is enough for any incarnation.
I Love You,
Maggie
I gave up eating meat a month or so before Thanksgiving but was able to purchase a free range, organic turkey and felt obligated to consume it on Thanksgiving...never again. I don't even think about eating meat. It seems foreign to me some how.
I read a book, May All Be Fed, by John Robbins that solidified my decision. He presented a strong case that if each human consuming a "western" diet was to decrease their meat consumption by 10% there would be fields enough to grow food for all of the starving people in our world. Well, I doubted that I could convince 9 others to change their ways so I gave it up entirely to contribute for 9 others. He pointed out that it takes 17 lbs of grain and 53 gallons of fresh water to produce 1 lb of beef...entirely inefficient process.
Not to mention all of the garbage that is given to animals raised for meat...
and the cruelty involved in the process.
Mad Cow's Disease resulted from making cows cannibals...
they were being fed remains of other cows for additional protein...
even without the viral like particle causing that disease the thought of eating one of your own would make you "mad".
Sorry...I am a little passionate about our food sources and meat/dairy industry as well as agribusiness make me frustrated and angry. My students get an earful when I get started on this topic.
So where were we?
Violence...I do agree with your insight that what happened in our young life is a microcosm of what is happening in our world.
I am starting to serve on a board of directors for the county domestic violence shelter and was at orientation Wed.
We sat and talked about the issue of domestic violence...and kept coming back to 2 things...
first all of the services offered deal with the symptoms of the problems, not the source...
and second it all comes down to respect.
The Quakers have a profound statement that, if followed, could change the world...
"there is that of God in all beings"...
Imagine a world and society based on respect...not like...not passion...not even love...
but respect...treating others as if you were face to face with the Divine...Imagine.
But, we know that children are groomed and taught very early in life to accept abuse, abandonment, inappropriate behaviors and to expect that is what they deserve and how they should behave when they are grown.
So it all has to start with parenting...helping parents to see clearly the miracle that they have been entrusted with. We can learn alot from our children if we just give them voice and opportunity to express themselves and their ideas.
I once wrote a song...or channeled a song...called The Learning Curve...
I haven't done anything with it yet...because of a weird fear...
I felt it was too forward thinking because it states the "God is learning too"...
my Catholic upbringing made me afraid to be so blasphemous.
Any way it talks about learning from our children...I will share it with you...
The Learning Curve
In the beginning, there was the Father, and in his likeness we were made.
Soon was frustrated by our willful, weak and impulsive ways.
He sent fires, plagues and warnings, He sent a 40 days rain.
Despite man's evil, God was able to save a blessed few...
And the rainbow holds a message...God is learning too.
There are children, from the Father, who come to life with special gifts.
They have wisdom, they have purpose, entrusted to our loving care.
Please don't label their behavior by disease or syndrome name,
They are different, they are special, they come to earth to channel Grace.
And the rainbow holds a message...We are learning too.
And as our Father learned to be patient and give mankind another chance.
We must also give these children a haven to grow and advance.
They need guidance, they need boundaries, they need respect and loving care.
"Whatsoever you do for my least ones, that you also do for me".
And the rainbow holds a message...We're all learning too.
The world is changing every second, and if we raise these children right.
They'll be leading a better world, a peaceful place for all of us.
It's a journey undertaken, to raise these children to the Light.
With God's graces and assistance we will have a better end.
And the rainbow holds a message...the world's still learning too.
This song came to me when I was struggling with my children's inability to "fit" into traditional school and didn't know if I should force them to conform to traditional school or learn to accept and embrace to their uniqueness.
God does work in wonderful ways...
the message was clear to me...
respect them for who their are...
they are not mine to break...
I have them for just a brief time to protect and nuture and allow them to grow and develop as they will.
The inherent wisdom is within them...
as it was within us...
but we were broken like a wild horse...using all means of leather, spurs, ropes and saddles...
instead of being gently led into adulthood.
I am crying for the loss as I type this...
I wish our parents could have seen the beauty and miraculous energy that surrounded them for all of those years...
but, from my perspective, all they saw was burden...instead of Grace and Divine Gift...
We were/are so much more than burden...
You, Clare, and I (and all humans) are images of the Divine...
beauty, grace, perfection...
That is enough for any incarnation.
I Love You,
Maggie
Microcosms
Good morning,
This little girl is teething. I didn't have much down time at all yesterday. She has learned to nap in my arms. And I love the solid little weight, the trust as she collapses completely against me. I only have a week left. I feel like I have been here forever, but I feel like I am in suspended animation because I am not at home. Strange feelings.
Your questions stay with me a lot. They have also been in my heart.
Why do we (humans) break the spirit that is divinely given?
Why do we feel that we can improve upon a spirit that is created in the image of the Divine?
Who are we to be so important?
Again, I wonder what happened to us. I saw a weird article earlier today. It speculated that there were strains of humans and some were vegan. Those died out during the ice ages when foods became scarce. The lines that survived lived near the shores and fed on flesh. There is something in me that does not want to eat meat, and that eats less and less all the time. I don't drink milk, and the dairy foods that I do use are some raw cheeses and way too much ice cream. Of course, that's more about chocolate than dairy. The only meat I eat is poultry. I was completely vegetarian for many years, but I started feeling cold all winter. I just couldn't get warm. So I trained myself to eat chicken and turkey, and I am warmer now. But every time I read about industrial agriculture, I get sick. The way humans treat animals makes me nauseous.
I was reading an essay by a woman who was defending meat eating. She started out by saying that Of course, it does involve sacrifice. But I want to know how we can sacrifice something that is not ours. The base belief of her philosophy is that we own the animals. We believe we own the land, the seeds, our children, and with recent developments, it is becoming very obvious that underneath it all, we believe that men are in charge and that they also own the women.
Something had to break the human spirit to allow this whole belief system to be okay. Did you know it was becoming a crime to feed the homeless and the hungry in many cities? What happened to the human spirit? We could start a protest. Everyone should carry an extra sandwich in case they meat someone who is hungry. We should make compassion common, and we should make the greedy grasp the wealthy men have on their wealth a sin and a crime. I would love to do a photo essay of wealthy people eating next to poor people eating, or not. The First Nation people said the leader is the first to give. That would be a good tag line.
I had a psychic experience while here. I had a moment where I could hear the souls of the people weeping for what is being done to the land. I asked what I need to do. Partly it is this. Being openly vulnerable, trying to understand what happened. What happened to us is an understandable microcosm of what is happening to the Earth. We shine the Light on us, and the Light shines on the larger and smaller versions of the same story. The differences in size, the Light shining - it was a beautiful image.
But I have been trying to analyze violence for years. And I have to write about it. Maybe here, maybe in another venue. I am waiting for way to open.
I appreciated reading about your evolution. I think a big moment for me was finding Friends. The woman who insisted I go to Al-Anon was a Quaker mama!!
Swallowing pride... Your post led me to really think about this phrase. Why swallow it? Upon swallowing we can digest it and it becomes part of us. A student proposed that the body is really a transformation factory. Perhaps this happens on the emotional level also! So, pride transformed becomes...what do you think? And is pride good or bad? I think it is good, until we use it to stiffen ourselves so much that we can't accept anything. I will be thinking about this!!
Time for me to get back to work. Then everyone will be up and off to another busy day...
I love you, have a sweet day!!
Clare
This little girl is teething. I didn't have much down time at all yesterday. She has learned to nap in my arms. And I love the solid little weight, the trust as she collapses completely against me. I only have a week left. I feel like I have been here forever, but I feel like I am in suspended animation because I am not at home. Strange feelings.
Your questions stay with me a lot. They have also been in my heart.
Why do we (humans) break the spirit that is divinely given?
Why do we feel that we can improve upon a spirit that is created in the image of the Divine?
Who are we to be so important?
Again, I wonder what happened to us. I saw a weird article earlier today. It speculated that there were strains of humans and some were vegan. Those died out during the ice ages when foods became scarce. The lines that survived lived near the shores and fed on flesh. There is something in me that does not want to eat meat, and that eats less and less all the time. I don't drink milk, and the dairy foods that I do use are some raw cheeses and way too much ice cream. Of course, that's more about chocolate than dairy. The only meat I eat is poultry. I was completely vegetarian for many years, but I started feeling cold all winter. I just couldn't get warm. So I trained myself to eat chicken and turkey, and I am warmer now. But every time I read about industrial agriculture, I get sick. The way humans treat animals makes me nauseous.
I was reading an essay by a woman who was defending meat eating. She started out by saying that Of course, it does involve sacrifice. But I want to know how we can sacrifice something that is not ours. The base belief of her philosophy is that we own the animals. We believe we own the land, the seeds, our children, and with recent developments, it is becoming very obvious that underneath it all, we believe that men are in charge and that they also own the women.
Something had to break the human spirit to allow this whole belief system to be okay. Did you know it was becoming a crime to feed the homeless and the hungry in many cities? What happened to the human spirit? We could start a protest. Everyone should carry an extra sandwich in case they meat someone who is hungry. We should make compassion common, and we should make the greedy grasp the wealthy men have on their wealth a sin and a crime. I would love to do a photo essay of wealthy people eating next to poor people eating, or not. The First Nation people said the leader is the first to give. That would be a good tag line.
I had a psychic experience while here. I had a moment where I could hear the souls of the people weeping for what is being done to the land. I asked what I need to do. Partly it is this. Being openly vulnerable, trying to understand what happened. What happened to us is an understandable microcosm of what is happening to the Earth. We shine the Light on us, and the Light shines on the larger and smaller versions of the same story. The differences in size, the Light shining - it was a beautiful image.
But I have been trying to analyze violence for years. And I have to write about it. Maybe here, maybe in another venue. I am waiting for way to open.
I appreciated reading about your evolution. I think a big moment for me was finding Friends. The woman who insisted I go to Al-Anon was a Quaker mama!!
Swallowing pride... Your post led me to really think about this phrase. Why swallow it? Upon swallowing we can digest it and it becomes part of us. A student proposed that the body is really a transformation factory. Perhaps this happens on the emotional level also! So, pride transformed becomes...what do you think? And is pride good or bad? I think it is good, until we use it to stiffen ourselves so much that we can't accept anything. I will be thinking about this!!
Time for me to get back to work. Then everyone will be up and off to another busy day...
I love you, have a sweet day!!
Clare
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Broken Spirit...no more
SuperMom, thanks for showing up...
I have read that experiment before and it broke my heart...and it did again reading it on your post.
I do feel as if we were confused and broken as children and in turn gave up.
Why do we (humans) break the spirit that is divinely given?
Why do we feel that we can improve upon a spirit that is created in the image of the Divine?
Who are we to be so important?
I think that I woke up to this very issue several years ago...
and that started this amazingly difficult transformation and healing.
I was rereading my journal this morning and read over and over again how living a life of pretense and always giving myself to others was killing me.
I could see the subtle openings that allowed me to gain the courage to say "enough".
God, what a journey...
allowing myself to feel the overwhelming sadness that encompassed my soul...
to drive the separation of my family...
to experience relationships that taught me much about love...
overburdening myself to keep from thinking...
realizing that the demons that I was fighting were in the past...
and really could not hurt me today...
swallowing my pride and asking for another chance at marriage...
swallowing my pride and asking for help from a therapist...
accepting a diagnosis of depression and actually taking medication...
gathering the courage to publicly disclose my/our abuse...
dismantling all of the family secrets that I remembered and releasing their hold on my spirit...
publicly sharing memories and feelings with you on this blog...
allowing myself to grieve and cry...
breaking the strings that tied me down...
reconnecting with you, my sister...
and, most importantly, reconnecting with the part(s) of myself, hidden away for safe keeping in order to survive the years of abuse and neglect. This one is still a work in progress.
I do believe that we manifest different roles, simultaneously...but sometimes one, more than another.
But, when we are in throes of chaos, we revert to the one that works best for us.
We can't truly compartmentalize ourselves...fortunately we are much too complex to do that...
but, when our spirits are broken we also cannot move fluently from one role to another...
we do compartmentalize our feelings and react in a way that we have been conditioned to...
what has given us the best outcome in the past.
It's the chameleon response...
rather than just always being visible...in all of our true colors.
Love and Blessings,
Maggie
I have read that experiment before and it broke my heart...and it did again reading it on your post.
I do feel as if we were confused and broken as children and in turn gave up.
Why do we (humans) break the spirit that is divinely given?
Why do we feel that we can improve upon a spirit that is created in the image of the Divine?
Who are we to be so important?
I think that I woke up to this very issue several years ago...
and that started this amazingly difficult transformation and healing.
I was rereading my journal this morning and read over and over again how living a life of pretense and always giving myself to others was killing me.
I could see the subtle openings that allowed me to gain the courage to say "enough".
God, what a journey...
allowing myself to feel the overwhelming sadness that encompassed my soul...
to drive the separation of my family...
to experience relationships that taught me much about love...
overburdening myself to keep from thinking...
realizing that the demons that I was fighting were in the past...
and really could not hurt me today...
swallowing my pride and asking for another chance at marriage...
swallowing my pride and asking for help from a therapist...
accepting a diagnosis of depression and actually taking medication...
gathering the courage to publicly disclose my/our abuse...
dismantling all of the family secrets that I remembered and releasing their hold on my spirit...
publicly sharing memories and feelings with you on this blog...
allowing myself to grieve and cry...
breaking the strings that tied me down...
reconnecting with you, my sister...
and, most importantly, reconnecting with the part(s) of myself, hidden away for safe keeping in order to survive the years of abuse and neglect. This one is still a work in progress.
I do believe that we manifest different roles, simultaneously...but sometimes one, more than another.
But, when we are in throes of chaos, we revert to the one that works best for us.
We can't truly compartmentalize ourselves...fortunately we are much too complex to do that...
but, when our spirits are broken we also cannot move fluently from one role to another...
we do compartmentalize our feelings and react in a way that we have been conditioned to...
what has given us the best outcome in the past.
It's the chameleon response...
rather than just always being visible...in all of our true colors.
Love and Blessings,
Maggie
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
evolution of a martyr
I love it when the universe provides immediately. You mentioned negotiating through the family in your first post, then had the answer in the second post. Nice!
The roles you listed are thought provoking. I don't think I am just one. I don't know why. It seems logical that as the oldest of the brood, I should be the absolutely responsible one. And I am. I seldom relax. I always have my list of things I must do before I allow myself to do the pleasurable things I would really like to do. And as a result, I rarely do the relaxing things. And if someone interrupts with a request, I will stop whatever I am doing, and help. This is both good and bad. But I see myself more in the placater. Maybe that's evolution, because I know that in our family of origin, I am the bossy one - is that responsible? I was sick once, and Mom and Dad were at my house. I was trying to tell Mom what the kids expected, to describe our routine. I heard Dad ask what I wanted, and Mom said, "Oh, she's just being bossy again." Made me feel ashamed of needing their help.
I do think I am a bizarre blend of can't listen/extremely opinionated with empathic listener who would give all the time in the world to someone. Maybe that is part of the schizophrenic way we were raised. Looking back, being good and cute and funny one day, then being a hated burden the next - Dad's reactions to the exact same behaviors - may have been the most destructive part of our daily life. And unfortunately, I repeated the pattern. I lost it with my kids and they couldn't understand or control it.
I don't act out. I have never acted out. I wish I was that kid...I think!
Our reading seems to be complementary. Last night I read about an experiment where dogs were shocked if standing on the right side of their kennel. They learned to stand on the left. When the shock was moved to the left, they switched sides. But when all of the floor delivered random shocks, the dogs submitted and endured. When the doors were opened, they did not escape. They suffered. I feel like this explains us.
It explains why we allowed Dad to bully family friends and family members. It explains why we don't live the vibrant life we are capable of, worthy of, entitled to. This experiment describes the evolution of the martyr. Unfortunately the violence in our culture is so pervasive it is invisible. We just accept thjat this is the way thing are. Even more, we think that other people in the world dream of being like us. We are delusional.
Not only did I endure this experiment and end up properly conditioned, I subjected my beloved children to the same. And the pattern continues...
(Typed one handed with a stuffy baby sleeping on my shoulder. Supermom lives!!!!)
The roles you listed are thought provoking. I don't think I am just one. I don't know why. It seems logical that as the oldest of the brood, I should be the absolutely responsible one. And I am. I seldom relax. I always have my list of things I must do before I allow myself to do the pleasurable things I would really like to do. And as a result, I rarely do the relaxing things. And if someone interrupts with a request, I will stop whatever I am doing, and help. This is both good and bad. But I see myself more in the placater. Maybe that's evolution, because I know that in our family of origin, I am the bossy one - is that responsible? I was sick once, and Mom and Dad were at my house. I was trying to tell Mom what the kids expected, to describe our routine. I heard Dad ask what I wanted, and Mom said, "Oh, she's just being bossy again." Made me feel ashamed of needing their help.
I do think I am a bizarre blend of can't listen/extremely opinionated with empathic listener who would give all the time in the world to someone. Maybe that is part of the schizophrenic way we were raised. Looking back, being good and cute and funny one day, then being a hated burden the next - Dad's reactions to the exact same behaviors - may have been the most destructive part of our daily life. And unfortunately, I repeated the pattern. I lost it with my kids and they couldn't understand or control it.
I don't act out. I have never acted out. I wish I was that kid...I think!
Our reading seems to be complementary. Last night I read about an experiment where dogs were shocked if standing on the right side of their kennel. They learned to stand on the left. When the shock was moved to the left, they switched sides. But when all of the floor delivered random shocks, the dogs submitted and endured. When the doors were opened, they did not escape. They suffered. I feel like this explains us.
It explains why we allowed Dad to bully family friends and family members. It explains why we don't live the vibrant life we are capable of, worthy of, entitled to. This experiment describes the evolution of the martyr. Unfortunately the violence in our culture is so pervasive it is invisible. We just accept thjat this is the way thing are. Even more, we think that other people in the world dream of being like us. We are delusional.
Not only did I endure this experiment and end up properly conditioned, I subjected my beloved children to the same. And the pattern continues...
(Typed one handed with a stuffy baby sleeping on my shoulder. Supermom lives!!!!)
The roles we play
I will post again...
an interesting and pertinent observation from the book that I am reading, Changing Course: Healing from Abandonment, Loss and Fear by Claudia Black.
She talks about the roles that people assume when growing up in a dysfunctional home.
They are the Responsible child, the Adjuster, the Placater, and the Acting Out Child.
Each role has benefits and deficits...
The responsible child is organized and a good leader, a perfectionist, able to initiate activity, is goal oriented on a positive note...but is also unable to listen, to follow, to play, to relax, is inflexible, always needs to be right, and in control, fears making mistakes, and lacks spontaneity...
The adjuster is flexible, able to easily follow others, is easy going, not easily upset by negative situations, doesn't question...but is unable to initiate activity, afraid to make decisons, lacks direction and cannot see options.
The placater is caring, empathic, a good listener, is sensitive to others, is warm and gives of themselves to others...but is unable to receive caring from others, unable to focus on themself, is afraid of anger, and tolerates inappropriate behavior.
The acting out child experiences their feelings, has a degree of honesty and less denial than others, is creative with a sense of humor and can lead others (in the wrong direction)...but inappropriately expresses anger cannot follow directions, is intrusive, and experiences social troubles due to inappropriate behaviors.
So I am thinking about these in context to myself...I am definately the responsible child. I was thinking about the rest of our family and can see each sibling falling into these catagories. I will not share my opinions, because we originally decided that this was about us and we would talk about ourselves.
I think that what I find most interesting and freeing in all of this is that although we are not normal...we are in no way unique.
I always wondered and worried that there was no one else in the world who could understand and identify with my life experiences and now I see that I have coped and reacted in ways that are quite universal, expected, accepted.
That makes me feel more acceptable, the Me Too experience.
But, being one of many is so incredibly sad...if these patterns are so well established and recognized, why does it continue to happen?
Does it serve a purpose in the grand scheme of humanity?
Or is it that we humans are too stupid to see the elephant in the room?
Last night this book also started talking about how to negotiate within a dysfunctional family once you have started the road to healing and recovery. It was what I needed to read at the right time...thank you universe. The jist of it was that we can interact as long as we know and set the boundaries...timing and length of the visit, subjects discussed, etc. It gave me more to think about.
Just thinking again...
Love and Light,
Maggie
an interesting and pertinent observation from the book that I am reading, Changing Course: Healing from Abandonment, Loss and Fear by Claudia Black.
She talks about the roles that people assume when growing up in a dysfunctional home.
They are the Responsible child, the Adjuster, the Placater, and the Acting Out Child.
Each role has benefits and deficits...
The responsible child is organized and a good leader, a perfectionist, able to initiate activity, is goal oriented on a positive note...but is also unable to listen, to follow, to play, to relax, is inflexible, always needs to be right, and in control, fears making mistakes, and lacks spontaneity...
The adjuster is flexible, able to easily follow others, is easy going, not easily upset by negative situations, doesn't question...but is unable to initiate activity, afraid to make decisons, lacks direction and cannot see options.
The placater is caring, empathic, a good listener, is sensitive to others, is warm and gives of themselves to others...but is unable to receive caring from others, unable to focus on themself, is afraid of anger, and tolerates inappropriate behavior.
The acting out child experiences their feelings, has a degree of honesty and less denial than others, is creative with a sense of humor and can lead others (in the wrong direction)...but inappropriately expresses anger cannot follow directions, is intrusive, and experiences social troubles due to inappropriate behaviors.
So I am thinking about these in context to myself...I am definately the responsible child. I was thinking about the rest of our family and can see each sibling falling into these catagories. I will not share my opinions, because we originally decided that this was about us and we would talk about ourselves.
I think that what I find most interesting and freeing in all of this is that although we are not normal...we are in no way unique.
I always wondered and worried that there was no one else in the world who could understand and identify with my life experiences and now I see that I have coped and reacted in ways that are quite universal, expected, accepted.
That makes me feel more acceptable, the Me Too experience.
But, being one of many is so incredibly sad...if these patterns are so well established and recognized, why does it continue to happen?
Does it serve a purpose in the grand scheme of humanity?
Or is it that we humans are too stupid to see the elephant in the room?
Last night this book also started talking about how to negotiate within a dysfunctional family once you have started the road to healing and recovery. It was what I needed to read at the right time...thank you universe. The jist of it was that we can interact as long as we know and set the boundaries...timing and length of the visit, subjects discussed, etc. It gave me more to think about.
Just thinking again...
Love and Light,
Maggie
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Peaceful time
Clare,
Sorry for checking in late...husband and I had an appointment together this morning and it threw off my regular schedule...
So the family doesn't have to be all or none...interesting insight...
but it scares the hell out of me to think of negoitating through it while being vulnerable.
I put on my best plastic face when I am with our family.
Everything in my life is perfect...I am completely in control...I need nothing from anyone...
That all has to stop...
I have to allow myself to be seen...
transparent...
and potentially rejected...
again.
I am in awe of your artist who felt safe enough to just be himself...
I really am afraid of family connection and maintaining my commitment to no more lies...
no more secrets...
no more plastic face...
I will trust that when the time is right I will have the courage that I need to act wholeheartedly.
I have sections of my book to share with you...but right now there is a cat sleeping on my lap and it feels so incredibly comfortable that I will wait to do that tomorrow. I am goin to enjoy the peace.
I love you,
Maggie
Sorry for checking in late...husband and I had an appointment together this morning and it threw off my regular schedule...
So the family doesn't have to be all or none...interesting insight...
but it scares the hell out of me to think of negoitating through it while being vulnerable.
I put on my best plastic face when I am with our family.
Everything in my life is perfect...I am completely in control...I need nothing from anyone...
That all has to stop...
I have to allow myself to be seen...
transparent...
and potentially rejected...
again.
I am in awe of your artist who felt safe enough to just be himself...
I really am afraid of family connection and maintaining my commitment to no more lies...
no more secrets...
no more plastic face...
I will trust that when the time is right I will have the courage that I need to act wholeheartedly.
I have sections of my book to share with you...but right now there is a cat sleeping on my lap and it feels so incredibly comfortable that I will wait to do that tomorrow. I am goin to enjoy the peace.
I love you,
Maggie
Presence
It's not really brave to walk out the door not caring what one looks like. It's a sign of being detached from self - of not really being there, of being out of body. I am trying to get back in my body where I belong. I want to pull me on like a long forgotten, very comfy pair of pajamas, and really feel like I am of the Earth.
Just an idea, but...Okay, so perhaps we don't pretend we are a close knit family. Perhaps we are simply meeting with a group of colleagues we work with on rare occasions. We say hi, see how everyone is, then get back to work I will have to think about this. Usually, when I am with family, I am withdrawn, feeling like the family loser who never quite gets it right. That probably relates to not being in my body, so I'm never quite all here! Obviously we can't have it all with our family, so why say All or None and lose it completely?
I love the idea of playing. I have been playing with my grandson who is delightfully imaginative. I do the same at home. We can turn anything into a game - when I have the little ones with me. How else would I like to play? I think I would like to play violin, but I have to get mine repaired. I will play with the word play today!
This weekend, my daughter-in-law and the baby and I took a walk in a beautiful park. When we came onto the grounds, we met a man who creates art from wood and stone. He had some pieces displayed, and had made a circle of mulch around it, creating a sort of altar. He was inviting people to write messages and place them in the sacred space.We stopped to read the notes and to talk to the artist. He had a gentle voice, and calm demeanor. He commented on the notes, and said he would like to sell a few of pieces, because he would like to take the display to other cities. His list of cities grew and included Budapest, then...He was absolutely vulnerable. But what I increasingly noticed was a pull. It seemed as if his heart was so complete and healthy, we could draw people into his calm. I started wondering if gravity is simply love.
So here was a modern day saint. He was being publicly vulnerable, showing his art, sharing his dreams with anyone who came to a public park on a summer afternoon. He drew people to a warm and comfortable, comforting place, then sent them, a little healthier, on their way into the world.
So how do I develop that presence. the deep, welcoming, loving presence? I guess, first I have to stop retiring and defining myself as the loser of the family...
So, you know I love you, right?????
Clarely Helwig and Wynnful
(The artist has saved every note in a lartge notebook. He is sure that when he gets to Budapest, or Turkey, the messages will be the same. Me, too!
My message: May we all become whole-hearted. He made me think my heart could be/would be healed or reasembled.)
Just an idea, but...Okay, so perhaps we don't pretend we are a close knit family. Perhaps we are simply meeting with a group of colleagues we work with on rare occasions. We say hi, see how everyone is, then get back to work I will have to think about this. Usually, when I am with family, I am withdrawn, feeling like the family loser who never quite gets it right. That probably relates to not being in my body, so I'm never quite all here! Obviously we can't have it all with our family, so why say All or None and lose it completely?
I love the idea of playing. I have been playing with my grandson who is delightfully imaginative. I do the same at home. We can turn anything into a game - when I have the little ones with me. How else would I like to play? I think I would like to play violin, but I have to get mine repaired. I will play with the word play today!
This weekend, my daughter-in-law and the baby and I took a walk in a beautiful park. When we came onto the grounds, we met a man who creates art from wood and stone. He had some pieces displayed, and had made a circle of mulch around it, creating a sort of altar. He was inviting people to write messages and place them in the sacred space.We stopped to read the notes and to talk to the artist. He had a gentle voice, and calm demeanor. He commented on the notes, and said he would like to sell a few of pieces, because he would like to take the display to other cities. His list of cities grew and included Budapest, then...He was absolutely vulnerable. But what I increasingly noticed was a pull. It seemed as if his heart was so complete and healthy, we could draw people into his calm. I started wondering if gravity is simply love.
So here was a modern day saint. He was being publicly vulnerable, showing his art, sharing his dreams with anyone who came to a public park on a summer afternoon. He drew people to a warm and comfortable, comforting place, then sent them, a little healthier, on their way into the world.
So how do I develop that presence. the deep, welcoming, loving presence? I guess, first I have to stop retiring and defining myself as the loser of the family...
So, you know I love you, right?????
Clarely Helwig and Wynnful
(The artist has saved every note in a lartge notebook. He is sure that when he gets to Budapest, or Turkey, the messages will be the same. Me, too!
My message: May we all become whole-hearted. He made me think my heart could be/would be healed or reasembled.)
Monday, August 20, 2012
Time to Play
You are correct...No one, or shall I say no being is expendable.
We walked yesterday...
and I was sharing the readings I've been doing with husband.
He is reading a book about Adult Children of Alcoholics and is saddened by the recollections in the book...and I can match them one for one...
not that it's a competition...it just is the way our lives were.
I told him about the abuse/abandonment insights and he couldn't believe the stories about the way our pets were treated and disposed of. I said to him...I can't believe that we disposed of Tinea instead of neutering her...the responsible thing to do.
Now, I keep animals no one else wants...
when I am face to face with a person asking me to care for an unwanted animal I say yes...immediately.
I have always loved the unloved.
I have wanted to care for beings who could offer me nothing besides their love...
their gratitude...their acceptance.
The mirror musings are interesting.
I have mirrors and feel as if I am too wrapped up in my outward appearance.
I don't wear alot of makeup...but I want my hair and face to look nice.
I noticed that in my recent pictures I have developed small wrinkles around my eyes...
I had to laugh because my near vision has deteriorated so that I can't see them without my glasses on...and I don't use my glasses when I look into the mirror.
Why does this bother me?
I am not sure, I know that I am 50.
I know that I am aging normally.
But I think that change is hard, no matter what kind of change we go through.
I can't imagine how freeing it must be to not care what the mirror says...to walk out of the door without scrutinizing my face, my figure, all of it. I think that it shows a great deal of confidence on your part.
I also believe that you do alot of self inquiry and self exploration...
who needs the superficial when you can go deep.
I had a short conversation with Mom and Dad this morning...
She gathered the courage to ask me "how are you doing...you know with all of the emotional things?"
At least she tried...
I really can't figure out what relationship I want with the parents or any of the siblings at this point.
I know that I can't go back to occasional gatherings...
pretending to be a close knit family...
but am I ready to say to hell with it?
Is there a happy medium?
How do I negotiate that?
I can't even decide if I want to negotiate that.
Life isn't any less without their contact...it isn't really any different...they didn't reach out before...
except part of me knows the silence is discomfort instead of the usual complacency.
I mentioned my "reconnect" meditation message to my wise friend...
she felt it was time for me to reconnect with myself...
with that little girl locked away inside...because she knew and felt too much.
Her advice was to play...
to start to enjoy life and take it a little less seriously...
I will try.
Thanks for being my family...
Maggie
We walked yesterday...
and I was sharing the readings I've been doing with husband.
He is reading a book about Adult Children of Alcoholics and is saddened by the recollections in the book...and I can match them one for one...
not that it's a competition...it just is the way our lives were.
I told him about the abuse/abandonment insights and he couldn't believe the stories about the way our pets were treated and disposed of. I said to him...I can't believe that we disposed of Tinea instead of neutering her...the responsible thing to do.
Now, I keep animals no one else wants...
when I am face to face with a person asking me to care for an unwanted animal I say yes...immediately.
I have always loved the unloved.
I have wanted to care for beings who could offer me nothing besides their love...
their gratitude...their acceptance.
The mirror musings are interesting.
I have mirrors and feel as if I am too wrapped up in my outward appearance.
I don't wear alot of makeup...but I want my hair and face to look nice.
I noticed that in my recent pictures I have developed small wrinkles around my eyes...
I had to laugh because my near vision has deteriorated so that I can't see them without my glasses on...and I don't use my glasses when I look into the mirror.
Why does this bother me?
I am not sure, I know that I am 50.
I know that I am aging normally.
But I think that change is hard, no matter what kind of change we go through.
I can't imagine how freeing it must be to not care what the mirror says...to walk out of the door without scrutinizing my face, my figure, all of it. I think that it shows a great deal of confidence on your part.
I also believe that you do alot of self inquiry and self exploration...
who needs the superficial when you can go deep.
I had a short conversation with Mom and Dad this morning...
She gathered the courage to ask me "how are you doing...you know with all of the emotional things?"
At least she tried...
I really can't figure out what relationship I want with the parents or any of the siblings at this point.
I know that I can't go back to occasional gatherings...
pretending to be a close knit family...
but am I ready to say to hell with it?
Is there a happy medium?
How do I negotiate that?
I can't even decide if I want to negotiate that.
Life isn't any less without their contact...it isn't really any different...they didn't reach out before...
except part of me knows the silence is discomfort instead of the usual complacency.
I mentioned my "reconnect" meditation message to my wise friend...
she felt it was time for me to reconnect with myself...
with that little girl locked away inside...because she knew and felt too much.
Her advice was to play...
to start to enjoy life and take it a little less seriously...
I will try.
Thanks for being my family...
Maggie
We are not expendable.
I had not thought about Champ for years. I used to climb in the doghouse with him and cuddle when we first got him. He lived out back in a fenced kennel. We never walked him. Then when we moved to base, he just ran free. He was never allowed in the house. Our family was terrible with taking care of pets. I think when we moved away from F-burg, we just left our two old tom-cats there. I can't remember anything else about them. And I think my heart broke just a little more when I learned that Dad asked our then brother-in-law to shoot the little dog they had had for so many years. Our parents never had the dog neutered and were annoyed because he kept running away when the neighborhood girls went into heat. I think maybe that sense that we were all dispensable when annoying or too much work has been an underlying fear in my life. One of my themes with environmental activism and social activism, also, is: We are not expendable.
I am interested in the book you have just started. Keep sharing, please.
I don't have many mirrors at home. There are the two in the bathrooms, and a narrow full length one in the spare bedroom. If I want to look at myself, I have to go out of my way. And, I rarely look at myself. Here, there are many mirrors. At the same time I have been reading the chapter about body image. The lack of mirrors may indicate a lack of self reflection. And this could be a chicken or the egg situation - do I not know what I look like because I never see myself, or do I never bother to see myself because I don't know what I look like, or that I have a presence?
I read the words in the book praising all body types, sharing the strength of old women, luscious body types, tall, thin, etc.as opposed to our cultural images of the maiden, only - mothers and crones are invisible and of little value. Logically, I agree that all body types are beautiful. If we are here, and we can feel, it's good...hmmmm...maybe my lack of feeling ties to all of this. I am learning more and more that logic and intellect are not enough to be human and humane. Not for any kind of learning. We are wired for experiential learning. We have to feel, to have an associated emotional breakthrough or explosion of some sort to truly learn something.
So anyway, I have been looking at myself a lot. I rock the baby in front of a mirror so she can see herself. I see the planes on my face - both the maiden and the crone. The maiden is disappearing into the crone. I change clothes and there is another mirror. I se my legs for the first time. At first I didn't want to see, but now it doesn't bother me. They are becoming mine. I feel them more as I climb hills around here. The mirrors are making me think more. Again, I wonder how much that is an external reflection stimulating internal reflection.
Rereading and thinking about Champie. We never seemed to know he was alive. He was just a possession. Dogs are incredibly social, and we isolated him. We thought daily food and water was enough. For some reason this feeling is pouring through me...I mean, I know. I treat my dogs like members of the family, or members of the pack. Poor Champ and his short, lonely life. I know he ran away a lot when we moved to town. Imagine that - we do not allow an untrained dog in the house and expect it to stay in the yard and be obedient. So he went to the farm. What did Dad do with all those animals he took to the farm?
Time for work...Love you...have a smiley day!!
I am interested in the book you have just started. Keep sharing, please.
I don't have many mirrors at home. There are the two in the bathrooms, and a narrow full length one in the spare bedroom. If I want to look at myself, I have to go out of my way. And, I rarely look at myself. Here, there are many mirrors. At the same time I have been reading the chapter about body image. The lack of mirrors may indicate a lack of self reflection. And this could be a chicken or the egg situation - do I not know what I look like because I never see myself, or do I never bother to see myself because I don't know what I look like, or that I have a presence?
I read the words in the book praising all body types, sharing the strength of old women, luscious body types, tall, thin, etc.as opposed to our cultural images of the maiden, only - mothers and crones are invisible and of little value. Logically, I agree that all body types are beautiful. If we are here, and we can feel, it's good...hmmmm...maybe my lack of feeling ties to all of this. I am learning more and more that logic and intellect are not enough to be human and humane. Not for any kind of learning. We are wired for experiential learning. We have to feel, to have an associated emotional breakthrough or explosion of some sort to truly learn something.
So anyway, I have been looking at myself a lot. I rock the baby in front of a mirror so she can see herself. I see the planes on my face - both the maiden and the crone. The maiden is disappearing into the crone. I change clothes and there is another mirror. I se my legs for the first time. At first I didn't want to see, but now it doesn't bother me. They are becoming mine. I feel them more as I climb hills around here. The mirrors are making me think more. Again, I wonder how much that is an external reflection stimulating internal reflection.
Rereading and thinking about Champie. We never seemed to know he was alive. He was just a possession. Dogs are incredibly social, and we isolated him. We thought daily food and water was enough. For some reason this feeling is pouring through me...I mean, I know. I treat my dogs like members of the family, or members of the pack. Poor Champ and his short, lonely life. I know he ran away a lot when we moved to town. Imagine that - we do not allow an untrained dog in the house and expect it to stay in the yard and be obedient. So he went to the farm. What did Dad do with all those animals he took to the farm?
Time for work...Love you...have a smiley day!!
Saturday, August 18, 2012
abuse on one side, abandonment on the other
To answer the direct question...yes, Dad tried to leave the hospital against medical advice.
He was recovering well after surgery and then had some complications. He wanted out.
I think that's why I was called...Sisters #4 and 5 were ready to leave and they needed reinforcements. After several days of my visit he again wanted out but had another issue to deal with.
(I will skip the details, but it pertained to "private parts")
They weren't going to discharge him, so he demanded to see the MD...got a PA instead...
Dad insisted that an RN and an MD could care for him at home...
well I spoke up and said that I was not willing to take on that responsibility...
and that if if he ended up back in the ER insurance would not cover it...
he stayed put a little longer.
I see it now that the Ugly Duckling is about poor parenting...
and you weren't the only one who felt like an alien in that house...
Despite trying to be good and fit in I always felt that I was barely tolerated.
Estes writes later about the lost zygote...
perhaps you, as a zygote, were meant to be delivered to the house around the corner and yet you landed in the wrong family...
much like the stork dropping an elephant baby in a mouse's nest...
anyway I always felt as if I was different in order to make a difference.
I started another book last night...it is about survivors of childhood abuse and neglect...and how to reclaim the lost pieces...
Any way the stories that she writes of could have been taken directly from my/our life.
It is eerie reading something so close to home.
For example, she writes about one parent psychologically abusing a child by taking away a loved pet and how the other parent who allows it is emotionally abandoning the child as well.
I, of course, grieved for Tinea, our cat...and Champ our dog...and the chickens...
I am learning alot and recognizing alot about my life in this book.
I am preparing for transitions...the girls go back to college...the boys to school...my teaching and classes begin again...life is going to get alot more hectic.
I want desperately to maintain this sense of calm that I have achieved over the past several weeks.
Maintain the peace...
That should be my mantra...
Au revoir...
Maggie
He was recovering well after surgery and then had some complications. He wanted out.
I think that's why I was called...Sisters #4 and 5 were ready to leave and they needed reinforcements. After several days of my visit he again wanted out but had another issue to deal with.
(I will skip the details, but it pertained to "private parts")
They weren't going to discharge him, so he demanded to see the MD...got a PA instead...
Dad insisted that an RN and an MD could care for him at home...
well I spoke up and said that I was not willing to take on that responsibility...
and that if if he ended up back in the ER insurance would not cover it...
he stayed put a little longer.
I see it now that the Ugly Duckling is about poor parenting...
and you weren't the only one who felt like an alien in that house...
Despite trying to be good and fit in I always felt that I was barely tolerated.
Estes writes later about the lost zygote...
perhaps you, as a zygote, were meant to be delivered to the house around the corner and yet you landed in the wrong family...
much like the stork dropping an elephant baby in a mouse's nest...
anyway I always felt as if I was different in order to make a difference.
I started another book last night...it is about survivors of childhood abuse and neglect...and how to reclaim the lost pieces...
Any way the stories that she writes of could have been taken directly from my/our life.
It is eerie reading something so close to home.
For example, she writes about one parent psychologically abusing a child by taking away a loved pet and how the other parent who allows it is emotionally abandoning the child as well.
I, of course, grieved for Tinea, our cat...and Champ our dog...and the chickens...
I am learning alot and recognizing alot about my life in this book.
I am preparing for transitions...the girls go back to college...the boys to school...my teaching and classes begin again...life is going to get alot more hectic.
I want desperately to maintain this sense of calm that I have achieved over the past several weeks.
Maintain the peace...
That should be my mantra...
Au revoir...
Maggie
in the middle of the night
Good very early morning,
I tried to set my schedule so that I could work a few morning hours. But I was confused about the time difference, and as a result, I started work at 1:00 am. It's now almost 4:00 am and I have a break. I don't think I have pulled an all-nighter since college...except when babies were teething. I feel exceptionally dumb today!!
I have been reading the chapters about the Ugly Duckling in Women Who Run with Wolves, so your mention of this was timely. I never considered that this story is as much about poor mothering as it is about being different. I have long felt that I was the Alien Seed in our family. And Mom has noted, many times, "We just don't know where we got you." Usually I was doing something weird, something very un-Delana! As proud as I have always been of my refusal to conform, it was lonely on the outside. And having Mom point it out made it a little lonelier. We weren't mothered as well as possible, which left us with insufficient mothering skills. It's been a twisted lot to think about.
Dad's words were mean. He was discharging his pain by causing pain in you. After witnessing the ways his parents spoke about and to each other, even in the presence of the rest of us, I have an idea of the hatred and resentment his parents, his father especially, expressed toward him. The best way to let go of the pressure of being resented was for him to make you feel unwelcomed and unloved. Your friend may try to stretch, to find the silver in there, but we know it was mean. And it never entered my mind that Dad would envision flying. The statement you remembered was suicidal. I can't fit it with his personality any other way.
Since I don't have a car, and I can't take leave from work I didn't go and help when Dad was in the hospital. I never imagined that he would welcome me anyway. I know I make him uncomfortable. Thank you for sharing the little vignette that showed his vulnerability. I do understand that they devalue themselves. That was an interesting reinterpretation. They have always held the power, so I never saw that. I don't quite follow that they love us more than they love themselves. You lost me! I sort of think we are all floundering, trying to discern if there is any love anywhere...
One question has lingered...B#4 wrote an account of Dad trying to walk out of the hospital at some point during that time. It was unauthorized and he had to be physically stopped. Mom brushed that off as a joke. Did it happen or not? I believed it did, based on family patterns!
They do know that none of their children visit willingly. I do know that Mom tries to find ways to reach out to us, and is grateful when we call. I wonder if they remember the words they said, and realize we are simply being obedient. We are out of their house and not expecting them to take any responsibility for us or our children.
I have been digging into the book you gave me. The latest chapter has been on body image, on loving and accepting ourselves no matter what we look like. I have been having the impression of angelic beings hiding behind human eyes, despite outward appearances lately. I have been wondering what I look like. One line in the book said that when parents are violent, the child's spirit moves away from the body. That is my experience of hovering near my body. And it leaves me wondering where my children are. I know they are not okay, and it's because of my parenting mistakes, as well as their father's. But with transparency and humility, I will strive to correct the damage I have done.
I am exhausted, and I have two more hours to go...Gonna walk a bit to prepare.
I love you!!
I tried to set my schedule so that I could work a few morning hours. But I was confused about the time difference, and as a result, I started work at 1:00 am. It's now almost 4:00 am and I have a break. I don't think I have pulled an all-nighter since college...except when babies were teething. I feel exceptionally dumb today!!
I have been reading the chapters about the Ugly Duckling in Women Who Run with Wolves, so your mention of this was timely. I never considered that this story is as much about poor mothering as it is about being different. I have long felt that I was the Alien Seed in our family. And Mom has noted, many times, "We just don't know where we got you." Usually I was doing something weird, something very un-Delana! As proud as I have always been of my refusal to conform, it was lonely on the outside. And having Mom point it out made it a little lonelier. We weren't mothered as well as possible, which left us with insufficient mothering skills. It's been a twisted lot to think about.
Dad's words were mean. He was discharging his pain by causing pain in you. After witnessing the ways his parents spoke about and to each other, even in the presence of the rest of us, I have an idea of the hatred and resentment his parents, his father especially, expressed toward him. The best way to let go of the pressure of being resented was for him to make you feel unwelcomed and unloved. Your friend may try to stretch, to find the silver in there, but we know it was mean. And it never entered my mind that Dad would envision flying. The statement you remembered was suicidal. I can't fit it with his personality any other way.
Since I don't have a car, and I can't take leave from work I didn't go and help when Dad was in the hospital. I never imagined that he would welcome me anyway. I know I make him uncomfortable. Thank you for sharing the little vignette that showed his vulnerability. I do understand that they devalue themselves. That was an interesting reinterpretation. They have always held the power, so I never saw that. I don't quite follow that they love us more than they love themselves. You lost me! I sort of think we are all floundering, trying to discern if there is any love anywhere...
One question has lingered...B#4 wrote an account of Dad trying to walk out of the hospital at some point during that time. It was unauthorized and he had to be physically stopped. Mom brushed that off as a joke. Did it happen or not? I believed it did, based on family patterns!
They do know that none of their children visit willingly. I do know that Mom tries to find ways to reach out to us, and is grateful when we call. I wonder if they remember the words they said, and realize we are simply being obedient. We are out of their house and not expecting them to take any responsibility for us or our children.
I have been digging into the book you gave me. The latest chapter has been on body image, on loving and accepting ourselves no matter what we look like. I have been having the impression of angelic beings hiding behind human eyes, despite outward appearances lately. I have been wondering what I look like. One line in the book said that when parents are violent, the child's spirit moves away from the body. That is my experience of hovering near my body. And it leaves me wondering where my children are. I know they are not okay, and it's because of my parenting mistakes, as well as their father's. But with transparency and humility, I will strive to correct the damage I have done.
I am exhausted, and I have two more hours to go...Gonna walk a bit to prepare.
I love you!!
Friday, August 17, 2012
Fear of flying?
We are off schedule...so I will jump in on a thought that I had about your last post.
I remember Dad spewing forth negative rants about our lack of worth, getting out of his house when we were 18, and so on.
The one that I remember most clearly though started after we moved in 1979, when it was just the "four little girls" at home.
He looked me in the eye and said, "If I didn't have you I'd be done by now."
Well the smart assed retort in my head was "you never even started" but of course I silently soaked that up, believing that I/we had indeed ruined his life and any chance of happiness or fulfillment.
I was talking about this with a wise friend several years ago and she countered with, "maybe he meant his life would be over without the four of you"...
well, of course, that was and is ridiculous to my level of understanding.
I wonder how many of his words were true and delivered with intention and how many were just a painful reflex from his own "domestication"?
Did he know better?
Did he ever attempt or even consider changing the abusiveness?
I feel great compassion for him, despite his lack of parenting skills (intentional understatement).
I believe that he tried to better than was done for and to him.
But he wielded such authority that no one was able to challenge his abusive nature and show him that it really didn't have to be that way. we all escaped, at 18, as ordered.
He didn't let anyone in, close enough to make a difference...I am picturing a little kid swinging a big stick.
He still keeps us at a distance...visits can last no more than 24 hours...and they are one meal after another...keeping busy so that there is no real conversation....then an early bedtime...
Maybe we (collectively) failed to help him recognize that there is another way...gentle...loving...respectful...kindness.
Several summers ago, after his surgery, I sat with him, for hours in his hospital room. He was anxious about being stuck in the hospital...for the second time in a month...but his conversation was more relaxed. He actually sincerely thanked me for being there...of course because I was a help to Mom... and told me that he loved me. It was a big moment in my life. He and Mom were surprised that their kids were willing to drop their home responsibilities and sit with them...why?
Why, because they wouldn't do the same for us?
The reason really doesn't matter...
the bottom line is that they devalue themselves more than they devalue each of us...
so, in a twisted way they love us more than they love themselves...
and that's what parents do.
It is interesting that when I mentioned his jumping from heights you thought suicide...
my interpretation of that was him jumping off and flying...
maybe he had similar flight dreams and was/is too afraid to see if he can fly.
I love you...
Blessings,
Maggie
I remember Dad spewing forth negative rants about our lack of worth, getting out of his house when we were 18, and so on.
The one that I remember most clearly though started after we moved in 1979, when it was just the "four little girls" at home.
He looked me in the eye and said, "If I didn't have you I'd be done by now."
Well the smart assed retort in my head was "you never even started" but of course I silently soaked that up, believing that I/we had indeed ruined his life and any chance of happiness or fulfillment.
I was talking about this with a wise friend several years ago and she countered with, "maybe he meant his life would be over without the four of you"...
well, of course, that was and is ridiculous to my level of understanding.
I wonder how many of his words were true and delivered with intention and how many were just a painful reflex from his own "domestication"?
Did he know better?
Did he ever attempt or even consider changing the abusiveness?
I feel great compassion for him, despite his lack of parenting skills (intentional understatement).
I believe that he tried to better than was done for and to him.
But he wielded such authority that no one was able to challenge his abusive nature and show him that it really didn't have to be that way. we all escaped, at 18, as ordered.
He didn't let anyone in, close enough to make a difference...I am picturing a little kid swinging a big stick.
He still keeps us at a distance...visits can last no more than 24 hours...and they are one meal after another...keeping busy so that there is no real conversation....then an early bedtime...
Maybe we (collectively) failed to help him recognize that there is another way...gentle...loving...respectful...kindness.
Several summers ago, after his surgery, I sat with him, for hours in his hospital room. He was anxious about being stuck in the hospital...for the second time in a month...but his conversation was more relaxed. He actually sincerely thanked me for being there...of course because I was a help to Mom... and told me that he loved me. It was a big moment in my life. He and Mom were surprised that their kids were willing to drop their home responsibilities and sit with them...why?
Why, because they wouldn't do the same for us?
The reason really doesn't matter...
the bottom line is that they devalue themselves more than they devalue each of us...
so, in a twisted way they love us more than they love themselves...
and that's what parents do.
It is interesting that when I mentioned his jumping from heights you thought suicide...
my interpretation of that was him jumping off and flying...
maybe he had similar flight dreams and was/is too afraid to see if he can fly.
I love you...
Blessings,
Maggie
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Relaxed energy
Clare,
Just knowing that you are willing to have that conversation with your son assures me that the opportunity to have happen. He will listen and he will understand what he is capable of hearing at this moment...it might be a conversation that needs to be ongoing...but taking the first step is opening for you.
I have often wondered what our parents could have said or done that would have assured us that we were loved and appreciated. But, as you said recently, we were condemned by the age of 5 to live a life of self doubt, self judgement, and secrets. If they had said nice things I wouldn't have believed them...the lessons were long ago branded into my brain...they were a part of my self image...at age 50 I am finally dismantling their hold on me. Realizing that I(we) was a swan instead of a duckling in the nest of ducks.
I have been wondering about resiliency again...why did I make the choices that I did...why was I able to see a clearer way out of the quagmire that we grew up in? Where did I find that compass that directed me to education and a professional life that placed me close to healers? Why did I marry a man who doesn't have the addictions that I grew to expect in a mate?
Grace is the only answer that I come up with...pure grace...thank you.
Paris was lovely.
It was as alive as New York or Philadelphia, but had a sense of relaxed energy and a respect for people, art and culture that I haven't experienced anywhere else.
Everywhere we walked there was art.
The doors of buildings are carved.
There are great double doors that open into courtyards that have stunning gardens.
The bridges had art and sculpture on the sides that isn't visible from the street.
At night there are thousands of people, couples and small groups, who sit along the river or on the grassy yards of the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre, drinking wine and dining al fresco.
No one was out of control. It was peaceful and happy.
We walked by Notre Dame on Sunday night about midnight and there was a great crowd around 4 men break dancing. All were clapping and laughing. We walked through organic markets, open air markets, by cathedrals on almost every block...always that same relaxed atmosphere...I need to learn to channel that sense of relaxation.
I will catch up with you tomorrow...
Maggie
Just knowing that you are willing to have that conversation with your son assures me that the opportunity to have happen. He will listen and he will understand what he is capable of hearing at this moment...it might be a conversation that needs to be ongoing...but taking the first step is opening for you.
I have often wondered what our parents could have said or done that would have assured us that we were loved and appreciated. But, as you said recently, we were condemned by the age of 5 to live a life of self doubt, self judgement, and secrets. If they had said nice things I wouldn't have believed them...the lessons were long ago branded into my brain...they were a part of my self image...at age 50 I am finally dismantling their hold on me. Realizing that I(we) was a swan instead of a duckling in the nest of ducks.
I have been wondering about resiliency again...why did I make the choices that I did...why was I able to see a clearer way out of the quagmire that we grew up in? Where did I find that compass that directed me to education and a professional life that placed me close to healers? Why did I marry a man who doesn't have the addictions that I grew to expect in a mate?
Grace is the only answer that I come up with...pure grace...thank you.
Paris was lovely.
It was as alive as New York or Philadelphia, but had a sense of relaxed energy and a respect for people, art and culture that I haven't experienced anywhere else.
Everywhere we walked there was art.
The doors of buildings are carved.
There are great double doors that open into courtyards that have stunning gardens.
The bridges had art and sculpture on the sides that isn't visible from the street.
At night there are thousands of people, couples and small groups, who sit along the river or on the grassy yards of the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre, drinking wine and dining al fresco.
No one was out of control. It was peaceful and happy.
We walked by Notre Dame on Sunday night about midnight and there was a great crowd around 4 men break dancing. All were clapping and laughing. We walked through organic markets, open air markets, by cathedrals on almost every block...always that same relaxed atmosphere...I need to learn to channel that sense of relaxation.
I will catch up with you tomorrow...
Maggie
What if...
When I am at home, I am on a regular schedule. While here, my schedule is unreliable. I will be posting as catch-can. I had a very early morning work session, and so I have some time in the quiet now to reflect on life. I am going to take advantage of it, even though it's not my turn!
I have been thinking about my anger and rages when my kids were young. I would be calm for a long period of time, then something would set me off and I would start yelling. I would yell about everything. I think now about how terrifying it must have been for my kids. Their safe mommy was this fireball to be avoided at all costs. But it was in their home, and there was no escape.
I know now I was discharging pain. They didn't know that, although logically, now, they all know it. But logic doesn't count in this situation. I am becoming more and more convinced that we store memories in various places in our beings, and logic does not connect.
So, when I was raging, what would have helped? What if someone would have intervened? What would I have wanted to hear? I know I would have been humiliated. And I don't think it would have helped. It would only have added to the pain. What can we say or do to be lovingly, acceptingly open and really make a difference. (Not sure if this is a rhetorical question or not...)
I have also been considering patterns. I married a man who was a polite version of our dad. The politeness seemed to make everything different. But what I got was someone distant, who could not connect, who was hiding in his addictions, who was a bit bigoted then increasingly nasty and mean as the alcohol pickled his brain. I understand now that I thought - if I could get this version of dad to love me, then I was loveable and worthy of being here. But that was a self-defeating attempt. Instead I fed his addictions, allowing him to flee deeper into oblivion and escape and I was never loved. The abandonment continued. Neither one of us benefited from the relationship...well, I did learn powerful lessons, which is the point of being here, I suppose.
So the next question becomes: What could dad have done or have said (or even: What could he do or say) to change my core belief? If he would have apologized and told me none of our problems were my fault (You damn kids, it's all your fault resounds in my brain.) would the damaged child cowering inside me believe him?
In this household it may be that my son married a version of his occasionally raging mother. If he can get this woman to love and accept him, then he proves he is lovable and worthy. But I know from experience this won't work. So, I have to find a time and place to apologize and share my understanding. But that will be logical...how do I access the child that I hurt so many years ago. Can I convince him that all of me loves him, all of the broken pieces that hurt him in the past. I love him.
I love them both so much. And they are both so good, but damaged by alcoholic violence. I just want to lead the way out of the pain...
I love you and I apologize for leaving nail prints in your leg...
Clare
Thinking back, maybe it's serendipity. Maybe we have to stay open and wait for inspiration from Spirit. My changing moment came through tears and a friend's insistence that I go to Al-Anon. She offered a Me, too, telling me she recognized her first marriage in mine. She just happened to call at the exact right time.
So my prayer is: Let me present at the right time. Lead me through love and wisdom. Let me be vulnerable.
I have been thinking about my anger and rages when my kids were young. I would be calm for a long period of time, then something would set me off and I would start yelling. I would yell about everything. I think now about how terrifying it must have been for my kids. Their safe mommy was this fireball to be avoided at all costs. But it was in their home, and there was no escape.
I know now I was discharging pain. They didn't know that, although logically, now, they all know it. But logic doesn't count in this situation. I am becoming more and more convinced that we store memories in various places in our beings, and logic does not connect.
So, when I was raging, what would have helped? What if someone would have intervened? What would I have wanted to hear? I know I would have been humiliated. And I don't think it would have helped. It would only have added to the pain. What can we say or do to be lovingly, acceptingly open and really make a difference. (Not sure if this is a rhetorical question or not...)
I have also been considering patterns. I married a man who was a polite version of our dad. The politeness seemed to make everything different. But what I got was someone distant, who could not connect, who was hiding in his addictions, who was a bit bigoted then increasingly nasty and mean as the alcohol pickled his brain. I understand now that I thought - if I could get this version of dad to love me, then I was loveable and worthy of being here. But that was a self-defeating attempt. Instead I fed his addictions, allowing him to flee deeper into oblivion and escape and I was never loved. The abandonment continued. Neither one of us benefited from the relationship...well, I did learn powerful lessons, which is the point of being here, I suppose.
So the next question becomes: What could dad have done or have said (or even: What could he do or say) to change my core belief? If he would have apologized and told me none of our problems were my fault (You damn kids, it's all your fault resounds in my brain.) would the damaged child cowering inside me believe him?
In this household it may be that my son married a version of his occasionally raging mother. If he can get this woman to love and accept him, then he proves he is lovable and worthy. But I know from experience this won't work. So, I have to find a time and place to apologize and share my understanding. But that will be logical...how do I access the child that I hurt so many years ago. Can I convince him that all of me loves him, all of the broken pieces that hurt him in the past. I love him.
I love them both so much. And they are both so good, but damaged by alcoholic violence. I just want to lead the way out of the pain...
I love you and I apologize for leaving nail prints in your leg...
Clare
Thinking back, maybe it's serendipity. Maybe we have to stay open and wait for inspiration from Spirit. My changing moment came through tears and a friend's insistence that I go to Al-Anon. She offered a Me, too, telling me she recognized her first marriage in mine. She just happened to call at the exact right time.
So my prayer is: Let me present at the right time. Lead me through love and wisdom. Let me be vulnerable.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Let's be altruists!
So nice to see you here again. Really anticipating hearing about Paris. I hope you fell in love with the city!
I never thought much about Mary and Martha. I think our grandma was the uncomplaining Martha...maybe never expecting more, maybe relieved not to be noticed, maybe desperately wishing to be noticed - but not knowing how. That thought takes me back to the baby...learning at an early age that our wishes won't be noticed much less answered. Maybe that's the worst of the damage caused by the Cry it out method of parenting.
I have Martha in me. I make lists of what must be done before I can do what I want to do and before I can relax. And if no one notices, I don't complain. But the martyr does creep into my soul, and I can be a little passive-aggressive. Passive-aggressive just wants love and attention; yet we are taught to ignore and vilify passive-aggressive.
One thing to remember is that we need Marthas if we're all going to have the freedom to sit and discuss great things. Someone has to be the support person. Either that or we all have to be Martha, so we can all be Mary. I suddenly had the feeling that Martha didn't trust that anyone else would do what she did. I have that feeling. I am the only one who can handle the details. Yet life has taught me that if I let things go, trust, at the last minute we all pitch in and get it done...loaves and fishes, I think!
Leads me to thoughts of Patch Adams - join the person who is suffering so they are not alone...
Jeanne D'Arc was a martyr, also. Was she a different kind of martyr? Are there good and bad forms of martyrdom? I am back to altruism. Perhaps we need to develop altruism rather than martyrdom, in any guise.
Your last post reminded me of another sort of violence. A friend asked me to take over her business for two years while she left the area. As a result I was working at the farmers market every weekend, which is a great place to people watch. I saw a lot of young families. I noticed the affluent families would come through with a plush stroller, lots of baby gear, the infant perched amid lots of colorful toys. The others were the young hippy families. Mom and Dad, maybe a diaper bag and the baby was being worn by one of the parents. Which child is richer? Which lifestyle do we esteem? The baby with less stuff and complete physical access to parents is by far the richest. Yet we strive to provide things. Working for those things takes us from our family...suddenly plastic means love. It is how we get trapped in this society...enslaved by this society. I try to list what we actually need. By American standards, I don't have much, but I definitely have too much. And I still don't feel loved!
There's a poverty of the soul created by consumerism, and we teach our children young!
When we were growing up we got hit both ways. Because we were a military family, and because of the abysmal way our government treats soldiers, we never had stuff. One of the mantras from our childhood, which I think is still a core belief is: We can't afford it. I believe the universe is abundant, but not for me...I need to find a way to rewrite that message. So we didn't have the parental contact to make us feel loved, and we didn't get the plastic substitutes either.
Strange trains of thought today - It's so nice to have you back!!
Your memory of Dad's words hit me hard. Think of the despair trapped inside his psyche. I wonder how many times he contemplated suicide. I wonder if he remembers or recognizes any happy moments in his life.
Love, love, love!!!
Clare
I never thought much about Mary and Martha. I think our grandma was the uncomplaining Martha...maybe never expecting more, maybe relieved not to be noticed, maybe desperately wishing to be noticed - but not knowing how. That thought takes me back to the baby...learning at an early age that our wishes won't be noticed much less answered. Maybe that's the worst of the damage caused by the Cry it out method of parenting.
I have Martha in me. I make lists of what must be done before I can do what I want to do and before I can relax. And if no one notices, I don't complain. But the martyr does creep into my soul, and I can be a little passive-aggressive. Passive-aggressive just wants love and attention; yet we are taught to ignore and vilify passive-aggressive.
One thing to remember is that we need Marthas if we're all going to have the freedom to sit and discuss great things. Someone has to be the support person. Either that or we all have to be Martha, so we can all be Mary. I suddenly had the feeling that Martha didn't trust that anyone else would do what she did. I have that feeling. I am the only one who can handle the details. Yet life has taught me that if I let things go, trust, at the last minute we all pitch in and get it done...loaves and fishes, I think!
Leads me to thoughts of Patch Adams - join the person who is suffering so they are not alone...
Jeanne D'Arc was a martyr, also. Was she a different kind of martyr? Are there good and bad forms of martyrdom? I am back to altruism. Perhaps we need to develop altruism rather than martyrdom, in any guise.
Your last post reminded me of another sort of violence. A friend asked me to take over her business for two years while she left the area. As a result I was working at the farmers market every weekend, which is a great place to people watch. I saw a lot of young families. I noticed the affluent families would come through with a plush stroller, lots of baby gear, the infant perched amid lots of colorful toys. The others were the young hippy families. Mom and Dad, maybe a diaper bag and the baby was being worn by one of the parents. Which child is richer? Which lifestyle do we esteem? The baby with less stuff and complete physical access to parents is by far the richest. Yet we strive to provide things. Working for those things takes us from our family...suddenly plastic means love. It is how we get trapped in this society...enslaved by this society. I try to list what we actually need. By American standards, I don't have much, but I definitely have too much. And I still don't feel loved!
There's a poverty of the soul created by consumerism, and we teach our children young!
When we were growing up we got hit both ways. Because we were a military family, and because of the abysmal way our government treats soldiers, we never had stuff. One of the mantras from our childhood, which I think is still a core belief is: We can't afford it. I believe the universe is abundant, but not for me...I need to find a way to rewrite that message. So we didn't have the parental contact to make us feel loved, and we didn't get the plastic substitutes either.
Strange trains of thought today - It's so nice to have you back!!
Your memory of Dad's words hit me hard. Think of the despair trapped inside his psyche. I wonder how many times he contemplated suicide. I wonder if he remembers or recognizes any happy moments in his life.
Love, love, love!!!
Clare
so long status quo...
Clare,
Violence is all around us...and yet we ignore it.
Back to Darwin's "survival of the fittest". But what criteria determines being the "fittest"? I would love to say that it is our intelligence and adaptability. But it seems to be determined by brute strength. The "fittest" overpowers until the other submits. But, in the long run it is about adaptability. It is the ability to be a chameleon and to blend rather than to stand out. To accept the status quo, rather than making unique choices and speaking up...
I refuse to settle for survival...
I demand more.
I seek to thrive...
and thriving means standing out, taking some risks, being seen...
no camouflage or chameleon blending.
Humans need to stop overpowering to gain control.
You see it with your Granddaughter...she will submit to the bottle when she is hungry enough.
We see it in our exploitation of the land and the people who inhabit it.
Slave labor producing the things we "can't live without"...
Destruction of the forests...destruction of our atmosphere...destruction of the home that we know.
Humans have lost their connection to all other things.
Most don't care...they continue to consume...and consume...and create wastes...
It starts when we are babies...
it starts in our teachings...our domestication...
we are worthless unless we overpower.
We were overpowered...by the abuse...by the dysfunction...by the alcoholism...by the secrets.
We were taught at a very young age that we were less powerful than our caretakers...
and we submitted. What else could we do?
At least our basic needs were being met...and as you have said...there are some good memories intermixed.
But, it is time to shine a Light on those beliefs, to recognize them for the bull shit that they are, and to say "no more"...
Time to learn love and patience and kindness.
It is a good time for life,
Maggie
Violence is all around us...and yet we ignore it.
Back to Darwin's "survival of the fittest". But what criteria determines being the "fittest"? I would love to say that it is our intelligence and adaptability. But it seems to be determined by brute strength. The "fittest" overpowers until the other submits. But, in the long run it is about adaptability. It is the ability to be a chameleon and to blend rather than to stand out. To accept the status quo, rather than making unique choices and speaking up...
I refuse to settle for survival...
I demand more.
I seek to thrive...
and thriving means standing out, taking some risks, being seen...
no camouflage or chameleon blending.
Humans need to stop overpowering to gain control.
You see it with your Granddaughter...she will submit to the bottle when she is hungry enough.
We see it in our exploitation of the land and the people who inhabit it.
Slave labor producing the things we "can't live without"...
Destruction of the forests...destruction of our atmosphere...destruction of the home that we know.
Humans have lost their connection to all other things.
Most don't care...they continue to consume...and consume...and create wastes...
It starts when we are babies...
it starts in our teachings...our domestication...
we are worthless unless we overpower.
We were overpowered...by the abuse...by the dysfunction...by the alcoholism...by the secrets.
We were taught at a very young age that we were less powerful than our caretakers...
and we submitted. What else could we do?
At least our basic needs were being met...and as you have said...there are some good memories intermixed.
But, it is time to shine a Light on those beliefs, to recognize them for the bull shit that they are, and to say "no more"...
Time to learn love and patience and kindness.
It is a good time for life,
Maggie
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Quick thought
Clare,
Is ther any way to take her to her Momma to nurse during the day?
I was lucky enough to do that with mine.
It is good to be back...
Maggie
Is ther any way to take her to her Momma to nurse during the day?
I was lucky enough to do that with mine.
It is good to be back...
Maggie
More violence...always violence...will it end?
Good morning Maggie,
I hope you had/are having a safe flight home. I hope you readjust to all the time changes quickly! I am looking forward to seeing you here again.
I have been taking care of my grandchildren during the day. My granddaughter is almost four months old. Taking care of her, while exploring our past has been pertinent for me. I don't know what happened to me as an infant, just as she won't remember what is happening to her right now. We are absolutely at the mercy of our caregivers and of circumstances.
Yesterday, Monday, was a trying day for both of us...for all three of us. On the weekends, the little girl is relaxed and happy because Mama is always available. On Monday, Mama has to go to work and suddenly our little one is faced with a rubber nipple - a poor substitute for Mama. She cried for a long time...calling her Mama, demanding her Mama. She had to give up and accept the breastmilk in a bottle when hunger became too strong. We are relieved, and say she is adjusting. I think she is giving up and surrendering to the violation. She knows exactly what she needs, and we won't give it to her. It is so hard for me to deal with her screaming, because I know the solution is so simple. And her big brother really has little interaction while I try to soothe.
When she was screaming yesterday, I became so angry at the violence of our government. It is draconian to force a woman to go back to work when her child is 6 weeks old. The mother is barely healed, this is a vital time in establishing a successful breastfeeding relationship, and babies that young need their mothers. They don't need a good caregiver, they need their mother. But in this country, we know those in power have no concern. You can be homeless and it only affects statistics. You can be homeless with a baby, and oh, well...There is no assistance to preserve the mother-child bond. It is the utmost violence.
This little girl knows exactly what she needs and is not afraid to scream for it. How did we lose that? Probably the same way she will. No one answers and we give up and accept the way it is.
Sometimes I say I chose poverty in my life. I stayed with my kids, homeschooling them. I worked part-time at a job I could do at home. We made it. But look at me now. I have months where I am forced to decide between electricity and groceries. I am being punished for not developing a career and spending my life supporting the system. I know so many mothers who long to make the same choices - to be with their families, but this system will not allow it. I get so angry!
As I have been considering what is happening with this baby, coincidentally I found an article about the current violence of birthing procedures. Babies are not supposed to be dragged out of the womb screaming. Their cries are from distress. Then the authors traced violence in the womb and at birth to changes in the personality. Violence affects who we are, who we become, the ways we will react and behave.
I have been thinking a lot about violence. I see the violence toward babies and families, but in the womb? It cuts deep, but I see it. And I am left bleeding, wondering what happened to us,...again, I am wondering what happened to us...
http://birthpsychology.com/free-article/what-babies-are-teaching-us-about-violence
I hope you had/are having a safe flight home. I hope you readjust to all the time changes quickly! I am looking forward to seeing you here again.
I have been taking care of my grandchildren during the day. My granddaughter is almost four months old. Taking care of her, while exploring our past has been pertinent for me. I don't know what happened to me as an infant, just as she won't remember what is happening to her right now. We are absolutely at the mercy of our caregivers and of circumstances.
Yesterday, Monday, was a trying day for both of us...for all three of us. On the weekends, the little girl is relaxed and happy because Mama is always available. On Monday, Mama has to go to work and suddenly our little one is faced with a rubber nipple - a poor substitute for Mama. She cried for a long time...calling her Mama, demanding her Mama. She had to give up and accept the breastmilk in a bottle when hunger became too strong. We are relieved, and say she is adjusting. I think she is giving up and surrendering to the violation. She knows exactly what she needs, and we won't give it to her. It is so hard for me to deal with her screaming, because I know the solution is so simple. And her big brother really has little interaction while I try to soothe.
When she was screaming yesterday, I became so angry at the violence of our government. It is draconian to force a woman to go back to work when her child is 6 weeks old. The mother is barely healed, this is a vital time in establishing a successful breastfeeding relationship, and babies that young need their mothers. They don't need a good caregiver, they need their mother. But in this country, we know those in power have no concern. You can be homeless and it only affects statistics. You can be homeless with a baby, and oh, well...There is no assistance to preserve the mother-child bond. It is the utmost violence.
This little girl knows exactly what she needs and is not afraid to scream for it. How did we lose that? Probably the same way she will. No one answers and we give up and accept the way it is.
Sometimes I say I chose poverty in my life. I stayed with my kids, homeschooling them. I worked part-time at a job I could do at home. We made it. But look at me now. I have months where I am forced to decide between electricity and groceries. I am being punished for not developing a career and spending my life supporting the system. I know so many mothers who long to make the same choices - to be with their families, but this system will not allow it. I get so angry!
As I have been considering what is happening with this baby, coincidentally I found an article about the current violence of birthing procedures. Babies are not supposed to be dragged out of the womb screaming. Their cries are from distress. Then the authors traced violence in the womb and at birth to changes in the personality. Violence affects who we are, who we become, the ways we will react and behave.
I have been thinking a lot about violence. I see the violence toward babies and families, but in the womb? It cuts deep, but I see it. And I am left bleeding, wondering what happened to us,...again, I am wondering what happened to us...
http://birthpsychology.com/free-article/what-babies-are-teaching-us-about-violence
Clare,
I have missed you.
I was reading your posts and was smiling and crying.
Thank you for the kindness that you showed those travelers on the bus...
they will never forget you and those acts...
and maybe, just maybe, they will offer others similar kindnesses.
Thank you for discussing the 'grooming' that goes on in dysfunctional homes and the sad fact that we women are prepared for our future lives by such an early age.
We deserve so much more...
We have so much potential...
We are taught to expect less than enough...
because we are taught that we are not enough.
I AM ENOUGH...
I am strong...
I am beautiful...
I am intelligent...
I am loving and compassionate...
I am talented...
I am gifted...
I am MORE than enough.
This past weekend I found myself repeatedly face to face with two of my heroines...
Jeanne D'Arc and Mary Magdalene.
They are immortalized in sculpture and paintings everywhere.
I have loved and admired both for as long as I can remember.
They were both strong, independent and brilliant.
They both spoke their truths for others to hear, despite the consequences.
They both said Me Too...
When I allow myself to become consumed by activity...
my addiction to busy-ness...
I remind myself of Martha complaining to Jesus that Mary wasn't helping...
Jesus said directly that Mary has chosen the better path...
she chose to sit with wisdom and greatness and to be with people...
she interacted with the group, was part of the discussion, while Martha stayed on the fringe and watched as she cooked and cleaned.
Martha allowed herself to be separate...
Mary joined in.
I am thinking that your reaching out to fellow travelers was a way of joining in...
you could have remained separate and aloof...but you chose to interact.
And now you are with your family and you are interacting...
not just helping with the cooking, cleaning and child care...
you are sitting with them, sharing yourself with them and truly loving them for who they are...
and the beauty of that is that they will trust you to show themselves...
warts and blemishes and all.
When I think of Jeanne D'Arc...I think of a teenage girl...probably raised...or groomed to marry...
and yet she had a vision...
and she trusted her Heart's Voice...
enough to leave home and go to war...
(I have never been comfortable about the fact that she led a war...
I have always felt that God would direct towards peace)
but in the end,
despite betrayal and being burned to death,
she still trusted that voice and her goals.
I admit, that I have lived with a Jeanne D'Arc complex...
I would save everyone at my own expense...
at least I did until we started working through all of this family history.
I believe that I have come to realize that I can only change myself...
my own perceptions...my own reactions and beliefs...
I can not affect change in others...they have to do their own work...
In the end what we labor for has more value and meaning than what is given to us.
Being shunned by the family because of speaking my truths has been alot less dramatic than being burned to death...but it is a death of sorts.
But I must say, as I have said previously; I have never regretted my actions when they flow from my Heart's Voice.
When you spoke of being afraid of heights...
I seem to remembered Dad once saying that it was less a fear of heights and more a fear that he would jump off...
random memories must mean something.
It is good to be back...
Until tomorrow,
Maggie
I have missed you.
I was reading your posts and was smiling and crying.
Thank you for the kindness that you showed those travelers on the bus...
they will never forget you and those acts...
and maybe, just maybe, they will offer others similar kindnesses.
Thank you for discussing the 'grooming' that goes on in dysfunctional homes and the sad fact that we women are prepared for our future lives by such an early age.
We deserve so much more...
We have so much potential...
We are taught to expect less than enough...
because we are taught that we are not enough.
I AM ENOUGH...
I am strong...
I am beautiful...
I am intelligent...
I am loving and compassionate...
I am talented...
I am gifted...
I am MORE than enough.
This past weekend I found myself repeatedly face to face with two of my heroines...
Jeanne D'Arc and Mary Magdalene.
They are immortalized in sculpture and paintings everywhere.
I have loved and admired both for as long as I can remember.
They were both strong, independent and brilliant.
They both spoke their truths for others to hear, despite the consequences.
They both said Me Too...
When I allow myself to become consumed by activity...
my addiction to busy-ness...
I remind myself of Martha complaining to Jesus that Mary wasn't helping...
Jesus said directly that Mary has chosen the better path...
she chose to sit with wisdom and greatness and to be with people...
she interacted with the group, was part of the discussion, while Martha stayed on the fringe and watched as she cooked and cleaned.
Martha allowed herself to be separate...
Mary joined in.
I am thinking that your reaching out to fellow travelers was a way of joining in...
you could have remained separate and aloof...but you chose to interact.
And now you are with your family and you are interacting...
not just helping with the cooking, cleaning and child care...
you are sitting with them, sharing yourself with them and truly loving them for who they are...
and the beauty of that is that they will trust you to show themselves...
warts and blemishes and all.
When I think of Jeanne D'Arc...I think of a teenage girl...probably raised...or groomed to marry...
and yet she had a vision...
and she trusted her Heart's Voice...
enough to leave home and go to war...
(I have never been comfortable about the fact that she led a war...
I have always felt that God would direct towards peace)
but in the end,
despite betrayal and being burned to death,
she still trusted that voice and her goals.
I admit, that I have lived with a Jeanne D'Arc complex...
I would save everyone at my own expense...
at least I did until we started working through all of this family history.
I believe that I have come to realize that I can only change myself...
my own perceptions...my own reactions and beliefs...
I can not affect change in others...they have to do their own work...
In the end what we labor for has more value and meaning than what is given to us.
Being shunned by the family because of speaking my truths has been alot less dramatic than being burned to death...but it is a death of sorts.
But I must say, as I have said previously; I have never regretted my actions when they flow from my Heart's Voice.
When you spoke of being afraid of heights...
I seem to remembered Dad once saying that it was less a fear of heights and more a fear that he would jump off...
random memories must mean something.
It is good to be back...
Until tomorrow,
Maggie
Monday, August 13, 2012
Adrenaline Rush
Did you know I am terrified of heights? It may be because I fell off a sliding board at age 2 and broke my collar bone...according to the story. I really can't remember. But I know my body remembers! Yesterday we went up into the mountains and hiked. We were climbing big rocks around the waterfalls at the beginning of a river. Between the mountains and the eons of erosion, there are some heart-stopping drops. My adrenaline was flowing all afternoon. It sort of heightens the feeling of being alive, although I can understand the potential of becoming an adrenaline junkie!
My son was actually making fun of me, and recalling a family trip to Niagara Falls when he was about 11. He imitated me: Stay back from the edge! And I remember being so much calmer when we took the elevator to the bottom and explored the river below the falls. As far as I was concerned, we were still experiencing the falls.
Later last evening my daughter-in-law and I sat down and got caught in a deep conversation about dysfunctional families. It is so hard to be transparent, but I am trying. And believe me, stripping oneself just releases another adrenaline rush!!! I talked a little about family history and the results of living in violence and alcoholism. We compared fears and nightmares and coping mechanisms. It was a Me too moment, to some extent. And we both wondered what it would be like to belong to a functional family!
But, to some extent, we are becoming functional, or perhaps we are becoming comparatively functional considering where we started! Our work here is affecting the family, I think...even if it's just because we can see more clearly.
I have been reading Women Who Run With Wolves, and really thinking about the dual nature of women, and more particularly of myself. The author proposes that we each have the woman self, and the inner criatura. I think this is the wild woman, who I am still trying to know. I am so used to being nice that I still can't quite define my inner-wild woman. Yesterday I made jokes about respecting my inner coward, who does not want to stand on the ledge of an overlook, no matter how awesome! My daughter-in-law says that is wisdom, respecting the body's wishes. I need to find some way to feel/see/experience my inner wildling. I am still caught in the image of a wild woman as party girl, and I know that is wrong.
I am also trying to understand the duality within me. I think I remember reading two basic questions in the book - ask What do you want? and What does your deeper self desire? How much have I squashed my thoughts and desires, in order to survive? I don't know if I have any idea what I want. Sometimes, I wander around my house, saying, "I want something, but I don't know what it is..." If I am unable to identify my basic needs, how can I hope to uncover my deeper needs? And by uncovering my deeper needs, recognize the Wild Woman.
God, I really miss you. This is so much more exhilerating when you are here to respond to or to respond. Soloing is not much fun!
Safe trip home little sister!
C.
My son was actually making fun of me, and recalling a family trip to Niagara Falls when he was about 11. He imitated me: Stay back from the edge! And I remember being so much calmer when we took the elevator to the bottom and explored the river below the falls. As far as I was concerned, we were still experiencing the falls.
Later last evening my daughter-in-law and I sat down and got caught in a deep conversation about dysfunctional families. It is so hard to be transparent, but I am trying. And believe me, stripping oneself just releases another adrenaline rush!!! I talked a little about family history and the results of living in violence and alcoholism. We compared fears and nightmares and coping mechanisms. It was a Me too moment, to some extent. And we both wondered what it would be like to belong to a functional family!
But, to some extent, we are becoming functional, or perhaps we are becoming comparatively functional considering where we started! Our work here is affecting the family, I think...even if it's just because we can see more clearly.
I have been reading Women Who Run With Wolves, and really thinking about the dual nature of women, and more particularly of myself. The author proposes that we each have the woman self, and the inner criatura. I think this is the wild woman, who I am still trying to know. I am so used to being nice that I still can't quite define my inner-wild woman. Yesterday I made jokes about respecting my inner coward, who does not want to stand on the ledge of an overlook, no matter how awesome! My daughter-in-law says that is wisdom, respecting the body's wishes. I need to find some way to feel/see/experience my inner wildling. I am still caught in the image of a wild woman as party girl, and I know that is wrong.
I am also trying to understand the duality within me. I think I remember reading two basic questions in the book - ask What do you want? and What does your deeper self desire? How much have I squashed my thoughts and desires, in order to survive? I don't know if I have any idea what I want. Sometimes, I wander around my house, saying, "I want something, but I don't know what it is..." If I am unable to identify my basic needs, how can I hope to uncover my deeper needs? And by uncovering my deeper needs, recognize the Wild Woman.
God, I really miss you. This is so much more exhilerating when you are here to respond to or to respond. Soloing is not much fun!
Safe trip home little sister!
C.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Is it all over by 5?
"This acquiescience to marrying the monster is decided when girls are very young, usually before five years of age. They are taught not to see, and instead to "make pretty" all manner of grotesqueries, whether they are lovely or not."
-Clarissa Pinkola Estes
This is something from Women Who Run With Wolves that leapt off the page at me. By age five? We are already lost by age five? We are already walking into the roles that will maintain family dysfunction. In reading that, I felt hopeless, and wondered again...what happened to me? to us? In reading, I began thinking about the dream, once again.
I am still a bit confused by it - the dark dream where I wake up hyperventilating. Nothing ever really happens. I am exploring my house, and I am in the wing where it is dark, there is something in the dark and panic sets in. I want to escape, but I can't. I don't know what or where it is. What I do understand is that whatever it is that is triggering the dream, or the memory I am trying to process happened before I was five. And I am very confident that something happened at the hands of a protector...probably a parent.
As I described before, as I have coped with this nightmare, the darkness went from inhabiting the whole wing, to a room, to being in a box. In the box is a living, breathing young girl almost mummified with blood or tar. She is not evil, but is paralyzed by violence. I am not afraid of her, so, was I afraid of the part of myself that is her? Logically, I am afraid of waht happened to her/me, or of whoever did this to her/me. Where is that person? Is the one who hurt this little girl so badly even in my house any more? Am I just afraid of potential for violence in this world? Am I afraid because women/children are not safe?
The box was not evil, the box that contained the little girl. The box was the tool that isolated the girl from the rest of the dark. So where did the other go? I just had a thought - maybe the dark can not exist in the Light. Sounds stupid to say that, but maybe what was there was the shadow of memory - memories held in the body, memories the mind can not bear to recall. But they can't go, the memories are part of me. I wonder where they are stored...
By age five, I was trained to accept, and to have no hope, no mechanism at protecting myself. I was at the mercy of those around me. At that point I was already prepared to be the victim of sexual assault. I didn't know how to tell if I was safe or not. The question never entered my mind. I just floated along in life at the whim of whatever was around me. By age five, I was already trained to marry, not a monster but an alcoholic. The compassionate part of me knows that I married someone who was in severe pain, and who numbed daily. But in reality I chose an archetypical monster. I think we all play these roles for each other. Although there was never physical violence, there was psychological violence. And I accepted it, tried to cope with it, tried to adjust my thinking to make it work, all the while thinking I was lucky. And I was ready for this by age five.
I am experiencing my first wildfire. The fires are in the mountains, not close, but the sky is overcast and we can smell the faint scent of campfire smoke. It is beautiful here. I really like it, and am enjoying my time with my son and daughter-in-law so much. But overall, I think I prefer the snowstorms and thunderstorms of the east to the wildfires, mudslides and earthquakes of the west!
I am looking forward to hearing about Paris...dreaming of someday.....
Love from Clare
-Clarissa Pinkola Estes
This is something from Women Who Run With Wolves that leapt off the page at me. By age five? We are already lost by age five? We are already walking into the roles that will maintain family dysfunction. In reading that, I felt hopeless, and wondered again...what happened to me? to us? In reading, I began thinking about the dream, once again.
I am still a bit confused by it - the dark dream where I wake up hyperventilating. Nothing ever really happens. I am exploring my house, and I am in the wing where it is dark, there is something in the dark and panic sets in. I want to escape, but I can't. I don't know what or where it is. What I do understand is that whatever it is that is triggering the dream, or the memory I am trying to process happened before I was five. And I am very confident that something happened at the hands of a protector...probably a parent.
As I described before, as I have coped with this nightmare, the darkness went from inhabiting the whole wing, to a room, to being in a box. In the box is a living, breathing young girl almost mummified with blood or tar. She is not evil, but is paralyzed by violence. I am not afraid of her, so, was I afraid of the part of myself that is her? Logically, I am afraid of waht happened to her/me, or of whoever did this to her/me. Where is that person? Is the one who hurt this little girl so badly even in my house any more? Am I just afraid of potential for violence in this world? Am I afraid because women/children are not safe?
The box was not evil, the box that contained the little girl. The box was the tool that isolated the girl from the rest of the dark. So where did the other go? I just had a thought - maybe the dark can not exist in the Light. Sounds stupid to say that, but maybe what was there was the shadow of memory - memories held in the body, memories the mind can not bear to recall. But they can't go, the memories are part of me. I wonder where they are stored...
By age five, I was trained to accept, and to have no hope, no mechanism at protecting myself. I was at the mercy of those around me. At that point I was already prepared to be the victim of sexual assault. I didn't know how to tell if I was safe or not. The question never entered my mind. I just floated along in life at the whim of whatever was around me. By age five, I was already trained to marry, not a monster but an alcoholic. The compassionate part of me knows that I married someone who was in severe pain, and who numbed daily. But in reality I chose an archetypical monster. I think we all play these roles for each other. Although there was never physical violence, there was psychological violence. And I accepted it, tried to cope with it, tried to adjust my thinking to make it work, all the while thinking I was lucky. And I was ready for this by age five.
I am experiencing my first wildfire. The fires are in the mountains, not close, but the sky is overcast and we can smell the faint scent of campfire smoke. It is beautiful here. I really like it, and am enjoying my time with my son and daughter-in-law so much. But overall, I think I prefer the snowstorms and thunderstorms of the east to the wildfires, mudslides and earthquakes of the west!
I am looking forward to hearing about Paris...dreaming of someday.....
Love from Clare
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Stranger No More?
I have not spent time in Europe yet, but I talk to Europeans all day long. I know I idealize, somewhat, but I do love the culture of slowing down and enjoying where you are. My expectation is that meals are shared with loved ones and take a lot of time, because people are really spending time with each other - listening and laughing, and because they are truly tasting and enjoying their foods. That comes out way ahead of my memory of spending hours preparing meals which were consumed in 20 minutes.
I decided to start reading Women Who Run With Wolves again, this time with a highlighter in hand. I know I passed a few comments that really made me stop and think. The problem is, I have been falling asleep after reading only a few pages. I will keep going!
I was thinking about my recent bus trip, and about changes I/we have been going through because of this work. I have always been a very reserved person. I don't know how much of that is normal personality or character, and how much was created by circumstance. Moving every year taught me to pull myself together tightly and not let any part of me touch anyone else - or really be seen! I always envied people who could interact lovingly and immediately, to notice others and reach out.
I have a friend, I may have mentioned before, who is a natural cheerleader and mom type. She helps others so easily, and faces everyone with such love and concern and humor. There are times, when I want to be more than I am, that I channel my inner-Friend - I imagine what she would do.
On the bus, there was some confusion about which bus an older gentleman belonged on. As he left, it seemed he left a bag on our bus. I wasn't sure, so I didn't say anything. I was upset with myself, because this was certainly not following the golden rule! I saw him a few cities later, and actually ran across the station and touched his arm to ask if he had his bag. This is not me...or this was never me before.
Was that the breakthrough? Maybe, because after that I saw a young mom struggling with lots of baby apparel, trying to get down the aisle with babe in arms. I asked if I could help and she promptly deposited a sleeping angel into my arms. Another woman was traveling with her older sister and was worried about the next food stop. Her sister was feeling a little dizzy. I gave her an apple, and offered her more. They were both so grateful.
These seem so insignificant, and in a way they are. The act of kindness is insignificant, the hard part is reaching out and touching a stranger. But once we do reach out to a stranger, they aren't any more - they are a fellow traveler.
I hope you are loving your travels. We are going to spend the afternoon picking berries and the evening watching the Perseids meteor shower in the mountains!
I decided to start reading Women Who Run With Wolves again, this time with a highlighter in hand. I know I passed a few comments that really made me stop and think. The problem is, I have been falling asleep after reading only a few pages. I will keep going!
I was thinking about my recent bus trip, and about changes I/we have been going through because of this work. I have always been a very reserved person. I don't know how much of that is normal personality or character, and how much was created by circumstance. Moving every year taught me to pull myself together tightly and not let any part of me touch anyone else - or really be seen! I always envied people who could interact lovingly and immediately, to notice others and reach out.
I have a friend, I may have mentioned before, who is a natural cheerleader and mom type. She helps others so easily, and faces everyone with such love and concern and humor. There are times, when I want to be more than I am, that I channel my inner-Friend - I imagine what she would do.
On the bus, there was some confusion about which bus an older gentleman belonged on. As he left, it seemed he left a bag on our bus. I wasn't sure, so I didn't say anything. I was upset with myself, because this was certainly not following the golden rule! I saw him a few cities later, and actually ran across the station and touched his arm to ask if he had his bag. This is not me...or this was never me before.
Was that the breakthrough? Maybe, because after that I saw a young mom struggling with lots of baby apparel, trying to get down the aisle with babe in arms. I asked if I could help and she promptly deposited a sleeping angel into my arms. Another woman was traveling with her older sister and was worried about the next food stop. Her sister was feeling a little dizzy. I gave her an apple, and offered her more. They were both so grateful.
These seem so insignificant, and in a way they are. The act of kindness is insignificant, the hard part is reaching out and touching a stranger. But once we do reach out to a stranger, they aren't any more - they are a fellow traveler.
I hope you are loving your travels. We are going to spend the afternoon picking berries and the evening watching the Perseids meteor shower in the mountains!
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Au revoir...
So Clare,
I am off in a few hours...
and you are with your son and family.
We will both gain new insights by having these experiences.
Daughter #1 told me that Europeans are relaxed and enjoy life fully
and that I should emulate that, relax and be open to the experiences that await.
I will...
I hope that you can find moments in your time West to just enjoy your son, daughter in law, and those babies...remember to be open to the experiences.
I will resume when I return...
Je t'aime,
Maggie
I am off in a few hours...
and you are with your son and family.
We will both gain new insights by having these experiences.
Daughter #1 told me that Europeans are relaxed and enjoy life fully
and that I should emulate that, relax and be open to the experiences that await.
I will...
I hope that you can find moments in your time West to just enjoy your son, daughter in law, and those babies...remember to be open to the experiences.
I will resume when I return...
Je t'aime,
Maggie
Dress Up for Paris, Darling!
I had considered your question...What would have happened if someone would have reached out with kindness? I think it's gotta be the next step in order to heal that one soul. By the time we were aware of the problem, the rest of the general population of our small society, I don't think kindness would have made much difference to him. It might have affected the others, though. It might have been a way to break through that group mentality. It is almost as if we can only identify ourselves as okay if we belong. I could see the power of belonging in the group that were joining to face and oust the damaged man. But to join, they had to identify him as other, and there is the problem.
I think a huge problem we have with our society is that we want to know how to solve the problem now, and just stop there. We do need to salvage as much as possible and find temporary ways to ameliorate, but we also need to learn and try to stop the patterns from repeating. We already know the outcomes, but they're so familiar, we don't even know there's a connection. Until we recognize the processes as that strip our souls of humanity, nothing will change. That's why I used to get so angry at schools who had the children make "NO Bullying" posters to put up on school walls. Yet the children were allowed to call each other names, identify the outsiders and ostracize on so many levels. No one recognized true bullying. They just wanted the resulting violence to stop...
Over and over, I come back to trying to recognize the violence in all it's forms. We don't see so much of it, because it is just our natural environment...It's not natural, we have just come to tolerate and therefore not see.
I do think the French are a lot more stylish, and clothes-aware than we are. Take your daughter's advice...besides, how often do American's get to dress up?
I would amend your thought about happiness. I think it might just be the chance to engage...not just another, but simply engage, and feel part of...Or, alternately, I would say engage another as long as another can be any sentience. Keep in mind, I believe the rocks are sentient!
I can't wait to hear about your weekend. I am so happy and excited for you!
Love, and Bon voyage!
C.
I think a huge problem we have with our society is that we want to know how to solve the problem now, and just stop there. We do need to salvage as much as possible and find temporary ways to ameliorate, but we also need to learn and try to stop the patterns from repeating. We already know the outcomes, but they're so familiar, we don't even know there's a connection. Until we recognize the processes as that strip our souls of humanity, nothing will change. That's why I used to get so angry at schools who had the children make "NO Bullying" posters to put up on school walls. Yet the children were allowed to call each other names, identify the outsiders and ostracize on so many levels. No one recognized true bullying. They just wanted the resulting violence to stop...
Over and over, I come back to trying to recognize the violence in all it's forms. We don't see so much of it, because it is just our natural environment...It's not natural, we have just come to tolerate and therefore not see.
I do think the French are a lot more stylish, and clothes-aware than we are. Take your daughter's advice...besides, how often do American's get to dress up?
I would amend your thought about happiness. I think it might just be the chance to engage...not just another, but simply engage, and feel part of...Or, alternately, I would say engage another as long as another can be any sentience. Keep in mind, I believe the rocks are sentient!
I can't wait to hear about your weekend. I am so happy and excited for you!
Love, and Bon voyage!
C.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
the simplest things are never easy
Dear Clare,
I believe that you are correct and that it is simple...
connection is simply opening to others and being visible...
maybe even transparent.
But simple is not always easy.
It takes great courage to stand up to the angry mob...
to pull back that curtain...thanks for using the Oz reference...I love that movie!
to acknowledge the possibility that the our perceived reality is merely illusion...
and that we have the power to expose the truth.
I am left sadly wondering how the bus situation would have turn out if someone had attempted to reach out with kindness to the drunken man when he became unruly?
So my travels begin tomorrow. I will check in here in the morning and then we will be gone until Monday.
I was getting daughter#1's opinion on what to pack last night...
she told me that I need to accessorize...
so as I was going through my jewelery I found an old, folded up article from a magazine on happiness. I obviously got something from this article years ago, enough to make me tear it out, mark the highlights and keep it.
It talked about finding happiness in the ordinary...not looking for peak experiences because they supply only temporary highs and then are followed by a let down...but in mindful appreciation of the ordinary.
So to tie this in to our discussion...
maybe happiness is being able to simple engage another person...
to fully appreciate them for their strengths and weaknesses...
and to allow them to see us.
Now to find the courage to do just that.
As I have been walking recently I have been imagining going to the Night Out (the walk against abuse) event next year and speaking of my experiences and pointing out the epidemic proportions of abuse in our world and then suggesting Me Too...and seeing what happens.
Perhaps other opportunities will arise prior to that...
For now we need to make the attempt to reconnect to our family of origin, by sharing this blog.
I think that before we have the strength to do anything on a public level we need to at least weather the storm of our own family of origin.
I wish you good sleep and sweet dreams
Blessings,
Maggie.
I believe that you are correct and that it is simple...
connection is simply opening to others and being visible...
maybe even transparent.
But simple is not always easy.
It takes great courage to stand up to the angry mob...
to pull back that curtain...thanks for using the Oz reference...I love that movie!
to acknowledge the possibility that the our perceived reality is merely illusion...
and that we have the power to expose the truth.
I am left sadly wondering how the bus situation would have turn out if someone had attempted to reach out with kindness to the drunken man when he became unruly?
So my travels begin tomorrow. I will check in here in the morning and then we will be gone until Monday.
I was getting daughter#1's opinion on what to pack last night...
she told me that I need to accessorize...
so as I was going through my jewelery I found an old, folded up article from a magazine on happiness. I obviously got something from this article years ago, enough to make me tear it out, mark the highlights and keep it.
It talked about finding happiness in the ordinary...not looking for peak experiences because they supply only temporary highs and then are followed by a let down...but in mindful appreciation of the ordinary.
So to tie this in to our discussion...
maybe happiness is being able to simple engage another person...
to fully appreciate them for their strengths and weaknesses...
and to allow them to see us.
Now to find the courage to do just that.
As I have been walking recently I have been imagining going to the Night Out (the walk against abuse) event next year and speaking of my experiences and pointing out the epidemic proportions of abuse in our world and then suggesting Me Too...and seeing what happens.
Perhaps other opportunities will arise prior to that...
For now we need to make the attempt to reconnect to our family of origin, by sharing this blog.
I think that before we have the strength to do anything on a public level we need to at least weather the storm of our own family of origin.
I wish you good sleep and sweet dreams
Blessings,
Maggie.
I Am the Mighty Oz!
Good very early morning,
I am just trying to get into the swing of being in a new place, and on a new time schedule. I am working limited hours, but working on home time, and the time difference is so confusing! I haven't slept normally - actually I really haven't slept much - yet. And I am working on this blog in the middle of the night. So forgive me if I seem a bit strange!!! (Stranger than normal, maybe!)
Thank you for your powerful response to my bus story. As an added piece, a few stops later, I was talking to a young woman who brought up the episode. She told me she felt so bad for the man, then sort of looked at me, gauging my response - we are seeking each other in this world. I agreed and we talked about it for a few moments. What was most powerful for me was that moment of understanding it might just be that simple. I have been waiting for massive changes, looking for them, reading books about them. But the simple truth is that all we have to do is open our hearts and be vulnerable and truly see each other. It sounds so simple when I write it down...
I have been on this path for awhile, and the confirmation that have not strayed is comforting. I remember discussing the "war" in Iraq with someone from France. As I described what we have been doing, I started to cry. It was humiliating, but I stood in my tears, and refused to be theoretical about destroyed families and depleted uranium.
I think the next step is to do something...and with this work with you, I have a feeling the something is very simple. Shine a light on the situation. We look at it with compassion, but we look - no cringing, no averting eyes, no pretending it isn't happening. The Oz story holds lots of symbolism...we stop buying into the drama and watch the man behind the curtain! We pull back the curtains and see. I just had this image of being able to see with the heart. Is there some kind of folk image of a heart with eyes?
You wrote of suffering. It makes us strong, they tell us. But I agree it is humiliating and painful and isolating. There comes the time when we pull back the curtain, and see that we are the little man hiding behind the curtain pretending to be all powerful Oz. Ah, but the relief of just having to be Clare. I can just be a flawed human being making my way through each day with a smile - mostly, and a song in my heart and on my lips - sometimes. Shining the light seems simple, but it begins with standing in the light and saying "Me, too."
Rather than solidarity, perhaps Me too creates ooey-gooey connections, psychic glue of sorts that shows us how to be soft and brave and vulnerable in each other's arms - dancing together, maybe. I know I accept you, no matter what. You are welcome in my dance, and I treasure the moments of vulnerability and joy and tears. You leave me stronger, able to face the rest of my life...Solidarity seems so tough. I want to be open...I can't find a word to describe accessible, but not stupid, able to protect self, yet trusting my fellow travelers.
I had a thought I wanted to share and follow, but it has disappeared into...the near future, I hope. When will you be leaving for Paris? I think I will probably share some thoughts about the book you gave me. I have been reading slowly, but there have been a few moments of absolute recognition, and it led to a different understanding. I will follow this while you are gone - when I get to solo!
Remember I love you, have a beautiful day!
Clare
I am just trying to get into the swing of being in a new place, and on a new time schedule. I am working limited hours, but working on home time, and the time difference is so confusing! I haven't slept normally - actually I really haven't slept much - yet. And I am working on this blog in the middle of the night. So forgive me if I seem a bit strange!!! (Stranger than normal, maybe!)
Thank you for your powerful response to my bus story. As an added piece, a few stops later, I was talking to a young woman who brought up the episode. She told me she felt so bad for the man, then sort of looked at me, gauging my response - we are seeking each other in this world. I agreed and we talked about it for a few moments. What was most powerful for me was that moment of understanding it might just be that simple. I have been waiting for massive changes, looking for them, reading books about them. But the simple truth is that all we have to do is open our hearts and be vulnerable and truly see each other. It sounds so simple when I write it down...
I have been on this path for awhile, and the confirmation that have not strayed is comforting. I remember discussing the "war" in Iraq with someone from France. As I described what we have been doing, I started to cry. It was humiliating, but I stood in my tears, and refused to be theoretical about destroyed families and depleted uranium.
I think the next step is to do something...and with this work with you, I have a feeling the something is very simple. Shine a light on the situation. We look at it with compassion, but we look - no cringing, no averting eyes, no pretending it isn't happening. The Oz story holds lots of symbolism...we stop buying into the drama and watch the man behind the curtain! We pull back the curtains and see. I just had this image of being able to see with the heart. Is there some kind of folk image of a heart with eyes?
You wrote of suffering. It makes us strong, they tell us. But I agree it is humiliating and painful and isolating. There comes the time when we pull back the curtain, and see that we are the little man hiding behind the curtain pretending to be all powerful Oz. Ah, but the relief of just having to be Clare. I can just be a flawed human being making my way through each day with a smile - mostly, and a song in my heart and on my lips - sometimes. Shining the light seems simple, but it begins with standing in the light and saying "Me, too."
Rather than solidarity, perhaps Me too creates ooey-gooey connections, psychic glue of sorts that shows us how to be soft and brave and vulnerable in each other's arms - dancing together, maybe. I know I accept you, no matter what. You are welcome in my dance, and I treasure the moments of vulnerability and joy and tears. You leave me stronger, able to face the rest of my life...Solidarity seems so tough. I want to be open...I can't find a word to describe accessible, but not stupid, able to protect self, yet trusting my fellow travelers.
I had a thought I wanted to share and follow, but it has disappeared into...the near future, I hope. When will you be leaving for Paris? I think I will probably share some thoughts about the book you gave me. I have been reading slowly, but there have been a few moments of absolute recognition, and it led to a different understanding. I will follow this while you are gone - when I get to solo!
Remember I love you, have a beautiful day!
Clare
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