I am not Biblical. I tend to shy from reading scripture. So I think my attitude would be much like yours. I had a much more spiritual moment yesterday, on my knees in the mud uncovering the daffodils. That was rebirth and the promise of the future.
I was talking about the Easter story with someone. We were analyzing the way the date is set for Easter each year, and the relationship of Easter and Passover. Suddenly I realized, for the first time, that public executions were part of the Passover celebration. We celebrate our deliverance from death by killing others?
The violence hit me really hard...So much of our religious history is steeped in this violence. I have such a hard time working with, believing in, participating in, belonging to any religion...
We had a holy day because it was my grandson's third birthday. We had chocolate and brunch and jelly beans and birthday cake, and sugared up kids. Of course it was not holy because of this, but because of the miracle that is this little boy!
I got to spend time with 4 of my kids. I miss the west coast family so much...It's the end of a long day. More tomorrow!
Love you,
Clare
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Easter
Easter was confusing for me today.
I remember about a 7 - 10 years ago I loved Holy Week...
I was the musical director of my Parish, That meant I was able to plan all of the music of Holy Week...
I was also able to use old traditional hymns and contemporary christian songs as well...
I carefully put together programs that told the story...in a way that touched my soul.
By the time we finished on Easter morning I was drained and then refilled.
Today, at Meeting a women did opening exercises...she told the Easter story from a very paternalistic point of view...she read 2 gospel readings about the resurrection and got choked up and finished the second one in tears...but, I felt nothing.
I sat in Meeting for the first 5 or 10 minutes searching for some emotional response, or an inspiration and I was blank. Not blank as in open to the spirit...just blank.
I had one child in First Day School and we talked about the readings and his reaction to the readings. I found myself explaining the readings as a story that was fictional. With a level of avoidance that I can't remember experiencing before. Our discussion led into the perception of good and bad which was more comfortable for me.
I ran the egg hunt for the younger classroom...that was fun. We even had a squirrel open some of the plastic eggs and steal the treats inside.
At home I had 3 of my four home and they watched a movie together while I worked on homework assignments and grading for my bio class. Greg was at the accountants completing our taxes. We played scrabble and cooked dinner. It was all ordinary. It just didn't feel like a holiday or a holy day. I am not sure if this is good or bad. I don't want to become secular, but I also resonate with the Quaker belief that all days are holy.
Anyway, the bottom line is that I must be at an emotionally stable period...not able to be swept away.
Is that a good thing or a bad?
Love and Light,
Maggie
I remember about a 7 - 10 years ago I loved Holy Week...
I was the musical director of my Parish, That meant I was able to plan all of the music of Holy Week...
I was also able to use old traditional hymns and contemporary christian songs as well...
I carefully put together programs that told the story...in a way that touched my soul.
By the time we finished on Easter morning I was drained and then refilled.
Today, at Meeting a women did opening exercises...she told the Easter story from a very paternalistic point of view...she read 2 gospel readings about the resurrection and got choked up and finished the second one in tears...but, I felt nothing.
I sat in Meeting for the first 5 or 10 minutes searching for some emotional response, or an inspiration and I was blank. Not blank as in open to the spirit...just blank.
I had one child in First Day School and we talked about the readings and his reaction to the readings. I found myself explaining the readings as a story that was fictional. With a level of avoidance that I can't remember experiencing before. Our discussion led into the perception of good and bad which was more comfortable for me.
I ran the egg hunt for the younger classroom...that was fun. We even had a squirrel open some of the plastic eggs and steal the treats inside.
At home I had 3 of my four home and they watched a movie together while I worked on homework assignments and grading for my bio class. Greg was at the accountants completing our taxes. We played scrabble and cooked dinner. It was all ordinary. It just didn't feel like a holiday or a holy day. I am not sure if this is good or bad. I don't want to become secular, but I also resonate with the Quaker belief that all days are holy.
Anyway, the bottom line is that I must be at an emotionally stable period...not able to be swept away.
Is that a good thing or a bad?
Love and Light,
Maggie
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Spring
Thinking about turtles, which have that convenient shell, and it's so easy to pull inside and be - invisible and even invincible. But in your dream, the turtle was safe. He could doze, didn't have to retract. Really positive sign, I think. And puppies are just joy...not sure why a conch became a puppy. I do remember reading once that conch is a good nutritional source of gold. And a calm ocean - water is all about emotion. I think you are at peace for the moment. Enjoy it!
We had sunshine today. It has been so long since we have had a sunny day, that I was beginning to believe that it would be overcast forever. I half think the light deprivation is the reason so many of us have been sick, over and over all winter long. I hung clothes outside, I cleaned gardens. I have sore muscles tonight. It feels great!
It finally feels like spring, like rebirth, like resurrection. I am tired, yet joyful!
I hope you all have a happy Easter. Our celebration will be combined with my grandson;s birthday!
Love to you,
Clare
We had sunshine today. It has been so long since we have had a sunny day, that I was beginning to believe that it would be overcast forever. I half think the light deprivation is the reason so many of us have been sick, over and over all winter long. I hung clothes outside, I cleaned gardens. I have sore muscles tonight. It feels great!
It finally feels like spring, like rebirth, like resurrection. I am tired, yet joyful!
I hope you all have a happy Easter. Our celebration will be combined with my grandson;s birthday!
Love to you,
Clare
The Turtle and the Puppy
You are right about the sexy...
just because we are female we must want "it"
I also find it frustrating that once you "belong" to a man most men respect that boundary
You've said this before, but we deserve respect with or without a man.
I still cannot recall that hospitalization...that is so telling of our connection to each other.
So Easter is tomorrow...a time of renewal...rebirth
I hope that this coming year continues to be a rebirth for us...and all who need that.
So I had another dream last night...very strange because it had a turtle in it.
I don't think I remember dreaming turtles before.
I was walking on a quiet beach and came across a dozing turtle...it was big, like a sea turtle.
I stopped and looked at it, it raised its head, blinked a few times and then went back to sleep. It didn't pull into its shell. I walked away and saw a sand coloered conch shell moving towards the turtle, so I turned around and watched it move. It's movement changed from a crawling to a bounding and it morphed into a sand colered puppy. So I picked it up and walked away...both of us seemed content.
I am working on three projects for class as well as my research so I am somewhat burnt-out. Sorry
...
Love and Light,
Maggie
just because we are female we must want "it"
I also find it frustrating that once you "belong" to a man most men respect that boundary
You've said this before, but we deserve respect with or without a man.
I still cannot recall that hospitalization...that is so telling of our connection to each other.
So Easter is tomorrow...a time of renewal...rebirth
I hope that this coming year continues to be a rebirth for us...and all who need that.
So I had another dream last night...very strange because it had a turtle in it.
I don't think I remember dreaming turtles before.
I was walking on a quiet beach and came across a dozing turtle...it was big, like a sea turtle.
I stopped and looked at it, it raised its head, blinked a few times and then went back to sleep. It didn't pull into its shell. I walked away and saw a sand coloered conch shell moving towards the turtle, so I turned around and watched it move. It's movement changed from a crawling to a bounding and it morphed into a sand colered puppy. So I picked it up and walked away...both of us seemed content.
I am working on three projects for class as well as my research so I am somewhat burnt-out. Sorry
...
Love and Light,
Maggie
define sexy
Your dream was powerful. We don't have to be silent. We can ask for help. We, as women, and as products of a dysfunctional home, don't have to be ashamed and believe we deserve to be used. We can make a little noise, ask for help. Just as I was opening this to respond, I saw our subtitle - We speak. Maybe that is the simple point of what we're doing here. Learning to speak...and, of course, saving the world...
When I was attacked, I acted like prey. I remember reading a story about an arrogant neighborhood tomcat. Everyone in his range disliked him. One day a raptor of some sort dove out of the sky and caught him and started to ascend, dinner in hand. But the cat fought back, struggling, trying to reach the bird. It seemed the bird was as shocked as the cat, and dropped him in midair. The moral of the story was that the cat was less arrogant. But what I understood is that prey animals meekly submit to being devoured. When a hawk catches a rabbit, it hangs there, accepting its fate. They understand their role is to be food, to be a resource, I guess, for a predator. And I was prey.
In your dream, you became something new...new to me, maybe...something that was neither predator nor prey. You reached out for your community. Maybe this is the new place to which we are evolving.
B#2 must have been 16 when he was left behind in the hospital. He had an asthma attack resulting in a tear in the lung tissue. When I think back, I wonder how he got home, or if they just left him there until they got back.
S#3 has told me stories about things Mom has said to her. These are our stories, and we don't have the right to share hers, but in brief - Mom identified S#3 as promiscuous, and therefore bad, at an early age, and treated her as less valuable than the rest of us. That makes me think Mom knew there was sexual abuse happening, but she blamed the victim.
I know a woman who was raped by her stepfather beginning at age 4. It was her fault for being too sexy and suggestive. She wanted it. People actually believe this. A beautiful young woman was raped by her mother's best friend's husband when she was a young teen. She was too sexy and suggestive. She wanted it. I want to scream. People actually believe this. Maybe sexy is defined as having a vagina.
She had a vagina, it was her fault.
I don't know why our parents valued some of us and not others. Dad valued B#2 until he started getting in trouble as a teen. He did not value Bs#1&3. I wonder if that's a difference. Being sexually abused by someone who detests you in general fits. All interactions are humiliating and painful. But being sexually abused by someone who appears to value you must be difficult. The authority figure is accepting and sort of loving, then the authority figure causes great pain. May explain why B#2 psyche was more shredded than the other boys'.
When I was in eighth grade, I had daily conversations with a friend. We enumerated the ways we could tell that our fathers hated us. The lists were logical and correct. But, of course, fathers don't hate their children. They love and value them, no matter what it looks like!
We actually have sunshine today. I am so excited! I woke up without a plan for the day - which I also love - and now I know I will be spending much of the day outside! I need to absorb some sunlight...my soul has been longing for the Light!
Sunny joy to you today,
Clare
When I was attacked, I acted like prey. I remember reading a story about an arrogant neighborhood tomcat. Everyone in his range disliked him. One day a raptor of some sort dove out of the sky and caught him and started to ascend, dinner in hand. But the cat fought back, struggling, trying to reach the bird. It seemed the bird was as shocked as the cat, and dropped him in midair. The moral of the story was that the cat was less arrogant. But what I understood is that prey animals meekly submit to being devoured. When a hawk catches a rabbit, it hangs there, accepting its fate. They understand their role is to be food, to be a resource, I guess, for a predator. And I was prey.
In your dream, you became something new...new to me, maybe...something that was neither predator nor prey. You reached out for your community. Maybe this is the new place to which we are evolving.
B#2 must have been 16 when he was left behind in the hospital. He had an asthma attack resulting in a tear in the lung tissue. When I think back, I wonder how he got home, or if they just left him there until they got back.
S#3 has told me stories about things Mom has said to her. These are our stories, and we don't have the right to share hers, but in brief - Mom identified S#3 as promiscuous, and therefore bad, at an early age, and treated her as less valuable than the rest of us. That makes me think Mom knew there was sexual abuse happening, but she blamed the victim.
I know a woman who was raped by her stepfather beginning at age 4. It was her fault for being too sexy and suggestive. She wanted it. People actually believe this. A beautiful young woman was raped by her mother's best friend's husband when she was a young teen. She was too sexy and suggestive. She wanted it. I want to scream. People actually believe this. Maybe sexy is defined as having a vagina.
She had a vagina, it was her fault.
I don't know why our parents valued some of us and not others. Dad valued B#2 until he started getting in trouble as a teen. He did not value Bs#1&3. I wonder if that's a difference. Being sexually abused by someone who detests you in general fits. All interactions are humiliating and painful. But being sexually abused by someone who appears to value you must be difficult. The authority figure is accepting and sort of loving, then the authority figure causes great pain. May explain why B#2 psyche was more shredded than the other boys'.
When I was in eighth grade, I had daily conversations with a friend. We enumerated the ways we could tell that our fathers hated us. The lists were logical and correct. But, of course, fathers don't hate their children. They love and value them, no matter what it looks like!
We actually have sunshine today. I am so excited! I woke up without a plan for the day - which I also love - and now I know I will be spending much of the day outside! I need to absorb some sunlight...my soul has been longing for the Light!
Sunny joy to you today,
Clare
Thursday, March 28, 2013
leaky memory...
The article caused a shift in my thoughts...I hadn't ever thought of using politically incorrect terms to describe the real violence that occurs within our homes and relationships. It is a form of torture and should be called by its name. I am finding more and more support for the "violence is violence no matter what level it occurs on".
I really believe that the government funds all of these separate entities as a way of keeping them divided...
United we stand, divided we fall.
Perhaps "me too" needs to exist on the individual level as well as a societal level...perhaps we should begin to appreciate our similarities instead of focusing on our differences. That doesn't mean that we hide our unique characteristics...we bring those to the table to increase the depth of understanding and create meaningful solutions.
I am helping a DV shelter/Rape crisis center develop an 8 week program for high school students. I am responsible for the internet lessons- Sexting and Cyberbullying...I am so thrilled to be able to juxtapose these two issues and show their similarities and hopefully allow the students to see the common threads.
It's funny, I don't remember B#2 missing vacation for a hospitalization...I am wracking my brain and cannot come up with that memory. Why does that escape me and yet I can remember most of the shit that S#3 went throughout? Does that have to do with our age differences or did I not care that he wasn't along?
When I think about the summers at home with the boys I am amazed and appalled that we were left like that...
Parties way too frequently...
Teenage boys all over the house...
Drugs and alcohol...we are lucky that we are alive really.
I have always felt that the parents were just giving up...they were tired and couldn't muster the energy or the "give a damn" to be protective...like the song, "My give-a-damn's busted"...or maybe we weren't worth protecting...they took the two youngest along...maybe that's one of the reasons that they both feel as if we grew up in different families...maybe they were cherished and nurtured...I find it hard to believe that the parents could have rallied...but maybe they consciously or unconsciously valued them more...maybe I and S#3 were already unworthy...even though they deny knowing anything about the abuse...I should say Mom denies it, Dad has never talked to me about any of this, but then again I haven't given him an opportunity either.
I had a dream last night...I was in a room with 2 men, one older and one younger. They were dressed as Middle Easterners...and I became acutely aware of being watched...that I was alone with these two and that although they did not speak they were communicating with each other. I became quite uncomfortable and decided to leave the room, as I moved towards the door the younger man started to slowly close it with his foot. I ran and grabbed the door frame and yelled for help, many people came running to help me. This is one of the only times that I've called for help and had people respond.
I woke up...not in a panic, but comforted that others came when I called.
That's all for now...
Love and Light,
Maggie
I really believe that the government funds all of these separate entities as a way of keeping them divided...
United we stand, divided we fall.
Perhaps "me too" needs to exist on the individual level as well as a societal level...perhaps we should begin to appreciate our similarities instead of focusing on our differences. That doesn't mean that we hide our unique characteristics...we bring those to the table to increase the depth of understanding and create meaningful solutions.
I am helping a DV shelter/Rape crisis center develop an 8 week program for high school students. I am responsible for the internet lessons- Sexting and Cyberbullying...I am so thrilled to be able to juxtapose these two issues and show their similarities and hopefully allow the students to see the common threads.
It's funny, I don't remember B#2 missing vacation for a hospitalization...I am wracking my brain and cannot come up with that memory. Why does that escape me and yet I can remember most of the shit that S#3 went throughout? Does that have to do with our age differences or did I not care that he wasn't along?
When I think about the summers at home with the boys I am amazed and appalled that we were left like that...
Parties way too frequently...
Teenage boys all over the house...
Drugs and alcohol...we are lucky that we are alive really.
I have always felt that the parents were just giving up...they were tired and couldn't muster the energy or the "give a damn" to be protective...like the song, "My give-a-damn's busted"...or maybe we weren't worth protecting...they took the two youngest along...maybe that's one of the reasons that they both feel as if we grew up in different families...maybe they were cherished and nurtured...I find it hard to believe that the parents could have rallied...but maybe they consciously or unconsciously valued them more...maybe I and S#3 were already unworthy...even though they deny knowing anything about the abuse...I should say Mom denies it, Dad has never talked to me about any of this, but then again I haven't given him an opportunity either.
I had a dream last night...I was in a room with 2 men, one older and one younger. They were dressed as Middle Easterners...and I became acutely aware of being watched...that I was alone with these two and that although they did not speak they were communicating with each other. I became quite uncomfortable and decided to leave the room, as I moved towards the door the younger man started to slowly close it with his foot. I ran and grabbed the door frame and yelled for help, many people came running to help me. This is one of the only times that I've called for help and had people respond.
I woke up...not in a panic, but comforted that others came when I called.
That's all for now...
Love and Light,
Maggie
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Lurking in the safety of my web!
Oh my God, you are about to graduate. It doesn't seem like it's time yet! I was thinking about your latest degree, and it came to me that these are tools. You can change the world with these tools. This is very exciting!
I remember another vacation that was delayed because S#3 broke her front teeth. She is still in pain because of that. And I remember once B#2 was in the hospital, but everyone went on vacation anyway and just left him there. I had to work, so I didn't go. Mom asked me to visit him at least once or twice. It's a wonder we can function at all! I still get angry when I remember them taking the little girls to the cabin and leaving you and S#3, as young teens, at the mercy of the older teen boys. No wonder I was such an overprotective pain in the backside with my kids. Overcompensating! Too bad it doesn't leak through and change the family...
I am glad that you recognize the pain in the hips as connected to sexual abuse. While I was reading your paragraph, I realized that I clench my jaws. I wondered why. Probably to keep from screaming!
I was also thinking about the power of invisibility. And I was thinking about the way spiders hide, and wait and watch. Maybe that is why I associate with them. Being vulnerable means being seen. I think about the Catholic modesty that was pounded into us right from those earliest days when we learned that girls are bad. We were supposed to keep our bodies covered, so as not to tempt men - because if we did whatever happened next was our fault. We were taught to keep our minds/our intelligence covered, because that was the strength and talent of the boys. We were taught to keep our opinions to ourselves. It seems that invisibility is the female way to avoid vulnerability. Thinking about boys, they had the other side - they had to be tough, cool, never let the veneer slip. They always had to have the answer, always had to be ready to defend. It destroyed them, but maybe created a sense of entitlement.
I think I also use my silence and invisibility to gauge what is happening, to decide if I am in a safe place, and maybe to be a chameleon. I even do it among Friends...
Not sure where I am going with this...it's just sort of emerging.
One more thought - I was forced to be invisible, but now I pull invisibility on. I purposely disappear. Sometimes I think I am the Cheshire Cat...
Did you have a chance to read the article I included in my last post? One strong point stays with me. We use euphemisms to whitewash problems. Maybe that's why your colleagues (or potential colleagues) can't agree on the commonality of their work. But I think we should stop saying domestic violence and start calling it wife torture, or child torture, or husband torture. Let's use the jarring, emotional, messy words. Let's stop distancing ourselves.
Just found out that a dear friend's cancer has returned after a 3 year remission. I am shaky and scared and sad. Maybe that's why I am rambling today.
I love you!!
Clare
I remember another vacation that was delayed because S#3 broke her front teeth. She is still in pain because of that. And I remember once B#2 was in the hospital, but everyone went on vacation anyway and just left him there. I had to work, so I didn't go. Mom asked me to visit him at least once or twice. It's a wonder we can function at all! I still get angry when I remember them taking the little girls to the cabin and leaving you and S#3, as young teens, at the mercy of the older teen boys. No wonder I was such an overprotective pain in the backside with my kids. Overcompensating! Too bad it doesn't leak through and change the family...
I am glad that you recognize the pain in the hips as connected to sexual abuse. While I was reading your paragraph, I realized that I clench my jaws. I wondered why. Probably to keep from screaming!
I was also thinking about the power of invisibility. And I was thinking about the way spiders hide, and wait and watch. Maybe that is why I associate with them. Being vulnerable means being seen. I think about the Catholic modesty that was pounded into us right from those earliest days when we learned that girls are bad. We were supposed to keep our bodies covered, so as not to tempt men - because if we did whatever happened next was our fault. We were taught to keep our minds/our intelligence covered, because that was the strength and talent of the boys. We were taught to keep our opinions to ourselves. It seems that invisibility is the female way to avoid vulnerability. Thinking about boys, they had the other side - they had to be tough, cool, never let the veneer slip. They always had to have the answer, always had to be ready to defend. It destroyed them, but maybe created a sense of entitlement.
I think I also use my silence and invisibility to gauge what is happening, to decide if I am in a safe place, and maybe to be a chameleon. I even do it among Friends...
Not sure where I am going with this...it's just sort of emerging.
One more thought - I was forced to be invisible, but now I pull invisibility on. I purposely disappear. Sometimes I think I am the Cheshire Cat...
Did you have a chance to read the article I included in my last post? One strong point stays with me. We use euphemisms to whitewash problems. Maybe that's why your colleagues (or potential colleagues) can't agree on the commonality of their work. But I think we should stop saying domestic violence and start calling it wife torture, or child torture, or husband torture. Let's use the jarring, emotional, messy words. Let's stop distancing ourselves.
Just found out that a dear friend's cancer has returned after a 3 year remission. I am shaky and scared and sad. Maybe that's why I am rambling today.
I love you!!
Clare
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