Shifting Paradigms: Unsteady Ground

I will admit that at times I am jealous, tired, sad, and resentful and when I get these feelings, or emotions, they tend to cluster together and feel overwhelming. I know that they will pass, but I also wonder what they are trying to tell me? How do I sit with these feelings and not just want to stay in bed and cry? Who in the wide world of sports wants to know that I’m suffering in this way? My children definitely don’t, and my friends, well, they usually come to me with their issues. I know though, that I’m not alone. In the New York Times Bestseller, “Are You My Mother?”, writer Alison Bechdel shares poignantly about her own envy saying, “I was suffering at this time from nearly unbearable spasms of professional envy.” I feel this way when I read about women like Arianna Huffington publishing yet another book. And I tell myself, “This is the old paradigm, this is the paradigm that says there is not enough, or that if Huffington has so much, there is none left over for you, if Huffington is espousing mindfulness, why should you bother.” And in this paradigm, “How” I ask myself “can I compete?”

In my new paradigm, I know that there is no need to compete. This doesn’t sit with the research I’ve found that says women drop out of competition even when they are worthy of the task. Do we compete then, or not compete? Or do we trust the universe? Is it masculine power to compete? Femine power to trust? For me, in my understanding of trusting the universe, I don’t have to compete, I just have to show up and the universe will usher me into the next place in my life. I am trying to make sense of some of this with my own therapist, who has been really helpful, but I’m not sure he understands the different paradigm I’m trying to shift into. We can call this “laws of attraction”, “abundance”, or whatever this is, where all of our emotions are good, and we learn from them, and we trust in abundance rather than lack. I feel very alone lately in my trying to make sense of this.   

In Bechdel’s story, she is seeing her own therapist, who replies, “All this makes me think that in your own family there wasn’t enough room under one roof for several geniuses.” And that is sort of how I feel, only, it’s not just in my own family, it’s in the world, and it’s also the fear that perhaps I’m not really a genius at all, just a want-to-be writer, just a little girl who didn’t have a voice growing up, who wants to be heard. I don’t actually even want to be a genius--whatever that is, as much as I want to have a place of belonging, which is a more accurate description of what was missing for me growing up. There was no-one in my family even aware of what it might mean to be intellectual, to be curious, to have a desire for more of life; and so, in my bookishness I felt odd and alone. My middle daughter Erin, put it sweetly once, when she said I was like Roald Dahl’s Matilda. 

I worry, too, about what I write about. As my daughter, Kathleen is writing her own memoir, she is writing about her disconnect from me, and I wonder, is my focusing on my own lack in my growing up just continuing to show up? I had hoped to have provided a place for my daughters where I felt no place as a child, and maybe in my own striving to not be my mother, I still was my mother. This makes me feel so hopeless. Yet, I also know, that whatever it takes for my daughter to make sense of her own life, I want for her. 

Maybe I’m the one who wonders if there is room for lots of people to have their voice, to have their emotions, to have their genius. Often, I struggle with playing down who I am, what I’ve done, what I know, maybe believing that I need to let others share and shine. I wonder, as my daughter writes, if I still need to write, want to write? Can I just pass on the torch or is my voice still valid? She tells me that when wisdom comes it is not us, that we need to get out of the way; but I want to own my wisdom, I felt so much of wisdom was forbidden to me as a child, forbidden to me as a woman, that the wisdom I feel I have is hardwon, and to say it comes from some universal good feels like all I've done will be taken away from me, yet a part of me believes she is right, too. As I want to normalize and understand all of our humaness, all of our emotions, I struggle with what emotions are ok to share only with loved ones, and which to share with the world. I was brought up that way. There were always so many secrets, so many things to keep private, so many things that were hidden away that the burden of it all became too heavy. Finally, the door that these things were behind became unhinged, and it all fell out onto the floor, into the light of day. Here I am, so imperfect, yet so willing to keep trying, to keep loving, to keep showing up, without trying. As my paradigm shifts, do I recognize my own voice? 

As my paradigm shifts can I allow Huffington to be who she is without comparing myself, can I read the unparalleled genius of Bechdel and still feel like I too want to contribute? Can I let my daughter's voice tell of all of our struggles to love each other and still feel loved? I want to believe it can be so. 

Very Small Vacation Part II: Simple Twist of Fate

So on my small weekend vacation up North, I never did get my ass on a horse. Instead, I twisted and sprained my ankle. Nearly right away, nearly as soon as I got there. A simple twist of fate, perhaps. I simply was stepping out the door to go get some groceries for the weekend, and didn’t notice the small step right outside the front door of my sister-in-law’s home. So other things happened. Later that day, I did take a boat ride, walked down the hill to the lake, very gingerly, and pressed forward in spite of the pain, but the next day, when riding was scheduled, my ankle was much too swollen, so my nephew drove me around the Alexandria lakes area while the rest of the family went riding. 

Strangely, my sister-in-law was worried I would sue her over the fall. This was really weird to me, since I’d never even have thought of it if she hadn’t brought it up, at least a couple of times. But this reminded me that my whole family has issues around trust. This is sad. This was the part of the vacation that worried me, wondering if I could feel safe enough to relax around my extended family. Wondering how to listen to the stories and not feel overwhelmed. Like hearing from my niece that she held it against my mom that my brother never really liked Christmas; all because of the infamous Christmas when my mom pulled down the Christmas tree in a rage at us kids. She wondered if I’d remembered that Christmas. Of course I did, how would you forget that? I don't even remember how old I was, maybe 6 or 8, and my mom simply had a meltdown, and yelled that if it was so much fun to wreck things, she'd do it too. She pulled over the Christmas tree and started throwing things. It was terrifying and all of us we were trying so hard to tell her we were sorry. My mom wanted so badly to have a picture perfect life, which, of course was impossible with 8 kids. I grew up with this horrible thought that we kids wrecked my mom's life. It was odd to have this very private memory shared. 

It was also a little odd (and touching) that my sister-in-law keeps the radio on in the garage constantly, to remind her of my brother. It is on an ‘oldies’ station, that he always listened to. I came to understand that we all grieve and remember in our own ways. I also came away with understanding how having fun can be interwoven with other thoughts and emotions. In my family, my mother was very judging of people having fun, so having fun for me became an exercise in telling myself it was ok to have fun. I had to untangle emotions and values and beliefs that were prohibiting me from relaxing, especially with my family. It’s really hard to have fun when you don’t feel safe. 

Yet, all in all, it was a good getaway. My oldest and youngest daughters were able to spend time together in a way they never had; my grandson Max, swam across the entire lake with one of his cousins, and had an awesome time fishing, swimming and boating. I came away with a great bottle of wine from Carlos Creek Winery. My sister-in-law and her family could share their memories of my brother with someone who knew him well, who shared his family stories, no matter how bitter. I was able to somehow put to rest the regret I’d felt, when he was dying, that I hadn’t trusted my brother enough to take him up on his offer, when he was alive, to bring my kids and grandkids up to go boating and fishing.

Maybe next year I'll get on a horse. 

Broken Agreements

How do we decide which agreement to keep and which to break? I realize now, that for a really long time, I measured myself, and therefore others, I’m sure, too, on how they kept their agreements with credit card companies. Did you make your monthly payment? Check. On time? Check. This makes you a good citizen, successful, right? Not that I haven’t know plenty of people who have had problems paying bills on time, off and on, I’ve been one of them. But since my divorce (an agreement to stay married which I didn’t keep); I’ve been patting myself on the back around fiscal issues, even though I’ve struggled with them. I’ve still not recovered from the loss of my equity in my home, another agreement, a social one, that homes don’t lose value, that was broken not by me, but by others. 

So, who gets to decide what to abide by, what not to abide by, and why? As I walked around Lake Harriet today, I saw two guys walking 18 dogs between them. It was pretty amazing actually, how they’d get all the dogs to stop and wait while just one of the dogs had to, you know, drop something. A jogger smiled and said to another, “I’d like that job.” And it made me think, that wow, I like my job, and it also made me wonder, what if, when children are young, we told them, “You get to do whatever you want to do with your life and the universe will support you. It’s that easy.” Because really, and truly, it is that easy. But we make it hard. We tell kids all the time that life is hard, and school sucks, but we had to do it, and work is just a part of life, and paying bills, and making agreements and pretty soon this kid is all caught up in anxiety, just like we are. 

I am deciding now which agreements to make and break and keep, and even wondering why we have to make agreements and commitments and why can’t we just do what we want, all the time? Seriously, all the time. Because you know what, that is what we do. We make agreements with ourself to stay bitter, we make agreements to stay small, we make agreements not to ‘rock the boat.’ We make bitter, crazy, agreements all the time, and then we hold ourselves to them. Like the agreement to believe that if everybody just did what they wanted the world would be a mess. I'd like to see. Maybe agreements should just last through the day, like, for today, I will still be angry as a way to protect myself. For today I will go to this job I hate, but maybe tomorrow I’ll craft a plan for something different. For today I will love all the people I encounter, and do this day by day, until I realize I do have enough love, every day. Making agreements I agree with, that’s what I do, now. 

Very Small Vacation

It’s been a while since I’ve felt like writing. I’ve been out of classes now for months, and I’ve been putting my energy into building my practice and actually taking care of myself. I do still have the ‘aha’ thoughts, that make me think I should write about that thought, but then I’m lost in the upswing of everything else that is my life. Like still being the mom to three beautiful women, and the Bubbe to three beautiful grandchildren, and feeling fortunate that I live near them all. 

But right now, it is 6:28 am, and it is a beautifully still and quiet morning considering that I live right in the city, considering that my neighborhood continues to become more and more noisy and congested all the time. I am almost pulled into a trance, where I want to just listen to the birds, listen to the random car driving on the usually busy avenue, listen for the nearly autumn breeze that is stirring, just around the corner. 

Today, I am driving up North with Kathleen and Max, and Megan. We are going to visit my sister-in-law for an overnight, and we’re going horseback riding today. I am both psyched and a little scared, and I’m trying to ignore the scared part. At first, I was like, “Hey sure, you all can ride horse, and I’ll stay by the lake and read a book.” And then I was like, (to myself), “Really, you are going to be that person?” That person, meaning, the person who doesn’t get out there and join in, and do the fun things that they secretly pine about not being able to do. (Or outwardly whine about not being able to do.) 

So, no, I’m not going to be that person. I’m going to go down into my basement soon, and look for some boots, suitable for riding, and I’m going to sit my ass on a horse, and I’m going to have fun, even if I am a little scared, nervous, excited, because I can feel all those things and not let them stop me from having fun with my family. But first, I’m going to go down the block to the new donut shop and buy donuts for breakfast, because we are on a very small, starting right now, vacation. 

The Myth or Ode to Love

The forced intimacy of sharing my womb

when I was used to having some alone time

for nine whole months we shared my body

my blood

my food and water

and we grew

I did not know what sort of chemical bath

my brain was bathed in

the endorphins that surged through

my body when we were together

when my breasts became your sustenance

your breath became my joy

And so the usual path that I’d taken in the past

to be avoidant to be alone to make my friendships

in literature not life took a turn

perhaps even a fork

and the path became peopled 

with emotions I’d dared not greet 

Your existence became a constant adventure

a challenge a seeking

a flashlight on my shadow self

your emotions raw and rash

and bold and daring

more colorful and bright than I could have imagined

I had bits of memory come floating back

of hiding in the bathroom

of crying on the stairwell

of feeling so alone I thought my being 

would shatter

of being the child you had become 

And books again became my path

only this time not to be alone

but to find the answers

on how to be together

how to turn avoidant anxious

to secure not for me but for you

You had become all I cared about

learning to create the alchemy of love

that had been missing

the space for emotion

that I did not know existed

the language of acceptance that I’d never heard 

The time was running out

the years flew by

you grew up

so quickly

I was Sisyphus

pushing the rock uphill for the sin of deceit

I lived long enough 

to understand

to let you go

to learn to love

on your own 

never forgetting the lessons you brought

There is enough

the gravest deceit is against ourselves

against those we love

against the very nature

of who we are more than flesh and blood 

the rock dissolved against the mountain  

Truth in Advertising

There’s been some noise out there about Facebook manipulating their user’s emotions. Imagine that, people manipulating other people’s emotions. Is that fair, right, ethical? Maybe we should ask ourselves, is this anything new? Or even, how can we protect ourselves from this manipulation in the first place? 

We in the US, (and other countries as well, perhaps) have been influenced (manipulated) for years into believing and acting upon certain beliefs and values. An enlightened view can come from looking critically at the work of Edward Bernays. Edward Bernays was a nephew of Sigmund Freud, influenced by Freud, and someone who had top-level connections in the US during the early part of the 20th century. You can find his book Propaganda (1928), in most bookstores. This is a quote from his book, “The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country.” According to Wikipedia; Bernays's vision was of a utopian society in which individuals' dangerous libidinal energies, the psychic and emotional energy associated with instinctual biological drives that Bernays viewed as inherently dangerous given his observation of societies like the Germans under Hitler, could be harnessed and channeled by a corporate elite for economic benefit.

So, since at least 1928, there has been a construct around the idea of manipulating people to conform to behavior by “harnessing” psychic and emotional energy. This is based on outdated views of human in general, and emotional energy in particular. In some ways, we have come very far in understanding human emotions, and in some cases, researchers are now able to confirm some emotions in animals as well. We know now that emotional energy is not dangerous, but essential, and advantageous to us as a species. But it seems to take a long time for information accepted and proven by researchers to reach the general public, most likely because their forte is understanding human behavior, not manipulating it. 

Let me help you out here a bit. Your emotions are not dangerous, and having emotions does not make you overly emotional, feminine, or neurotic. Having emotions makes you human. Most of us however, have very little understanding of our own, or other people’s emotions, making us feel at best nervous, and at worst isolated, when it comes to connecting with ourselves and each other around our feeling states. Many of us have been conditioned to have shame around one, some, or all of our emotions, and this shame feels so terrible, that we often never get through it to let ourselves even feel what we need to feel. 

I say need to feel, because that is what our emotions are for, feeling them, accepting them, understanding the information they bring to bear on the situation for us. If, for example, your understanding of anger is that it is bad, this might make you feel like you are a bad person every time you feel anger. This is not true, anger in and of itself is not bad, and we all feel anger. Yes, you, even the person who says, “I never get angry.” Because you do, you just aren’t letting yourself feel it or express it. Maybe you grew up in a home where anger was expressed in hurtful and violent ways, and you are fortunate enough to have learned how not to express this emotion this way, this doesn’t mean, however, that you aren’t ever feeling anger. Anger does not equal violence or even road rage, these are behaviors, not emotions. 

Being disconnected from emotions isn’t just about managing what some might still refer to as “negative” emotions. No emotions are negative, some might just feel better than others. Unfortunately, we can learn to disconnect from our emotions, even our love, even our joy. If trying to become rational and logical, in the mistaken belief that our emotions are a hindrance, we can not just shut down anger and fear but in this belief, we also shut down love, joy, and the connection to others that emotions create. 

And so, what this is leading to is the belief that I hold, that as we connect and learn from our emotions, we limit the possibility that anyone or anything else can manipulate us at all. We become solid, we become impenetrable, and we realize that in feeling our feelings and integrating them into our selves, we no longer have the need for barriers that protect us from being manipulated (having our “buttons” pushed). And in this connection, we connect to others in our love and joy and freedom, unhindered by the messages of propaganda. 

Many, many, enlightened people live in the space of knowing the systems that are in place that try to manipulate and control, but don’t know how to create a sense of self that rises about this propaganda. It’s complicated, but it’s not impossible. I have truly found that in compassion for ourselves and others, we create a different energy that blocks out the bad karma that can come from feeling trapped in systems that perpetuate outdated beliefs about who we are as humans. 

I struggled in writing this, not wanting to get stuck myself in that bad juju of erroneous beliefs. It’s easier for me most times to meditate, or listen to music, or surround myself with the energy of magic, of body and mind and heart integrated, or find or create art, which arises from the connection of reason and romance. Instead of being on Facebook, I can enjoy created masterpieces from enlightened poets and artists and craftsman who found their whole self and joy, and in this joy created that which continues to bring forth joy. This is why art is so important, it is proof of our humanity which is integrated, holy, and provides evidence that this is possible, it pronounces who we are, and not who we are not. 

I don't want to fight the propaganda, or Facebook, or get angry at something so big that it makes me feel helpless. This doesn't serve me, but what I can do,  is use this anger at propaganda to fuel my words, to tell a different story, to use my voice to suggest to others that they too, might find their wholeness, their holiness, might find their joy. Find your own truth, and you will need no advertising. 

Loving Your Little Weirdo Self

When was the last time you acknowledged to yourself that you still are carrying around the feelings of that little weirdo self you once were? Living with kids helps you remember and connect, if you’re self aware enough, and lucky enough to be able to talk about this weird stuff with someone, but all serious, scientific talk aside, you know, those articles about being vulnerable, this is what it boils down to. At one point, we were all vulnerable, totally dependent on our caregivers to nurture us enough to keep us alive, and we are all, to one extent or another, living the messages that we received and internalized about how to keep the love comin. 

Once we got this down, and made it to the real world, like maybe first grade, (whew, remember kindergarten graduation?) we were less vulnerable enough to wander the world alone. And for me, and for all three of my daughters, and I’m guessing for you too, these worlds of lawless hallways were filled with kids who asked questions like, “Where did you get those shoes (fill in with glasses, hair, etc.)?” The questions that made you feel like something was maybe wrong with you, but you weren’t sure what. What, what, you’d wonder were wrong with your green tennis shoes? 

And so, without ever really knowing what was wrong, or even what could make this right, we meander our way through life. And eventually we might even accomplish enough things to make us feel like most of the things about us are alright, maybe even ‘normal.’ But there can still linger than weird feeling, that makes us feel unsure, unsteady, that slight worry, that maybe we are a weirdo. I’ve met up with my little weirdo self this morning. The tiny little girl with crazy blond curls that everyone thought was still 3 or 4 when she was actually 5 or 6. Try trying to convince an adult that you only really just look like a toddler, geez. That older kid who had a dad who drank too much, who had a mother who chased her siblings in the yard with a wooden spoon, and who yearned for a quiet life of books and music. Guess what I told her, “Hey, you know, I love you, and so do a lot of other people, and you’re turning out just fine, sure, a little weird sometimes, but we all are, and that’s really ok.” It is ok.