Guidance

I don’t know when I stopped asking my Guides and Guardian Spirits for guidance.  I didn’t stop consciously for some reason, I just stopped and only realized it when a lot of time had gone by.  Recently I was with friends, and I started to feel this “buzz” inside.  A good word for it is “activation,” a jolt of adrenaline.  I couldn’t feel it as fear, or anger, or excitement, but I was finding it uncomfortable.  So I softened around it, and then relaxed around the softening, but it didn’t change.  That always makes me feel like I’m doing it wrong.  So I asked for help.  Divine Process started answering before I had even formulated my question

Tuesday
Divine Process, I really need your help.  I don’t know what this buzz is inside         — the buzz is all the fear of people who will lose their health insurance, and the ones who are afraid of being deported, and all the people who are scared in these dark times.  Softening around it is the exact right thing to do.  Finding compassion for all those scared people is the right thing to do.  You are doing fine just the way you are.
Thank You.

It did help to know what the buzz was about.  I can hold a frightened child, or a whole crowd of scared people, but I can’t seem to hold the fear if I see it as my own.  In this case, the fear didn’t go away, but I was able to hold it with compassion.

Thursday
Divine Process, please help me.  I remind myself that I did do the Vitacost order, I did call John about the plowing, I did pay a bill and look up my balance online.  (good for me!)  I think there’s limit to how many hard things I can do in a day.

Divine Process, please help me.    I am with you all the time, even though you can’t feel my presence.  I love you very much and I feel your pain.  You are doing very well with this extremely hard task.  You are actually healing a very deep and wounded part of yourself.  You are with her as I am with you.  I know you are scared and angry that you are not “getting anywhere.”  It’s not about “getting” somewhere, it’s about being present.  Being present to extreme pain — and the pain that baby feels is intolerable, that’s why she was traumatized — is very difficult.  You are doing well with it.  Keep on as you have begun.  Remember that you are loved and cherished infinitely and forever.
Thank You.

Music in my head right now is American Prayer — “and this is the ground that keeps our feet from getting wet…”  I need grounding.  I need something under me that I can stand on.  The “floor” that I once found in Somatic Experiencing doesn’t seem to be there now.

Again I asked for help, and the first answer just came into my mind.  The second answer was the voice of Divine Process.  The third answer was in the song, a message from my subconscious.  I’ve begun to see songs as synchronicities, as “postcards from God.”

Friday
O Divine Process please guide me through this day.  Thank You, Divine Process that I woke up OK.  I was able to lie in bed for 30 minutes, praying to Divine Process, asking for loving kindness, mind drifting off but not upset about it, listening to the Silence.

Saturday
Divine Process, I feeling sad and scared and pretty bummed out.  I need help.
Dear Jenny, the world is much bigger than the Trump idiocy.  The planet will survive, you know that.  Your love for the planet helps even when you can’t do anything more.  Positive energy is real, complex self-organization is real, many dimensions and beings that inhabit them are real.  The planet you love is protected by many non-corporeal beings.  You are doing your part in the effort to heal the planet and create a real democracy, that works for all the people.  There are many many others who have picked up the challenge and become active.  You do not need to do more than you are already doing.  Remember you are loved and cherished totally, there is nothing you can do wrong, and there is nothing to fear.
Thank You.

Posted in Guidance, Journal, Present Day, Spirit | Comments Off on Guidance

Resistance to Feeling My Pain

Saturday, January 14

Woke up early feeling scared.  Not terror — this is ordinary scared.  In fact I’m starting to wonder if how I’ve been feeling the last couple of days isn’t how I used to feel all the time.

Erica told me yesterday about a poor little traumatized puppy who froze when people came near, felt like a stone.  I think I must have been stiff when she sat there with her arm around me.  She said I’m doing well, asking for what I need, noticing things I might not have noticed before.  I don’t know what she means.  I feel like such a failure.

Right now I can feel resistance in my body, though I don’t know what I’m resisting.  I am trying to find compassion for myself, I think that would help a lot.  But I can feel my anger at myself — for being caught in a baby state, for being unable to “shape up” and act like an adult.

I try to step back and find compassion for myself, but all I find is “shame and blame.”  What’s the matter with you?  Why are you telling everyone that you’re “caught in a baby state”?  Asking for help, bothering people.  You think you were so hard done by.  You should be grateful for what you have for god’s sake.  Stop feeling sorry for yourself.  The angry one turns her back and walks away.  I see myself, very young, curled up on the floor and trying to stop crying.  I remember a time when I actually hit myself to make myself stop crying.  I feel my heart soften toward this abandoned child.  I think about the frozen puppy and I just wince away.  I don’t want to think about it.  I have such a hard time when animals are being hurt.  I wonder if I turn away from feeling how much Little Jenny is hurting?  I wonder if this is what I’m resisting?  Or if the resistance I was feeling earlier is resistance to feeling my own pain because it’s too painful?  I think of those waves of intense pain when I pull myself into a crouch, and what I’m really doing is stopping feeling the pain.  I feel the beginnings of compassion for the woman whose pain is so intolerable, for that little girl on the floor trying to stop crying.  I think that pain is so bad that I can only let myself feel it when I’m with Erica.  What’s in the pain?  Grief for never having known what it felt like to be loved, anger at being treated that way, fear of being punished if she speaks.  O yes I can feel compassion for her caught in this tangle of emotions, not daring to speak out about what she is feeling.  Also feeling ashamed that I don’t have the energy to dress up appropriately for this weekend.We are doing our fundraiser for Standing Rock.  I think of wearing black and red, then remember that my black pants are too tight.

O gosh I feel so much sadness for that poor little girl and for the adult woman too, feeling so much pain.

Afterthoughts: The times when I hit myself to make myself stop crying were when I was between 6th grade and 10th grade.  I had stopped doing it when I started writing a journal.  The waves of intense pain pull me into a crouch as a way to express it, the movement of my body is NOT a way to stop feeling.

Posted in Journal, Present Day, Trauma | Comments Off on Resistance to Feeling My Pain

Trying to Integrate the Past

Thursday, January 5

Feeling a little cranky, angry? unhappy?  No, I think there’s anger there.  The old anger “I have worked so hard for so long…”

I’m lost and confused.  I don’t understand what’s going on with me.  I’m not even sure who I am.

So I sat and paid attention to my breathing for a while.  But I just kept feeling more and more sleepy.  So then I thought maybe I should just lie down for a bit.  Then I thought what’s next is to make a second cup of tea and take the things I have to take on an empty stomach — which are the calcium supplements and the iron — and I just don’t want to do any of it.  Then I asked myself how do I know/decide what to do next?  Usually I just follow my routine without questioning.  Then I thought the next thing is to make a second cup of tea and write about all this.

I was thinking that I have lost myself, fallen out of the story of my life, and wouldn’t it be possible to meet the day as a new thing and start to explore what my life is now?  A fresh start.  But it doesn’t feel like a fresh start.  It feels like I’ve crashed and burned and am just lying here in the ruins — no, that’s not the right metaphor — flung from the vehicle as it crashes and burns.  Now, how do I pick up the threads of my life?  What do I want?  What I want is to have some sense of central flow, or a path or a direction.  What would that feel like?  I would feel like I was being carried by something bigger than myself, and that there would be clear guidance for what to do next.

Thinking about my sister reading the 4th July monologue, and going through old pictures with Christia and finding the one of all of us on the terrace for Dad’s 70th birthday, and showing her the Torah of Jenny — thinking of the things left out of the Torah — marriage, divorce, dad’s death…  I see an image of stuff being shaken up, shaken loose, stuff from the past, that’s been all packed together, being shaken up, shaken apart, so I can decide what to keep and what to get rid of.  It’s a time out to deal with the past.  There’s a way in which I never have dealt with it.  I have no positive memories of the past, no good places to revisit.  I’ve always pushed on ahead, trying to get away from the pain, trying to find a life that worked for me, trying to heal those early deep wounds.  I see that I want/need a container, a hospital or a nunnery, where there are other people around, where meals are prepared, so I can stop fighting the daily battle and turn my energy to integrating the past.  I see it as being like traumatized memory, undigested fragments and chunks, no coherent story.  So my job is to construct a meaningful & coherent & usable narrative of my life.

After breakfast.  I see that I took a break from my life by really losing myself in books, but on emerging I don’t feel rested and refreshed, I’m still tired and lost.

What do I want to do.  A question I ask only rarely.  Usually it’s what do I have to do, what’s next on the schedule.  If it could be any way at all?  I’d be part of a group of people, and I’d be OK.

Posted in Journal, Present Day, Trauma | Comments Off on Trying to Integrate the Past

Step One: admitted that my life is unmanageable

Written a month ago, but explains very well what I’m feeling now.

Feeling a little wobbly and a little nauseous.  Gosh — I feel scattered and confused.  What does it need?  A container.  Can’t seem to focus or to collect myself.

Spent most of yesterday reading Rosamunde Pilcher, “Voices in Summer.”  One I hadn’t read before.  I was able to really disappear into it.  Before I talked to Erica I started reading my journal from the beginning of 2016.  That was intense.  So much was going on.  I felt a little overwhelmed with my own life — that’s a little how I’m feeling now.  That my life is bigger than I can contain.  I want to be focused and flowing in some definite channel and instead I’m all over the place.  Perhaps I seriously need to be meditating.

At the beginning of last year I was beginning to get it that the person Erica sees may be closer to who I am, than the person I experience.  I was also reciting “peace, love, etc.”  I see that I start a practice and then lose it, and then start it again…  I don’t know what to do with that.  I need some kind of consistent, daily practice.  Actually I thought this writing  was my practice, but it hadn’t really been working the last few days.  I sit and think odd disjointed partial thoughts and don’t write.

I remember once, when I had gone back and read part of my journal [this was years ago] and I saw how it made a shape, how writing each day its own truth, still resulted in a whole, not a jumble.

I’m feeling like my life has got away from me, and I’m very uncomfortable with this, but some part of me is wondering if I can’t just be with this and not try to figure it out or close it down.  I see that I’m not trusting the process.  I also wonder if, instead of trying to pin it down, I were to look at it as a question of finding out who I am now.

What do I know about this person?  She cares, she cares about the Earth in all its wholeness, she cares about people who are marginalized, treated without compassion, all those who are suffering — I was reading in my journal for January 2016 what Father Greg says about those people.  I feel so much pain for them.  It’s so unjust what is happening.  I care about truth, peace, compassion.  I want to have deep, rich, honest relationships with people.  I want to do good in the world.  That is what’s important.

From January 24, 2016:  I will manage, or I will die.  I will live with integrity and kindness, doing my best to be in the present with compassion.

I think what’s making me feel uncomfortably diffuse is that I’ve stopped trying to keep track of every detail.  Stopped trying to be in control.  No wonder it feels disconcerting.  but I think it’s a very good thing.

David Whyte on anger:  “… the incoherent physical incapacity to sustain this deep form of care in our outer daily life; the unwillingness to be large enough and generous enough to hold what we love helplessly in our bodies or our mind with the clarity and breadth of our whole being.”  I think that describes very well how I’ve been feeling — “incoherent,” “to hold what we love helplessly.”

Posted in Journal, Present Day, Trauma | Comments Off on Step One: admitted that my life is unmanageable

Utterly Defeated by Life

I’m feeling utterly defeated by life.  It takes every scrap of will I have to get up and go through my morning routine.  I no longer do my stretches because I take the dog out during that time.  I’m pretty much non-functional when I’m alone.  I’m triggered into the state of a baby left alone: apathetic and helpless.  Truly helpless.

I’ve been trying to reduce my dose of Ativan because studies have shown that it’s not good for your brain as you get older.  In the last year and a half I’ve managed to get my dose down from 1.0 mg to .25 mg.  But getting down to zero is much harder than I expected.  I had to take Ativan last night, so I haven’t managed to lower it at all.  Very discouraging.  I’m wondering if I should wait until the weather’s warmer and I have some way to be with more people.

I’m wishing I had what Renee Yohe had, a group of friends who would stay with me and support me while I withdraw from Ativan.

It’s possible that the very hard time I’m having now is related to the effort to get off a drug.  The political idiocy also weighs me down.

O Great Spirit, please help me.  Please help Eleanor.  May I be filled with lovingkindness.  O Great Spirit, I want to serve you, I want to do your will, I want to do good in the world, I want to help in this time of great crisis.

I just read through Erica’s suggestions for things I might do to help myself and can’t imagine being able to carry them out.  I need a practice that’s very simple.  Maybe trying to find compassion for myself should be my practice.

It’s painful to see how quickly I come down from my excitement about Jalaja’s book and Andrew Harvey’s.  I was thinking about when I was married to Dana, and severely depressed and suffering from the airplane phobia, and reading Agatha Christie mysteries over and over again.  I look at that woman and my heart goes out to her.  So much life unlived — and I had so much to give, but didn’t believe in it, and didn’t know how much help I needed, to get the slide show out into the world for example.  I wanted passion and color and engagement, and some way to make a positive difference in the world, and I had no idea what I was up against.  I feel such pain — grief and anger — for that woman who was unable to open her gifts and share them with the world and blamed herself for being lazy and cowardly.

Of course the other thing that’s being so hard is Eleanor’s having a hard hard time and there’s nothing I can do to help her, and Mocha is scratching worse and I don’t know what to do for her.  I can’t do anything to help these two beings who I love very much.  My helplessness is so painful and brings me down too.

I am totally at the end of my resources.  There’s nothing left.

Posted in Depression, Present Day, Trauma | Comments Off on Utterly Defeated by Life

Struggle to Lift My Heart

Rosten, quoted by Fox, in Hildegard:  “The purpose of life is not to be happy.  The purpose of life is to matter; to have it make a difference that you lived at all.”  p xi

I like that a lot, and it would really lift my spirits if I could really get that I have done things that matter, that I have made a difference.  It feels like I can see it as though through a glass wall, that I can almost know that I have made a difference, but I can’t feel it in the way that makes it real.

Fox talks about how our knowledge of the Divine is experiential.  I find that painful because I’ve had so few experiences of the Spiritual.  Right now my heart is feeling squeezed.  I got an email “Game over for the bees,” and I meant to donate $5 but I don’t think it actually went through.  That just makes me hurt more.  [Later I got an email saying my gift had got processed.]  I love so many things, like the bees, and I just see them getting trashed.  I look at this person who hurts because she loves, and how much she wants good for everybody, and the pain she’s in because she feels helpless — and I want to find compassion for her but I can’t do it.  “Endure without relief.”  Endure this feeling of loneliness, helplessness, lack of love, unable to believe that anyone would ever come and help.  I had a momentary image of a number of beings with wings landing on the other couch.  I “know” they care about me, but my heart doesn’t lift, and only when my heart lifts, do I get that it’s something real.

A friend sent me this awhile ago.  I found it somewhat comforting, but most of the time I can’t really connect with a “heaven” that cares about me.

A Prayer
Refuse to fall down.
If you cannot refuse to fall down,
refuse to stay down.
If you cannot refuse to stay down,
lift your heart toward heaven,
and like a hungry beggar,
ask that it be filled,
and it will be filled.
You may be pushed down.
You may be kept from rising.
But no one can keep you
from lifting your heart
toward heaven –
only you.
It is in the middle of misery
that so much becomes clear.
The one who says nothing good
came of this,
is not yet listening.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Monday

Woke up feeling painfully lonely.  Tried to meditate but couldn’t hold on to anything.  It came to me that this is a passage, that I am moving.  Yesterday it felt like I was completely flattened.  Not only could I not get up, I couldn’t even hold my heart up to heaven and ask that it be filled.  I was angry at myself for being defeated.  At the same time, I was angry at those who say you must help the downtrodden — where are you when I need you?  It was a pretty bad day, one of the worst.

While I was walking the dog I asked for help, and my heart got warm.  I said “Thank You.”  Later I asked for help again, but nothing happened.  Sitting here writing, I feel angry at myself again.  How dare you complain?  You are warm and sheltered, you have food to eat, etc.  Yes, but I was traumatized as a baby, and that has made my life very difficult.  I need more support than I have to be able to do more than the bare minimum of cooking and eating and washing dishes, taking care of the dog, paying bills.  I haven’t been able to do laundry, or make important phone calls, or even do something that makes a difference.

That reminds me that one good friend’s away, that I called three friends yesterday, left messages, but they never called back.  That’s a lot of triggers.  I did send Judy a thank you for the note I found — and she came to dance!  That did warm my heart.

Posted in Journal, Present Day, Spirit, Trauma | Comments Off on Struggle to Lift My Heart

Endure without Relief

Grey again and another dusting of snow.  It feels like it has been like this for weeks.

Woke up feeling very lonely.  Tried without success to feel love for people I know I love.  So instead of avoiding I have to just sit with it.  There must be a lot of people out there — elderly ladies living alone — who feel like this.  And babies left alone too long.

I’ve read three Hillerman novels in two days.  At one point yesterday I had a horrible moment of falling into a very bleak world view.  I managed to pull back out of it, but I saw that I was “wallowing.”  So I decided I’d better shape up.  Those are the words that came but really they sound like conforming to someone else’s judgement.  I wasn’t “wallowing,” I was too tired to make an effort, and angry at myself.  What I want to do is take charge of my life again.  Today I want to wash my hair, wash the dishes and change my bed.  Taking care of myself is one of those things that becomes impossible when I am triggered.  Even if I keep feeling painfully lonely, I can still do those things.  Actually, I think this is the first morning in about a week that I haven’t woken up exhausted.

I’ve been thinking about Erica’s words “endure without relief.”  That’s the center of the attachment wound.  I think I’ve felt that most of my life.  That’s what fueled my constant, desperate search for a boyfriend.  Now I’ll just sit with it.  I will endure without relief.  Interestingly, as soon as I say that, I see that relief is possible.  Today, even, if I manage to get to St. Johnsbury for Circle Dancing.

Second cup of tea.  While it was brewing I moved some things on the landing and found a card with a baby seal on it.  I was just going to throw it away, but thought I’d check to see if there was any writing in it.  It’s a beautiful note from Judy Felsen.  No date.  I read it through and something in my heart resonated.  I’ll copy it so I won’t lose it.

Dearest Jen,

You have done for all of us, what environmentalists and animal welfare groups are doing for this seal pup.  You, Jen, have been, and are, saving the world/humanity (sometimes from itself).

I love you, as we all do, and daily I am thankful and offer gratitude for the gift of you to us.

May the light you have shown us shine within and reflect to you your love, wisdom, care, empathy, generosity, and compassion.

From my heart with all my love to you

Your dance daughter, Judy

Someone said that synchronicities are “postcards from God.”  Thank You!

I have the feeling, as I have before, that the person she describes is real.  She’s not me, but she is my task to embody.  I see the face of Baby Jenny, looking up with such eagerness to engage, she is who I’m bringing through and she is who Judy sees.

Went back to check “endure without relief” against the attachment patterns.  I fit under “ambivalently attached.”  This child “experiences the parent’s communication as inconsistent and at times intrusive.”   Dan Siegel, Parenting from the Inside Out, p105

I read Karen the note from Judy.  Asked if it sounded like me.  She said absolutely.  I said I was beginning to get that it might be true.  She said what would you do if it were true.  I said I would relax, I would stop trying so hard, I would know that just by being myself I make good things happen in the world.

 

Posted in Present Day, Trauma | Comments Off on Endure without Relief

I Have No Idea Who I Am

Written on Thursday December 8

Feeling bleak and alone again.  My sense of a vast compassion holding the world is gone.  O gosh nothing means anything.  I’m back to why bother.

Christia wanted to watch a video of Gangaji talking about “Who are you… really.”  It doesn’t resonate for me.  Sometimes — lots of times — I have no idea who I am.  Lately, I’ve been very comfortable with that not knowing.  I’ve actually never thought of myself as any particular thing, not a daughter or a wife, not an astronomer, or astronomy teacher or dance teacher.  I recognize that I am a teacher, not of any particular subject, I teach all the time.  My book was a teaching, my slide show was a teaching, Journey Into Courage was a teaching — I’m teaching all the time even if I don’t realize it.  I never felt like I was anything in particular, never tried to create a persona to impress other people.  Really, I was always trying to fix myself.  I saw myself as defective or broken or wounded.  I couldn’t get attached to that as an identity, partly I had no wheelchair so no one could see I was broken — my senior year at Wellesley, after I broke my ankle, I wore orthopedic shoes and walked with crutches and some students got quiet and looked uncomfortable as I walked by, and I wanted to turn around and yell at them that it was temporary — I didn’t want their pity.  Now I see that part of what made me angry was that I was crippled invisibly.  No one ever saw my pain.

Mother never gave me any direct identity — since I could never please her, I never became a “people-pleaser.”  I was a good student, because I was intelligent and eager to learn.

I have no idea who I am right now.  It’s not important to me.  What is important to me?  Peace, Truth, Justice, Mercy, Compassion.  I want to embody these things and help create more of them on the planet.  O yes, the planet is important to me.  I work to heal myself, hoping to be more effective at making a difference in how humans treat each other and their planet.

I’m thinking about that Jenny with her crutches, angry at the ones who are uncomfortable, wanting to say “It’s temporary,” and at the same time angry on behalf of really disabled people who get treated with the same pity.  I feel such love for her.

I think I must be badly depressed, or maybe even in total despair.  I’ve been reading Jalaja’s book “Evolving Toward Peace.”  She says some wonderful things, tells some heart-warming stories, but the problem as she defines it — that our control-addicted Western Civilization is destroying the planet — looks to me too huge to change.  I suppose if I could even change myself from “head-centered” thinking to “heart-centered” thinking at least I’d be much happier.  I’ve been working on it, working on my strong judgement of Trump and his cronies, but it’s hard.  I’ve been able to forgive most of the people who voted for him, because they thought he would help them have better lives.  I have such an odd split reaction: one part of me wants to run away from them — as I strengthened the wall between me & someone who voted for Trump, and the other part of me is intensely curious to know what they needed/wanted so that they voted that way.  What I want is that feeling of my heart softening and opening that happens when someone shares their pain and vulnerability.

When I read down the list of characteristics of control-centered people, I have a lot of them.  For me it’s come from having capricious, malicious, and willful parents, and learning that I can’t trust any bigger being to take care of me.  I’m guessing that’s the main reason my heart is closed down so much because there’s nothing I can trust.  I’m wondering if I’m closed to myself but still open to others.  I think of Jan always commenting on my big open heart when she hugs me.

Afterthought:  I think about how my parents marriage was one long battle for control.  Also the time when I lived in the Zen house, and my job was taking care of the kitchen.  Looking at it now, I see that no one ever assigned me to the kitchen, I just thought I should do it because the others wee all working.  They told me at one point that they were afraid of helping because I was possessive about the kitchen.  I was shocked, I wasn’t possessive, I felt that I had to do it all because I couldn’t expect help.

Posted in Activism, Trauma | Comments Off on I Have No Idea Who I Am

Attachment Wound

Ache in my heart.  Ache in my whole torso.  Empty.  Without meaning.  I think “It doesn’t have to be this way.”  I remember being at Kindred Spirits and feeling OK.

Erica called this “the attachment wound,” this being alone, without meaning, the ache in my heart, no reason to do anything…  I feel the tears behind my eyes.  But I was only able to cry when I had Erica on the other end of the phone.

Two friends, living alone, told me recently that when they were sick, stuck in bed, one of their children came to take care of them.  I envy these women who have someone who will show up when they need help.

When we were on the phone, I told Erica that I was reaching out.  She said No, that “we” had to be the ones who came to her.  I didn’t understand at the time, but now I see, as I’m sitting here, that what I need is someone to come to me because she cares about me.  The wound is “I cried and cried, and nobody came.”  So many times I wrote that in my journal, and had no idea what it meant until I understood about the trauma.  So much of my life spent in fantasies of the man who would come and love me into reality.  I said of being with Christine and Susan “after a while I began to feel human.”  That startled me at the time.  But then I realized that that described how I felt when I was alone.  I don’t feel human now.  I am nobody, a non-person.  I think of Eleanor saying she doesn’t think she is human.  We aren’t real, we aren’t human, until someone from outside sees us truly.  Elizabeth Goudge says “Identity is the gift of love.”  I think of Father Greg saying “and the soul felt its worth,” saying “You are just what God intended when God made you.”  You have to be seen, seen for who you really are.  I suppose that’s what Erica is doing for me.  I remember Dana saying “I can’t handle your energy.”  And feeling seen instead of wondering if I was too noisy or too quiet.

O yes, the thing about needing someone to notice that you need help and coming to offer it, instead of always having to reach out.  How do I approach the lost part of me to comfort and reassure her?  But it’s not “part of me,” it’s me.  It’s me who has to be rescued.  There’s no one here to do it.

Why did this happen?  I was alone too much between Christmas and New Years.  I had hoped to spend some time with Evelyn, but it didn’t work out, and I hadn’t set up anything else.  I remember the first time I went to stay with her, and she said “O goody, someone to cook for.”  How it warmed my heart.  On the other hand I just accepted it when Dana stopped cooking for me.  He said “You aren’t fun to cook for any more.”  I must have been terribly hurt at one level, but numb to it.  Expected that no one would want to cook for me.  No one ever cooked for me when I went “home” to my alcoholic parents.  So I was alone too much over the holidays.  No Erica, no Cory.  I talked to Karen instead of going to Montpelier.  Then last Tuesday I wasn’t able to get to Erica, so we talked on the phone.  But I think I need physical presence, the baby needs physical presence.  Words don’t mean much to her.

Posted in Journal, Present Day, Trauma | Comments Off on Attachment Wound

Hatred will not cease by hatred..

… hatred will only cease by love.  This is an eternal law.        Buddha

I have been very upset by all the people and organizations that I support who are  attacking Trump.  I think this is wasted effort, and it only entrenches Trump voters.

What I would like to see happen:  first of all Van Jones is producing a series called the “Messy Truth.”  (You need to scroll down to the “messy truth.”)  He makes it so clear that what we need is dialogue.  Staying on our own side of the division just makes everything worse and is not democracy.  The system in our country now is not democracy.  It has been an oligarchy — rule by the wealthy — for a long time.  Van Jones says that both the Republican Party and the Democratic Party have failed the working class, that they made big mistakes and need to correct them.  He interviews an Ohio family who voted Democratic for years, voted for Obama twice, then voted for Trump.  Their reasons make perfect sense.  Thinking they are “stupid” is a big mistake.

We would do much better to focus on Bernie’s vision for our country.  My notes are not exact so I have given the link to the relevant speech here.  Bernie says that we can create a democracy that works for all of us, not just the 1%,
we can guarantee health care to all people as a right,
we can have paid family and medical leave,
we can make public colleges and universities tuition free,
we can lead the world in transforming our energy system and combatting climate change,
we can break up the large financial institutions,
we can demand that the wealthy start paying their fair share of taxes.

That will happen when millions of us stand together and create a government that works for all.

Posted in Activism | Comments Off on Hatred will not cease by hatred..