Monthly Archives: September 2023

Yet Another Young Part

From my journal for Wednesday, September 13 3rd cup. coffee.     Feeling very odd.  I’m finding it extremely hard to stay present.  I had been walking Mocha for a little while when I realized I had been thinking, not paying … Continue reading

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1995: “Happiness is a Choice?”

From my journal for Sept 5,1995 Reading the new version of Son-Rise — a friend offered it to me because of their practice of radical acceptance of their autistic son — I find myself very angry at the exposition of … Continue reading

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Early Work with Younger “Parts”

(Written in June 2004) In a session of the “Wave Work” at Kripalu: there was a confusing struggle with my body’s tendency to cramp up (esp left hand) and kick, shake, jump.  Finally I let it shrivel up into a … Continue reading

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1995: Moving Along the Bottom

From my journal for November 14, 1995 [I had a dream about Andy Lindsay who worked at the yacht club, had a boat called “Pelagius — for the originator of some heresy.”  I looked it up: “Pelagianism: The theological doctrine … Continue reading

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1995: Symptoms of Trauma

At this point in 1995 I had no idea I was dealing with PTSD. From my journal for November 10: Second cup of tea. … and nothing to say.  I feel cold.  There’s the ache in my stomach and heart … Continue reading

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“Attainment too is Emptiness…”

Written in writing group on Monday, September 4 The title comes from a Buddhist chant to the Bodhisattva of Compassion. and nothing to say…  nothing to say…  The world is empty.  I’m the only one left on the planet.  That … Continue reading

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1995: Looking for Value in my Life

From my journal for October 27, 1995 I’m bored with reading, I feel too tired to write …  Sometimes I hate my life.  (“I need to learn to love my poor wounded life because it needs love”)  How can I … Continue reading

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1995: The Trauma of “Don’t think you’re so great”

In this passage I see that I am essentially a creative person, but I’ve never been able to actualize more than a small percentage of what I was capable of. The reason is because of my mother constantly telling me … Continue reading

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