More About Vocation

It amazes me that I can write something about my vocation in January and then lose it so fast.  I see that telling my story as though god had designed it ushered in the days of grace.  Never saw that before.  And the thing about waiting for the “next thing” to come along.  I certainly forgot about that.  I would live so differently if I reminded myself of that every morning.  Who said: “God comes to us disguised as our life”?  Pauline D’Arcy, quoted by Richard Rohr in “Breathing Under Water.”

Written in February 2014

The story that really works for me is the one that says it was my vocation to build Neskaya, and right now I’m doing just what god wants me to be and do.  The other story, that doesn’t work, is about how I don’t deserve to live.  I feel like I’m caught and torn between the two of them.

So tell the story again:

1964 – degree in Astronomy, Stonehenge, White Goddess, folk dance
1975 – Brunswick   —>  folk dance
1977     —> dream class  —> trip to Callanish  —> start book —> Center for Archaic Studies
1978 – meet Dana  —> move to Franconia
1986 – publish book: The Feminine of History is Mystery
1988 – discover Sacred Circle Dance
1992-1996   build Neskaya
1998 – create Dancing the Sacred Calendar

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The City That Ended Hunger

From the “Daily Good:” “The City That Ended Hunger” by Frances Moore Lappé

A quote:

Behind this dramatic, life-saving change is what Adriana calls a “new social mentality”—the realization that “everyone in our city benefits if all of us have access to good food, so—like health care or education—quality food for all is a public good.”

The Belo experience shows that a right to food does not necessarily mean more public handouts (although in emergencies, of course, it does.) It can mean redefining the “free” in “free market” as the freedom of all to participate. It can mean, as in Belo, building citizen-government partnerships driven by values of inclusion and mutual respect.

And when imagining food as a right of citizenship, please note: No change in human nature is required! Through most of human evolution—except for the last few thousand of roughly 200,000 years—Homo sapiens lived in societies where pervasive sharing of food was the norm. As food sharers, “especially among unrelated individuals,” humans are unique, writes Michael Gurven, an authority on hunter-gatherer food transfers. Except in times of extreme privation, when some eat, all eat.

Before leaving Belo, Anna and I had time to reflect a bit with Adriana. We wondered whether she realized that her city may be one of the few in the world taking this approach—food as a right of membership in the human family. So I asked, “When you began, did you realize how important what you are doing was? How much difference it might make? How rare it is in the entire world?”

“I knew we had so much hunger in the world,” Adriana said. “But what is so upsetting, what I didn’t know when I started this, is it’s so easy. It’s so easy to end it.”

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Vocation

I started reading Stephen Cope’s book “The Great Work of Your Life” which is about vocation.  I had only read a little way into it, when it became abundantly clear that my vocation is the work I am doing with Erica.  Cope talks about people having one vocation and burning out, and finding another vocation.  I had felt pretty solidly, except when depressed, that Neskaya was my vocation, but I’ve begun to feel lately, actually since my breakdown in 2008, that Neskaya was going on without me, that I was no longer critical to its functioning.  Last Sunday, while Kayla was teaching the program, I felt a sense of abdication, of really handing it over.

After seeing that my vocation is my work with Erica, I also saw that the blog was part of my vocation:  I love doing it, I get a lot of satisfaction out of putting it out there, and most of the time I don’t really care if anyone reads it.  Certainly I don’t even entertain fantasies of becoming famous.  Instead I trust that the people who are meant to read it will find it.

Earlier thoughts on vocation:
From January 19, 2014

We went in and made cups of tea.  Barbara read a piece from the Sufis about single-mindedness.   I said I wasn’t interested in enlightenment, I wanted to live my life as well as possible and help heal the earth.  I was thinking that my vocation was not found by knowing what I wanted and going for it single-mindedly.  Looking back I see I was clearly guided.  At least I recognized the pieces when I met them.  I told Barbara about the trip with Bettie and my epiphany at Knocknarae.  Then perhaps about Brunswick & dream class & starting to write the book, and Charles bringing me to Franconia.  The connection with folk dance and then sacred circle dance.  She was really interested, so it was fun telling her.  I told her about California and smashing David’s windows, and going to the Health Center.  She thought my life was really interesting which is kind of fun for me.

After I got home I called Eve & told her the same bit — looking at my life as though god had designed it.   — and to my utter surprise, I woke up this morning feeling great.   Will it last?

Tuesday, January 21

When I got to Karen I told her I was doing really well.  I told her about looking at my life as though God had designed it.  She said this time of feeling good was different, felt different to her.  She said I wasn’t immediately wanting to rush out and do things.  In the past I would do that and then exhaust myself.  She heard me being patient instead of pushy, willing to wait for the right moment, the right task, the right dog.   I had been wondering about the painful times.  While talking to Karen I remembered the truth that without PTSD and depression, I might have gone on the standard career track, become  a science teacher someplace.  I’ve learned a lot about compassion from being depressed, and it’s also forced me to see that taking care of myself is primary.

Later I realized that, unlike other times when I have “finally got somewhere,” this time I’ve seen that I’ve been in God’s hands all along.  That Spirit has been guiding my life from the beginning.  This reminds me of another meaning of “epiphany” —— it’s when something that has been there all along suddenly becomes visible.  Instead of rushing out to make things happen, I’m willing to wait until the “next thing” comes along.  Gosh what a relief!  I don’t have to “figure out” what my vocation is, all I have to do is look at my life.  I’ve handed my life over to God many times, and asked to be given a sign, and was disappointed when nothing happened.  I was even disappointed when God said “You’re doing fine,” I wanted to be given a task, something big that would be visible in the world…  Well, you silly person, isn’t Neskaya big enough for you?

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Session with Erica

I had a session with Erica yesterday.  I’ve been seeing her since June, but because she was away a lot during the summer, I just had to hold on.  When she finally got back for good, it took a while for my inner baby to start trusting her.  The work I’m doing with her is about very early experiences, that are not at all easy to get ahold of, and then, because I get opened up to a lot of early stuff that’s never been processed, I can have a hard time just getting through the day.

At the end of August, Erica talked about me developing a relationship with the baby.  How can I practice staying connected?  Erica said “The baby needs to be acknowledged, appreciated, and responded to.”  I wrote at the time, “I feel a lot of warmth.  I’m so glad to have the baby in my life.”

But then I forgot about working on the relationship. Last week I became aware that I was “checking in” with the baby, but not really creating a relationship with her.  I would notice that she was crying, but then check out again.  I never thought of comforting her.  I suddenly saw mother, opening the door, seeing that I was crying and just closing the door again.  So last week I tried to be aware of the baby all the time.  I asked her what she needed, and how she felt about something I we? were doing, and she answered, more with feelings than with words.

So last week when I checked in, I found that the baby was angry.  I asked her what she was angry about.  She said she was angry because no one had seen that she was in trouble.  I wrote a whole passage in my journal about that, about how the signs that were there were things that people hadn’t learned to look for.  When I told Erica, I said I understand that the relevant knowledge wasn’t there, even after the Vietnam War people were still insisting that PTSD wasn’t real, Peter Levine’s book about the physiology of trauma wasn’t published until 1997.  Erica said “Can you explain that to the baby?”  I tried, not feeling very successful.  Erica asked if the baby got it.  I checked and said yes, that she had relaxed.  Erica said “She didn’t understand your words, but she did understand your tone of voice, and how tenderly you are holding her.”  So I just sat and held the baby, feeling the tenderness, and it was all rounded and so comfortable that I just sat in silence, savoring it.  I didn’t want to break it.  At one point a third woman appeared, holding me as I was holding Baby Jenny.

I left the session feeing wonderfully in touch with Baby Jenny.  Last night I asked the baby what she wanted to do.  She said “Make a clay sculpture of the three women.”  So I dug out my bag of clay, that’s been sitting there for a long time.  Some of it was still soft, so I cut it off, pounded the pieces flat, sprayed water on them and put them in a plastic ziploc bag.  This morning I checked and it’s softened, I’m not sure enough that it can be worked, but I will keep trying.

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Baby Jenny Opens Up

Because of the work I have been doing on the earliest part of my life, some very new experiences have been happening to me.  And memories of good times.

jenny

This little girl is looking at the world with excited, expectant joy.  What will she see?

cecropia

Bearwintermorning copy

 

Lafayette

librarymay09 copy

swinside

spiralgalaxy

This too is very exciting!  The distribution of the 8000 nearest galaxies.

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More Recent Versions of Jenny

This is the one I posted on Facebook:

if

I was clowning out in front of Neskaya, and somebody took these pictures:

jennycute

 

I think these are more accurate versions of what I really look like.

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The Closing Down of Jenny

Here’s Jenny as a baby, open and eager to engage with the world…

jenny

This picture was taken when Jenny was four years old.  Alas, I lost or mislaid the original, so this is a scan of a copy — not very high quality.

jenny3
“Little Jenny with the Dar Gorani look” was named by a circle dancer who saw this photograph.  Dar Gorani is a dance choreographed to Armenian music, using traditional Armenian gestures.  We also call it the “prayer to the lost homeland” because it’s about being driven out of your home, and looking back to its beauty, and forward to the hope that you will be able to create a new home.  In this picture I see a child who knows that somewhere out there is a better way to live, but where she is right now there is just the pain of not really being seen and supported by her alcoholic parents.

This picture was taken at our summer house in Maine. The woman on the left was our mother’s helper, then cousin Terry, then Jenny, Jack, and Josephine. I look tense and unhappy.  By this time, I was being given too much responsibility for the younger children. We had no “mother’s helper” back home.

EPSON scanner image

By age twelve, I was given complete responsibility for the three younger children in the summers. My parents used to say “Weren’t we clever to have raised a babysitter before we raised a family.”  I remember being left alone with them, fixing supper and getting them to bed.  Then I was essentially alone.  I described what I felt as “that twilight feeling.”  Years later, I realized “that twilight feeling” was depression.

This is a picture of me at 13.  You can see that I’ve put my hair in pin curls.  I see a child who is very sensitive, very vulnerable, expecting only that she will be hurt again.

EPSON scanner image

This is me at 17.  I’m trying my hardest to look normal.  I seem to be saying to my judging parents “Is this how you want me to look?”

EPSON scanner image

Looking at this picture now, after working with my new therapist on the belief that I was ugly, I see that she doesn’t look so awful.  In fact I notice her bright eyes.  One reason I thought I was ugly was that I didn’t have any dates.  Most of my classmates were already going out and talking about the boys they knew.  I did not see that being at a girls’ school limited my chances for meeting boys.  I also had some bad experiences of having one or two dates, and then nothing.  Because I wanted so badly to be loved, I attached very quickly, made up romantic stories, and probably presented an aura of desperation which of course did not make relationships easy.  I was also raped by a date, which didn’t help my self-esteem.  Of course I never told anybody about it.

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God Speaks to Job

And now for something completely different:

IMG_0255

Gird up thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.  Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?  Hath the rain a father?  From whose womb doth the snow come?  Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion? Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season?  Or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons? Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven? Canst thou set the dominion thereof in the earth? Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, that abundance of waters may cover thee?

I’m familiar with these lines because years ago I bought a silkscreen by Ben Shahn with many lines of Hebrew.  It’s name was “Pleiades” and because I was an astronomy major, I asked what the lines meant.  I was told “Canst thou bind the sweet influence of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion?  Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? …”

Later I found out that the “sweet influences of Pleiades” meant good luck, synchronicities, those positive things that happen to us, but that we can’t make happen.  The “bands of Orion” mean those forces in the universe that we can’t change.  Can you break the law of gravity?  “Mazzaroth” are the signs of the zodiac.

When I found out that these lines come from the Book of Job, Chapter 38, verses 31 to 34, I looked them up. They are from the passage where God talks to Job out of the whirlwind. It begins “Gird up thy loins like a man, for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me: Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?” and goes on to say “Hath the rain a father?  From whose womb does the snow come?”  At this time I had been exploring the idea of God the Mother, and found myself amusedly thinking “what gender is this god?”

Recently I was talking to a friend about the silkscreen and said the lines “Gird up thy loins like a man, for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me, Where wast THOU when I laid the foundations of the deep?”  I said it with lots of passion, and noticed later, when I went to look up the quote, it should be “foundations of the earth.”  My friend asked why I had so much feeling, did I believe in that kind of god?”  My first thought was no, I believe in a loving god, the one who loves us no matter what.

But later on, when I started asking questions about the nature of the god who loves me, and the nature of the spirit that became the universe, I saw that “God” was saying essentially that the Universe is great and complex and subtle and beautifully designed, and far beyond what a human could imagine, much less design, even the most intelligent human that ever lived on earth.  I think of something like the periodic table of the Elements, which is actually quite an extraordinary design.

periodic table

We did not make it up, we found it out, and it describes the pattern made by the invisible structure that the atoms are based on.  The more I think about it, the more miraculous it is.

Then there are things like the salinity of the ocean.  If you calculate how much salt gets washed down the rivers every year, and how many years have gone by since there were oceans (i.e. after the planet cooled enough that water could stay liquid) there should be much more salt in the oceans than there is.  Why this is so is not yet known.  When you add the fact that living cells do not tolerate salinity above 5%, and that the salinity of the oceans has remained constant for a very long time, you have to ask the question, why/how is this happening?  James Lovelock’s Gaia Hypothesis is that the earth maintains conditions for life the same way the body regulates its temperature: many complex interactions by tiny creatures.

Job’s god might well say “Can you regulate the salinity of the ocean?  Can you guide the bee to the flower?  Could you teach the hummingbird how to build her nest?” etc etc.

I have been trying to reconcile this God with the one who embraced me saying “Welcome!”  It occurs to me that there might be hierarchies of spirit, some in charge of galaxies, say, and the one I relate to as “God” is really an archangel, the archangel of our solar system.  There is no “God”, only the enormous spirit that became the universe, and exists in everything, from the Andromeda Galaxy to red corpuscles in my blood to the iron atoms in those cells, and on up and on down, to dimensions we don’t even know.

I also think about my experience of the “Ocean of Compassion,” how the feeling was there, but with no sense of a person directing that feeling.  Perhaps that was the compassion of the Universal Spirit.  And perhaps, the Universal Spirit IS God after all.

Recent posts on this same topic:  God vs. Universe
 I Choose to Trust…

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Finally Able to See Lifelong Pain

I want to write about how feeling stronger is allowing me to see the pain I was in for most of my life.  I had no idea.  I thought I was “too sensitive,” defective in some way, a coward that I couldn’t deal better with difficulties.  That I was hurt by being teased and couldn’t follow Mother’s advice to “ignore them.”  That imagining I was struggling with something really big instead of trivial details was “making myself look important.”  But the truth is, I wasn’t struggling with ordinary fear and sadness, I was facing severe depression and terror.

When I was writing the story of self-mutilation for my Journey monologue, I had real trouble feeling and understanding my motivation.  I know I was in a lot of pain, that I felt I was wrong to be in.  It was my fault I hurt so much, Daddy even told me I “wanted to be miserable,” there was no reason or excuse for my pain, so cutting myself at least gave me a real reason for hurting.  I also hated myself and wanted to hurt myself.

My role model for cutting myself was Deborah Blau in “I Never Promised You a Rose Garden.”  The first time I read it I couldn’t put it down.  I was amazed that here was someone that felt like I did.  Deborah cut and burned herself many times.  I was surprised when it hurt to cut myself, because Deborah had never said it hurt.  There was a time, when she was healing, she tried to burn herself and a reflex pulled her hand away.  I didn’t understand at the time, but of course she was dissociated when she cut herself without pain.  I read that book over and over again.  In my copy there are many passages that are underlined, and some splashes of blood.

The first time Deborah cut herself, she did it at home and let the blood run into a basin.  Her horrified parents took her to psychiatrists and finally put her into a hospital.  Her therapist told her mother that she was interested in the fact that Deborah kept the blood in a basin.  “She didn’t want to let it get too far away.”  Dr. Fried explained that cutting herself was not a failed suicide attempt, but a cry for help.

Another interesting thing, that I’m seeing only now, is that Deborah’s story happens during World War II.  At one point she concludes that she must be the enemy they were fighting, and she steps on some broken glass to embody her identity as “the enemy.”  I did not put together the fact that during the time I was cutting myself the Vietnam War was going on.  I put them together in my monologue for Journey.  I knew that I identified with the soldiers, especially the ones with PTSD, but of course that was just me trying to make myself important, asking for special treatment.  It never occurred to me that cutting myself might be the wound I suffered in a dirty war, where the older generation sent the younger out to fight for no good reason, and failed to give them the support they needed.  They came back to people who were not glad to see them but uncomfortable.  It still makes me angry that soldiers come back from war and don’t have adequate help for either their physical wounds or their psychological ones.  I remember one time thinking that soldiers were awarded the “Purple Heart” when they had been wounded in foreign wars.  I thought there should be a medal for those of us who were wounded in domestic wars: the war of men against women, and the war of parents against children.

I never talked about cutting myself to a therapist before I did Journey into Courage because I was ashamed.  Then I read, in The Courage to Heal, that self-mutilation was one consequence of sexual abuse.  That made me feel like it was an honorable wound, not a stupid one.  It allowed me to be part of Journey.  And it inspired me to start working on the sexual abuse issue.  That never got anywhere, and it wasn’t until I stopped denying that I had been traumatized, that I was able to finally get down to the real issue.

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Script for Journey into Courage

JENNY: FEAR SECTION

Jenny is sitting on the floor, writing in her journal.
Start tape (Simon & Garfunkel)

I started writing a journal when I was a teenager because I had no one I could talk to about my pain.
      Hello Darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again,
I’m all alone in my apartment.  David is with some other girl.  Why does it always end like this?  What did I do wrong?  Nobody ever loved me and nobody ever will.
…  within the sound of silence.
      In restless dreams I walked alone
I feel so lonely and frightened.  Everything is dissolving.  I feel so cold.  I wish there was somebody here, it wouldn’t have to be a lover, just a friend, just a companion.   … turned my collar…   But I’m so hopeless and inadequate.  I just sit here wallowing in my negative feelings and never being positive.  Of course nobody wants to be with me.  I must be an incredibly awful person that nobody ever loved me.
      Fools said I you do not know, silence like a cancer grows

There are soldiers dying in Vietnam.   …Hear my words that I might teach you, take my arms that I might reach you…   I joined a group to protest the war, but sometimes they seem to blame the soldiers for the war.  Don’t they understand — soldiers just do what they’re told.   …in the sounds of silence…   And now they’re over there, lost in a dirty war in the jungle, and congress never declared it and we don’t know how to stop it and nobody knows what we’re fighting for.  I’ve signed petitions, I’ve marched, I’ve refused to pay my taxes…  We’ve got to stop this war.    The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls…    but what good does it do to protest?
      in the sounds of silence

I wish I weren’t so sensitive.  The littlest thing seems to knock me flat.  I’m such a weakling and a coward.  If I were a better person I could get someone to listen to me …
      A winter’s day in a deep and dark December, I am alone…

I can’t stand it, it hurts so much.  It feels like there’s some evil demon inside me.  How can I get it out?  I know, I’ll take this razor blade…    OUCH, it hurts.  How do people kill themselves I wonder, skin is really tough…  O look, it’s bleeding.   I’ll write in my journal.
H – E – L – P

      And a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries.

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