7B
2014
I didn't know myself as having a 'signature smile' until recently. I just smiled whenever something tickled my fancy. Though I'd listened to comments concerning 'my smiliness' for many years, I'd not questioned the ease with which my smiles emerged until two years ago, when fate offered me a gift that I'd never expected to receive.
2002
When we were babes in arms, your brain and mine had not yet been socially programmed to 'hide' emotion too raw to 'bare' in a locked storage unit, labeled DENIAL. It's within this storage unit that we hide impassioned emotion too complex to bare to ourselves.
Though we may remember a childhood experience, which proved exceptionally painful, our impassioned reaction may have felt so complex as to have been flash frozen for decades until fate offers us reason to experience an unexpected melt down due to the fact that 'something' we're doing today resembles that numbed experience from yesteryear, causing the mind to flood with an impassioned sense of confusion, catalyzed by déjà vu. (Whew!)
If, during this time of impassioned déjà vu, unprocessed guilt from long ago is released, we may feel as fearful of wrong doing, today, as we did then, As impassioned emotion is the direct opposite of logical thought, I wonder what Mother Nature was smoking when she packed intelligence and passion into the same brain! I mean it doesn't take a rocket scientist to surmise that once unleashed, raw passion reacts like emotional TNT.
Perhaps when designing the brain, Mother Nature was not in her 'right mind'. Perhaps she was having a bad hair day. Perhaps much of the craziness in our lives is Mother Nature's mistake … and as mothers seem to accept the blame for so much that goes wrong with a child's development, I think it's time to give the old girl a break and make this switch: From now on, let's refer to Father Nature and Mother Time. Ah! That's a huge weight off my mind! A weight I was unaware of lugging around, subconsciously, since Janet died when I was three. If asked to name that weight, today, I'd reply: Fear of making any decision that might cause those I loved to frown at me. And I had no clue of having carried that weight until my terror concerning my most fearsome childhood experience had been fully exposed and understood. Once my intelligence came to understand the ways in which yesteryear's most fearsome, guilt ridden experience filtered into my conscious mind, today, my adult pleasure center developed a sense of self trust, free from fear, as never before.
Though we may recall and describe a fearsome childhood experience that flooded our minds with feelings of guilt-ridden devastation, we commonly disassociate that early experience from guilt, filtering into our conscious minds, today, because today's experience seems utterly unrelated to that which had terrified us, long ago, until insight into similarities, connecting those experiences, sparks an Aha! moment to which we'd been blind.
2014
While swinging alongside my mother, I was not yet conscious of emotional reactions that my defense system had tucked into the deepest pockets of my mind. In 2002, I was unaware of how often my subconscious sent out smoke signals of undeserved guilt, clouding the conscious portion of my mind with yesteryear's unresolved fear. It was not until my spirit became weepy, soggy, edgy that intuition inspired me to seek insight into my need to bare the rawness of subterranean guilt, which had laid heavy on my spirit throughout every stage of life.
Upon seeking help astute with insight, I came to understand how the thought processor and defense system complicate the interactive functions of our brains. In order to resusitate my spirit, my intelligence had to focus upon these intriguing effects of denial:
Matter is made up of particles of energy, and the same is true of emotion.
When the brain is overwhelmed by emotional electricity, synapses producing clarity, scatter.
This scattering of electrical energy creates emotional static, which shatters our sense of logic.
Thus do anxiety, anger, confusion and passion of all kinds shatter clarity and logic.
Once clarity and logic shatter, our basic instincts are thrown off track.
Once our instincts are 'off', the overwhelmed brain can't make heads or tails of reality.
Once our sense of reality is enveloped within a heavy fog of emotional confusion
We're just a hop, skip, or jump from cruising into Denialand, where
All sense of solution-seeking logic can't find its way out of a paper bag
In the aftermath of this mentally conflicted, emotional tornado
We may awaken to find our spirits struggling with a sense of despair that
Feels similar to that which we'd felt when we were children, answerable to
The god-like authority of adults—thumbs up, we'd felt safely connected—
Thumbs down, we'd felt disconnected, shamed, excluded, guilty, terrified
If, during childhood, we'd suffered a frightening experience where
A god-like authority figure had clamped down on us too hard
It's likely that a vital slice of self trust got stuck in a place where
Guilt and independent thought intertwined, forming tight knots of fear
In some cases, this childhood experience is remembered while
In other cases, Mother Nature deems a life changing experience
Better 'forgotten' until adult intuition feels reason to
Seek and thaw deeper truth, frozen inside
(As the answers you seek are inside
No one who love you can free you of undeserved guilt but you)
Generally, we don't think to seek deeper truth until we hit bottom
In my case, that's when my sixth sense takes center stage in that
My mind can't rest until I experience 'melt down', suggesting that
An impassioned emotion or terrifying experience
Frozen behind my defensive wall, begins to leak into my conscious mind
In the middle of a melt down, anxiety rises, because I no longer know who I am!!!
As fate offered me reason to experience more than one melt down (stories to come)
I've come to see the value in questing toward identifying which personal strength
Gets tied up ino a tight knot of anxiety whenever one of my decisions hints at
Disappointing the god-like authority figure, who had frightened me most as a child
If you ask which of my personal strengths got tied up in knots whenever
I'd feared disappointing my mom, I'd reply: Self trust
Not self trust, in general. Just a slice of self trust when my mother frowned
I'd no clue that over most of my life, I'd stretch to extremes to win Mom's smile
Before I could feed my instinctive need to restrengthen this slice of self trust
I was challenged with identifying an experience that had heaped
Too much guilt on the vulnerable head of a child
While growing up, I'd no clue of unconsciously
Heaping that guilt, which remained unnamed and raw, upon myself
And thus did my spirit carry this undeserved guilt trip forward
Through every stage of my life until recently
As no one leaves childhood emotionally unscathed
We all experience attacks of unnamed anxiety
And the main reason that anxiety constricts our ability to breathe freely is due to
That excruciating, left-over fear, which has been crying for
Identification, reprocessing and release …
Once that introspective work has been achieved, inner conflict relaxes, at last
As inner conflict resolves, I can feed my personal needs in a newly rebalanced fashion
Oh... One last thought for today:
It's vital to remember that Mother Nature casts her spell of denial
To help us get through a rough childhood experience
Making our way through a rough childhood experience does not suggest
That we pack guilt in our baggage and move into Denialand on a permanent basis
Each time intuition inspires me to seek deeper truth into exposing honest emotion into
That which I feel at my core, concerning my desire to
Feed highly personal, unmet needs, numbed behind my wall of denial
It's common to fend off this slice of reality that I'd not acknowledged to myself
On the other hand, questing toward self awareness is not to be feared for this reason:
THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE
Free from what?
Free from denial's numbing spell
Free from this maze that blinds you from seeing that
Generally speaking, others do not rain on your parade as often
As you do when you allow yesteryear's guilt to numb passion in need of release
In fact, you can't know yourself until
You can reach inside so deeply as to feel raw passion aching for freedom
And here is why that's true:
You are as human as I am
And all human beings are comprised of two sides
On one side we see our strengths
On the other we hide from vulnerabilities—
Which develop into strengths once
Fate offers us reason to quest toward deepening self awareness by
Unpacking our baggage, which blinds us to where our brains really want to go …
I've spent a lot of time with Nick.
Nick who?
You know the Nick of whom I speak
His given name is: In The Nick of Time
Thank goodness Nick and his buddies
Socrates and The Bard feel the need to
Swoop down from on high to read me my rights while
Encouraging me to develop that slice of self trust, which
Liberates me to meet my needs in a self disciplined way after
I think to take time out to calm anxiety down by
Consciously setting parental tapes aside in order to
Free my mind to meet my needs, and
Each time I think clearly for myself
My spirit soars :)
Though tis hard work to free my conscious mind from
Childhood guilt, stored behind my wall of denial
Here is why the pain of self discovery is worth the gain:
Inevitably, deeper truth, concerning feeling free to
Confront my unmet needs, seeps out of my subconscious, suggesting
That, today, I can see clear into my core, at last, and if you ask:
Annie, when you look into your core, what do you see staring back, I'd reply:
I see a compassionate, good hearted, self disciplined woman
Who had been such a good little girl that, in truth
My spirit has always had sound reason to
Replace yesteryear's undeserved guilt with
That slice of self trust I'd unknowingly misplaced at the vulnerable age of three :)
Thank goodness, this rebalanced view of the person I've grown to be
Frees me from living in the shadow of yesteryear's despair which
Had limited my scope as to how a self disciplined soul can
Take good care of loved ones while honoring personal needs, as well, and
What, I ask, can feel better than a view of reality as balanced as that! :) *****
Monday, June 30, 2014
Sunday, June 29, 2014
1064 NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! REVISITED 7A
7 A
2002
Here's what discretion suggested I not disclose while swinging with Mom:
I chose not to say that in the aftermath of Dad's death, an intuitive feeling, inspired by the depth of my mother's sadness and regret, had directed me to embark upon a quest to learn how Janet's death may have caused my development to swerve away from the norm. As we were nearing the two year anniversary of Dad's death, I felt an instinctive pull to resume my routine, which meant spending less time with Mom. Since Dad's death, she and I had spent a good part of every day, together.
Though everyone kept telling me to take good care of myself, inner conflict divided my mind for this reason: On one side, intuition suggested my need for space while on the other, intution suggested that if I spent less time with Mom, while she was still mourning so deeply, she'd feel abandoned. Whenever I tried to discuss how sad the depth of her mourning made me feel, Mom's response was consistent: I can't help it, Annie.
In response to my having once said: Mom, I have to return to the land of the living—Mom replied—Well, I can't.
Interestingly, I'd noticed that Mom's cheerful smile appeared whenever she and I spent time with family and friends. It was when we spent time alone that the depth of her loneliness was revealed. Mom, I'd say, you're like two people. Why do you smile so readily whenever we're not alone?
I want people to want to be with me, Annie.
Mom, I need your smile, too.
Well then, who can I really be myself with—who will I talk to about how I really feel?
A therapist, Mom.
I don't need therapy.
Mom, you don't need therapy as long as you have me …
I began to invite others to join us when we were together until Mom asked me to do that less often. For the first few years after Dad's death, Mom, who'd been very social, felt comfortable with very few people.
Eventually, I sought out a grief group:
Mom, there's a grief group that I'd like to go to with you, and it's right near your house.
I don't need it, Annie.
Well, I think I do—so will you humor me and come?
When Mom agreed, I felt hopeful.
We walked into a large room where at least twenty men and women, maybe twenty-five—some Mom's age, some mine—sat in a circle of chairs. Every one of them had lost a spouse. Some, like Mom were new to the group, others, who'd become friends, greeted each other with warmth. Those who had attended for a while helped those whose grief hung fresh with a sense of heaviness in the air. As conversation circled round to Mom and me, we introduced ourselves, and my spirit pulsed with hope that Mom, listening to those who were experiencing the same feelings that she'd continued to express to me, would seeking support and form new friendships within the group, but that was not to be. Instead, I watched Mom's smiling demeanor tell everyone in the circle how close we were and well she was doing.
Though Mom chose not to attend, again, I returned until the facilitator kindly suggested that a care giving group might serve my needs—and though I believed in the value of therapy as much then as I do now, my spirit had not yet sunk into that quicksand of despair, which would cause me to seek out a care giving group—though that would change when my loving efforts could no longer hold both heads above water. As another two or three years passed before I felt the need to seek help for myself, my quest into self awareness—which eventually identified the guilt trip that I'd sent myself on since the age of three—remained buried in my subconscious, numbed behind my wall of denial.
Throughout my lifetime, whenever I'd talked about Janet, I'd make reference to the baby's death.
When filling out family histories in doctors' offices, I'd always written 'Lauren' under siblings and though I'd checked 'living', it never once occurred to me to add 'Janet' and check 'deceased'.
Why not? I'd not consciously perceived of Janet as my sibling, who'd lived and died. I'd simply (?) thought of Janet as having been my mother and father's child.
At the age of three, my defense system (the self protective portion of my brain) had submerged my overwhelmed state of confusion, fear and pain into a deep freeze within my subconscious. Then, after locking those raw emotions out of my realm of consciousness, my defense system swallowed the key.
In this way did Mother Nature offer my cheerful spirit safe passage to go forth on its merry way, whistling through each day—while I'd scratch myself raw each wakeful night, highlighting the fact that a person's subconscious sense of confusion, fear and pain feels more invasive than the conscious mind perceives is true. In short, I'd spent my life walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop—which is what happened when we lost Dad as suddenly as Janet … suggesting that both Mom and I had lots to learn about—ourselves …
Upon reflection, I'd grown up perceiving of this tragic episode in our lives as my parents' loss, not mine, until my father's sudden death catalyzed a change in our family dynamics that proved utterly unexpected, and not until I hit bottom, necessitating my engaging in therapy, did I gain insight into the fact that time, alone, does not heal all wounds—most especially raw wounds, which remain subconsciously blocked from conscious memory—as in—no pain/no gain. In short, I couldn't unfreeze the pain buried in my subconscious until I'd suffered a melt down of my own …
During the first two years after Dad's death, Janet began to come to mind much more frequently than ever before. And here's what made each of those mysterious moments feel surreal: Whenever Janet came to mind, tears began to cascade down my cheeks. I'd feel no sadness—yet. No fear. No guilt. No emotion, other than confusion. It seemed as though my tears would suddenly flow, as though all on their own and just wouldn't quit. As those tears flowed freely only when I was alone, how curiously confounding was that!
At some point, this conundrum aroused a dreaded sense of deja vu, which sparked my need to explore whatever was catalyzing this viseral reaction to emerge. As body, mind and spirit are connected, my quest into self awareness begin.
When we think about the brain, it's common for the thought processing center or memory bank to come to mind. In truth, our brains are much more complex than that.
The brain is a delicate instrument, composed of many interrelated parts. As one part of the brain serves as a subterranean storehouse for raw emotions, often times, today's experience causes that storehouse to spring a leak. If we compare the brain at work to an automobile, made up of complex interactive components, then guess what proves in need of a tune up if we want our lives to run smoothly? Otherwise, the decisions we make won't take us to where intuition suggests that we really need to go if our spirits are to soar more freely than ever before …
At times when we can't believe what a person said or did, we say: What were you thinking?
When that person responds with a confused shrug of the shoulders, we'd be wise to ask: Well, what were you feeling?—because in addition to storing memorable experiences, perceptions, misperceptions and facts in one portion of the brain, we store emotional reactions from years past, as well.
Just as facts emerge from storage, the same is true of yesteryear's emotional reactions, whether they'd been peaceful, joyful, impassioned, angry, shy or too painful to bear. Emotion too painful to bare to oneself signals Mother Nature to call upon the defense system to build a protective wall that numbs us to the depth of unhealed fear, guilt or despair …
Your brain and mine store emotion too painful to 'bare' in a locked storage unit, labeled DENIAL …
2002
Here's what discretion suggested I not disclose while swinging with Mom:
I chose not to say that in the aftermath of Dad's death, an intuitive feeling, inspired by the depth of my mother's sadness and regret, had directed me to embark upon a quest to learn how Janet's death may have caused my development to swerve away from the norm. As we were nearing the two year anniversary of Dad's death, I felt an instinctive pull to resume my routine, which meant spending less time with Mom. Since Dad's death, she and I had spent a good part of every day, together.
Though everyone kept telling me to take good care of myself, inner conflict divided my mind for this reason: On one side, intuition suggested my need for space while on the other, intution suggested that if I spent less time with Mom, while she was still mourning so deeply, she'd feel abandoned. Whenever I tried to discuss how sad the depth of her mourning made me feel, Mom's response was consistent: I can't help it, Annie.
In response to my having once said: Mom, I have to return to the land of the living—Mom replied—Well, I can't.
Interestingly, I'd noticed that Mom's cheerful smile appeared whenever she and I spent time with family and friends. It was when we spent time alone that the depth of her loneliness was revealed. Mom, I'd say, you're like two people. Why do you smile so readily whenever we're not alone?
I want people to want to be with me, Annie.
Mom, I need your smile, too.
Well then, who can I really be myself with—who will I talk to about how I really feel?
A therapist, Mom.
I don't need therapy.
Mom, you don't need therapy as long as you have me …
I began to invite others to join us when we were together until Mom asked me to do that less often. For the first few years after Dad's death, Mom, who'd been very social, felt comfortable with very few people.
Mom, there's a grief group that I'd like to go to with you, and it's right near your house.
I don't need it, Annie.
Well, I think I do—so will you humor me and come?
When Mom agreed, I felt hopeful.
We walked into a large room where at least twenty men and women, maybe twenty-five—some Mom's age, some mine—sat in a circle of chairs. Every one of them had lost a spouse. Some, like Mom were new to the group, others, who'd become friends, greeted each other with warmth. Those who had attended for a while helped those whose grief hung fresh with a sense of heaviness in the air. As conversation circled round to Mom and me, we introduced ourselves, and my spirit pulsed with hope that Mom, listening to those who were experiencing the same feelings that she'd continued to express to me, would seeking support and form new friendships within the group, but that was not to be. Instead, I watched Mom's smiling demeanor tell everyone in the circle how close we were and well she was doing.
Though Mom chose not to attend, again, I returned until the facilitator kindly suggested that a care giving group might serve my needs—and though I believed in the value of therapy as much then as I do now, my spirit had not yet sunk into that quicksand of despair, which would cause me to seek out a care giving group—though that would change when my loving efforts could no longer hold both heads above water. As another two or three years passed before I felt the need to seek help for myself, my quest into self awareness—which eventually identified the guilt trip that I'd sent myself on since the age of three—remained buried in my subconscious, numbed behind my wall of denial.
Throughout my lifetime, whenever I'd talked about Janet, I'd make reference to the baby's death.
When filling out family histories in doctors' offices, I'd always written 'Lauren' under siblings and though I'd checked 'living', it never once occurred to me to add 'Janet' and check 'deceased'.
Why not? I'd not consciously perceived of Janet as my sibling, who'd lived and died. I'd simply (?) thought of Janet as having been my mother and father's child.
At the age of three, my defense system (the self protective portion of my brain) had submerged my overwhelmed state of confusion, fear and pain into a deep freeze within my subconscious. Then, after locking those raw emotions out of my realm of consciousness, my defense system swallowed the key.
In this way did Mother Nature offer my cheerful spirit safe passage to go forth on its merry way, whistling through each day—while I'd scratch myself raw each wakeful night, highlighting the fact that a person's subconscious sense of confusion, fear and pain feels more invasive than the conscious mind perceives is true. In short, I'd spent my life walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop—which is what happened when we lost Dad as suddenly as Janet … suggesting that both Mom and I had lots to learn about—ourselves …
Upon reflection, I'd grown up perceiving of this tragic episode in our lives as my parents' loss, not mine, until my father's sudden death catalyzed a change in our family dynamics that proved utterly unexpected, and not until I hit bottom, necessitating my engaging in therapy, did I gain insight into the fact that time, alone, does not heal all wounds—most especially raw wounds, which remain subconsciously blocked from conscious memory—as in—no pain/no gain. In short, I couldn't unfreeze the pain buried in my subconscious until I'd suffered a melt down of my own …
During the first two years after Dad's death, Janet began to come to mind much more frequently than ever before. And here's what made each of those mysterious moments feel surreal: Whenever Janet came to mind, tears began to cascade down my cheeks. I'd feel no sadness—yet. No fear. No guilt. No emotion, other than confusion. It seemed as though my tears would suddenly flow, as though all on their own and just wouldn't quit. As those tears flowed freely only when I was alone, how curiously confounding was that!
At some point, this conundrum aroused a dreaded sense of deja vu, which sparked my need to explore whatever was catalyzing this viseral reaction to emerge. As body, mind and spirit are connected, my quest into self awareness begin.
When we think about the brain, it's common for the thought processing center or memory bank to come to mind. In truth, our brains are much more complex than that.
The brain is a delicate instrument, composed of many interrelated parts. As one part of the brain serves as a subterranean storehouse for raw emotions, often times, today's experience causes that storehouse to spring a leak. If we compare the brain at work to an automobile, made up of complex interactive components, then guess what proves in need of a tune up if we want our lives to run smoothly? Otherwise, the decisions we make won't take us to where intuition suggests that we really need to go if our spirits are to soar more freely than ever before …
At times when we can't believe what a person said or did, we say: What were you thinking?
When that person responds with a confused shrug of the shoulders, we'd be wise to ask: Well, what were you feeling?—because in addition to storing memorable experiences, perceptions, misperceptions and facts in one portion of the brain, we store emotional reactions from years past, as well.
Just as facts emerge from storage, the same is true of yesteryear's emotional reactions, whether they'd been peaceful, joyful, impassioned, angry, shy or too painful to bear. Emotion too painful to bare to oneself signals Mother Nature to call upon the defense system to build a protective wall that numbs us to the depth of unhealed fear, guilt or despair …
Your brain and mine store emotion too painful to 'bare' in a locked storage unit, labeled DENIAL …
Saturday, June 28, 2014
1063 NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! REVISITED 6
6
2002
Introspection led me to ask my mother several questions:
Mom, isn’t it possible that after Grandpa’s and Janet’s abrupt ‘disappearances’, those traumatic changes may have caused my next stage of development to swerve away from the norm? I've often heard how Grandpa Yacob adored me. That he'd brag to anyone with an ear. That he'd bound into the apartment, so eager to see me that no one could stop him from waking me. Each time I’ve listened to you tell someone that as a small child I'd never said—no—I've always wondered why that was true. And I've yet to figure out why I'd eat till I threw up—until you called the doctor, who asked how much was placed on my plate. Aren't you curious as to why I didn’t just close my mouth and push my plate away? Whenever you tell someone how I'd walk quietly away, scratching at my arms while complying with any request that displeased me, I wonder—why did I do whatever was asked of me?”
We swung in silence for a few seconds before I continued: That level of cooperation isn’t natural for any child, Mom, especially not a first-born, as fully spirited as I was. Character traits, which shape up during our first five years, weave ever more deeply into our personality patterns throughout every stage of life. Even now, inner conflict arises whenever I need to refuse a request. ‘People pleasers aren’t born, Mom; people pleasers develop for a reason.
But Annie, no one demanded anything more of you than of any other child. You were just very agreeable.
No one had to be demanding of me, Mom. I'm questioning what made me so demanding of myself. Remember the home movie that always makes us laugh?
They all make us laugh, Annie (this wins my smile)
I know, Mom. I mean the movie where I can't be more than three. My hands are on my hips; my body language is clearly declaring an angrily assertive stance, and my mouth is motoring a mile a minute, giving Uncle Jerry 'what for'! Uncle Jerry was a big guy with a temper. Not the kind of guy a docile little girl would mess with. The fact that I gave myself clearance to mess with his disposition suggests a shift in my self confidence, soon after that. My swerve away from any confrontation suggests detachment from some strength, which had been mine. I need to know which strength got lost, so I can win it back.
I can't believe what keeps your mind busy, Annie. Like, why are you asking so many questions about Janet, lately?
Actually, I'm not sure, Mom. Maybe it's because one thing leads to another. Ever since I read Rudolph Dreikur's book, CHILDREN THE CHALLENGE, when my kids were small, I've been fasinated by the interactive workings of the brain. While one part of the brain allows us to carve pathways toward reaching difficult goals, our defense system builds walls that blind us to how often dismiss our needs and frustrate ourselves. As Dreikur's book inspired me to read many more, I came to understand how uniquely channeled each person's thought processor becomes during our earliest developmental years. Lately, I've been drawn toward learning about denial and self awareness, and recently, 'something' sparked my need to know how Janet's death may have influenced personality changes within me ...
2002
Introspection led me to ask my mother several questions:
But Annie, no one demanded anything more of you than of any other child. You were just very agreeable.
No one had to be demanding of me, Mom. I'm questioning what made me so demanding of myself. Remember the home movie that always makes us laugh?
They all make us laugh, Annie (this wins my smile)
I know, Mom. I mean the movie where I can't be more than three. My hands are on my hips; my body language is clearly declaring an angrily assertive stance, and my mouth is motoring a mile a minute, giving Uncle Jerry 'what for'! Uncle Jerry was a big guy with a temper. Not the kind of guy a docile little girl would mess with. The fact that I gave myself clearance to mess with his disposition suggests a shift in my self confidence, soon after that. My swerve away from any confrontation suggests detachment from some strength, which had been mine. I need to know which strength got lost, so I can win it back.
I can't believe what keeps your mind busy, Annie. Like, why are you asking so many questions about Janet, lately?
Actually, I'm not sure, Mom. Maybe it's because one thing leads to another. Ever since I read Rudolph Dreikur's book, CHILDREN THE CHALLENGE, when my kids were small, I've been fasinated by the interactive workings of the brain. While one part of the brain allows us to carve pathways toward reaching difficult goals, our defense system builds walls that blind us to how often dismiss our needs and frustrate ourselves. As Dreikur's book inspired me to read many more, I came to understand how uniquely channeled each person's thought processor becomes during our earliest developmental years. Lately, I've been drawn toward learning about denial and self awareness, and recently, 'something' sparked my need to know how Janet's death may have influenced personality changes within me ...
Friday, June 27, 2014
1062 NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! REVISITED 5
5
2002
I nod agreeably, thinking of how much I miss my dad when Mom says: More often than not, it feels tragic to lose a husband, wife, or parents.
Then Mom grows quietly pensive, and as one thought leads to the next, my mind drifts toward the magnification of tragedy when irretrievable loss is stunningly unexpected. And when that stunningly unexpected loss is your child, suggesting irreversible loss is out of order, shock coupled with tragedy magnifies immeasurably if parental responsibility is riddled with guilt.
After a moment, Mom’s next reveal recaptures my undivided attention: When you lose the person who has shared every aspect of your life, both the good and the bad, over sixty years, that loss feels impossible to accept. I hate when people say I’m ‘lucky’ that Dad went so fast. The person who dies suddenly is the lucky one, not the person who’s left to live the end of life, alone. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, and I always wonder if he really knew how much I loved him.
As the depth of my mother's loneliness at living alone for the first time in her life at the age of 87 stays with me 24/7, my heart floods with compassion when I reply: Of course he knew, Mom—actions speak louder than words.
I don’t know, Annie. I wasn’t demonstrative the way he was with me. And now that he's gone, I regret that, every day.
As the intimate nature of our conversation swings between past and present and our thoughts separate during moments of silent reflection, I think about something I'd read: In order for the spirit to thrive, life challenges us to gain strength in these ways:
We’re challenged to embrace people whose thoughts differ from our own.
We’re challenged to embrace change by seeking insight into personal growth (like baby birds, ready to fly free of the nest, it behooves us, no matter our age, to recognize where parental control may still reign subconsciously supreme).
2014
Today’s train of thought suggests that throughout every stage of life, each person is challenged to absorb a balanced view of that which fate places upon each of our plates, suggesting that as the circle of life cycles round, some may receive unexpected gifts of love while others experience irretrievable loss of beloved family and friends until ultimately, each of us must let go of life, itself. I've come to believe that feeling guilty when love swings my way makes no sense at all.
At that earlier time while swinging next to Mom, I'd found it impossible to enjoy my good fortune whenever thoughts of a loved one in pain came to mind. At that earlier time, I'd no clue that while others felt compassion, I'd experienced empathy too often for my own good. And I'd certainly had no clue that the empathy I'd felt had been laced with undeserved guilt.
At that earlier time while swinging next to Mom, I'd found it impossible to enjoy my good fortune whenever thoughts of a loved one in pain came to mind. At that earlier time, I'd no clue that while others felt compassion, I'd experienced empathy too often for my own good. And I'd certainly had no clue that the empathy I'd felt had been laced with undeserved guilt.
As time spent in reflection continues to rebalance my view of fate and freedom of choice, I've come to see my way clear to accepting 'gifts' that life offers to me, most especially when that 'gift' offers my spirit sound reason to thrive. Though I'd not been able to express that insight in words, until recently, here's what tells me that I'd harbored an intuitive awareness of taking good care of my spirit for many years: One evening, while facilitating a seminar, I'd stood before an audience of senior citizens—who'd responded with a communal gasp when this insight flew out of my mouth:
*At the end of my life, I'm going to figure out what it takes to ensure that my strength of spirit lasts one second longer than my body's last intake of breath.
Both of my parents were in the audience, beaming up at me, that night. Upon reflection, I wonder what might have changed for the better had I thought to discuss that insight with my mom, while we'd nestled lovingly, side by side, on my swing. If I'd said: 'Mom, it's as important to take good care of your spirit as it is to take care of your body then perhaps she and I could have sidestepped that which fate and choice had in store for our relationship after my dad had been gone for two years …
At this point in my life, experience suggests several reasons for consciously seeking insight into shoring up personal strengths at every age and stage—most especially as life winds down:
First up is the strength inherent in forgiveness when the judgments of loved ones are based in anxious mind sets, because anxiety breeds negativity.
Second is the strength to accept this fact: My key can't unlock anyone's subconscious anxieties or undeserved guilt trips but my own. As I'd exhausted my mind and spirit while trying to modify the negatively focused mind sets of loved ones—more than once—you'll not see me wander, blindly, into that dark maze, again.
Today, I maintain a semblance of inner peace by forgiving myself for being as human as is true of everyone I love. And rather than looking back with regret, I keep Michelangelo’s response at the end of his long life in the forefront of my mind: Ancora Emparo … I'm still learning …
Having learned that something of value may be gleaned from every person’s reaction to me, I defuse frustration, resentment and disappointment by consciously embracing the heartfelt strength of offering unconditional love, which neutralizes my negative judgments by consciously considering human vulnerability, all around.
If you ask how it's possible to consciously transform anger into acceptance, laced with forgiveness, here is what works for me: Before replying to a judgement call that I consider a misjudgment, I allow my anger to bubble up while taking a time out. Sometimes I need a very lengthy time out. As my anger defuses in time out, I free my instinctive, defensive reactions to release in private. Upon consciously calming my natural reaction down, I make good use of reflection to rebalance my think tank. Once my whole brain feels calm, I remind myself to offer the other person that which he or she had not offered to me: the benefit of the doubt. Then—rather than doubling the tension in the air by flinging my share of insults around—I can ask questions. If answers to my questions are pulsing with negatively focused assumptions that attack my best character traits, I can respond lucidly with a balanced sense of details, which the other person's negative mindset has forgotten or missed. Time out works for me in that my own defensive tension must uncoil before my ego's natural impulse toward vindictiveness is replaced by a solution-seeking frame of mind. Since insight into time out serves my think tank well, consistently, you can see why it’s not just for kids.
The fact that my think tank is well practiced at having developed this plan of action for myself, allows me to take an immediate time out on the spot, suggesting that while others are stamping, yelling, fuming, flinging insults and crossing boundaries, my mind has been trained to remain cool under fire…
When I remain cool, defensive tension based in fear or anger does not coil up and spring forth. Instead of doubling the amount of negatively charged tension, shooting back and forth like bullets zinging through the air, my love for the other person, who is obviously in as much pain as I am, taps into compassion. And thus—upon halving the defensiveness that keeps a relationship stuck in a dark maze of mental confusion—I work to move myself one step forward toward facilitating a joyful reconnection sometime down the road.
Shove hot spots of coiled resentment at each other (or under the rug), over long, and watch embers of defensive self-protection burst into flames, again and again. As always, addressing hot spots—or not—is a matter of timing, frame of mind, and personal choice.
When I feel the need to confront a hot spot of on-going conflict, which others persistently deny, strengths, such as hopefulness, patience, courage, humility, positive focus and compassionate self control offer my mind a peaceful sense of solace until readiness to drop pretense and confront reality clarifies on all sides. As life's insights are not absorbed in ABC order, each one's ability to confront or deny reality with clarity intact is determined by how quickly a person's self protective attitude ignites. What makes me say that? It's a proven fact that anxiety, tension and defensive negativity cause the thought processing center of the brain to shut down.
Bottom line: Passion has two sides. Having experienced both sides while growing up, I chose to create and practice methods of self control, laced with love, while instilling positively focused character traits into the minds of my three sons, and over time, I watched a trio of teen aged warriors grow into unique, strong, sensitive men, whose attentiveness proves great fun in the good times as well as buoying spirits, all around, when life’s trials hit long and hard.
2014
Two weeks before Will's radiation began, David flew in.
Tuesday, we had dinner with Steven, Jenna and her husband Steve
(Jenna is our niece. She and Steve recently moved to town :)
(Jenna is our niece. She and Steve recently moved to town :)
Wednesday, Steven and Will saw The Avengers while I enjoyed GNO
Tonight, Barry and Marie fly in
Roots and wings—wings and roots—balance in all things :)
If you ask why it's so difficult to monitor one's own negative judgment calls, I’d reply: *Your brain, like mine, is preprogrammed (hard wired) to judge spontaneously, suggesting that we’re often unaware of how many 'snap judgments' take place inside our heads at times when asking questions would serve us better.
As it proves tough to keep up with life's busy pace, today, I wonder if time spent in introspective reflection is becoming a lost art. If you ask how introspective reflection allows me to communicate more clearly with myself, I'd reply: Reflective thought offers me insight into my assumptive judgement calls. Upon identifying a judgement made in haste, I consciously neutralize my reactiveness until questions are asked and details are forthcoming.
Perhaps it’s said that wisdom comes with age, because at later stages of life our minds have time to ponder over intuition, insight, clarity and balance while our hearts bask in a garden where many joyful gifts of love had been painstakingly nurtured. Today, while spending time with loved ones, my spirit is bouyed by 'something' that feels impossible to explain unless you’re a person, like me, who proves so intrigued by this garden as to attempt to gather a bouquet of words that describe …
'Something', which proves poetic, magical, surprising, delightful and spiritually enlightening, most especially when we are numbered amongst those who are so fortunate as to have received an unexpected gift, so uplifting that to deny its existence offers a great disservice to the heart—and the spirit, as well.
Open the window
Watch the little bird fly free of subconscious restraint
If the bird returns to find
The window shut, locked tight, no key in sight
And if the sunshade blocks out the bright light of insight, suggesting
That that which is achievable remains unattainable—well
Having unwittingly broken my own heart once—
(As you shall see when we review FIRST KISS)
I’ve gained insight into not repeating that sad mistake, again …
And so, when my spirit flags at half mast and
My heart knows what's missing
You'll watch my mind back track until
I come to the fork in the road where
Today's sense of clarity offers me insight into why
My previous choice led me down the beaten path while
Today's choice proves to meet my spirit's personal needs
And so, when my spirit flags at half mast and
My heart knows what's missing
You'll watch my mind back track until
I come to the fork in the road where
Today's sense of clarity offers me insight into why
My previous choice led me down the beaten path while
Today's choice proves to meet my spirit's personal needs
Thursday, June 26, 2014
1061 NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! REVISITED 4
4
2002
2002
“Yes, Annie, that year was very, very sad. As years pass, life and relationships grow complex. When we lost Janet, I learned LIFE’s most difficult lesson. Nothing belongs to us. Not things and certainly not people. That’s especially true about the people we love most. Either we die or they die. It's so hard to accept the fact that death is forever. Whoever lives longest loses an entire generation. Maybe that’s why pious Jews are garbed in white shrouds and buried in pine boxes without personal adornments of any kind. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.”
Placing my arm protectively around my mother's shoulder, our train of thought opens up this memory: “I remember Dad telling me that Grandma Bailey had been so in love with Grandpa Yacob, she'd glowed in his presence. That after he was gone, her spirit never recaptured its spark. That made me wonder what Grandma had been like when Grandpa was alive. I was close with Grandma, and I never thought of her as dispirited.”
“Grandma Bailey loved Grandpa deeply, Annie. Though she regained a happy outlook on life, Dad was right about her spirit. She never recaptured that same zest for life. And having lost Dad, I know exactly how she felt. Most days, I pretend he's in the next room.”
2014
Hero worship is not uncommon in our family
Hero worship is not uncommon in our family
When we love, heartfelt emotion sparkles forth, joyously—and
Personally, I wouldn't have it any other way ...
Though death is irreversible
Decisions, based in inner conflict, are reversible, and
Thus does intuition suggest that
As anxiety calms down, my think tank is capable of
Creating a nourishing soufflé, which
Once fully baked, saves my spirit from falling flat on its face
Not everything is rational, and not everything can be explained. If you don't allow some room for something poetic, for something magical, for something surprising without the need to explain it away, you do a great disservice to your heart … Marc Maron—comedian
Something poetic
Something magical
Something surprising
Something so delightful as not to be rationally explained
And that poetic, magical, surprisingly delightful 'something'
Defines what loving freely, naturally, intuitively, whole-heartedly
Feels like to me …
As it makes good sense to quest toward insight into
Deeper truth, which frees my mind to
Love less exclusively, more expansively than
Had been possible when, as a young woman
My passion had focused upon how best to civilize
A trio of teen-aged warriors into three, strong, sensitive men
I awaken, each day, with a heartfelt passion to gain insight into
'Something' that intrigues me to no end …
And that 'something', which proves
Poetic, magical, surprising, delightful and spiritually enlightening is
The power inherent in LOVING each other intuitively and unconditionally …
Though yesteryear's conflicted trains of thought may not have developed the clarity necessary for creating a fully baked soufle, a relaxed mind may intuitively touch upon the heartfelt ingredient, which had been missing when anxiety had interfered with clarity—I mean, think about it:
Five star chefs do not follow the recipes of others—we create our own :)
And now that this little engine
Has pulled today's train of thought into
A positively focused station
Intuition suggests that as soon as
I wish you a five star day
Ce post est finis :) *****
Personally, I wouldn't have it any other way ...
Though death is irreversible
Decisions, based in inner conflict, are reversible, and
Thus does intuition suggest that
As anxiety calms down, my think tank is capable of
Creating a nourishing soufflé, which
Once fully baked, saves my spirit from falling flat on its face
Not everything is rational, and not everything can be explained. If you don't allow some room for something poetic, for something magical, for something surprising without the need to explain it away, you do a great disservice to your heart … Marc Maron—comedian
Something poetic
Something magical
Something surprising
Something so delightful as not to be rationally explained
And that poetic, magical, surprisingly delightful 'something'
Defines what loving freely, naturally, intuitively, whole-heartedly
Feels like to me …
As it makes good sense to quest toward insight into
Deeper truth, which frees my mind to
Love less exclusively, more expansively than
Had been possible when, as a young woman
My passion had focused upon how best to civilize
A trio of teen-aged warriors into three, strong, sensitive men
I awaken, each day, with a heartfelt passion to gain insight into
'Something' that intrigues me to no end …
And that 'something', which proves
Poetic, magical, surprising, delightful and spiritually enlightening is
The power inherent in LOVING each other intuitively and unconditionally …
Though yesteryear's conflicted trains of thought may not have developed the clarity necessary for creating a fully baked soufle, a relaxed mind may intuitively touch upon the heartfelt ingredient, which had been missing when anxiety had interfered with clarity—I mean, think about it:
Five star chefs do not follow the recipes of others—we create our own :)
And now that this little engine
Has pulled today's train of thought into
A positively focused station
Intuition suggests that as soon as
I wish you a five star day
Ce post est finis :) *****
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
1060 NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! REVISITED 3
3
A moment of review:
“What?” I exclaim, head spinning toward Mom, my foot stopping the swing with a jolt, “November 23rd?” “Mom—Janet died on your wedding anniversary?”
“Yes, Annie. Janet died on our fifth anniversary.”
“OMG! That means every time you and Dad celebrated your anniversary for the next 55 years, you’d relive the pain of Janet's loss. Oh Mom—the more I learn about everything our family endured, the sadder this gets.”
(So, now we know why Jack had been planning a romantic surprise for his sweetheart, Jennie, on that Saturday morning until they returned from shopping to find that during their brief absence, their precious child had passed from this world to the next …)
Man plans and God laughs—or weeps—because who knows better than 'the all-mighty' how precious our time with each loved one proves to be …
If each child felt his true worth, siblings would grow up to be great friends, rather than competitors for their parent's attentions, because deeper truth suggests that loving two people does not imply that one is loved less.
If each child felt his true worth, siblings would grow up to be great friends, rather than competitors for their parent's attentions, because deeper truth suggests that loving two people does not imply that one is loved less.
June 24th, 2014
Will's first radiation treatment took place on Monday afternoon
My colonoscopy took place early on that same morning, and
Thankfully, both procedures went off without a hitch
If you wonder why we'd chosen to schedule both on the same day
Pease trust in the fact that we made that decision for good reason, okay?
Thankfully, both procedures went off without a hitch
If you wonder why we'd chosen to schedule both on the same day
Pease trust in the fact that we made that decision for good reason, okay?
Right before my procedure, Dr. K. asks if I have any questions
No questions, just one instruction ...
With raised eyebrows the colon surgeon asks, and what might that be?
I answer with a smile: Please … no repeat of polyps, this time.
Dr. K's smile responds to mine: I'll do my best.
Upon awakening to hear, 'No polyps, Annie,' my mind relaxes and
My spirit smiles more deeply than before, because—
I love change for the better
I mean, two cancers (Will's and Mom's) followed by the end of
Mom's long life seem like more than enough for one year—right?
Seriously—saying good-bye to our loved ones, no matter how young or old, proves a rough row for the staunchest spirit to hoe …
After my colonoscopy and Will's radiation that afternoon
We made a bee line for Baskin Robbins
Chocolate Fudge for him
Jamaican Almond Fudge for me … and having prepped all day on
Sunday, I savored every lick without a lick of guilt
After all, what does guilt do but slice pleasure in half ...
At times, it's wise for pleasure and self control to go hand in hand
Deeming this one of those times
I'd thought to order a child size scoop. Why?
Because I've come to accept this fact:
Life's pleasures are enjoyed more fully when decisions
Based in emotion are balanced with logic
And here's why that insight proves true:
Whereas passion, alone, can land us in trouble
Logic, alone, dulls the pleasure center of the brain
Knowing this to be true, Mother Nature placed
Emotion and logic, side by side ... You know ...
Like Mom nestling close to me on my swing ...
Over my lifetime, intuition invites me to
Embrace the wisdom inherent in balance in all things
Most especially at those times when
Two good hearted souls are longing to
Return to the drawing board in hopes of
Designing a recipe that will
Combine emotion and logic in such a thought provoking way as to
Create a nutritious soufflé of pleasure balanced with
Considering needs, all around ...
You see, I've literally made it my business to
Train my brain to create delicious, nutritious recipes that
Culminate in change for the better for this reason:
I've learned how often inner conflict runs interference with love
And as that insight proves classically true for one and all
I dive deep into the brainstorming portion of my mind until
A plan that balances passion with logic offers love the opportunity
To soar along side of the bluebird of happiness as never before :)
And if you feel skeptical, please consider this reasoning:
If a human brain can be trained to come up with a plan
Offering a man the opportunity to
Fly to the moon and return safely home
Then how far fetched is it to believe that
The human brain can land on a plan that offers
Two caring hearts an inventive way to resolve inner conflict, so that
Our spirits can feel purely pleasured each time
Life holds forth the promise of enjoying sunny days in the park
I mean, seriously ...
What better use can be made of the human brain than to
Design recipes laced with ingredients that
Sandwich pleasure with peace of mind :)
My spirit smiles more deeply than before, because—
I love change for the better
I mean, two cancers (Will's and Mom's) followed by the end of
Mom's long life seem like more than enough for one year—right?
Seriously—saying good-bye to our loved ones, no matter how young or old, proves a rough row for the staunchest spirit to hoe …
After my colonoscopy and Will's radiation that afternoon
We made a bee line for Baskin Robbins
Chocolate Fudge for him
Jamaican Almond Fudge for me … and having prepped all day on
Sunday, I savored every lick without a lick of guilt
After all, what does guilt do but slice pleasure in half ...
At times, it's wise for pleasure and self control to go hand in hand
Deeming this one of those times
I'd thought to order a child size scoop. Why?
Because I've come to accept this fact:
Life's pleasures are enjoyed more fully when decisions
Based in emotion are balanced with logic
And here's why that insight proves true:
Whereas passion, alone, can land us in trouble
Logic, alone, dulls the pleasure center of the brain
Knowing this to be true, Mother Nature placed
Emotion and logic, side by side ... You know ...
Like Mom nestling close to me on my swing ...
Over my lifetime, intuition invites me to
Embrace the wisdom inherent in balance in all things
Most especially at those times when
Two good hearted souls are longing to
Return to the drawing board in hopes of
Designing a recipe that will
Combine emotion and logic in such a thought provoking way as to
Create a nutritious soufflé of pleasure balanced with
Considering needs, all around ...
You see, I've literally made it my business to
Train my brain to create delicious, nutritious recipes that
Culminate in change for the better for this reason:
I've learned how often inner conflict runs interference with love
And as that insight proves classically true for one and all
I dive deep into the brainstorming portion of my mind until
A plan that balances passion with logic offers love the opportunity
To soar along side of the bluebird of happiness as never before :)
And if you feel skeptical, please consider this reasoning:
If a human brain can be trained to come up with a plan
Offering a man the opportunity to
Fly to the moon and return safely home
Then how far fetched is it to believe that
The human brain can land on a plan that offers
Two caring hearts an inventive way to resolve inner conflict, so that
Our spirits can feel purely pleasured each time
Life holds forth the promise of enjoying sunny days in the park
I mean, seriously ...
What better use can be made of the human brain than to
Design recipes laced with ingredients that
Sandwich pleasure with peace of mind :)
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
1059 NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! REVISITED 2
2
2002
Five and a half decades have passed since Janet’s death. My mother and I sit, side by side, on the double porch swing, which hangs from ropes, fastened to the ceiling of my back yard patio. While rocking, peacefully, gazing beyond the tallest peak of 'my' mountain, which rises majestically behind my house up into the expanse of the desert's brilliant, blue sky, I listen intently to Mom, describing her depression following Janet’s 'disappearance' from our lives. I remember asking, “Mom, who took care of me? Grandma Ella?”
2002
Five and a half decades have passed since Janet’s death. My mother and I sit, side by side, on the double porch swing, which hangs from ropes, fastened to the ceiling of my back yard patio. While rocking, peacefully, gazing beyond the tallest peak of 'my' mountain, which rises majestically behind my house up into the expanse of the desert's brilliant, blue sky, I listen intently to Mom, describing her depression following Janet’s 'disappearance' from our lives. I remember asking, “Mom, who took care of me? Grandma Ella?”
For a moment, my question sweeps my mother’s thoughts more deeply into that sorrowful time. Then, as her mind re-engages with me, Mom's soft, brown eyes turn toward mine, and my beautiful, newly widowed, white haired, eighty-eight year old, close friend replies, “I really don’t remember who took care of you, Annie. We were all in a state of shock. I think you were taken to Grandma Bailey’s.”
“But, Mom, Janet’s death was only four months after Grandpa's massive, heart attack. Grandma Bailey must have been in deep mourning, because Grandpa’s death, at fifty-two, was utterly unexpected. I remember Dad telling me how much Grandma had adored Grandpa. That her life had revolved around his. The fact that two, shocking deaths hit everyone in our close knit family in a matter of weeks suggests tremendous shock waves of grief engulfing everyone in Grandma Bailey's house right before Janet's loss hit our own.”
Nodding her head in thoughtful agreement, Mom’s eyes look troubled and as I watch her gazing into a faraway time, she continues, “That was a terribly sad year for everyone.”
“Mom, think of the heavy burden Dad must have carried after losing his father and daughter, so abruptly. Aunt Sari and Aunt Risa were single, young women, who being in their twenties, still lived at home with Grandma B. Since Dad worked with his father, Grandpa’s death made Dad the head of both households and the family business, as well. When did he have time to grieve for either loss? After Janet’s death, where did Dad pack his grief when he left the apartment, each morning, and arrived at the store, which he'd run with his dad?"
As Mom and I glide back and forth, the even cadence of the swing feels as soothing as a balm, washing over old wounds, which I suddenly realize had been in need of healing within—me. Until that moment, I'd considered my Grandpa's death and Janet's death my parents' loss. While my mother and I swing for a few solemn moments in companionable silence, my perceptions sharpen, and as my train of thought expands to include the confounded reactions of a three year old child, I open up with: “There’s so much we don’t know about our parents’ lives. So much we don’t understand about the under currents, which influence the earliest years of each person's character development.”
At this point, Mom goes on to tell me how my Grandpa Yacob adored me. That he'd grab every eye and bend every ear with photos and stories of 'his' Annie. That he'd stride into our apartment and awaken me from a deep sleep, lifting me out of my bed, so eager was he to see my smile. Hear my laugh. Enjoy my antics.
Then, one day, he was gone … without a trace … never to welcome me into his embrace … too soon, too soon …
After several moments of silence, I listen up as Mom's memory speaks aloud, again:
"Janet’s tiny coffin had been placed at the foot of Grandpa’s brand new grave"—then my mother's mind jogs, releasing this long-forgotten memory: “No. Wait. Janet had her own grave. Next to Grandpa’s. I remember a small headstone with a bird in flight—as though, one day, Janet had simply flown away.
Then, one day, he was gone … without a trace … never to welcome me into his embrace … too soon, too soon …
After several moments of silence, I listen up as Mom's memory speaks aloud, again:
"Janet’s tiny coffin had been placed at the foot of Grandpa’s brand new grave"—then my mother's mind jogs, releasing this long-forgotten memory: “No. Wait. Janet had her own grave. Next to Grandpa’s. I remember a small headstone with a bird in flight—as though, one day, Janet had simply flown away.
Still nestling beside me on the swing, Mom’s memory sweeps over this series of momentous dates: “Grandpa died in July of 1946; I gave birth to Janet several weeks later on September 4th; then she died on November 23rd and …”
Monday, June 23, 2014
1058 NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! REVISITED 1
1
Thank goodness, the months following Lauren’s birth pass, cautiously, uneventfully, cheerfully until one evening when Jack, finally, convinces Jennie to leave her two, small, healthy daughters in the care of his sister, our adoring Aunt Sari, so he and his sweetheart can enjoy each other’s company away from the family. Aunt Sari, the elder of Dad's two kid sisters, is not chosen as caretaker, because Mom has lost trust in Grandma. Grandma is wintering in Miami Beach at the home of her eldest son as is her habit.
When my parents return at about 10 PM, Mom makes a beeline for her bedroom, and leaning over the railing of the crib, she places her palm, lightly, on her infant daughter's back to make certain that Lauren is breathing. This is Mom's habit—several times during each of my sister's naps. *Subconscious fear never strays far from the conscious mind.
Each night, Mom pulls my sister's crib snugly against her side of the double bed, which she shares with Dad. Throughout the night, Mom sleeps lightly, facing Lauren, with one arm between the slats of the crib. In this way her hand, resting protectively on her infant's back, rises and falls gently in time with Lauren's intake and exhale of breath. Each morning, before making the bed, Mom pushes the crib back to the wall. *When fear runs the show, inner peace is displaced by a push, pull, push, pull reaction, which lasts indefinitely.
In retrospect, Dad must have been quite convincing to get Mom to leave the house while Lauren is sound asleep. Does Mom enjoy their night out or does anxiety get the best of her?
Upon returning home, later that evening, a coincidence occurs, which provides us with two insights:
—Two situations, which, at first glance, seem exactly the same, may prove clearly dissimilar once the surface is pierced and details distinguish one experience from the other.
—No matter our most valiant efforts to understand conception, life, love, friendship, luck, fate, human nature, truth and justice, illness, good and evil, death, innate intelligence, denial, intuitive thought and the impassioned sensitivities of human emotion, unnerving mysteries prevail. Knowing this, we tread carefully until a leap of faith proves vital to personal growth and inner peace.
Before I describe the arcane set of events, which are about to terrify and mystify my parents—again— please note that this story is not meant to provide insight into the existence of a protective or wrathful God. In fact, for the most part, my stories do not express my beliefs about God or insight into the meaning of life and death. My purpose in writing this saga expresses this belief: Much of what we consider to be resultant of fate proves to be a combination of luck, wit, creativity, imagination, attitude, fear, courage, self awareness (or lack of) and choice.
My stories showcase classic vulnerabilities evolving into personal strengths each time experience offers me reason to uphold heartfelt values while figuring out how to meet my needs by employing positive focus until my train of thought pulls into a station where a simple plan shapes up inside my mind, allowing my spirit to thrive more whole heartedly than ever before. Whew! You might want to read that twice. I know I did!
Before I describe the arcane set of events, which are about to terrify and mystify my parents—again— please note that this story is not meant to provide insight into the existence of a protective or wrathful God. In fact, for the most part, my stories do not express my beliefs about God or insight into the meaning of life and death. My purpose in writing this saga expresses this belief: Much of what we consider to be resultant of fate proves to be a combination of luck, wit, creativity, imagination, attitude, fear, courage, self awareness (or lack of) and choice.
My stories showcase classic vulnerabilities evolving into personal strengths each time experience offers me reason to uphold heartfelt values while figuring out how to meet my needs by employing positive focus until my train of thought pulls into a station where a simple plan shapes up inside my mind, allowing my spirit to thrive more whole heartedly than ever before. Whew! You might want to read that twice. I know I did!
When I reflect upon that which fate has in store for my parents on this night when Dad finally persuades Mom to have some fun, I’m reminded of how courageous our spirits must be if we hope to live life to the fullest rather than allowing fear to reign supreme …
Sunday, June 22, 2014
1057 ONE INSIGHT LEADS TO THE NEXT UNTIL COMPLEX REACTIONS SIMPLIFY, AT LAST!
June 22, 2014
Lately, I'm having trouble sleeping
Ever since I began EMDR therapy
Trouble sleeping has come to mean that
A recent insight, which has filtered from
My subconscious into my conscious mind is hinting at
The next insight, which needs to emerge so that
Eventually, a string of insights will coalesce into
A spotlight, highlighting the fearsome mystery, which
I can feel lumbering around, deep inside, though
I've not yet peeled away enough of the layered wall separating
That memory from my conscious mind—
After sleeping fitfully, last night
I awakened with 'that feeling', which indicates
My sixth sense suggesting that with stillness
A new insight, percolating behind my defensive wall, may
Bubble up just as water bubbles up so hotly as to
Filter its way into coffee grounds which simulate the darkness that
Remains hidden in the subconscious portion of my mind
If you ask why my subconscious hides this darkness from
My conscious awarness, I'd reply:
This defensive wall is Mother Nature's way
Of protecting the ebullience of my
Self confident, high spirited smile from feeling
So engulfed in darkness as to cause me to grow too anxious
To liberate my intelligence to percolate away until
One cup full of insight is brewed at a time, and
In this patient way does my adult mind gain control over
My entire think tank, so that the ghost from the past, which
Has haunted me ever since childhood
Cannot overwhelm my sense of hope that suggests
It's better to spend more of my energy enjoying
The greater part of my good fortune, today, than wallowing in fear of
That painful secret, which needs to be purged, one insight at a time
If you ask me to share
The insight that filtered into my conscious mind after
I awakened to intuition whispering into my ear
I'll do my best to clarify that which still feels
Kind of fuzzy within my mind's eye:
First, let's see how last week's insight led to
The insight that lit up inside my mind, today:
As a child, who'd had reason to
Develop a fear of frowns, above all other fears
I lost sight of my right to say NO whenever
An authority figure expressed
A personal need that 'my need to please' could feed
And now that those two insights have merged into one
We begin to see how
One dark and mystifying experience will
Lead me directly into the next …
As today's insight pinpoints the portion of my voice which was lost
We can see a domino effect beginning to build in that
One unresolved problem will lead to a string of problems that
Will have seemed unrelated until insight into my greatest fear
Allows us to tie together
The most puzzling aspects of my life, and as
My 500 piece puzzle continues to come together
You and I will see a pattern shape up to which I'd been blind until
Intuition led me to quest ever more deeply into
Self discovery in hopes of understanding emotional reactions which had
Continued to grow so complex that
My sixth sense sought a path whereby I have back traced through
Each stage of my life until trains of thought, adopted during childhood
Began to emerge and
Upon revisiting a series of experiences, which prove to be related
You and I will be able to identify, which of my attitudes
Absorbed during childhood are in need of review
As we've already gained insight into how problem #1 (fear of frowns)
Led straight toward problem #2 (swallowing my right to say NO)
This newly conceived pattern will surely continue to develop while
You and I revisit the problems that
I'd faced on my own in posts entitled
Bully For Me and First Kiss ...
On second thought
Here is where patience proves necessary, once again, because
Those stories must wait in line until you and I have revisited
An experience that shook up my family when I was four, and so
In order to move my saga forward in an orderly fashion
We can expect to begin our review of
NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!
When next we meet …
Lately, I'm having trouble sleeping
Ever since I began EMDR therapy
Trouble sleeping has come to mean that
A recent insight, which has filtered from
My subconscious into my conscious mind is hinting at
The next insight, which needs to emerge so that
Eventually, a string of insights will coalesce into
A spotlight, highlighting the fearsome mystery, which
I can feel lumbering around, deep inside, though
I've not yet peeled away enough of the layered wall separating
That memory from my conscious mind—
After sleeping fitfully, last night
I awakened with 'that feeling', which indicates
My sixth sense suggesting that with stillness
A new insight, percolating behind my defensive wall, may
Bubble up just as water bubbles up so hotly as to
Filter its way into coffee grounds which simulate the darkness that
Remains hidden in the subconscious portion of my mind
If you ask why my subconscious hides this darkness from
My conscious awarness, I'd reply:
This defensive wall is Mother Nature's way
Of protecting the ebullience of my
Self confident, high spirited smile from feeling
So engulfed in darkness as to cause me to grow too anxious
To liberate my intelligence to percolate away until
One cup full of insight is brewed at a time, and
In this patient way does my adult mind gain control over
My entire think tank, so that the ghost from the past, which
Has haunted me ever since childhood
Cannot overwhelm my sense of hope that suggests
It's better to spend more of my energy enjoying
The greater part of my good fortune, today, than wallowing in fear of
That painful secret, which needs to be purged, one insight at a time
If you ask me to share
The insight that filtered into my conscious mind after
I awakened to intuition whispering into my ear
I'll do my best to clarify that which still feels
Kind of fuzzy within my mind's eye:
First, let's see how last week's insight led to
The insight that lit up inside my mind, today:
As a child, who'd had reason to
Develop a fear of frowns, above all other fears
I lost sight of my right to say NO whenever
An authority figure expressed
A personal need that 'my need to please' could feed
And now that those two insights have merged into one
We begin to see how
One dark and mystifying experience will
Lead me directly into the next …
As today's insight pinpoints the portion of my voice which was lost
We can see a domino effect beginning to build in that
One unresolved problem will lead to a string of problems that
Will have seemed unrelated until insight into my greatest fear
Allows us to tie together
The most puzzling aspects of my life, and as
My 500 piece puzzle continues to come together
You and I will see a pattern shape up to which I'd been blind until
Intuition led me to quest ever more deeply into
Self discovery in hopes of understanding emotional reactions which had
Continued to grow so complex that
My sixth sense sought a path whereby I have back traced through
Each stage of my life until trains of thought, adopted during childhood
Began to emerge and
Upon revisiting a series of experiences, which prove to be related
You and I will be able to identify, which of my attitudes
Absorbed during childhood are in need of review
As we've already gained insight into how problem #1 (fear of frowns)
Led straight toward problem #2 (swallowing my right to say NO)
This newly conceived pattern will surely continue to develop while
You and I revisit the problems that
I'd faced on my own in posts entitled
Bully For Me and First Kiss ...
On second thought
Here is where patience proves necessary, once again, because
Those stories must wait in line until you and I have revisited
An experience that shook up my family when I was four, and so
In order to move my saga forward in an orderly fashion
We can expect to begin our review of
NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!
When next we meet …
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