2002
Swinging ...
"I've always been concerned about the plight of children throughout the world for this reason: In order to embrace a sense of joy as a natural part of life, a child's sense of security depends upon the long term care on the part of responsible, compassionate adults. When adult minds wander ever more deeply into confusion, children are led into mind mazes where disillusionment darkens by the day.
Currently, I believe we're all in need of transitioning consciously toward positive change, because, at all ages, both genders need free time to delight in play time as well as personal-growth-time-on 'Walden Pond'. At every stage of life we need to feel nourished by generosity of spirit. We need to be led by compassionate leaders, practiced in brainstorming toward resolving confounding conflicts by openly seeking positively focused guidance for themselves. We need to feel nurtured by tender, loving hugs. We need to feel appreciated for work well done without allowing a build up of tension from inner stress to drive us into early graves. Adults are in need of emotional security, financial security and down time in which to relax and offer each other—the pleasures of hot moments in bed.
Currently, I believe we're all in need of transitioning consciously toward positive change, because, at all ages, both genders need free time to delight in play time as well as personal-growth-time-on 'Walden Pond'. At every stage of life we need to feel nourished by generosity of spirit. We need to be led by compassionate leaders, practiced in brainstorming toward resolving confounding conflicts by openly seeking positively focused guidance for themselves. We need to feel nurtured by tender, loving hugs. We need to feel appreciated for work well done without allowing a build up of tension from inner stress to drive us into early graves. Adults are in need of emotional security, financial security and down time in which to relax and offer each other—the pleasures of hot moments in bed.
Before we can meet our needs, our minds need down time to reconsider which hyper-vigilant tendencies prioritize our energy and time in self defeating ways. If I sound idealistic, you know what 'they' say: Reach for the moon, and you'll land on a star. Of course we don't live in a perfect world, but the point that I'm making is this: when the middle class is working like crazy to survive, too many kids experience failure to thrive.”
“Annie—slow down. Are you saying that you plan to write about—sex—in your stories?”
"Yes, Mom. Why are you so shocked?"
"Well, sex is private."
"I know that. On the other hand, while leading classes in open communications, I've learned to open up about topics, which most people feel are taboo. Once I open up, class participants do, too. In fact, for the most part, I prefer to engage in conversation with young minds, because most of my peers react with shock at what I feel free to say.
"Yes, Mom. Why are you so shocked?"
"Well, sex is private."
"I know that. On the other hand, while leading classes in open communications, I've learned to open up about topics, which most people feel are taboo. Once I open up, class participants do, too. In fact, for the most part, I prefer to engage in conversation with young minds, because most of my peers react with shock at what I feel free to say.
Mom, if my story concerns every aspect of family life, how can I not write about sex? Since all aspects of life interconnect in one way or another, my stories will show how a healthy sexual relationship feeds one vital aspect of human hunger just as oxygen or bread and water feed another. We're so busy suggesting that sex is 'dirty' (as in dirty minded???) that we forget to consider this point of view: A healthy sex drive stems from Mother Nature gifting us with the potential to provide each other with an exceedingly pleasurable experience while sustaining the human species' basic instinct to procreate. Seriously, when emotion runs so deep that words fail us, what more intimate way can a man and woman express the depth of their passion than by offering each other the act of love.
Why think 'dirty' when 'enticingly spicy' is what actually feeds fantasy? Though the sexual act, itself , is driven by lust, it's love that creates the aura of heartfelt holiness, which the soulful spirit craves."
Why think 'dirty' when 'enticingly spicy' is what actually feeds fantasy? Though the sexual act, itself , is driven by lust, it's love that creates the aura of heartfelt holiness, which the soulful spirit craves."
"I don't know if that's true of men, Annie."
"It's not true of anyone whose natural tendency to satisfy a wide variety of personal needs has been societally anesthetized, early on. Unfortunately, so many move through life with no clue as to needs, which were repressed during our youth that we soldier our way through some of life's greatest delights.
It's a well known fact that societal dictate brainwashes everyone, if not in one way then another. Each time I hear 'dirty', my mind rebels, compelling me to ask: Why not 'spicy? When I hear boob, I think: Why replace breast with such an ugly word? If a rose is a rose is a rose, why can't a breast be called a breast? When a guy is a jerk, why call him a dick? I know it's all slang, but does slang need to be self demeaning? These are all mixed messages, and mixed messages mess with our minds.
I plan to ask why discussing sex openly, honestly and respectfully in mixed company so often feels like breaking a taboo—and if you think that's not true, you're in denial as to how often the comfort zones of couples and friends skirt around that issue. Though that's less true of young adults, today, a sense of macho bravado still rules, suggesting our egos have a long way to go before we go toe to toe with this deeper truth: Much of today's population feels deeply conflicted about sex. Like everything else, sexual experiences exist at many levels, suggesting that 'having' sex with one partner does not equate with ascending to experience the sublime with another.
I believe that, for the most part, engaging in sex does not equate with the art of making love. I believe sex is just one aspect of human development that gets stuck in a rut during the adolescent stage of life. I mean, who proves more egocentric than a teen?
The art of making love blends experiential sensitivity with depth of thought. How many adults resort to a quick release when enjoying a sensuous banquet awaits the adventurous heart?
One look at today's kids is all I need to confirm my belief that today's attitudes, concerning sexuality, continue to be more confounding, less satisfying in healthy, well balanced ways than we'd think. I listen to more men and women spouting passive aggressive barbs at their sexual partners than you'd believe. Once passion for a lover gets buried beneath layers of resentment, the suppression of sexual tension heightens levels of stress rather than providing release.
Mom, you’d be surprised at how many parents in my classes, today, can't talk to their five year olds about sex without turning beet red. That's why I recommend 'Where Did I Come From? ' It's such a funny book that parent and child can laugh, together, naturally, thus masking any embarrassment that we don't want our kids to catch."
"You think parents should initiate discussions about sex with five year olds?"
Well, considering that I was five when my cousin told me how I was conceived, and the fact that I didn't believe her or you when you confirmed that which she hurled at me while we fought over a toy, I'd say, Absolutely, yes!
I remember feeling shocked that you and Dad would get naked and do that ... especially with Grandma in our apartment. Gosh! Now that I think about it, it wasn't the sex act that shocked me senseless. It was Grandma's attitude about nudity that aroused my feelings of shame on you."
After a pensive moment, which allows my mind the time it needs to soak in that last insight, I go on ...
"I caution parents to initiate these discussions, early on, when a child's curiosity is so natural that no question is off limits, because no topic feels embarrassing to the voracious minds of the very young. Embarrassment is modeled and absorbed.
At five, the word breast feels no different from the word nose, elbow or tushy. When my child's curiosity was first aroused, I wanted to be the first one he came to for information and guidance, and that comfort zone does not develop between parent and child once kids learn about sex through the grapevine from their peers."
At that point in my dissertation, a thought strikes me funny, and Mom laughs as well once this memory floats into her ear: I'll never forget how shocked four year old David was upon realizing that I didn't have penis. After all, he lived in a home filled with four guys and one woman, so his surprise was easy to understand. A few hours after his discovery, he came to find me, and in a reassuring tone, my concerned young son said: 'Don't worry, Mommy. We'll get you one for your birthday." Art Linkletter's audience would have howled with delight.
I have such funny stories to relate, concerning the boys' misperceptions, concerning sex, from the time they were small fry straight through the years when sex ed was taught in jr. high. Picture books, describing sex at the five year old level, are published for good reason, Mom. My favorite has become a classic, titled WHERE DID I COME FROM. Each illustration inspires the giggles. No Barbies or Kens grace these pages.
When Barry and Steven were preteens, asking a plethora of questions, David, who was in kindergarten, showed a healthy interest in everything his brothers did and said. As curiosity, concerning his brothers' questions, led to my fielding questions from son #3, I took WHERE DID I COME FROM off the shelf, and while reading it to David, he and I discussed how babies are conceived.
David found the subject so intriguing as to carry 'The Naked Book', as he called it, under his arm when it was time to get into the car to go to school the next morning. Upon hearing that he'd decided to take it for show and tell, I couldn't help but laugh. This initiated a conversation concerning topics discussed within the family, privately, at home. David was baffled as to why other parents might get upset. Instead of offering my youngest son a hug and kiss at the door of his classroom, I thought it wise to apprise his teacher of that which we'd discusse the previous night—in case David thought to clue the other kids in on this subject, which had fascinated him.
The day before Barry's Bar Mitzvah, my Aunt Helene asked five year-old David if he knew what happens when a Jewish boy turns thirteen. David, beaming with pride in his newfound knowledge, replied: Yes. He grows hair all around his penis. I kid you not.
Aunt Helen's jaw dropped, her face turned beet red and none of the older folk, relaxing in our living room, asked my precocious, young son any questions for quite some time. Being third in line, David's ability to articulate the wealth of knowledge his mind had soaked in by listening proves that we have no clue which discussions go over a child's head while others make a beeline, embedding more deeply into memory than we'd believe... Until sometime later, when what goes in pours out.
If the minds of both genders feel conflicted about mixed messages that we’ve absorbed and unwittingly passed forward, over these past sixty years—concerning that which is proper vs. that which is not—then common sense points toward this fact: Mixed messages are still absorbed by the kids of today—so I'm definitely planning to write about the importance of establishing two way streets, concerning sexuality and comfort zones, early on..
When an adult feels free to discuss sexuality openly and unabashedly, a child's mind connects naturally with the fact that the sexual act is enjoyed by two consenting adults. Parents need to discuss sex way before their kids are experimenting at thirteen. The movie, "Thirteen" proved quite the eye opener.
Having fielded questions from parents for decades, I've come to believe that instead of exploring sensuality, at our leisure, more couples than not encounter the bread and water variety of sex rather than enjoying a sumptuous banquet, which satisfies the sensuous hungers of both. I mean, how often do you crave baloney for dinner?'
"Annie, where do you get this stuff?"
"I read a lot. I go to the movies. And I mustered the courage to articulate what I'd craved once Will and I lived separately. It's always about articulating with clarity, Mom. And I mean articulating clearly with yourself.
When an adult feels free to discuss sexuality openly and unabashedly, a child's mind connects naturally with the fact that the sexual act is enjoyed by two consenting adults. Parents need to discuss sex way before their kids are experimenting at thirteen. The movie, "Thirteen" proved quite the eye opener.
Having fielded questions from parents for decades, I've come to believe that instead of exploring sensuality, at our leisure, more couples than not encounter the bread and water variety of sex rather than enjoying a sumptuous banquet, which satisfies the sensuous hungers of both. I mean, how often do you crave baloney for dinner?'
"Annie, where do you get this stuff?"
"I read a lot. I go to the movies. And I mustered the courage to articulate what I'd craved once Will and I lived separately. It's always about articulating with clarity, Mom. And I mean articulating clearly with yourself.
While penning my quest to know myself in depth, I aim to connect with many more minds than those who've enrolled in my classes and seminars over these past 40 years. My best teaching tool has always been the fact that I can place my ego aside while expanding upon narrow view points, mixed messages and misperceptions, which had unknowingly led me straight toward self doubt, resulting in self defeat, repeatedly. By making an example of my mistakes, I can demonstrate the benefits of self discovery, leading me and then my family to embrace self awareness, resulting in positive change, all around.
I plan to reveal those times when defensive denial blocked me from identifying subconscious fears, which narrowed my views and limited the path that I'd unwittingly chosen for myself. For example: The sexual revolution, as we know it, today, began during the early sixties, when Will and I were deep into our teens. Reflection suggests that for many years he and I had no clue which mixed messages we'd lugged forward, while swimming, quietly, against the tide, upstream.
I plan to reveal those times when defensive denial blocked me from identifying subconscious fears, which narrowed my views and limited the path that I'd unwittingly chosen for myself. For example: The sexual revolution, as we know it, today, began during the early sixties, when Will and I were deep into our teens. Reflection suggests that for many years he and I had no clue which mixed messages we'd lugged forward, while swimming, quietly, against the tide, upstream.
I guess you could say that our story resembles a Reader’s Digest condensation of a dream, which over time, turned into a couple's worst nightmare. Or better yet—I’ve been writing a collection of Annie’s Notes—you know—like Cliff’s Notes, but rather than dissecting classic literature, I'm dissecting a classic analysis of love-gone-wrong.”
“Does that mean you think you have the answers, Annie.”
“Mmmm—No. Not answers, Mom. In fact, what's right for you may not be right for me.
Let's just say that after teaching family communications for more than thirty years, I found myself intrigued by classic issues, which arise within every generation at each stage of family life. While facilitating classes in family education—each of which highlights the importance of problem-solving effectively by way of engaging in open minded brainstorming—the analytical side of my brain has had reason to divide a mixed message into two separate messages, thus serving to simplify emotional complexity at times when my mind needs to process through logical thought. (More about separating mixed messages, later, or this post will go on forever.)
Let's just say that after teaching family communications for more than thirty years, I found myself intrigued by classic issues, which arise within every generation at each stage of family life. While facilitating classes in family education—each of which highlights the importance of problem-solving effectively by way of engaging in open minded brainstorming—the analytical side of my brain has had reason to divide a mixed message into two separate messages, thus serving to simplify emotional complexity at times when my mind needs to process through logical thought. (More about separating mixed messages, later, or this post will go on forever.)
As you may remember, a nationally renown marriage counselor once said, ‘Annie, if you can write the same way you talk, you should share your story in a book.’ Every year, people in my classes would tell me that, as well.
Knowing myself to attack most tasks, single-mindedly, I knew better than to write our story while raising the boys. Finding time to write articles while teaching classes was more than enough. However, at this stage of my life, I enjoy awakening, every morning, feeling free to devote the bulk of my time and mental energy to such a heartfelt, mind bending task. On the other hand, there is one problem in need of solving."
"What's that?"
"If I write the same way I talk, it's likely that I'll never finish all of the writing, editing, and rewriting while I’m still alive.”
Knowing myself to attack most tasks, single-mindedly, I knew better than to write our story while raising the boys. Finding time to write articles while teaching classes was more than enough. However, at this stage of my life, I enjoy awakening, every morning, feeling free to devote the bulk of my time and mental energy to such a heartfelt, mind bending task. On the other hand, there is one problem in need of solving."
"What's that?"
"If I write the same way I talk, it's likely that I'll never finish all of the writing, editing, and rewriting while I’m still alive.”
So now we're laughing again, followed by spending the next few seconds swinging in silent reflection, side by side. Then, laughter bubbles forth from my funny bone, again. Tipping her head in my direction, curiosity covers Mom’s face, and with eyes twinkling, she asks, “What’s so funny, Annie?”
“I’m thinking of something Lauren said during a phone conversation.”
“And that would be?”
“She said, Annie, if you don’t finish writing your story, sometime soon, you may be writing the best book that no one will ever read except for you!”
Mom chuckles and agrees. “Lauren’s right about that. Do you have any idea when you’ll be done?”
“Nope. But when it is finished—I’ll be the first to know. Actually, I’m thinking about changing the title from:
STRIPPING SNOW WHITE
to
ANNIE’S IDIOPATHIC ENCYCLOPEDIC ANTHOLOGY OF LOVE
ANNIE’S IDIOPATHIC ENCYCLOPEDIC ANTHOLOGY OF LOVE
“What does idiopathic mean?”
“Idiopathic is a medical term that impressed me when I was a bride. I’d sit on the floor in our unfurnished living room and test Will’s knowledge of medical lingo from note cards that he’d prepared during his third year of med school. Idiopathic means ‘of unknown origin.’ ”
Then, I recite the title aloud again—
ANNIE'S IDIOPATHIC ENCYCLOPEDIC ANTHOLOGY OF LOVE
—At this, the twinkle in Mom’s eyes matches mine when she asks, “Annie, is it okay if we stop talking for a while?”
“Sure,” I answer with a sheepish grin. “Your head must feel as swollen as my tongue. In fact my tongue is so tired, it just wants to lay down and take a nap inside my mouth.”
Self depreciating humor inspires laughter, again.
2014
Once my stream of consciousness has expressed the ways that positive focus empowers lasting love, Mom and I get off the swing. I open the Arcadia door and follow my mother into my house. As we walk, arm in arm, through my bright and airy kitchen, which leads into the great room, where the dining room and living room connect, this thought runs through my mind: As airing my thoughts often clarifies my understanding of whatever’s going on deep within my mind—I’ll have to find a place in the book, early on, to suggest the importance of taking note of life events, which may cause the next stage of a child's development to detour away from center—for example: What if a serious accident or lengthy illness in the family unsettles an entire support system for so long as to throw the child's personal sense of security off track, as in—what if a good little girl grows toward adulthood, harboring a subconscious fear of ever being seen as bad.
What if denial feels better to this little girl than confronting her fears, because the mere thought of confronting a tidal wave of frowns, which may splash back at her, thus—drowning—all sense of her well being, silences her voice. What if, over time, fear of negative reactiveness has sound reason to grow so great that she never seeks guidance no matter how terrifying an unexpected experience proves to be. I mean, if this child can't stand up for herself for fear of rocking anyone's boat then how much fear and anger might this congenial little girl unknowingly repress deep within subconscious pockets of her mind—over her lifetime? And what if no amount of therapy comes close to solving her mystery until, to her good fortune, she learns about and chooses to engage in sessions of EMDR, which hands her a set of keys, which serves to unlock door after door, behind which are hidden that host of insights, which, strung together, brighten her mind so that she can identify the duality of her traits, thus answering her need for self evaluation, at last. In retrospect, insight into my fascination with effective communications should come as no surprise. Though I'd hoped to communicate clearly and compassionately with my children, the person with whom I'd been in need of communicating with clarity had been myself
I think it's important to add that for the most part, denial made me unaware of the far reaching depths of my fears concerning not measuring up. On the other hand—to my good fortune—I knew, without a shadow of doubt, how deeply I was loved.
As to expressing anger, denial refused to allow me to expose that emotion for fear of rocking boats, suggesting that repressed anger, turned in, transforms into sadness, which was rarely shown, openly, because that would have meant wearing a frown, which, as you know, was not my M.O.
The only persona, which fit comfortably within my narrow comfort zone, proved to be my eager, enthusiastic enjoyment of family, friends and life. And upon reflection, I'd still prefer to be a pauper when counting frowns vs. smiles, today.
So, does holding this set of keys suggest that I've figured myself out?
Nope.
Why not?
Life proves to be
A never ending maze, leading from
One unknown adventure directly into
The next with brief rest periods, in between
So what has my quest toward self awareness changed?
Well—today, when approaching a door in need of unlocking
I feel much less fearful, much more adventurous while
Venturing forth to greet and even embrace the unknown, which
Waits to welcome both sides of my whole into the fold, and
If it's true that the last stage of life is not for sissies then
I give thanks to my lucky star for lighting my way, thus
Guiding my spirit away from the darkness of denial, toward
A lightness of being true to myself—through and through
Much more often than not
Self depreciating humor inspires laughter, again.
2014
Once my stream of consciousness has expressed the ways that positive focus empowers lasting love, Mom and I get off the swing. I open the Arcadia door and follow my mother into my house. As we walk, arm in arm, through my bright and airy kitchen, which leads into the great room, where the dining room and living room connect, this thought runs through my mind: As airing my thoughts often clarifies my understanding of whatever’s going on deep within my mind—I’ll have to find a place in the book, early on, to suggest the importance of taking note of life events, which may cause the next stage of a child's development to detour away from center—for example: What if a serious accident or lengthy illness in the family unsettles an entire support system for so long as to throw the child's personal sense of security off track, as in—what if a good little girl grows toward adulthood, harboring a subconscious fear of ever being seen as bad.
What if denial feels better to this little girl than confronting her fears, because the mere thought of confronting a tidal wave of frowns, which may splash back at her, thus—drowning—all sense of her well being, silences her voice. What if, over time, fear of negative reactiveness has sound reason to grow so great that she never seeks guidance no matter how terrifying an unexpected experience proves to be. I mean, if this child can't stand up for herself for fear of rocking anyone's boat then how much fear and anger might this congenial little girl unknowingly repress deep within subconscious pockets of her mind—over her lifetime? And what if no amount of therapy comes close to solving her mystery until, to her good fortune, she learns about and chooses to engage in sessions of EMDR, which hands her a set of keys, which serves to unlock door after door, behind which are hidden that host of insights, which, strung together, brighten her mind so that she can identify the duality of her traits, thus answering her need for self evaluation, at last. In retrospect, insight into my fascination with effective communications should come as no surprise. Though I'd hoped to communicate clearly and compassionately with my children, the person with whom I'd been in need of communicating with clarity had been myself
I think it's important to add that for the most part, denial made me unaware of the far reaching depths of my fears concerning not measuring up. On the other hand—to my good fortune—I knew, without a shadow of doubt, how deeply I was loved.
As to expressing anger, denial refused to allow me to expose that emotion for fear of rocking boats, suggesting that repressed anger, turned in, transforms into sadness, which was rarely shown, openly, because that would have meant wearing a frown, which, as you know, was not my M.O.
The only persona, which fit comfortably within my narrow comfort zone, proved to be my eager, enthusiastic enjoyment of family, friends and life. And upon reflection, I'd still prefer to be a pauper when counting frowns vs. smiles, today.
So, does holding this set of keys suggest that I've figured myself out?
Nope.
Why not?
Life proves to be
A never ending maze, leading from
One unknown adventure directly into
The next with brief rest periods, in between
So what has my quest toward self awareness changed?
Well—today, when approaching a door in need of unlocking
I feel much less fearful, much more adventurous while
Venturing forth to greet and even embrace the unknown, which
Waits to welcome both sides of my whole into the fold, and
If it's true that the last stage of life is not for sissies then
I give thanks to my lucky star for lighting my way, thus
Guiding my spirit away from the darkness of denial, toward
A lightness of being true to myself—through and through
Much more often than not
Even today, I never know what I'm thinking deep inside until I read what my mind needs to write on it's own (Thank you for that insightful quote, William Faulkner.)
PS
Hmmm—With awareness into the fact that most of my posts swim through stream of consciousness—that makes me wonder if I'd find THE SOUND AND THE FURY less baffling, today …
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