One resolved, only to acquire another. The intention here is to maintain the most optimistic attitude possible; I am a 'glass half-full' person in the worst of times. Thus, I hope the little girl seen at 2:00 a.m. on the Staten Island Ferry was sad and in tears for anything but what it looked like: another child with an abuser, perhaps a sexual abuser. The person she was with offered a tissue, though I know this type of person very well: trying to look civil in a public setting. His face showed no compassion and avoided eye contact, knowing I was watching.
Because I couldn't get close enough to hear the conversation, I stood up two rows away and watched directly. She looked at me with burning eyes, clearly not wanting to be where she was and at times looking almost as if she wanted to die, to be anywhere but where she was.
There were 'officers' in the back of the boat. It was a twenty-five minute trip. I was sleep-deprived from a long day and could barely put two sentences together, let alone find the right words to express myself effectively, or so I thought. It was a Friday night, and this was perhaps his visitation, or this was a night someone else was unavailable and he was the only one who could 'take care of her'.
Whatever was going on, it didn't look like it was the first time. Either she had just come from somewhere that kept her crying silently during the whole trip, or she was about to experience something that she was helpless to prevent. I pray it was the former; either way, I feel as though I should have acted, though past experience had me frozen. All I could do in those twenty-five minutes was stand during the whole trip and stare at them, looking for a clearer sign to go to the police, who happened to be visible at the back of the boat.
There was an employee a friend knew who worked on the boat in the ladies room, who had disclosed to her that she was regularly beaten by her boyfriend. I was disturbed enough by this to go to an officer the next time I saw her working there and tell them what I knew. His response was that unless the woman went to him herself there was nothing he could do, that 'what if they took action on everyone who made such a report'? I was disappointed and discouraged, thought not surprized.
That experience and my fatigue kept me from going to the back of the boat that night, expecting the same response. This time it was a child, this time who she was with would lie if asked if there was something the child was upset about; he would likely not permit anyone to talk to her directly. She was property, too afraid to speak with who she was with that she couldn't get away from, who spoke in a very low voice with no emotion or expression of compassion as her tears flowed that she wiped herself, refusing the tissue he offered.
I watched helplessly as they got up when the boat got closer to its destination, the little girl, no more than eight, the same age as my son, walked ahead of her captor and faced forward to not have to look at him. I stood as close as I could to her side on the other side of the rope. She glanced at me a time or two, looking terrified, or enraged, or both, maybe at me for not doing anything, maybe because that's what she's always gotten: no one helping or caring, or even knowing that whenever she's with this person, something happens that she can't stop, and can't tell anyone.
By the time I was ready to go to someone they were still in the back of the boat, chatting as they had the whole time, watching no one, untrained, uncaring for any sort of subtle dynamics as these, inaccessible. I was angry that they were not now in the front of the boat, as they should have been.
Still helplessly watching, the seemingly heartless person the child was with took her hand again, as he had when I first spotted them about to get on. They walked together briskly toward the buses and disappeared into the crowd; there was nothing I could have done by then even if I'd been able to keep up with them. An eight year old if sad over anything other than coming from a death of a loved one does not continue to cry in such a way for such a time period unless something is out of the ordinary.
Two days later when I was able to see another cop on another boat I asked what was the procedure when those kinds of things happen. What are they trained to spot or do when nothing is happening though it appears clear that something may be about to happen, something that's happened before and may happen again, sometimes ongoing for years in a child's life with no one knowing. He said different officers are different, though they're not trained to spot such things for the most part, and that I should have gone to them...
I hope you were sad over anything but what it looked like; if I ever see you again or him I will not forget what you or he looked like. I will never forget your face. If I ever see the two of you together again with the same thing going on I promise I'll get help; I'm sorry I may have failed you. I hope you can forgive me. It's sometimes all I can do to protect one child, as I sometimes have to watch helplessly while another goes through what they don't deserve. Please be well, and safe.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
The Next Step
One cannot go without the other, a throwback to years ago, or the moment when the story became one of significance, one that others would want to know about, and that in knowing would offer hope and even help to make others stronger. It's time to cross over, still in small steps, one breath at a time.
The process happened by degrees, almost imperceptible; not being in the middle of it or understanding what was happening would provide a different perspective or opinion. I know the child the same as when first seeing them: what every movement meant, every expression, every utterance, every little noise, every pause.
It was as if I had gone back for the first time to having been where they were, feeling it all over again, reminded of what had been all but completely forgotten, buried in years of existence, what I had thought was a life, until the child appeared, then life and love had new definitions. Whatever the previous ones were could not ever be considered or entertained again. All was in the past, and all that mattered was looking to me, understanding my every glance, touch, and feeling, crying when my presence couldn't be felt in the dark, going quickly back to sleep knowing I was there (while I laid awake for hours wondering what had caused such urgency so suddenly).
I would find out, eventually. Parts of the puzzle came together almost as suddenly: a rising tide that once the flood subsided could not ever be the same again either. Only later would I learn the full scope and truth of a chain of events that faded against the tunnel-vision of fear and flight. A hundred books would be read with the child either elsewhere or sleeping softly in the wee hours before it was time to go out. A little hand would reach out to hold mine, content that there was finally some peace. A tear would be wiped by a blanket, words expressing from the place we had found how lucky I was not to have to go to where they didn't want to.
Even the day before it was time, the tears would start, sometimes running after me, sometimes screaming. I knew this child; nothing that was described as expected was normal or okay. The alternatives only added to what I knew had to be solved. There was no available solution that could take away what had been done that was brought to my attention. The child is now not the same.
The process happened by degrees, almost imperceptible; not being in the middle of it or understanding what was happening would provide a different perspective or opinion. I know the child the same as when first seeing them: what every movement meant, every expression, every utterance, every little noise, every pause.
It was as if I had gone back for the first time to having been where they were, feeling it all over again, reminded of what had been all but completely forgotten, buried in years of existence, what I had thought was a life, until the child appeared, then life and love had new definitions. Whatever the previous ones were could not ever be considered or entertained again. All was in the past, and all that mattered was looking to me, understanding my every glance, touch, and feeling, crying when my presence couldn't be felt in the dark, going quickly back to sleep knowing I was there (while I laid awake for hours wondering what had caused such urgency so suddenly).
I would find out, eventually. Parts of the puzzle came together almost as suddenly: a rising tide that once the flood subsided could not ever be the same again either. Only later would I learn the full scope and truth of a chain of events that faded against the tunnel-vision of fear and flight. A hundred books would be read with the child either elsewhere or sleeping softly in the wee hours before it was time to go out. A little hand would reach out to hold mine, content that there was finally some peace. A tear would be wiped by a blanket, words expressing from the place we had found how lucky I was not to have to go to where they didn't want to.
Even the day before it was time, the tears would start, sometimes running after me, sometimes screaming. I knew this child; nothing that was described as expected was normal or okay. The alternatives only added to what I knew had to be solved. There was no available solution that could take away what had been done that was brought to my attention. The child is now not the same.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Testimony
Testimony for Hearing 1/09:
Today we must mention again that 30% of survivors and families who make it into shelter are able to find housing. It’s another issue as to why they don’t make it and the subsequent deaths that are unverifiable as directly connected remains a serious concern.
Where the remaining 70% go has also been unverified, though it is known that many are faced with the unavoidable choice of returning to abusive households, to either become homeless again, or worse. This is a well known fact in the advocacy community.
What these realities do to mothers and their children is devastating in and of itself, if they are able to escape safely even once, let alone multiple times.
Widely available statistics conclude that 75% of most incidents occur while women and their children are attempting to escape, or thereafter, which either leads to homelessness, loss of support, return to the abuser, or more homicides.
We encourage you to consult on how children and women become legitimately disabled as a result of ongoing domestic turmoil over years of exposure to physical, emotional, and mental abuse, the most ‘minimal’ condition being ‘Complex PTSD’, which often goes undiagnosed or misdiagnosed.
Your research would not be complete without looking to Lundybancroft.com, and Legalabusesyndrome.org, where findings have shown after in-depth research that ‘conditions’ are natural responses to violence and abusive, biased litigation in both women and children that follow them through the rest of their lives, with profound long-term effects impacting the gamut from health factors to functionality and ability to seek or find living standards where a productive and improving quality of life can exist and thrive.
To make things worse, obtaining a ‘diagnosis’ or labels have proved to harm women in litigation for custody of their children, though their states were natural to the traumas they continue to endure. Mr. Bancroft goes on to say that the most expedient remedy for the conditions incurred by mothers and children is simply reunification, so they may heal and be given the opportunity of a life free from abuse by both batterers and the system.
A case last year involved a mother who had been put in a wheelchair by an abuser who went on to use her ‘disability’ against her as a form of unfitness as a parent to their children in a matrimonial custody dispute. These practices and others have been far from uncommon.
With these considerations strongly in mind, we are requesting another or improved, expanded category in housing developments, so that these families, who are most always women and children, may have more opportunities for lives free from abuse and to remain safe.
Today we must mention again that 30% of survivors and families who make it into shelter are able to find housing. It’s another issue as to why they don’t make it and the subsequent deaths that are unverifiable as directly connected remains a serious concern.
Where the remaining 70% go has also been unverified, though it is known that many are faced with the unavoidable choice of returning to abusive households, to either become homeless again, or worse. This is a well known fact in the advocacy community.
What these realities do to mothers and their children is devastating in and of itself, if they are able to escape safely even once, let alone multiple times.
Widely available statistics conclude that 75% of most incidents occur while women and their children are attempting to escape, or thereafter, which either leads to homelessness, loss of support, return to the abuser, or more homicides.
We encourage you to consult on how children and women become legitimately disabled as a result of ongoing domestic turmoil over years of exposure to physical, emotional, and mental abuse, the most ‘minimal’ condition being ‘Complex PTSD’, which often goes undiagnosed or misdiagnosed.
Your research would not be complete without looking to Lundybancroft.com, and Legalabusesyndrome.org, where findings have shown after in-depth research that ‘conditions’ are natural responses to violence and abusive, biased litigation in both women and children that follow them through the rest of their lives, with profound long-term effects impacting the gamut from health factors to functionality and ability to seek or find living standards where a productive and improving quality of life can exist and thrive.
To make things worse, obtaining a ‘diagnosis’ or labels have proved to harm women in litigation for custody of their children, though their states were natural to the traumas they continue to endure. Mr. Bancroft goes on to say that the most expedient remedy for the conditions incurred by mothers and children is simply reunification, so they may heal and be given the opportunity of a life free from abuse by both batterers and the system.
A case last year involved a mother who had been put in a wheelchair by an abuser who went on to use her ‘disability’ against her as a form of unfitness as a parent to their children in a matrimonial custody dispute. These practices and others have been far from uncommon.
With these considerations strongly in mind, we are requesting another or improved, expanded category in housing developments, so that these families, who are most always women and children, may have more opportunities for lives free from abuse and to remain safe.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Creation
From this moment forward, the past will be behind you. What will you claim as part of your identity, and what will you choose to leave behind? According to some, it's just that simple. It is, if you choose. So is happiness, a choice that is; reportedly quoted by Abraham Lincoln, among others. If his life were followed, many would understand much better. Never mind that the photograpy available in his day really couldn't capture a smile well. Freezing a smile, even a fake one, for the timeframe to catch a shot was excruciating. His accomplishing the presidency was a feat in and of itself, under the circumstances. If I read more of what is written by or about him, there may be something to learn as to why he wished to become president. Was it a deep sense of purpose, or a momentum, once started, that would have been inappropriate to reverse? Maybe it was something in between; only Abe himself could tell us for sure.
Abe Lincoln was not a man who skipped much, as in the hopscotch kind, as in having a spring in one's step, unless in private moments with his children. Much of the time in his life had all but the world's weight on his shoulders. How much he felt it or acknowledged it is another question only he could answer. We take on all with either a conscious or unconscious permission, with the exception of being in a bad place at a bad time; there are things that happen that still make us wonder 'why?'.
In our lifetime, is it possible to minimize or get a grip, some sort of control on what happens to other humans (for the highest and best of all concerned)? To accept the collective responsibility we all have toward each other in some capacity? It's a choice. Some have the wherewithal to acknowledge that there even is a choice. Other's must find food or shelter to survive another day. We represent them all. Obviously, it's been possible to participate in destruction, where even apathy or non-action is a form of participation. Yes. So by the same token, there's a way to participate in creation without destroying, without creating humans only to snuff them out before lives have the opportunity to even begin.
We were designed with the capacity to find a way for all to thrive; I heard a trusted mentor mention in a recording that if all of the world's resources in monetary quantity were divided evenly between every child, woman, and man on the planet, no exceptions, each would have the equivalent of approximately 12 million dollars. I believe it. So why the killing, why the greed, why the control and fear, why the need to have others submit? Leadership and power have nothing to do with control over others. The best leaders' stories go unheard or undocumented most of the time, or surface as a legacy, as if it couldn't be repeated. History does repeat itself, if unstudied or respected. The best history can be repeated as well, were we not so in need of making a mark 'like none other'.
The best footprints of our existence occurred when some chose to lead in a way that would make children proud, that would teach them that one person can start something that leaves the world a better place. Others paved the way for that very reason. They did what no one else could do, to make it easier for those that followed, many strangers they would never meet. Their vision included the smiles and laughter of children, who where given the opportunity to be children, instead of slaves in the field or slaves to anything. Many still exist in our world today; we can choose to change that. Not acknowleding our part in the process is participation in the opposite of creation. It's a daily thought.
Do not let the spotlights blind you; tread carefully, speak wisely, for in this present moment in time, you will not pass this way again, and every step you tread on going forward was created by the one before it.
Abe Lincoln was not a man who skipped much, as in the hopscotch kind, as in having a spring in one's step, unless in private moments with his children. Much of the time in his life had all but the world's weight on his shoulders. How much he felt it or acknowledged it is another question only he could answer. We take on all with either a conscious or unconscious permission, with the exception of being in a bad place at a bad time; there are things that happen that still make us wonder 'why?'.
In our lifetime, is it possible to minimize or get a grip, some sort of control on what happens to other humans (for the highest and best of all concerned)? To accept the collective responsibility we all have toward each other in some capacity? It's a choice. Some have the wherewithal to acknowledge that there even is a choice. Other's must find food or shelter to survive another day. We represent them all. Obviously, it's been possible to participate in destruction, where even apathy or non-action is a form of participation. Yes. So by the same token, there's a way to participate in creation without destroying, without creating humans only to snuff them out before lives have the opportunity to even begin.
We were designed with the capacity to find a way for all to thrive; I heard a trusted mentor mention in a recording that if all of the world's resources in monetary quantity were divided evenly between every child, woman, and man on the planet, no exceptions, each would have the equivalent of approximately 12 million dollars. I believe it. So why the killing, why the greed, why the control and fear, why the need to have others submit? Leadership and power have nothing to do with control over others. The best leaders' stories go unheard or undocumented most of the time, or surface as a legacy, as if it couldn't be repeated. History does repeat itself, if unstudied or respected. The best history can be repeated as well, were we not so in need of making a mark 'like none other'.
The best footprints of our existence occurred when some chose to lead in a way that would make children proud, that would teach them that one person can start something that leaves the world a better place. Others paved the way for that very reason. They did what no one else could do, to make it easier for those that followed, many strangers they would never meet. Their vision included the smiles and laughter of children, who where given the opportunity to be children, instead of slaves in the field or slaves to anything. Many still exist in our world today; we can choose to change that. Not acknowleding our part in the process is participation in the opposite of creation. It's a daily thought.
Do not let the spotlights blind you; tread carefully, speak wisely, for in this present moment in time, you will not pass this way again, and every step you tread on going forward was created by the one before it.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Lovefest
Priceless and precious: lingering after waking, knowing a pint-sized person will soon awake as well and prefer to nestle toes and all under ever-warmer covers quick as a flash. Little nose in the space of your neck; little arm over you: irreplaceable.
Saying 'I love you' out of nowhere, during the day and across the room after being tucked in for the night. Sharing dreams, good and bad, hearing laughter and whimpers at different times once slumber has taken over, staying awake purposely though not consciously just to be together longer.
Finding little treats collected over time: little moments strung together more precious than a beaded necklace, more fragile: passing memories as soon as they happen.
Always singing, always smiling, always sharing funny stories and new jokes: the gift of a happy child. Though always is not really 'always'; a child like this will seek every possible time to renew their own hope and yours. Always trying to capture a smile or a laugh, not forgetting what fear feels like, and not looking for it.
They are here to remind us of 'now', of all there is that matters. Tomorrow is another day; today is what we have. Yesterday is over, always, to a child.
The blanket was sewn again, as many times before, held together by threads on top of each other. It feels soft and solid once more though no less fragile: full of priceless irreplaceable memories, from when its entire size fit completely over a little person that now still holds it fast during the night close to his face. He's now shy to have his forehead kissed with others around though the blanket is always accounted for and never far away: the first to wipe sudden tears and keep close.
The shape of the face is the same, as is the softness of his hair and skin, as when he was so small, still in a stroller, falling asleep, 'checking out' from the noise when it became too much. Peace was looking at his face and touching his hair and skin; comfort was doing the same when bad dreams had him calling out to make sure I was there. I answered by the touch that was unmistakeable, stroking his face and pulling the covers over his shoulders until the whimpering stopped and the pained expression returned to one of rest again; sometimes it seemed like every night, though it wasn't. I never tired of comforting him; my rest was and is his.
He tells me what I cannot help and cannot change, as if he knows; sometimes he's right. I tell him what is not his to worry about, what isn't about him, what cannot hurt him. The last time I said I thought he was 'the greatest' he said 'Think?'. "I know you're the greatest", I said, corrected. Something must be working. He will have what I didn't have; he will know who he is and claim him, because someone was there to tell him he could.
Saying 'I love you' out of nowhere, during the day and across the room after being tucked in for the night. Sharing dreams, good and bad, hearing laughter and whimpers at different times once slumber has taken over, staying awake purposely though not consciously just to be together longer.
Finding little treats collected over time: little moments strung together more precious than a beaded necklace, more fragile: passing memories as soon as they happen.
Always singing, always smiling, always sharing funny stories and new jokes: the gift of a happy child. Though always is not really 'always'; a child like this will seek every possible time to renew their own hope and yours. Always trying to capture a smile or a laugh, not forgetting what fear feels like, and not looking for it.
They are here to remind us of 'now', of all there is that matters. Tomorrow is another day; today is what we have. Yesterday is over, always, to a child.
The blanket was sewn again, as many times before, held together by threads on top of each other. It feels soft and solid once more though no less fragile: full of priceless irreplaceable memories, from when its entire size fit completely over a little person that now still holds it fast during the night close to his face. He's now shy to have his forehead kissed with others around though the blanket is always accounted for and never far away: the first to wipe sudden tears and keep close.
The shape of the face is the same, as is the softness of his hair and skin, as when he was so small, still in a stroller, falling asleep, 'checking out' from the noise when it became too much. Peace was looking at his face and touching his hair and skin; comfort was doing the same when bad dreams had him calling out to make sure I was there. I answered by the touch that was unmistakeable, stroking his face and pulling the covers over his shoulders until the whimpering stopped and the pained expression returned to one of rest again; sometimes it seemed like every night, though it wasn't. I never tired of comforting him; my rest was and is his.
He tells me what I cannot help and cannot change, as if he knows; sometimes he's right. I tell him what is not his to worry about, what isn't about him, what cannot hurt him. The last time I said I thought he was 'the greatest' he said 'Think?'. "I know you're the greatest", I said, corrected. Something must be working. He will have what I didn't have; he will know who he is and claim him, because someone was there to tell him he could.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Frogs/blog, ghost/writer; perspective: yipes!
Signs and symbols; now you see them, now you don't. Some would say they're always there; others simply don't notice, or insist they see nothing. Both points of view are true, in the 'eye of the beholder'; it's all relative.
I must confess this entry was composed on its designated day, automatically saved as a draft, accessed to post and when the check-box was assigned to publish only two lines 'survived'. No copy of the draft was saved to post the full text, which was lost somewhere in the process. I had been pleased with what had been created, mourned its loss, began again later, joking with one nearby that if it were the worst thing in life at that moment, it was 'okay'. Now to the re-creation, not to be the same:
My favorite mentor re-told a story that included two frogs recently, about others' misinterpreting responses to circumstances as one viewpoint: a particular reaction brings on a different result, depending upon the motivations of those directly affected. The same could be said for many things; the analogy in the story was results being 'rewarded', though not in the way that had been envisioned by one participant. In order to meet someone 'where they are', it can help to know what their 'where' is, to them. Sometimes, this can only be discovered in hindsight.
So what's the lesson? The 'golden rule' has been re-illustrated as what 'others' would want. What makes for challenges is not only do we not know what they want, neither do they, more often than not. It's for all practical purposes simple to treat others as we would wish or expect to be treated; the truth is that 'others' are not us. Sometimes, even the best 'people skills' do not apply. Just like animals, different species have different needs, though it's usually much easier to understand the needs of species other than humans.
So that part's covered, not much like the first time, though we accept with gratitude the 'now'.
As for the latter, there are those that are called 'kindred spirits' for whom we can finish sentences across continents, or lifetimes, where the Golden Rule is predictable, and equally gratifying. We know our efforts have not gone in vain; many would say no effort is lost. We are simply unaware of the results or outcome.
This is not for me; sometimes, as has happened many times in the past, as satisfying as it can be to be 'validated', the real meaning or result is what has occurred through others, because we chose to 'be there', to show they were important, to let them know their strength was unique in guiding others to recognize their own gifts and act on them. Many times the effort was very small; the blessing was the arrangement of place and time to allow for another 'everyday miracle' to occur. The most priceless has been when such moments occur with children, when one moment in time is remembered for a lifetime, shaping purpose and destiny.
The opposite can also be true. We are taught that to appreciate joy we must understand pain, that without contrast there is nothing to compare to. Is this the circle of life? We can still experience 'pain' and 'suffering' without the 'unspeakable', without atrocities, without the destruction of our own. They are all ours. For every tear that's shed, there could have been fewer. Those who survive have been grateful for the experience; others have erased the memory from their consciousness, thought not without consequence. Still others go on only a spirit shadow of what might have been, the candle all but extinguished.
We cannot help what we can't see, or can we? Those who may need us most are not even visible. They live in fear, unable to think beyond getting through the day. Our 'luxury of thought' is for what they cannot entertain beyond hunger and shelter. In contrast, we have unlimited wealth, enough abundance for all. Through communication and collaboration we can construct and extend the ropes to hope and the possibility of freedom, as the latter must be their own thought. It can be facilitated by others, though only claimed by those who choose to, once provided with the tools, as easily passed on as the lighting of one candle to another, undiminished by having done so.
I only remember the ending of what was 'lost' as something like 'the path you walk upon is there from who was before you, for you'.
I must confess this entry was composed on its designated day, automatically saved as a draft, accessed to post and when the check-box was assigned to publish only two lines 'survived'. No copy of the draft was saved to post the full text, which was lost somewhere in the process. I had been pleased with what had been created, mourned its loss, began again later, joking with one nearby that if it were the worst thing in life at that moment, it was 'okay'. Now to the re-creation, not to be the same:
My favorite mentor re-told a story that included two frogs recently, about others' misinterpreting responses to circumstances as one viewpoint: a particular reaction brings on a different result, depending upon the motivations of those directly affected. The same could be said for many things; the analogy in the story was results being 'rewarded', though not in the way that had been envisioned by one participant. In order to meet someone 'where they are', it can help to know what their 'where' is, to them. Sometimes, this can only be discovered in hindsight.
So what's the lesson? The 'golden rule' has been re-illustrated as what 'others' would want. What makes for challenges is not only do we not know what they want, neither do they, more often than not. It's for all practical purposes simple to treat others as we would wish or expect to be treated; the truth is that 'others' are not us. Sometimes, even the best 'people skills' do not apply. Just like animals, different species have different needs, though it's usually much easier to understand the needs of species other than humans.
So that part's covered, not much like the first time, though we accept with gratitude the 'now'.
As for the latter, there are those that are called 'kindred spirits' for whom we can finish sentences across continents, or lifetimes, where the Golden Rule is predictable, and equally gratifying. We know our efforts have not gone in vain; many would say no effort is lost. We are simply unaware of the results or outcome.
This is not for me; sometimes, as has happened many times in the past, as satisfying as it can be to be 'validated', the real meaning or result is what has occurred through others, because we chose to 'be there', to show they were important, to let them know their strength was unique in guiding others to recognize their own gifts and act on them. Many times the effort was very small; the blessing was the arrangement of place and time to allow for another 'everyday miracle' to occur. The most priceless has been when such moments occur with children, when one moment in time is remembered for a lifetime, shaping purpose and destiny.
The opposite can also be true. We are taught that to appreciate joy we must understand pain, that without contrast there is nothing to compare to. Is this the circle of life? We can still experience 'pain' and 'suffering' without the 'unspeakable', without atrocities, without the destruction of our own. They are all ours. For every tear that's shed, there could have been fewer. Those who survive have been grateful for the experience; others have erased the memory from their consciousness, thought not without consequence. Still others go on only a spirit shadow of what might have been, the candle all but extinguished.
We cannot help what we can't see, or can we? Those who may need us most are not even visible. They live in fear, unable to think beyond getting through the day. Our 'luxury of thought' is for what they cannot entertain beyond hunger and shelter. In contrast, we have unlimited wealth, enough abundance for all. Through communication and collaboration we can construct and extend the ropes to hope and the possibility of freedom, as the latter must be their own thought. It can be facilitated by others, though only claimed by those who choose to, once provided with the tools, as easily passed on as the lighting of one candle to another, undiminished by having done so.
I only remember the ending of what was 'lost' as something like 'the path you walk upon is there from who was before you, for you'.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Gratitude
Uncertainty and change are guaranteed, so what is 'stability'? It's a relative term, according to who you are, your 'world view', and the filters created, consciously or otherwise, by every moment up to this one. The word 'ego' was heard recently defined as 'your past'. Get it? Who is who we see in the mirror (if we have one)? At any moment, we can either decide our past is who we are, or decide otherwise.
The hardest to master is oneself, so we're taught. Words are powerful: a lesson that happens on the journey. Another mentor was overheard during a recorded session taking place in a summer youth camp how we can turn negatives into positives with single words, regardless of how we feel. Say, the 'change of season' immune system resistance factor got the better of us on a particular day. "How are you?" someone says in greeting (taking the time to ask, maybe even caring about the answer). Think for a moment; we can choose the answer. Regardless of the 'outside' forces that can attack our bodies or psyches, the answer is still up to us.
"Wonderful" we say (as has this mentor), quickly followed by a cough or tissue to the runny nose that doesn't seem to want to stop, footsteps labored, as we walk slowly beside our inquiring acquaintance or friend. They look at us a little puzzled, as we don't particularly sound so (to them). The middle-ground of this 'transition' is we are in wonder of the ability on this beautiful day to greet another, to have woken up, gotten dressed, breathed, seen the sun, and felt the breeze on our faces. It's the truth. We are 'full of wonder' observing the miracles that occur daily around us, with us, and for us. "Awesome", we say, as we are 'full of awe' of how we may feel or encounter our daily 'happenings'. As the masters who have prospered by these practices can attest, the solutions come much sooner, through the utterances that bring us ever closer to the joys we seek.
“ There is the lesson of a Cherokee man teaching his grandchildren about life. He says to them, ‘A fight is going on inside me. It’s between two wolves. One wolf is evil. He is fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, anxiety, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, competition, and superiority. The other wolf is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, faith, and laughter. Then he tells his grandchildren that the same fight is going on inside of them, and also inside of every person. The children think about this for a moment, and then one of them asks his grandfather, ‘Which wolf will win?’ The old man then replies, ‘The one that you feed’.”
Many thanks as well to the cherished mentor and friend to have shared more than once the memorable and profound quote provided. The children are here to teach us once again, and forever, as we watch in awe just how rapidly they exercise the mastery they were born with, the low number of their years leaves fresh the innate 'remembrance' that we can choose to laugh directly from tears, their consciousness still close to the surface, unaffected by the layers the larger ones get piled upon them with age. 'Remembering' is not 'going back', it is, or can be taking the next step on the journey.
The hardest to master is oneself, so we're taught. Words are powerful: a lesson that happens on the journey. Another mentor was overheard during a recorded session taking place in a summer youth camp how we can turn negatives into positives with single words, regardless of how we feel. Say, the 'change of season' immune system resistance factor got the better of us on a particular day. "How are you?" someone says in greeting (taking the time to ask, maybe even caring about the answer). Think for a moment; we can choose the answer. Regardless of the 'outside' forces that can attack our bodies or psyches, the answer is still up to us.
"Wonderful" we say (as has this mentor), quickly followed by a cough or tissue to the runny nose that doesn't seem to want to stop, footsteps labored, as we walk slowly beside our inquiring acquaintance or friend. They look at us a little puzzled, as we don't particularly sound so (to them). The middle-ground of this 'transition' is we are in wonder of the ability on this beautiful day to greet another, to have woken up, gotten dressed, breathed, seen the sun, and felt the breeze on our faces. It's the truth. We are 'full of wonder' observing the miracles that occur daily around us, with us, and for us. "Awesome", we say, as we are 'full of awe' of how we may feel or encounter our daily 'happenings'. As the masters who have prospered by these practices can attest, the solutions come much sooner, through the utterances that bring us ever closer to the joys we seek.
“ There is the lesson of a Cherokee man teaching his grandchildren about life. He says to them, ‘A fight is going on inside me. It’s between two wolves. One wolf is evil. He is fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, anxiety, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, competition, and superiority. The other wolf is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, faith, and laughter. Then he tells his grandchildren that the same fight is going on inside of them, and also inside of every person. The children think about this for a moment, and then one of them asks his grandfather, ‘Which wolf will win?’ The old man then replies, ‘The one that you feed’.”
Many thanks as well to the cherished mentor and friend to have shared more than once the memorable and profound quote provided. The children are here to teach us once again, and forever, as we watch in awe just how rapidly they exercise the mastery they were born with, the low number of their years leaves fresh the innate 'remembrance' that we can choose to laugh directly from tears, their consciousness still close to the surface, unaffected by the layers the larger ones get piled upon them with age. 'Remembering' is not 'going back', it is, or can be taking the next step on the journey.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Calm Before the Storm
As the words were written; I'm thinking again of those for whom a literal storm is approaching, and reminded of how small what the rest of us face today is by comparison. I'm not watching the news today; doing so is another precious time drainer. Life is too short and as each day passes there is so much to do with the gift of each day that we have.
I'm literally sitting in the dark; coming into a place that is another blessing, with no lights on. A timer turned them off. I could get up and turn them on again, though it's as if there's a nudge that my reason for coming in at all is sticking to my commitment of making this entry on the last day of the month, and that I should make this session short; there's life going on out there and I'm to take care of other things, too, on a day when the rest of the blessed ones are enjoying a long holiday weekend. I think again of those who know of their blessings.
Again, I watched a DVD by a respected friend who has thrived and prospered by living on the edge. Not unlike her and as she has chosen to continue, I've lost touch with whatever a 'comfort zone' is. The difference between us is I'm where she was at a much earlier time in her life, when living on the edge was circumstance before it became conscious choice. Comfort is appreciated, though fleeting, as there are 'miles to go before sleep'.
This is for those without the 'luxury' of having a place to go to write or keep a commitment, who've not yet learned what a commitment is; life is about whether or not there will be any food, or a place to sleep that's safe and dry. Many of these are children; some are alone.
This is what life is; they're all our children. My gift is perspective; we are all connected. The latter was not learned until much later; it was a cliche' until understood. The more learned the more that is revealed that opens up realms that can't be mastered in one lifetime. So again I feel small, though not in a powerless way.
When abundance is all around in the most obvious way, I will still be a student. When others call me an expert or authority I will still be learning from the children. They arrive to teach us what we have forgotten, and continue to remind us that we never get it all, they can smile and be happy 'for no reason', as we all are entitled to do at any moment.
Happiness is momentary, and our purpose here is to increase the ratio of those moments as much as possible for ourselves and others. Children can do it for no charge and create other smiles, for moments that are all too fleeting. There's a lesson in there. Then when an 'expert' re-learns the 'skill' of 'teaching' others that we all have that choice at any moment, they're paid thousands per hour. The environments we grew into made us forget we always had a choice, and huge amounts of the luxury of time and money were re-invested to 'remember'.
When we ignore or diminish the joy of a child we ignore and diminish ourselves. When the environment overwhelms us to the point that taking time to know what matters is a 'luxury' we 'don't have', abundance has not abandoned us; it is we that have left.
I can pray at this moment that those preparing for yet another storm are delivered to safety with minimal inconveniences. One human life can only tolerate so many storms without the proper support. There is enough for everyone to thrive; we must be there before the storm in some way, whatever way we can. There is no honor in a 'noble' reaction to the 'aftermath'; there are no 'heroes' when enough were aware in advance and chose not to offer as much as a prayer. We are all set back when another suffers in a way that could have been prevented. Every moment must be weighed when getting to 'what's next' overshadows a 'child' reaching out, as it's happening somewhere, every moment. The more we remember, the more smiles, the fewer tears, the more life.
I'm literally sitting in the dark; coming into a place that is another blessing, with no lights on. A timer turned them off. I could get up and turn them on again, though it's as if there's a nudge that my reason for coming in at all is sticking to my commitment of making this entry on the last day of the month, and that I should make this session short; there's life going on out there and I'm to take care of other things, too, on a day when the rest of the blessed ones are enjoying a long holiday weekend. I think again of those who know of their blessings.
Again, I watched a DVD by a respected friend who has thrived and prospered by living on the edge. Not unlike her and as she has chosen to continue, I've lost touch with whatever a 'comfort zone' is. The difference between us is I'm where she was at a much earlier time in her life, when living on the edge was circumstance before it became conscious choice. Comfort is appreciated, though fleeting, as there are 'miles to go before sleep'.
This is for those without the 'luxury' of having a place to go to write or keep a commitment, who've not yet learned what a commitment is; life is about whether or not there will be any food, or a place to sleep that's safe and dry. Many of these are children; some are alone.
This is what life is; they're all our children. My gift is perspective; we are all connected. The latter was not learned until much later; it was a cliche' until understood. The more learned the more that is revealed that opens up realms that can't be mastered in one lifetime. So again I feel small, though not in a powerless way.
When abundance is all around in the most obvious way, I will still be a student. When others call me an expert or authority I will still be learning from the children. They arrive to teach us what we have forgotten, and continue to remind us that we never get it all, they can smile and be happy 'for no reason', as we all are entitled to do at any moment.
Happiness is momentary, and our purpose here is to increase the ratio of those moments as much as possible for ourselves and others. Children can do it for no charge and create other smiles, for moments that are all too fleeting. There's a lesson in there. Then when an 'expert' re-learns the 'skill' of 'teaching' others that we all have that choice at any moment, they're paid thousands per hour. The environments we grew into made us forget we always had a choice, and huge amounts of the luxury of time and money were re-invested to 'remember'.
When we ignore or diminish the joy of a child we ignore and diminish ourselves. When the environment overwhelms us to the point that taking time to know what matters is a 'luxury' we 'don't have', abundance has not abandoned us; it is we that have left.
I can pray at this moment that those preparing for yet another storm are delivered to safety with minimal inconveniences. One human life can only tolerate so many storms without the proper support. There is enough for everyone to thrive; we must be there before the storm in some way, whatever way we can. There is no honor in a 'noble' reaction to the 'aftermath'; there are no 'heroes' when enough were aware in advance and chose not to offer as much as a prayer. We are all set back when another suffers in a way that could have been prevented. Every moment must be weighed when getting to 'what's next' overshadows a 'child' reaching out, as it's happening somewhere, every moment. The more we remember, the more smiles, the fewer tears, the more life.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
A Four-letter Word
Thanks again to Maria, and cherished friends in common...
Hate? What?
These were my first thoughts when requested of to write about what we ‘hate’ or ‘fear’, which can be the same, though are not always (or I’ve had a tough time equating them), as mentioned by our Dalai Lama*.
After spending hours thinking and as the days passed quickly to when I felt I must get this out, the only logical place to look was Neale Donald Walsch and Humanity’s Team pages to enter the keyword and see what came up.
At first I was surprised being asked to write about the word at all, a four-letter-word that enlightened beings aren’t supposed to feel, or even say most of the time, unless explaining it in the moment in response to a question or observation.
The first result did not have the word in the article; it appeared because it’s contained in the word whatever, used as ‘whatever we think we need’ (interesting; can general apathy resurface as the same?). Nonetheless, the post had its own significance:
The Crazy Things We Tell Our Children About Life
http://blog.beliefnet.com/conversationswithgod/2007/07/the-crazy-things-we-tell-our-c.html
"quick with messages of hate, calling all Westerners legitimate targets because of the actions of leaders…”
http://blog.beliefnet.com/conversationswithgod/2007/07/the-headlines-say-it-all-our-c.html
* "It is impossible to achieve inner peace when you are full of hate, suspicion and fear," the Buddhist spiritual leader told 5,500 people who packed Barton Hall for the first of his three public appearances during a two-day visit...
"Taking care of others is the best guarantee for your own happy future," the 72-year-old exiled Tibetan leader and Nobel laureate said.
http://www.humanitysteam.org/news/dalai-lama-oct2007
To answer the question, I hate what I don’t yet understand. For example, the ‘need’ to force-feed us sports at the end of every newscast, as if how could everyone not be interested, or the assumption that we are. Sports has its place, though it is also predominant and described or referred to in what our children are taught: competition, winners and losers, even in ‘religion’.
It is the truth of another culture to identify more as a member of that culture than as a unique individual and part of a collective humanity who may self-identify as such. Many are not permitted to make that choice, make it in secret, or embrace the culture.
Each is their own truth; I have learned to accept that, as it appears that all of humanity ‘knowing’ would not be an accurate description of humanity itself, with all its flaws and ‘natural’ tendencies.
If searching for the purposes in our lives consists of acquiring answers to a series of questions, it was inevitable that the one about ‘hate’ would come up eventually, and now being ‘all there is’...; in a different moment, I don’t like it.
Answers were found recently. Still processing, understanding intellectually and not emotionally. I get the words; not yet feeling or fully comprehending them, knowing others don't, the ones we don’t ‘understand’, that as part of our existence we share the planet with. It is contrast that characterizes our humanity, which allows us to distinguish joy from pain and injustice. I will accept this, and understand, not as much now as I will.
Born ‘without a hateful bone in my body’, as they say where I grew up, nor with a capacity for jealousy (who isn’t?). I didn’t understand when others ‘hated’ me for no reason I could see, or were ‘jealous’ for reasons I couldn’t understand. This occurred at different times with different people from childhood to now (like most all of us). When someone I was ‘deeply in love with’ chose someone else over me, I wasn’t jealous, I just didn’t understand. Later, I did. It wasn’t the father of my child, though it paved the way for that experience.
When we seek our essence, the thing that makes us ‘one’, there is no evil or hatred; the latter are learned or imposed by environment. The things people do to each other is not who they are; somehow they were taught to deny themselves in a form of ‘selfishness’, as who we really are has nothing to do with scarcity or competition.
In a lifetime, it appears to be impossible for some to shake off the layers of hatred and fear their environments have surrounded them with, that have told them that the opposite of who they are is what is. Many are not given the option to disagree at a very vulnerable time, as doing so would result in either a spiritual or physical death.
I don’t know how many are walking around with spirits beyond recovery, left ‘alive’ in body, in a hell on earth. I don’t fully understand who cannot or refuses to see this. I can’t explain how I still cannot hate one who deliberately hurts a child or others. ‘Intellectually’, I sometimes feel that I should. The equipment isn’t there; am I blessed, or cursed? I choose the former.
“Children are resilient.” is so often used as an excuse when the choice is to do nothing, consciously or otherwise. Broken spirits can make such statements. How many cannot unbreak the brokenness, mirrors of the systems in which they choose to live?
Someone, at some time in their most tender moments, stole the key, in a way that no one else could replace. I hate the emptiness left behind that gets turned on others. I hate not knowing if the moment has passed or is yet to come when a soul teeters between living and dying, and what might have prevented it. I hate the causes of what creates hate.
Hate? What?
These were my first thoughts when requested of to write about what we ‘hate’ or ‘fear’, which can be the same, though are not always (or I’ve had a tough time equating them), as mentioned by our Dalai Lama*.
After spending hours thinking and as the days passed quickly to when I felt I must get this out, the only logical place to look was Neale Donald Walsch and Humanity’s Team pages to enter the keyword and see what came up.
At first I was surprised being asked to write about the word at all, a four-letter-word that enlightened beings aren’t supposed to feel, or even say most of the time, unless explaining it in the moment in response to a question or observation.
The first result did not have the word in the article; it appeared because it’s contained in the word whatever, used as ‘whatever we think we need’ (interesting; can general apathy resurface as the same?). Nonetheless, the post had its own significance:
The Crazy Things We Tell Our Children About Life
http://blog.beliefnet.com/conversationswithgod/2007/07/the-crazy-things-we-tell-our-c.html
"quick with messages of hate, calling all Westerners legitimate targets because of the actions of leaders…”
http://blog.beliefnet.com/conversationswithgod/2007/07/the-headlines-say-it-all-our-c.html
* "It is impossible to achieve inner peace when you are full of hate, suspicion and fear," the Buddhist spiritual leader told 5,500 people who packed Barton Hall for the first of his three public appearances during a two-day visit...
"Taking care of others is the best guarantee for your own happy future," the 72-year-old exiled Tibetan leader and Nobel laureate said.
http://www.humanitysteam.org/news/dalai-lama-oct2007
To answer the question, I hate what I don’t yet understand. For example, the ‘need’ to force-feed us sports at the end of every newscast, as if how could everyone not be interested, or the assumption that we are. Sports has its place, though it is also predominant and described or referred to in what our children are taught: competition, winners and losers, even in ‘religion’.
It is the truth of another culture to identify more as a member of that culture than as a unique individual and part of a collective humanity who may self-identify as such. Many are not permitted to make that choice, make it in secret, or embrace the culture.
Each is their own truth; I have learned to accept that, as it appears that all of humanity ‘knowing’ would not be an accurate description of humanity itself, with all its flaws and ‘natural’ tendencies.
If searching for the purposes in our lives consists of acquiring answers to a series of questions, it was inevitable that the one about ‘hate’ would come up eventually, and now being ‘all there is’...; in a different moment, I don’t like it.
Answers were found recently. Still processing, understanding intellectually and not emotionally. I get the words; not yet feeling or fully comprehending them, knowing others don't, the ones we don’t ‘understand’, that as part of our existence we share the planet with. It is contrast that characterizes our humanity, which allows us to distinguish joy from pain and injustice. I will accept this, and understand, not as much now as I will.
Born ‘without a hateful bone in my body’, as they say where I grew up, nor with a capacity for jealousy (who isn’t?). I didn’t understand when others ‘hated’ me for no reason I could see, or were ‘jealous’ for reasons I couldn’t understand. This occurred at different times with different people from childhood to now (like most all of us). When someone I was ‘deeply in love with’ chose someone else over me, I wasn’t jealous, I just didn’t understand. Later, I did. It wasn’t the father of my child, though it paved the way for that experience.
When we seek our essence, the thing that makes us ‘one’, there is no evil or hatred; the latter are learned or imposed by environment. The things people do to each other is not who they are; somehow they were taught to deny themselves in a form of ‘selfishness’, as who we really are has nothing to do with scarcity or competition.
In a lifetime, it appears to be impossible for some to shake off the layers of hatred and fear their environments have surrounded them with, that have told them that the opposite of who they are is what is. Many are not given the option to disagree at a very vulnerable time, as doing so would result in either a spiritual or physical death.
I don’t know how many are walking around with spirits beyond recovery, left ‘alive’ in body, in a hell on earth. I don’t fully understand who cannot or refuses to see this. I can’t explain how I still cannot hate one who deliberately hurts a child or others. ‘Intellectually’, I sometimes feel that I should. The equipment isn’t there; am I blessed, or cursed? I choose the former.
“Children are resilient.” is so often used as an excuse when the choice is to do nothing, consciously or otherwise. Broken spirits can make such statements. How many cannot unbreak the brokenness, mirrors of the systems in which they choose to live?
Someone, at some time in their most tender moments, stole the key, in a way that no one else could replace. I hate the emptiness left behind that gets turned on others. I hate not knowing if the moment has passed or is yet to come when a soul teeters between living and dying, and what might have prevented it. I hate the causes of what creates hate.
Monday, June 30, 2008
'Oneness', and our connections
My 'new' soul associations inspired, and assigned today's entry; my continued gratitude, and shared expression, now, and as we go forward together:
I call myself a catalyst; will never forget the word from first hearing it in chemistry class. Liked the teacher, forgot his name, which doesn't matter; what's in a name anyway? Plenty, according to lots of others on the planet now who have been taught that naming both identifies, and limits (thank you Eckart, and Oprah). Others have called me a connector; I'll take that, too (and thank you as well, Mr. Gladwell). It is in both 'labels' and without them that I exist, that I am. With regard to the latter, and the former, for that matter, there are common themes, which become deeper as one 'moment' leads to the next. If time is an illusion, I've gotten the message at the right time, whatever that is to you, or me.
Have gone full circle as I reflect on the words of my new associates, which in my former existence I would not have done, to check their personal expressions before 'creating' my own. It's different now, what 'happened' since getting the prompt for this expression took place in a sequence that only supported this moment; I am firstly allowing myself to be helped, not being the self-sufficient 'rock', survivor. Our teacher said almost in passing, though it rang loud here, that to ask for help is allowing one from whom input is sought to rise to the occasion (forgive my lack of the exact yet equally profound words). Here, I utilized what was available and willing to further our thoughts, which are both literally and invisibly connected.
The past few years have shaken whoever I once thought I was, in both beautiful and 'awakening' ways. Indeed, I would not be here, or having this experience had 'things' turned out differently (Duh!); though yes, I also said that out loud, and at least to me it didn't sound quite so obvious...
There are many teachers all around us, some assigned, some chosen, some willing though unacknowledged, and some are not in human form, like a plant, or something else...my life is merely an extension and reflection of all of them, even those who feel that to challenge is against me and in their favor; that is part of their journey as well. I'm grateful for the moments of joy sparked by a child, and others. If nothing else, life so far is teaching 'children' the wonders and lessons in small things; it is also what is learned from 'children' in those same moments.
Labels, limits, like the stickers on plastic containers! What if a few are wrong? What if all are 'wrong'? 'Check in' is the place where our bodies tell us the answers, though we don't always interpret the message as it may have been intended. I agree; coming back to where the answers are is the journey of thousands of miles from the same body! And I don't use exclamation points casually. I've come to know where the compass is, and for some time now have had 'Information' stamped on my forehead visible to everyone but a precious few, much to my beautiful child's present though natural resentment (I understand, as one memory from his time is also like yesterday).
That said, this entire exercise has been an illustration in circles, or half-circles, as coming back to where you were is not always an indication of progress. It doesn't help to express to one not so engaged your connection to them, or to feel in a way that makes one uncomfortable another's connection to you, though nothing really changes what is for always.
A purpose is chosen, by some, seen by others, and observed by all, when the choice is made to observe; all are connected, and when we can 'take it', all are one. Being in the zone of 'discomfort' by one is 'home' to another, and can reverse at different 'times'. The words of angels are spoken by those with no shoes, and we are blessed. My joy comes from the eyes of a child, and the comfort of knowing and remembering the depth of truth. The quotes, accepted from those from whom I cannot be separate, say the rest, for now...
There is a field... beyond right and wrong... I'll meet you there. -Rumi
Believe... in spite of the evidence. Then watch the evidence change. -Jim Wallis
I call myself a catalyst; will never forget the word from first hearing it in chemistry class. Liked the teacher, forgot his name, which doesn't matter; what's in a name anyway? Plenty, according to lots of others on the planet now who have been taught that naming both identifies, and limits (thank you Eckart, and Oprah). Others have called me a connector; I'll take that, too (and thank you as well, Mr. Gladwell). It is in both 'labels' and without them that I exist, that I am. With regard to the latter, and the former, for that matter, there are common themes, which become deeper as one 'moment' leads to the next. If time is an illusion, I've gotten the message at the right time, whatever that is to you, or me.
Have gone full circle as I reflect on the words of my new associates, which in my former existence I would not have done, to check their personal expressions before 'creating' my own. It's different now, what 'happened' since getting the prompt for this expression took place in a sequence that only supported this moment; I am firstly allowing myself to be helped, not being the self-sufficient 'rock', survivor. Our teacher said almost in passing, though it rang loud here, that to ask for help is allowing one from whom input is sought to rise to the occasion (forgive my lack of the exact yet equally profound words). Here, I utilized what was available and willing to further our thoughts, which are both literally and invisibly connected.
The past few years have shaken whoever I once thought I was, in both beautiful and 'awakening' ways. Indeed, I would not be here, or having this experience had 'things' turned out differently (Duh!); though yes, I also said that out loud, and at least to me it didn't sound quite so obvious...
There are many teachers all around us, some assigned, some chosen, some willing though unacknowledged, and some are not in human form, like a plant, or something else...my life is merely an extension and reflection of all of them, even those who feel that to challenge is against me and in their favor; that is part of their journey as well. I'm grateful for the moments of joy sparked by a child, and others. If nothing else, life so far is teaching 'children' the wonders and lessons in small things; it is also what is learned from 'children' in those same moments.
Labels, limits, like the stickers on plastic containers! What if a few are wrong? What if all are 'wrong'? 'Check in' is the place where our bodies tell us the answers, though we don't always interpret the message as it may have been intended. I agree; coming back to where the answers are is the journey of thousands of miles from the same body! And I don't use exclamation points casually. I've come to know where the compass is, and for some time now have had 'Information' stamped on my forehead visible to everyone but a precious few, much to my beautiful child's present though natural resentment (I understand, as one memory from his time is also like yesterday).
That said, this entire exercise has been an illustration in circles, or half-circles, as coming back to where you were is not always an indication of progress. It doesn't help to express to one not so engaged your connection to them, or to feel in a way that makes one uncomfortable another's connection to you, though nothing really changes what is for always.
A purpose is chosen, by some, seen by others, and observed by all, when the choice is made to observe; all are connected, and when we can 'take it', all are one. Being in the zone of 'discomfort' by one is 'home' to another, and can reverse at different 'times'. The words of angels are spoken by those with no shoes, and we are blessed. My joy comes from the eyes of a child, and the comfort of knowing and remembering the depth of truth. The quotes, accepted from those from whom I cannot be separate, say the rest, for now...
There is a field... beyond right and wrong... I'll meet you there. -Rumi
Believe... in spite of the evidence. Then watch the evidence change. -Jim Wallis
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