Caring for Health and the Split Personality

March 22, 2010

I started a cleanse yesterday. No coffee, meat, dairy, sugar, alcohol or animal product of any kind for 3 weeks – that’s the plan. I am a woman of habit so this will be challenging, but I know it is the right thing to do to detoxify my body. It’s spring cleaning for the organs, the blood, the brain, all the parts.

Last night the part of me that usually wins the argument when I attempt something like this, who has a thousand reasons why this is not a good time, the one who thinks life is difficult enough without depriving yourself, started her contentions. She can be so domineering. I saw the part of me that wants this cleanse and wants to learn better habits start to shrink, like the child who doesn’t know how to stand up for herself when someone wants the toy she’s got. The fair mediator and Mom in me stepped up to say to the contentious one that she has had her turn, now it is this other one’s turn.She’ll get her toys back later.  That seemed to settle it! I was amazed. It worked like a charm again today. The kids are taking turns.

I didn’t realize until I was watching the vote for the Health Care Reform Bill last night that yesterday was a really good day to start this cleanse, like my own health care reform; and I can offer it as a fast in gratitude too. I’m sorry for the people who are so upset about this bill, but I have a daughter who is uninsurable because of Type I diabetes and she needs insurance to stay alive. It makes me ache too much for the people who have to have expensive medicine and can’t afford insurance.

We are seeing in this drama that the nation has a split personality too – a lot of contentiousness going on. I hope we find a way to play together better.

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Hurt Lockers

March 21, 2010

Just as I was awakening today the title of the recent Academy Award’s Best Picture winner “The Hurt Locker” came into my mind. Such a powerful movie. I didn’t catch how it got its name, but the words in the title started turning around in my head –  hurt locker, the lockers where we store our hurts, hurts locked in. When we don’t know how to process our hurts we lock them away; when they are too big for us we lock them away. Hurts get stored. I picture it as a vibrational frequency stored in the cells and the genes, continuing even when we don’t remember the scenes in which the hurt happened. Their frequencies constantly influence perception, thought, emotion, behavior. Evidence and observation demonstrate that they are passed on from generation to generation also.

So today I have mused about how to unlock the locker and do some spring cleaning. Wendell Berry has a poem about opening a trench in the ground each spring where he deposits “useless words, fragments, errors.”  After listing all the things he places there he says:

To the sky, to the wind, then
to the faithful trees, I confess
my sins: that I have not been happy
enough, considering my good luck;
have listened to too much noise;
have been inattentive to wonders:
have lusted after praise.
And then upon the gathered refuse
Of mind and body, I close the trench,
folding shut again the dark,
the deathless earth. Beneath that seal
the old escapes into the new.

Maybe some such ritual would be healpful. Wow, I just mistyped helpful, and look at it! I like it. Healpful. Wendell Berry talked about burying useless words and look what already came up – a new one.

However we do it, I hope we will open up our hurt lockers and discard contents that have passed their expiration date. I wish for everyone such a clearing and healing. Time for new, fresh perception, emotion and life.

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Equinox Reflection, Dark and Light

March 20, 2010

Today is the Spring Equinox. Equinox is one of the two moments during a year when there are exactly as many minutes of light as there are dark in the day. In the spring equinox we turn toward longer days and more light.

My thoughts, dreams, experiences and conversations of late have me reflecting on the difficulties we humans experience assimilating darkness into light at psychological, spiritual and emotional levels. In the physical cycles of life, during day we anticipate  night, and in night we prepare for day – it is a loved and understood part of the dance of life. Yet it seems that at other levels we try to split dark from light as if they didn’t belong to each other. At the most simple and personal levels, I seem to see the drama of the intractable nature of the conflict between Palestine and Israel played out. 

As humans we all want the same thing fundamentally: a home, security, love, respect, freedom, basic needs met. Any “other” who appears to threaten one of these basic needs takes on shades of darkness in the mind, at conscious and unconscious levels. The other is defended against instinctually in an honest attempt to protect ourselves and the ones we love, provide for them, and survive in peace.

The idea that there is any such thing as “other” is a mistaken illusion; that is becoming clearer and clearer as we move toward a more global consciousness. Yet there is this inertia, and we continue to base our whole lives on the illusion. Science is proving what the ancients told us and common sense tells us – that we are all one thing on this planet. We are one organism. Just as darkness and light are part of the same circle, self and other are too. We are all part of each other.

At a personal level I hold all of this to be true – but, if anyone hurts me, my child or a loved one, my instincts go to “other”. It takes conscious effort to remember and understand that that “other” is as much a part of myself as my own arm or leg. The needs, hurts, worries, fears are the same as my own.

Today on the Equinox I think of the balance between dark and light that we are experiencing, and hope to find it in myself. As we move toward more light, I also pray that we also move toward more consciousness. There is such a need for figuring out the dance of all of this “otherness.” Politically our nation is on a brink on such a key issue, and personally I see the same challenge in a lot of places. There is so much potential. I hope we work it out.

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New Beginnings, All Things are Possible

March 19, 2010

This has been the winteriest of wintery winters for almost everyone from everywhere that I have spoken to. I have been telling my friends that I will believe spring is coming when I see it, but not before. The almanac, which has been eerily accurate, says the biggest storm of the winter is still to come. So I’ve been hiding my need for spring underground, bracing myself for more white beauty. But today the sun was shining, birds have migrated home, there is actual green on the ground and suddenly anything seems possible. And I know it’s true, I feel it in my cells and bones, all things are possible.

And today I got a new (used) car. Her name is Dorothy. A 2008 Subaru Forester with only 22,700 miles. The Native Americans believe that everything – everything – has a spirit. This refers to a flashlight, a TV or a car as much as rocks and trees. Each has a unique combination of cells that animate a unique spirit. I felt this palpably today as I was saying good-bye to the car that had brought me here from Los Angeles and has so reliably taken me anywhere I needed to go since then. That car never got a name; it was just my survival car, the one that literally carried me from one world to another. I loved it every day that I drove it and felt so safe in it. Saying good-bye and trusting a new car felt huge for me. I was excited but very uneasy. On the way home, as I was saying to my new little car, here is the mountain, you will call this home, you will be bringing me home on this road –  the name Dorothy occurred to me. Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz was always trying to find home. For the majority of  the years of my life I had called Los Angeles home, and I have been working to create a new sense of home here. This new car seemed to be a symbol of something new carrying me, a new sign of home.

Today is just after the New Moon and right before the Equinox. Spring has rarely been so breathlessly anticipated by so many it seems, nor new reasons for hope so longed for. I feel the newness happening. Dorothy is just a tiny symbol speaking to me, but a symbol that I believe is calling me to belief in something bigger. A health care bill might get passed! People who have never had coverage might now have coverage! My daughter who has diabetes might not be uninsurable anymore!

No matter what, I think that holding the frame of mind that anything is possible, all things are possible, nothing is impossible is the way forward. This spring, the imminence of explosions of new life, feels to me that it brings with it nothing but possibility.

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Dangers of Suppression

March 18, 2010

It was Carl Jung’s theory that an angel, if suppressed, becomes a demon. Rilke spoke of it too.

I have just finished trying to catch up on the news of the week. I DVR the news, so on busy weeks I sometimes go through several days all at once. Ouch. It can hurt. In tonight’s catch up, I kept seeing stories and situations where the idea that Jung speaks of, which I have observed during my life and believe to be true, was demonstrated clearly. I would love to use the examples I am thinking of, but am new to the blog world, so I don’t want to offend anyone specific or get sued. I don’t judge the people I am thinking of either. I feel the sad stories come out of ignorance in our culture and training, and should not be pinned on persons alone, not ever.

One specific example I will risk commenting upon to illustrate what I am speaking of is the sad story of the large number of incidents of sexual abuse by priests in Germany reported recently. I take full responsibility for what I am about to say. It is not to be blamed upon Jung or anyone else, it is my feeling. Celibacy is unnatural to most humans. To ask it is to ask for these kinds of crimes. Humans are born with sexual instincts and drives for a reason, and it is my belief that the reason is not just to serve the propagation of the species. That intention is in the heart of the human only the tiniest percentage of the time when they feel the desire for sex. What are nature’s intentions then?

I believe that when understood and appreciated for what they are, sexual drives are angels in our life that help us to fulfill our humanity. They bring us into experiences of love, intimacy, grace, divinity, pleasure of the highest quality. Science tells us that energy is neither created nor destroyed. When the angel of human sexuality is suppressed its energy doesn’t disappear it goes underground, and comes out in unconscious possessions of mind and nature. We become demon possessed. Words are tricky things because by demon I don’t make a judgment either. A demon is an unconscious angel. It’s all just energy. Consciousness is key.

I think I could name a dozen or two stories out of just one session of news catching up that tell of human sorrows and tragedies that result from the suppression of natural human instincts and drives that then have to go underground, their energy moving into the unconscious. They have to come out somewhere, but since they are denied they will come out in ways that an individual would never wish for consciously; the person is just overwhelmed by the energy. It is so sad. I wish I could help. How can we help?

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Irish blessings

March 17, 2010

March 17th. The birthday of my first real love, a boyfriend who died tragically at a young age. It’s an Irish kind of story. They always include the vivid reality of heartache along with the deepest joys and love of life. May the soul of this lovely person who awakened my spirit to so many things live in joy always wherever he goes.

And may the wind be at our backs, and the ground under our feet full of fairies and leprechauns shooting up magic dust as we pass. The deep green of Irish landscapes and the deep brown of Guiness beer to each of ye. Ah, it’s a gift to be alive.

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It’s all about Heart

March 16, 2010

Yesterday I wrote about the musicians who had come from Ireland to play in my home and my friends who had come from every which way to join them. The thing is, if any of us had been using our heads last evening wouldn’t have happened. John and Claire wouldn’t have headed up this mountain in the big vehicle that carries the harp, or have come from Ireland to play for whatever they get in the hat for that matter. My friends wouldn’t have come out in fog and snow and mud and the possibility of worse conditions on the way home if they hadn’t been thinking completely with their hearts rather than their heads. Having heard John and Claire last year when they were here the first time, a heart connection was made. They braved the conditions following their hearts. I have felt deeply touched and moved all day as I felt the after effects. This is the way to move in the world. It is all about heart.

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Mountain Magic

March 16, 2010

I feel privileged beyond description tonight. Last year I was fortunate to host musicians from Ireland that my sister had met while traveling there. Claire Roche, a harpist, vocalist and songwriter and her husband John Wilmott fly over here once a year and travel across the US bringing their Irish music, stories and fun into people’s living rooms. They are at the beginning of this year’s  five-week tour and were in my home tonight. A neighbor who heard Claire last year calls her the “surround sound lady.” Her voice fills the air like an angel choir. And the songs she sings are out of her own heart, she has been writing them all of her life. She also sings songs from long Irish traditions. John tells myths and stories with  joy, humor and wisdom.

Their intention is to keep the tradition alive of sharing music in intimate gatherings in peoples’ homes, the way it has long been done in Ireland and Scotland for centuries. When my sister met them in Ireland and heard about their tour, she told them, “You have to go visit my sister in North Carolina! They do music like this all of the time in each other’s homes.” So last year they came for the first time and played for us. After their sets the local musicians sat down and played their Appalachian music for them. John and Claire were deeply affected. Claire said, “I thought they only did this in the films!”

Tonight was a wintery night in Appalachia – the kind of night that no one generally leaves their own hearths and braves the roads. But John and Claire were coming, and so my friends came out from every which way to warmly welcome them. I was very moved by this. We enjoyed the heavenly sound of Claire’s harp and song, and John’s stories were delightful. When they finished, my friends played for them. There is no magic like this magic. People’s hearts and voices came together in a way that feels like combustion. I picture a big rosy glow, maybe with some green from the St. Patrick’s day time, going up from here and filling the sky like the Northern Lights. To me this night was as good as it gets.

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Stink and Creativity

March 14, 2010

I have an unusual but striking observation to share this day. In December of 2009 , just three months ago, we experienced a snowstorm in these mountains that was worse than any of the last 12 years. For nearly a week electricity was out, phones were out, roads were under feet of snow. I was without light or water (as it takes electricity to pump it from the well). I had to melt snow on the fire to get water to wash dishes or myself. Being someone who showers regularly under normal circumstances, the lack of bathing day after day was unusual for me. The experience being so survivalist and so extreme, however, I found that the odors of my own body – which are not unpleasant at all actually, just unusual for a regular bather – seemed to be comforting. I knew I was alive.

Tomorrow is my deadline for two big things  – an article I have been writing for about three weeks is due, and there is a big event at my home with musicians coming from Ireland to play and guests coming from every direction to hear them. All of the days of this week had been taken, so today became the day for finishing the writing and tomorrow the day for house cleaning, sink scrubbing, stuff sorting and cooking for maybe 35 guests.

This morning I got up and sat at my computer to work on the writing. I thought I would work for a bit and then take my shower. It is almost midnight and I have barely moved from this spot, so determined am I to not leave for tomorrow that which I KNOW I won’t have time for tomorrow. During the latter hours of the day I started detecting the natural body odors that I lived with during the long days of darkness without light and water, the smells that during a trying time seemed to mean survival. I know this sounds strange, but I have learned in my travels to less privileged countries that people who don’t have the abundance, or excess, that we have often just smell like themselves rather than soap. And I have appreciated that.

Since just smelling like myself rather than washing that away meant survival to me so recently, today my brain seemed to connect what I was doing with survival. I realized that the writing felt like survival for me. And I thought that probably when an artist is too well bathed, too sane, too on top of everything in the reasonable, rational, clean, lighted world their art is not wholly to be trusted. My mother would definitely not approve of my conclusion here, but the stink of my distraction makes me trust what I am doing.

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Listen to the Heart to Know Thyself

March 13, 2010

I am moved tonight having just watched a CNN documentary called Her Name Was Steven, the story of Largo, Florida mayor Steve Stanton who very publicly changed from a man to a woman in 2007. Before the film began, CNN also interviewed a person who had undergone the same transition. I did not get the last name, but she had gone from David to Donna. Donna gave the interview. She was as articulate, eloquent, sincere, heartful, grounded and intelligent.

About a year ago I also saw a very moving Barbara Walters special that interviewed children who inside always knew that they were a different gender than their bodies. In most cases their parents could see it from the earliest ages also. When I look into the eyes and hear the stories of the people who live with this and those who love them, I am profoundly humbled by what I see and experience. I can barely imagine the courage it takes to be them. In each of the cases, the heart of the person interviewed has been obviously clear and sincere. These are persons confronted at an unimaginable level with how extremely complex humans are and the psyche is. In their private situations they are having to deal with huge forces of judgment, misunderstanding and intolerance on a daily basis. If their minds were in charge they could not begin to work this out. They have to be listening to their hearts. The heart’s intelligence is so far superior to that of the mind, and is so little translated into the mind due to our neglect of it.

I find people who listen to their hearts at such a level, and who face their destinies knowing they have no honest alternative, deeply inspiring. The people that I witnessed tonight are no less to me than the Rosa Parks’, Nelson Mandela’s, Martin Luther King’s of a different issue that challenges our hubris and intolerance as a species. Listening them helps me listen to everything more deeply.

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