What we see; why we don’t

now where...

Photo Credit: A.M.

“How come they didn’t see it happening?”

“How could they let this happen?”

“How is it possible that it took place and no one knew?”

“How can they say they didn’t see?”

“Can people really be this blind?”

“Don’t they care?”

“Don’t they see?”

 

Maybe they didn’t. The improbable is possible. People can be that blind. Even when they care, they may not see.

It is easy to see what one wants, what’s congruent, what matches assumptions or views or held beliefs. It is easy to recognize what one had learned already, to follow perceptions already accepted, ways familiar … easier to understand words that resonate with what does not burden with new challenges or calls for reassessment or brings up shame.

Shame. People don’t like to see what brings up shame.

The very whiff of it can bring on denial. Projection. Deflection. Blame of others. Avoidance. Cold shoulder. Dismissal. Refusal. Minimization of the pain of others to avoid feeling one has done wrong, seen wrong, is wrong.

Shame tugs along with hate and violence, in words or action or both. Inflicting pain on others might get justified or explained away … A way to keep downtrodden what one thinks should stay unnoticed, un-make-wave-able, quiet, under rugs, buried. Unseen.

It takes time, heart, and bravery to crack and drain shame.

It is easier to blame. To point fingers. To make “an other” to scapegoat or distance from. To claim misfortune due to one’s abilities, affiliation, religion, political leanings, nationality, age, gender, race, vocation, location, possessions or lack thereof.

To yell “false claims”, “exaggeration”, “attention seeking” or the newest term: “fake news.”

Shaming is a weapon of pseudo self-preservation for those who need to ensure the pain of another remains unseen and one’s own comfort can stand unprovoked.

Shame silences:

Unspoken words of wounded children

Pleas of disrespected women

The worlds of the oppressed, belittled, turned against them.

The desperate, the lost … unanswered. Unaccepted. Unacceptable.

Unseen.

 

It does not need to so remain.

To face what was already there but eyes were closed to, is the first step to unmaking shame. To healing pain.

May we find ways to see. May we take heart to act. May we become for others what we need or needed them to see in us, to do for us, to hold with gentleness.

May the unseen become the visible.

May shame be drained.

each other

 

For The Daily Post

Find peace

http://www.pinterest.com/pin/333055334913490394/

Find peace in quiet nature

Find peace in small things born

Find peace in flowers after winter

Find peace in green shoots grown

Find peace in human kindness

Find peace in life galore

Find peace in colors blooming

Find peace in blue-green shores

Find peace in sunshine streaming

Find peace in mornings’ glow

Find peace in smiles unexpected

Find peace in rivers’ flow

Find peace in children’s laughter

And hope in hearts who know.

oldfriends

Pathways to Hope

path

In times of much uncertainty,

It can be hard to see a path

Worth taking.

A walk unencumbered by darkness or demise

Might seem improbable

Potential tarnished

Possibility destroyed.

For there is so much vitriol. Fear-mongering. Divisiveness. Incitement.

There may seem no way worthy.

No path available; a future bleak with war.

 

There’s hope, however, in paths semi-forgotten

In steps untrodden

In walkways hidden under heaps of misdirection, worry, mirrors, smoke.

There are sturdy lanes to follow.

Not the blathering ones cluttered with false promises or empty bravado

But the ones one forges

With their soul.

These paths, too, are waiting

Ever present, patient, true to form.

 

In a time when paths seem blocked

Futures sold to the highest bidder

The loudest, richest, most shocking

To the very wrong …

There are still avenues

Unmarred,

Open vistas

Brimming with

Clear breath

Kindness

Real growth.

 

So if you find the path a-twisted

If you feel the weight of futures crucial to avoid,

Step yourself away from highways-into-nothing

And take instead a quiet stroll

Into your soul.

Find solitude

Hold empathy

Recall respect for all that is,

The Truths that make life possible:

Compassion, not destruction

An open heart

The step by steps which widens futures

To allow companionship

Acceptance

The brilliance woven into threads of love

For tapestries of hope.

path lit

“A Bandaid for my heart”

She asked me if I knew about dying.

I said I knew it hurt when someone we love died.

She nodded and fiddled with the pencil, poked the tip against her finger, poked again. Again.

I wondered if she was trying to make the hurting take a form she understood through the pinprick of a just-sharpened pencil. I gently put my hand on hers.

She looked up at me, thankfully without embarrassment or worry of judgment. Feelings weren’t easy for this child, whose very early years were filled with much that couldn’t be expressed and had no wording. Her grandfather passed away right before her birth and a hue of grief lingered many months, adding to her mother’s post-partum depression. Her mother has recovered since, and the home was generally caring, but unspoken early patterns of if-you-are-quiet-you-won’t-overwhelm-mom and waiting for another’s space to open so you can have your needs met still played out often. The girl, not yet ten, was more likely to attend to others’ feelings than her own; more likely to dismiss her anguish to not distress others.

I smiled at her and she smiled back shyly. Her eyes glistened and she sniffed.

“My dad told you?”

“Your mom did.”

Her eyes flew to mine, surprised at being thought of. She took another breath. Tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie.” I handed her a tissue and snuck a bit of extra affection into the gesture. Just because. She noticed. Smiled the sad smile again.

Her great-grandmother died two nights before. Her father’s grandmother was a fixture in the child’s life. A rock. The one who filled the gaps, stepped in, held, held on. An elder in the best sense of the word. There was a love there that spanned generations. A special bond with this child.

It was a gentle death, the mother said. Doctors believed the grandma had passed away peacefully in her sleep. No pain. No long decline. That was a blessing, but for the child this loss still hollowed.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she whispered.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I moved a strand of hair off her cheek. “You can still say it. Maybe not in the way you’d have wanted, but still …”

“Yeah,” she sniffed. Dismissed. Reconsidered. Looked up. “How?”

“Any way you can think of, almost.”

She pondered. “Dad said she can hear me. In my dreams. In my thoughts.” Her eyes probed. She wanted to believe it.

“I believe that’s possible, yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know exactly. I just feel it. In my heart. About people I love and passed away. It feels right to me that we are still connected, that in some way they can hear me.”

Her eyes overflowed again but her face softened. “I think I’ll talk to her. Tonight, maybe. You know, just me and her.”

I nodded, smiled.

She sighed. Drew in a shuddering breath. Sighed again.

“I miss her,” she whispered. “It hurts. I wish I had a Bandaid for my heart.”

hands-and-heart

 

What PTSD teaches us about human frailty and resilience

The link below will lead you to one of the best interviews about PTSD I have ever seen, hands down.

The fact that Rachel Yehuda is my cousin is an added bonus–I am ever so proud of her: for the person she is, for the work she does, for the wisdom and empathy she imparts, for how she has literally changed the field of PTSD in the last 25 years.

(I recommend reading the transcript, not just viewing the snippet of video on the site)

Take a look. Take a read. You will be glad to have taken the time:

Ingenius: Rachel Yehuda

http://nautil.us/issue/31/stress/ingenious-rachel-Yehuda

 

experience

A New Year Blessing

2015 2016

May it be a year of peace

A year of calm

A year of heart

Of reason.

May it be a year of kindness

Of compassion

Of humanity and understanding.

May it be a year of healing

For this Mother Earth

And all who are together on it.

May it be a year of wisdom

Of light over darkness

Love over hate

Acceptance over ignorance

Courage over fear.

May it be the year where violence recedes

Where patience and respect for one another

Become more valued

Than greed

And need for power.

May it be a year of history remembered

Not repeated.

A year of repair

Not more destruction

Of healing

Not added wounding.

May it be a year where we truly do

Value the future

Of our children

Of humanity

This planet home.

May it be

A happy new year.

A year of joy

Where we could know

Each day by blessed day

That we the people

Are finally

Together

Finding our way.

Keep a light on

May you always keep a light on

In your heart

Your place of better knowing.

May you always keep a light on

Even when it may well seem

The only one

For miles around.

May you always keep a light on

To turn cold

Into warmth inviting

And isolation

Into welcome home.

Thankful

thanks

Thankful for the things

That could be taken for granted

And yet are not so, for too many:

Shelter, food, warm clothing,

Clean water

Safety.

Thankful for the blessings I may not even notice

And yet are never empty:

Clean air, a language others understand,

Having a place

Where I am welcome

A bed to tuck myself into and rise from,

Soft covers,

Floor, a ceiling, sturdy walls.

Thankful for the senses that I have

And do not fail me:

Sight (and insight)

Hearing (and the ability to listen)

Smell (and being able to sniff out what is not right)

Taste (in food, and things, and people)

To be touched in kindness

And to touch others

In reassurance,

In compassion.

Thankful for the love in my life

For health and the ability to tend to it,

For knowing that I have a place to call home …

My heart breaks to know so many don’t.

Thankful for connection

For access to information.

For the ability to research so I can separate truth from distortion,

The freedom to ask questions,

The space to disagree,

Without risking violence and harm.

Thankful … for so much,

And hoping that such thanks could be available

To all.

May there be

A multitude

Of thanks.

penguin hug