Water...

Inclusivity describes an inward and outward looking accepting gaze:  space-holding for the marginalized, disabled entities that compose the sub-conscious/conscious out-group.  The abstraction is real, and one that we know at a visceral level.  I know when I'm not feeling included.  You do too.  The odd one out---not a pleasant experience. Think of a situation where surprisingly you were included.  You were the one on the outside looking in, and suddenly that changed.  You were offered the gift of participation.  You became an actor.  What were the factors that made the difference for you? Cultural taboos comes up for us when we touch this aspect of human reality.  We know inside that we can't be agreeable, lovely, acceptable, to all people, all the time.  We are not these things to ourselves a lot of the time.   Here would be the point.  How inclusive am I of all my own fractured parts?  How willing am I to hold space for the uncomfortable sides of myself?  The ones that I put

I looked into his eyes: Loving, caring goodness. Everything was right. Piercing, intense honesty glinted. Was it fearlessness? Behind those pools of soft brown, fierce courage. He winked. A coy sparkle embracing my gaze. My heart melted. I looked again and knew, Glimpsed the distant forge of life The wisps of sorrow and soul-torture dissipating. He was human. Life had not been any kinder to him than me. I leaned into the mirror and kissed him.

Dimly aware, misty thoughts swirl, coaxed by some neurobiological genie.  What takes shape can hardly be described.  Constantly shifting appearances.  It's more or less a reflection of the writer's own self-perceptions.  An occasional shift and momentarily there's a glimpse of clarity.  Another instance clarity vanishes. Eons of time, past and present places, people known and unknown seem to emerge in and out of awareness.  Other's realities merging with mine.  This consortium is meaningful to me.  Am I so alone in my awareness of my world?  There are authors, poets, painters, sculptors, composers, to...roofers, farmers, cleaners, nurses, doctors, surgeons, factory workers....all swaying in a motion of individuality and unity. Parallel living.  Someone is born while another expires. The myriad threads of human lives weaving from moment to moment to create some stupendous tapestry of breathtaking beauty: life. ------------------- Just some of the images arising between t

Take care.  Just how much is contained in those two words.  I'm not sure I do too well at keeping up with this parting statement.   I take care of others more easily that I take care of taking care of myself.  Yes, I can do this for myself as well, but I think that it takes way more effort to identify my own needs than it takes for me to see the needs of others.   The other has already figured out for me, so all I have to do is answer to their need.  It's so simple.  More complex is to look at myself and judge whether or not I want to help.  I often feel compelled to help.  It's much later that I realize that I often end up "helping" others to avoid what's going on with me.  It's terribly uncomfortable for me to see someone "in need".  It's very easy to jump in and try to share some wisdom or know-how or share some resource that I think up so creatively to assuage the other's discomfort.   It really is very unhinging for me to watch anoth

Everywhere water is a thing of beauty, gleaming in the dewdrop; singing in the summer rain; ---John B Gough Soper, Henry Marlin. Scrap-book Recitation Series: A Miscellaneous Collection of Prose and Poetry for Recitation and Reading, Designed for Schools, Home and Literary Circles. no. 1-4. United States, T.S. Denison, 1880. Page 120  "A Glass of Cold Water" Beauty has a deep connection with creativity.  Creativity, at least human creativity, seems to be one aspect of a well-lived life.   A beautiful life might be described in terms of creativity.  Purpose is a by product of creativity.  Yes, my purpose is fulfilled in finding/creating beauty all around me. Comparisons are moot.  Independent thinking and living are an endless power-house of inspiration.  Self-knowledge, the kind that works for me, is really not so hard.  Reality---what actually is---this is enough.  The struggle is acceptance and opening.  The journey is not so hard.  Harder is resisting what is. Until I &quo

It’s like I’m filled with oceans of experiences. There were spiritual tidal pools that I flopped around in my early days of evolution. One tide would push me into another. Sometimes when the pool dried up, I almost died. I accidentally flopped into new ones, and then somehow a riptide in one pulled me into a vast ocean of nothingness. Is there land? Is there sea? Is there me? From today’s vantage point. Those tidal pools were vast oceans. I explored these realms and ways of being-- thinking--hoping that I’d hit on a safe isle somewhere that would be marked “reality”. God would be gloriously real to me. I’d have no doubts. I explored enough to know that for me, I suppose I was getting used to doubt. The journey of exploration was to get some clarity on what it means to not know. I still think it's a cruel joke to lead innocents on a life-time journey of doubt avoidance. I decided at some point to go ahead and experience the devastating vastness of nothingness and my a

Here is a self-study of some internal "character's" that I'm getting to know.  If you think this is strange language, it's helpful to understand the ideas found in "Internal Family Systems Models" by Richard C Schwartsz.   I'm crafting these stories for my own healing. . . .    "Teach yourself to work in uncertainty"  Bernard Malamud This rough draft was started 2/15/2013.  Today is 4/16/2020 (major edits are highlighted in  orange ).  A bit more than seven years ago. The single lesson for me at this time might be:  accepting any internal goodness.  To look within for new reserves of loving acceptance--I've not done so as often as needed this week.  The feelings and emotions have been strong.  Inside, what do/did I find?  A big mess.  A society of emotions and feelings that simply got out of hand.  I had a riot on my hands--I think.  What soothes me?  Space.  Can I create enough space that I can actually accomplish somethin

Shadow grief... Ideas casting shadows across mindscape. Figures of phantoms and reality. Covid-19 stark, glaring. Imagining 27 kilo bases, unthinkable rising death statistics. Shadowed faces, masking tight lips. Emotions responding Tapping survival instincts Ramping up heightened sensitivities Shadow-fear lengthening penumbra of horror. Numbers are people. Ghastly shadows stacking up one on another. Mute our collective grief, people do die everyday, Do they die at this rate per day? Dancing headlines-- Yesterday’s toll, the bells don’t tell. Today’s dead swelling. Some draw air deeply thoughtlessly exhaling--- Others fighting drowning sipping---at last breath becomes air---forever. The lonely longing digital shadow arms embracing loved ones across the chasms. Human nearness and touch a misty memory. Dark multiplying gliding shadowy specters of terror and aloneness. Young and old slipping beyond reach. Suffocating lungs do not really breathe. M