Monday, September 30, 2013

Healing From Trauma in America

Monday, September 30, 2013


I am both happy and relieved to report that my Hawaii project has been postponed.  I very much want to go to Hawaii but the current timing is a bit challenging.  After speaking with the program director today we agreed to consider having me come to assist in November.  Renegotiating the project would allow me to enjoy October here in Minnesota and still participate at a date in the near future that will allow me more time to get other aspects of my life in order.

I went to visit my therapist today.  Thankfully the PTSD resolution is happening smoothly enough such that I can now go back to work.  The primary question before me now is what will I do for work.  And this brings me to yet another commentary about the state of our nation.

The federal government of the United States will reduce its operations tomorrow due to the inability of the House of Representatives and Senate to find common ground.  The last time there was a federal government shutdown was in 1995.  I personally find it appalling that the GOP is willing to risk a government shutdown due to their obsession with attempting to defund and even eliminate Obamacare. Such a shutdown puts our economy at risk, endangers the basic welfare of some of our neediest citizens, makes us look like a laughingstock before the world and generally inspires little confidence in the capacity of the United States not just to successfully attend to its own affairs but to manage its commitments abroad.  It's amazing what the egos of spoiled white men are capable of.  Being held accountable for their arrogance, stupidity and melodrama seems to be something well outside their frame of reference.  They do not seem to understand how much many Americans have been struggling to recover from the economic implosion of five years ago which Obama inherited from the former idiotic "president" known as George W. Bush.

I am continuing to do the work necessary to find my own personal healing.  The antics going on within our own federal government have convinced me that it is wise to contemplate a longer term future in other parts of the world.  Last year I gave my time and energy in an internship with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration in Silver Spring, Maryland.  I was hoping to start a career within the organization.  That has not happened yet.  And now, given the continuing gridlock in Washington, DC as marked by the failure of our Congress to successfully execute its most basic responsibilities, I have completely given up.  I no longer desire a career in the federal government.  I do not want a career in which I would live within a milieu defined by such contempt for civility and public trust.

I still love the country of my birth.  Yet I can no longer easily stand by and watch such ridiculous behavior here at home when so many other Americans needlessly suffer as a result.  A spirit of compromise needs to infuse our governance structure.  Yet a willingness to compromise has been sadly lacking here in the American political scene for many years.  Instead we witness a daily barrage of finger-pointing, name calling and pettiness the likes of which you would expect on a playground of kindergartners.  It's sad.

Those among us in need of ongoing quality medical care are collectively put at greater risk by the events in Washington, DC.  And even if a compromise is reached in a short time and the federal government resumes full operations there will still be damage done by what is unfolding now.  Indeed how can you encourage people both inside and outside of this nation to invest in America when our Congress seems capable of operating in only one mode, namely crisis mode?  This manufactured crisis is a ridiculous melodrama that is wasting taxpayer money and time.  There are many of us here who would enjoy getting on with the business of living.  If only our own Congress would act in the interests of all its citizens.


Saturday, September 28, 2013

The Beauty of Diverse Cultures

Saturday, September 28, 2013


Today I am going to begin the gradual transition towards orienting my blog to focus on my upcoming project in Hawai'i.  For those of you who have followed my blog since the beginning as well as those who have discovered my online presence more recently I welcome you to follow along.

I have alluded to my love of Hawai'i in previous posts.  As today's blog entry I invite you to read the contents of a cover letter I composed when I applied for a position within the United States Department of the Interior at Kaloko-Honokohau National Historical Park.  The position I applied for was a Cultural Resources Program Manager.  I was never contacted for an initial interview.  Nonetheless, the letter I composed conveys my appreciation of Hawaii quite well.  Here it is:


I have been blessed with the opportunity to travel and experience the diversity of the world’s cultures since my childhood.  As a very young man I was sent to work with the Lakota Native American people living on the Rosebud Reservation as part of my formation training while a novice member of the Society of Jesus.  This time represented my first intensive cross-cultural immersion experience as an adult.  Upon leaving the Rosebud Reservation I found my personal development and perspective significantly changed.

I later pursued a fairly unconventional masters degree program offered by Naropa University.  Dr. Pamela Colorado, PhD created the program.  Her intention in creating the program was to offer students often of Caucasian background the opportunity to rediscover their own indigenous cultural traditions, stories and cosmologies.  Dr. Colorado has made it her life’s work to bring about a healing convergence between indigenous cultures and the modern world as well as between indigenous modalities of scientific inquiry and Western science.  I found the academic training and mentoring to be both intellectually rigorous as well as deeply healing.  I had previously foregone the opportunity to practice my training in atmospheric science due to my belief that the sciences as I had learned them were not sufficiently holistic in their perspective.

The degree program required all students to participate in residential learning intensives held once a semester on the island of Mau'i where Dr. Colorado makes her home.  I was mentored by elders from a variety of indigenous cultures including the Hawaiian people, the Aleut of Alaska and Native American tribes from the continent of North America.  These learning intensives introduced me to the traditional cultural practices, history and mythology of the Hawaiian people.  Our learning intensives introduced us to several sacred sites on the island of Mau'i.  During one intensive my student cohort traveled to an ancient petroglyph site to remove graffiti!  It is this unique program combined with my additional academic education and professional work experience that I assert qualifies me for the position of Cultural Resources Program Manager.


If you would like to learn more about the work of Dr. Colorado please visit the Worldwide Indigenous Science Network website.  Her life work is amazing and very rich.  I encourage you to consider contributing to her vision in whatever way might interest you.

I know the island of Mau'i best.  This will be my second time visiting the island of Moloka'i.  I look forward to having you following along!




Friday, September 27, 2013

Accelerating the Process of Recovery

Friday, September 27, 2013


I am fortunate to be able to report that my fundraising effort to embark on a one month project in Hawaii has been quite fruitful.  Though I did not hit my original goal of $2K I am nonetheless very grateful and excited by the generosity that was shown to me by many people.  I am trusting that the remaining details will fall into place in a timely way.

One primary goal I have set for myself during my time in the midst of the Pacific Ocean is to allocate some time each day to more diligently visualize and imagine what I want the remainder of my life to be like.  Throughout these last three months I have been focused almost exclusively on my own health improvement.  Thankfully this time is now receding behind me.  A much more expansive vista now awaits me in the present and future.

I am also excited to live in an environment where healthy eating will be relatively easy given the supportive quality of the retreat center I will be working at.  Developing a greater base of knowledge regarding nutrition is another one of my primary goals.  There is so much that I want to learn.

Now that I have finally clearly appreciated the magnitude of the impact of being around so much illness when I was growing up I can begin the much deeper process of working through how this affected me. Somehow, despite all the therapy, personal development workshops, formal education, mentoring and so on I never really felt in my mind and body just how deeply drained I felt by being in the environment I was in with my mother and father until that old associated grief awoke in me earlier this year.  I love my mother and believe she did the best she could.  I do not fault her for becoming sick and eventually moving back to Germany.  And yet in my child mind of the time my feeling of loss was as vast as the Pacific Ocean.

Tonight is one of the last truly warm nights of the year here in Minnesota.  It nearly feels tropical outside.  It's a good stimulus for me to focus my mind on Hawaii.  In the coming days I will provide more details about the project I am undertaking on the island of Moloka'i.




Thursday, September 26, 2013

A Time of Change

Thursday, September 26, 2013


I took my customary morning walk around the nearby park today.  It was easy to recall the title of a book I have never read but have always wanted to just based on the title alone: In September The Light Changes.  The light is indeed changing.  The time of year near the equinoxes is that time when we lose or gain light at the most rapid pace.  I do not find it as easy to awaken early in the mornings now because the mornings are quite dark until nearly 7 a.m.

As autumn takes hold and the greens of summer begin their inevitable fading away I realize that I myself am going through a period of adjustment and change.  I have adjusted to the primary event of the summer that I was not expecting.  That event is most naturally my diagnosis that I was not expecting to receive.  As I began to settle into restructuring my life in response to this development I struggled (as I believe many ultimately do) with just how I think of myself and how I set my short term and longer term goals.  I often wondered what was realistic to work towards.  I find this inner process is beginning to "mellow out" a bit now that the original shock is gone.

I have been very fortunate to enjoy the generosity of some amazing friends as well as strangers.  Because of their generosity and my own determination I will be making a trip to Hawaii next week to assist with the reforestation project work of the Hui Ho'olana Healing Arts Center on the island of Moloka'i.  I cannot easily state in words how excited I am to go.  I am giving myself the gift of this experience in part to find a way to contribute something more to the beautiful Hawaiian islands.  Hawaii has a special place in my heart.  And I am also making this journey to find a more intensive way to address the PTSD condition I was diagnosed with in June.  I plan to document my daily experiences while in Hawaii.  I will have Internet access on site and plan to write a bit each day.

It will be interesting to return to Minnesota around the beginning of November.  It's not exactly the ideal time of year to relocate here to this part of the world.  Darkness and cold grow strong in the northland by that time of year.

Aloha!



Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Sky Splitting Insight

Tuesday, September 24, 2013


I had an experience equivalent to being struck by lightning today.  It was fitting I was wearing my lightning bolt wristband.  I wear it many days as a way of honoring the story of Thor.

Many times throughout my life I have noticed how some amazing gifts can ironically come to us through some of our deepest and darkest moments.  Today it was as if that awareness was magnified a hundred fold.

I have been attending a class on forgiveness throughout this month.  The class is offered at Pathways Health Crisis Resource Center here in Minneapolis.  The class generally consists of approximately a dozen people.  Today one of the participants had a persistent cough.  It was so persistent in fact that many of the participants in the room gradually became more and more uncomfortable.  Yet not a single person spoke up initially.  Eventually the participant struggling with the cough left early.  She was not asked to leave nor does it seem she intentionally left early due to any discomfort she may have perceived in others in attendance.  As soon as she left the discomfort people were silently sitting with took center stage.  Several people spoke of the discomfort and fear they felt not knowing if they were being perhaps exposed to something more serious that might ultimately impact their own health.  Fear was in the room with us.

Something remarkable happened once the silence was broken and the pink elephant in the room was acknowledged.  I began to realize just how much fear, anxiety and trepidation I had felt in the earliest years of my life when my mother began to suffer her schizophrenic breakdown.  Sitting in a room with someone whose coughing left me wondering if something more serious were actually going on was a perfect trigger for this ancient anxiety I felt so early in my life.  It is no wonder I spoke of being held hostage yesterday.  Speaking in such terms is the best way to convey how I felt in my first years.

As my fellow participants shared their own internal state of being they felt earlier in the class I sat and did my best to simply breathe.  I could do little else because the immensity of my realization was washing over me like a massive wave.  I was appreciating just how deeply those early years of my life affected me.  I was realizing how I felt like a hostage trapped in a scenario I could not have escaped even if I had wanted to because I was a mere very small child and thus did not have the resources or maturity to launch an escape.  I was remembering in my body how energetically draining it felt to be present to my mother's breakdown as it began to unfold day after day, week after week, month after month.  It is no wonder my life has been so out of balance for so long.  This earliest and deepest trauma proved so energetically demanding to deal with that it devastated me inside.  And throughout that unfolding drama developed the primary thought that has played out in my life for far too long: "I don't have enough".

I left the class today profoundly shaken but profoundly enlightened.  In allowing myself to sit in the class and draw my complete attention to the depth of my discomfort and then also asking myself in a spirit of innocent curiosity just why I was having such an intense feeling of aversion I was able to pull open a window to the past and feel in my body just how anxiety provoking it felt to be me as a very small child.  The memory of those many days of anxiety embedded in my own body came into my conscious awareness in a way it never previously had.

In the early days of writing my blog I disclosed my growing awareness of these feelings from the first years of my life.  I expressed the thoughts and feelings in different ways including verbally with such expressions as "I wanted to run away many times".  Looking back now with a greater ability to recover my memory of those first years I can articulate that my primary feelings were anxiety, dread and even sadness.  Somehow at a very early age before I could easily form words I seem to have sensed my mother's health was beginning to spiral downward.  And yet I could not even express my anxiety and fear in words.  I was that young.  And my psyche was that impressionable.

I still feel quite altered this evening as I compose this.  I wanted to ensure I recounted the events of this morning soon thereafter while they remain crisp in my memory.  The question that lies before me now is this: How do I proceed forward knowing and remembering what I have?

My ancient grief, sadness, anxiety and dread is now fully within my conscious awareness.  I am doing my best to burn away the psychic dreck of the past.  I am shedding a body armoring and interior pain I have carried for so long.  Where it shall lead me I do not know.

Sweet dreams!




Monday, September 23, 2013

Held Hostage

Monday, September 23, 2013



I do my best to be careful with the diet of news I allow myself to ingest.  And yet some sad stories manage to trickle through because they are plastered on the front pages of the local newspaper.

I have not closely followed the Kenyan mall hostage story but it certainly has all the makings of being the type of event that will engender PTSD in any number of people.  I find there to be something sickeningly perverse in the fact that the backdrop for the unfortunate drama is a shopping mall.  I am reminded of a comment made at the men’s conference I recently attended regarding shopping malls.  The comment was something to the effect that shopping in a mall is something like partaking in a massive grief ritual.  This perspective strikes me as possessing a kernel of truth; American shopping malls can overwhelm the senses and leave you feeling a profound emptiness if you immerse yourself in consumer media encouraging you to buy so many items you neither truly need nor actually want.

I received another piece of sad news just recently.  I learned the former partner of a friend from California committed suicide last year.  Though I did not know John very well I did feel a sufficient familiarity with him to feel genuine grief when I heard of his passing.  I wondered what his thoughts must have been like those last few days before he took his life.  Feelings of isolation and hopelessness seem to be common among those feeling suicidal as well as those who actually do take their lives.  In some sense I think feeling suicidal feels very much like being a hostage.  You might feel possessed by such darkness and be embroiled in such distorted thinking that the only sure release you can imagine is death.  The issue of suicide was also broached at the conference I attended earlier this month.

In my own mind suicide seems to exemplify what happens when the experience of being held hostage reaches an extreme.  I believe there are certainly many circumstances in which terminating your own life can actually be an act of great compassion.  People suffering terminal illness and severe pain may find hastening their own passing to be a means of immense relief.  I have never believed an institution or any person has the right to force terminally ill individuals to continue to live in pain when this contradicts these individuals’ own wishes.  And yet when the body is healthy and yet the mind or spirit is deeply troubled suicide strikes me as such a terrible loss.  I believe we all lose when otherwise healthy people who have so much to offer end their own lives.

I find the experience of being held hostage an apt metaphor to reflect on today.  The opposite of being held hostage is letting go.  There are moments in life when it seems we receive profound invitations to let go.  Sometimes it’s a person we love dearly who parts ways with us under wonderful or unfortunate circumstances.  Sometimes we lose a job, an opportunity or something as precious as a healthy outlook that changes how we subsequently see the world and our place within it.  Over time such losses can add up and, when not sufficiently grieved, take on the likeness of a leaden weight strapped to our backs.

In my own life I have been coming to the rather profound realization that I have felt myself held hostage by some other part of myself for some time now.  My dawning realization has been akin to the sensation of walking into a darkened room and slowly turning up a light on a rheostat such that measure by measure I begin to see the outlines of something I could never previously clearly see.  I have managed to work past the initial distress I felt as my awakening commenced this past summer.  Now I am moving forward and actively asking the question each day: “What comes next?”

I can clearly identify who the hostage taker is.  The hostage taker in my own life journey is grief.  Grief left unexpressed, unfelt, unattended to and un-honored can become a consumer of your lifeforce.  Such has been my deepening understanding.  In a forgiveness class I have been participating in at the local Pathways Health Crisis Resource Center we recently discussed how we can deal with painful feelings in a healthy way.  Ironically the surest way to relieve a darkness within oneself is to embrace it fully.  Thus the surest way to relieve the hostage taker of grief is to turn around and hug it fiercely.  Embrace the grief as you would the most precious child you can imagine.  In doing so you will finally no longer be in its thrall.

Leaning into our pain is often easier said than done.  But I realize more and more that it is necessary for our own sanity and personal freedom.  As I prepare for autumn and that time when the world outside becomes stripped bare I find myself confronted with the internal task of stripping myself of all the distractions and unnecessary activity that I have used to avoid the deep work of confronting this hostage situation once and for all.

I suspect it’s going to be an interesting autumn.



Saturday, September 21, 2013

The Well of Grief


Saturday, September 21, 2013




"Not every grief has trauma in it but every trauma has grief."


With each passing day I have continued to gain increasing clarity regarding what has plagued my heart and health recently and over the course of my life.  And I come back to the same theme many, many times.  It's grief!
When I recently visited with my therapist we did yet another session utilizing EMDR.  In this most recent session we visited another time in my childhood and I discovered yet again a grief I never fully expressed at the time I first felt it.  As a pre-teenage boy there was once a time when it seemed as if I might 'inherit' a brother; at one time my father was dating a woman with a son of her own.  So many years later I recalled the thrill I felt when it seemed more than merely highly improbable that I might have a brother of my own and even one basically my own age.
My father ultimately did not marry this boy's mother.  Life carried my father and me on a different course.  And yet the sadness and grief I felt when this possibility of greater boyhood companionship never materialized is something I did not feel fully at that time.  I didn't fully feel and release the grief I felt at that time in my life.


I recall even now how it felt like such a magical time in my life at that time.  Around this same time I had become fascinated with the skies above.  A summer trip to New Mexico stoked my passion for stargazing.  I remember there had been the possibility that my 'potential brother' and his mother would make the trip to New Mexico as well.  That didn't ultimately come to pass either.
What I am beginning to appreciate more and more is the wisdom that was shared just last week at the Minnesota Men's Conference. One of the presenters, a therapist based in California, spoke of how grief is very much a private affair in American culture.  And yet the privatization of grief is a very, very recent creation.  For most of human history people lived in much more coherent communities based on tribe or clan.  People had a community of support to look to in times of grief and struggle.  This is sadly lacking in much of the industrialized, hyperactive West.  And in the loss of those spaces of authentic, deep community we have become very impoverished on an individual level.
In my own particular life journey I see now that I have struck that deepest and most immense layer of grief.  And yet grief still is such a mystery to me.  And I imagine it still strikes even the most seasoned 'grief experts' as mysterious as well.  Just as with trauma there are different types of grief.  We can carry grief related to very personal experiences of loss.  And then there is the grief an entire people may feel when they experience the horror of genocide.  And I suppose there is even another type of grief we may carry both individually and collectively that is a healthy response to the horrors of what we have allowed to unfold on this planet.  Fukushima.  Three Mile Island.  The Holocaust.  Vietnam.  Agent Orange.  There are so many horrors we humans have unleashed on ourselves and the Earth itself.


As I made my way to a shamanic drumming circle tonight I was able to appreciate the amazing beauty and light on the other side of immense grief.  I spent much of the afternoon contemplating the horrible devastation of Fukushima.  On my journey on the bus to the venue late this afternoon I found what lies on the other side of immense grief.  There on the other side is immense joy.  I marveled at everything.  I marveled at the way sunlight was falling upon the many trees around town.  I enjoyed the sky, the air and the immense variety of people I encountered.  It was beautiful!








Friday, September 20, 2013

Leaving Behind Barbieland

Friday, September 20, 2013


Yesterday evening I did something I wish not to do again.  It was nothing all that horrible really.  I ate at Burger King.

In the vast expanse of human horrors eating at Burger King would seem quite minor.  And indeed it is...essentially.  And yet there is something about sitting eating food whose history I know little about among people I have never previously met while under the gaze of two security cameras and bathed in fluorescent lighting that I find quite unsettling.

While I ate I noted how much of my surroundings were made of plastic.  The tray my food was served on was plastic.  The seating was plastic.  And the feelings I had as I consumed my meal and gazed about felt quite "plastic" as well.  I found myself feeling shame that my occasional apathy regarding cooking well and eating well had left me satisfied with fare offered up by Burger King.  Yes, shame is indeed the word to describe but one feeling I had.  The manner in which I lived last night was antithetical to that which I experienced a week ago at the Minnesota Men's Conference.  Whereas the conference afforded me experiences of fellowship, intimacy, health, encouragement and joy the act of eating by myself in a world of plastic and strangers was essentially something that belongs to a world on the other side of a spectrum.  Last night was an experience that featured isolation, "passing" (i.e. just getting by in regards to nutrition), artificial colors and seating not especially welcoming to the human form.

So much of my life has felt fake or plastic.  After leaving Burger King I retrieved my bicycle and noticed one of the cover stories of the newspaper.  As I have noted in previous posts I have found it very difficult to follow any news whatsoever since returning from my trip to Germany on June 1st.  There on the front page was a story about the latest fight between Republicans and Democrats in which the Republicans are agitating (for the umpteenth time) to vote to defund Obamacare.  I cannot ever recall a time in my own life when the Republican party has offered less in terms of creativity, compassion and sensible policy as it does now.  They have become the party of corporate whores.  Also in the news was a proposed bill that would cut $40 billion from the SNAP (food stamps) program over the next decade.  Somehow the Republicans seem to think it wise public policy to further shred the safety net so that those most in need of it are left in potentially more desperate circumstances.  I honestly do not know what happened to my country.

This nation, this country I grew up in, feels like a hollow shell of its former self.  I have no desire to idolize the past.  In many respects this country has moved forward in the last several decades.  Civil rights is one example.  And yet in many other respects I feel as if we are throttling backwards.  The rise of corporations such as Monsanto leaves me feeling very worried for the future.  I cannot describe our country as a vital democracy without wincing or feeling a bit nauseated.

It seems fair to call this nation Barbieland.  A pop song that was popular a few years ago keeps resounding through my mind.  It's a song about Barbie.  And one of the most telltale lines is:
"Laughing plastic, it's fantastic".  That seems to describe the United States well.  We eat "foods" that have been banned in many other nations.  With all the toxic nonsense that swirls around embedded within our food supply we truly are becoming a population of laughing plastic people.  And yet as I was sitting in Burger King surrounded by plastic I did not find myself laughing.  I found myself feeling sadness and revulsion.  It's as if I was participating in a ritual of alienation.


I have noticed that recently I seem to be developing a genuine following here on my blog.  I find that heartwarming.  Those of you who are reading may feel as if I am speaking in hyperbole.  Perhaps that is a fair assessment.  I can nonetheless say that I do not want to be part of a plastic world where so much is contrived, masked and fake.  I want to leave behind Barbieland and the many plastic signposts of this nation.  I want to rediscover my roots in the deepest way possible.




Thursday, September 19, 2013

The Significance of Compassion

Thursday, September 19, 2013


Yet again I have found myself ensconced in an awareness that has been coming to me frequently in the last several weeks and even months.  I have been appreciating how much compassion I have regularly attempted to extend to others and how relatively little I have extended to myself throughout my life as a whole.

This awareness descends upon me at the most unpredictable times.  And yet one common theme to all the instances in which I feel aware of this call for more compassion for myself is the occurrence of pain.  If I have been sitting for too long or doing something I find mentally or emotionally stultifying it seems more likely I will find myself suddenly reflecting on compassion.

I feel myself caught in a bit of a struggle right now due partly to the fact that it feels as if so many different concerns are vying for my attention at the same time.  And because I am emerging out of a period of significant difficulty (this summer when it seemed all I did was address a variety of health concerns) I sometimes wonder if my own thinking is distorted or at least so altered that I cannot trust myself to be seeing my broader reality in a fairly clear way.  Thus does it feel wise for me to be engaging in psychotherapy at this time.  And the therapy is helping from what I can see.  And yet I often feel confused as to how I should proceed forward.

There was an interesting concept presented at the men's conference I recently attended.  It was the idea of "right mistake".  I find it a curious concept partly because it seems to imply that there are actually no right choices that can be made.  Each choice we make automatically opens up a field of additional possibilities while simultaneously closing out another range of possibilities.  And yet no choice we ever make will guarantee that what follows will be easy or that we will always feel sure we have made the best choices we could possibly make.  We make choices and then live with the consequences.  And no person is capable of foreseeing all the possible consequences of any particular choice.  To have such foreknowledge would require a capacity I think only an all knowing deity could have.

I have tried throughout my life to be a good and honorable person.  I suppose that is partially why I have felt baffled, saddened and even betrayed by what I have experienced these last two years.  It seemed that despite my best intentions the consequences of many choices I have made have proven quite unsavory.  This time has definitely been one in which I could perceive it as an invitation to cultivate a greater compassion for myself.

I want to find my way out of the thicket of confusion I have felt myself to be in for too long.  I continue to pray for guidance and help.  I do sense a shift occurring.  I sense I will soon be embarking on another eventful ride!


Wednesday, September 18, 2013

The Wild Ride

Wednesday, September 18, 2013


It has been three days since I arrived back from the Minnesota Men's Conference.  I have found it a bit challenging to enter back into my ongoing "reality".  I have these moments when I realize just how deep the current of loneliness has run through the depths of my heart and mind.  And I realize how much grief has lay dormant within the channels of my own body as well.  That grief has come so fully into my conscious awareness that I find it looming before me and asking for my attention.  And I am struggling a bit to give it attention because of the limitations I have experienced with learning how to sit with, express and allow myself to feel what I do.

Though I feel a great amount of sadness when I consciously recognize the depths of my grief I thankfully also feel a degree of gratitude that I am able to consciously see what is within me.  This was not always true.  Developing consciousness is a process; one does not complete a healthy development of an adult self (or a genuine healing process for that matter) in a matter of days.  And rarely does one reclaim split and disowned parts of self in a short time either.  The process of walking such a journey requires discipline and commitment.  I have remained steadfast in my commitment.  And I continue to trust that eventually I will witness greater fruits of my self-care.

I also feel sadness that I have decided to pull back from a social and creative commitment I made at the beginning of this year.  I simply cannot pursue it at this time due to a number of factors.  I need to concentrate on my own healing.  I also am intent on going to Hawaii in October to help out with a reforestation project on the island of Moloka'i.  And then there is the reality of the politics of the leadership of the organization I was a part of.  In my personal opinion there was definite room for improvement.  It is indeed a wise choice for me to step back and regroup.

The darkness in the outdoor world is building so rapidly now that only the most unconscious among us could fail to notice how quickly the light of day is decreasing.  I do not feel depressed by this but I do still feel that lingering sadness that the time of greatest light and beauty for this year was a time when my whole world was turning upside down yet again.

Tonight, before going to sleep, I shall look upon my mug with the image of Hawaii upon it and pray for help to come to me from any and all directions.  We are social and interdependent beings.  I need lots of love and support.  This writing I offer each and every day to the world is an act of love.

I am a lover of life.  I welcome other lovers of life into my own.

Peace and blessings.




Tuesday, September 17, 2013

The Beautiful Gift of Hawai'i

Tuesday, September 17, 2013


Anybody who knows me relatively well knows that I have a strange, magical and mystical relationship with the Hawaiian Islands.

I first journeyed to the island of Maui nearly ten years ago while a student of Naropa University.  At the time I was attending a masters degree program offered through a collaboration between Naropa University and the University of Creation Spirituality (UCS).  UCS was created through the vision of Matthew Fox.  Fox is a former Dominican who was excommunicated from the Catholic Church.  My primary mentor in my studies was Dr. Pamela Colorado.  Dr. Colorado offered a concentration of study in indigenous science.  When I began the program I had no idea what a wild ride I was in for!  I'll plan to share more of that history in later posts.

As I have already noted I was away this past week at the Minnesota Men's Conference.  On Friday I received an unexpected email.  I was contacted by the Hui Ho'olana Healing Arts Center on the island of Moloka'i.  I first journeyed to the Hui on Moloka'i in May, 2011 to participate in a breathwork retreat offered by the very talented breathwork facilitator Christian de la Huerta.  I participated in this retreat as a way to reward myself for completing graduate school.  Last Friday I was asked if I would be interested in coming to Moloka'i this October to assist with the opening of the facility for the new season and to lend my energy to the reforestation work the Hui is known for.  Needless to say I was quite surprised by the email and quite enthusiastic to receive such an invitation.  It was also amusing to note that only a few moments before I opened my computer I had put on the only Hawaiian print shirt I had brought with me.  Hawai'i finds me wherever I go.

The next morning, on the occasion of my birthday, I went to the main lodge at Camp Miller for breakfast.  I first decided to get some tea.  I pulled out a mug from the top dish rack.  It happened to be the only mug on the entire property with an image of the Hawaiian Islands on it.  I took this as an indication that Hawaii was indeed in my future.  I remember how much I smiled and laughed when I saw Hawaii in my vision...literally.

Later on Saturday I received the email confirming acceptance of my application to assist in October.  It was such an amazing gift to receive on my birthday.

I now must recount but one of many stories that documents how Hawai'i always finds me.  Very early this year I was walking downtown.  It was a cold winter day.  I noticed a van in a parking lot.  It was a Kona Brewing Company fan.  It just so happened that my keychain has a miniature longboard with the Kona logo on it.  The "coincidence" was not lost upon me.  I distinctly recall feeling that Hawai'i was indeed calling me.  The truth of the matter is that I meet people connected to Hawaii wherever I go.  It happens effortlessly.  And this is but one example of this.


Today I began a fundraising campaign to raise the money necessary to make this trip in October.  If you are interested in assisting me please visit my project site at the following link:

http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/restoring-the-plant-life-of-moloka-i-island/x/4781838

As I have continued to write this blog I have noticed that I have enjoyed a viewership in other countries including Russia, Germany and France.  If you would like to contribute I welcome your support.  And you are also welcome to leave comments on my blog site.  Thank you for following me!  I plan to continue writing while in Hawai'i.







Monday, September 16, 2013

A Life of Love or Fear?

Monday, September 16, 2013


Another seed I did not even know was planted during my attendance at the Minnesota Men's Conference seems to be coming to bloom already.  This evening, as I was leaving the YMCA, the question came to me: Do I wish to live a life of love or a life of fear?

Whether it's my entrance into my forties, the conference I recently attended, my process work regarding my father or something else that is at the root of my current contemplation I cannot easily say.  What I can say is that it is altogether extremely clear that I must make some significant changes to my life if I am to find the happiness and contentment I yearn for.  I look at my life as it currently exists and see much that does serve me and much that does not.

What is this feeling rising within my chest right now?  I suppose it could be called wistfulness.  As I was finishing my shower this morning and drying off in the bathroom I heard one of the telltale sounds of autumn here in Minnesota.  I heard the distinct sound of Canadian geese honking as they flew nearby.  Later in the day it sounded as if the sky was being torn asunder as planes flew overhead.  The change in the prevailing atmospheric conditions as the seasons change always unleashes interesting change in the way sound travels.  Sound is yet another marker by which we may orient ourselves to the place and time of year we inhabit.

I feel a certain sadness that my summer was not more productive.  And yet perhaps the seeds of discipline and commitment I planted this summer will bloom in great abundance through the winter ahead as well as the summer of next year.  That is one hope I have among many.

As for now I am grateful for open hearted men, the wildness of Canadian geese, the resilience of my body and the amazing and surprising gift I was granted this past weekend.  And I shall share more details about that tomorrow!

The Sweatlodge That Was Not

Monday, September 16, 2013


So here I am now forty years old and quite aware of the preciousness of time.  Various friends have reminded me that age is just a number.  And this is true.  There are many people who pursue all manner of hobbies and accomplish amazing feats of physical and intellectual prowess at an amazing variety of ages. And yet I am also aware of the truth that I will not have an infinite number of tomorrows.  One day the sun will rise and I myself will not rise to greet its warmth and promise.  Time indeed does not wait for anyone.  I am thus growing much more mindful about the projects I pursue; time is precious for all of us.

It can be all too easy to convince ourselves that we will always have tomorrow to accomplish that which we could have begun in earnest today.  I was reminded of the ephemeral quality of the time we have by certain events and non-events at the conference I attended this past week.  One participant learned of the death of a relative on Friday night.  I myself had intended to attend a sweatlodge at some point during the conference.  Yet the first two evenings the lodges took place I felt neither the energy nor that magnetic pull of interest to motivate me to show up for the event.  I reasoned with myself that I would have an opportunity on Saturday night.  And then it rained.  And there was no lodge.  And so I could not attend the Saturday sweatlodge because there was no Saturday lodge.  You never can be sure how your day will unfold.

I thought of my father quite a bit throughout the conference.  This seemed only natural considering I was about to celebrate the watershed birthday of forty.  And yet something unexpected occurred during my days away.  Actually many unexpected events transpired.  I will share more about a very thrilling development in a subsequent post.

Grief and gratitude was one theme of the conference.  A therapist and teacher based in California was one of the speakers present at the conference.  I found the times he shared his own wisdom to be very thought provoking.  Somehow, in both those spaces filled with words as well as the other silent spaces between them, a memory from the time I was a very young man came back to me.  And simultaneous to this memory came another memory corresponding to a much earlier time in my life.  I will share the contents of these memories in a separate post as well.  Events like this conference tend to turbo-charge my creative energy; it is not uncommon for me to emerge from such experiences feeling myself overflowing with thought and feeling.

Yesterday, prior to my departure, I walked to Sturgeon Lake and made an offering with a mug I had not expected to find.  Again I am hinting at a post I will compose soon.  It was a beautiful day with a brisk wind.  I felt myself full of the memories of so many different times and places.  I could feel the deep grief within me that I have carried for so long.  I could also feel the gratitude for this amazing Earth that has nurtured me for so long.  And then the grief would well up again when my thoughts would turn to the numerous ways we are harming this planet and imperiling the quality of life for future generations.

In closing this entry that referenced the sweatlodge that never was I invite you to ponder the following. We are defined not just by what we do but what we do not do.  What we choose and what we do not choose defines that path that we walk each and every day.  It is my desire to walk the remainder of my life journey with a greater mindfulness than what I have already brought to the life I have lived thus far.


Saturday, September 14, 2013

Remembering Your Indestructible Belonging

Saturday, September 14, 2013


So now I can claim to be a wise man of forty (years of age).  Whether that claim can be substantiated is another matter entirely!  It's been a most enjoyable day.  I feel so gratified that I chose to spend this moment of great turning with the men who have been my company and brothers here at the Minnesota Men's Conference.  I could imagine attending again next year.

I enjoyed a beautiful experience of song this evening with candlelight the only source of (visual) illumination.  Outside rain fell and kissed the parched earth.  There is a chill in the air now; summer is fading and making way for the gray cool dampness of autumn.  The turning is here.  The turning is always here.

Below appears another poem.  Immersing myself in the poetic gold of Robert Bly has a way of inspiring poetry in anyone's heart it would seem.


The undulating waters celebrate their inky blackness, their capacity to enchant, their ability to conceal treasures large and small, ancient and ambiguous.
Above shines the moon.  She has decided to cast her light upon the waters.  Light and dark, white and black dances ceaselessly.  
The greatest of mysteries hide in plain sight between the light and dark.  And yet there are no grays.  Where indeed did the mystery of light and shadow come from?
Light and shadow reside in all of our hearts and yet we remain residents of a cloud of unknowing.
The moon glints upon the waters and knows of our confusion.  She loves and weeps.  She lights the night and the night loves her for it.

Dear Luna speaks a wisdom our ancestors suckled upon.  She was the queen.  No lights could compete with her.  She reigns still despite all human contrivance.  Cities may wash out her power yet she remains.  The night worships her.  The night scoffs at the great variety of human lighting.  Her light feeds the fires within the human heart.  Only she and the Sun do this.

She sinks lower in the sky.  Rain clouds come.  Sheets fall from the sky and knit a curtain about the moon.  She announces her departure.  And she delights in the rain.  Countless watery depths salute her escorts.  Ripples dance as I gaze in deep yearning.  She has left me.  My heart unleashes its own watery depths.  There is no cure for my descent.  And she knows this as well.

The rains grow stronger.  I hear the moon's voice.  She counsels me to drink deeply.  Breathe deeply and drink deeply.  I want to set sail upon the waters and sing to her.  She knows the human heart.  I have no boat.

I will knit together my endless flowing yearning and cast myself onto the waters.  My yearning could launch a thousand boats.

Sorrow my most powerful companion.  She is my enchantress.



I feel somehow that I am recalling my indestructible belonging.  I celebrated my own life today by celebrating in the way my own ancestors have done for countless generations.  I enjoyed the gift of human song in a room filled with candlelight and human warmth.  This is what we all did millennia ago.  It is humanity at its most fundamental.  This night is this:

This is exaltation.
This is kindness.
This is breath.
This is sustenance.
This is contentment.
This is love.

This IS.

Friday, September 13, 2013

A New Decade

Friday, September 13, 2013


In a few hours I'll cross the threshold and leave behind my thirties.  I'll be forty years old tomorrow.  It's a strange feeling.

Today was one of those glorious September days in which you can easily notice the rapid departure of the sun from its summer prominence.  Gone are the mornings of early light and late evenings.  Gone is the warmth of such strength that the power of winter is but a distant memory.  We are hurtling towards the dark season of the year.

All was sharpness today.  The air was sharp.  The outline of trees was sharp.  The contours of the sun's light spilling through countless leaves was also sharp.  My awareness of the gift of time was sharp.  My awareness of the many gifts I have been given through the familial blood I carry is sharp.  I have much to offer.  And I wish to continue offering much of my own compassion to my own self so that my own journey forward can continue.

Here is a short poem for today:


The moon waxes still further.
Its light glistens over the lake's soft undulations.
Its illumination is a whisper, an invitation to return
to awareness of my deepest origin
within the Cosmos that is all around me.

I shall awaken tomorrow morning in a new age.
And I ask myself now what is youth and what is old age?
What is maturity?
And who decides?
The youthful man still resides in me.
Elderhood awaits me in the future.
For now I live in the prime of my life
and steadily each day I am healing more and more.

Birth and death are never ending.


The Fading of Summer


Thursday, September 12, 2013


Summer is fading away.  On Thursday morning I walked out to the large lake near to Camp Miller.  Later in the day I wrote the following poem:


Ghosts of summer I spied this morning upon the lake.
In the damp, cool morning with a blustery wind whispering of inevitable change my eyes did see the failure of form, the beginning of the end, the dissolution that is
Always and everywhere unfolding.

My heart quickened at first as I recognized the ancient wheel turning once more.
Summer fading and autumn arriving, sadness built a castle within my chest.
I felt the telltale wistful yearning of a season of brightness now passing away…
A season of brightness, of greenness, of warmth in which the warrior came alive to claim his keep.

Yearning and more yearning pulsed within my blood.  I could feel my flesh and bones pining for a period of calm and serenity that consumes a winter weary man who has known one too many snowstorms in an unrelenting season.  How could summer be leaving me already?  So many ghosts were dancing above the lake’s waters.  It was a dance of oblivion.

Grief has known such a deep place in me.  My summer felt like a winter.  How can I prepare for the season of solitude, of darkness, of smiling upon the gift of fire when I was so consumed in this now passing season that I could scarcely worship the sun?

You, grief, greeter of ghosts, one who holds so many keys to so many hearts,
What would you ask of me now?
How can I pour myself out in this time, how can I be made truly as empty as I feel such that one day, when the sun’s power grows ascendant again, I shall be renewed and vibrant, like those first green leaves of spring?

You, grief, I have known you quite well.  In my awakening I see your longstanding presence.  I ask not that your wisdom ever leave me but that you teach me to dance and sing and walk with you such that all around me appears the amazing depth of luminous creation.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

The Softness of Pink Light on Pine Trees

Wednesday, September 11, 2013


So it turns out that Camp Miller (where the Minnesota Men's Conference is taking place) does in fact have wireless Internet access.  So I will be writing each day and posting here.

Our opening session last night was quite nice.  We gathered for a ritual near sunset.  As I stood amidst a circle of many men I looked about and noticed the pink light of dusk subtly warming pine trees around me.  There was something so soft, so transcendent, so soothing about that light that I stood with my attention riveted to the beauty of the light.  Witnessing this beauty at the end of the day reminded me of the beauty of my own eyesight.  I thought of the incredible beauty of our world.  I thought of the countless sunrises and sunsets I have enjoyed in many parts of the world.  I recalled how many opportunities I have enjoyed.  It was an incredibly wonderful moment.  And the warmth I felt within unfolded simply because I was enjoying a pink hue.

Our time today was very enjoyable though most certainly interspersed with difficult moments.  One of the presenters mentioned another name I am familiar with.  Her name is Chellis Glendinning.  She has written some extensive critiques on Western civilization, technology and globalization.  Next to Jerry Mander she is one of my favorite writer-thinkers.

What I find amazing when I attend conferences like the one I am at now is the depth of pain, grief, anger and alienation that so many people feel.  Certainly there are our own individual experiences of pain and trauma that are intricately intertwined within our family histories.  But then there is the much larger narrative of human history on Earth as a whole.  For much of human history we lived in a much more intimate way with the planet.  Then came the Industrial Revolution and our growing sense of separation from that matrix of life upon which we depend (this wondrous world called Earth) accelerated even more.  Somehow we began to see the natural world as something "out there" that humanity is separate from.  And once the dissociation became endemic we found ourselves collectively able to do things to the planet we previously never would have been capable of doing.

The work of unraveling and peeling back away from this course we have been treading for many generations is an immense one.  But I do not think the direction the industrialized "First World" is moving has a long term future.  Continued development and supposed taming of the wildness of nature (to "make way" for people) relies upon a set of assumptions that themselves are fundamentally antithetical to human health and planetary health.  At a later time I will perhaps write more extensively about this broad issue.

I will close tonight by citing just one issue as an example of how our disassociated relationship with the world tangibly manifests.  Consider what you eat.  How much do you know about what you eat?  How much do you know about the supplies of the food you eat?  How much do you know about how the animals are treated?  How are the fruits and vegetables you eat cultivated?  Do you know much about the conditions the workers toil in who harvest your foodstuffs?  Are you a locavore (do you eat a diet consisting of foodstuffs grown in close proximity to where you live)?  And on and on go such questions.  I myself am weary of knowing so little.  I want to learn much more.

As for tonight I will allow my eyes to close and recall the beauty of soft pink light on majestic pine trees.




Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Whoo Hoo!

Tuesday, September 10, 2013


My departure to the Minnesota Men's Conference is now just hours away.  And I am so excited to be traveling to a rural area to get away for a while.  I am also excited to attend an event where I hope to gain some renewed insight into how I can successfully address my current challenges and needs.  Despite all the support I am manifesting to help me through this major time of change I am still finding myself feeling quite overwhelmed on occasion.

Yesterday I went to see my primary care physician.  I was amazed that my blood pressure was the lowest it has been in quite some time.  Last month, during a visit to the Emergency Room, it was the highest ever recorded.  My health is most definitely improving.  I just need to continue on the course I am on.

One of the featured presenters at the Men's Conference is Francis Weller.  Weller is a psychotherapist and writer who specializes in the issue of grief.  What follows is taken directly from the Minnesota Men's Conference:

Francis Weller, MFT, is a psychotherapist, writer and soul activist. He is a master of synthesizing diverse streams of thought from psychology, anthropology, mythology, alchemy, indigenous cultures and poetic traditions. Author of Entering the Healing Ground: Grief, Ritual and the Soul of the World, he has introduced the healing work of ritual to thousands of people. The core of his work is creating pathways to reclaiming our indigenous soul, what psychologist Carl Jung called the “unforgotten wisdom” that resides in the heart of the psyche. To further this work, he founded and directs WisdomBridge, an organization that offers educational programs that seek to integrate the wisdom from traditional cultures with the insights and knowledge gathered from western cultures.

Given the extensive work I have done to reclaim my own 'indigenous soul' I feel it will be energizing and exciting to speak with him.  I feel I am standing on that threshold moment with the next stage of my own journey now before me; meeting people with similar minds and hearts will prove very critical to the next steps that I take.

I intend to write each day during my time away.  If there is Internet access I will post my daily writing to my blog.  If not you will be able to find my writings this coming Sunday or Monday.

Monday, September 9, 2013

An Inability to Feel and Be With Pain


Monday, September 9, 2013


Perhaps I will begin to sound redundant but I am going to focus yet again today on the theme of masculinity and manhood.  It’s fitting in a sense that I do so considering I am preparing to depart tomorrow for the 29th annual Minnesota Men’s Conference.  I am hoping to make some good connections and find some respite from what lately feels like a constant barrage of challenges.  I am feeling quite sad today and I feel very strongly that I have good reason to feel this way.

I have decided to end my participation in a local chorus I originally joined in January of this year.  My decision was not an easy one.  I am the type of person who firmly believes in keeping commitments I have made once I have made them.  My overarching concern that has prompted my departure from this organization is the lack of healthy leadership I see reflected in numerous unfortunate experiences I have had in the short time I was a member of the organization.  An email I received last night from the membership vice president gave me that final necessary push to choose as I have.  I do not see many people in the organization who offer a quality I find so vital.  That quality is compassion.  And I see my experience in this organization as symptomatic of a larger issue here in America.  Men as a whole do not have very good skills to be present to their own pain or that of others. 

With all the discourse regarding budget deficits at local, state and the federal government level one can hear in recent years you might think such discourse is reflective of a healthy debate regarding how we allocate resources to serve the basic needs of society.  And while some of the discourse I have seen does indeed seem to show healthy reflection and discernment all too often I can simultaneously find much that does not.  And then there is the related matter of what other pressing issues are not receiving sufficient attention whatsoever.  Beyond fiscal deficits we are beset by a major compassion deficit.  And it is this compassion deficit, which is inextricably linked to this endemic inability of men to be present to the pain and suffering they feel and that they witness in others.

I actually took a course on compassion while a student of Naropa University in Oakland, California.  To my knowledge there are not many institutions of higher education that would offer such a course.  I met some significant mentors of my life while attending Naropa University.  One of those is Matthew Fox.  Fox has known the journey of the outcast as a consequence of his steadfast determination to bring to life a more holistic and liberating spirituality known as creation spirituality.  Creation spirituality acknowledges the power and generative potential of our darkest human moments both personal and collective.  There is wisdom to be found in welcoming those most painful and raw emotions.  There is healing to be found in admitting to our deepest feelings of alienation and isolation.  A life lived without a healthy relationship to the universal experience of suffering is a stunted life.

Stunted is indeed an apt word to describe how I experience the prevailing American conception of masculinity.  It is a distorted masculinity that offers little open space for qualities all too often rendered as the sole province of the feminine.  And compassion is certainly high on the list of qualities whose cultivation I believe should be a priority in any human life.  A life devoid of compassion is a life whose potential fullness is never realized.

I feel an incredible amount of grief that my search for authentic men and community continues to be so arduous and dissatisfying.  But at least I am searching.  And at least I will not give up on my search.  I may be disappointed many a time but the surest way to never experience that which you desire is to never try at all.

On a related note I must comment on the irony I sense in the confluence of events taking place this week.  Our Congress is scheduled to be back in session today.  They will be confronted with the President’s request for authorization to respond to the ongoing conflict in Syria.  This morning, as I was preparing to journey to see my therapist, I stopped downtown.  I saw a sign encouraging people to give blood in honor of the events of September 11, 2001.  I am not opposed to giving blood to helping those in need.  Yet I think we could honor the tragic events of that day of twelve years ago by not allowing our government to make yet another tragic mistake by choosing a policy response in Syria that will ultimately produce some very grave consequences.  Answering the aggression within Syria with a military response  (when to my knowledge Syria has made no threatening overtures towards the United States) does not strike me as fruitful.  Instead I sense it is a sure way to find our nation once again on a road to oblivion.

I am grateful not only that I will be attending the Minnesota Men’s Conference but that I will be away starting tomorrow.  I do not have the stomach to hear the endless acknowledgments of September 11th.  I believe there is a more peaceful way so many of us could live.  And I am committed to finding it.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Learning to See What We Have in Common

Sunday, September 8, 2013


I suppose you could say I am up to my eyeballs in my exploration of different means to restore my health.  I am most definitely "out of the woods" now.  My physical therapy appointments have concluded.  Even my acupuncture appointments are now set for only once a week.  Unlike other times in my life, however, I will not slack off now.  My situation has now finally begun to stabilize.  To cease my rigorous discipline of deep self-care now would be a virtual invitation to a relapse of my previous persistent feelings of overwhelm.

Last month I enrolled in some classes through an organization called Pathways Health Crisis Resource Center.  One of the classes I enrolled in is a seven week course focused on the theme of forgiveness.  I realize I have some work to do in regards to this topic.  I feel the need to forgive myself.  And I also feel the need to continue to breathe deeply whenever I feel frustration arise regarding my disappointment in my father and our most recent interaction.  I am standing firm in my decision regarding my relationship with him.  But that does not mean it is an easy choice.  I have felt the weight of grief and sadness these last several days.

Our first assignment in my forgiveness class is to find compassion for ourselves and others by heightening awareness of that which all human beings have in common.  I am repeating some of the instructions contained below.  If you are interested to learn more about the course the name of the instructor is Laura Davida Preves.

With your attention focused on the other person, tell yourself:

  • This person is seeking happiness in life just as I am.
  • This person is trying to avoid suffering in life just as I am.
  • This person has known sadness, loneliness and despair just as I have.
  • This person is seeking to fulfill needs just as I am.
  • This person is learning about life just as I am.

I find this activity to be especially timely to do right now.  I recognize that a primary issue I have with my father involves the different approaches we take to suffering.  Whereas my father's tendency is to avoid suffering to such an extent that it strikes me as pathologically unhealthy my tendency (and I know sometimes it becomes unhealthy) is to focus on the negative a bit too much.  Health requires balance.  Wallowing in pain is not healthy.  Avoiding all pain is also not healthy.  The middle road in which we acknowledge the darkness and unavoidable suffering in life yet enjoy, celebrate and focus first and foremost on all that is good is the ideal path to take.  And we are all on a journey of seeking to find such harmony.

I attended the Metropolitan Community Church again this morning.  I enjoyed the service.  And yet I see that one of my primary reservations about becoming an active member of the congregation is my own lack of certainty about what I believe about the figure of Jesus Christ.  I do not know that I believe he actually ever existed.  I would like to believe he did.  I grew up being taught that he once lived and walked the Earth.  Given the issues I am currently wrestling with in my life it seems relatively unimportant whether I believe in the historical existence of Jesus or not.  What I believe is more critical is to focus on the fundamental spark of beauty, goodness and inherent dignity that each human being possesses and reflects.  I believe we are all capable of amazing generosity, kindness and compassion.  Within the human heart is an immense power for love.  I would rather focus on that than our simultaneous capacity for self-destruction.

I am excited by my upcoming time away at the 29th Annual Minnesota Men's Conference.  The gift of this experience could not come at a better time.  I believe it will be a great way to celebrate turning forty years old.  I hope it will provide me a much needed "shot in the arm" to help me address the deficit of healthy masculine energy in my life.  (Though I plan to write each day while there I might not be able to post my writings to my blog until I return on Sunday, September 15th)

I occasionally have the impression that I have deluded myself (to some degree) for a long time regarding the depth of the hunger I have for healthy male energy in my life.  When I sit still, close my eyes, breathe and allow myself to feel into that space within me where the hunger rumbles it feels a bit overwhelming.  The feeling I have is not unlike what you might feel upon walking into a room full of dust, debris and chaos that is so dark you can barely make out the forms of anything sitting within the space.  Then, as light slowly fills the room, the contours of what could not be seen become increasingly visible.  And as my surroundings become more visible my own sadness grows in equal measure.  It's as if I am now awakening to the depth of that hunger I have been carrying for so long.

Despite the somberness of spirit I am conveying in my writing today I nonetheless do feel increasingly confident that I am moving in a good direction.  It's simply going to be a process that requires an intensive amount of time and commitment.
 







Saturday, September 7, 2013

A Macro View

Saturday, September 7, 2013


Today I am going to switch to a more "elevated" perspective to draw attention to a world issue that greatly concerns me.  At first it might not seem to have relevance to my own personal journey I am documenting here in this blog.  But I will weave the threads together later in my writing.

I am deeply concerned about the civil war in Syria and what I see is yet another inevitable march to involvement by the United States that could ultimately unleash consequences as unfortunate as what have been experienced in Afghanistan and Iraq.  I am no seasoned debater but I do have a good capacity for listening and dispassionate analysis. 

While attending the Monterey Institute of International Studies between 2009 and 2011 I was required to take a course in global politics to better understand the world in which we live and the foundation for the current day system of international law.  One of the primary questions we addressed early in the course was the concept of the nation state and its capacity to meet the needs of its own citizens.  The present day system of nation states derives its foundation in large measure from the Treaty of Westphalia.  This treaty serves as a primary foundation for the system of international law that would develop in successive centuries.  The Treaty of Westphalia helped give rise to the related concept of national sovereignty.

War as a phenomenon of human interaction has changed significantly over the last century.  Whereas nation states were previously a common initiator of aggression it has become increasingly true that many conflicts of the most recent decades involve what are called non-state actors.  Non-state actors may include terrorist organizations and militia who do not answer to the government of a nation state.  I would even wager that powerful corporations could be accurately considered non-state actors.  Given the incredible power that a small number of corporations exert on life in the West it would be a mistake to underestimate their power.  The recent conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan are excellent examples of conflicts in which non-state actors have played a significant role.  And now here we are again as we witness the appalling events in Syria.

One argument frequently appearing in the media is a moral argument.  The appalling use of chemical weapons against his own citizenry is being used as justification to launch a strike against Syria's Assad.  I completely agree that it is morally wrong to use chemical weapons against your own citizenry.  We have international law that speaks directly to the issue of chemical weapons (Chemical Weapons Convention).  When a state not only fails to meet the basic needs of its own citizenry but actively employs measures to oppress, injure or kill its people there is indeed a serious problem.

Despite all the ink being spilled about Syria I find it difficult to take an informed position on the debate of a United States strike against Syria because (as I believe happened before in the case of Iraq and Afghanistan) the debate is being focused around certain narratives and issues to the unfortunate exclusion or minimization of others.  I find this most unfortunate.  I don't believe Assad should be allowed to harm his own people.  And I do find the argument that doing nothing could send an unfortunate message to other repressive regimes around the world that harming your own people is acceptable has some merit.  But here is one of my primary concerns.  What about all the suffering going on in the United States?  

Our nation and our quality of life was greatly harmed by the economic crisis that began in 2008.  Millions of Americans lost their jobs.  The economy is supposedly recovering but it will likely look very little like it did before 2008.  And one reason our economy is hobbled and our citizenry angry and anxious is the reality that we seem more able to find money for conflicts in foreign states than we are to feed children who are hungry within our own borders.  When will this stop?

What advantage is there to following the Westphalian concept of the primacy of the nation state when a nation fails to protect and support the long term health and needs of its own citizens?  Shouldn't the needs of a nation's own citizenry come before those of a foreign state?  If not, what significant advantage is there to citizenship within any state?

Let me be clear that I am not arguing for a new and permissive isolationism.  I do agree that something should be done regarding leaders who harm their own people.  I am also not so naive as to believe there is some simple solution to the present issue in Syria.  It is furthermore also true that we must have an effective foreign policy since a nation's capacity to meet the needs of its own citizens is best served through a combination of domestic and foreign policies.  We need to know something about the people who live beyond our borders.  And I personally believe we ought to cultivate a healthy curiosity about and relationship with the world beyond our borders.  A life devoid of curiosity is a limited one indeed.

I believe we as a nation have far too many pressing issues at home to address.  We have one of the most ineffectual and ridiculous Congresses in recent memory.  We have a party (the GOP) so committed to scorched earth governance tactics that some members of said party are willing to shut down the federal government as a way to harm the President's ability to successfully pursue his stated agenda as well as pander to their own misguided base.  I ask you this question: How is it healthy to live in a nation that always can find money for foreign war and conflict but cannot seem to function well enough to meet its own citizens' most basic needs?

And so what does all this have to do with PTSD?  There are a few connections to be made clear.  One unfortunate reality is the system of care focused specifically on the needs of veterans (who often have PTSD) is already severely strained.  For example, in the last several years non-combat related suicide has become a serious issue in the Army.  And then there is the grotesquely sad reality of the many veterans who come back alive from Iraq and Afghanistan but are so severely wounded that they will never again be able to make a substantial contribution to society.  If the United States launches any sort of military action in Syria we risk becoming involved in a conflict (short term) and possibly entrenched in a complex situation (long term) that could ultimately produce a whole new generation of conflict wounded people.  The need for short and long term treatment for those afflicted by PTSD would grow larger than it already is.  Have the costs of these potential outcomes been assessed with any degree of sobriety and seriousness?

Secondly there is the broader reality that resources spent abroad cannot be spent at home.  There are millions of Americans who live daily with PTSD.  As any rudimentary research on PTSD will show the condition can develop in response to a number of events other than the chaos and horror one expects to witness in armed conflict.  The demographics of our nation are moving in the direction of massive change.  With the Baby Boomer generation set to begin retiring in massive numbers in the next ten to fifteen years we will witness new extraordinary demands placed upon our already less than stellar health care system.  How can such domestic demands be realistically met if the United States yet again involves itself in a conflict outside our borders where there is no clearly wise strategy but ample opportunity for error, unfortunate escalation and ultimate disastrous consequences?  Our politicians would be wise to consider the policy issue of unintended consequences as they debate the issue of Syria.  And they would be very wise to consider the long term consequences.

I myself would like to live in a nation where the needs of its own citizenry take greater precedence than they appear to at present.  We have many people who serve within local, state and federal government positions who would take a similar stance.  Such people are loyal and reliable American citizens who find what is happening in Syria horrible but are also acutely aware of the pressing need we have to take care of our own.

And yet the drums of war are vibrating yet again.  I shudder to think what Pandora's box may open if the United States launches a strike within Syria.  From what I can see the benefits are minimal and the risks very large.


Later in the evening....

I dug up a short paper I wrote for a class I took at the Monterey Institute of International Studies.  What follows below makes my point well I do believe.  I wrote this in the autumn of 2009.


The Cost of a Myth
A Post-Modern Perspective on American Culture and War
Are you worth more dead than alive?  Well publicized events of America's cultural and political life might lead a person to believe our mainstream culture actually prizes life over death.  Consider the wrangling over abortion provisions that recently slowed progress on the House of Representatives' efforts to create a landmark health care overhaul bill.  Many Americans have very strong feelings on abortion.  Indeed, some people are so pro-life they destroy life as an expression of their respect for it.  A man responsible for the murder of a Wichita, Kansas abortion doctor recently expressed no remorse for his actions.  He cited the imminent danger to unborn lives as justification for the murder.  Taking life to preserve life apparently did not seem to be a contradiction in his own mental calculus.
Yet you can also learn much about a person, people or nation by what is not often openly shared.  America, all appearances to the contrary, espouses a culture of death.  Murder makes money.  Peace does not.  In his book War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning, Chris Hedges explores the statecraft of war.  He asserts all participants in the modern practice of war are defiled, regardless of position or intent.  Hedges worked as a war correspondent for many years and thus witnessed the cold cruelty that leads human beings to murder both adults and children as well as military enemies and civilians.  Hedges argues that the state legitimizes and subsequently prosecutes war (often quite easily with a large degree of impunity) by employing a number of techniques including destruction of the evidence of its inevitable horror, marginalizing dissident voices and revising history itself.  The common theme contained in these strategies is control of information.  The dead "become pieces of performance art" for use as state propaganda.
Any well educated statesman with a post modern perspective will affirm that power and knowledge are indeed intimately intertwined.  To gain and maintain the former you must know how to manage and cultivate the latter.  When information harmful to a reputation might possibly emerge, controlling knowledge is a paramount strategy.  The United States military is certainly aware of the power of knowledge.  To be otherwise would risk the American public's tolerance of war and its inevitable destruction.  Our culture's glorification of war necessarily requires a distorted understanding of what war is, and what it does to all it consumes.
Consider the eight year long conflict in Afghanistan.  Let us put aside all questions as to what the United States' motivations are for being there and whether the mission itself is a viable one.  Let us concentrate solely on the consequences.  Have you ever noticed how frequently American military deaths are repeated in media reports, and how comparatively infrequent are reports of the greater number of personnel seriously injured?  What ultimately becomes of these people and their profoundly altered futures?  Indeed, if our nation possesses such reverence for life, where is the widespread interest in the current lives of these personnel who survive?  If we care so much for life, where is our interest in these individuals' futures?
The paucity of data on the war injured can be appreciated by the name of one site that offers it: www.unknownnews.net.  According to the site, the number of troops seriously injured compared to the number killed is three and seven times greater for theaters in Afghanistan and Iraq respectively.  Data from more well known sources is equally sobering.  A recent New York Times article provided an estimate that the costs of sending additional American troops to Afghanistan averages to $1,000,000.00 per soldier per annum.  The high cost is due in part to transportation and equipment costs for each soldier.  Regardless of what choice President Obama ultimately makes regarding the American presence in Afghanistan, the costs we have already incurred, and will continue to incur, are enormous. 

There is a saying that ignorance is bliss.  But we are ignorant of what our military personnel endure at our own peril.  We are truly burdened by this ignorance.  Long after the Afghanistan question is somehow answered, we here in America will be confronting the consequences.  Consider the many soldiers afflicted with PTSD.  But there is a still darker story, and this one comes from Iraq.  Consider the horror of depleted uranium.
The Depleted Uranium Citizens' Network of the Military Toxics Project provides data on the exposure of American military personnel to depleted uranium during the Gulf War of 1990-91.  The Gulf War was the first major conflict to feature the use of depleted uranium (DU) in weaponry.  The Army Environmental Policy Institute, in response to a Congressional requirement, generated a technical report on the environmental consequences of DU use.  The Depleted Uranium Citizens' Network reviewed the report and determined that "its conclusions are inconsistent with its creditable scientific statements."  The Network further states that "DU is a deadly substance from which soldiers, the public and the environment must be protected beforehand, because no technology can afterwards adequately mitigate its effects."  DU weapons later became available on the world market.  Does the glory of war include radiation poisoning?  America unleashed the pain of radiation related illness by bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki in World War II.  How can we tolerate the Department of Defense allowing our military personnel to be exposed to radioactive material?
Yet the horror widens still more.  For truly stomach churning material, read an article recently published by Justin O'Connell entitled "Copenhagen Treaty: Premises and Motivations."  The United States Department of Defense is recognized therein as "the largest polluter in the world, producing more hazardous wastes than the five largest US chemical companies together."  How can the largest polluter of the world simultaneously successfully provide for the security of a nation?  Have you heard of a greater contradiction?
A truly sustainable state is one that ensures the security of its own people.  And yet a sustainable state will also wisely recognize the need to provide a certain baseline of care and security for its military and security forces that ensure its own existence.  And on that second measure, the United States has a long distance to go.