Friday, July 18, 2014
Events like the loss of two Malaysian Airlines planes full of people in the last four months have a way of sharpening your awareness about the preciousness of the time we have in our lives. We take risks (sometimes without being aware that we are doing so) each and every day. But what happens when we no longer take risks? I think we begin to die a little bit inside.
One of the realities I am often reminded of when I hear stories such as airline disasters is the truth of our interconnectedness. It has been reported that some high profile individuals within the field of AIDS research were on the Malaysian Airlines flight that went down in the Ukraine. The former President of the International AIDS Society, Joep Lange, was killed in the plane crash. More details can be found in this article in the Huffington Post. Who would have imagined that a person of such skill would die on a plane on a journey from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur as the plane flew over the Ukraine? And Lange was not alone. No, another article notes that approximately one hundred people on the plane were bound for an AIDS conference in Melbourne. This is an extraordinary loss of talent, dedication and passion...not unlike the losses that were incurred day in and day out as the AIDS epidemic began scorching the world in the 1980s. Truth is often stranger than fiction.
It's the seeming fragility of life that I often ponder in the wake of disasters such as these. And it's this fragility, this all-too-tenuous quality, that has an important bearing on why I am estranged from my own paternal family of origin. When my father emerged from the hospital after recovering from the attempt made on his own life he didn't change...at least not that I could see. He remained very much the man he was before he nearly died a violent death. Nearly meeting an untimely death at the age of forty didn't shake him up enough (apparently) for him to take a step back, evaluate his life and make some changes. Years after that time of chaos and pain he still showed the same capacity for avoidance, inappropriate anger and an inability to be very present. If nearly dying doesn't inspire quiet reflection and assessment of your own life I do not know what will. I came to resent him for his aversion to self-examination. Like many men in this American culture I do not observe in him much ability to appreciate the harmful consequences of his actions. It's no wonder he voted for George W. Bush as President. I think Bush is another example of a man incapable of understanding the consequences of his behavior.
"Only the day dawns to which we are awake" - I heard this phrase yesterday. It was attributed to Thoreau. And it especially struck me because I feel as if I was asleep for much of my own life. Now I am finally not. And I wish to go out and really see the world in a way I have not before.
I must admit to feeling that it has been a difficult journey of healing these last many months. The main difficulty I have is becoming familiar with who I am (and can be) now that I am no longer being affected by what my shamanic practitioner last November described as soul loss. When soul loss occurs very early in a person's life history, as it apparently did with mine, it seems quite possible that adjusting to life after the soul loss has been attended to can itself prove to be quite a process.
In the last few months in particular I have found myself reflecting back on countless memories I have from earlier in my life history. And as I have allowed these memories to float through my consciousness here in the present I have found myself asking myself the same question again and again: 'Was I fully present at that time?'
Was I fully present....
During those long drives between Louisiana and Arkansas the last summer that my grandmother was alive? No.
The time I visited Mato Tipila in Wyoming in 1997? No.
When I visited my mother's family in Germany in 2002? No.
When I began studying under the direction of Pamela Colorado in 2003? No.
And so it goes. I have so many memories...and what so many of them have in common is the reality, which I am appreciating now, that I wasn't fully present to what I was perceiving with my conscious awareness. My consciousness, which one can perceive behind the eyes (our windows on the world), wasn't fully available. I suppose you could say my capacity for full, active present awareness had been splintered by the trauma I had experienced.
Doing true grieving has required me to acknowledge the truth of what I am (and have been) feeling. I have felt the shock of realizing I wasn't very present for much of my earlier life history. I thought I had been present. I had even told myself I had been present...but this wasn't really true. I was somewhat present. And that is an important distinction.
Only the day dawns to which we are awake. I awoke before sunrise this morning to meet with my personal trainer. I remember the light filling the dawn sky. Do you remember the sky from this morning?
Events like the loss of two Malaysian Airlines planes full of people in the last four months have a way of sharpening your awareness about the preciousness of the time we have in our lives. We take risks (sometimes without being aware that we are doing so) each and every day. But what happens when we no longer take risks? I think we begin to die a little bit inside.
One of the realities I am often reminded of when I hear stories such as airline disasters is the truth of our interconnectedness. It has been reported that some high profile individuals within the field of AIDS research were on the Malaysian Airlines flight that went down in the Ukraine. The former President of the International AIDS Society, Joep Lange, was killed in the plane crash. More details can be found in this article in the Huffington Post. Who would have imagined that a person of such skill would die on a plane on a journey from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur as the plane flew over the Ukraine? And Lange was not alone. No, another article notes that approximately one hundred people on the plane were bound for an AIDS conference in Melbourne. This is an extraordinary loss of talent, dedication and passion...not unlike the losses that were incurred day in and day out as the AIDS epidemic began scorching the world in the 1980s. Truth is often stranger than fiction.
It's the seeming fragility of life that I often ponder in the wake of disasters such as these. And it's this fragility, this all-too-tenuous quality, that has an important bearing on why I am estranged from my own paternal family of origin. When my father emerged from the hospital after recovering from the attempt made on his own life he didn't change...at least not that I could see. He remained very much the man he was before he nearly died a violent death. Nearly meeting an untimely death at the age of forty didn't shake him up enough (apparently) for him to take a step back, evaluate his life and make some changes. Years after that time of chaos and pain he still showed the same capacity for avoidance, inappropriate anger and an inability to be very present. If nearly dying doesn't inspire quiet reflection and assessment of your own life I do not know what will. I came to resent him for his aversion to self-examination. Like many men in this American culture I do not observe in him much ability to appreciate the harmful consequences of his actions. It's no wonder he voted for George W. Bush as President. I think Bush is another example of a man incapable of understanding the consequences of his behavior.
"Only the day dawns to which we are awake" - I heard this phrase yesterday. It was attributed to Thoreau. And it especially struck me because I feel as if I was asleep for much of my own life. Now I am finally not. And I wish to go out and really see the world in a way I have not before.
I must admit to feeling that it has been a difficult journey of healing these last many months. The main difficulty I have is becoming familiar with who I am (and can be) now that I am no longer being affected by what my shamanic practitioner last November described as soul loss. When soul loss occurs very early in a person's life history, as it apparently did with mine, it seems quite possible that adjusting to life after the soul loss has been attended to can itself prove to be quite a process.
In the last few months in particular I have found myself reflecting back on countless memories I have from earlier in my life history. And as I have allowed these memories to float through my consciousness here in the present I have found myself asking myself the same question again and again: 'Was I fully present at that time?'
Was I fully present....
During those long drives between Louisiana and Arkansas the last summer that my grandmother was alive? No.
The time I visited Mato Tipila in Wyoming in 1997? No.
When I visited my mother's family in Germany in 2002? No.
When I began studying under the direction of Pamela Colorado in 2003? No.
And so it goes. I have so many memories...and what so many of them have in common is the reality, which I am appreciating now, that I wasn't fully present to what I was perceiving with my conscious awareness. My consciousness, which one can perceive behind the eyes (our windows on the world), wasn't fully available. I suppose you could say my capacity for full, active present awareness had been splintered by the trauma I had experienced.
Doing true grieving has required me to acknowledge the truth of what I am (and have been) feeling. I have felt the shock of realizing I wasn't very present for much of my earlier life history. I thought I had been present. I had even told myself I had been present...but this wasn't really true. I was somewhat present. And that is an important distinction.
Only the day dawns to which we are awake. I awoke before sunrise this morning to meet with my personal trainer. I remember the light filling the dawn sky. Do you remember the sky from this morning?
No comments:
Post a Comment
I invite you to accompany me as I document my own journey of healing. My blog is designed to offer inspiration and solace to others. If you find it of value I welcome you to share it with others. Aloha!