Please Hold My Hand

Thursday, April 28, 2016


Is dying completely alone something you would dread to have happen to you? I suspect many people would rank such an experience very high on their list of Things I Never Want To Go Through.

I had a really good session with my therapist on Tuesday. We have transitioned to a new format; I meet with him once a week for approximately two hours. I find I am enjoying this new format; I do not feel rushed now when I sit down and do my work. I reference this issue of dying alone because I focused on this particular topic while meeting with him on Tuesday.

We did some visualization work that allowed me to create a place I can imagine myself in each night when I am falling asleep. While co-creating this imaginal realm my therapist held my hand. It's just one of many aspects of his particular approach to working with clients that I enjoy. We all need the beauty of human touch.

While co-creating a beautiful scene I can slip into each night I told myself to remember his touch should it ever happen that I find myself dying alone. I feel that such a fate would be particularly difficult for me given how often I felt (and was) alone when I was a kid. Children should not be left unattended for long periods of time. I experienced such aloneness too often. Part of the grief I carried for so long developed in response to this sense of isolation.

I am reminded of one piece of beauty amidst the tragedy of the 1972 Andean airplane crash I wrote about earlier this week. Nando Parrado lost his mother and sister in that disaster. Nando was with his sister as she passed away. Amidst the life threatening circumstances that surrounded him in the remote Andes he was at least able to be present to his sister as she died. She had someone to hold her as she made that transition that we all will make one day.

I yearn for authentic human presence.

......

I generally feel fairly good these days. When I begin to feel I am perhaps pushing myself too hard I remind myself that it still has not been a full calendar year of time since I completely titrated off the SSRI that I took for approximately two years. Change takes time. And long lasting, deep change most definitely takes time.

I have recently been appreciating that this very blog represents a profound transformation in who I am. As I look back I see that my personal and professional values have significantly changed. I see that one of my implicit intentions in the journey I have documented here was to help educate others. If my blog has inspired or educated just one person then I can easily see it as a success. It is clear to me now that I want to educate people as part of my future work.

The Broken Village: The Five Year Old American Psyche

Wednesday, April 27, 2016


I have recently been reading a book by Francis Weller. The book is titled The Wild Edge of Sorrow. Weller is a psychotherapist who lives in California. I met Weller a few years ago at an annual event of the Minnesota Men's Conference. Chapter Three, entitled The Five Gates of Grief, recounts the following story:

"While I was in Malidoma's village, I met a young woman, about seventeen years old, with an extensive burn scar across her face. This did not seem to make her self-conscious; quite the contrary, she was ebullient, happy and outgoing. One day I asked Malidoma about the scar. He said, 'It was terrible. Her mother threw boiling water on her in a fit of rage.' I asked what happened after that. He said, 'The village responded immediately and let this young girl know that what happened had nothing to do with her, that her mother was wrong to do this, and that she was loved and cherished by the people.'

At that point I understood something critical about belonging and shame. Many of us have had experiences of violation and injury, not unlike this young woman. The difference between her experience and ours is that she had a village that immediately responded and dissipated the pain of a shameful act. In other words, what occurred to her remained superficial; it did not penetrate beyond the skin and become a part of her story (my emphasis). She carries a scar, but her soul is intact. Her village could see her value and helped her to remember her essence.

Without a village to reflect back to us that we are valued, these ruptures are interpreted in silence, in a vacuum, and the conclusion we often come to is 'I must have deserved this treatment' or 'I was somehow responsible for this.'"

I have been reflecting on the value of a village in my own life. I have been fortunate to never experience boiling water scarring my face. But I have experienced severe injury nonetheless. I experienced psychic injury due to what I have recounted elsewhere here in my blog. I have described such psychic injury using the words of the field of mental health, namely trauma. The "village" I had access to as a child was not all that functional. After my father was nearly murdered I internalized a lot of shame. Though I did not realize it I subconsciously thought that others in my neighborhood thought of me as "that kid whose father made such poor choices that he couldn't even keep himself alive." I thought of myself in that way. I didn't have a healthy village of my own to mirror back to me my own value.

Healing your own individual life can be quite a journey. I know the experience of this. Healing an entire community or nation is an even greater endeavor. I believe Weller touches upon some immense wisdom in his book about grief. We need a healthy 'village' to help create healthy adults. When such a community is lacking the long-term consequences can be extremely devastating.

...

I have been considering the village metaphor in a different way as well. I have thought about the relevance of this village metaphor to the current socio-political reality here in the United States. When I spend the smallest bit of time bearing witness to news from the unfolding 2016 presidential race I seriously want to throw up. I think much of America has lost its collective mind. I interpret the appeal so many find in Donald Trump as evidence of a collective American psyche that is deeply wounded...and deeply afraid.

The long row of televisions so common in some gyms these days was hard to look away from today. But I did avert my eyes when I saw CNN's coverage of Trump's so called foreign policy speech. I couldn't hear his speech but instead gathered the gist of what he was saying by the sound bites that would appear in text on the screen. Trump would have us believe that he will put American interests first. It would seem Trump is determined to appeal to the xenophobia and wounded feelings so visible in the American psyche today.

There is at least one big problem with Trump's perspective: it doesn't embrace the rest of the world as somehow being of equal value. The Trump doctrine (if you can call it that without bursting into laughter) would appear to have us believe that the United States is the world. I suppose Trump thinks it best to help Americans forget about the other five billion plus other people outside our borders. By demonizing or ignoring the rest of the world it would appear Trump has discovered a path to victory.

Have Americans become so paranoid, cruel and stupid that Trump might actually win in November?

...

I think I will be reflecting on the metaphor of the village for a while. Weller's writings make for great material to ponder.

"Appreciate the astonishing fact of being alive..."

Tuesday, April 26, 2016


Yesterday I wrote about a bolt of lightning that struck a tree very close to my home. The varied metaphors associated with lightning flickered through my mind as I sat and took up my keyboard.
One saying would have us believe that lightning never strikes twice in the same place. Regardless of whether that is true or not what I implicitly hear when I think of that saying is the notion of predictability. Some things that happen in life will never happen twice.  Opportunities we may imagine will come our way again might not. It seems best that we find a way to "appreciate the astonishing fact of being alive...every day...every single breath."

The above words are those of Nando Parrado taken from a documentary of the October, 1972 Andes plane crash. I watched this documentary yesterday. The plane crash thrust approximately four dozen people into the harsh conditions that prevail in the Andes Mountains; the plane crashed at an elevation of approximately 3,600 meters. It was miraculous that anyone survived the plane crash let alone the severe conditions to be found in that part of the world.

If there is something good that can come from trauma perhaps it is a newfound appreciation for all that we have in our lives. Trauma, quite simply, sucks. But on the other side of trauma (for those who survive whatever ordeal they endure) we can find a vividness of life that has perhaps previously eluded us. Through the painful darkness and horror of a period of trauma we can emerge, seemingly ironically, more aware and appreciative of the beauty that surrounds us and the possibilities within our reach. We can find ourselves appreciating every day and every breath.

I find myself now dancing on a fine line. I long ago completed the trauma resolution work in my own journey of conscious healing. I still experience sadness and grief regarding how what I went through impacted by early development. My "village" throughout an important phase of my childhood development was not all that functional. But I am still here! I have never survived a plane crash but I have survived a number of harrowing experiences. And I now find myself appreciating, more than ever before, what I can still do in my life. I appreciate the astonishing fact of being alive today, Tuesday, April 26, 2016.

If you knew that you could not fail what would you do?

When Lightning Strikes

Monday, April 25, 2016


Today I was awoken by a bolt of lightning that struck a tree just across the alley from where I live. The thunder that accompanied the lightning was virtually simultaneous to the lightning bolt itself. I virtually levitated above my bed when the thunder struck the house. It was very jarring to be awoken by such a fierce noise!

Lightning fascinates me for a number of reasons. One reason I like lightning is related to the fact that my initial academic training was in the field of atmospheric science. I grew up in a place (Texas) where each spring season regularly features very strong thunderstorms. I found that my pulse quickened on those days when thunder was seemingly tearing apart the sky above me.

One of my mentors, Dr. Pamela Colorado, connected with me via Facebook today after she noticed a posting I made in reference to the lightning of this morning. I was reminded of her interest in thunder-dreamers. I'll plan to write more about this topic later.

Hearing from my former professor reminded me of a dream I had many years ago. I had the dream while I was visiting my mother's family in Borken, Germany. I dreamt that I was struck by lightning. I made my way to a hospital and waited for medical care. I was somehow resilient or strong enough to survive being struck by lightning. I was charred black all over my body. In remembering that past dream today I am reminded of the reality that we create our own reality by the words we speak and the fantasies we entertain.

The lightning from this morning also reminded me of another snippet from my life related to lightning. Not so long ago I told my therapist that I was willing to do most anything to heal my life. I told him that I was even willing to be struck my lightning if that would produce a healed state of being. The lightning from this morning thus seems especially appropriate. Perhaps my full healing is now as close to me as the alley behind my home.

As for my own present day life I am currently doing outreach in the hope of finding a suitable employment opportunity in Hawai'i. I will be spending time actively imagining what I want in the coming weeks and months. At this time I hope to relocate to Hawai'i some time between August 1st and October 1st.

My heart is full of Hawai'i. I feel I belong in Hawai'i.

Tomorrow

Saturday, April 23, 2016


It's so nice to see that spring has finally won its annual battle with winter here in Minnesota. We shall get another swipe of chilly weather this coming week but the days of harsh, brittle winds blowing directly from the North Pole are over for another season.

I began reading a great book written by Francis Weller. The book takes up the dense topic of grief. I found it comforting to read what I have thus far. I actually met Weller a few years ago when I attended a Minnesota Men's Conference event in September, 2013.

I continue to look at opportunities in Hawai'i. I am pleased that I am following my heart. If you had no tomorrow to be alive for what would you do today?

That Moment When You Feel...Amazing

Sunday, April 17, 2016


Many positive developments took place in the last week. The biggest highlight was the decisive shift in the work I have been doing with my therapist during the last few years. We have shifted to meeting just once a week now. I am now focused on preventative care rather than actively plumbing the recesses of my earlier life history. In other words I am basically done with therapy now.

When I look back on past forays into the world of psychotherapy I feel I can describe those times in this way: my earlier efforts undertaken with the guidance of a mental health professional were something like an amateur gardener who, not appreciating the reality of roots, goes into his garden and clears out weeds without actually taking the roots of those weeds out. So what happens? The weeds inevitably grow back. I think the impact of trauma on our lives, both as individuals as well as in society at large, can all too easily persist if we don't apply the correct tools to heal trauma. We must address the roots of trauma if we wish to experience lasting healing.

It's so nice to be me now. I feel much safer and happier in my own skin. When I consider how early in my own life I experienced significant trauma an investment of three years of therapy is a very reasonable investment to make to heal the harm I experienced.

This could be a much better world if we all would take the journey of healing our individual and collective wounds.

Writing To My (Still Living) Parents

Thursday, April 14, 2016


Spring is finally breaking through here in Minnesota. The lakes in the southern part of Minnesota iced out weeks ago. The buds on countless trees and bushes are bursting forth. Whatever hesitation the plants of the area had in blooming out will surely disappear over the course of the next several days as temperatures flirt with 70F. I feel relieved that winter is melting away. I have been feeling ready for a new season for several weeks now.

I am still going to therapy. Sometimes I feel it's a bit boring. Other times I still find it a great source of insight. I still feel some sadness within my heart. I still have grief work that I am doing. But the weight of what I feel continues to lighten up day after day, week after week, month after month. A person cannot live in grief indefinitely. Eventually we must conclude mourning that which we have lost and move forward.

I wrote a letter to my father this morning. I am not planning on sending it to him. I will probably reference this writing when I see my therapist this evening. I expressed some thoughts and feelings I have never been allowed the opportunity to express within my family of origin. My thoughts focused on that chain of manhood that stretches back to the faint reaches of ancient history. I wrote about my thoughts about what may or may not have happened when my father was nearly murdered. I do not know how my father's father dealt with the news of one of his own children being nearly murdered...and by his own wife no less. Based on what I know of my grandfather I would guess he was not emotionally available to my own father in a way that would have been of value to my father. It's difficult to know what exactly happened. My paternal grandfather has been dead twenty-five years now. And my own father has long followed a policy of sharing as little information as possible. I suspect that whatever response my grandfather made to my own father at the time of his near death only further compounded my father's suffering. I find it difficult not to believe that my grandfather would have been aloof.

The way men raise their sons is so important. When men fail their sons the consequences can be so important. Those consequences can be very long lasting too. It seems trauma that goes unhealed in one generation virtually automatically gets inherited by the next generation.

I decided to take a stand in my own family. I decided to say "Enough" several years ago and no longer participate in the culture of silence that caused me so much pain, confusion and anxiety. The cost of my decision to no longer participate has been immense. But the cost of going along with the way my paternal family of origin deals with deep pain and dysfunction was even greater. I made a painful choice. I am still saddened by what I have lost. But I also take comfort in the choice I made. I am now the healthiest person I have ever been in my life.

Painful, difficult decisions can be so arduous. But they are a part of life.

I am looking forward to seeing the green returning to the world when I drive to see my therapist this evening.

When There Is Nothing Left To Do...But Live

Sunday, April 3, 2016


I have been at this blog writing journey for a bit of time now. It's been nearly three years since I started writing about my journey of recovery from trauma. I never expected I would be doing this.

I haven't written much in recent months. Quite honestly there is very little for me to say compared to what I had to share in the first months I was writing. I still visit with my therapist. I still have days when I feel deep sadness. I still have days when memories of the horrible time that was June, 2013 float through my conscious awareness. But I don't experience myself being triggered into a state of deep upset as I once experienced all too often. I have managed to excise myself from the situations that contributed to my immense distress.

It's been a bit strange for me to realize that the stressful journey out of that dark time was so anxiety provoking in itself on many occasions that it took me quite a while to adjust to feeling...normal. Living in an environment that creates minimal stress was not something I had the fortune of enjoying rather quickly after my life essentially fell apart in June, 2013. It took me a while to gradually move into a much healthier way of living. But here I am!

Spring is coming to Minnesota. It's the last spring that I want to witness here. As the buds on the trees and bushes swell and blossom forth I feel myself breathing a deep...an incredibly deep...sigh of relief. That storm of pain, shock and chaos I was caught in for so long is long gone now. I now experience the quiet after the storm.

The relative spaciousness within my own psyche is something still quite unusual for me. I had carried around unhealed grief and sorrow for so long that the openness within me is still something novel for me...despite the passage of thirty-three months. Deep trauma can take a long time to heal. But it can indeed be healed. My life journey is proof of that truth.

I want to live in a way I never have before!

What Will Endure?

Saturday, March 26, 2016


I went to a grief ritual last Saturday. It was quite a rich experience. Acknowledging my grief before my ancestors (my blood family of origin) is something I have done before. The necessity of cultivating a close relationship with those who have passed beyond the veil and into the world beyond this ordinary reality feels more urgent to me than ever. It seems likely that the world as I and we know it is going to radically change in the coming years and decades. It doesn't seem possible that it won't. The evidence of tremendous change is all around us.

I am feeling that very human fear of the unknown. I often feel a chaotic future is awaiting humanity. How could it not when we seem virtually destined to overshoot the carrying capacity of the planet? Are there already too many human beings living in the world? That is a good question. I would prefer to believe there could be no such thing. Couldn't we interpret a larger human population to mean there are more hearts beating in the world and therefore more love in the world? Wouldn't that be a nice equivalency to believe in! But then again more people can also be equated with more environmental degradation.  As someone originally trained as an atmospheric scientist I know all too well the arc of our species' impact on the atmosphere. We are unleashing a Pandora's Box of change upon the world given the power of approximately seven billion of us moving about the world. A new epoch is upon us. Some call it the Anthropocene. I suspect it will be the most eventful period yet for the human species.

So perhaps you may be wondering what is happening in my own personal world.

I am still on my own healing odyssey. It's been quite a journey. But I feel much better now. The grief I feel related to the deprivation and trauma I experienced in my own childhood is still inside me. But the weight of it is lighter. Will I always have some measure of sadness in my heart? It seems so. But my heart has a lot of room in it. I have space for many people, memories and dreams in my heart.

What is imperishable among all that humans have created? I would say it must be love.

The Deepening Journey

Saturday, March 12, 2016


My "archeological dig" of the last thirty-three months has produced some amazing results. What I am most aware of now is the immense grief and sadness I was carrying around for so long. The source of my grief is, in large measure, the persistent experience of feeling unseen and having my most basic needs go unmet for so much of my childhood. Put simply, I didn't get enough attention. I was left alone a lot. And when I was in the company of others it was often a stressful experience. Such is often the early life experience of many people who grow up in dysfunctional families of origin.

Lately I have been reflecting on the notions of being selfish and selfless. I realize I had a very unhealthy habit of being selfless for much of my earlier life. But when you are selfless what exactly do you have? Who are you if you have no real self? It seems you become something like a phantom. Being selfless seems a sure path to eventual burnout, resentment and illness.

Realizing how I lived such an incredibly imbalanced life earlier in my life has been rather horrifying. Pulling myself back and seeing in such a clear way just how "selfless" I was has, in some way, intensified my grief at times. But it seems this is just a natural part of the process of healing. To become truly healthy individuals capable of loving relationships, meaningful work and stable living we must learn to look at our own personal wounds and darkness.

I plan to continue writing about my journey here. And I appreciate those who are sharing my journey by following my blog.

Bearing Witness With My Mature Adult Self

Monday, March 7, 2016


I've been at work on this whole healing thing for quite a while. I finally feel that I am starting to leave behind a plateau I was on the last several months. I know the change of seasons is certainly helping me to feel that my progress continues. When the backdrop of the seasons changes in the midst of a long term healing process it can be easier to look back and feel a greater distance separates us from a particularly dark time in our own lives.

I met with my therapist this evening. I was given some homework to do. I'm tasked with the activity of imagining my mature adult self looking at the course of my life through a wall of glass. The glass wall is a metaphor. It symbolizes a separation between me and the life I had previously lived. You could think of it as the equivalent of the protective gear doctors use when following universal precautions.

I feel much better now because I have acknowledged myself for doing so well in my life despite all the challenges and hardship I experienced.

I am not exactly beaming with happiness these days. But I feel a growing capacity for enduring contentment.

The Light Returns

Tuesday, March 1, 2016


I am deep in the grieving process now. It's been a bit difficult lately considering some of the stress I was experiencing in February. I am grateful that those turbulent daily waters are now behind me. And it helps that the light is returning.

I never imagined I would virtually exult at the return of the light this time of year. But that was before I lived through four Minnesota winters. Four of them are enough for my taste. I am looking forward to a very different life by the end of this calendar year. The trees are still barren and it will be a cold night tonight but I know the inevitable end of winter is coming.

Grief is a strange and wondrous beast. Sometimes I feel positively tackled by it. Other moments I find myself feeling my grief is quite subtle. There are moments when I feel I cannot breathe. And then there are other times when deep racking sobs steal upon me so suddenly I feel positively broadsided. Dancing with grief is an unfolding education.

Looking Inside

Saturday, February 27, 2016

"Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes." – Carl Jung

I experienced a tremendous shift in my own growth in the last few months. I shifted the focus of my exploration. I no longer spend any time in therapy speaking about my feelings about the people from my family of origin. I was consumed with that about two years ago. Instead I am looking inside myself and exploring how I feel about myself. And I clearly see that I can be very hard on myself.

As I shifted my gaze I began to feel mortified by what I was discovering. I began feeling that my own behavior in regards to my family of origin resembled that of a battered spouse who repeatedly goes back to an abusive partner - and then experiences yet another dose of abuse and horror. I found myself understanding that my own behavior for so long had resembled such a cycle of ongoing harm.

I felt really horrible as it dawned on me how much my desire to be loved and cared for was prompting me to tolerate the inappropriate, unkind and abusive behavior of people from my family of origin.

For far too long I have lived a life with a very coarse voice inside my own head. I feel I see an aspect of the imbalance in my own earliest years of life very clearly now. My upbringing led me to internalize a much too stern, authoritarian voice inside my head. I developed a capacity to be extremely critical and harsh. Though I did experience some genuine nurturing in my childhood that influence was relatively weak. And so I have come to realize that I need more...gentleness.

A therapist I once worked with articulated the following wisdom to me: We often treat our bodies in a manner quite identical to how our family of origin treated us. People who treat themselves in harsh and abusive ways thus tend to have grown up in harsh and abusive environments. It's quite sobering to ponder really. This wisdom suggests that early life conditioning is indeed a very powerful influence on who we later become.

I feel fortunate to have developed the insight I have developed over these last few years. As I continue to transform my life I feel more and more optimistic that I can create a good future for myself.

Watching Life No More

Friday, February 26, 2016


I see beautiful sunlight falling upon my hands as I type yet another entry to chronicle my unfolding odyssey.

Outside it's winter but not really winter. It's almost spring but not quite spring. We are moving into that between time of the year. I am in between as well. I do not feel fully healed. But I am not in a deep abyss either. I am moving. I am moving forward. I am breathing. I am relaxing. I am relieved.

It seemed as if I was slipping back into an immense darkness earlier this month. And so I decided to do something kind for myself. I sought out some resources from some familiar places here in my local community. And now, due to my own diligence as well as the kindness of my friends, I find myself feeling much better.

My sadness is still with me. But it is no longer an immense, nearly suffocating cloud. It is much smaller and lighter now. Rather than needing a full size suitcase which I would have to check onto an airplane I can "fit" my sadness into a carry-on bag. My body and the feelings I carry is much more...portable.

I can't watch life any more. I can't be someone who witnesses life rather than actually lives it. I can't be a vicarious dweller of shadows whose pain lingers and smothers. I see myself taking myself to a new realm. I see a new place and a new possibility. I see healing and wholeness in my future life. And I see love and friendship as well. These are the things I dream of for myself.

...

When we feel deeply victimized, demoralized, frightened or confused it is a very natural response to withdraw from the world to protect ourselves. We may find we need a significant amount of time to regroup and recover. If we truly love and care about ourselves we can, to the best of our abilities, give ourselves the time we need to restore ourselves.

...

I have heard grief described as a sort of high praise for that which we have lost. This feels true to me. One of the greatest honors we can bestow upon our losses is our tears.

Being Willing to Learn

Sunday, February 21, 2016


I would not be where I am today had I not been willing to learn throughout my life.

In June, 2013, when my life felt as if it was in free-fall, I opened myself to the possibility of doing still more personal growth work. But I certainly was not enthusiastic about it at the time. I felt I had already done enough work on myself. Why did I need to do more? Hadn't I already done enough self-inquiry to heal from the deep wounding I experienced as a child? It soon became clear there was a whole new level of functionality I could attain through application of the proper treatment.

Thirty-two months have passed since that eventful June. I now feel very grateful that I took the plunge and allowed myself to learn still more. A piece in the New York Times Sunday Review from July, 2015 speaks to the significant value of research. I invite you to read it and then consider how open you are to learning new things. Are you willing to change your life in the short-term so you can enjoy a higher quality of life in the long term? Are you willing to truly listen to observations and recommendations you might initially find unpalatable?

Being willing to cultivate an attitude of curiosity about the world around us is, in my opinion, vital to our well-being. What would you be willing to do today to foster such an attitude?

The Inexplicable

Saturday, February 20, 2016


My first foray into the world of higher education provided me with the training to understand (to the degree that science currently can) the behavior of the atmosphere. Using the term 'behavior' is perhaps not the most apt term considering that many are likely to associate such a word with a sentient being. People display a wide variety of behaviors. Animals behave in certain manners - we notice certain behaviors in our domesticated pets and describe them as variously adorable or irksome. But the atmosphere? Can we describe the never-ending motion of the atmosphere as a behavior?

When something (a behavior, an unanticipated event) defies our explanation we may call it inexplicable. I have experienced a number of things in my life which have strongly defied explanation - easy or otherwise. I have recently been reflecting on one such event as I continue to explore who I am.

In 1997 I lived among the Lakota people of South Dakota for approximately four months. I was sent there as a novice of the New England province of the Society of Jesus. The Society of Jesus, commonly known as the Jesuits, is a well known Roman Catholic religious order known for its preferential option for the poor as well as the mantra of everything "for the greater glory of God".
My four month period of life among one of the many indigenous peoples of North America was profoundly transformative.

One day I found myself driving back to the Rosebud reservation after making a trip in the direction of Rapid City. You can drive for many, many miles in certain stretches of South Dakota and not encounter another car on the highway. I had no company with me in my car. I suddenly found myself feeling overcome with tears. It seemed my body had suddenly become the locus for something far bigger than my own self. My tears, at least at the time, seemed...inexplicable.

In a New York Times Sunday piece from April, 2014 Barbara Ehrenreich talks of a mystical moment she experienced at the age of 17 in Lone Pine, California. She saw the world "suddenly flame into life." She goes on to recount that she was left with only one explanation as to what had occurred:

"I had had a mental breakdown, ultimately explainable as a matter of chemical imbalances, overloaded circuits or identifiable psychological forces. There had been some sort of brief equipment failure, that was all, and I determined to pull myself together and put it behind me, going on to finish my formal education as a cellular immunologist and become a responsible, productive citizen."

Like Barbara and her experience of a flaming world I was similarly perplexed by what I experienced on that day amidst the frozen badlands of South Dakota. Years later as I recall this experience I offer an explanation for what occurred which many all too rational individuals might believe to be absurd. I could feel the grief of the Lakota people in the landscape of South Dakota. It was as if the grief of a whole group of people had, albeit briefly, inhabited my own body and mind. The vessel of my one body could not hold such heaviness. So I found myself crying out in a state of overwhelm. I believe that memory is something that lives not only in our own brains and bodies but also in the very places we inhabit and mark as our own.

There is something else I have also found inexplicable. How did I survive what I did growing up? A friend recently described it as unsurvivable.

The anger and rage I once carried regarding what I endured is long gone. The grief is settling out now as well. I find myself mourning what seems to be the last layer of my layer cake of emotions. I find myself grieving how I endured so much of what I did alone as a child among many dysfunctional adults.

Moving Onward To...?

Friday, February 19, 2016


It's been a relatively long time since I last wrote in my blog.

Winter has grown very old here in Minnesota. And I don't just mean this one particular iteration of winter. I speak of the season of winter in general. My eyes crave the beauty of lush life beyond the windows that separate me from winter's chill. I find the barren trees and snow covered ground such bleak imagery that I avert my eyes from such images whenever possible.

I have been doing some intensive work on myself again lately. It's comforting to be able to report that the anger and outrage I once carried around for so long is now a feature of my distant past. I actually drew up a diagram the other day and then shared it with my therapist. You could call it the layer cake of feelings. I had a lot of feelings to disentangle back in 2013. At the time I first embarked on yet another (and final) leg of my psychic healing journey my anger was quite palpable. It took some time for that to dissipate. My anger masked an immense amount of fear, sadness and grief. I am still working through the sadness. But it is nothing like it once was either.

I recently came to an additional insight; there was still something more underneath the fear, sadness and grief. There was a deep feeling of loneliness. I am leaning into the weight of that feeling of aloneness now. It's a heavy feeling indeed.

But that's it! There's nothing left which I can sense living underneath the loneliness. My loneliness represents the bottom of the bucket.

I'm planning to move on from Minnesota later this year. I feel the time is coming for me to leave this place and embark on a truly new and powerful beginning.

I feel a growing capacity for happiness burgeoning inside me.

When The Healing Is Deep

Thursday, January 14, 2016


My life is so relatively uneventful now that I feel I have little to share in my blog. Naturally this isn't true. I could try writing some poetry or make time sharing my impressions of a singular piece of the world beyond my windows during this darkest and coldest time of the year.

I am excited that the shortest days of the year are now behind us. Spring will inevitably come. And when this spring comes I feel certain I will experience it in a profoundly different way.

I have been having this sensation in my body quite a bit lately that is exceedingly unfamiliar. I feel like I am calming down into a state of being I have rarely known in my life. I am learning how to relax and stretch into my life again. I am learning how to trust again.

I still go to therapy and plan to keep going until I relocate out of Minnesota later this year. There is a whole world of possibilities out there.

Frozen

Friday, January 8, 2016


Yes, I am indeed still alive.

I have written my blog for such a long period of time that I sometimes found myself feeling almost guilty this last week that I had not written a single entry for 2016 until now.

The brutal, cutting winds of winter are sweeping through the streets outside. This winter has been nothing like the one I experienced two years ago. But it is winter nonetheless. The world outside my windows is quiet. It is the time of dormancy. And I realize how much I want to live in another part of the world where dormancy does not define the outer world for essentially half the year.

My life felt dormant for far too long. Though I have been alive for decades the grief, fear and anger I experienced in my childhood did not completely thaw and melt away during my past forays into the realm of medicine. These last two and a half years have been a different story.

Grief. Fear. Anger. These and others were too long my guests. And they were frozen inside my very being. They lay as dormant as the fields of Minnesota on a long January night. But now they have finally melted.

I have been coping with nausea and reflux for several weeks now. I obviously need to make some modifications to my diet. I also feel the need to develop a new relationship with the diet of information I take in each day.

...

I feel fairly good much of the time now.

I long for a time where I will enjoy a place not defined by a long dormancy in the outer world.

This will be a year of significant change in my life.

When The Fog Clears

Tuesday, December 29, 2015


There is a sharpness about my life that was lacking for so long. Clarity is my companion at unexpected moments. I could feel this truth within the fiber of my being as I drove home tonight.

I finally feel as if I will soon be moving beyond a certain plateau I have felt stuck at the last several months. My grief, though nothing like it was in 2013, continues to occupy a portion of my heart and mind. But it is finally and consistently beginning to feel manageable.

There are still days when I wonder what my life could have been if only I had found powerful treatment for my unsuccessfully (fully) treated case of PTSD many years ago. What person could I have become had such a powerful intervention into the course of my life occurred years before it actually did?

I might have stayed in Monterey, California upon completing my graduate studies there.

I might never have traveled to Portland, Oregon where I spent a year of my life and accomplished what I now feel in hindsight was relatively little and quite insignificant to my career evolution.

But then again different circumstances in 2012 might have steered me away from ultimately applying to the McCloy Fellowship Program offered by the American Council on Germany.

There are so many directions my life could have gone. Now I finally feel interested in steering my life in a consistent way and in a singular direction.

I feel good about what I can create in 2016.

Americana

Saturday, December 19, 2015


So I finally decided what I am going to do in the future in regards to my blog. In 2016 my goal will be to write once a week. Given the deep work I did the last 2 1/2 years I do not anticipate I will write extensively about my own personal journey in 2016.  I am largely complete with the psychotherapeutic odyssey I have undergone these last thirty months.

The holidays are often not an easy time of year for me. This year seems similar in that regard. And yet I feel much better than I did a year ago. I am still swimming through my grief. But at least I am able to swim through it. And I am fortunate to have friends and a therapist to accompany me on my journey.

American culture at large continues to dismay me these days. I feel deep concern regarding the political discourse related to the 2016 presidential election. Bullying and machismo seem to be as firmly rooted in the American psyche as they ever have been. We continue to witness gun violence at an appalling rate in this country. And we continue to collectively fail to do anything substantive about this scourge that, in my opinion, makes us a pariah state in the international community.

I am not proud to be an American citizen these days.

What To Do Next?

Sunday, December 13, 2015


I am beginning to feel that writing a blog as frequently as I once did no longer really serves my needs. I know this is true partly due to the fact that I have changed. I am a very different person compared to the man I was in June, 2013.

I now find myself very aware of the many opportunities I have enjoyed in my life. Yes, I have experienced immense hardship. Yes, I was deeply and repeatedly traumatized in the earliest years of my life. But that is only one part of my life story. I overcame the obstacles of my early life history and obtained a great education. I have been generous with my time and energy throughout my life. I have been a kind person.

I need to move on now.

A whole new world is opening up to me now.

Old Demons

Friday, December 4, 2015


It was another full week.

And here I am being a responsible adult male and writing about my journey of recovery from trauma on a Friday night. There are times when I feel I must have one of the dullest lives on the planet. I am diligent and focused. And I am writing...on a Friday night. And yet somehow I am still struggling financially. Too often I find myself asking myself the question "How is this possible?" How is it possible that I could have worked as long as I have and have so little material security to show for it. It seems almost...inconceivable.

Yesterday was a rough day. I was obliged to visit one of my old haunts. The old haunt I am referring to is Abbott Northwestern Hospital. I went there for a CT scan after seeing a doctor in Uptown (who was filling in for my primary care doctor). My GI system has been bothering me for over a week now. I was also feeling a bit lethargic and unmotivated. So I decided to continue to live in a way I have been living ever since June, 2013. I decided to be proactive. I try to be as proactive about my health as possible because I want to minimize the risk of ever going through something like what I endured in June, 2013.  That month felt like a thirty day marathon of the sky falling in on me.

While visiting Abbott Hospital I was unsurprised to find memories of 2013 drifting through my awareness. I felt like I virtually lived at Abbott Hospital during the summer of that year. Upon getting great health insurance at the beginning of June, 2013 I decided to make extensive use of it. And as I made use of my insurance I discovered there was a lot of work I could do on myself. I feel proud of how much I have utilized the gift of my health insurance. And I am determined to never go through a period of my life in the future without health insurance. Living without insurance strikes me as incredibly risky and irresponsible.

The pain of that period of 2013 was compounded by the fact that I went to many of my medical appointments alone. Though I did have some local friends at that time I had not lived in Minnesota very long at that point. Bearing the burden of undergoing so many tests and appointments was thus more difficult because I had minimal local support to assist me in a time of immense need.

Old memories of painful times from decades ago appeared in my thoughts again today. I attended the annual meeting of the Youth Intervention Programs Association in Brooklyn Center. I met a lot of people who are passionate about helping youth overcome obstacles and realize their potential. I felt very encouraged. But I also found the meeting to be a sobering experience. The scale of the problem of disenfranchised and mistreated youth is significant. There is a lot of work to be done.


These last thirty months represent my most concerted effort I have ever made to transcend the pain and limitations of my early life history. I might not have been so diligent in my journey of healing had what happened in 2013 occurred much earlier in my life. I would like to believe that we all tend to become more mature as the years pass. I might have foregone the opportunity to do still more psychotherapy had I been a man a decade younger than I actually was. Older and wiser often can go together.

I feel a lot calmer tonight after having my doctor rule out appendicitis and diverticulitis as likely explanations for the symptoms I have been experiencing in my gut.

I continue to do my best to be open to healing in my life. Healing, love, abundance and joy can come to us in very unexpected ways. I would like to believe that 2016 will be my best year yet. I certainly feel I have been tilling my own 'psychic ground' long enough such that immense blessings should easily find their way to me.

One can only hope.

World AIDS Day

Tuesday, December 1, 2015


Today was a day dedicated to honoring those who have lost their lives to AIDS and those who fight onwards in the present day in the search for a means to stop the spread of HIV. I was fortunate to be a bit too young to be able to count myself among that generation of gay men who lost many, many friends and lovers to AIDS. I can vaguely remember hearing about the development and spread of AIDS on the evening news when I was a kid. I wasn't even technically a teenager until 1986. By that time AIDS had spread throughout the world. The epidemic was in full swing by the time there was any chance I would be sexually active and thus be at heightened risk of infection. Had I been born in a different time (earlier) and place (the San Francisco Bay Area or New York City area) I might easily already be dead today. Our life journeys can lead us in unexpected directions.

In the autumn of 2004 I did some extensive traveling. I was a graduate student at that time. I went to the Netherlands to visit the village where my paternal family of origin lived before coming to the United States in the 1870s. Upon returning to the United States I visited Boston and New York City. My visit to Boston coincided with World AIDS Day that year. I can still recall attending an AIDS Day event  during my visit to Boston. I walked a labyrinth and contemplated all the people who had died in the two decades prior to 2004.

The appearance of the AIDS epidemic has relevance to my blog focused on trauma. How? The AIDS epidemic was a cause of immense loss and suffering for many people. Many gay people lost friends, partners and even whole networks of people. And as HIV continued to spread around the world it became quite clear that AIDS was not a "gay disease". Heterosexual people, married couples, injection drugs users and others fell victim to HIV infection. HIV was (and still is) an equal opportunity destroyer of lives. The loss and suffering many people endured was so extreme that it is not an exaggeration to state many people were genuinely traumatized by what happened. The AIDS epidemic thus exemplifies how serious physical health issues can ultimately compound upon themselves and lead to additional burdens such as psychological trauma. It's a wonder more people in the healthcare community did not burn out given the demands they experienced in the 1980s and 1990s. And the trauma of the AIDS epidemic was still further compounded by the hatred, hypocrisy and hysteria many infected with HIV found themselves confronted with in American society.

HIV and AIDS is a very different reality today. Those who became infected but nonetheless survived the early years of the epidemic now face realities that were quite rare decades ago. Having survived two or even three decades those first infected with HIV long ago now also face the challenges of aging. These circumstances will undoubtedly bring both new opportunities and challenges for those living with HIV as well as the healthcare industry.

I thought of the changing face of the HIV positive community today as I reflected on the significance of World AIDS Day. I have a good friend in his 60s who is HIV positive. It is wondrous that so many people were ultimately able to survive the early years of the epidemic. And I think it's even more amazing that some of these survivors' mental health is as good as it is. I wasn't an adult in the early 1980s so I can't know what it was like to be a young man and suddenly discover myself to be HIV positive. I can imagine it felt positively harrowing for all too many people.

As I prepare to end yet another productive day marked by numerous blessings I feel quite fortunate to be me.

Being Healthy...Every Day

Friday, November 27, 2015


The world of retail calls today Black Friday. I personally enjoyed a Relaxed Friday. It was a great gift to have very little to do today. I feel fortunate to have several days in a row off so I can take some time to recharge. The holidays are often not an easy time for me. I can easily find myself thinking about my family of origin. And soon I might find myself spiraling down into a deep (though temporary) funk when I bring to mind the reality that I am not on speaking terms with my paternal family of origin.

Nearly two and a half years have passed since "all hell broke loose" in my life in 2013. I put that phrase in quotes because it has such a dramatic ring to it. Though that time in my life was indeed horrible there was never anything (to my knowledge) that happened during that time that was life threatening. I was miserable for quite a while due to the fact that I had placed my trust in a number of people...and then I learned, in rather quick succession, that several people I had trusted were not at all trustworthy.

Stress and fear can bring out the worst in people. I believe you can often learn a lot more about who people truly are when they are stressed and enduring immense loss as compared to when their lives are filled with joy and contentment. The good times make for smooth sailing in life. It's the dark storm clouds of chaos and pain that overwhelm many people. It is easy to begin living in survival mode when stress and suffering persist over a long period of time.

Recovery from trauma is a process. I have commented on this elsewhere in my blog. In this regard trauma recovery is not unlike recovery from other challenges that life may present us. Challenges such as financial setbacks, physical health issues and catastrophic events (such as losing your home in a fire) all may often require us to diligently work to recover. Such recovery work will require us to commit some amount of time so that we may ultimately overcome such difficulties. Lasting recovery may thus prove especially challenging for those who do not come by patience easily. Discerning a realistic ending in a journey of trauma recovery may prove quite difficult when you first embark on such a journey. I know this from my own personal experience. It is no coincidence that my own blog references the word 'odyssey' in the title. I have often felt as if I have been on a journey of healing for a very long time!

I now generally feel as if I am living a fairly healthy life on a daily basis. There are still some moments when I find myself ruminating on old hurts and disappointments. There are days when I feel very unmotivated and even deeply pessimistic about the likelihood that I will one day achieve those big, amazing dreams we all supposedly have for our individual lives. Some days I feel as if my very ancient grief (which first appeared in my childhood when I nearly lost both of my biological parents by the age of nine) still has immense power to distort my view of the world around me. But thankfully these issues continue to wane with time. The trend line of my life continues to point up. I feel optimistic about my prospects for my future.

The world at large is another matter. With some individuals drawing comparisons between one of our current supposedly credible GOP contenders for the 2016 Presidential election ("The Donald") and Adolf Hitler it's not at all surprising that some people would feel depressed about the state of affairs throughout the world. Chaos seems to reign in many parts of the world. The potential long term consequences of an Islamic State continuing to undermine the stability of Africa, Europe and the Middle East are too horrifying to easily contemplate. Meanwhile the Pacific Basin is experiencing a monstrous El Nino which may easily set records during this upcoming winter. It doesn't appear we are going to do anything genuinely significant about human induced climate change until catastrophic disruption of the global climate is not only upon us but largely irreversible.

When pondering the world at large I try to take pause when I find myself feeling deeply pessimistic. Given my own life history it can be difficult to clearly identify what portion of my pessimism is attributable to the trauma I endured as a child and what portion is a healthy and proportionate response to what I witness occurring in the world around me.

There is only so much that one person can do in the world. I am deeply aware of that given my current professional commitment. And yet I nonetheless believe that we could successfully address the biggest problems of the world if we would bring more courage, creativity and determination to bear to seeking solutions to those problems.

The world needs more love rather than more money. We need people committed to living lives of open-heartedness.

Illumination

Monday, November 23, 2015


I had a very enjoyable meeting this morning. My meeting was with a man who works for a company I am becoming increasingly interested in. What made the meeting all the more memorable was the fact that a certain song came over the speakers of the coffee bar we met at while we were still in 'meeting mode'. It was the song 'Breathe Me'. This song became a permanent part of my personal music favorites  after being featured in the finale of the television show Six Feet Under. The song coupled with the finale of this well received show has a way of making the most emotionally reserved of us human beings turn (at least briefly) into sobbing heaps. If there is one television show finale that powerfully captures the ephemeral quality of human existence it is the finale of Six Feet Under. I experienced what happened this morning as a powerful synchronicity.

I have long believed in the significant value of incidents of synchronicity. But what is a synchronicity? The term synchronicity was conceived by Carl Jung and can be described as "a significant coincidence of physical and psychological phenomena that are acausal connected." The worldview I apply to my daily life includes this particular instruction when a synchronicity occurs: Pay Attention! I found myself paying close attention when I became aware that the song 'Breathe Me' was playing during the particular meeting I had this morning. I took this meaningful coincidence as a sign that my crossing paths with this man could be the beginning of something profound in my life.

My day continued to feel exceedingly significant to my future life when I realized that this unexpected incident this morning happened on the anniversary of a session I did two years ago with a local shamanic practitioner. The day felt incredibly filled with both reminders of my past and hints of possibilities for my future.

It will soon be time for me to end my waking hours for this day. I will go to bed feeling excited about what I can manifest in my future life. I felt I had something of a breakthrough regarding the future possibilities open to me (and my openness to them) due to what happened this morning.

Life has an amazing way of leading us down paths we might never have imagined we would take.

The Perils Of Working Too Much

Sunday, November 22, 2015


I spent much of my weekend engaged in work. Yesterday I attended a leadership development program  I have been attending since late September. Today I made visits to two local Catholic parishes to promote the work of my current employer. I thus had to be up quite early on both days. I didn't have much of a chance to relax this weekend. I am therefore grateful that the forthcoming week will be an abbreviated one.

I don't feel that I am burning out again. But I do have a persistent awareness of both the risk of burnout as well as the signs that may begin appearing when a person is approaching a stage of burnout. The multi-faceted practice of self-care is vital for anyone engaged in one of the helping professions. Though my self care skills are still not as well developed as I would like them to be I nonetheless do feel good about the skills I am able to bring forth to direct my life.

When living an active life it is wise to be consistently mindful of what your priorities are.

Visions of California...and Beyond

Friday, November 20, 2015


Something unexpected happened yesterday. And it has me wondering about the full range of future possibilities that I could allow myself to realistically explore.

I logged into my LinkedIn profile and discovered someone from the Monterey Bay area of California had recently looked at my profile. When I reviewed this individual's profile I found my interest piqued. I actually began having a fantasy of getting a job with the organization this person works for. And suddenly I found myself imagining living in California once more.

It's not an understatement for me to claim that these last few years of my life have been profoundly transformational. I feel very different (and much healthier) as compared to how I felt over four years ago when I left California upon completing graduate school. I wish I had known about EMDR therapy earlier in my life history. Had I known about this powerful therapeutic tool I might have made better choices earlier in my life. I might have found and sustained a measure of vitality in my life many years sooner. I might be "more" successful in my professional life than I am now. I put the word 'more' in quotes because it would be untrue to state I am not successful now. I have created a measure of success in my life thus far. But I want more.

I will state that again: I want more. And I not only want more but I feel I genuinely need more. I feel that I need more of so many things. I need more love. I need more friendship. I need more intimacy. I need more fun. I need more exuberance. I need more of the fundamental elements necessary to create a vital and rewarding life.

The question that stands before me so often now is a question of how I can attend to the grief and sadness that I still feel so often. Such heaviness does not characterize my life on a daily basis. But I am nonetheless often aware of a heaviness within me borne of the extensive suffering and feelings of fear and anxiety I experienced so often when I was a small child. This pervasive fear and anxiety persisted for years. I simply became unconscious of the depth of my suffering because being conscious of it on a daily basis was simply too overwhelming. I developed a capacity for intensive dissociation as a way of dealing with the anxiety and fear I felt on a regular basis. June, 2013 marked a time when the immense amount of unacknowledged suffering and inner turmoil I had long carried finally erupted into my conscious world. I felt completely blindsided during that time. I felt devastated for many months. It was scary.

Nearly two and a half years have passed since that difficult time. My life is fairly serene now. I have a network of friends and others who provide me valuable support. I have a day job I enjoy. I have other interests I pursue as well. I am pondering what I will do in my future professional life. I am actively networking to learn more about what suitable opportunities may be open to me. In short, my life is quite good now.

But that sadness still resides in my heart. It is a sadness borne of living many, many years in such a manner that my capacity to fully experience the present moment was at least somewhat compromised. My sadness does not define me. Indeed, even on a bad day the sadness I carry feels nothing like it did as recently as six months ago. In a similar manner my 2013 diagnosis of PTSD does not define me either. The horrible events of my childhood do not define me either. I can move forward and I can transcend the obstacles I had to overcome.

I feel an excitement about my future I have not always felt. I believe 2016 and beyond may yet prove to be the best years of my life. I certainly intend to make every effort to realize this vision for myself. And I am going to continue to pray for guidance and support as I make my journey forward.

Freezing Time

Wednesday, November 18, 2015


I recently began the process of seriously thinking about what I want to do once my current professional role supposedly expires next August. I say "supposedly" because I have been thinking about the pros and cons of exploring the possibility of remaining in my role for an additional year. I enjoy the work I do now. And I would like to stay in my position long enough to see my efforts begin to come to significant fruition. And seeing such fruition occur seems to require that I remain in my role for more than one year.

As I contemplate the possibilities of my future I often feel a bit confused and even bewildered. I don't recognize the person I have become. And this is actually a good thing. I am far more forthright, confident and self-directed than was once typical of my general way of operating in the world. The person I have become feels much more consonant with the person I truly am. I have found my way back to my true self. I am expressing who I truly am.

There are still moments that arise in which I feel my grief weigh upon me with a heaviness that feels positively suffocating. But thankfully I am able to cope in those moments by applying a variety of skills I have learned to deeply care for my own health. When caught up in a wave of my deep grief I often find myself feeling a deep yearning to recapture the time I have lost. And when I realize I cannot travel back in time and really change the past I instead will sometimes have these thoughts of attempting to slow down the passage of time now. I find that I want to freeze time somehow. These thoughts arise in my own mind when I imagine different ways I can proceed with my future. If I were to stay in Minnesota a year longer than I was already planning to do then I feel an urgency to use that additional year so well that I would effectively not age.

Yes, there are many times I want to freeze time.

But time waits for no person. Somehow we must all come to terms with what we once enjoyed but can never again have.

The "Evil" Other

Saturday, November 14, 2015


"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

News stories like the one about the recent terrorist attack in Paris, France have a way of really getting under my skin. It always saddens me when I read of people perpetrating violence against other people. Such stories have a way of igniting or reigniting uncomfortable questions in my own mind. One of the foremost uncomfortable questions that has (re)appeared in my conscious awareness is this: "Is complete healing from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder possible?" I personally believe that it is. But then again you have to define what "complete healing" tangibly looks like. And it's also very true that people may suffer from PTSD due to any number of reasons. I believe it is therefore correct to assume that people experiencing PTSD have a wide range of potential prognoses.

Stories of violence made more destructive by human made weaponry are always particularly difficult for me to hear about. It seems only natural I would have such a response given the fact that some of the most severe trauma I experienced resulted from my stepmother's attempt to murder my father. Violence, whether it occurs between spouses, between races or between nation states, always elicits sadness in me. We are such a destructive species at times. And I think much of that destructiveness can be attributed to our (often irrational) fear of "the other".

I remember first learning about the "othering process" when I took a graduate class in the San Francisco Bay Area of California a number of years ago. I was able to grasp the idea behind this very clinical sounding phrase quickly. Writ simply "othering" is a way in which we as individuals or as a group make another group of people different...and thereby wrong. I have no doubt that a lot of "othering" language is currently being spewed throughout America in regards to what happened in Paris. There will undoubtedly be claims made by people of a conservative political persuasion that what happened in Paris justifies their belief that the proper policy response is to "kill all the Muslims". Such rhetoric certainly flared up in the days and months immediately after September 11, 2001. But from what I know Muslims are not the problem in this world...or even necessarily a big problem. What I believe is a big problem is undiscerned religious ideology unmoored from any genuine knowledge of world religions serving as the foundation for violent acts like what took place in Paris this past week.

...

My big "takeaway" from the tragedy in France is a reinforcement of my belief that people need to be seen, acknowledged and witnessed in their lives, both in their joy and in their pain. When people are effectively thrown away by their societies because they are perceived as "less than", dangerous, evil, wrong, bad and so on it often creates enormous damage in their lives. And it also provides fertile psychic soil for radicalization. One can see the ravaging effects of being cast away in any number of typically underserved and marginalized populations. I have witnessed it in peoples such as the Native American community, the elderly and the homeless.

I often feel we live in a highly reactive world where actions (being perceived to be doing something about an issue) are seen as having more value than simultaneously stepping back, at least for a moment, and really pondering what could lead people to do what they do. When reading about the tragedy in Paris I had the following questions: What were the lives of those eight people like who took so many more lives in Paris? Were they radicalized at a young age? Did they suffer immense deprivation and live in families that struggled to provide basic yet necessary things like food, shelter and clothing? Are their own nation states of origin zones of perpetual conflict? Do they believe the West is responsible for their agony?

I think I have lived long enough and worked among enough frequented disadvantaged and underserved populations of people to appreciate several truths: 1) despite all the trauma and hardship in my own life I am relatively fortunate, 2) reading about the lives of countless people who make up a statistic of some group that has suffered inordinate hardship is not the same as actually living such a hard life, 3) we will never successfully address the issues of our world if we automatically take a reactive stance rather than a responsive one, 4) gestures of solidarity are nice (like changing your profile picture on Facebook to show France's flag colors) but what about taking some action to look at the marginalized communities in your own midst and 5) there is not a person alive who cannot potentially thrive if he or she has sufficient support.

I really wish we would create a more thoughtful, compassionate, deliberative world. I believe we could. I believe we can. But many people are deeply fearful and feel deeply wounded. Fear rules many human actions.

It's the darkness in our own hearts and minds that must be attended to. We must first start with ourselves. Once we address the darkness in our own hearts, minds and lives we can then begin to better address it in the world. What a world we could create if we would stop killing, demonizing, maliciously gossiping and harming one another. What a world indeed.

Before looking outside of yourself look within.