Tag Archives: perception

Why Wait?

09 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by in camping, death and dying, earth, Happiness, healing, nature, recovery, Spirituality, Travel, Uncategorized

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2014-10-02 pond swampy Sandhills off Hoffman Road“We never know how many tomorrows we have left: eat dessert first!” “We plan, God laughs.”

The notion that we shouldn’t waste time because we have no idea when ours will be up is all too familiar. We’ve heard it, we’ve said it. Often, it’s a loss of a loved one, or the abrupt change in personal status that makes us take a fresh look at our lives. When my father died in 2013, and a dear friend died a mere 11 days later, I experienced what I’ve just recently heard described as “zombie grief”. I remember trying to describe it to some friends, that sensation of being nearly paralyzed. I was sure, I said, that it was the body’s way of preventing one (me) from doing anything drastic. After a while, I was able to move again, but I struggled both physically and emotionally. Only in relatively far retrospect did it dawn on me that I was depressed, grieving. I felt a great deal of anger, and in a way, it was refreshing, in that I felt freer to say “no”, and I did simplify my life somewhat. I stopped giving so much mental energy to people who took my energy but didn’t replenish it. I realized that changes that had occurred in my work situation needing changing once again. I planned for my departure, taking a two month hiatus and traveled across the country, enjoying plenty of time alone, visiting friends old and new, camping, and doing a little creative work through writing and photography. I returned to North Carolina, and struggled to find a balance of work that would be meaningful as well as pay bills alongside my desire to have some flexibility to do the other things that are important to me. It has not been easy, and still needs some adjusting, but for the most part I am glad for where I am with that process.

A week and a half ago, I had a couple of biopsies done on the sole of one foot. I had been concerned about the appearance of small to medium markings that had not always been there. My father died as a result of metastatic melanoma, which coincidentally appeared on the sole of his foot, so I’d been quietly terrified that those biopsies were going to come back as melanoma. I did share this concern with a couple of friends, but for the most part said nothing. I told one friend that if the report showed melanoma of the type that my father had, there is really nothing to be done about it and I would plan accordingly. I thought for just a moment and said “why am I waiting to find out if I have melanoma before deciding to plan accordingly?” Although I continued to wake up each morning wondering if today would be the day I’d get the bad news, I also spent a lot of time thinking about how important it is for me to continue to work towards ensuring that what I devote my time and energy to is more and more in alignment with those things I hold dear.

This afternoon I got the relieving news that I should keep an eye on things, but there are no high alerts at this time. I am thankful. I also hope I have the capacity to keep my eyes towards those priorities and avoid the trap of complacency. I aim to keep things fresh, and not be afraid to shake life up as I did in the fall when I quit a job that offered a modest salary with those much-coveted benefits in exchange for days and days of adventure, exploration, time with friends, new experiences, another kind of self-confidence, creative energy, and lots of “I wonder what today will bring?” mornings.

Eat dessert first!2014-09-23 dessert first Roccio2014-08-25 torta asadaJune 2016 off 109 trailhead troy nc area

Life Lessons Over Lunch

16 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by in Cochlear Implant and Hearing, sound, Uncategorized

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cam-prof-ci-freedom-sound-proc300x300

“I have the same problem with understanding conversation in a noisy environment.”

I met with a friend over lunch yesterday. We’ve known each other for at least 4 years, and our visits usually take place in one noisy restaurant or another. I enjoy her immensely, and we’ve talked about many different topics over the years. She has known from the start that I am deaf and hearing with bilateral cochlear implants. I have periodically made reference to my hearing in the context of one thing or another, but at lunch, while discussing the search for employment, it took on a different tone. Ultimately, it taught me old lessons through a new lens.

It is immeasurably difficult to explain adequately what it is about my struggle to filter out noise in order to hear speech (conversation) that is different from the struggle of the person who has difficulty hearing in noisy environments but has otherwise normal hearing. My friend asked me if I’d consider working as, say, a waitress in the bar and grill we were sitting at right at that moment. I proceeded to explain that though I’ve done that sort of work in the past and am not opposed to it in principle, I probably would not pursue it because a key aspect of the job is to take food and drink orders and I cannot count on being able to reliably understand all the details of the order provided by the customer. The background music, conversation around us, the overall noise level creates significant challenges. Even if I were to be successful most of the time in not needing a lot of repeat information or making a lot of errors, I am aware from experience the level of cognitive fatigue I would endure simply from the kind of intense and focused listening and lip reading that would be involved. I know that not only would that exhaust me physically, it would exhaust me mentally, and if I were to need to do other intense listening activities outside of work, my mood might be altered to the point that I would become irritable and unable to modulate my responses to external stimuli ONLY because of that cognitive fatigue. It would become a quality of life issue.

I tried to say all that face to face, but I don’t think I got it all out, nor do I think it would have made that much difference. Why? Because my friend has only her own experience, which is to struggle with hearing conversation in a noisy environment as a normal hearing individual. That’s her reference point and she cannot be expected to relate to a completely foreign experience, i.e. to hear electrically with bionic technology. One of the things I started to tell folks I mentored through the cochlear implant process is that I no longer spend a lot of time trying to describe what it sounds like, initially as well as in later stages, to hear with cochlear implant technology. It is not possible to understand unless you’re hearing with it yourself. The issue of hearing in noise as a hard of hearing person who wears hearing aids is somewhat similar. We use the same language to describe it, yet again it is different from my experience with cochlear implants.

I also took note of the fact that I was becoming somewhat defensive. I took my friend’s insistence that I can do this, that everyone struggles with the same problem, as an attack on my ability and willingness to pursue all reasonable options for employment. We discussed this, and she was able to help me see that she was just trying to understand. I appreciate her curiosity and willingness to stick with it all the way through. Many will not even care enough to try. However, it really is not something that is entirely possible to resolve. The message for me is that I must continue to build on my internal strength, to know and love not only my strengths but my limitations. Good life lessons over lunch.

Photo: cochlear.com

What was the Best Part?

20 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by in camping, Spirituality, Travel, Uncategorized

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Since I’ve been back from my nearly two month journey, the most frequently asked question has been “what was the best part?”

Often, I would preface my answer with another question: the best part of which part? The tent camping, the seeing people, the being alone with my thoughts, the food, the sightseeing–to the extent that I actually went sightseeing, for that was never the intention of this journey.

Although I am able, when pressed, to point out one or another highlight, the more I thought about it, the clearer it became that the whole of it was the best part. The whole, here, is something other than the sum of its parts.

Here is a list of many parts from this journey which are no greater or less than any of the other parts. It was in the process of writing all of this down that I developed another layer of appreciation of the power of being fully present. I am as guilty as any other of losing sight of that quality, of judging, or measuring, comparing, to what-if-ing.

–Selma, Alabama, walking across the bridge, taking in the harsh history, being reminded of the redemptive power of hope.

–Driving for two and a half days across Texas in torrential, sideways rains. After my experience in April, when I hydroplaned and went down into a ditch (likely having hit a dead animal or some object on Highway 220 during the evening and heavy storms) I’ve been anxious about driving during those same conditions, even pulling off the road to wait out rains normally not problematic. I would have lost almost three days of driving had I waited for all the rains to pass, so I was able to get more comfortable driving through heavy rains again. Although I was not doing it at dark, it was pretty good post trauma work as I am now able to drive comfortably during reasonable amounts of heavy rain.

–Staying two night in a motel in Marathon, TX, instead of camping. Ongoing torrential rains. See above. Time to just stop moving, do some writing, communicate, walk around when it wasn’t raining. I got one great day in Big Bend National Park, and that was worth it.

–Big Bend National Park. I could’ve stayed a week and not properly seen it all, but I had a great day with perfect weather and a few nice photos out of the bunch.

–Carlsbad Caverns, wandering down the mile and a half path, slippery with bat guano, to the “Big Room” which is the size of 14 football fields. I’d been there about 15 years ago and wished to see it again. So I did.

–Alamogordo, New Mexico, White Sands National Monument, New Mexico Museum of Space History, crossing the wide open spaces, staying at the cleanest, comfiest motel sojourn over my entire two month adventure (White Sands Motel, the one with the old fashioned lit up sign out front). Good price, too, with a decent continental breakfast. I liked it so much that when I needed to make a huge detour to avoid highly inclement weather on the way back from Southeastern CA, I decided to go back through there so I could stop and rest at that motel.

–Las Cruces and Old Mesilla, New Mexico, with my beeline (chile line?) to Andele Restaurant for my much-missed taste of Hatch chile in a comfort food style stew, a stroll around the historic Mesilla Plaza, all served to add a bit of enchantment to my travels, in “Tierra del Encanto”.

–Camping and hiking in the Cochise Stronghold, Coronado National Forest, Southeast Arizona. This was, in fact, a true highlight. With no perceptible wind and no threat of rain, and a cozy sleeping bag for a 40s degrees night, I was able to enjoy sleeping under the stars in my mesh sided lightweight tent. I hope to return there again.

–Engaging with Humane Borders, Inc. and Joel Smith, operations manager. We were a good match: me, for my desire to understand more about the work they do, and to experience it firsthand, and he, desiring to share this story and this life with anyone showing a genuine interest and concern. It was a priceless experience and I share my experience both in writing (see Borders and Borderlines on this website) and with anyone seemingly remotely interested in hearing about it.

From here, I had to admit that I am more of a social butterfly than I would have people believe! Graciously hosted by the marvelous Michele, I was able to also have great visits with Sara, Susanna, Ken, Bob, and Janet, in and around the metro Phoenix area. Great conversation, food, sightseeing (who knew there is now a reason to walk around downtown Mesa?) over a several day period. I was able to spend a whole day with my dear friend Sharon, with Ken and John joining us for lunch. Sharon was one of the first people I’d met when I lived in Phoenix back in 1990, and we’ve remained friends ever since. We don’t see each other often, but when we do it is incredible how we just seem to pick up where we left off. Leaving from Phoenix, I drove the alternate way over the White Mountains region and had a lovely visit with Becky and her husband Scott. Again, conversation, great food prepared by Becky, a walk around a nearby lake, and a good night’s sleep, had me on my way to Northern New Mexico.

I stayed for a night with Teresa at her home in the Barelas neighborhood of Albuquerque. It was a wonderful evening and morning of conversation and reflection. She has a wonderful traditional style home, and it was a pleasure to spend time with Teresa, and to just be there in that space.

Continuing north on I-25, I arrived in Santa Fe. I had been to both Santa Fe and Taos in the past, but was unaware that two friends from high school, who’d shared some great times with me over the years, were now living in these towns. Laurie lives in Santa Fe with her teenage daughter, and we had hours to catch up on our lives while I was there. We went out partying a few nights, the first just the two of us to hear her boyfriend, Tom, play in one of the bands he is in around the area. Tom is super, and it was a pleasure to meet him and hear him play in both a more modern music band as well as in a traditional jazz band a couple of nights later. Two of the three nights we went out, Alex, who lives in Taos, joined us. I hadn’t seen either of them in well over 15 years! It was fantastic to see them again. After four days in Santa Fe, Alex picked me up (we were worried about my Civic handling his off-roads, and in hindsight, for good reason) and we drove up to his home above Taos. Alex is a woodworker, and more than that, he can fix just about anything. He built his home on the side of the mountain, off-grid and fully solar. He gave me the royal tour of the area, a mix of scenic wonders and cool bars and restaurants. We spent time with his girlfriend, Janet, who is a sweetheart. Perhaps the best part of the visit, though, was the time we got to just talk about all kinds of things, sitting in his home, listening to music, getting deep into some topics. Those were some very special days, with Laurie and with Alex. Oh, lest I forget: Madrid, NM. A special highlight. J

–Rhyolite NV, Tecopa CA, China Ranch Badlands, Mojave Preserve, Nipton CA, these are some of my favorite spots in the United States, for disappearing off the grid (or nearly so) sometimes for days at a time. I had not planned to travel to California on this journey, but in speaking with Laurie in Santa Fe about the pull this region has on me, and her reminder that it was a lot closer to Santa Fe than Asheboro, North Carolina, I decided to make the 13 drive to spend a few days in the desert. I could and probably should write more about that, but suffice to say it was worth all the added hours behind the wheel to soak in the hot springs pool and wander the desert land. There was one day when the winds were so intense and relentless that I could not keep my little tent up and had to sleep in the car. All part of the experience.

–Norman, Oklahoma is the home of my new friend Laura and her family. Niece to my good friend Beth, she welcomed me on my eastward trek. In fact, Beth’s mom was visiting at the time, so it was fun to see her there and get to know Beth’s family a little better. Laura and her husband own a horse farm. She might be one of the hardest working people I know. After putting in a full day’s work in OKC, she give riding lessons on her farm, and then tends to all the tasks necessary before bedtime. She spends time with her young daughter, bathing and reading and putting to bed, then getting to bed before it’s time to start all over again. A dream comes with much hard work, but she loves what she does. I was also able to have a wonderful visit with my friend Vernice, who lives nearby. We’d only know each other virtually until this recent visit, so it was really special!

–Arkansas, where I was able to stop and pay a visit to the Clinton Center in Little Rock (worth one’s time!) is the home of two friends I’ve only known on Facebook until this trip. Jeanie invited me to her and her daughter’s home for a night, and we had a great day together. Her grandson is the best! The next morning we met up with Jeanie’s sister Margaret and we went out for breakfast together. I really like both of those ladies. At Margaret’s suggestion, I made a quick stop in Fayetteville and walked around the town center. I could see that there were strings of lights all over the trees, and when I saw photos shared by them later of the sight of them all lit up for Christmas, I wished I’d been there a little later in the season. Glorious! Arkansas is beautiful. I need more time there, next time.

–Tennessee was scheduled full. I visited the National Civil Rights museum in Memphis and was glad for the suggestion from my friend Debra R. back in North Carolina. Powerful record of events! I headed that evening to see Ricci and Leigh Ann. They have a beautiful home and made sure I felt quite comfortable. We went to Beale Street in Memphis one night, to make sure I’d get a taste of that classic Memphis scene. From there, I had a number of Tennessee stops: Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville, where I was a cochlear implant research subject for a few days, and where I had dinner one evening with Jennifer, Diana, Dennis, and Emma. Such fun! Onward to Chattanooga, where I spent two nights with Ruth and Gary. Always gracious and ever helpful, I was able to bounce ideas off of them for my future planning once I returned home. I visited with Laurie and Steve in Maryville. As always, Laurie and I had some great conversations, and we went for a scenic drive near the Smoky Mountains one afternoon. As I prepared to leave town, I did one of those check-in posts on Facebook about getting my car oil changed. I got a message from Bill D. asking if we might meet for lunch. Such great timing! Bill, his partner Emalie, and I had a wonderful lunch together before I headed out of town.

I was able to enjoy a few more stops in North and South Carolina before heading back for the duration: hot springs in the mountains, an invite to stop by for a plate on Thanksgiving by Eric, a fun weekend in the Charleston area with Beth, Nancy, Steve, Alex, Savannah, and with Carol and Bruce. Then, it was back to the business of discovering what my next life chapter will look like.

It was all the best part.

Sights, Sounds, and Memories

14 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by in camping, Cochise Stronghold, Cochlear Implant and Hearing, death and dying, healing, recovery, sound, Spirituality, Travel, Uncategorized

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2015-10-13 16.19.55I had the great pleasure of hiking and camping in mid-October at the Cochise Stronghold campground, in the Dragoon Mountains within the Coronado National Forest in southeastern Arizona. I arrived late morning, and enjoyed a hike before setting up camp. At 5,000 feet, it gets chilly once the sun sets at that time of year, but the granite walls and sheer cliffs that surround the campground act to reduce winds that might otherwise make tent camping a bit uncomfortable overnight. With virtually no chance of rain, and little to no perceptible wind, I was able to enjoy a rain tarp-free experience, hunkering down into my sleeping bag as I peered through the mesh of my tent and watched the sky darken and fill with stars. At early morning, I was able to view the sky as it lightened and the sun came over the cliffs, the stars fading from view. I shared the entire campground with just one other camper. He arrived about an hour before sunset. I had two thoughts when he pulled in: “aw, I thought I’d have the place to myself tonight!”, and “should I be concerned?” My gut said it would be fine, that he was just camping out like me, and I was correct. We spoke briefly upon his arrival, then went about our respective business.

I had been sitting and eating my dinner when he pulled into the site. As there is no water whatsoever at that campground, I didn’t attempt to cook rice or pasta or anything that would’ve made excessive demands on my water supply (cooking and cleaning). I boiled some water, first for coffee, which I enhanced with a shot of bourbon, and then boiled more water to heat up a food packet filled with a tasty Indian spiced side dish. With that, some crackers and nuts, and the brew, I was set. While I ate, I wrote down some of my thoughts and feelings about the recent death of an old friend. Betty and I met when I was at college in upstate New York. The mom of the young man I became engaged to (but did not marry), we were close for many years beyond that time. I felt like an extended family member for a long time. Circumstance and distance changed things about 10 years ago, but we remained friendly, with my link to her eldest son keeping me abreast of developments when her health took a serious turn for the worse. Pancreatic cancer ultimately took her from this life. She died a few days after I started my journey, days before I arrived at this stronghold. I felt her presence as I sat on the bench, eating my simple meal and writing about her, about who she was as I understood her, and about her influence on my life. She taught me many things about relationships, family, devotion, and the little things that people do for each other to show love. She had a faith in God that I did not fully understand, yet I loved being around that part of her, because I felt like whatever it was that made her so special was intricately woven by that fabric, and I hoped it would rub off on me. I think it did, somewhat.

I heard so many birds calling as sunset came to the campground. Earlier in the afternoon, there were two woodpeckers nearby just having a ball, flitting here and there, banging away at trees, squawking, looking askance, I’d swear, at my feeble attempts to photograph them, to capture a focused shot or two. As I listened to the sounds around me, I remembered how thrilled Betty was for me at the success of my first cochlear implant, the technology that has allowed me to hear again after decades of severe hearing impairment. A musician, it must’ve saddened her more than she let on that I was losing my connection with the hearing world, especially with music. So as I retired to the camp tent for the night, I reflected on how much she meant to me, and how she made me feel like I mattered to her, and how cheered she would be to know that I could hear all those marvelous, musical sounds in the natural world again.2015-10-13 17.27.25

Borders and Borderlines

16 Friday Oct 2015

Posted by in immigration, migration

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border wall looking to Mexico

While traveling through the Southwest this week, I had the privilege of experiencing glimpses of the work done by Humane Borders, Inc. The main office is located in South Tucson, Arizona, but the humanitarian work that they do requires that they travel many miles from town, near and around the border with Mexico. The day before, I’d met with Joel Smith, Operations Manager, for breakfast, and attended a volunteer meeting later in the day. I had the opportunity to meet Juanita Molina, the Executive Director, and many of the compassionate and passionate volunteers that do the hard work of providing water and basic supports to migrants as they cross the desert.

Well aware that I have readers who take issue with migrants crossing the border and living in the United States as undocumented persons, I offer this: regardless of where you stand on the issue of immigration, one thing is crystal clear: people seeking a better life for their families will continue to migrate here. They will take every risk to their lives to have the chance to improve the quality of life for their loved ones.

The efforts made by Humane Borders and their counterpart humanitarian groups is driven by a basic principle: to do what is morally right. Knowingly turning a blind eye to people dying of thirst in the desert is not an option. Founded in June 2000, their mission statement reads:

“Humane Borders, motivated by faith, offers humanitarian assistance to those in need through the deployment of emergency water stations on routes known to be used by migrants coming north through our desert. Our sole mission is to take death out of the immigration equation. Our water tanks are on a combination of private and public lands. In all cases we have permission to locate our water stations on these lands in writing from the landowners.”

The leaders at the organization have done incredible work in building relationships with the enforcement agencies that have their own set of rules to follow with regards to migrant activity, including the U.S. Border Patrol, Arizona Game and Fish Department, among others.

I spent a day on the road with Joel, who needed to check several water stations and change out flags. The blue flags are erected high so that those who are walking through the desert are able to locate the water stations. Even for those who don’t know of the stations, the flags can act as markers for those who may walk towards it seeking assistance. The travel is largely off road once out of town, and the routes are steep, pitted, narrow, and rocky. One must have a solid 4×4 vehicle and a good command of its handling to get to these remote locations. Consider, then, what it’s like to traverse the same routes on foot, with little resources to sustain oneself. Imagine the determination that drives a person forward in the face of these challenges.

I became privy to a wealth of knowledge on the history and culture of the region, and the nuances of engagement, thanks to my guide. After checking some water stations and swapping out a well-worn flag at one site, we continued on and reached the border fence. It is, frankly, a monstrosity, a huge blight on an otherwise gorgeous desert landscape. I look in the direction of Mexico, through the fence, and see open spaces and a wide range of cacti, plants, grasses, and birds. I turn my back to the fence and see the exact same scene, a virtual mirror image. In this place, it becomes ever more apparent how arbitrary the line is, how absurd the effort, for the fence does not do the job that it was designed for: it does not keep people from seeking a better life.

On the last portion of the run, where we needed to pick up some water barrels that needed to be swapped out from a site, we traveled up a steep incline and into view came a rugged outpost of sorts. This was the safe station set up by No More Deaths, another humanitarian group in the desert which works to stop the deaths of migrants in the desert. They are an official ministry of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Tucson. I introduced myself to two young men who were organizing activities, and took a walk around the space. All the essentials were there for basic living supports. 

As we drove across the desert, we spoke about other things as well, including our shared passion for photography. I noted how beautiful the scenery around us was, and how these are the spaces that I most enjoy wandering and taking photographs. Joel agreed wholeheartedly that though it is, indeed, a beautiful place, “It is also a lonely place to die.”

For more information, including ways to support:

http://www.humaneborders.org/

http://forms.nomoredeaths.org/en/

border wall with Joel Smith

No More Deaths welcome sign up on the hill

Days Ahead

09 Friday Oct 2015

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Some of you are aware that I made the decision to leave my job last week. It had been time for a change, time to have time to do some of the other things that are important to me. I am on a road trip now, with day three just about under my belt. I’ve covered over 1600 miles so far, some of them through torrential rains. Lots of time to think, and I’ve got a bunch of notes already, but tonight I thought I’d share something I’d forgotten I’d stored under the notes application on my phone. I wish I’d taken a photo after the rains today, it would’ve fit perfectly!

January 2015:

days ahead

decisions

time to get unstuck

new truths expressed

untangling of ties

strengthening what needs bonding

scared

sad

recognition of the path

the fog has lifted

Community and Hope

29 Monday Jun 2015

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Mother Emanuel June 24 2015 photo by Beth Summers

(Services outside Mother Emanuel AME Church, Charleston, SC 6-24-15)

“I stood between a black man and a black lady right in front of the church. Holding their hands in worship, singing and praying together. They are no longer my “black” friends, they are my friends.”

That quote is from a conversation my friend Beth and I have been carrying on over these difficult and remarkable days. In an act of blatant racist hatred, one white man entered the historic Mother Emanuel AME church in Charleston, South Carolina, sat for an hour with a bible study group and then opened fire on the participants, all of whom were black. He killed nine church members, including the pastor, the Reverend Senator Clementa Pinckney.

The city of Charleston, and indeed the whole of the country, has reeled from the impact. The efforts to understand, explain, categorize, this one event have been astounding. There are those who call it an act of terrorism, others who suggest that the killer was mentally disturbed. The collective pain of those who recognize in it how far we have yet to go in this country to experience a deep healing and respect for all regardless of color or creed is palpable.

On a personal level, I immediately wondered what my friend Beth, born and raised in South Carolina, was thinking about what was going on in her hometown. Beth has lived all but a few years of her life in the Charleston area, and takes tremendous pride in being a Southern woman. We are something of a study in contrasts, as I am one of those “damned Yankees”, never mind that I have lived elsewhere than my native New York City for a good part of my life. I am also Jewish, and I am reasonably certain that Judaism is a relative mystery to her. Though we have spoken frankly with one another about many things, in the wake of the church shooting, with the killer’s white supremacist motivation, I wondered what I would discover in my friend, now that her beloved hometown was under a microscope and caught in the high beams.

I think that sharing some of our conversation, conveyed through written messages, does a better job of telling than I could do on my own. Shared with Beth’s permission. Photo credit: Beth Summers

At Mother Emanuel AME church for services in the days before Reverend Pinckney’s funeral:

Wonderful evening! So glad I went. I debated because I knew it would be very late getting home, but it was so worth it. Not in my dreams would I have imagined, even one week ago, that there would be such a gathering at Marion Square. All ages and races gathered together. I stood between a black man and a black lady right in front of the church. Holding their hands in worship, singing and praying together. Yes, they are no longer my “black” friends, they are my friends. I saw a white minister break down and beg his “colored” brothers and sisters to forgive him, and he repented for his sins. A woman walked up to him hugged him and told him “I forgive you”, and one by one most did the same. The outpouring of forgiveness was incredible. There were about 10 different ministers from all denominations, and each spoke briefly. Very powerful experience! So proud of the unity, and proud to be a part of it.

On the Confederate flag:

So, Strom Thurmond’s son, Senator Paul Thurmond, has called for the Confederate flag to come down. I am really shocked about that, as well as about many of the others who are changing their views. It won’t be an easy battle for them. McConnell made sure when it was moved in 2000 that it would be almost impossible to touch it again. But there is hope!

Did I tell you my family has one of the Confederate flags that flew over the Capitol Dome? Yep, about $2,000 was bid for it. They changed it out each day and donors were able to take them home.

(Deb: Wow! That’s incredible. So, where is it now?)

I need to ask Alex. It has to be somewhere in his home. It’s properly folded and encased in a frame, where it belongs, just like the one flying in Columbia. That needs to be placed in a museum.

From the Post and Courier: http://www.postandcourier.com/article/20150623/PC16/150629748/1006/paul-thurmond-calls-for-flag-to-come-down

Reflections on racial tensions in the past, and parallel experiences as an “out” lesbian:

I still recall a day about 20 years ago. I walked into my own church, and I could feel the uneasiness among those gathered outside the sanctuary. I heard whispering and even one say, “I will not go in there today”. As I entered I looked around and I saw a young black girl sitting with the daughter of one of the members, along with several other young girls. The girl had a slumber party the night before, and brought all her friends to church. I was shocked by the fact that so many reacted so strongly to this. Unfortunately, the attitude of that church remains the same today. It is somewhat better due to implementing the Upward basketball program and all are invited for that, but their feelings about the actual worship hall remains the same. Then there is the fact that the last time I attended a worship service there, only one lady spoke to me. That was after Bill and I split, and they all found out I was a lesbian. I no longer felt welcome. I did attend the service when Alex did part of the sermon not too long ago, as well as for Bill’s funeral and the funeral for the father of a friend of mine. Many speak with me now, but I still don’t feel welcome. I started thinking about all that last night and how prejudiced and narrow thinking that church is even today. It’s sad. But there is always hope, there must be hope for change.

Services outside Mother Emanuel June 21 2015 by Beth Summers

(Services outside of Mother Emanuel AME Church 6-21-15)

Retreat weekend with MDSA–brief thoughts

30 Thursday Apr 2015

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Ocean Grove MDSA weekend 2015

I think I am going to need some time to process my experience at the retreat I attended this past weekend with Making Daughters Safe Again (MDSA). I would like to share a little bit now, and then more as I see things more clearly. Ten of us, survivors of mother-daughter sexual abuse, along with licensed, clinical therapists and interns did incredible work on the range of issues that confront us as survivors. We had a beautiful space to do the work, a lovely Inn at the Jersey shore.

One of the last things we did as a group, on Sunday morning, was open up boxes that were filled with cards on which we had written notes to each other throughout the weekend. I have taken the notes and compiled the various comments into what feels like a short letter from one person to me. Somehow, it feels more powerful to look at them collectively, although the individual messages are heartfelt and deeply appreciated.

Deborah,

Congratulations on making it through your first retreat! I’m so glad you were able to attend. It was an honor to be a part of your journey. From the first time I saw you, I thought “what a kind smile she has”. As the weekend went on I saw that it was a reflection of who you are, considerate of others and very kind. You were always so affirming and had a warm spirit. My wish for you is that you are on the receiving end of the same, especially from significant others. The way you talked to your mother during the empty chair exercise was amazing! Thank you so much for your bravery in that exercise. It was powerful. I find your courage to share your experiences in an open way incredibly inspiring. I was encouraged to share more and be more vulnerable by your wonderful example. I am so glad I met you. You have inspired me. Your insights were spot on. Thank you for being so open! I was so touched when you shared about your grandfather after I read my letter to my grandmother. I could tell that you truly understood exactly how I was feeling. I hope you will come back. It was great getting to know you. I look forward to seeing you next year.

Repost at Stir Journal: On Forgiveness, Trust, and Desire (Part Two)

29 Saturday Nov 2014

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Continuing with the re-posting of my essays run at Stir Journal (www.stirjournal.com) I offer the link to Part Two here. I encourage readers to spend time at Stir Journal. They are doing some important and creative work!

http://www.stirjournal.com/2014/11/28/my-stir-on-forgiveness-trust-and-desire-part-two/

On Forgiveness, Trust, and Desire (Part Two)

19 Friday Sep 2014

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Entangled in Chaos by JEA 9-2013 part two Forgiveness Trust and Desire

I do some of my best thinking while I’m in the shower. Surely that’s not an uncommon thing. Maybe it’s the warm water coursing over the body, relaxing the muscles and releasing tension that may also be locking up thought processes. Anyway, one recent morning my mind wandered over to an essay that I had written, at that point, nearly a year ago. The piece itself is not very lengthy, but it took the better part of my life to be ready to formulate those sentences and share them with, at least theoretically, the whole world. In it, I spoke of my experience as a survivor of mother-daughter sexual abuse. Here is the link to that piece, if you wish to read it. Although this piece stands on its own, reading the earlier essay can put the current piece into perspective: https://visionsofsong.com/2013/09/04/on-forgiveness-trust-and-desire-part-one/

As in Part One, we are now in the period of days prior to the Jewish New Year during which we are mindful of the need to reflect on the past year, on situations in which we may have harmed others, and those in which we have been harmed. We make sincere offers of apology and pleas for forgiveness. We open our hearts to accept apology offered to us, and grant forgiveness for trespasses we have endured. In the earlier essay I have spoken about the internal struggle I have had in trying to find a way towards forgiveness of my mother’s abusive, harmful actions towards me. Those actions which were not limited to abuse of a sexual nature, but for many reasons, my perception, my reality, is that it was those that caused the gravest harm to me. I will be 51 years old next month, and I am only fairly recently moving towards a habituation of love and appreciation for myself and having a relatively balanced sense of comfort in my own skin.

I’d had an expectation of myself after sharing that essay. I anticipated taking a few months to let the feeling of having put it all out there become more natural, after fielding the comments from readers both publicly shared and privately messaged. I sat down and began to write no fewer than half a dozen times between December and July, but barely got started before I got stuck and had to walk away. I was doing a lot of emotional work during that time, which I will touch on here, but I could not get my next set of thoughts to flow. I realized I didn’t know what I wanted to accomplish. I thought, well, maybe that’s all there was? Maybe that’s all I needed to do? It didn’t resonate with me, though, given the rich inner experiences I was having around healing.

Then, with a head of hair full of Pert shampoo, I began to reflect on some work done by Desmond Tutu and his daughter Mpho Tutu. The Forgiveness Challenge is a sensitive, thoughtful, and structured approach to forgiveness. I shall not spend a lot of time describing their work, but I will share the link and encourage you to check it out. It is eye-opening and potentially life changing healing work from two people who know more than a little about the need to forgive. http://forgivenesschallenge.com/  I am in the process of working through the steps, and I read a few pages of their related (but not required) book, The Book of Forgiving. Just prior to my introduction to The Forgiveness Challenge, I had engaged in a series of sessions with a local and very skilled practitioner of EFT. Emotional Freedom Technique. Here again I will not go into tremendous depth about the practice, although you must feel free to send me a message if you have questions. I am generally skeptical about such alternative techniques that make claims that cannot readily be scientifically defended. I suspended judgment because I was curious about it after having a long conversation with the practitioner in an unrelated setting, and because I was in a lot of pain and the idea of freeing up some of that stuff that was holding me back was very tempting. In the end, I found it to be unexpectedly helpful, in that it gave me some language and tools to use to reorient myself and focus my responses to my emotional reactions.

As I rinsed out my hair (which I’ve mentioned elsewhere that I’m allowing to grow longer and wilder by the day) and thought about these different experiences of not merely thinking about forgiveness, but building the skills I seem to lack around relationships, and I had a sudden realization that the next part, and the next essay, would relate the complexity of Trust and Desire in the context of healing from abuse, and about how it is about nothing less than forgiveness: what it is, what it looks like and feels like and how the process of forgiving another for serious transgressions such as child abuse, spousal abuse, hate crimes, is as much about building the framework for healing oneself from the damage of shame, guilt, layers of secrets and self-loathing as it does about freeing the other from the shackles they wear as a result of their crimes—both metaphorical and (occasionally) literal.

As I did with the first essay on the subject, I have borrowed (with permission) a photo taken by friend and nature photographer Eric Abernethy. He has done some remarkable photographic work with birds, turtles, beavers, and a host of others on Lake Lucas, and more recently wanders deep in the Sandhills region of North Carolina capturing phenomenal images of snakes, frogs, and other delights. It’s his imagery from the lake that resonates so strongly for me around this subject: in the first, the mirror work from the dark places, swimming deep and desperate for a lungful of air, and in this, a tangle of thatch, leaves, webs, yet there is sunlight shining through the in-between places. I get the sense of coming up for air: still not in the clear but there is ample reason to be hopeful. The surface is about to be broken.