As often happens when a diary grows too long for comfortable reading, I’ve found it necessary to rewrite it, and edit out all but the most important themes to me. While considering the inherent difficulties of reducing firearms violence in this nation by the most prevalent ‘fixes’ discussed in the media and in the liberal blogosphere: gun control and mental health ‘help’, I collected a lot of links to facts and opinions on both. Most data collection and op-eds were spurred, of course, by the heinous mass murder of innocents at Sandy Hook elementary. Rather than loading this post up with worthy considerations, allow me to shorthand most of it with links.
Mother Jones has compiled information on the past three decades’ worth of mass murders and spree killings here; they report that ‘a majority of the shooters were mentally ill’, and ‘had exhibited signs’ of such prior to the shootings. The Guardian has an interactive US states map of gun crime statistics as well as admittedly incomplete global statistics. For those of you interested in how FBI instant background checks work, and especially the category three-fourths of the way down the page: Categories of Persons Prohibited from Receiving, it’s here. Note that the mental health prohibitions are pretty narrow, as they perhaps should be, lest the FBI be privy to prescription databases. There are plenty of videos and printed material concerning SSRI antidepressants and increased violence; I’ve even been involved in some online discussions about neuroscience and the illusion of free will’ (Sam Harris).
The theme concerning our nation being engaged in perpetual war as being related to our tolerance, or often even reverence for military violence is a worthy one, as studies have shown a correlation between the two. But that still doesn’t get to the point of asking why ours is such a violent society, or even aside from the profitability of Incessant War, why so many of our ruling elites either love or don’t mind killing, and extol the virtues of torture and drone assassinations, as do far too many of our citizens.
Even as experts theorize that the glorified violence in movies, television programs and video games may play a part, few seem to ask what drives the desire to watch or play, even become immersed in those socially bankrupt genres?
Of the many pieces I’ve read that offered some counter-arguments to the conventional fixes of mass murders and gun violence, this piece by Mike King at Counterpunch; he’s done a lot of research at the intersection of mental health and criminality, including soldiers. It’s a great piece, even though King may cause you some discomfort as he pricks some holes in your/our sacred cows by showing the many historical and current social injustices that have been created by even what he calls ‘well-meaning’ legislative fixes.
King’s piece comes the closest to what I see as a brief but careful analysis of the situation, but still…I’d like to look even further behind the American Curtain of mistrust, fear and violence that is so endemic to our society.
While the many beliefs of how individual consciences develop (or don’t) are too broad a discussion for this post, the general definition of conscience is that with which we make moral judgments as to Right and Wrong, to which can be added: experience remorse when we act in ways that work against our moral principles. Religious views are even more complicated than philosophical/psychological ones, since the divine is involved. In most psycho-social models, I think it’s safe to say that as an infant’s brain and awareness develops the most rapidly over its first three or four years, that each experience is imprinted for better or worse, on the child. Attachment theory, or bonding with at least one primary caregiver, as a basis for learning to trust that a warm someone can be trusted to provide the care (physical and emotional) required for the infant to thrive and learn and become self-aware and authentic as it individuates from its caregiver/s or parent/s, ventures out on its own both physically and figuratively, and finds a secure base on its return. Trust, learning, and beneficial deeds are rewarded, thus imprinted, and if parenting is consistent, warm and stimulative/creative, so much the better. And of course the importance of warm and loving touch can’t be overstated.
There are many schools of thought that violence and psychopathology are bio-determined (one example), and clearly in cases of brain abnormalities, that’s possible. This post will consider the experiential ones.
Poisonous Pedagogy
Polish Ph.D. and author Alice Miller (1923-2010) rejected her lengthy practice of Freudian analysis and spent the next decades of her life immersed in the childhood causes of psychopathic violence and cruelty later in life, as well as early experiential causes of simple neuroses and personality disorders. There are others who’ve written extensively about Trauma models, but for the purposes of this post, I’ll use her body of work since it was so extensive and familiar to me. It happened that much of my life was spent in researching answers to questions she and many others wrote convincingly about, although many of their conclusions have been reviled and rejected as heresy against conventional psychiatry. She understood the great backlash against her conclusions and activism well, and grasped that only those who reflected on their own childhoods honestly could hope to embrace them. It’s Miller’s belief that most all psychiatric models fail mightily in rejecting childhood treatment as the key to later mental health status and interpersonal relationships, which has allowed parental and institutional cruelty to flourish for far too long.
Essentially, she believed that when children were either neglected, abused physically and/or emotionally, and reared in accordance with a ‘might makes right’ authoritarianism, they weren’t able to build authentic selves, the natural ones that were instead stifled, preventing the victimized children giving voice to their emotions, personal truths and creativity. She described how personally empowering the simplest loving kindness is, and how toxic the long term effects of withholding it, or worse, being ruled by punishment, rather than simple discipline, meaning teaching…or learned personal developmental accountability…is.
She describes the various voices we often hear in our heads, chiding us, disempowering us, creating shame or guilt reflexively, based on nothing more than negative imprints, rather than negative deeds, which some religions call sins. Her belief was that one of the most toxic dictates of religion was the ‘honor thy father and thy mother’, and by extension, all adults, rules, rather than the opposite: ‘Honor thy children, for they will inherit the world, and must needs be ready to be able to perceive truth, behave lovingly, with dignity, act cooperatively for all, and to be creative and honest in their communications with others’. Or something like that. ;o)
At the further end of childhood abuse is the dislocating and often ruinous practice of hurting children, sexually abusing them, or creating such fear in them that their bodies, brains, and even cells…record and remember the abuse, and become central to their perceptions of others and their social interactions. (My apologies; I seem unable to write along that road much further, but your imagination will fill in the blanks I’ve left with your own knowledge.) Author Ron Kurtz, from whom I took classes and had personal sessions, explained in both The Body Reveals and his Hakomi Therapy manuals that our bodies respond to negative influences by tightening muscles in certain areas to desensitize us from emotional pain. The body doesn’t lie. An easy example would be if a toddler reached toward his/her caregiver for help, food, anything, and were regularly smacked for it….that child would begin to build tensions around its heart area to protect it; another might ‘armor’ its solar plexus to dull constant fear, etc. Great emotional burdens unresolved can lead to hunched shoulders (kyphosis), a fear-driven bully might stand with elbows cocked, ready to ‘draw on’ the next person he/she meets.
Of course there are varying degrees of silencing or manipulating children to bend their wills through coercion and deception, but she and her mentor Katharina Rutschky named both the individual and institutionalized practices poisonous pedagogy. She explains that since children are pretty much hard-wired to love their parents, they tend to internalize abuse or neglect as their own fault, and repress their anger, hurt and indignity where unless one day let out into the light of day, it brews more poisons that will one day be heaped on others, as in bullying, coercion, revenge, and violence, either latent or actual, and/or turned inward, creating depression, shame and guilt, most of which stays buried and unrecognized (repressed), ‘poisonous perpetrators and voices’, unidentified.
Miller says that one of the worst themes that’s been perpetuated over time is the notion that authoritarianism and corporal punishment has been institutionalized in most schools, and is touted as ‘for the child’s own good’. Additionally, as I mentioned earlier, she’s even found a lot of resistance to the dangers of spanking and hitting from parents who were hit or maltreated as children, which she wrote about, and Arthur Silber (the Power of Narrative), featured in one of his many essays on her work. The resistance often goes: ‘Look at me; I was spanked, and I’m fine’. She guesses that since most psychiatric therapeutic models are based on blaming us as victims, and hastening ‘forgiveness’, far too many of us will be, and are, taking medications to alleviate the symptoms of toxic parenting and institutional authoritarianism, rather than being willing to do the hard work of remembering what we were encouraged to forget.
Most severely abused children, of course, didn’t turn into monsters, and are able to have loving relationships, even though they may need to deal with plenty of emotional baggage, as most of us do. Miller writes of the crucial ‘helping witness’, a figure that is unable to rescue a child, but provides enough love and consistent attention that the child can learn some measure of trust in others; it might have been another adult, or even a sibling who helped to ameliorate much of the potential damage of abuse. Those who grew up without helping witnesses can benefit tremendously from ‘enlightened witnesses’, or those who intimately understand the consequences of child abuse, and can encourage us to find their own inner truths, thus neutralizing their needs to inflict hurt on others or themselves, and instead building healthy relationships.
From Alice Miller:
I have wrongly been attributed the thesis according to which every victim inevitably becomes a persecutor, a thesis that I find totally false, indeed absurd. It has been proved that many adults have had the good fortune to break the cycle of abuse through knowledge of their past. Yet I can certainly aver that I have never come across persecutors who weren’t victims in their childhood, though most of them don’t know it because their feelings are repressed. The less these criminals know about themselves, the more dangerous they are to society. So I think it is crucial for the therapist to grasp the difference between the statement, “every victim ultimately becomes a persecutor,” which is false, and “every persecutor was a victim in his childhood,” which I consider true. The problem is that, feeling nothing, he remembers nothing, realizes nothing, and this is why surveys don’t always reveal the truth.
Of the 192 nations worldwide, only 32 have outlawed corporal punishment; in the US, nineteen states still permit children to be beaten, and some states describe the permissible protocols for abuse as punishment ‘for the child’s own good’.
As an aside, neither Miller nor most shrinks I’ve read seem to consider how psychologically poisonous grandparents can also be, all the more powerful in that we are led to believe that grandparents always offer unconditional love and support.
Re: the young, socially marginalized profiles of mass murders:
When I began to consider some of the apparent characteristics of Dylan Klebold, Eric Harris, and Adam Lanza, my mind got stuck on their marginalized-loners status at school. All were considered to be weird, geeks, Goths, any of that. I remembered William Pollack who’d written Real Boys : Rescuing Our Sons from the Myths of Boyhood; the blurb:
Based on William Pollack’s groundbreaking research at Harvard Medical School over two decades, Real Boys explores why many boys are sad, lonely, and confused although they may appear tough, cheerful, and confident. Pollack challenges conventional expectations about manhood and masculinity that encourage parents to treat boys as little men, raising them through a toughening process that drives their true emotions underground. Only when we understand what boys are really like, says Pollack, can we help them develop more self-confidence and the emotional savvy they need to deal with issues such as depression, love and sexuality, drugs and alcohol, divorce, and violence.
In a short video, Pollack rued the fact that young men are encouraged to ‘suck it up’, never ask for help as it’s a sign of weakness, and above all, never admit to being in pain or fear, which conversations could be healing for them. In a staggering statistic, he claims that between the ages of ten and nineteen, boys commit suicide four times as often as girls.
What can we do about any of this? For one, honor our children and grandchildren as they learn to navigate themselves and the world. We can act as helping or enlightened witnesses to others; some counties have organizations like Big Brothers and Sisters, or Partners, teaming adults with trouble teens; and encourage people to lovingly discipline their children. Perhaps most importantly, we can speak truth to our friends and relatives, and bring light to the shallow and false mythologies families often promote down the generations. Secrets held inside us have immense power to poison our souls and psyches. I submit that honest dialogues are supremely loving acts, and can be healing tonics, as can apologizing earnestly to our children and grandchildren when we screw up and dishonored ourselves, temporarily forgetting our love, as Alice Miller says. We can make community, and try to behave lovingly and honestly even with those we don’t care for. Most of don’t have the money to spend on therapy, but we do have each other.
A good winter solstice day to you. The Maya(ns) believe this day is about the potential for a rebirth of humanity, and may bring an increased global awakening of consciousness that will cause us to turn away from the production of weapons to building things that will help us (video) and each other.




68 Comments

Yes.
Your diary made me think of Irene Pepperberg’s wonderful memoir, Alex And Me, in which she spends many early pages describing her wretched childhood in Brooklyn.
(Scroll down to read the book’s description.)
Maybe her crap childhood caused her to seek bonding with a higher species… ;o) I thought I’d remembered seeing videos of Alex and Irene. ;o)
wendydavis, I think of you as an “enlightened witness” – I didn’t realize that’s what it was called, but there you have it. This diary is very meaningful to me, but you probably knew that. :)
My childhood is whole ‘nother diary (or maybe a dozen of them), but suffice it to say that I am still struggling to undo the mental and physical damage all these many years later. The idea that our bodies tighten muscles to desensitize us from emotional pain really rings true for me. The work of the authors you mention is quite similar to what I heard from my aunt, the MSW/healer/shaman who was one of my “helping witnesses.” In her early career, she worked with abused children as a county therapist and she said that the overwhelming majority of her patients said that their mother wasn’t happy, and that they’d spent the rest of their lives trying to fix that. I’ve taken that to heart again and again, reminding myself that that’s one thing I can do for my own son – be happy. Or at least try not to be so sad that he feels responsible. I can see it still happens, even though he is a grown man.
I have vivid memories of myself at about age 18, acting exactly the way my father did. I had become an angry, crazy, violent, manipulative bully; in hindsight, I wonder what might have happened if I’d had access to weapons. I think I’ve always had such an aversion to guns that I wouldn’t have gone there, but it takes very little for me to imagine how it happens, especially to boys who have no “helping witnesses,” who have been steeping in a culture of violence their whole lives – not just the secret violence in their own homes, but the glorification of it everywhere.
I could go on and on about this. Thank you for taking the time and energy to put this together; you really did leave in all the good parts. I hope people see themselves here, whether they are the grown children who can maybe go back and forgive themselves, or whether they are the parents who can see ways to be better at their job of parenting. Somebody the other day said that it would be great if the baggage we “burdened” our children with was joy and self-confidence and love and well-being.
Irene and Alex are two of my favorite people. I didn’t know she had a wretched childhood. I’ll have to read that book.
Ah, wendy, as usual your strong and powerful voice takes me along a road I did not dream to travel, especially this day! Here is as far as I got down that road.
You write:
“…what drives the desire to watch or play, even become immersed in those socially bankrupt genres? …”
My mind immediately went back, as it so often will, to a Dostoievski novel, this time “The Devils” which takes as its theme the degradation of society in tsarist times, with various young people attempting to create a new world order on the remnants of an idealistic but impotent upturning of old values.
The example I wanted to give was that of a house fire that takes place deep into the novel – where Dostoievski remarks that most people are drawn to watch it (this just from my memory) from some inner fascination with terrible events such as fires, to watch as others of their kind are dying within.
This was as far as I could go down your road, because not to honor parents and grandparents, even the most depraved of them, is not in my lexicon. Dostoievski’s final hero, Alexey, so honors his father (who has the same name as Dostoievski, and in so doing gives the needed small spark on which the novel pivots – I believe in that spark!)
I agree with you that children, in the natural course of things, are the most pure and the most innocent, and to destroy them is a depravity humans should not be capable of. They come to it having gloried in too many fires, to my way of thinking, and not because they wrongly honor their parents and grandparents. So, there is a fork in the road there, and I take the other one,( with great love and thanks for your strong writing.)
Happy Solstice!
The marginalized loner profile fits another mass shooter, who fits Newtown very closely, but isn’t mentioned: Kip Kinkel, Thurston High School. Killed his parents, then went to school and started shooting..
It’s this sense of alienation and rejection that seems closest to explaining this repeating nightmare..
PS.. Really good post, Wendy..
Gregor Samsa — now there’s a guy who honored his parents almost beyond telling. ;o)
Happy Solstice! Can Vernal Equinox be far behind?
All I can utter for now is: thank you, and that I’ll try to say more when mine eyes stop leaking so many tears. Yes, we know some of each other’s histories.
I can only speak to my own issues with “honor thy parents” (luckily my grandparents were worth honoring). Because my father was the one who was sexually abusing and beating me (beginning when I was a toddler, as far back as I can remember), it did not occur to me that I had any choice but to endure it until I was able to leave the house at age 18. And that’s what I did. At age 20 I was finally able to stop “honoring” my father and stop thinking of him as someone with power over me, as someone to whom I owed anything, when I discovered that he was also molesting my four younger sisters. It still took many more years for us to honor him the way he deserved, with a nice little cell in the state penitentiary, because my sisters were too afraid to say anything and what had happened to me was beyond the statute of limitations.
It took me another 30 years to stop honoring my mother, who aided and abetted my father and then blamed it on me. I did everything humanly possible in an attempt to get her to forgive me for what had happened. Yes, you read that right. That’s how children interpret things, especially with regard to their mothers. It was my fault that she was such a twisted psychopath that she handed me over to my father and looked the other way. Something finally snapped in me when she told me that she would have called the police when we were kids, but we had asked her not to. That and another year’s worth of therapy, once a week, finally allowed me to stop honoring her.
Irene and I grew up a few blocks apart, among some 3 million other neighbors, maybe we met. It’s a very small book but unforgettable. In the video our indefatigable host linked to, when Irene and Griffin check the email, it’s possible one of those emails was from me. Irene (I called her Dr. Pepperberg) replied right away.
You may take the wrong meaning of ‘not honoring’ them, juliania. She means that the edict covered a multitude of cruelties, including ownership and being the masters of, really. In any event, strictly speaking, expecting blind obedience ‘cuz I SAY SO’ though any cruel manipulations and quashing natural ‘selves’ is not honoring children as they should be honored, imo.
But yes; Dostoievski is one of the authors she researched for The Body Doesn’t Lie.
Thanks for the comment, and making it through such a long read…on this heartening day of days, as well. ;o)
Thank you for bringing Kip Kinkel into it, magilla. I forget, but assume that the MJ compilation included him and his victims. My guess is that his childhood was abusive, too, as Miller predicts.
And you’re welcome; I know it’s a tough subject, but it’s the one that’s been missing in all the discussions of gun violence and mass murder, imo.
That is the bravest and most truthful comment I think I’ve ever witnessed online, Miz Firecracker, and I thank you for telling us such hard things about your life. I’m so glad you’ve made your life into a glorious testament to freedom and democracy. You rock eleven ways from Sunday, I swear.
My post reflects more that it will help you to honor them for giving you life, rather than for any worth – I agree that’s very, very hard. But it isn’t helpful to dwell on the monstrous things people are capable of doing and do, in particular when your very existence has happened through them. Sorry, I don’t agree with that.
I honestly wouldn’t have wished my existence as a five- or ten- or 15-year-old on anyone. Many people who experienced what I did go on to have an even more fucked up existence as prostitutes, serial killers, or generational abusers of more and more children. Somehow I managed to avoid the worst of it, but my parents did me no favors by having a child. My father wanted a little girl to molest. My mother wanted two little girls so she could work out her own childhood issues. The aunt I mentioned was the fair-haired favorite in my mother’s household and my mother was the dark haired “stepchild.” She was determined to reverse that by having two little blonde children of her own and going out of her way to protect the younger. I had the misfortune of being the older sister, I even had blonde hair. I am named after my aunt, the sister my mother hates. None of this is speculation; my crazy fucking mother wrote it all down. My parents divorced and my dad went on to marry a woman less than half his age who had been abused herself; she went on to present him with three more little girls. She didn’t even look the other way; it all seemed right as rain to her. I told you I could go on and on and on about this . . .
Well, not all ways of honoring are equal,eh?
Yes, the vernal equinox can be very far away… It’s frigid here, but the snow and the china blue sky are awesomely refreshing.
In E. L. Doctorow’s Ragtime, Emma Goldman wonders rhetorically “Who are the instruments, and who the instrumentalities?” Here we are, owing only to Jane Hamsher, who made possible and helped produce Natural Born Killers. Sorry if my ‘point’ is ineffable…
Last night’s half-moon hung in the western night sky like a docked boat. The Equinox comment was paraphrasing a “beautiful but ineffectual angel”, Shelley. Ever hear of him? ;o) He’s one of those gifted “unacknowledged legislators”, but one with spaces separating his names.
I don’t see it as ‘dwelling upon’ to finally see the truth of how we were treated as children, especially as we were so loth to blame our tormentors that we literally poisoned ourselves with self-castigation. I could tell a hundred stories of clients who had ‘aha!’ moments during bodywork and slow talking. The relief that they felt was so uplifting that they’d often start to crow with laughter.
A person very near and dear to me was raped, shaken until a blood vessel burst in one eye, blinding her…and produced years of epileptic seizures, crying that could rarely be subdued before she was even six months old. Her bio mother drank while she was pregnant, so the girl child was fetal alcohol effect to boot. While she does maintain some contact with her birth mother, she does not, I think, honor her.
If you’ve ever heard the pleas from kids with full-blown fetal alcohol syndrome to be put in jail so they can do no more harm, and wishing they’d never been born…well..it can change how you see things.
For me, the truth needs to be revealed to each adult child or healing will never commence, thus dooming the dysfunctions to continue down the generations. Someone along the line has to have the courage to stop it, as our friend hfc is committed to doing so bravely. And as I try to, though my history pales beside hers and so many other of my friends and acquaintances.
Poisonous pedagogy. Yes, indeed.
A couple of decades ago, Anne Wilson Schaef wrote a pop psychology book called When Society Becomes an Addict. Although lightly written, the thesis that societies have institutional cultures that also practice poisonous pedagogy made a lot of sense to me, having just left an abusive employer. That was when the “boss as daddy” and “divine right of managers” made analytical sense to me of how our work organizations were failing. Later, shootings by “disgruntled employees” were in the news and those events began to make sense within the poisonous pedagogy framework.
Isn’t that the structure of entry into a lot of institutions? Think of hazing. And the training processes that “tear you down as an individual and rebuild you the way the institution wants you to perform.”
The shorthand for this instruction is “Be a man.” or “Man up.”
Susan Faludi maks the point in Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man that boys and young men are challenged to prove their manhood. But that beginning with menarche, women never are challenged to prove their womanhood in that same sense. Faludi argues that our culture makes certain role promises to boys-becoming-men that were achieveable in the culture of post-World War II America because there was a social contract in which society kept its part of the bargain to some degree. The culture still puts out that set of male expectations but that social contract for a whole host of reasons has completely disappeared.
Yes, dear. I am warming to no-space Shelley of the widening gyre, and it’s good for me. Would that I made more time to read poetry. I keep bringing books upstairs (including M. Scott Momaday and Walt Whitman, but…there they sit and stare at me as accusingly as my guitar seems to.)
Thank you for that.
I don’t feel so much brave as relieved to have a place to talk about this. When I was a child, I had no idea there was anyone else like me. Child molesters were wicked trolls that lived under the bridge; how could your big handsome dad be one? Nevertheless, I knew something was terribly wrong, and somehow I managed to separate myself from the dysfunction to some degree. That, and host of other things, saved me. I’d like to recommend a wonderful book that I came across a few years ago called The Transcendent Child. The author, a psychotherapist, recounts how several of her patients with incredibly horrific childhoods have managed to become at least functional and, in some cases, highly functional members of society. The common thread was that early in their lives, they were able to disassociate from the family psychologically and think of themselves as individuals who were not bad or hopeless. They also had mentors along the way – those “helping witnesses” you mention that reaffirmed their worth and kept them from losing hope. Some of the book reviews suggest that this is a counterpoint to victimization, as proof that you can escape from your childhood. I thought it was more evidence that if you continue to identify as a member of your family, the less chance you have of ever healing.
Faludi speaks of what Miller and others have, that the world has changed past many of the old mythologies of what men are supposed to be, do, and embody. While writing this over far too many days, I pinged on Campbell’s notion that every child needs his/her own hero journey told and imagined, and the devotees of story telling who claim that hearing the best stories, then even memorizing parts…can actually heal brains damaged by abuse. They claimed during extreme trauma, a brain would actually physically elevate itself from the brainstem to avoid injury, and stories…gave it gravity enough to settle again.
I’d always thought of it as seductive poppycock, but I do know that stories are how we come to know how we define the world, our ancestors, history, and even…selves. Far better that our own narratives are echoes of the greatest hero journeys, eh?
Re: ‘Manning Up’: Pollack also spoke of the trend in schools that rather than the first two or three grades being for socialization, kids now are reading in the first grade, and even have homework. It will be on accountta ‘No child’ and ‘Race’ bullshit, so teachers teach to tests. I ballast Steiner’s view that decoding symbols too early creates fear and failure later on, and that memorizing songs and poetry, exploring meter and tempo…and even second languages, is a far better (and fun) way to expand neural connections.
Sorry to ramble, my friend. I’ve been up since 3:30 so I could finally finis this piece. Meaning: I need some sleep, my eyes am crossin’. And thank you for all that.
On update: I’d meant to say that Pollack saw the boy children failing to meet the reading and writing challenges, not asking for help, and acting out. Losing recess for punishment only made them more fidgety and intractable; a bad cycle.
Of course, Blake’s “The Sick Rose” has been seared onto my double helix.
No doubt you’re familiar with Bettleheim’s The Uses Of Enchantment despite the latter-day discontents over him and it.
I am so glad that you feel safe enough her to unload a bit, my dear friend. The idea of dissociating from one’s family is fascinating, but probably has some inherent pitfalls. There are certainly times when even the oft-reviled ‘compartmentalization’ can save our lives, and to that I will attest. Like muscular armoring to desensitize certain areas of certain emotions, in the end, we need to be able to move between switched on and switched off, or the defenses end up being us, and limiting. It sounds as though you got the balance right.
When I took Kurtz’s classes, he always called for volunteers. I can’t say how many times I was ‘the subject’, getting processed in front of many students. No shame; it was a cheap way to get his great therapy, lol.
Honoring parents: how many of us ended up caring for those same parents who were the agents of our pain? A lot, of course. I guess that’s one thing I resented some shrinks saying, ‘We’re not here to beat up old people’, as though unwinding the secrets we told ourselves, and the lies our parents told…would preclude more honest and adult-to-adult conversations. Sometimes it even works. ;o) I love you, woman, and am so glad you had your share of witnesses and the intuition to know how to save yourself. Well, I dare say that all of us here are grateful for that.
I’ll look soon as I sleep a bit, HiDef. Zzzzz.
Until someone convinces me otherwise, I’ll continue to maintain that America stopped being a society, as such, and morphed into an economy, which started with the financializing of the economy part of society in the 1970s. In short, Americans have devoted themselves to economic interests ever since, and every social institution has become impoverished or redefined as an economic value.
That was probably a bit of a generalization, but what happened in my case case was very gradual – disassociating from my father, and then much later from the people who enabled and defended him (cousins, extended family) and bailed him out of jail (stepmother); from my three half-sisters (for reasons I won’t go into here); and finally, for my 50th birthday, my mother. Each time I had to balance the ideas of family and belonging and inclusion and the incredible pressure that hangs over the entire process of “reuniting the family” that used to pervade the child justice system; don’t know if it still does. Part of the trauma is believing that somehow your very blood makes you sick, that you too are genetically impaired by whatever caused your parents to be so bad and crazy. Letting go of that connection can be a very freeing step.
I would agree wholeheartedly with that.
My sense is that the physiological effects of stress, extreme stress, are subtle and more diffuse, even if they result in major transformations. Stories affect emotions, and emotions are chemical phenomena within the body. And sometimes gross anatomical features can be used metaphorically within stories to guide self-reflection.
Thank you Wendy for going a little deeper than the superficiality that typifies the conversations now taking place trying to make sense of this current tip of our American cultural psychopathic iceberg. The same cultural soup that spawns spree killers also spawns an entire spectrum of other sociopathic manifestations, many of them completely mainstream– things like our collective indifference to individual suffering in the form of supporting a status quo that is designed to create victims and suffering as part of its methodology to our societal blood lust for vengeance instead of justice, punishment instead of rehabilitation, our sick embrace of militarism and armed authority, our kneejerk resort to bombs and bullets instead of reason and diplomacy as instruments of foreign policy right on down to our worship of materialism and greed and celebration of inequality and brutal suppression of non-conformity among our own.
It really boils down to love vs. hate. What we as Americans seem to love above all else is to hate– to blame, to vilify, to marginalize, to demonize, then to hatefully and self-righteously attack. The only cure for hate is love. Forget politics or laws for a moment. All we can really do to counteract all this moral degeneracy is to love others, to love ourselves and to let that love guide our actions. Nothing else will work.
Thanks for the confirmation. To many, this will seem off-topic and unresponsive: When I was growing up, I didn’t know anyone who ate meat every day, much less three times every day.
I know what you’re thinking, so yes, my soapbox is a Dr. Bronner’s. ;o)
I know quite a few people whose childhoods sound like yours. Some of them went quite a ways in the other direction as a result. Others embraced it. :)
Very good advice. I’m taking it.
I see now what you meant, and the steps came as they were necessary and clear. Sometimes divorcing ourselves from family members is the wisest hard choice left available. Whoosh. My sister tortured me physically when we were kids, and later mentally. No matter how I appealed to her, we couldn’t get to any honest discussions. In fact, when I’d bring up family events that had scarred me, she would claim not to remember any of them, as though we never even shared the same family. It’s hard to get past that sort of entrenched denial.
Your fear of being genetically impaired is a whole ‘nother set of horrors.
I know it’s a bit off-topic, but awhile back when the subject of ‘grace’ was mentioned, and we were talking about a post trying to suss out the ineffable meanings of the term, I was so very aware that in some ways, ‘helping witnesses’ were just that: grace. The only witness I had was a great-grandmother whom I rarely saw, but loved me enough to crochet dresses for my Ginny dolls, send me neat little things she cut from cereal boxes, and…give me my very own can of ripe olives some Christmases. She was a touchstone in my imagination. Every piece of china she painted I think I have, and when I touch them…send her love and appreciation.
Pollack said, by the by, that girls speak to each other more honestly, but I had no friends I felt I could say my tales to, and not even the teachers I was friends with in the very different sort of high school I went to. Sigh. Wonder what my girlfriends didn’t say to me that they needed to?
It’s a good enough theory for now, THD. ;o)
Just to get it on the thread, I learned and use, and did use for my clients, a system called EFT that used a combination of acupuncture point tapping and EMDR-ish brain hemispheric communication exercises that was superior for neutralizing debilitating effects from trauma and even phobias.
Welcome, Kurt Sperry, and I’m glad that you shone some light on the collective and everyday sociopathy that’s so prevalent now. I certainly didn’t mean to limit the scope just to firearms killings, but to include those who are able and willing to so cavalierly kill us…more slowly, but irrevocably.
And yes, I’d hoped that I brought enough light at the end of the dark tunnel that we could know that loving is the only answer. You’re a pretty wise man, I reckon we’ll keep you around. ;o)
The only place I would quibble is to remind you that we all know wonderful and generous people with whom we share about zero common political aims. My hope, on this day of days, is that the Maya and other global indigenous are right, and today marks the time of a wider understanding of what humans can and should be creating right now that will lead us into The Light. And love. Carlos can get me through some dark times. ;o)
Well now. Ahem. If that’s burned into your code, you maybe should come with a warning sign, eh? ;o)
Dunno if Bruno was correct, but those Brothers Grimm wrote some grim shit; scared me witless. Some of the others I can see as preparatory, though. Say, what did ever become of Little Red Riding Hood, anyway, Perfesser? And who were you rootin’ for?
I think it’s somewhat rare for teenagers to tell even their closest friends their darkest secrets for fear that it will push them away. I never told a soul about my dad, until I told mr. hfc when I was 20. About 10 years ago, I reconnected with my very best high school friend and she told me that she’d known something was going on (my dad would leer at her when she came over; somehow I missed that aspect of his charm). She sheltered me when I ran away after he’d blackened my eye and thrown me out of the house; her mother must have had some inkling. But it was pretty rare for people back then to intercede (at least that’s what I tell myself). Certainly high school kids have to have someone they trust immensely to divulge such things; by then they’ve become experts at hiding it.
I feel your pain with regard to your sister. My next oldest sister and I have both tried very hard to be friends. She has guilt over being the one my mom protected and of course I’ve told her it’s unnecessary. But our temperaments and opinions and beliefs could not be more different. Just as you said, it’s hard to believe we shared the same family.
My grandpa was my most important helping witness; I never, ever doubted his unconditional love. I loved him so much that I needed to wait until he died to reveal the truth about my dad, his son, because I thought it would hurt him too much. That’s just the way children perceive things in these situations.
May I wing a prayer of gratitude to your grandfather? I do know that Mr. wd withholds news that would bum out his pop. I confess, even knowing one bit, I told it when he was here for probably his last visit ever a few months ago. (spurred the ‘even my father-in-law’s talkin’ ’bout a revolution’ diary) There are some truths that need to be told, and family (literally) mythologies can be so damaging for the ones who Know the Truth Not Spoken.
I’m getting so lost in images from the past that I can’t know what to say about some of it, except this: the only time I had planned to commit suicide, I was save from it in a rather extraordinary way; I consider it Grace now. It may be the mysteries of life that keep me interested enough to write and live and…try to love all those I can, pray as an apatheist; like waking in the morning and looking at the night skies.
And I’ll wing a prayer to whoever kept you on the planet, wendydavis.
Kip Kinkel was somewhat developmentally challenged, diagnosed Dyslexic, had to repeat 1st grade. Both his parents were Spanish teachers, there is no real history of “abuse”, though he was certainly not “part of the family”. His parents and older sister were accomplished, confidant people, and Kip was an awkward, black sheep. He also had signs of being paranoid schizophrenic..
One of the frames for Amerindian culture was the significance of time, or so it was said in the 1960s. And that is the context for treating the Mayan calendar as a significant cultural artifact in US culture.
I think your “change in consciousness” is an always presence possibility. A gift if we accept it. So the gift we got today was #idlenomore. That name itself is powerful and marks a significant shift in indigenous people’s movement. It would not surprise me to see a coalition between indigenous peoples and island nations to save the earth, and not some NGO association type of thing.
I haven’t been as hopeful recently as when Occupy Sandy cranked up.
And yet none of the women speaking here ended up as mass murderers. So we are making some excuses somehow for how it is that some men don’t find the reserves to survive and overcome their abuses. I’m just sayin’.
I did not suffer this kind of abuse, and I respect anyone who can make some semblance of life and family and relationship from this wreckage. I am the survivor of childhood sexual assault, and I can say that it had a profound expression in my psyche, but I have had an overall charmed life by comparison to anything discussed here.
I appreciate your post so much, wd, and your inputs especially, hfc. Of course the community here is quite stellar, and that too is astonishing. I appreciate the compassion that is so often expressed here, despite the verbal sniping that breaks out on occasion.
Thank you so much for the research, deep thinking and personal risk you took on to do this, wd. Truly.
Believe it or not (Ripley), it was because at the last minute, I Astra-traveled for the first and only, ever time in my life. I was suddenly perched in tree and looking in at myself sitting on my (really) sister’s bed, and I actually saw my face, and what was in it, what it said to me as an interested observer. The overwhelming compassion I felt for that dear, dear young woman…and seeing her history flashing before me, and the books she read, the fucking bravery of surviving the lies told about her, the confused reality of almost believing they might be true…and carrying all the family’s emotional baggage…did something to me forever. For one thing, I know now not to scoff at Mysterious Gifts from the creator, or the multiverse, however we might name the force. God? I dunno. But again: Grace.
The ability to remove myself from my body to a safer place often saved my life too – so I know the exact Grace of which you speak. I’m glad you were able to feel such compassion and love for yourself. I’ve written about it in the book that I write little snippets of when I’m compelled to do so. (Maybe some day it will turn into something.)
Of course I could have gotten it wrong, but we don’t know that there wasn’t abuse, or how the sibs may have fared later. But schizophrenics aren’t prone to violence, as I understand it, unless there was a history of same before the onset of the disease. That said, it’s all tragic, even if the cause more genetic than experiential. But his plea that the cops ‘kill him‘ illustrates some points here that are almost too difficult to bear for those of acute sensitivity.
Thank you, magilla.
Thank you, THD, and especially for ‘a gift it we take it’. As you know, indigenous courage and knowledge are fairly high priorities on my posting preferences, and I’ve been reading and watching over the past couple days, and am always amazed and heartened. Especially by the Canadian and Alaskan First Nations peoples.
This is from Toronto; enjoy and be cheered that as I’ve long believe, they will lead the way, and especially third world women (apologies for my chauvinism). ;o)
(And I am a big proponent of flashmobs.)
Welcome, bgrothus. If I may, I think it’s not so much excuses, but…comprehension and possible fixes we’re speaking about. Unless we know the truth/facts/underlying causes, there is no hope to change these cultural flaws that plague us so, and contribute to the war machine, institutional evil or disregard, and even environmental decimation, as that is another target of those who reckon the planet is also ‘the other’, to be subdued, not nourished.
Many males have learned over the past few decades that they are fantastic nurturers, and have developed their sensitive sides, including communication, without great fanfare, but many of us are still living under the old systemically ingrained patterns. We’ll get there or perish.
Yes, the folks here are often awesomely generous, but there is plenty of evidence of hate as well, and it makes me sad when I see it on display, my friend. We can all learn to do better, and need to.
Thanks for reading and commenting, bgrothus.
On edit: I feel like such an idiot. It wasn’t until I walked away that more of your words banged around inside my skull. It’s simply impossible for us to measure our suffering against another’s. We’re such diverse critters with so many other qualities, experiences, sensibilities, nervous systems…do remember the story of the Buddha and the Tree of Sorrow: after the circle of people instructed to hang their sorrows and trials on a bodhi tree branch…when given the chance to choose a branch’s sorrows….each person chose his/her own. ;o)
‘Her’ visage really spoke to me, I guess. Shoot, I’m back there again with the colors, smells, textures of the tree bark and goddam curtains, even, the cool smell of West Twin Lake at my back…all of it. My stars, what things memories are, and so much isn’t known about them, or how images are constructed in our dreams (other saving graces and unconscious measurements of our well-being and stuff to work through and all).
That’s the second time something you’ve said here that reminded me of a scene from a John Irving novel. Character Junior was pleading with gf Frannie to remember after she’d been gang raped by half the football team: “Frannie; remember: they can’t touch the you…in you”. Fancy that sort of loving compassion and understanding need. Wow.
Thoughtfilled diary wd — your thoughts in the diary,the thoughts presented and expanded on in above comments.
Which one of us would not have stopped if we could have done so what took place at Sandy Hook School? Clearly it was a horror that these innocents died only because events had spiraled down so far into where light did not dwell or simply was not. So then too as well for those innocents we USians in other lands on this planet inflict such horror(s) on while telling ourselves it was/is OK when it clearly/plainly is not OK. USians like to pretend they stand in the light. It is a bad pretend.
Sandy Hook now again showing us how we do not like seeing our innocents and our children killed. Made dead. This is what we USians need to stop doing so much to ourselves and those innocents we call The Other who are outside our mercy and compassion circles. Sandy Hook is the mirror we should be peering into as it shows what has not been seen well by USians for a long,long time now. On a planet where 7 billion plus humans must co-exist this ahould be in the plain to see realm.
Can all the bad stuff humans do or fall prey to be stopped? No.It will always be with us. Despite this we humans like to think and believe our religions and our gaining of knowledge and insight and perhaps wisdom will lead us away from the dark places where the light has gone from or never was. Human spirit and will are attracted to hoping this.
Those of us who were blessed with good parents or parents who worked out the imperfections of being parents better were/are perhaps just lucky or was it a case of being less unlucky? We come from families and as revealed by wd and in the comments above families can be where bad dwells and flourishes for a long time. It can and does happen to many families. While some of us find the near exits and get away from the bad family stuff early on others must have time to work it out and find the pathways that may/can lead out and away to happier places where light dwells.
In all this and to the end we humans need to have and know good humans,kind humans,merciful and compassionate humans in our lives. Becoming a good human is a high achievement for any human anywhere on this planet we call Earth. On average we humans have about one thousand months to be here on Earth for better or worse. To be loving and kind and merciful and compassionate.
Or not.
Maybe just will not be. In our minds could not be. Were unable to be.
It is good to hope we can and will find good humans in our lives or indeed can and will discover and allow to show the light in ourselves that others may see and know it.
… stay with it wd…thank you … your corner here at FDL is a good place …
The Grimms didn’t write any of the stories and tales, they collected them from people who knew them as oral tales, then published their familiar collections, many of which we know only in expurgated and corrupted form. The brothers were language scholars, one of them developed the fascinating Grimm’s Law. I hope you don’t mind perfessional comma-spliced sentences at your diary. Or sentence fragments.
I can’t, so won’t, begin to mention the books and animated movies I looked at before I could read. Except I’ll mention Walt Disney’s Pinocchio for its believability owing (I now realize) to its cinematic excellence. If I watched it today the homilies would put me off, and I’d identify more with the geezer, but I’d still call it a great movie.
Another obscure compound allusion gone nowhere: Blake developed a burning-in acid technique for his copper plates from which he could ‘print’ his literally unique books. No two original versions of the same published books are alike.
Such a poignant comment, mine Archer friend, full of both velvet arrows and serious candle power entwined. Your rhetorical questions need no answers, of course, but it’s hard not to note the wistfulness of your assessments, and agree with your tone.
If some portion of our jobs is making the world better within the scope we have, one biggie in my mind is to stop the generational pretense that we stand in the light, while forging the opposite, both nationally or with falsified family narratives.
Your sentences about ‘finding the near exits early’ made me smile. I flashed to a scene some years ago, sitting in my car with a psychologist friend as we were completing a discussion about our family’s similarities, and our responses to them. After telling her how many times over the decades I’d put my life on hold to go ‘rescue’ my parents in CA from some meltdown or other, almost always requiring stays of several weeks, tra la la. She’d done much the same, but ended up asking out loud, in effect: Knowing what we now know…would we choose differently now? Yep, you’ll guess that we both said it was likely we would, as we howled at ourselves for believing that. :)
Your ‘were not able to be’ rings hard, because with the caveat that it may be true in some small minority of cases, most of do have the choice, and too often don’t even look inward to check themselves out. Incentives are hard to provide, but try we must, both for ourselves and our families. It’s one way that we can honor ourselves, the creator, and each other, and even our ancestors, imho.
Heh. Tracy Chapman wonders about it, too. ;o) Which makes me again wonder: for how many of us our fondest wish that we die well, knowing we did the best we could to live honorable and worthy lives?
Sorry to ramble and space out; these comments require a lot of daydreaming and journeys into the past…to answer. Thank you so much, dear man. (well, assuming…) ;o)
“It is good to hope we can and will find good humans in our lives or indeed can and will discover and allow to show the light in ourselves that others may see and know it.”
Thank you,shootthatarrow for saying all that I tried to compress within my post, and for all the heartbreaking comments and thoughtful comments in this thread.
The ‘conflict’ I see between the two paths forward are as you rightly observe between the rocky path and the grassy, shady one. We who have travelled the latter (some rocks though, even there!) cannot judge those whose feet have been blooded on the jagged rocks of family perversities, who yet climb upwards. Think of the two paths as working towards the same goal. And that goal, as I remarked to myself on the Solstice yesterday (today it is spring in my book because the light turned and is returning!) includes all living things (and no, I am not a vegetarian, plants have lives too.)
The hardest part, which hasn’t come yet because of the justifiable pain, will be love even for those parents whose bestiality has blighted your lives. A child can’t do that, and should not be expected to; a young person like the shooter may have been able to come to this had there not been the weapons so readily available. To me, he evidences the situation of horror and hatred cut off before it has a chance to mature. So that’s why I stand by my creed: honor, ultimately, and even love your parents.
We aren’t called upon just to love those who love us. That’s easy. We are called upon, ultimately, to love those who hate us. That’s my faith – not what I do, but what is the goal.
We’ll meet again at the top of the mountain.
Dear Homily-free Geezer,
I didn’t either know or remember the Grimms had complied the tales, but it makes clearer to me that those tales were a lot about cautionary tales to scare young uns into being good, as in so many cultures.
Being the queen of the run-on sentence stream-of-consciousness diarists here, how could I complain of such? Not likely, lol.
Funny, I can’t separate the Disney movies from the books in my memories, but I loved the artwork in many of the books, and one big Sleeping Beauty was my very favorite. I can still see portions of the paintings; my stars. Including Flora, Fauna, and…Merriweather and their pointed noses, hats, wands and tiny heeled shoes. ;o)
But ah yes; for girl childs waiting for the Prince: arrrggh. Pinocchio was fantastic, and our son heard it so often that he could recite a lot of it by three. ‘Stay up late and smoke cigars’, lol!
When I read those stories as a child, wendy, they inhabited a world that was mine, since I was not read to as is the custom these days. I read and absorbed on my own. So, what they did for me was let me know very early on that life could be, might be, very hard, very scary, but also magical – probably a good lesson to learn to make one an optimistic realist, to somewhat prepare in a safe way – and that you yourself can always close the book. Very very hard, though, for children who cannot close the book, but are in those situations themselves. The stories were powerful, but helpful, the way I remember them from childhood. And as I think of it, they could well have prepared me for my inordinate love of the written word.
Mornin’, julianaia. It would certainly depend which books we’re talking about but I take your point on ‘optimistic reality’. We also learned pathos reading about children with far worse tribulations than our own, even as most were solved somewhat magically. ;o) Funny, but the main series of books I remember our mum reading was Albert Payson Terhune’s dog stories, and they acquainted me with death and tragedy, heroics and loyalty, and of that. I’ve long thought it sad that in this society there isn’t more note taken of the time a child…realizes that he or she will die, or that mum or dad or caregiver will, too. It’s a huge right of passage, and it’s all accomplished so silently, privately. I remember being very aware of things I sensed I should withhold from parents, but then the great Mr. Kurtz howled with glee when he discovered that my wont was to soothe my parents, and…parent them a bit. And.yet. ;o)
As I said in the OP, yes, I think we need to reach out in loving deed to those to those we may not even like. (a kindness by the cruel Griselda’s ugly nose, lol; yes: from a bookset)
But honoring, loving, even forgiving…in my opinion, would be a shallow thing without the recognition of the truth of our childhoods, and the growth and health that can come through that, and be passed on. Front-loading the need for forgiveness or loving is what often gets us stuck in the same dishonest authoritarian paradigm, imo. (Not to mention that love has a thousand faces in a thousand people.)
Yes, may we meet at the top of the mountain, and try to bring light to ourselves and those we can, and not feel guilty for the failure to love those who, at least at some point in time, are just one bridge too far, eh? It makes sense that I love light and lights and songs about light, but this helped get me through the past couple weeks. Love and Light to you, juliania.
I watched Pinocchio again last night, its restored ‘pristine’ version is on YouTube, and I was impressed that the theme concerned knowing right from wrong but didn’t cover knowing good from bad, although the movie presented a lot we would consider good and bad. It’s striking that all the bad guys merely exit the movie and conceivably continue being bad guys after the curtain comes down. Only Monstro the whale is destroyed, killed by his intention to destroy innocent life. The bad guys are kidnappers and enslavers. Presumably they’re still around. Me, I never expected to encounter a whale in Flatbush.
We can deconstruct Pinocchio’s texts since it was written and adapted in modern times, and we don’t have to reconstruct any of it from ancient stories, many of which come to us like the telephone game, nothing at all like the original or earliest forms and ‘texts’. We reconstruct those so they make sense as near as we can tell or as far as we can tell, which I don’t think deserve to be considered gospel. If we love literature it’s usually because of how language transforms one thing into something else: We can be astonished at how Nature transforms a seed into a tree, at how we can transform a tree into a book, and then how a book can transform phonetic letters into a tree, and it’s like magic or myth, and far more when it transforms us. Or how literature can be made so its stories come to life on a stage, how Sophocles could bring Oedipus back from an ancient past, the word made flesh, and that most powerful man is transformed in a few hours into the most wretched and ruined man, only by words he speaks and we hear.
What I get from the myth of Thetis’s dipping her new-born son, Achilles, into the Styx river to render him invulnerable, except for the back of his heel where she grasped him, is that it’s bad not to rotate your bowl or spoon when you clean off the pork blood in the stream or bucket after you’ve eaten because you could get sick, and I hate when that happens.
Wot??? You never heard the tale of Moby Flatbush??? Shocked I am, Perfesser. Sheesh; they even told it on Catawba Island, OH.
How interesting you separated Right/Wrong and Good/Bad from your take on the story (or the film). Say more about that if you wish. But your ideas about books and language being transformational in all those different ways made me smile with pleasure (or else I had gas, like some are wont to say about baby’s first smiles).
And is that a camper’s version of a kosher kitchen there, my friend?
Fun comment, and well said to boot (or as we say in our house: tavooch, which is Ute for jackrabbit, this makes…no sense whatsover. but still we say it…)
Thank you for this wise and multi level starting point for us to use as we examine the actions and sub conscious energies of our society.
I know my life improved vastly when a therapist gave me a small “wheel.” And said to make sure I wasn’t acting in accordance with any of the destinations of the wheel. In other words, for me to avoid being a “perp,” or a “victim,’ or a “rescuer.” (Except, of course, in terms of rescuing the few I am feeling responsible for: children, elderly relatives, and the occasional street person.)
I also remember a close friend who remarked that their fifth grade class was very different from the classes they had taught previously. The Vietnam War had ended three years earlier, and he thought that the influence of violence and the suggested talking points of “cleansing Vietnam of the Communist aggressors” and all the images and speech relating to that war were gone from the Nation’s lexicon. So this energy was no longer out there to be getting expressed by kids in grammar school.
I think I was taught that right and wrong we try to codify under the morality rubrick, sometimes even codifying wrongful behavior with laws and justice. Knowing what’s good and what’s bad (contrary or destructive of what’s good) I think we put under the ethics rubrick. In my consciousness, I hold onto absolutes, have little or no sympathy for people who won’t hold onto anything absolute, which leaves only compassion for them. Morality is like an ice floe and won’t stay put, so a society relies on consensus about what’s right or wrong behavior. It’s irrelevant but significant that many mature viewers of Pinocchio consider the absence of justice and punishment for the bad guys to be unethical movie making.
Now this. The famous Cinderella story derives from ancient pre-literate stories, and like the Grimm’s collections, eventually got written down, and still in many forms, several as English translations. There continues to be a controversy about the slippers and the possibility of their being transformed via the telephone game syndrome. In French (from where the version we know best comes), there’s un verre slipper, a glass slipper, and un ver slipper, a slipper made from a grub, as both sound the same. Imagine that the fairy godmother (Mother Nature) transforms Cinder Girl in English and provides ‘bat slippers’ — who knows if some latter-day translator would make her slippers come from a winged mammal or from a Louisville Slugger? Some interpreters of the older story suggest that Nature dresses her, so her slippers are formed from caterpillars (ver). If they’re glass (verre), then you’d need Superman to transform a handful of sand, like George Reeves did on teevee with a lump of coal he squeezed so hard until you saw smoke and when he opened his hand there was a huge diamond, which looked like glass but was probably plasticine or lucite.
I think that the roles you mention are from transactional analysis, and we see that triangle in evidence on the boards a lot, and participants switching roles as convenient; pretty funny to witness once you see it. ;o) It does sound like a useful reminder, elisemattu.
Interesting about what your teacher friend said about war and verbiage, too. Collecting links and writing/editing this post (maybe watching these threads a bit after Sandy Hook, really), I’d been thinking off and on about the little I know about neuro-linguistic programming, and what the choices or automatic word choices signified. For that matter, what the various words we use for murder, suicide, and death. Hmmm; sorry for the OT.
Imagine, though what your teacher friend might hear now, and especially the dark verbiage about Muslims. I’m extrapolating from history; I don’t see network teevee. But I’d guess according to the evening news, these must be the cleanest dirty ‘wars’ ever. I remember Christmas was always the worst for me, seeing all the sentimental coverage of ‘the soldiers home for the holidays’, and the strange brew of patriotism they’d tout. I don’t even want to know about the coverage of the dead from Sandy Hook. I’d imagine that it’s like watching burlesque.
Thanks for reading and sharing, elise. Stay strong; it’s the second day of the next incarnation of the world. ;o)
Funny, for so long I’d want people to differentiate between moral and ethical, and by now *no one* uses ethical, which I’d considered a more narrow definition of the best principles to live by, higher truths, all that. I think the dictionary even says the terms are interchangeable. But yes, morals used to be more of a societal moving target of behaviors and maybe even values.
Things have changed so quickly even here that unmarried Mormon girls who get pregnant aren’t at least publicly ostracized, and I wonder if that isn’t a sea change.
But phooey on you, Mr. Bummer: I’d thought Superman actually made the goddam diamond, and here you are undercutting my hero worship. Shoot. (what would the NLP say about *that* exclamation choice?)
Both of the creators of “South Park,” Matt Stone and Trey Parker, have addressed the total tragedy of not only the victims of the shooting, but also that tragedy of the Columbine shooters. How they identified with those two guys. And how the schools have no manner of helping teenagers who are ridiculed and despised.
What struck both Stone and Parker was that a kid who is tormented in HS can turn their whole lives around once they have gotten out of that environment. They know this, because that is what they were able to do.
One reason why Stone and Parker somewhat identified with the shooters – they themselves had graduated from Columbine some few years before the time of the massacre. And both had been bullied and felt isolated.
When an entire crowd of other kids makes a teenager feel that life was not all that worthwhile, the results can be grievous to so many. And while people focus on guns – it is not simply a matter of guns. People “ran amuck” back in the 1800′s and throughout the Twentieth Century. Read up about the massacre at Frank Lloyd Wright’s “Taliesin” and it becomes apparent that there are always ways for someone who feels they are a victim to take it out on those they see as having hurt them.
Given the gender suicide rate differential, it’s clear that boys are suffering mightily and needlessly. Yes, many can flower after high school, but as you say, help for those times is scanty. After Columbine, and after a gay Navajo teen here was murdered, the administrative shuffles began, especially from school counselor. Ugh.
Too many kids here have killed themselves, and to say it’s heartbreaking is too understate it by 100 times. Think of that amount of despair. I’d tried so hard to get an anti-bullying program at our schools, and even did all the ratty steps to build a small coalition, yada, yada, found what I reckoned was the best free program (Canadian), and the new superintendent nixed it utterly. Bam. Now they have one, but I’m sure it’s crap, and football jocks and coaches sons and Mean Girls still rule. God, I hated high school; luckily I got to go to college as well the last two years. It helped a lot.
After Columbine, the rats at my son’s second high school (he transferred at great hassle), they took all the computers belonging to the Goth kids and searched them, ruining them in the process. It was such ugly and divisive over-reaction, just another kind of fascism.
Nope, I’m with you on not just guns as the problem, which is why I kept the focus on the rest in the end. If you have time, read Mike King’s piece at Counterpunch; he had his head on pretty straight, imo.
I’ll try to remember to read about Taliesin; it’s new to me. All the best to you, elisemattu. We’re gonna get through this by hook or crook, and make a better world. ;o)
Your story of “grace” entering you and saving you gave me chills.
I had a friend send me a video about some Mayan shaman, and he states that one interpretation of the Mayan prophecies is that for those of us who want it (and even many who don’t) we might all be allowed an eight second glimpse of total Joy and peace. I am so glad you were given that eight seconds (or more?) of wisdom/grace to get you to this moment. Big blessings may come your way that you receive as much more as you need.