There’s No Common Ground

Nope. I really wanted to find it. I tried to start at the sisterhood, right?! The SISTERHOOD! We know what it’s like being harassed. I have no idea what my black & brown sisters go through because I’m white & privileged to only have been sexually harassed & abused, not subjugated to having race enter into my humiliation & defilement, but trust me, I know what the fuck it’s like to be abused.

I am so angry there is race & culture that enter into it too – like Dante’s circles of hell.

I’m tired of reading intellectuals spout bullshit at each other, especially those who sit back as though they’re so much better than everyone else they deign to engage with. Step. the. fuck. OFF.

America is in dire straits. Not the band, the actuality. We are entering the totalitarian zone with the rise of drumph, the admitted sexual predator, and narcissistic sociopath, whom a sibling, and at least one close friend voted for. WOMEN I know voted for that cretin. I understand men voting for him, but women? I guess I can fathom, in a Stockholm Syndrome sort of way, why women would have thought he’d be – nope, can’t do it. Stepford Wives comes closer to an explanation, or being drugged, or deluded.

Well, I can move abroad, right? I don’t have to stay for the shit show. I have friends & relatives in Canada & Australia. Being a refugee sucks, but it depends on what you’re leaving behind.

Good luck folks – I hope you like your new dictatorship. You all get what you deserve!

Cheers!

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

Here We Are

Oh no, this is not a new ‘reality’.  This is not acquiescing to ‘what is’, or any other platitude.  We are in horrific times, pergatorious times – and yes – I just made up a word because that’s the kind of times we are now experiencing.

A joke is our President-elect.  Make no mistake, an unqualified hack will be the leader of this quickly sinking country – perhaps a harbinger of the fabled ‘end times’.  Yeah, I know I’m giving legitimacy to fiction by naming it as a thing I believe we’re approaching, if not already in, but, hey, ya gotta start somewhere…

The end times described in antiquitious texts is when the current system, way of life – whatev – is abandoned and a ‘new way’ implemented.  Or it’s when all the ‘worthy’ people will be ‘taken’ and the rest of us – most of us – will be left with the stinking cesspool those assholes helped create.

God looks the other way while Rome burns – or America and the European Union – at any rate.

Thankfully there are many, MANY, folks not burdened by fictional works who are left scrambling to hold onto the tattered remains of honorable, inclusive, compassionate society.

It sucks that it takes a horror show to jolt the fighters among us, but enlivened we are.

Peace be on those deserving peace.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

 

 

Living Nightmare

So, the goodness I thought would reign didn’t manifest, and the people chose darkness.

They chose hate, fear, misogyny, and it’s the first time a known sexual predator was elected to the highest office in America.

We are lower than we’ve been since John F Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, and Martin Luther King, Jr’s assassinations.

Healthcare – such as it is – will be repealed, and people won’t be covered for pre-existing conditions.  Women’s rights – even the right to vote – risk decimation.

Supreme Court justices who are anything but just will be installed, and America will not get over this ruination.

President Obama barely got us out of the hell President George W. Bush got us all into, but at least we were making progress.

The bully elect will knock down and crush the building blocks so painstakingly erected over these last 8 years of a do-nothing Congress, that America also saw fit to continue.

I am bereft, bewildered, and sad for my fellow Americans, especially us women, and for the children who will wonder why we did this to them.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

 

Picking A Fight

I’m angry at the Universe, at being here, at the way. life. is., at being human, and because I either have to kill myself, or heavily drug myself not to care, I start to take my anger out on those around me. I’m sneaky though because I’m passive aggressive, and I don’t even really know I’m in attack mode except everything starts to bother me, and acrimony is just below the surface.

I’m starting to recognize this as I start disliking my significant other, and wanting to leave, and be left alone by everyone. Only perfection would be good enough for me because my true fight is against the bully in the sky telling me how unworthy I am at every turn, and if I’d only let It micro-manage my life, then – maybe – I’ll be accepted by It and allowed into some perverse kingdom that only judgmental assholes will be going to. If I accept the son of this bully, then I get out of jail free – no matter what I’ve done or do, as long as I’m truly repentant – and, oh, btw, I have to forgive everyone no matter what they’ve done & no matter what harm their actions caused, or continue to cause.

So, yeah, I’m a little touchy today.

I just wanted to be a light in a dark world. I didn’t want to have to jump through hoops, and I never asked to be allowed in It’s shitty kingdom. Will I rend my invisible garments and gnash my non-existent teeth? Yeah, it’s a metaphor, I know, but if god doesn’t see what a shitty idea free will was, then It’s not really a god, because It would fix Its mistake, wouldn’t It? We clearly cannot rise to our noble nature, and after seeing the eons of horror – humanity’s inhumanity – and continuing to let us exist doesn’t speak of a good god, or a just god: it speaks of an impotent god. Because innocents are harmed every. day. But the convenient excuse is that It’s a mystery – as though that’s a valid answer – and that we’re born into sin, so there are no innocents. If you’re here, you’re guilty as fuck, and so whatever happens to you or your brethren is warranted and self-caused.

If I signed up for this, can I renege? Can I desert my post? Can I be destroyed – just utterly destroyed? I don’t want to exist beyond here knowing that none of it mattered, and yet it was impossible for me to detach, and it sure feels like it matters while living it.

God is no comfort to me, nor am I a comfort to god, I’m sure.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

 

 

 

So Much Nothing

I’ve had a tough time writing lately.  Maybe depression has set in – apathy leading the way.  Nothing feels interesting or worth investing in.  I could look happy and present, but whether or not I am, it shifts quickly.

Is living for the young?  Should twenty to forty be the only important part of life?  After forty the pain began.  It has only increased since.  Different issues, more work & time to address it – the ‘free ride’ over.

The problem is the lack of appreciation for a body that feels good & functions well.  It’s inspiring when people born without limbs, or other horrific problems, live high-functioning lives.  It shames me & I’m so tired of living shame.

Even the love of my life can’t breach the gap.  It’s not his path, even if he loves me with all he has.

In my wildest imagination I am alone: succeeding, happy, fulfilled.  I’ve never seen it with someone else – just me.  Maybe that’s due to trauma – neglect & abuse – I don’t know.  I decided that no one, NO ONE, will take anything else from me.  I lived that life and I’m not able to continue helping someone else do well at my expense. I mean emotionally.  If I had billions I could give most away without issue, but I’m tired of people who want to take my soul.

That’s where I am today.  I’m sure it’ll change tomorrow.  Cheers.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

 

Shameful

 http://mikeconnellministries.com/transcript/74/Unmasking-Shame-2-of-6.aspx

http://mikeconnellministries.com/transcript/74/Unmasking-Shame-2-of-6.aspx

Shame is possibly the worst side-effect of trauma.  Guilt, shame’s ignoble cousin, seeps in churning the mess.  Guilt has its place, when you do something unkind, unhealthy, or unhelpful, guilt proves conscience – and shows that you’re probably not a psychopath, although you still might be an asshole.

But guilt that worms its way into my psyche without validity serves no purpose.  Shame lies to me, but I believe its lies.

http://blogs.edweek.org/teachers/view-from-the-cheap-seats/2015/05/shame.html
http://blogs.edweek.org/teachers/view-from-the-cheap-seats/2015/05/shame.html

I’ve read that young children cannot process that their parents or caregivers might be wrong, or harmful, so I took it in as my fault.  I didn’t have friends in my first years of school, and even then, at 5 or 6 years old, I thought my classmates knew that I was defective.  But I was resilient;  I knew how to laugh, and laughter was my guardian.  I didn’t know I was smart because I didn’t grow up in a nurturing environment – I just knew ways to escape without going anywhere, and how to hold in my anger and fear until they finally exploded in tantrums and sometimes blind rage – usually toward my antagonizing next oldest sister.

Fotolia_57156905_Woman-Shame-Covered-Face
Fotolia_57156905_Woman-Shame-Covered-Face

Shame clung to me – it twisted into my DNA, bored into my neurons, exchanging itself through synapses.

Of course I’d try to get unkind people to love me throughout my life, it’s what I was taught.  Of course I’d find men who would add to my shame, further deepening what I already believed about myself.  I never got what I so desperately wanted and needed, love and approval.  Approval is exoneration, absolution.  If I got validation from others, then I wouldn’t have to be ashamed anymore.

Only it doesn’t work that way.  I have to validate and approve of myself.

I don’t want to live in shame anymore.  I’ve done nothing to warrant such heavy chains, such a terrible prison.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

 

Consequences

My task is learning to deal with negative reactions. A while ago I heard ‘Mean Tweets’ on the Jimmy Kimmel show, and the horrible things people say about and to celebrities, and how those celebrities deal with that. Mostly they made fun of it, and humor is a great way to diffuse that kind of derision. Writing or speaking publicly about my life experience, and negative fall-out, is best handled by ignoring those comments, but if I want a dialogue, I need to respond, and be thoughtful about how I do that.

I have differences of opinion all the time, and do my best to be respectful, and kind – even if I feel the opposite at the time. I’ve had shared experiences with family and with friends, and we didn’t incorporate events the same way, but trying to invalidate my position with ad hominems or other aspersions only shows their lack of credibility.

Being liked and well-regarded matters to me, but speaking my truth is more important. Accepting the consequences is hard, but I’m not shutting up. They are as free to not read or listen to me, as I am to disregard their opinions.

In the 1980’s, when child sexual abuse was nationally disclosed by Oprah Winfrey, I’m sure she had backlash from family and from strangers. Then ‘false memory syndrome’ was coined by some asinine psychologist, and then applied to anyone who disclosed childhood abuse as an adult.

Sometimes traumatic events get blocked because your psyche cannot cope, and because all energy must go somewhere, that trauma ‘leaked’ or manifested in other ways, be it mental illness, or self-harming behavior. I think most people compartmentalize their trauma and get on with their lives, but triggering events happen eventually, or something brings it front & center, like a major illness, or mental break-down, forcing them to work through it, or face sometimes dire repercussions.

My goal is contentment, and serenity, and working through my issues is the only way I know to get there, regardless of how messy that might be, and if my words help anyone in similar circumstances, then it’s worth not shutting up.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

The End

This life was always a hard sell.  I wasn’t sure what I was doing, pretty much ever.  I got in over my head from day one, and I’ve tried to sort it out ever since.

Does it matter if I’m angry, or sad, or disillusioned? I don’t know why I came with expectations.  How did that happen?  Was it television?  Did I believe the fantasy family shows I saw were real?

I existed in my family – I endured.  I didn’t know that’s what I was doing.  Life was what it was. I didn’t know I had any other choice, and none was offered to me.

When my mother moved us to a commune/cult when I was ten, I thought that was the other choice.  I thought my mother finally made the best decision for us – and maybe she did.

Or maybe she was another messed up person in this world who couldn’t do the right thing, and her children suffered for it, and blah, fucking, blah, right?  There’s no redemption.  There’s no ‘making up for it’.  There’s nothing.  We’re where we are.

The world says, ‘what are you going to do now?’.  The world is only curious if it’s interesting or somehow commendable.

I love prevailing stories.  I want people to win, to better their circumstances, to get revenge, and if they can’t get direct revenge, to come out better in the end.  I want the assholes to suffer.  I want them to hurt.  I am so not compassionate toward those undeserving.

I saw the guy who molested his eight year old foster daughter – the girl who moved to his & his wife’s house to flee another predator.  I wanted to hurt him.  Several years have gone by & there is no difference in how I feel. No softening, no compassion. I want him to die. He is useless, and I have difficulty knowing he yet lives. He manages to fill his days instead of hanging himself, as he should.  Maybe he doesn’t have to hang.  He could shoot himself, or poison himself, or a myriad of ways to leave this world, and yet, he’s still here.  I’m still here too.  My molesters were never charged or payed for what they did either.

I’ve concluded that whatever ‘god’ exists does not concern itself with us.  There might be some over-arching energy or force, but it cannot care about what happens here and affect it.  Or, if it does, and chooses not to, I have no allegiance or fealty to such a being, force, presence.

My life is my own.  I don’t commit my life to any person, place, or thing.  No nouns own me.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current

I Forgive Me

Maybe I’ll get a wide-screen view of my life when I die, and I’ll have the perspective of a stranger, seeing all I did and didn’t do, and perhaps it won’t be as terrible as I fear.

I know where I fucked-up, and I know where I tried to right things, and I know where I did well.

I parented a child mostly on my own, and I finally forgave myself for all that I wasn’t.  I can catalog a list of what I didn’t do to him that was done to me, and I can catalog a list of what I did, and didn’t do that could have made his life better.

Sometimes I was a real shit.  Sometimes my selfishness, and lack of perspective, or just self-righteous justifications, ruled the day.  I wish I had done better.

I forgive me because I haven’t yet.  My guilt and shame have made my life a tough place to be, and I yelled and lived so much in my anger when I was raising him, and I’m sure that caused lasting harm.

I think I made him afraid of emotions, afraid that they would always overwhelm him, so it’s better not to have them.

I forgive myself for causing his anxiety, or adding to his challenges in this unforgiving life.  While I appreciate his forgiveness, it’s most important that I stop adding more shame.  At my worst, I worry that I’m unable to change – that I wouldn’t be any better if I could do it over.  I’m grateful we need not find out.

I forgive me for not caring enough about myself, for not having a fight reaction when my flight reaction was dissociation rather than getting myself out of the situation.  I forgive myself for not being stronger, more willful.

I’ve learned how to fight – how to scratch, and kick, and tear skin – to make sure I have some DNA.  I almost welcome anyone to try to mess with me now, now that my rage is outward, and I’m no longer cowed.  I could have prevented so much harm, but I think it’s better to learn late than not at all.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current.

Writing 101 – Three Songs of Importance

Seasons In The Sun, Terry Jacks.  No, it’s not important to me now – it’s not even that great a song – but when I was a kid, hearing that song for the first time, it was so sad.  Someone who sounded young was dying!  He was telling his friends and his father, and his little daughter, Michelle, (or at least that’s how I interpreted the lyrics) how hard it was to die, how much he would miss everything.  It was the first time I thought about death from a first person point of view, and it was heartbreaking, and I totally got it. I wished I could save him.

You May Be Right, and My Life, Billy Joel. I had a messed up childhood and Billy Joel provided an outlet for my anger at the world. You think I’m crazy?  Well, maybe I am, but maybe crazy is what you need to survive this world, and ‘I don’t care what you say anymore, this is my life, go ahead with your own life, leave me alone’.  I remember friends telling me that my posturing looked like I had a ‘stay away from me’ note taped to my back.  Sadly that never stopped the predators.

Stevie Wonder provided the backdrop to much of my childhood and young adult life, starting with several songs on his, Songs In The Key Of Life, album, and continuing to this day.

During one of the most difficult periods of my life I particularly resonated with You Will Know:

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

Writing 101, Day Seventeen, Fear With A Twist

One of my worst fears?  That the bartender won’t bring my drink soon enough!  That’s my fear with a twist – get it?

Fine, a real fear. I could say something pedestrian and banal like ‘I’ll never find love’, or ‘dying alone’, etcetera, but an honest fear is dying of AIDS, or being burned alive.

The context is ‘address one of your worst fears’.  Of the two mentioned above, being burned alive is probably the worst because there are good drugs for AIDS, but I watched a friend perish from AIDS, each day worse than the last, his broken body wracked with pain, blistering sores, fever, vomiting, diarrhea, and he endured each new opportunistic bacteria, fungus, or virus that destroyed his fragile immune system.

Maybe being burned alive is a piece of cake after that, but I don’t know.  I don’t want to find out.  This was a stupid fucking exercise, and I’m not even sure why I did it, but there, it’s done.

Powerless

Will gun control help?  The argument goes that law-abiding citizens don’t commit crimes, criminals do, or the mentally ill do.  A twenty year-old who shot and killed twenty-seven people, twenty of whom were grammar students is also dead, so there’s no further discovery into his motives, his thoughts, his state of mind.  It should be obvious, I know: he was mentally disturbed.  He lacked empathy, he wasn’t rational – because who could shoot and kill anyone without being insane if you’re not on a battlefield or otherwise defending yourself?

But, what happened to him?  What did he live with that made him deliberately kill children?

There are many who disagree with me, but I think we need more restrictive gun laws including the types of guns citizens have access to, the types of ammunition, and yearly mental-health check-ups of registered gun owners.  That won’t stop the criminals, but it might limit some of the guns, or some types of ammunition.  I think citizens need the 2nd Amendment because a well-regulated militia is necessary for the people to defend themselves against enemies foreign and domestic, and we’re at a point in our history where we already live in a de facto police state as we’ve seen the police grow more militarized, and we’ve seen how police in America uphold corporate and government interests above the citizenry’s interest.

I’m brokenhearted for the families who lost a child, or children, today, and in my powerlessness, all I can ask is ‘why’, and ‘what can we do to lessen the chances of repetition’?

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

More Interesting Times

I’ve been talking with several women friends over the last few weeks who I’ve found in nearly the same position as I am.  Financials are terrible, prospects dim – and none of us are blaming President Obama.  We’re smart enough to understand that the republicans in Congress had a mandate to make President Obama a one-term President, and I hope they’re wrong.  Mitt Romney would be a ghastly choice as President.  The republicans in Congress have consistently blocked legislation, have not worked on jobs, as they said they would, and this hell we’re currently in started a long time ago.  Who was the last President to balance the budget?  Bill Clinton.  The wars we’ve been in, and are still in, the tax cuts for the rich, regulation repeal, and Citizen’s United vs. The Federal Election Commission, along with an already dire need for campaign finance reform before that disastrous Citizen’s United decision sided with corporations and made political spending – made money – a form of ‘free speech’, have all contributed to the place we’re now in.

Republican leaders know that there is no way America would elect Mitt Romney, so they’ve changed voter laws in many states where republicans are in power.  Of course, the changed voter rules make it disproportionately harder for minorities and those with low-incomes to vote.  Voter suppression is far more dangerous to our democracy than voter fraud, of which there is little, even though it does happen.  It also happens with all parties and not with one political faction.

Democracy requires vigilance, but when you have campaign money flowing like never before from large companies who no longer have to disclose their donors, and from individuals like the Koch brothers who can lose a million dollars and not notice, the requirements of maintaining a healthy democracy are seriously impinged – which, of course, is the new republican strategy.  Those hate-filled extremists seek to re-institute ‘unfettered capitalism’, with an added dose of theocracy.  Because we all miss the days when there were no labor laws keeping our children out of factories and coal mines, etc., and back when companies could dump raw sewage and toxic chemicals wherever they wanted because no one was stopping them.  Ah, yes, those were the days…  Combining a free-for-all market with theocracy will be a powerful cocktail to help keep the lowly from rising up, at least until another revolution happens.  It’s a short step to say that GOD wants you where you are in life or you would have been born rich, or able to otherwise succeed.  And why wouldn’t those with power and money want that?  They’ll never have to pay the piper, and nor will their successive generations with their trust funds and iron grip on the nation.  It’s only the middle class and the poor who will suffer even more.

I wonder how many people know about the Mormon mandate to take over the United States Government?  It is the only religion with that express purpose.  Other religions try to inject their beliefs into legislation, and would like to make America a theocracy on principle, but Mormon leaders indoctrinate their followers to believe that Mormons will rule America.  I don’t care what people personally believe, but when they try to legislate their fanaticism, that’s when it gets ugly.

Are people paying attention to what’s been happening?  Birth control, abortion rights, equal pay for equal work – all on the line!  Stopping that crazy train is of utmost importance, and that requires participation in our democracy by voting, being politically educated, and actively supporting candidates who will fight to retain the rights that were already fought and died over.  We’re not going back to those dark times, not if I can help it.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

Hell Hath No Fury Like Mine

I’ve heard about those who lives are lived ‘in quiet desperation’, and we’ve all seen or witnessed loud desperation – those vivid, stark, images of traumatized humanity – children with bellies distended, flesh barely covering their bones, their mothers and fathers, if alive, often in the same condition.  These are the scenes that remind me why humanity is its own worst enemy.  If there is a God, do you think it’s going to make me burn for my disbelief while leaders who could relieve suffering, deny their people adequate food, and water, while directing their military to kill innocents, and rape their country’s women and children as a strategy?  Foreign aid rarely reaches those who need it, and brutal regimes are necessary to maintain power and control.

Maybe that’s the law of this world: use or be used, eat or be eaten.  It’s a vicious world when resources are slim or difficult to access.  Maybe God exists and is a bastard, but I would never give fealty to such a one, even though it could mean unending torment.  Perhaps, God is, as I suspect, the greatest farce ever perpetrated on humanity.  Their book, a clever, self-fulfilling prophecy.  Anyone can include facts in a narrative in an attempt to bolster their argument.  People have always had high intelligence or they wouldn’t have evolved as far as they have.  Adaptability is the key to survival, not necessarily brute strength or stellar skills, although those get you the furthest if you can adapt well.

My favorite Stephen F. Roberts quote is:

“I contend that we are both atheists. I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours.”

I know I have it easy, living in a part of the world where resources are abundant and easily accessible.  Sadly, we all can’t live here, and I know many individuals and organizations do their best to give aid to those in need all over the world – but that need never ends.

Focusing on situations that I cannot effect, except by bringing attention to it, does not serve me in living my life.  I almost have a survivor guilt for the relative abundance in my life.  So, I can choose to enter the Peace Corps, or align with some other organization that serves the most destitute, desperate areas of the world  Or, I can remain selfishly in my own little world, doing my best to survive, and throwing my measly fifty dollars a year at problems fifty million would just begin to address.  I can also ‘pray for them’ so I feel better even though it does nothing for them.  If you’re a believer, you’ll smugly think to yourself that prayer works, but it only works if it impels you to act, and that action doesn’t need your prayers.

“Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able?  Then he is not omnipotent.  Is he able, but not willing?  Then he is malevolent.  Is he both able and willing?  Then whence cometh evil?  Is he neither able nor willing?  Then why call him God?”
– Epicurus [341-270 B.C.]

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

Picture This

The picture I’m viewing shows you and some of your family.  I haven’t seen your sisters in a while and I’m shocked by their age.  In my mind they’ve never changed.  I look again, my sight adjusted, and ‘oh, yes, now I see her as she was, and as she is, both’.  I mourn for those just meeting her, but I shouldn’t because I’m supposing that the past holds more value than today, and that’s my judgment, not anyone else’s.  My life orientation has grown to encompass so much more than I could possibly know from my old, stunted, vantage point.

My son, his friends, and I, are driving to the beach.  One of his friends, a young man barely out of his teens, speaks disdainfully of a woman we pass as we drive.  She’s in a white convertible Volkswagen Bug, a huge pink flower sits in the built in dashboard vase.

He says with a laugh that she’s trying to be ‘younger than she is’ by having that flower in the vase and the shirt she’s wearing.  I react internally, feeling myself withdraw, stung by his words that felt directed at me.  I chuckle, as though in agreement – a betrayal.  I wish I had been better prepared to parry, but I forfeited instead.

No, perspective-lacking boy, she’s not acting younger than she is – she’s being exactly who she is.  The secret that no one has told you yet, dear boy/man, is that this is it.  You are who you are.  You will grow and change and choose whatever works for you, but it’s all a façade.  You do your best to represent who you truly are, but can a picture do justice to the moment you took it?  You’re the only one who feels what it was like to be in that moment.  Maybe there was a slight breeze, and you felt free and caressed by the wind, perhaps by some otherworldly being or force, then.  Maybe the sun was bearing down on you, or a chill in the air made it difficult to keep your hand steady as you snapped the picture.

Until you’ve lived a full life, you have no valid basis to judge someone beyond your years on simple matters, even though you will.  What I wish I had known is that my body would change, but the essential me wouldn’t.  Maybe some people do change radically as they age, and all of us continue to grow – whether we like and/or accept it, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

I have loathed the term ‘act your age’ since I was in my teens.  Was there a manual that you came with that I somehow missed?  No, you want me to act, or be, at your comfort level, which has nothing to do with me.  I get that there are circumstances where we need consideration of others, and I think that’s what maturity is about, but otherwise, the only ‘rules’ are the ones you give yourself, or try to impose on others.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

Current Events

I’ve been reading, Confidence Men, by Ron Suskind, and while it hasn’t made me detest the Financial Industry and the Federal Government more, the book has framed a better context for my ire.  I’m grateful to understand more about what happened and why, and I know that we’re a nation governed by avarice far more than ever before, checked only by revolt of those it harms the most.

Occupy Wall Street was always going to happen because there’s no way the current system could continue and not experience blow-back.  We might be poor, but we’re not stupid, although I’m betting that’s how many of the four-hundred richest people in this country like to frame it to themselves.  Ignorance is one thing, stupidity is quite another.  As soon as the ignorant become educated, they get angry.  You can’t enslave a people forever, not if they have any sense of self.  You can’t rip us off and tell us it’s our own fault for very long without the ruse starting to come apart.

The irony is that so many of us are amenable to getting by with some moderate comfort.  I believe that most Americans are hard workers.  I know many people, in my blue-collar community, who work to live, and will do that until it becomes impossible due to health issues (in themselves, or in their family, or to others they care enough about to try to help out) or from job losses.  The working class isn’t asking for the situation to reverse, they’re asking for human decency.  We live in a rich nation that doesn’t provide affordable health care, when it absolutely could; our nation doesn’t provide decent jobs or living wages, when it absolutely could, and our government has seemed to have forgotten about providing for the common good, about being a voice for the voiceless, and power for the powerless, because of all the money in politics.

I don’t know what the best solution is, but there are many fixes or stop-gap measures proposed but not being implemented.  The ‘let them die’ crowd will always be with us, but that doesn’t mean they should be listened to, because if it were their own children or family, I doubt they’d be euthanizing them.  Even Ayn Rand took the Social Security and Medicare that she hoped to see dismantled.

Congress having a nine percent approval rating shows that whatever side of the aisle you sit on or root for, nothing is being done except yelling back and forth.  We need action that addresses the problems of the ninety-nine percent, because the one-percent will be just fine, no matter what happens.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

Possible Hit And Run

One of my brothers was hit by a car last night.  He remembers hearing screeching tires and the next thing he knew he was looking at first responders.  I can’t remember if he said he was walking or riding his bike.

His collar-bone is broken, and he’s badly bruised, but alive.  I called the police and they said they could release the accident report to a family member in person, but that requires driving back down to Cape Cod, and I can’t do that now.  We don’t yet know if it was a hit and run, but there had to have been witnesses.  It happened on the main drag, but it was after dark.

My brother sounded cheerful when I talked to him, but he’s also drugged up, so it’s hard to know how he’s really doing.

I feel this intense guilt, like I am responsible for my brother because that’s how it was when we were kids.  There were six of us children, and the older two boys were pals, and my older two sisters were united against me much of the time, and my default family person was my younger brother.  I wanted to be with my sisters, not my stupid younger brother.

That’s probably where the guilt I feel came from.  He was the only family member who accepted me and wanted me around, but I didn’t want the same thing.  We did laugh a lot together as we got older and he wasn’t such an idiot anymore, but I’ve never felt as endeared to him as he seems to feel toward me.  I suppose I should feel closer to him because we are the nearest in age, and were the last kids in a violent, destructive family, but my brother also has A.D.D., maybe even Asperger’s Syndrome, and that has been difficult to deal with as well.

I suppose it’s telling that I believe I wasn’t present enough for my brother, or I somehow caused his deficits by not being a good sister, when where the hell were my parents?

I am so tired of trying to explain my weirdness to people so that they can understand me.  I feel like I am a category of human being unto myself, belonging to a small group of freaks in a dark circus, only I never joined up.  My membership is by default, and if I had joined, I’d either want to be the beautiful lady who rides the elephant, or one of the acrobats.

I get it that these are the ‘cards I was dealt’ – a fucking insipid metaphor if I ever heard one – and I am doing my best to learn how to cheat – believe me – because life always plays with a loaded deck.

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.

Evocation

I’m evoking the indomitable spirit that I came into this world with.  I was a handful as a toddler, my mother told me.  I was not someone to be trifled with, even at two.  I learned how to be cowed because of the violence I lived with, but staying oppressed has never been my nature.  My mother says that I was always vocal about what I liked and didn’t like.  I told her I was sorry for being a complainer, and she was quick to correct me that I never complained, I just let everyone know how I felt.  I appreciate my mother making that distinction.  I have never lost that quality, but I know it’s not always a strength.

I do pretty well in keeping quiet and trying to accept how things are rather than how I wish they were, but I can forgive myself more knowing that it’s a personality trait and not just dissatisfaction with life.  If I have a purpose, and that quirk has never left me, I imagine that I am one of those people who provides an irritant until things change.  Maintaining the status quo doesn’t allow creativity to flourish.

I can’t see myself as others see me, but I know that I’ve changed over the years, and I do the best I can in my life.  I probably have less anger than fear at this point in my life, but the fear that remains sometimes stops me from pursuing my dreams.  Anger is often useful to replace fear or procrastination.  Unfortunately, the kind of anger my father had is usually sparked to memory when I’m angry, so it can also hurt more than help me.

Fortunately, I have an easy sense of humor which can trump both anger and fear.  I have also found friends everywhere I’ve lived or gone, which has helped me through this life, and I enjoy the variety of personalities in this world.  When I stayed at the hostel in Israel, the owners, Rachel and Rahmin, were wonderful hosts, and I was usually in the breakfast room before anyone else (or perhaps after everyone else!), but I got a chance to have conversations with Rachel on everything from religion and politics to the many people she has seen come and go through the years of running the hostel, and I was flattered that she felt I was one of the better ones.  One of Rachel’s friends came to Haifa to stay for a week a few days after I arrived and we shared the women’s dorm for the rest of the week.  She was a lovely, personable woman and we also talked a lot about life and humanity’s follies.

I was on a spiritual quest, and ironically found out that the path I was on was not the path for me in a traditional sense, but I still love aspects of the religion I was following at the time.  I found out that I cannot tolerate having my life micro-managed by some unseen, unknowable essence, and while religions aren’t usually horrible, the followers can be.

I’m grateful that my early experiences made it nearly impossible for me to be a faithful follower or believer in anything.  As a result, I’m forced to believe in myself, and trust that I’m where I’m supposed to be.  It’s somewhat ‘Zen’-like that it’s the right path for me because I’m on it, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy walk.

I remember when I first got into a recovery group I learned that we were ‘trudging the road to happy destiny’, not skipping it.  The recovery community has its own dysfunction through its followers, but I always defaulted to the founders who stated they ‘knew but a little’, that more would ‘constantly be revealed’.  I began understanding that whenever you concretize a fluid principle, it starts to lose its meaning and value.

I especially appreciate Grandma Moses’ statement that: “Life is what you make it.  Always has been, always will be.”

*

*

*

© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth’s Blog, 2010 – infinity.