Upstate NY Autumn Light

This Morning

 I slept well and woke refreshed.

My cup of coffee was particularly delicious. As I poured from carafe to mug, I noticed how smooth it was, how the aroma wafted up to me.

My child and I enjoyed some bantering and conversation preparing for and driving to school. 

It was a peaceful, quietly joyful morning.

These observations are worth noting and appreciating, because doing so reinforces them. This post is an antidote to the doomscrolling, the slightly tight and tense way I inhabit my body, the default position of general, low-level foreboding.

"Yes, and the luminous and shocking beauty of the everyday is something I try to remain alert to, if only as an antidote to the chronic cynicism and disenchantment that seems to surround everything, these days. It tells me that, despite how debased or corrupt we are told humanity is and how degraded the world has become, it just keeps on being beautiful. It can't help it."
 - Nick Cave and Seán O'Hagan
Faith, Hope and Carnage
booklover
& still, the waves

Release From Perpetual Childhood

All I want for my 60th birthday is for you to give this your time and attention, and to let me know you’ve read it. I don't need a discussion. One of the burdens of being gifted with psychological insight is that I understand context. I understand how life shapes people, and that “hurt people hurt people.” I have spent decades of my life doing this regarding my parents, particularly Dad. I have used this compassion for him against myself; it has been a tool I use to disregard the actual damage he inflicted on me. I’ve told myself: he came from poverty, abuse, Catholicism, death of his father at 14, is probably autistic, has anxiety disorder. He provided a roof, food, clothing, financial support. He did not physically beat me regularly; he did not sexually abuse me. He “did the best he could.”

But in reality, I grew up without a sense of self, feeling worthless, scared, defensive, withdrawn, needing external validation to justify my existence. And while Mom contributed (especially by using me as her therapist to cope with the marriage), the bulk of responsibility falls on Dad’s shoulders. He did not see or treat me as a person for the first three decades of my life. He once made a comment at a family gathering (in 2006?) that we were probably terrified of him as kids. That oblique reference stuck with me, and I realized it was the closest he would ever come of admitting the damage he had done to us. And yes, once I got my master’s degree and met A, then married and had a kid, his regard shifted toward more respect and some admiration for my creative talents (writing and art) and intelligence. By then it was too late for me to care. The damage he wrought outweighed it. These are some of my most potent memories of him in relationship with me.

Physical

• One time while camping, we were packing up very early to leave, around 7 a.m. I was probably in middle school. I happened to shut the car door too hard, and he reacted by grabbing me and snarling not to do that.

• When I was really little, I remember him holding me while we were on a big boat, like a ferry, and him pretending that he was going to let me fall; it terrified me. 

• I remember him whipping my legs with a belt when I was around 9 or 10. It was summertime. I’d been mean to Tony and pushed him. Then I had to go to swim lessons with my obviously whipped legs. 

• At 26, home on spring break from college, a conversation about school and money escalated, and I tried to pause it. I suggested we talk when we were calmer and tried to leave the room. He became enraged and came at me to prevent me from walking away from him. T actually had to intervene to keep him from my physically.

• There was zero physical affection from him; no security or safety.

Emotional

• As an under-10 child, I felt that his default toward me was disapproval and dislike; as a teen I thought he was angry at me and that he hated me.

• His method of punishment in adolescence was to ground me indefinitely (no seeing friends, no phone use, no going anywhere other than school and church); not knowing when this would end was torment.

• When he was angry at me, he would scream, “You are not my daughter!” 

• In high school when angry with me, he would threaten to send me away to a boarding school. 

• He was angry and punitive regarding math struggles in elementary school; I felt stupid.

• I had a boy penpal from another country in high school. Once, I got a letter and wrote back and asked Dad for a stamp. He raged at me for asking, because he thought I hadn’t waited long enough after receiving the letter. I was showing I was “too eager.”

• Numerous times in high school and my 20s, in anger he said I was a loser and I would never finish anything.

• His general demeanor and emotional transmission was terrifying; just existing in the house felt dangerous.

• In high school, he’d rage at Mom late at night. I could hear it from my bed. I remember once standing at the top of the stairs, screaming “Stop it! Stop iiiitt!” He came to the bottom of the stairs and told me to mind my business. 

• When I moved back in at 25 to pay off debt, he sat me down and told me I was a “guest” and not to interfere with T’s last year of high school. Any infractions would result in me getting kicked out.

• As a child/teen, any time I mentioned a career I might like, he negated it mostly using reasons having to do with my personality (except teaching, which he said there was a glut of teachers); I couldn’t be a journalist because I wasn’t “competitive enough.” I couldn’t be a counselor because I was “too sensitive.”

• His psychological power over me continued into my mid-20s. I remember when I wrote a letter to him explaining that I decided I was going to study psychology, despite it not having financial potential, for the sake of my interest in it. I had been living independently and paying my own way for years, yet I still felt I had to make a case to him. 

• At 19, I was working full-time for a dentist who went on eight weeks vacation in the winter without paying me. Without income I wasn’t going to be able to pay rent. I was so scared and depressed with my life. Having hardly any money, I shoplifted Nytol, because I was going to commit suicide. I happened to get arrested. I was too scared to tell Dad because I was certain he would kick me out of the house. He ended up not doing so, but the point is that his abuse of me had led me to assume this. 

• No care was expressed toward my emotional state that led me to feeling suicidal.

• He forbade me going to therapy as long as I lived under his roof, which I ignored. But I had to keep it secret.

• He ordered me to go to church as long as I lived under his roof, which I finally rebelled against at 20 and told him I’d just lie and say I did. 

Neglect

• I felt invisible to him; he expressed no interest in what I thought, wanted, or needed, and elicited no conversations. He was utterly incurious about me.

• After T was born, I held even less importance, because the SON, especially a genius son, had been given to him. (I do not fault T in any way for this; he didn’t choose it.) 

• He refused to give me rides for extracurricular activities. I remember he got so angry once when an introductory Junior Achievement session let out later than expected. He raged as if it was my fault. So, I just stopped joining anything after 9th grade.

• He basically ignored me as an adolescent; there were days and weeks he did not speak to me.

• In elementary school I desperately wanted to join school band and play flute; he would not let me join. It was out of the question to even discuss.

• I taught myself to ride a bike on my best friend’s bike at age 5. I desperately wanted a bike, but he said “No bike until 5th grade.” I felt so babyish and stupid using the tricycle. Mom snuck behind him and got me a used bike in 4th grade, which somehow I was allowed to keep. 

• I was nothing to him. I was his burden, something to provide for and get married off and out of the house. That message came through clearly in the atmosphere of the household. 

• I was nearly 30 when I finally realized I am really, really intelligent; his utter disregard for me all those years kept me from really seeing this.

Financial

• In my junior year of high school I worked at the state fair demonstration kitchen with my friend S. I earned $200 for two weeks. S got to use her earnings as she wanted. Dad made me put all but $20 in the bank.

• He would not allow me to buy my own stereo or boombox while I lived at home, even at age 18, 19, 20, when I was paying rent to live there.

• I paid rent and bought my own groceries after age 18 while living at the house.

• I dearly wanted a 10-speed bike for all of high school. I researched them and saved money. I tried to present this to him, and he exploded. The subject was closed; he would not even hear me out.

• He refused to fill out the FAFSA form which is required for applying for student loans.

• After a year at OCC trying to study a major he deemed acceptable, I decided to take a break and look for work. I told him I didn’t want to waste his money. But only two weeks after I told him, I had not gotten a job yet. He screamed me that I was “screwing” him. 

• He used my sisters’ mistakes against me: L left college after one year, so he decreed that I would not be allowed to go away to college. E borrowed his money to buy her car, and apparently stopped paying on the loan at some point. In response he forbade me to even get a driver’s license while I live under his roof. I was 20 when I moved out, and 21 when I got a license. 

• When I wanted to go full-time to college in my later 20s, I couldn’t get enough financial aid. He offered to loan me $8000, with the following conditions: I was to pay it in full within five years of the loan issue; I could not get a car, take a vacation, get married, or have a child during that period; I would work all of my breaks at a temp job. It was demeaning, and I felt horrible about accepting the terms. I talked with Mom, and she replied that if I really wanted to get the degree, I would have to. So I did, with misgiving.

• When I later proposed to take summer classes so I could graduate sooner and start repayment (I was so worried about how I would repay it), he became enraged that I was trying to change the contract. (That’s when he came at me and T intervened.) That’s the moment I woke up and said “no more,” and decided my self-respect was worth more than the degree, and left.

• The day after the incident, I met Mom for coffee. She handed a memo to me from him, which told me I “bit the hand” that fed me, because he had intended to forgive the loan upon completion. And that I was to return the house key, not initiate any contact with him, to wait until he decided to engage with me. Oh, and the money he’d “loaned” me at that point ($3000) would be forgiven provided I showed him passing grades for the year.

• After being arrested, he told me he would not be engaging a lawyer for guidance. (I did not end up needing one, but I was extremely scared of what would happen.)

After re-reading all this, I’m astounded that I kept any contact with him at all over the years. Any non-family member reading this would be as well. His sperm provided half my DNA and gave me the opportunity to be embodied. He provided the basics and the occasional kind gesture, such as building me a bookcase or typing table. He did the bare minimum a parent is supposed to do for a child. But in all aspects of being a FATHER, I give him a FAILING grade. He treated me as his possession. He wielded power over me not recklessly, but with cruelty. He used his energy in an effort to kill my spirit. And he nearly succeeded.

And so on this father’s day in 2023, I lay him to rest. He is dead to me. I am done.

The Alphabet of Right Now 3/24/23

 

A - Addicted: not a fan of my continued reflexive dependence on my phone.

B - Buddha: according to the teachers, I am one.

C - Control: so much of my energy is spent trying to control what is out of my hands.

D - Dread: the news evokes this in me

E - Eating: nearly vegetarian now; tofu and nutritional yeast are mainstays.

F - Fun: not having enough these days.

G - Gender: an ever-present topic in the household, discussions driven by my child.

H- Hoppy: the rabbit is very happy to be outside now that the rain stopped.

I - Injury: my left knee has, I think, a meniscus tear; feeling that pain more.

J - Jeans: haven't worn them in three years. No regrets.

K - Knowledge: I spend my days chasing random curiosities.

L - Lonely: it's strange to feel this, given my full life. 

M - Mental health: the stigma is abating.

N - Narrow: my life path lately.

O - Objective: feeling a need for one; goals, too.

P - Poppies: they are blooming wildly everywhere.

Q - Quiet: I enjoy it.

R - Rest: getting a good amount.

S - Singing: lately singing along to Taylor Swift songs.

T - Time: how is it already end of March?

U - Useful: a state of being I enjoy.

V - Voice: wonder where mine is.

W - War: how the world feels to me

X - X: it marks the spot.

Y - Yard: it is lush and green and overgrown.

Z - Zoomies: what Misty the rabbit does when she's happy.

Like Sands Through the Hourglass

Today is my 59th birthday. It's not a milestone number, but in reality I'm entering my 60th year of life. So I have a birthday wish, and since I didn't wish it while blowing out birthday candles I can say it here. 

Dear Life,

For my birthday, I would like to ask for 30 more years of healthy living. There is so much to see and do: people to serve, books to read, a child to raise, a husband to retire with, art to make. And by healthy living, I mean in a condition where I can do activities of daily living, can read and hear (with aids if needed), some hiking and travel, without moderate to severe pain, and with any chronic medical issues managed and controlled. I know this is very specific, but I figure if I am asking you for this, it would help to be as clear as possible. 

With deep gratitude,

Aenigma

One Book, Many Books

 "And then, when she's finished and the book ventures out into the world, the readers take their turn, and here another kind of comingling occurs. Because the reader is not a passive receptacle for a book's content. Not at all. You are our collaborators, our conspirators, breathing new life into us. And because every reader is unique, each of you makes each of us mean differently, regardless of what's written on our pages. Thus, one book, when read by different readers, becomes different books, becomes an ever-changing array of books that flows through human consciousness like a wave. Pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli. According to the capabilities of the reader, books have their own destinies."

                --Ruth Ozeki, The Book of Form and Emptiness

 

The Alphabet of Right Now

I want to write, but my thoughts wander off like toddlers. So I'm borrowing a technique from a friend.

A - Air conditioning: so very grateful for it, despite that it's not strong enough to cool the upstairs.

B - Birthday: mine is coming up, and for the first time in my life I feel disinterest in acknowledging or celebrating in any way.

C - Covid: no longer has my child in its grip, and Hub and I managed to evade it.

D - Dinner: will I cook tonight? Yesterday it was 102, just too hot.

E - Elusive: my motivation to create.

F - Fruit: enjoying this season's cherries, strawberries, blackberries.

G - Gender: an ever-present topic in the household, discussions driven by my child.

H- Household: it needs attention, particularly the cobwebs.

I - Ice Cream: what I had for dinner yesterday.

J - Joints: a little creaky today.

K - Klondike bar: mint chocolate chip, "making squares cool since 1922."

L - Lonely & Letters: feeling it around the edges of my life, writing snail mail to friends.

M - Monterey: new OS upgrade on my Mac, which has nifty features (or so it claims).

N - Nighttime: so enjoying how late it descends this time of year.

O - Observing: a practice I enjoy; right now out my window I observe a crow preening its wings as it sits at the top of a tree.

P - Purging: wanting to clear out bookshelves and closets.

Q - Quilt: trying to decide to let go of one used by my mother in childhood, to which I have no attachment and am tired of storing it in the closet.

R - Reading: voraciously, read 11 books in the last two weeks.

S - Sound: noticing the cries of crows, the tap of the keys, my husband talking in a meeting, my tinnitus ever-present.

T - Temperature: intensely hot weather, bleaching life of energy.

U - Ukraine: still at war, struggling.

V - Voluminous: how I'm feeling lately.

W - Water: lovely, cold, lifegiving; being sure to water trees and potted plants in the heat.

X - Xenolith: I had to look this up; a rock fragment within a rock; X is a difficult letter.

Y - Yes: what to I want to say "yes" to?

Z - Zazen: doing it regularly, and it's hard as ever.

The Meaning of the Tag Lines

Here's an explanation about the taglines -- they are instructions to myself.

In July 2019 I made a commitment to myself to actually do my meditation practice daily. Up to that point, I waffled and paid lip service. I lowered the bar on daily meditation and decided that deliberately pausing for at least one minute counted. But I had to do it every day, and not fool myself. To give myself a visual reminder of this commitment, I had three small silver rings made with one of those statements on each. 

On the inside of each ring is a Buddhist word related to it -- a "secret message" to myself.

• Do your practice - shikantaza, which is the Japanese translation for the Chinese term zazen, which means "just sitting."

• Attention is love - samadhi, a Sanskrit word that means non-distracted awareness. My teacher often says, "What you pay attention to grows."

• Listen to silence - bodhi svaha, the last words of the Heart Sutra, meaning awakening call (I read it's like amen. Of note is that bodhi is a feminine noun.) Meditation is silent awareness. That itself is enlightenment!

I used Insight Timer to meditate, which I find motivating because I can see the dailiness of it, and it reinforces my discipline. And for two years, I did keep my commitment to daily sitting. Then I decided Insight Timer was a crutch and I "should" just be able to sit without it. That experiment failed, and after a few months I decided that whatever supported my practice was acceptable! I am back to daily sitting. A colleague calls it "the holy pause."

Prayer Doesn't Work; Praying Does

Denise Levertov writes: 

“With what radiant joy he turns to you, and raises you to your feet, and strokes your disheveled hair, and holds you, holds you, holds you close and tenderly—before he vanishes.” 

The homie Garry says, “God is the intake of breath and we are the exhaling of it. So… we need to take every breath personally.” Prayer is as sustaining as a breath and not a plea to God to keep us safe from dangers and temptations or begging for favors. For example: “God answers knee-mails.” Prayer doesn’t work; praying does. Not sure how else we breathe in the God of unfathomable compassion if not by our own spiritual practice and silent solitude. This allows us to land on God’s oceanic shore and it organizes things for us.

The Whole Language: The Power of Extravagant Tenderness
by Gregory Boyle

Confession

I have a confession. I was not enthusiastic about going camping. We began doing it when G was four, and I've loved it. I grew up camping, and many of my favorite memories are of those trips. Once we arrive and settle in, it's lovely. But there is a lot of prep beforehand, especially with food. H likes to seal food well so it stays sanitary in the cooler, and we try to bring all that we need from the beginning. This year, H and I have new dietary considerations which required us to reconfigure the menu. I felt so much resistance to doing all this. And yet it was going to be camping with friends, one of the first times in years, something H has longed for. And camping is H's relaxation. It's where he rests and becomes refreshed. It's really critical for his health. G loves going. But when G came down sick, a part of me was relieved. I don't feel very friendly toward myself about that. 

This begs the perennial question: why do I resist and avoid actions that support my well-being? I feel better when I walk daily, eat healthy, go camping, talk with friends, make art -- but I do not do them! About the only thing I consistently do that I know is good for me is read books. Sometimes I even use reading as a form of escape or hiding. I did that for years. Reading is as vital to me as breathing.

Returning to work in the profession I abandoned 18 years ago has been rejuvenating. I love doing it. And I don't resist it. Is it because I am paid for it? In part, yes. There is something gratifying about providing service that others value and recognize. But it's also because it makes me happy to do this work. It uses my gifts. It allows me to engage intimately with people. Even more so, I love doing this work because I know I am good at it, and I am equipped to do it. What I didn't grok 18 years ago at the start of the career is something I understand now in my being: I am enough. Knowing this gives confidence, clarity, an affirmation of what is called appropriate entitlement. And finally, I am able to do to consistently because I know other people depend on me to show up.

Doing this work with others brings me to a place or state similar to when I make art: wholly engaged, vibrant, in flow, aligned with the universe. I also engage this state when writing, though somewhat less so, because writing requires fumbling around a bit more. Reading brings me to this state as well, but not with the same presence. Reading is a form of consumption and creation, but the work is entirely internal. Hmm. I feel I am on the verge of understanding something for myself, but need to percolate a bit more.