Do You Believe in Magic?

There are people who carry way more than they should in this world. They carry the burdens of their children, their spouses, their bosses, foreign countries, alien life forms, and angels in heavenly places. There are some who even carry the burdens of God, and just how arrogant is that, if I might ask? And, yes, I can ask, as I will admit I was once one of those people. I still have moments when I am drawn into the black hole vacuum of some needy person who is carrying too much weight and needs a partner to shoulder it, a hero to come from the heavens and take away their pain. Somehow these types of people can convince us that we are capable of taking away all their pain, and it's just so flattering to believe that. I soon find myself thinking, "Well, if he/she thinks I can solve all these problems, then maybe I can! I can and I will!" I haven't fallen into that trap in awhile, until yesterday.

I have been counseling children and families for almost 10 years, and there is a subtype of parents I encounter-- the desperate parents. These parents are having great difficulty accepting that they have a child with any type of disability or illness. Understandably, the pain of this type of acceptance is very scary and crushing. I drift in and out of acceptance regarding my own children's disabilities, but I accept it or I go crazy. That's the only two options unfortunately. Nonetheless, there are parents who hold onto hope that someday some magical person will come along with magic wand in hand, tap the head of their child and, all ADHD will disappear. Autism will shrink to nothing or severe mental illness will turn to mist and vanish. This magical person must only appear and be willing to impart her divine wisdom and allow their child to sit in her most holy presence, and all will be well.

I am getting better at spotting these types of parents, because I am prone to buying into their grandiose plans for me and their child. One of the first telltale signs is that many of these parents actually say something like this,"We have been to so many doctors and I am just exhausted with this process. Come work your magic!" I usually try to burst that bubble right from the start with, "Well, I hate to tell you this but you're going to learn it about me eventually... I'm human, no magic, sorry." Usually they don't believe me the first few times and continue to try to force magic from me. When the magic persists on not "working," then I begin seeing anger. It often sounds like this, "What have you been doing with my child all this time? All I ever see you do is playing with them. How is that going to help them!? Look, I really need help here! This is not what I thought it was going to be. I need you to talk to her teacher, and could you please tell her case manager that I need those housing forms? I'm not even sure I like this doctor anymore, are you going to be talking to him soon?" Essentially, this parent just took the enormous burden of caring for a sick or special needs child, held it out to me and asked, "Are you going to take this crap off my shoulders or not?"

Be forewarned, if you take the bait (and I have), this is what will play out. You, the therapist (or friend, spouse, etc), will take over the role of shouldering this burden. You will begin making the phone calls, researching the internet, buying the books, emailing the doctor, calling meetings at school, and lecturing the child to get with the program. Therapy sessions turn into what Mom or Dad wants you working on rather than what the child brings to the table for the day. Child clients become defensive and shut down, whether passively or aggressively. Therapists begin to burn out, get angry with the child for not cooperating with the plan! Basically, I have taken the anger and denial from the parents and made it mine. In the meantime, you are not likely seeing much progress with the child with this type of approach. Thus, parents are getting angrier and applying even more pressure. Therapist starts working even harder, gets angrier. Less progress, parents apply more pressure, therapist wears out.

Oh,well... mistake spotted. Time for me to back up and go back to plain old humanity. It was kind of fun for awhile believing I had superhero powers. I almost thought I cured one this time, but no. I've seen good, healthy, slow and steady progress with a child. One more case of the humdrum, slow and laborious work, eating your therapeutic fruits and vegetables, and being only a small part of someone's lifetime of growth. That's just how we humans heal. I guess that's just how we therapists learn too. Drats.

Photo above found at: http://mehmeturgut.deviantart.com/art/pixie-s-magic-36077755

Crazy is an STD

One of the spiritual lessons I am in the midst of these days (and we are always in the midst of one, whether your recognize it or not) is better understanding my sexuality. My concept of sexuality has been corrupted by culture, childhood events, relationships, media of various forms, and much more. I'm definitely in the beginner classes, when it comes to understanding the magnitude of sexuality and how it encompasses our entire (human) being.

As God often does for me, He introduces a person or event into my life that becomes a perfect metaphor for what He's trying to teach me. I enjoy metaphor, use them often, and think in them often. Being our spiritual Daddy, He knows how we all learn best! A couple days ago our home computer became infected with a pervasive and pesky virus that eventually crashed the entire system. In researching this virus and how to clean it, I probably created even more devastation than was already there. I also had the honor of experiencing what I have learned in the computer world is called "the blue screen of death." When your computer gives you that blue screen screaming error... well, you're just toast. Yeah, I get that now. Thanks. This morning God dropped some insight into me like a pebble into a pond-- my sexuality is the core operating system for my entire life!

Our sexuality goes way beyond sex organs. Because I am admittedly still in the beginner classes here, I cannot rattle off for you the complete list of what falls under "sexuality," but I can tell you that you'll find much more than "genitalia" listed there. In fact, I'm beginning to realize that practically EVERYTHING about me falls under the category of my sexuality, and I am hard pressed to find what isn't listed there. My sexuality is my very self as a woman-- my creativity, my feelings and thoughts, my strengths and weaknesses, my emotional and spiritual energies, my gender identity and role on this planet as a woman. My sexuality is the very essence of everything else about me, the core operating system. God forbid it ever get infected with a virus. Been there, done that and it pretty much sucks.

I am no computer genius, but I know there are innermost programs operating on an unseen level that keep my computer healthy. These programs are the skeleton for every other operation I want to perform, kind of like the secret inner room of my hard drive. There is a secret inner room to my sexuality, where no one enters but God. If I allow my spouse, partner, friend, or any one else to go where only God can exist, I get infected. Then there is a middle room to my sexuality that is meant only for close intimate relationships. God permeates into this room as well and allows me to bring in my husband. This room is meant only for him and if I let someone else in, yes, I get infected. Just a side note, I am not talking about the kind of infection that requires a shot of penicillin! Even though the virus entered through this middle room, it worms its way into every area of my sexuality and every room becomes infected!

Then there are other outer rooms where it is good to allow safe people. It is vital to the health of my sexuality that I keep these outer rooms open, while also using good protection. I have to share the programs operating from the depths of my inner sexuality, because they are creative masterpieces from God and His gift to the world. To keep them to myself would just be a waste. But in that sharing, and in all moments of sharing and opening, I need good protection around me that I do not allow viruses to come in and infect the lush and fertile grounds of my sexuality/my encompassing self.

When we are infected in our sexuality, regardless of how the virus entered, it can manifest itself in a lot of dysfunctional patterns. We're most likely going to see it really wreaking havoc in our relationships. A healthy sexuality shares intimacy and honesty, but an infected system cannot perform this function. An infected sexuality also creates bad employees and bad bosses. We become selfish or conversely, a wide open door for any fool that wants to come in and pillage. We become neurotic, psychotic, codependent, lazy, workaholic, alcoholic, sexaholic, ragers, doormats and/or devoid of any self at all. Our thinking becomes illogical and distorted. We start to believe things about ourselves and the world that are so sick it then affects the way we behave. You see how a virus spreads and affects every area of our lives?

So now I'm wondering, what is good virus protection for sexuality and where can I get some? Well, naturally, foremost I guess that means keeping my innermost room healthy. That space for me and God needs to be clean, open to Him only, and visited regularly. He meets me there, I can go any time, and answers for every other operating problem are found there. I have to keep that room safely protected and stop bringing any Tom, Dick and Harry to come in there and impart their wisdom. I need to be mindful always of other infected people. Don't you know if you invite a sick person to come in and hang out for any extended period of time, you're probably gonna get sick too?! Duh, this is not rocket science! As I change and grow, I have to keep my protection updated. What protected me yesterday may not be sufficient today as I have grown into new areas. I am careful where I go, who I listen to, what I watch, see, or read. I take in all things through a protective lens. Yes, it is hard work, but it is self-love, and more than worth it.

So, as I am re-building my electronic life on a computer that has been entirely swept clean and re-set, I am reminded that re-setting a life is painful. There is protection against the sexually transmitted diseases that infect the human spirit, and these diseases can take a life just as assuredly as HIV or untreated syphilis. Having an infected body or computer is devastating, having an infected sexuality is devastation.

Photo above found at: http://lordike3.deviantart.com/art/You-Suck-Notice-99394886

The Red Poppy

The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.

by Louise Gluck
Photo above found at:
http://isnt-pretty.deviantart.com/art/Poppy-89769288

Holiness

The Jewish call it
kedusha
holiness
I weep for it
the tears of it within me
the tears of it outside me
my spirit self thousands
of miles away
nested at the weeping wall

In Gaza
one proud spa owner
oils the leather seats where
the wealthy still come
to forget
find oasis
feel the touch of another human
kneading sorrow from
the muscles
the Jewish call it
kedusha

Who destroyed the sacred
grave site of Joseph?
Who bombed homes while
Palestinian girls slept
peacefully within?
Where can we go
to find the last knot of
the rope
to hold fast
the end of this rope
Maybe in these tears
we travel
back back back
all the way to kedusha

By Melissa Greene
Photo above found at:
http://ademmm.deviantart.com/art/Gazans-Hope-112667734

Kathy, 1966

When my mother was nine she baked the cornbread
every day after school. Her face then
the same as today, blue eyes soft with knowing
mouth quiet and still, resigning to
signed contracts.
Her mother is dying.
She has a bad haircut, maybe did it herself,
the bangs stiff as straw on her forehead,
shoes scuffed, scrawny knees that hold
life weight like a body builder. She can cook
green beans, creamed corn, and pinto beans with
the best of them. Little Kathy can fry
potatoes, feed grown men
a father and brother bent to the plow.
She will feed grown men for many years
bent above their own devices of
turning the ground for sorrow. Kathy
found quiet at Mamaw’s, even though
there was no plumbing. She liked to rest
against the splintery fence watching Mamaw milk
the cow, carry the large sloshing pail into the kitchen
set it on the table and get out two
tin cups, Kathy, you want some milk?
There’s the rows of pink hollyhock where
little girls can run without being seen.
Tall stalks of corn
tobacco for miles.
There’s the honeysuckle,
the smokehouse, the outhouse.
Always at Mamaw’s
there’s the cool creek water where
she took off her white church socks,
tip-toed in the shade of the elms
quietly over smooth river rocks.
Here for hours
she is nine years old.

By Melissa Greene
photo above found at:
http://rileyrican.deviantart.com/art/Last-Go-At-It-49641480

Poem for Aretha

Cause nobody deals with Aretha—a mother with four children—
having to hit the road
they always say "after she comes
home" but nobody ever says what it's like
to get on a plane for a three week tour
the elation of the first couple of audiences the good
feeling of exchange the running on the high
you get from singing good
and loud and long telling the world
what's on your mind.

Then comes the eighth show on the sixth day the beginning
to smell like the plane or bus the if-you-forget-your-toothbrush
in-one-spot-you-can't-brush-until-the-second-show
the strangers
pulling at you cause they love you but you having no love
to give back
the singing the same songs night after night day after day
and if you read the gossip columns the rumors that your husband
is only after your fame
the wondering if your children will be glad to see you and maybe
the not caring if they are scheming to get
out of just one show and go just one place where some doe-doe-dupaduke
won't say "just sing one song, please!".

Nobody mentions how it feels to become a freak
because you have talent and how
no one gives a damn how you feel
but only cares that Aretha Franklin is here like maybe that'll stop
chickens from frying
eggs from being laid
crackers from hating

and if you say you're lonely or tired how they always
just say "oh come off it" or "did you see
how they loved you did you see, huh, did you?"
which most likely has nothing to do with you anyway
and I'm not saying Aretha shouldn't have talent and I'm certainly
not saying she should quit
singing but as much as I love her I'd vote "yes" to her
doing four concerts a year and staying home or doing whatever
she wants and making records cause it's a shame
the way we're killing her.
We eat up artists like there's going to be a famine at the end
of those three minutes when there are in fact an abundance
of talents just waiting let's put some
of the giants away for a while and deal with them like they have
a life to lead.

Aretha doesn't have to relive Billi Holiday's life doesn't have
to relive Dinah Washington's death but who will
stop the pattern?

She's more important than her music—if they must be separated—
and they should be separated when she has to pass out before
anyone recognizes she needs
a rest and I say I need
Aretha's music
she is undoubtedly the one who put everyone on
notice.
She revived Johnny Ace and remembered Lil Green. Aretha
sings
"I say a little prayer" and Dionne doesn't
want to hear it anymore
Aretha sings "money won't change you"
but James can't sing "respect" the advent
of Aretha pulled Ray Charles from marlboro country
and back into
the blues made Nancy Wilson
try one more time forced
Dionne to make a choice (she opted for the movies)
and Diana Ross had to get an afro wig pushed every
Black singer into his Blackness and negro entertainers
into negroness you couldn't jive
when she said "you make me feel" the Blazers
had to reply "gotta let a man be/a man"
Aretha said "when my soul was in the lost and found/you came
along to claim it" and Joplin said "maybe"
there has been no musician whom her very presence hasn't
affected when Humphrey wanted her to campaign for him she said
"woeman's only hueman"
and he pressured James Brown
they removed Otis cause the combination was too strong the Impressions had to say "lord have mercy/we're moving on up"
the Black songs started coming from the singers on stage and the dancers
in the streets
Aretha was the riot was the leader if she had said "come
let's do it" it would have been done
temptations say why don't we think about it
why don't we think about it
why don't we think about it

—Nikki Giovanni
from Women Working: An Anthology of Stories and Poems (The Feminist Press, Old Westbury, New York)

My apologies to Ms. Giovanni for inadvertent changes made to her original punctuation, spelling, and spacing. Poem above copies from a Spanish translation. :-)
Aretha Franklin sketch above found at:
http://guitarsallly.deviantart.com/art/aretha-22201165

Two Sides of Fantasy

Ok, so you realize that you have been living a fantasy, believing a fantasy. The man, woman, child, parent, boss, friend, whoever, you loved is not the person you fantasized them to be. They are human and fallable like the rest of us, and you are heartbroken that this person will not save you and fill you utterly. This person cannot make you whole and will hurt you, because that is what humans do. Sometimes we hurt each other. This is the painful part of fantasy-- it isn't real!

Here is the wonderful side-- just as no one can fill you, no one can destroy you. We have no power over when and if people will leave our lives, but that is ok, because when they go, they do not take a part of us with them. Perhaps as children we had to believe that we wielded some magical power or seduction that kept people in our lives, because abandonment to a child can mean possible death. The good news is that no one can "abandon" an adult. You can simply come and go from my life, but I am no longer abandoned, because I care for myself. If you leave, I will not die. It is painful to realize that the person I invested so much in is incapable of fulfilling me, yet it is freeing to know that when you don't fulfill me, I survive anyway. I don't need you to fill me! My survival is not dependent upon whether or not you love me! This is the wonderful part of fantasy-- it isn't real.

Photo above found at: http://louvre89.deviantart.com/art/Like-A-Dream-89189225