Wednesday, July 5, 2023
Wednesday, June 7, 2023
Stephen Hawking on Depression
It’s estimated that more than 350 million people around the world suffer from depression.
Depression sufferers experience a variety of symptoms but one seems common — a feeling that they’re unable to escape their diagnosis. When asked, some people describe the feeling, likening the experience to being in a black hole.
In a world of so much light, these patients feel as though they are swimming in a never-ending realm of darkness. There’s no escape.
While speaking to a crowd of 400 scientists at a recent lecture, renowned scientist and esteemed professor Stephen Hawking discussed the technical nature of black holes. But it was how he connected them to experiencing depression that truly moved the audience Hawking was first diagnosed with motor neuron disease in 1963. At the time of his diagnosis, doctors gave him just two years to live. Now, more than 53 years lHawking celebrated his 74th birthday and shows no signs of slowing down.
Many people have tried to describe the deep and intense feelings of depression throughout the years, usually through creative outlets like poetry, music, art and, film.
It was none other than Stephen Hawking who made this powerful speech to the Royal Institute in London, England, as he compared the mental illness to black holes:
“The message of this lecture is that black holes ain’t as black as they are painted. They are not the eternal prisons they were once thought. Things can get out of a black hole both on the outside and possibly to another universe. So if you feel you are in a black hole, don’t give up; there’s a way out.”
“The message of this lecture is that black holes ain’t as black as they are painted. They are not the eternal prisons they were once thought. Things can get out of a black hole both on the outside and possibly to another universe. So if you feel you are in a black hole, don’t give up; there’s a way out.”
With a little bit more research on black holes, this analogy is very accurate and, potentially, helpful to anyone currently suffering from mental illness.Nasa’s website further describes and explains the science surrounding Black Holes.
“A black hole is a place in space where gravity pulls so much that even light can not get out. Because no light can get out, people can’t see black holes. They are invisible.”
With stigma still surrounding mental health issues, people often feel invisible in their struggle. Hawking’s, however, described how that no matter how invisible or trapped you feel, there is always a way out of the darkness.
On Disability And Mental Health
Also part of the 2016 Reith Lectures program, Hawking was asked a series of questions, one of which directly asked him about his personal struggle with Motor Neurone Disease.
A 17-year-old asked him, “What inspired you to keep on going despite all the rough times in your life?”.
“I think my work and a sense of humor have kept me going. When I turned 21 my expectations were reduced to zero. You probably know this already because there’s been a movie about it. In this situation, it was important that I came to appreciate what I did have. Although I was unfortunate to get motor neurone disease, I have been very fortunate in almost everything else. I have been lucky to work in theoretical physics at a fascinating time, and it’s one of the few areas in which my disability was not a serious handicap. It’s also important not to become angry, no matter how difficult life may seem, because you can lose all hope if you can’t laugh at yourself and life in general.”
“I think my work and a sense of humor have kept me going. When I turned 21 my expectations were reduced to zero. You probably know this already because there’s been a movie about it. In this situation, it was important that I came to appreciate what I did have. Although I was unfortunate to get motor neurone disease, I have been very fortunate in almost everything else. I have been lucky to work in theoretical physics at a fascinating time, and it’s one of the few areas in which my disability was not a serious handicap. It’s also important not to become angry, no matter how difficult life may seem, because you can lose all hope if you can’t laugh at yourself and life in general.”
You do not have to be good
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, & I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun & the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies & the deep trees,
the mountains & the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh & exciting–
over & over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Mary Oliver
Prisoner
Madonna on the bus out of Ukraine
There are those who are innocently incarcerated in prison for years & years. They study the law & methodically, day by day, work to prove their innocence. One step forward, two steps back. They sue the system for monetary restitution, but even without it, bravely find a way to move forward successfully on the outside.
There are those who are innocently incarcerated in a physiological prison for years & years. They study the mind & body & methodically, day by day, work to reclaim their innocence. One step forward, two steps back. They may seek restitution, but even without it, they bravely find a way to move forward successfully from the inside out.
Thursday, November 4, 2021
Suicide Dont’s
I opened our local Leader newspaper online today & read that a body had been found hanging from a tree by our hospital. This happens quite a bit it seems, especially around Halloween. Mistaken for a scary ornamental piece, until it’s not. So many stories…. During Ponzi scheme Madoff times, his son Mark hung himself from the rafters while his baby took a nap. Robin Williams hung himself from the doorknob of his bathroom, etc, etc, etc.
Suicide DON'TS:
By plane, by one's own hand, by cop. Sometimes holding on is not an option for whatever reason. Illness of mind or body. I GET depression. Swimming in MUD. Wanting the agony to just STOP. Been There.
NO ONE WHO LOVES YOU WILL EVER GET OVER:
* Not leaving a note
* Doing it in such a way that loved ones find you
*Taking others with you. Flying a plane into a building, taking your wife
girlfriend, boyfriend, husband or God Forbid, your kids with you.
*Shooting up a school of other peoples kids, or work places, or clubs, or..
* THIS IS ALL ABOUT YOU & no one else, so keep it that way.
MANY times as a teenager & older, I contemplated my own demise. It was always as a way to STOP the, (perceived), agony of being alive, or during premenstrual hell, hanging off the toilet while I puked, cramped & bled until I was anemic. Somehow I managed to hang on, knowing it would end in exactly 168 hours. 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 ... in just 1 more day, then 24, 23, 22 hours.... I thank God now that I hung on. Frankly, it still happens, BUT, from somewhere deep inside… ‘Did I forget my meds? Hang on for 5 more minutes. Ok another 5 minutes. Call your therapist….
For some, the agony will not end. It may be because of a terminal illness or an untreated mental illness. Somewhere in that internal muck however, there IS the absolute knowledge that this is NOT someone else's wish or fault & if you believe it IS, THAT person or THOSE people should get to decide whether or not they are going down YOUR path of their own emotional destruction.
It's the ultimate personal choice, even though in the moment it doesn’t FEEL like a choice. Making that choice for someone else is MURDER & far more destructive for those left behind, even more than the taking of YOUR own life.
When I was in high school, there was a sexy, angst ridden, self destructive teen boy who was over 18, drove an orange GTO & dated young impressionable girls. A 16 year old classmate fell in love with him & just like Jack & Diane, they made a lovelorn suicide pact. Unfortunately things didn't go as planned. When he rammed his GTO into a school wall at 60 miles per hour, he died. She, however, came away paralyzed from the waist down.
On a personal note, my grandfather, who was clinically depressed prior to most knowing what clinical depression was, committed suicide @ 50 while my mother was away serving in the RAF. My grandmother found him when she went to prepare his breakfast. There was no note, leaving them to speculate with their own story. They never got over it, which consequently affected generations of my family. The good news was that it led to a greater understanding of our familial genetic predisposition to mood disorders, including my own. The bad news was when he didn't leave a note, he literally took his own agony, along with those who loved him, to his own grave.
Suicide is illegal on most states, except when a Dr. sanctioned subscriber assists a patient to die. Or, your family is part of your personal decision & finds their own way to assist you. Insurance policies often have a caviot that if the policy holder commits suicide, the beneficiaries cannot collect for a non-accident or non-medical reason. Not only will your family mourn your death, they may well become destitute as well.
Your suicide will ultimately be horrendous & heartbreaking for everyone. The difficult thing to do is to pick up the phone & call the crisis line, where experienced intervention specialists have heard it ALL before & will spend as much time as you need talking over your decision & other options with you. What’s another half an hour in the larger scheme of things? Call 999
Finally, this IS a pre-decision guilt trip, which may or may not affect your decision, but PLEASE, if you have any compassion at all for your loved ones, refer back to the ‘Suicide Don’ts’ as above all else, this is ultimately YOUR decision. Write a note. Say Goodbye. Tell us you love us. And for God’s Sake, call 911 & tell them where to find you before anyone else does.
Thursday, January 16, 2020
Modern Love
Modern Love
Take Me As I Am, Whoever I Am With Rebecca Hall
Modern Love
Rebecca Hall who stars in the upcoming movie "The Night House," reads a story about dating -- while manic.
In her 2008 essay, “Take Me as I Am, Whoever I Am,” Terri Cheney writes about her lifelong battle with bipolar disorder, a debilitating mental illness which she had struggled to keep secret from her lovers and co-workers.
Ms. Cheney’s witty and moving essay inspired one of the episodes in the Modern Love Amazon Prime Video series.
Modern Love
In her 2008 essay, “Take Me as I Am, Whoever I Am,” Terri Cheney writes about her lifelong battle with bipolar disorder, a debilitating mental illness which she had struggled to keep secret from her lovers and co-workers.
Ms. Cheney’s witty and moving essay inspired one of the episodes in the Modern Love Amazon Prime Video series.
Modern Love
is brought to you by COUPLES THERAPY, a new Showtime docu-series following four couples during their weekly sessions with a world-class therapist.
It’s a raw and intimate peek into the hidden world of other people’s relationships.
Saturday, December 15, 2018
Serious About Your Art?
There is an interesting juxtaposition between this 63M Cezanne & the Ukrainian police guarding it with assault weapons. It had been stolen & recovered from the ceiling lining of a car, while Cezanne was belittled, ostracized & belittled in his lifetime.
Message: Keep doing your art & remember that the ultimate support comes through YOU.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Long Term Effects of Psychotropic Drugs
“Although one in five Americans now takes at least one psychotropic drug, the fact remains that nearly seventy years after doctors first began prescribing them, not even their creators understand exactly how or why these drugs work—or don't work—on what ails our brains. Blue Dreams offers the explosive story of the discovery and development of psychiatric medications, as well as the science and the people behind their invention, told by a riveting writer and psychologist who shares her own experience with the highs and lows of psychiatric drugs.
Lauren Slater's revelatory account charts psychiatry's journey from its earliest drugs, Thorazine and lithium, up through Prozac and other major antidepressants of the present. Blue Dreams also chronicles experimental treatments involving Ecstasy, magic mushrooms, the most cutting-edge memory drugs, placebos, and even neural implants. In her thorough analysis of each treatment, Slater asks three fundamental questions: how was the drug born, how does it work (or fail to work), and what does it reveal about the ailments it is meant to treat?
Fearlessly weaving her own intimate experiences into comprehensive and wide-ranging research, Slater narrates a personal history of psychiatry itself. In the process, her powerful and groundbreaking exploration casts modern psychiatry's ubiquitous wonder drugs in a new light, revealing their ability to heal us or hurt us, and proving an indispensable resource not only for those with a psychotropic prescription but for anyone who hopes to understand the limits of what we know about the human brain and the possibilities for future treatments.”
Saturday, June 24, 2017
Joseph Brodsky, Jewish Poet
“There are worse crimes than burning books. One of them is not reading them.”
Joseph Brodsky Jewish Poet
'A Russian newspaper declared that his poetry was “pornographic and anti-Soviet.” The authorities were worried because he was becoming so popular and his readings were attracting large, enthusiastic crowds. He was interrogated, he was put in a mental institution, and then he was arrested. His trial was in secret, but the transcript was smuggled out, and his defense of the right to be a poet made him a hero, especially in the United States and Europe. He was sentenced to five years in a labor camp in Siberia, but there was so much protest that his sentence was commuted after a year and a half. For the next few years he continued to write, but he was harassed and finally expelled from the Soviet Union in 1972. Brodsky was awarded the 1987 Nobel Prize in Literature "for an all-embracing authorship, imbued with clarity of thought and poetic intensity".He was appointed United States Poet Laureate in 1991.
I was only that which
you touched with your palm
over which, in the deaf, raven-black
night, you bent your head...
I was practically blind.
You, appearing, then hiding,
taught me to see.[ 8 ]
Hello Humans: How I managed not to kill myself yesterday
http://www.hellohumans.co/blog/how-i-managed-not-to-kill-myself-yesterday
Sam Lamott; January 2017
Hello Humans,
Congratulations: you’ve survived the holidays. For some of us saying that takes on a whole new meaning. It is not a cute phrase but a literal statement that we have, in fact, survived. The holiday season can be an onslaught of commercialism and happiness (genuine or not), and although there is nothing wrong with the celebrating, it can be a painful reminder of the things we don't feel, objects we can’t afford, and missing pieces we don't have. It is an exercise in endurance and grit, a magnifier of all life’s shit and discomfort. In a previous blog post I named this group of people who experience these issues as “the tribe of still alive”, and if you consider yourself a member of still alive, then this love letter is for you, and I’m glad you found it.
It has become abundantly clear to me that my mind wants me dead. In the absence of a nice slow death from drug and alcohol abuse, this has turned into something less nuanced. I’ve found merely existing exhausting at times. I have so many things to live for and be grateful for, but they conveniently escape me when I'm going through a bad stretch. I take the right action— see a therapist and psychiatrist, go to support groups, and try to take care of myself but still, there is no fool proof protection from the faulty wiring.
A few days ago I found myself on the phone with the suicide prevention lifeline, a phone number you’re either familiar with, or should become familiar with as a tribe member. This turn of events is still embarrassing to admit, as these thoughts are confusing and don't match up with the wonderful life I actually have in front of me. I felt guilty and ashamed, and I didn't have the strength to call anybody in my regular support network of friends and loved ones. My mind was fearful I would be a burden on them. It’s this shame and guilt that makes this such a deadly issue. Our minds tell us to hide, to pretend it isn't there, and not to “bother” the people we would effect if we were no longer living (and who would do anything to help us.)
I didn't call the phone number with a razor to my wrist, or at the edge of the bridge. I hadn't actually planned out how one should go about not existing, and to be honest, there is no option that seems very attractive at this time. My point is, you don’t have to be in imminent physical danger for these thoughts to be life-threatening and dangerous, and you can reach out with nothing more than the desire to not feel the way you are currently feeling.
Our tribe has lost some amazing members this season, and it welcomes a new batch who may be finding themselves with something new, confusing, or terrifying they may not be familiar with. I want to go on the record and say that I, Sam Lamott, am a proud member of still alive, I find existing exhausting at times, and I want to renew my membership. If you are also a member, then I am your brother, we are family, and you are not alone.
Sam Lamott; January 2017
Congratulations: you’ve survived the holidays. For some of us saying that takes on a whole new meaning. It is not a cute phrase but a literal statement that we have, in fact, survived. The holiday season can be an onslaught of commercialism and happiness (genuine or not), and although there is nothing wrong with the celebrating, it can be a painful reminder of the things we don't feel, objects we can’t afford, and missing pieces we don't have. It is an exercise in endurance and grit, a magnifier of all life’s shit and discomfort. In a previous blog post I named this group of people who experience these issues as “the tribe of still alive”, and if you consider yourself a member of still alive, then this love letter is for you, and I’m glad you found it.
It has become abundantly clear to me that my mind wants me dead. In the absence of a nice slow death from drug and alcohol abuse, this has turned into something less nuanced. I’ve found merely existing exhausting at times. I have so many things to live for and be grateful for, but they conveniently escape me when I'm going through a bad stretch. I take the right action— see a therapist and psychiatrist, go to support groups, and try to take care of myself but still, there is no fool proof protection from the faulty wiring.
A few days ago I found myself on the phone with the suicide prevention lifeline, a phone number you’re either familiar with, or should become familiar with as a tribe member. This turn of events is still embarrassing to admit, as these thoughts are confusing and don't match up with the wonderful life I actually have in front of me. I felt guilty and ashamed, and I didn't have the strength to call anybody in my regular support network of friends and loved ones. My mind was fearful I would be a burden on them. It’s this shame and guilt that makes this such a deadly issue. Our minds tell us to hide, to pretend it isn't there, and not to “bother” the people we would effect if we were no longer living (and who would do anything to help us.)
I didn't call the phone number with a razor to my wrist, or at the edge of the bridge. I hadn't actually planned out how one should go about not existing, and to be honest, there is no option that seems very attractive at this time. My point is, you don’t have to be in imminent physical danger for these thoughts to be life-threatening and dangerous, and you can reach out with nothing more than the desire to not feel the way you are currently feeling.
Our tribe has lost some amazing members this season, and it welcomes a new batch who may be finding themselves with something new, confusing, or terrifying they may not be familiar with. I want to go on the record and say that I, Sam Lamott, am a proud member of still alive, I find existing exhausting at times, and I want to renew my membership. If you are also a member, then I am your brother, we are family, and you are not alone.
If you're struggling with suicidal thoughts please call the suicide prevention lifeline available 24 hours a day, every day at 1-800-273-8255 or visit https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
Friday, May 26, 2017
Go To The Beach
" That incredible feeling of peace and calmness that you experience at the beach is now being referred to as 'blue space.' That’s what scientists have dubbed the effect that the combination of soothing smells & sounds of water have on your brain. The blue space is enough to make you feel at ease in a hypnotic sort of way. When you notice how relaxed you feel at the beach, it’s not just all in your head. Science says that it’s a change in the way your brain reacts to its environment leaving you feeling happy, relaxed and re-energized.
Overall, this BLUE SPACE effects you in four different ways:
1. Going to the beach reduces stress.
Water is nature’s cure to life’s stressors. It’s full of naturally occurring positive ions that are known for having the ability to make you feel at ease. So whether you jump in for a swim or simply dip your toes in the water, you’re sure to experience a feeling of relaxation. That’s one instant mood booster we could all use from time to time!
2. The beach boosts your creativity.
Feeling like you’re in a creative rut? Well, scientists
now believe that the solution to this is the beach. Being in blue space
allows you to clear your head and approach problems or projects in a
more creative way. Much like meditation, the beach triggers a feeling of
calmness that allows you to tune everything else out & reflect on
what it is you’ve been needing to focus on.
3. Going to the beach can help reduce feelings of depression.
Much like the effects that the beach has on feelings of stress and creative ruts, the beach also provides some relief to feelings of depression. The hypnotic sound of the waves in combination with the sight & smells of the beach can put you into a meditative space. In turn, you can clear your mind & reflect on life in a safe space away from the chaos of your daily life.
4. Overall, spending time at the beach will change your perspective on life.
And that perspective is going to change for the better!
Nature in general has always been a factor in healthy happy lives, but
the beach in particular is good for the soul."
Written by Alexandrea Becker
April 21st, 2017
Saturday, March 25, 2017
Saturday, January 28, 2017
That Final Flight!
It's interesting to me how the soft underbelly of those we love comes forth most profoundly in their birth & then in their passing.
Another chapter in a whole lifetime seemed crammed in to that last month my dad & I had together. At home he rustled the pages of his last presentation paper for his 'Wranglers' group about the brain, while asking me if flowers had a memory because they repeated the life cycle. I told him, no, that was simply genetic coding & so we went round & round as usual & then I went home & actually tried to find out on the internet if flowers DO have tiny brains.
I stood by my father's hospital bed after our last real meal together of salmon, baked potato & fruit crisp, which he had gobbled down with gusto. On my way out, he motioned for me to lean down closer & closer until he could peck me on the cheek with that sly smile & then I kissed him on his head & he thanked me, as he had thanked Moe, the big guy who had turned him & the nurses who shifted his pillows or brought him ice. Chivalry until the end.
A week later, for all intents & purposes, my dad mostly laid in twilight between two worlds. I was wishing he didn't have to experience the shutting down of time & space & organs & thought somehow a head on collision would be more humane. I was dreading the drive over again to witness his disappearance, although at the same time I wished I was there holding his hand so he was not braving this journey alone.
I took solace that his soul was slowly arching away from the constraints of an earthly plane. How strange though it seemed that one so wearily encased could rally for that final flight!
Those days are so precious to me; perhaps more so then all the years we had leading up to them. The aching wait, the man child, the long rest into the sweet sleep of peace.
I believe you are truly in your element now. God Speed, Daddy Dear xo
Friday, January 27, 2017
From What I Want To What Is
Yep, this is a real photo. This is me with a rope around my waist & my sister standing ominously off to the side, looking like she's ready to hurl a huge snowball at me. It's disturbing, but not quite what it seems. In New Jersey, where this was taken, the snow drifts were often over my head; thus to avoid losing me, I was put on a rope long enough to play in the shoveled part, but not to do a face plant in a snowbank.
I was listening to a woman yesterday who was talking about her addiction to pain killers as if she was sitting in front of a window watching big snowflakes beautifully swirling down, but totally blocking out the real view outside. I feel like in terms of family dynamics, I've been a slow study, but the snowflakes are at least starting to slow down & changing to rain. It may always look somewhat skewed out there, because hey, who doesn't want to idealize the family that never was; 'The Brady Bunch' into something more palatable?
One thing that is happening for me is the walking towards the fork in the road where my sisters are on one path, which is the path they need to be on & me on my path, the one I need to be on. Since my dad died & as my mother continues to fade into her distant memories, I've been on the strained side with my sisters. I have a brother, but that relationship stays the same as it always was, due to an eight year age difference.
Yes, I know; there already IS an unusual silence & there will continue to be; but it is AMAZING the lift off of MY shoulders from the letting go I have accomplished, which for now, is about the best Birthday present I can give myself.
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
WELCOME TO THE PRESIDENT
Many folks suffer with PTSD from traumatic experiences in their past that evolve from not feeling safe &/or abandoned: authoritarian abuse, war, rape, neglect, a bad relationship or car accident. One learns the coping mechanisms & healing needed to go on to live 'normal' lives, while also recognizing the triggers that may again bring them to their knees. We learn to recognize & avoid situations or people who are crazy makers & return to touchstones that provide equilibrium & bring strength anew. A trigger may come when someone in our lives, (whether we want them them there or not), is in an ultimate position of power.
Which brings us directly to Donald Trump.
Adjectives being used to raise the internal & group alarm are: scared, sad, angry, helpless, frustrated, ect. ect. & the symptoms include, anxiety, depression, panic, disorientation, & a myriad of 'go to' coping mechanisms when feeling threatened. Over two million folks gathered together around the world to peacefully express their feelings of discontent & are empowered. The individual becomes part of the tribe that refuses to be intimidated. And yet, predictably, the person who remains in a position of power ignores the obvious & can't see "what the big deal is ", & relies on the bubble of 'alternative facts." Today, I read he wants a recount for 'voter fraud' because although he won the electoral college, he believes he also won the popular vote. Nothing less makes 'sense' to him in his own version of reality. None of it makes sense to us.
These are the decisions I have make for myself, born out of past experience with crazy makers & my current need for self preservation:
1) Hypervigilance is not my friend when it comes from a place of fear. Checking the news frequently to see what craziness has happened in the last five minutes does not prevent it from happening. What DOES happen are physiological panic symptoms that alert ME I am not in control of what Trump does or doesn't do. Somehow believing that if I stay alert, I can personally control the national outcome sounds silly even as I write it.
Posting the craziness & spending too much time on social media as part of the hypervigilant cycle is a life draining combination at best. It's just another way we try making sense of the nonsense & it becomes overwhelming for everyone. Sometimes there is nothing to be done besides backing away from the phone, i-pad, laptop or whatever else that is keeping us from ourselves. Take a walk. Breathe normal breathes. Read a book. Do art. It feels good to know we can survive & thrive in the silence.
Jennifer James once said, 'If you need to read it, grieve it, or feel it, set the timer. Don't allow yourself to do anything else for that time period; sort of like a concentrated meditation. When the timer rings, go do your life.'
"People with narcissistic personality disorder are characterized by persistent grandiosity, excessive need for admiration, & a disdain & lack of empathy for others. These individuals often display arrogance, a sense of superiority, & power seeking behaviors. People with NPD typically value themselves over others to the extent that they disregard the feelings and wishes of others & expect to be treated better than others. In addition, people amp; with NPD may exhibit fragile egos, an inability to tolerate criticism, and a tendency to belittle others in an attempt to validate their own superiority." DSM-5
Sound familiar? Speak your mind, join in the protests, write letters, push for what you want as an individual or group, but know that a crazy maker & narcissist is in the White House & there is not a damn thing you can do to CHANGE HIM. Whoever put him there will have to take him out & we have no idea when or if that will happen. Set the alarm. Then go do YOUR life.
Friday, December 16, 2016
AHA
When I was around 4, I did not experience the ability to make choices in many areas of my young life, but I do remember experiencing the power & freedom of moving my body. As I grew, a regimented Ballet teacher scared the young crap out of me, but on bikes without training wheels, in gymnastics, ice skating & free form dance, I felt empowered. Those fast & freeing laps around the ice rink, pushing forward, up & out with strong legs & arms, propelled me towards my own choices & ways of being in my body.
When I was 15, I walked into a special education classroom to work as a teacher’s aide & my teenage angst was taken down a few notches. A group of children in various stages of disarray were seated at desks filling out worksheets; some rapidly churning out numbers, while others stared into space. I sat down next to a small boy with a blond bowl cut named Anders & attempted to assist. I noticed he worked for a few moments, then looked up & his eyes clouded over. I gently touched his arm & he shook his head, then looked down at the paper again. Pencil lead smeared across the math page, yet all the answers were correct.
Teacher Sheila glided around the room, speaking softly, encouraging, picking up dropped supplies & adjusting feeding tubes. I asked about Anders & she explained he was experiencing rapidly firing petit mal seizures, until brain exhaustion took over & he fell into a deep sleep, head in arms on the desktop, then woke about 10 minutes later for the next round.
When I was 26 & working as a teacher with Head Start, my back gave way in a grocery store over a too heavy hand basket. Traditional doctors suggested traction & back surgery, while gentle manipulations, massage & Chinese tinctures were offered instead by a Naturopath. From there, I found a natural progression into Therapeutic Movement, where one learns to lean into & learn from psychosomatic issues, instead of turning away from them.
When I was 30, I returned to college after many years of work with special needs & high risk kids & went in to Somatic Psychology studies; BA & MA degrees, doing movement & teaching college courses in psychology. It was a deeply satisfying & well loved rhythm & flow.
When I was 41, I gave birth to Gabriel. He was endearing & happy, with oversized glasses, yet as time moved on, there was the gradual discovery of mental retardation, seizures & mental health issues including, Bipolar Disorder, OCD & Tourette’s. What were the chances, I thought, while why would it not be so, at the same time? The tables were turned on his mama & there have been the highs & lows between true joy & heartbreak. I love that boy completely.
When I was 50, I fell into a dark clinical depression.The college teaching career I loved was lost in a devastating way. Jabs at returning to once familiar work failed, which left me confused, depressed & languishing, without much interest or connection to anything except Gabriel. I stopped moving, except as if through mud, gained weight & set about the intellectual study of religion & other diversions, which only moved me further away from myself. Both of my parents & some close friends died during this time & I was a lost orphan, floundering around without reserves & ending up in the hospital with a dangerous infection & a breast cancer scare. I decided to return to my much loved New Mexico for some reprieve, yet mostly found myself driving around aimlessly & sitting at the ancient altar of the El Santuario de Chimayo Church, sobbing until spent. A bright spot was attending a conference at Ghost Ranch on ‘The Creative Brain’ & attending an indigenous Deer Dance at a closed pueblo.
When I was 57, I went back to the beginning. I circled back into a new Movement post graduate training program with my previous mentor. I also started subbing in special ed. classrooms again for extra income. Although still moving at a snails pace, things started making some sense again. Along with returning to Authentic Movement, I am currently practicing Feldenkrais in private & public sessions & meeting with a body centered therapist. (Ironically, I now have the means to afford these things with an inheritance from my parents.)
A few weeks ago, I dragged myself into yet another classroom where I was put in charge of “babysitting”, (yes, someone actually said that to me), a 9 year old boy who I had seen around at Gabe’s summer camp & in school. He uses screams & moans to communicate; his head & body folded over to one side with twisted arms that reach back under his chin. I’m sure as I approached he could sense I was not thrilled & he certainly was not either. (I was replacing his regular aide while she was out sick.) Colorful sensory toys were spread out on a table in front of him, plus an iPad, that when touched, displayed undulating colors & shapes on the screen.
I sat down, said, ‘Hello’, & he proceeded to twist his body completely away from me so I could not see his face & screamed at the top of his lungs. With years of practice in this field & with Gabe, I kept sitting there, acting uninterested in his behavior & playing with the toys to divert his attention. It soon became evident that he could outlast me & 4 miserable hours of care loomed in front of me.
Suddenly, I remembered Mary Whitehouse, & Joan Chodorow, (founder & student of Authentic Movement), talking about 'meeting clients where they are’ as a witness; reflecting back their soundings & movement as acknowledgement of who they are in the moment. I began doing my own turning away with my limbs locked, but in a softer voice, followed along with his 'AH AH AH' screams. Soon his voice softened to meet my volume & I could hear his body gradually turning in his chair & shifting towards me. I also slowly turned back towards him as he looked up & we locked eyes. Leaning in further still, he awkwardly turned & laid his head on my shoulder. Through instant tears, I started poking at the I-Pad screen with my finger & bright bursts of color followed. He soon tentatively unfolded one arm, reached out & did the same. Over 40 years of special education & movement collided & all that previously felt like a long paralleled mass of experience finally merged together. AHA.
Our time together flew by as we did laps on the outdoor track with his tricycle, his feet strapped on to peddles as they turned & him screaming, this time with delight. At the end of the school day, we waited out in front of the school to catch the bus. When it arrived, he broke free from my total grip on his wobbling body & walked, still bent forward, but under his own power to the steps, climbed up & sat down in his seat. I strapped him in, we smiled at each other & away he went.
I recently watched the Sundance documentary, ‘ALIVE INSIDE’, which chronicles the experiences of seniors & the disabled who have turned completely inward with the combination of institutionalization & medication, & then literally ‘come alive’ through the simple experience of listening to familiar music on headphones. http://www.aliveinside.us/#about
It reminded me of another boy in a special ed. classroom who, in his free time, goes directly to You Tube & Adele videos; rocking back & forth in his chair, smiling & singing a few words here & there, loud & strong. Piecing together my own meaningful movement & special needs experiences is opening up ways of integrating my past, present & future in ways that are only beginning. I too am feeling ALIVE again, inside & out.
When I was 15, I walked into a special education classroom to work as a teacher’s aide & my teenage angst was taken down a few notches. A group of children in various stages of disarray were seated at desks filling out worksheets; some rapidly churning out numbers, while others stared into space. I sat down next to a small boy with a blond bowl cut named Anders & attempted to assist. I noticed he worked for a few moments, then looked up & his eyes clouded over. I gently touched his arm & he shook his head, then looked down at the paper again. Pencil lead smeared across the math page, yet all the answers were correct.
Teacher Sheila glided around the room, speaking softly, encouraging, picking up dropped supplies & adjusting feeding tubes. I asked about Anders & she explained he was experiencing rapidly firing petit mal seizures, until brain exhaustion took over & he fell into a deep sleep, head in arms on the desktop, then woke about 10 minutes later for the next round.
When I was 26 & working as a teacher with Head Start, my back gave way in a grocery store over a too heavy hand basket. Traditional doctors suggested traction & back surgery, while gentle manipulations, massage & Chinese tinctures were offered instead by a Naturopath. From there, I found a natural progression into Therapeutic Movement, where one learns to lean into & learn from psychosomatic issues, instead of turning away from them.
When I was 30, I returned to college after many years of work with special needs & high risk kids & went in to Somatic Psychology studies; BA & MA degrees, doing movement & teaching college courses in psychology. It was a deeply satisfying & well loved rhythm & flow.
When I was 41, I gave birth to Gabriel. He was endearing & happy, with oversized glasses, yet as time moved on, there was the gradual discovery of mental retardation, seizures & mental health issues including, Bipolar Disorder, OCD & Tourette’s. What were the chances, I thought, while why would it not be so, at the same time? The tables were turned on his mama & there have been the highs & lows between true joy & heartbreak. I love that boy completely.
When I was 50, I fell into a dark clinical depression.The college teaching career I loved was lost in a devastating way. Jabs at returning to once familiar work failed, which left me confused, depressed & languishing, without much interest or connection to anything except Gabriel. I stopped moving, except as if through mud, gained weight & set about the intellectual study of religion & other diversions, which only moved me further away from myself. Both of my parents & some close friends died during this time & I was a lost orphan, floundering around without reserves & ending up in the hospital with a dangerous infection & a breast cancer scare. I decided to return to my much loved New Mexico for some reprieve, yet mostly found myself driving around aimlessly & sitting at the ancient altar of the El Santuario de Chimayo Church, sobbing until spent. A bright spot was attending a conference at Ghost Ranch on ‘The Creative Brain’ & attending an indigenous Deer Dance at a closed pueblo.
When I was 57, I went back to the beginning. I circled back into a new Movement post graduate training program with my previous mentor. I also started subbing in special ed. classrooms again for extra income. Although still moving at a snails pace, things started making some sense again. Along with returning to Authentic Movement, I am currently practicing Feldenkrais in private & public sessions & meeting with a body centered therapist. (Ironically, I now have the means to afford these things with an inheritance from my parents.)
A few weeks ago, I dragged myself into yet another classroom where I was put in charge of “babysitting”, (yes, someone actually said that to me), a 9 year old boy who I had seen around at Gabe’s summer camp & in school. He uses screams & moans to communicate; his head & body folded over to one side with twisted arms that reach back under his chin. I’m sure as I approached he could sense I was not thrilled & he certainly was not either. (I was replacing his regular aide while she was out sick.) Colorful sensory toys were spread out on a table in front of him, plus an iPad, that when touched, displayed undulating colors & shapes on the screen.
I sat down, said, ‘Hello’, & he proceeded to twist his body completely away from me so I could not see his face & screamed at the top of his lungs. With years of practice in this field & with Gabe, I kept sitting there, acting uninterested in his behavior & playing with the toys to divert his attention. It soon became evident that he could outlast me & 4 miserable hours of care loomed in front of me.
Suddenly, I remembered Mary Whitehouse, & Joan Chodorow, (founder & student of Authentic Movement), talking about 'meeting clients where they are’ as a witness; reflecting back their soundings & movement as acknowledgement of who they are in the moment. I began doing my own turning away with my limbs locked, but in a softer voice, followed along with his 'AH AH AH' screams. Soon his voice softened to meet my volume & I could hear his body gradually turning in his chair & shifting towards me. I also slowly turned back towards him as he looked up & we locked eyes. Leaning in further still, he awkwardly turned & laid his head on my shoulder. Through instant tears, I started poking at the I-Pad screen with my finger & bright bursts of color followed. He soon tentatively unfolded one arm, reached out & did the same. Over 40 years of special education & movement collided & all that previously felt like a long paralleled mass of experience finally merged together. AHA.
Our time together flew by as we did laps on the outdoor track with his tricycle, his feet strapped on to peddles as they turned & him screaming, this time with delight. At the end of the school day, we waited out in front of the school to catch the bus. When it arrived, he broke free from my total grip on his wobbling body & walked, still bent forward, but under his own power to the steps, climbed up & sat down in his seat. I strapped him in, we smiled at each other & away he went.
I recently watched the Sundance documentary, ‘ALIVE INSIDE’, which chronicles the experiences of seniors & the disabled who have turned completely inward with the combination of institutionalization & medication, & then literally ‘come alive’ through the simple experience of listening to familiar music on headphones. http://www.aliveinside.us/#about
It reminded me of another boy in a special ed. classroom who, in his free time, goes directly to You Tube & Adele videos; rocking back & forth in his chair, smiling & singing a few words here & there, loud & strong. Piecing together my own meaningful movement & special needs experiences is opening up ways of integrating my past, present & future in ways that are only beginning. I too am feeling ALIVE again, inside & out.
Sunday, February 21, 2016
To Go Or Not To Go?
Every bone in my body was trying to keep me ‘stuck’ to my bed, in loss, isolation, routine, illness & a growing clinical depression instead of just sadness. I was in a bad way, in many ways, physically, emotionally & spiritually. I even had a trip planned to one of my favorite places in the U.S; New Mexico. I cancelled it & crawled back under the covers. Although I was still apathetic & apprehensive about the trip, a few days later I made myself reschedule. Something had to change before I drowned completely. I literally FORCED myself to get on the plane & for the first few days I still felt anxious, angry & wanted to go home. I sat in a motel I liked in Santa Fe & stared into space. I was literally reaching the end of my emotional rope when I heard a voice in my head;
'Sort out your home. Chop wood, carry water.’
I had been worried sick for quite some time about what the 'next steps' were for me, what to do with the rest of my life, with few prospects ahead that I could see. At 57, I felt completely drained & out of 'control' of my future. After hearing these simple words, I started feeling slightly calmer & the places that I had ‘planned’ to go went out the window. The next morning I got in my car & just drove. The one place I knew was still on my agenda was Chimayo & the little church there. It was built in 1819; small, old, lopsided floors & truly a place I had often gone back to in my head that brought me comfort. I went & sat in a pew towards the front of the sanctuary, leaned over the railing & put my head on my arms. Eventually all of the tourists left & I was by myself. I stayed for about 20 minutes, then got up to go into the little holy dirt room off to the left.
As I reached the end of the pew, I suddenly heard loud breathing coming from the back of the church. I mean LOUD, like it was filling up the entire space. I turned & walked towards it down the aisle & when I reached the doors it faded & was gone. It felt very confusing; I couldn't quite believe what I had heard. A memory then flooded back from the morning my dad died. I was sleeping like a log through many phone calls & was finally woken up at 10:00. I answered the phone; I think my sister told me that dad had passed at 7:30 am. I hung up & went to the bathroom & as I stood there, I heard dad inhaling & exhaling deeply from my son Gabe’s room. (He had serious COPD before dying, could barely catch his breath & talked with a deep rasp.) The breath in both of these instances was completely normal; full, deep & a great comfort to me at that time & now. Neither events felt that extraordinary to me, except that now I finally felt a connection to something spiritually significant I had not felt in a very long time. My mood became much lighter & reflective on the rest of my trip.
I did a lot of driving & thinking through the hills up to Taos & over to Ghost Ranch where I attended a 3 day conference called, 'The Heart of the Brain', instead of taking the private retreat I had originally planned. I enjoyed the connection to other interested & intelligent folks who are also intrigued by the brain/heart connection. It wasn’t a 'New Age' experience, but rather taught by a neuroscientist who studies how the brain revitalizes itself & can bring about positive change when an overabundance of stress is not interfering with the process. The conference leader, Layne, is part Apache & we were all invited to go to a Valentine’s Day Deer Dance at a closed Pueblo. These people invited us into their homes, fed us; & we watched over fifty of them dance. They go up into the mountains for days before, fast & BECOME the deer before coming back down. Layne also mentioned the significance of drumming & rattling & how scientifically it jolts one out of old & into new ways of being; sort of like an electric shock to the brain.
I did not see one petroglyph on this trip! The last time I came I was all about them & early ruins, but this time I went back to Bandelier & some museums I hadn’t been to previously & spent more time in Albuquerque. I also went to a gallery across from Georgia O’Keefe’s old house in Abiqui & found that instead of New Mexican Art, it was filled with Asian imports. A friendly guy showed me around who was quite a famous artist who had turned to a connection with Asian Art importing instead. The one thing I HAD to have was a Thai Akha Tribal Woman’s Head Dress I found there.
Of course now I'm glad I went & ended up doing exactly what I needed to do while there. I feel replenished & have since started working on 'sorting out my home; chopping wood & carrying water’. which to me means doing the physical basics for now, & allowing the rest to take care of itself.
'Sort out your home. Chop wood, carry water.’
I had been worried sick for quite some time about what the 'next steps' were for me, what to do with the rest of my life, with few prospects ahead that I could see. At 57, I felt completely drained & out of 'control' of my future. After hearing these simple words, I started feeling slightly calmer & the places that I had ‘planned’ to go went out the window. The next morning I got in my car & just drove. The one place I knew was still on my agenda was Chimayo & the little church there. It was built in 1819; small, old, lopsided floors & truly a place I had often gone back to in my head that brought me comfort. I went & sat in a pew towards the front of the sanctuary, leaned over the railing & put my head on my arms. Eventually all of the tourists left & I was by myself. I stayed for about 20 minutes, then got up to go into the little holy dirt room off to the left.
As I reached the end of the pew, I suddenly heard loud breathing coming from the back of the church. I mean LOUD, like it was filling up the entire space. I turned & walked towards it down the aisle & when I reached the doors it faded & was gone. It felt very confusing; I couldn't quite believe what I had heard. A memory then flooded back from the morning my dad died. I was sleeping like a log through many phone calls & was finally woken up at 10:00. I answered the phone; I think my sister told me that dad had passed at 7:30 am. I hung up & went to the bathroom & as I stood there, I heard dad inhaling & exhaling deeply from my son Gabe’s room. (He had serious COPD before dying, could barely catch his breath & talked with a deep rasp.) The breath in both of these instances was completely normal; full, deep & a great comfort to me at that time & now. Neither events felt that extraordinary to me, except that now I finally felt a connection to something spiritually significant I had not felt in a very long time. My mood became much lighter & reflective on the rest of my trip.
I did a lot of driving & thinking through the hills up to Taos & over to Ghost Ranch where I attended a 3 day conference called, 'The Heart of the Brain', instead of taking the private retreat I had originally planned. I enjoyed the connection to other interested & intelligent folks who are also intrigued by the brain/heart connection. It wasn’t a 'New Age' experience, but rather taught by a neuroscientist who studies how the brain revitalizes itself & can bring about positive change when an overabundance of stress is not interfering with the process. The conference leader, Layne, is part Apache & we were all invited to go to a Valentine’s Day Deer Dance at a closed Pueblo. These people invited us into their homes, fed us; & we watched over fifty of them dance. They go up into the mountains for days before, fast & BECOME the deer before coming back down. Layne also mentioned the significance of drumming & rattling & how scientifically it jolts one out of old & into new ways of being; sort of like an electric shock to the brain.
I did not see one petroglyph on this trip! The last time I came I was all about them & early ruins, but this time I went back to Bandelier & some museums I hadn’t been to previously & spent more time in Albuquerque. I also went to a gallery across from Georgia O’Keefe’s old house in Abiqui & found that instead of New Mexican Art, it was filled with Asian imports. A friendly guy showed me around who was quite a famous artist who had turned to a connection with Asian Art importing instead. The one thing I HAD to have was a Thai Akha Tribal Woman’s Head Dress I found there.
Of course now I'm glad I went & ended up doing exactly what I needed to do while there. I feel replenished & have since started working on 'sorting out my home; chopping wood & carrying water’. which to me means doing the physical basics for now, & allowing the rest to take care of itself.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Make Me A STAR!
"The reason so many of us are obsessed with becoming stars
is because we are not yet starring in our own lives.
The cosmic spotlight is not pointed at you,
The cosmic spotlight is not pointed at you,
it radiates from within you."
Marianne Williamson
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Mom's Memorial Speech
Mom was a private person in many respects & didn't like to call too much attention to herself. This is not to say that she wasn't fiercely independent, tough as nails & honest to a fault, while also being extremely intuitive, sensitive & loyal. I never doubted for one moment where I stood with her, although at times she really did surprise me with her ability to support who I was & stuck up for me when I was sure she wouldn't.
We moved back to the Island when I was 16, which is a fun age for most parents all around. I'm sure they would have rather left me behind with my first serious boyfriend & I pretty much made their lives miserable from then on. My pay back was skipping school & generally being a pain in the ass. One day I was leaning inside a school door & talking to some one with a lit cigaret in my hand. Just then the Vice Principle walked around the corner & a wide smile crossed his lips. He cheerfully hauled me down to office & called mom. Just as quickly his face visibly fell & it was a very short conversation because all mom said was, "Ok, send her home."
I thought for sure it was going to be bad news for me, but I when I walked in the door, she said, "I wasn't going to give that smug guy the satisfaction, but stick to the smoking area from now on." (This was the 70's by the way & I think she was just grateful I wasn't smoking pot at the time & had been arrested.)
Many of us here today & especially her children, knew as much about moms background as can be expected, yet as it was with my dad, when that twilight place came, the memories went further back & her younger self emerged, while the present faded away.
My grandfather, who sadly I never met, was born in Crief, Scotland & after the first World War,(where he was with The Black Watch, serving in Mesopotamia), traveled down to find work in Newcastle upon Tyne. There he met my grandmother at the Green Grocer, (Co-op), where they both worked & then married in 1925. Mom & 3 other children soon followed, 2 years apart; two boys & two girls & as the depression loomed closer, so did the lack of work. Mom told us that granddad didn't have steady work for nine years & things were as tough as the coal mining town they lived in. Two Aunts took the girls in off & on over several years, while the boys stayed at home. Mom quickly became responsible for getting herself & her younger sister on & off trains & back & forth to visit home. The Aunt my mom stayed with was childless & wealthy, while the other was a bit more from the rugged side of the tracks. Mom loved to tell the story about coming to the home dinner table with her own high tea manners, while her sister sat there, swearing like a sailor.
Mom left school at 14, which was not at all unusual, worked in a shoe store & even saw Vivian Leigh & Lawrence Olivia live at the local Royal Theater. She then left home by 17 to join the RAF as the second war wound down, meeting & soon marrying dad. Derek, then Karen were born & soon came the day when dad began talking about immigration to Canada, where he had done some of his flight training. Neither had lived far from their home villages before, but she packed up the children, got on a boat with 2 large trunks, & landed in Ontario, Canada. (I always envied her fortitude & appreciated that whenever we wanted to travel later on, she was always all for it.) I was the third child & little did she know at the time that a move to New Jersey & then Long Island, where Janice was born, was in her future.
All of these moves occurred before I was six years old, which was stressful on all of us, but when dad wanted to make the move to work for Boeing in Seattle, she put her foot down, firmly telling him she was done moving. I guess it took almost a year for her to agree to come, AFTER dads boss called & said she really should at least come for a visit.
We did eventually move here obviously & except for a few years back east again after the SST failed, we made our home here & her children never lived far away. Mom loved the Island & had many good friends & family close by. She always had a full & busy social calendar.
When I was about 9 or 10, summer came & I was ready to go swimming & be an all around lazy kid, when mom announced we were going to volunteer with Head Start in the Central District of Seattle, which at the time had the highest crime area of the city. We took the bus downtown & were literally the only white folks there. This experience as a young volunteer had a huge influence on me & I believe later led me to my work for many years with Head Start.
It was not always easy to be around mom, while knowing she was doing the best she could with what she had. She truly believed her children's lives were 'a walk in the park' compared to her own childhood & she was probably right. I gained a deep love of learning from her & dad, along with the ability to endure, with strength & tenacity, the road ahead.
We moved back to the Island when I was 16, which is a fun age for most parents all around. I'm sure they would have rather left me behind with my first serious boyfriend & I pretty much made their lives miserable from then on. My pay back was skipping school & generally being a pain in the ass. One day I was leaning inside a school door & talking to some one with a lit cigaret in my hand. Just then the Vice Principle walked around the corner & a wide smile crossed his lips. He cheerfully hauled me down to office & called mom. Just as quickly his face visibly fell & it was a very short conversation because all mom said was, "Ok, send her home."
I thought for sure it was going to be bad news for me, but I when I walked in the door, she said, "I wasn't going to give that smug guy the satisfaction, but stick to the smoking area from now on." (This was the 70's by the way & I think she was just grateful I wasn't smoking pot at the time & had been arrested.)
Many of us here today & especially her children, knew as much about moms background as can be expected, yet as it was with my dad, when that twilight place came, the memories went further back & her younger self emerged, while the present faded away.
My grandfather, who sadly I never met, was born in Crief, Scotland & after the first World War,(where he was with The Black Watch, serving in Mesopotamia), traveled down to find work in Newcastle upon Tyne. There he met my grandmother at the Green Grocer, (Co-op), where they both worked & then married in 1925. Mom & 3 other children soon followed, 2 years apart; two boys & two girls & as the depression loomed closer, so did the lack of work. Mom told us that granddad didn't have steady work for nine years & things were as tough as the coal mining town they lived in. Two Aunts took the girls in off & on over several years, while the boys stayed at home. Mom quickly became responsible for getting herself & her younger sister on & off trains & back & forth to visit home. The Aunt my mom stayed with was childless & wealthy, while the other was a bit more from the rugged side of the tracks. Mom loved to tell the story about coming to the home dinner table with her own high tea manners, while her sister sat there, swearing like a sailor.
Mom left school at 14, which was not at all unusual, worked in a shoe store & even saw Vivian Leigh & Lawrence Olivia live at the local Royal Theater. She then left home by 17 to join the RAF as the second war wound down, meeting & soon marrying dad. Derek, then Karen were born & soon came the day when dad began talking about immigration to Canada, where he had done some of his flight training. Neither had lived far from their home villages before, but she packed up the children, got on a boat with 2 large trunks, & landed in Ontario, Canada. (I always envied her fortitude & appreciated that whenever we wanted to travel later on, she was always all for it.) I was the third child & little did she know at the time that a move to New Jersey & then Long Island, where Janice was born, was in her future.
All of these moves occurred before I was six years old, which was stressful on all of us, but when dad wanted to make the move to work for Boeing in Seattle, she put her foot down, firmly telling him she was done moving. I guess it took almost a year for her to agree to come, AFTER dads boss called & said she really should at least come for a visit.
We did eventually move here obviously & except for a few years back east again after the SST failed, we made our home here & her children never lived far away. Mom loved the Island & had many good friends & family close by. She always had a full & busy social calendar.
When I was about 9 or 10, summer came & I was ready to go swimming & be an all around lazy kid, when mom announced we were going to volunteer with Head Start in the Central District of Seattle, which at the time had the highest crime area of the city. We took the bus downtown & were literally the only white folks there. This experience as a young volunteer had a huge influence on me & I believe later led me to my work for many years with Head Start.
It was not always easy to be around mom, while knowing she was doing the best she could with what she had. She truly believed her children's lives were 'a walk in the park' compared to her own childhood & she was probably right. I gained a deep love of learning from her & dad, along with the ability to endure, with strength & tenacity, the road ahead.
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