The voice of carping critic shows up to steal your own.
Shake it off.
Petulant child, critic gets nastier, brings an ugly posse.
Panic appears on the cusp of feeling ok and very not ok.
Once upon a time, the battered child, covered in bruises, victim of child abuse, sat in a doctor’s office. When the doctor asked him if he knew why he was there, the child said : because I was bad.
Self-soothing, after trauma whether it be child abuse, war, or life in 2020 under the thumb of abusers and enablers can be channeled through healing pathways even as abuse ‘divorces’ a person from authentic wishes, joys and friends. The din of an abusers’ braying harangue muffles the sound of victims’ dreams. Victim’s voice is thus stolen by the abuser, who then appropriates role of victim, convincing victim that abuser is owed penance. Abuser convinces victim abuse is well-deserved. Victim blamed, shamed into acceptance of their fate, might then slide into ‘learned helplessness’ believing it’s their fault therefore nothing can or should be done for rescue. They have become the bruised child believing he was bad.
Every unreasonable delay in fulfilling the family’s needs, every crazy proclamation by abuser, every incident causing uncertainty, is weaponized chaos as strategy for maintaining power. Abuser is ruled by their own disease, lives in sheer terror they might lose control, lose their absolute power to act ungoverned, finally be held accountable. Accepting their fate, victim enables their own abuse for years, decades, life-times. Generations of loud or quiet genocides propelled into the future – genetically encoding civilizations mesmerized by their own defeat.
I grew up in a childhood home where this was normalized and my work as an artist, along with angels who encouraged me – my beloved teachers, brought me to a healing place. I raised myself in spite of abuse + it was teachers who held my hand, guided me towards my self – they were the First Responders to my art, my life-purpose, intellect + heart. The Lifeguards Of My Soul.
Dear World, I’m worried about you.
I worry for all the people who didn’t ‘benefit’ from the trial run my childhood afforded me.
We can do this, if we stick together, never turn on ourselves or each other as family, earth dwellers. Our humanity and the grace of nature, wildlife, sea-life is our blessing. In my movie, the protagonist named “eVe” reminds us that when goddesses were forcibly removed from culture, faith + law – toxic masculinity thrived. 2021 is our opportunity to slap back at that grabbing hand.
With healing work, individuals and nations can rise from the ashes of survival to thrive on mulch, discarded grief, fertilizing soil, cleansing waters, clearing air, restoring homeostasis to human body and blue planet alike. My own voice flew back in through newly opened windows when I took a blacksmith’s anvil to the abuse and forged mettle.
I recently learned about Saturn/Jupiter convergence heralded as dawning of the age of aquarius. An unexpected spiritual experience for me. Without knowledge of impending convergence, the day before “dawning” I busted out singing a song I barely know “this is the dawning of the age of aquarius” I sang in a parking lot with good reverb just for fun. Taking stock of triggered stress these past four years I found myself again, that 12 year old, intent on one righteous thing : to be me, unashamedly.
In spite of messages bombarding my tiny dancer spirit with disempowering shame, the choreography of me, held on to something. ” She ” carried me through and out – of abuse. “She” carried me toward my purpose, manifesting an inner “convergence.”
December 20, 2020
Today, graced by a pod of dolphins and playful sea lion checking me during my surf session.
Tonight
i look into space
sibling partners dancing
on my naked eye
morphing through the atmo
two spheres telling
one story
my vision plays along with a trick photography sky
