tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5456207808102833272024-03-13T11:48:47.337-07:00Bob Kamm's BlogBob Kamm's Blog: Essays and poems on leadership, love, relationships, childhood, destiny, the sacred and the profane...anything that calls my mind and heart into action.Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-82705310974675786112015-12-17T13:23:00.000-08:002015-12-17T13:23:00.850-08:00Remembering Phil Smart, Jr: The Leader as Good King<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well before he succumbed to cancer on
December 3, 2015, my long-time client and friend, Phil Smart, Jr, asked me to
speak at his memorial service when his time finally came. I was deeply touched and honored by his
request, and, of course, agreed to do so.
Phil was a very organized fellow.
He gave his wife, Sally, and those of us who were asked to participate
in the service, clear instructions.
There were three of us who were asked to give “friend appreciations” and
we were to keep our remarks to five or six minutes—no small challenge. I was asked to speak specifically about the
process on which Phil and I collaborated to develop his business culture and
strategy. What follows is an expanded
version of the remarks I shared at the memorial service that was held on
December 14<sup>th</sup>, 2015 at University Presbyterian Church in Seattle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is what Phil asked me to speak about:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I met him at a seminar I gave on leadership for Mercedes-Benz
in March of 1995. He was the first to
approach me during the mid-morning break.
I was immediately struck by his bright eyes and open-heartedness. As we chatted briefly, he seemed to me less a
business man and more someone already on the path to becoming The Good King, a
concept from the book <i>King, Warrior,
Magician Lover,</i> I was about to introduce in the seminar. The Good King is a
model of a kind of leadership substantially different from what I had generally
seen in business. The Good King creates
right order for his kingdom, so that blessings and creativity occur at every
level. He creates this order by first
developing it in himself, through knowledge of his own inner emotional,
spiritual and mental dynamics. In other
words, The Good King is a person of self-reflection, committed to discovering
the deep truths about himself so that he can continuously grow and bring wise
rule to his realm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This may sound like a fairy tale, but it’s quite doable in
the real world and is a far better choice than the various degrees of
autocratic leadership I’ve witnessed in more than forty years in the business
world. It can apply not only to
leadership of a business, but also a family, a sports team, a religious group, a non-profit,
any organization. Over lunch that day, Phil
told me that while financial success mattered to him, he was more passionate
about his own personal growth and the growth of his people. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> rich capacity for self-reflection and deep
self-correction is not, in my experience, the norm among business people.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But Phil had it in abundance and he was “all
in” for the long-term process I proposed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the following years, he sent more than half his people to
my four and a-half day group leadership retreat
in California and attended himself. He
demonstrated an extraordinary degree of openness and honesty, which made it
safer for the rest of the group to do the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Over many months, he put the entire store through a two day
education in teamwork, and another two days in vision. All of our workshops gave people an
opportunity to share personal as well as professional aspects of their lives,
if they chose. Most did and Phil, who
attended both as a full participant,
subsequently told me that he had come to know many of his people better
in a few days than he had in twenty years.
He relished this kind of deep connection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All managers and a few other key people were offered 3-day
one-on-one retreats with me in
California. Almost all accepted. Phil actually came for this three times over
the years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In 2000, I conducted a two-week leadership experience in
Peru for my clients. We were fifteen in
all from a half-dozen different organizations. Phil wasn’t able to make it at
the time but he was generous in giving time off to the two from the
organization who did come, and helped me with a scholarship for one of them who
couldn’t quite pull together the whole fare by himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back at the store, year after year, we conducted regular Employee
Satisfaction Surveys, Town Hall Meetings, Vision Team meetings and company
dinners. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He had me there at 600 East Pike monthly, bi-monthly or
quarterly for close coaching to help him keep the whole process going. He continued to actively participate every
step of the way, remaining open and emotionally available. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How many business people have you met in your life who would
be likely to make and sustain such a commitment? But Phil was not typical He was a man of many faiths, not just his
religious faith. He had faith in his
people. He had faith in me. He had faith in himself. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He understood, as few do, that every organization, no matter
what its purpose, is first and foremost a community of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">human beings</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, each needing and deserving respect.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Across more than fifteen years and two painful recessions,
he was steady in his commitment…and his faith in nurturing his culture was
borne out with financial success and exceptional employee loyalty. It was common at Phil Smart Mercedes-Benz to
find folks who had worked there ten, fifteen, twenty or more years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So many
leaders lose pieces of their humanity as they gain power and financial
success. Phil’s humanity increased. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No wonder people loved him.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was a very rare man</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It stirs my heart to see so many people here today who were
part of this voyage. It was a saga,
really, a saga of challenge, learning and joy and Phil was the indispensable
force that made it happen. It was ours
and ours alone and because it was so unique, I encourage all of you to share it
generously with others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For Phil was a truly gifted leader. When he was at his best, his joy in himself
was tangible but quiet. When he was less
than the person he wanted to be, he hurt deeply. And in both joy and sorrow, he was willing to
feel deeply, even when that meant tears. He knew and lived the truth that real
men do cry. I have many memories of his tearful joy and sadness…over his fierce love for Sally, Samantha, Savannah and Shafer
and his grandchildren, Cruz and Lulu, his mom and sister, over the agonizing
ups and downs of business, over his struggle to stay connected to a father who
gave a lot of his energy to philanthropy and
public speaking, over his battle with the demon taking over his cells, and
the harsh fact of mortality. It was a
privilege to be a person to whom he revealed himself courageously and without
pretense.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, here is what Phil could not have asked me to speak about,
because all of what follows came into exquisite clarity for me once he had left
us:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I have many beautiful memories of our work together,
the most luminous for me at this moment are not work-related. They occurred during the trip Phil and Sally,
my wife, Andrea and I, made to Peru together this past May. Phil had reached out to me in October after
getting some troubling news about his cancer treatment. He knew I’d been to Peru a number of times
and asked if I would design a trip for them…and if Andrea and I would go,
too. Machu Picchu was on Sally’s bucket
list and he wanted to give her that gift before the possibility of being
overwhelmed by his illness might become inevitable. I told Phil I’d be delighted to design a trip
and the two of us would accompany the two of them, but the best time to go
wouldn’t be until May. He said that was
fine because he was going to need another surgery in early December. Really?
Surgery in December and you want to go hiking in the Andes in May? He told me not to worry, he had a whole
regimen in mind for his recovery and he wasn’t going to hold Sally back. She was a runner and would want to do some
hikes and he was determined to be with her every step of the way. He insisted I design the trip as if he were
completely healthy. I had seen up close
his dedication to fitness as we hiked the trails of California’s Central Coast
together over many years, so I knew what he was capable of and I knew the level
of determination he was able to bring to any challenge. I decided to take him at his word. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time we all met in Los Angeles on the evening of May
2<sup>nd</sup>, Phil looked lean and fit.
No one would have guessed he had just stopped chemo a week before. We did three major hikes during the next 13
days, each more challenging than what preceded.
The last one was more than seven hours on a section of the Inca Trail
that came into Machu Picchu from above.
He and Sally were right out front throughout all 7 miles of it, which
started at about 6500 feet and ended at 9000.
The many pictures I have of them going up and down Inca stairways,
standing in front of a waterfall together, Phil with his arms spread wide in
front of a massive rock, the two of them cheek to cheek at the Gate of the Sun
with Machu Picchu in the background—all testify to his extraordinary vitality,
love of the outdoors, adventure and, above all, Sally. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here are the two particular images that have stayed with me
the most.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After hiking into Machu Picchu, exploring the ruins and
hanging out in the town below for three days, we took the train from Machu
Picchu back to Cuzco. Two musicians in
the club car were playing a raucous rendition of <i>Guantanamera</i> and got all of us up banging a tambourine and dancing,
one at a time (it was a small car on a narrow gauge railway). When it was Phil’s turn, he jumped right in…<i>and the man had moves</i>. He was shakin’, rattlin’ and rollin’ through
the Andes. After all his health
challenges, not to mention the three long hikes, every gyration was an
exclamation point celebrating life.<b> <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the image I cherish the most actually happened a few
hours before, in the train station at Machu Picchu. Andrea and I sat facing Phil and Sally on wooden
benches. As we waited for the train, Sally
lay her head on Phil’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Phil looked at me with the
bright eyes and open-heartedness I had first seen more than twenty years
before. But this time, there was
something else. It had been Sally’s
dream to get to Machu Picchu. He had
been the servant of that dream. He had
made it happen and had been there with her for every single exciting moment. It was a triumph of life over a daunting foe
that sends many cowering through their last months and days. But not Phil.
Now, resting in the station, the dream safely delivered, he held my gaze
so gently, so sweetly for several long seconds. His eyes were deep, warm and
full of love. With Sally’s head against
his cheek, he was a man utterly at peace.
He was The Good King.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">C 2015 Bob Kamm </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-64534410040221801482015-11-19T17:58:00.002-08:002015-11-20T07:57:18.069-08:00Steve Jobs and the Leadership Question, Part II: The Reality Distortion Field<div class="MsoNormal">
Note: Part I of this post is below.<br />
<br />
Steve
Jobs was famous among his own company and colleagues for what came to be called
his “reality distortion field.” This was
meant to refer to a conviction so passionate in Jobs on any given particular
point or belief that he could sweep others up in it, in spite of their own
doubts. Another way to describe this is
with the simpler term often used in psychology:
grandiosity. Jobs believed in his
own superior vision and creativity above all others. He had a grand sense that he was destined to
create the future. This belief in itself
was sufficient to make him unable to deeply consider a lot of the very valid
ideas and objections of those around him.
A very clear example of this is the way the original MacIntosh computer
was brought out. It was introduced by a
60 Second ad debuting at the Superbowl XVIII in 1984, and it was titled,
simply, 1984. It was revolutionary,
indeed, as an ad and has won that recognition—widely considered the greatest TV
ad of all time in its depiction of a “Big Brother” kind of world shattered by a
young female athlete hurling a hammer to shatter the image of the
mind-controlling leader. Heady stuff,
for sure. But in reality (a term with
dubious value around Jobs) there were serious flaws in the Mac. It had no hard drive. It had only 128 K RAM of memory (whereas the
previously introduced Lisa had 1000 K RAM).
It also had only one slot for a floppy disk. It also had no fan because of Jobs’ objection
to the sound, and consequently became known as “the beige toaster” because of
its tendency to overheat. The fact that
these features became “baked in” to the final product is attributed solely to
what Isaacson refers to as “Jobs’ dogmatic stubbornness”, since plenty of
objections were raised by his own engineers in the developmental process. Consequently, though the Mac had a successful
initial run, its sales fell off dramatically.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every
great visionary challenges the limits of the current “reality” as it is
generally accepted by the culture. But a
visionary characterized by a persistent sense of grandiosity and an
accompanying entrenched defensive stubbornness is likely to have a very
difficult learning curve as he travels from the heights of his own grandiose
ideas down to the gritty reality of how things actually play out in the market
place. He is more likely to experience
temporary success, followed by deep disappointment and then blame others for
the failure. This resonates with what
psychologist Alice Miller describes as the cycle from grandiosity to depression
in her book, <i>The Drama of the Gifted
Child.</i> It is probably a waste of
time to consider a lot of the “ifs” in life.
However, in this case, it is hard <i>not
</i>to imagine the MacIntosh would have been a much greater success <i>if </i>Jobs had listened to those who told
him it needed more RAM, a fan, a hard drive and two disk slots instead of
one. Surely, it would have been far more
successful than it actually was. It is
even possible that demonstrating an ability to listen to his people and work
more collaboratively, as opposed to dictatorially, he would have grown into his
position to the point that John Sculley and the Board of Directors might never
have made him uncomfortable enough to resign.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After
Jobs returned to Apple from his “exile” to NeXt and Pixar, he had undoubtedly
gone through some maturing, given the unprecedented string of successes that
followed, beginning with the iPod and running all the way up to the various
versions of the iPad, iPhone and iMac desktops and laptops, the introduction of
iTunes and the Apple Stores. Of course, his genius was never in question and
should not be today. And we may allow
that with age and experience, with marrying and having children, and especially
facing his mortality as he had to deal with cancer, some of the sharp edges may
have come off his way of leading. But I
can find no evidence that his overall style made a transformation to the kind
of brilliant, visionary and humanistic leadership that should be the model for
all of us. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Steve
Jobs, at present and for the forseeable future, occupies a large space in the
firmament of leadership. The “if” of who
he might have been and how different the arc of his personal and professional lives might have been had he
ever found a way to heal some of the dark chaos within him is compelling. We should engage it fully and encourage
students and young leaders alike to do the same. <o:p></o:p></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-80670142392917678762015-11-17T09:04:00.000-08:002015-11-17T10:51:44.654-08:00Steve Jobs and the Leadership Question<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Steve
Jobs died in October of 2011. Since
then, there have been two major movies made about him and the publication of
Walter Issacson’s authorized biography.
It is hard to dispute that in the entire history of humans, there has
never been an entrepreneur so worthy of examination and praise. As Walter Isaacson and others have pointed
out, the companies he created revolutionized personal computers, digital
publishing, music, telephones, tablets and animated movies. To those astonishing achievements, we could
add that he revolutionized digital space itself, making it delightful and
responsive to the average consumer and then went on to do the same with retail
space and even the physical packaging in which our newest technology arrives in
our hands. Now we have the Apple Watch
which, while developed immediately after his death, has the fingerprints of his
creativity all over it, extending his legacy even further. The influence of his
product designs on cultural taste in general is immeasurable. In doing all this, he built two great
companies—Pixar and Apple, the latter becoming the most valuable company on
earth in dollar terms alone. Clearly,
there is much to be admired in the man, his vision and his accomplishments. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because Steve Jobs’ legacy looms so
large, there is also a danger that new entrepreneurs will find it convenient to
refer to him to justify a bullying, badgering, bombastic, brutal, cold,
calculating and manipulative leadership style. Steve Jobs was a screaming
genius—figuratively and, unfortunately, literally. Precisely for that reason, it is important
for wiser people with deep leadership experience to weigh in and state emphatically
that this side of his brand of leadership was not even close to optimal. We may seek to understand and even empathize
with one possessed of so much talent and intelligence and yet so deficient in
psychological balance that he was driven to treat others as he did. But it is
critical that we identify it as unacceptable, inexcusable, unjustifiable, not
to be laughed off or dismissed and certainly not to be emulated. Abuse always has a cause and a result. That doesn’t mitigate it. It is an “ends justifies the means” approach,
a self-justifying pathology It is certainly not to be confused with any
form of well-considered strategic leadership.
The corollary argument that the end products could not have been created
<i>any other way</i> stands on a foundation
of toothpicks. We do not here similar tales of temperament coming out of Google or Facebook or any number of other
companies that are mountains in the new digital landscape. Personally, I have worked for a few people
who had styles similar to that of Jobs, and coached numerous people who worked
under such confusing blends of affection and aggression. I know them all too well. A psychologist would have a field day
diagnosing them and I have no doubt that in the not too distant future, someone
will write a thesis or a book doing just that with Jobs as their subject, going
way beyond the general idea that he carried a deep wound from being adopted. As
Alice Miller pointed out in her book, <i>The
Untouched Key,</i> in most biographies (and I would apply this to Isaacson’s of
Jobs), “individual childhood events usually are not given any prominence.” With the explosive expansion of knowledge in
the field of epigenetics, those “events” will now have to include an inquiry
into the state of a mother during her pregnancy, the nature of the birth itself
and the critical first few months of life—all of which increasingly look, in
combination, like the true foundation of personality, as opposed to the
traditional view that it is the first three to seven years in which this
foundation is established. To shine light into these earliest moments of life
will be daunting but not impossible to the determined investigative biographer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> It’s
important to state that I am a fan and owner of Apple products, as are many of
you reading this, in all likelihood. But
delighting in the results doesn’t mean we can’t imagine getting there
differently. How can we know, beyond our
own intuitive sense and life experience and a few good current contrasting
examples that there was and is a better way?
We can’t conduct a classic double-blind study in which we have Steve
Jobs as he was leading Apple and a transformed Steve Jobs leading the exact
same Apple in parallel universes. But we
don’t have to. Jim Collins and his merry
band of researchers at Stanford have done the work for us. They closely examined some of the greatest
companies of the last hundred or more years in comparison to other companies in
the same business slots to see what distinguished the best. They have published their results in three of
the most important books for anyone interested in leadership, particularly
entrepreneurial leadership: <i>Built to Last</i>, <i>Good to Great</i> and <i>Great by
Choice. </i>What they found was that
generally, the most successful leaders are possessed of a paradoxical blend of
fierce determination to succeed with, of all things, humility. Yes, humility. These are generally people who
are driven, but not unrelentingly. They
are possessed of strong egos but are not egomaniacs. They are demanding but not
histrionic and brutal. They make a lot
of tough decisions, but they also share responsibility for a lot of decisions
with their people. They include and
empower. Perhaps most significantly,
they <i>are not arrogant.</i> That directly
contradicts the popular image promulgated not only by Jobs but by someone as
different from him as Donald Trump. In
fact, when asked about their success, over and over again these leaders avoid
taking credit, instead giving it to their people, recognizing that it truly
takes not just one team but many teams working in a coordinated dance to attain
and sustain success on a large scale.
That is the norm. Jobs’ charisma
was incredibly appealing to many, including, some who were willing to suffer at
his hand. But stylistically, the abusive
side of his brand of leadership is an outlier when considered in the context of
a large population of Fortune 500 company leaders as well as leaders in smaller
entrepreneurships. We should discourage
anyone from emulating it and, instead, show a better way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> In my
own experience of more than forty years in business, the best leaders I have
personally experienced did indeed possess the paradoxical combination of
intense ambition and humility. They were
also cool in the face of enormous challenges, holding to their basic business
principles and practices to pull their people into a creative problem solving
process that would get them through and position them to take advantage of the
opportunities that inevitably arise as markets contract and expand. I have had the privilege of witnessing and
working with men and women who have the flexibility, self-confidence and wisdom
to lead from the front, the middle and the back, depending on what was called
for…sometimes all three within a given day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> By
leading from the front I mean defining the vision, setting the overall
strategic direction, setting the agenda in a particular moment, making the
command decisions that cannot be optimally made by consensus or majority vote
and, in one of their most important roles, being the Educator in Chief to
continuously advance his teams’ knowledge and understanding of both the
short-term and long-term context. In
these activities, he or she occupies the king’s or queen’s throne and embodies
the kind of parental energy that can set boundaries, embrace specific values, create
positive, respectful conditions, identify necessary daily practices that create
consistency and a common language of achievement concepts. These
leaders inspire people to stretch themselves into their very best work to serve
a greater cause. This leader avoids
creating false urgency and instead lays out timetables for achievement that his
teams can make sense of, even if they are demanding. The language from this position can be direct
or poetic but above all, it is clear and without psychological games.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> By
leading from the middle I mean stepping away from the king or queen energy into
the brother and sister energy. In these
situations, the leader conducts him/herself as equal in power to the rest of
the team, engaging in inquiry collaboratively and assuming that he/she doesn’t
necessarily have all the best ideas and cannot understand what people
downstream from him/her are dealing with without deep inquiry and deeper
listening and meditation on the input.
This communicates respect to the individual teammates that goes down
like honey. In such highly collaborative
settings, a vision and the strategy and tactics necessary to achieve it can
become the authentic property of everyone, not just the leader. Smart “leaders from the middle” will often
enlist outsider professionals to facilitate meetings so that they can step into
an egalitarian position with their team members. Doing so humanizes them and fosters their
emotional and mental availability to ideas other than their own or their top
advisors. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> By
leading from the back I mean fully empowering people to do the jobs they are
qualified to do, cheering them as they go forward and resisting the temptation to
tweak or fine-tune every decision they make.
Leaders who do the latter often do not realize that they are betraying a
deep insecurity of their own that manifests in being unable to trust others and
release them to do a job that is more than good enough, even excellent, but
simply different from how the leader might have gotten there. The ability to lead from the back is, along
with leading from the middle, critical in developing the increasing interdependence
of strong players based on ever-growing competencies and trust, and ultimately
engendering an organization that is truly self-sustaining as it feeds on its
own joy in co-creating vitality, innovation and success in all measures. Leading from the back embodies the kind of
parental energy that sees accurately what others are ready to try and
encourages them to be adventurous and self-correct when things fall short of
expectations. There is no “I told ya so”
in this leader. His or her energy is
strong in compassion, encouragement, understanding and patience. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> The
best leaders genuinely are the kind of people about whom staff will say, “I
love him/her. I would do anything for
him/her within my power.” The beauty is,
such leaders do not ask people to go to extremes, the way Steve Jobs did. They are more interested in nurturing
talented people who are devoted to the best available practices for their respective
positions on a consistent basis across days, weeks, months and years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Steve
Jobs has proven that a company <i>can</i>
succeed with tyrannical and bullying leadership. That doesn’t mean it<i> should</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jobs was right when he said of
himself, as reported by Walter Isaacson, “I am not well made.” He knew, for all his brilliance and all his
rationalizations about making the future, there were things within him dark,
chaotic and incomplete. He was a seeker
from a fairly young age—living on a commune, experimenting with recreational
drugs, including LSD, traveling to India to study with a Buddhist guru, and developing
a series of relationships with mentor/father figures. On some level he sensed that there was a deep
pain living in him that had something to do with being adopted. In my experience, that kind of early hurt
calls for psychotherapy, but not any psychotherapy from any average therapist. It requires brilliance and a profound process
that can ultimately reach the earliest hurts, hurts that the mind cannot
identify but the body remembers. The
ferocity of his reactivity points toward insults to the system in the first moments
of life, including during gestation in the womb, the birth experience and the
period immediately following when he and all children are utterly defenseless. Unfortunately,
he never found his way to such a person and process.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Interestingly, he did have a brief
dalliance with <i>mock</i> Primal Therapy
when he was 19. Primal Therapy had grabbed
headlines and become highly controversial after the publication of the <i>The Primal Scream,</i> by Arthur Janov, in
1970. A number of celebrities were open
about attending Janov’s institute in Los Angeles, including John Lennon and
Yoko Ono, actor, James Earl Jones and popular pianist, Roger Williams. It may seem curious, then, that Jobs chose to
go to Oregon in late 1974 for his therapy at a center that was not run or
endorsed by Janov. According to
Isaccson, he paid $1000 for a twelve week experience—a commitment far less than
what Janov required at The Primal Institute, knowing that the process through
which he and his therapists led people was painful and challenging and
necessitated an “all in” mentality to see it through to its full benefits. Since I did receive therapy from Janov and his
staff in my late twenties for a total of two years in the early Seventies, I
can say from personal knowledge that if Jobs had applied at The Primal
Institute, he would not have been accepted.
It was the policy of the Institute at that time to only take people who
were twenty-five or older, and for very good reason. Younger people were not sufficiently
developed to handle the peeling away of defenses and processing of tumultuous
early childhood hurt while still getting up and going to work to take care of
themselves every day. It took a certain
level of experience, emotional resources and some maturity to be able to do
that. Though it was not known at the time that the left side of the brain
doesn’t fully boot up until around twenty-five, clinical experience had made
the point to Janov and his team. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I offer these details because
Isaacson was apparently unaware of them when writing his biography of Jobs and
offers no explanation as to why Jobs went to Oregon to have an experience with
“adherents” of the therapy (which might mean anything), when it was well-known
that Janov himself was practicing on Almont Street in West Hollywood. Janov was insistent that a person could not
practice Primal Therapy until they had completed rigorous training that took a
number of years at his Institute. It
included their having a sustained and thorough experience of their own with the
primal process, as well as a requirement that they get their PhD in psychology
if they didn’t already have it. If they
completed this regimen of therapy, training and academic achievement, they were
then Certified Primal Therapists and free to practice as such. There were a couple of so called “Feeling
Centers” that appeared, in Los Angeles and Oregon, run by people many of whom
might have been in therapy with Janov for a period of time but did not complete
the training and were not endorsed by him.
The mere fact that the Oregon center accepted a nineteen year old Jobs
is alarming to anyone, such as myself, with first-hand experience at Janov’s
Institute. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As Isaacson reports, Jobs was
quickly disillusioned with his experience in Oregon. Since my own experience at the institute was
stunning and deeply healing, as was that of the overwhelming majority of the
people I knew there at the time, I can only wonder how he might have changed
had he applied directly to The Primal Institute in his mid to late twenties…or
had he stumbled upon some other equally potent transformational process, fully
committed to it and made it part of his daily practice for the rest of his life. I have been privileged to know and work with a few such rare leaders. Jobs would likely still have been a visionary
and ambitious but a more consistently humanistic and respectful leader who knew
clearly where the line was between being demanding and being abusive. Unfortunately, whatever he did try was either
insufficient in itself to address the power of his pain, or his practice of
that modality was insufficient. Instead,
he continued to visit rage and tears upon those around him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In all likelihood, the overwhelming
majority of the leaders detailed in Jim Collins’ books were neither devotees of
Buddhism or Western psychotherapy. They
were gifted by childhood experience with more balanced temperaments to lead
through a kind of humble ambition. Still,
we do see pathological behavior emerge in many of these people in terms of how
they manipulate the public, promulgate misinformation, spin or withhold
information, and spend absurdly large sums of money lobbying state and federal
lawmakers to influence policy in their direction, often specifically to lower
or remove regulation and oversight of their behavior to the detriment of the
public. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A serious discussion of leadership
has to address such behavior. It should
not be walled up by economic or business concepts, or glibly dismissed with
platitudes about different personalities.
Leaders are people and as such, just as likely to suffer “the slings and
arrows” as the rest of us. A
psychological perspective is necessary to come to a full understanding of who
they are, why they do what they do, and what, if anything they might be able to
personally do about it themselves if and when they at least have sufficient
pre-cognition to realize they are not “well-made.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Plain and simple, bullying is the
action of a deeply afflicted soul blasting its pain outward. It may be done “hot” the way Jobs did it or
“cold” the way others do it, manipulating markets and bringing the largest
economy in the world to its knees. We
should never accept it as a valid leadership style. It should be dissected in MBA programs
designed to catch the tendencies early and direct people towards therapeutic practices. We should also be aware that people suffering
from such internal strife, be it hot or cold, are worthy of empathy, hard as it
may be to give at times. The bully is
not a happy camper. He or she is an abused
person who has taken on the behavior of the powerful aggressor. Being on either the giving or receiving end
is a devastatingly limited and tortured place to live. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The last thing we need is for such
leaders to be made icons by the press and for people to be willing to follow
them unflinchingly, leaving a trail of their own blood in the street in the
name of fortune or “creating the future.” In fact, the opposite is called for. Such leaders need people who realize they are
suffering from serious psychic pain, people who are courageous and strong
enough to stand up to them and say, “No, we will not follow you as long as you
treat us like this, no matter how smart and talented you are. Get help!”</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-64267297667381404032015-08-10T07:38:00.002-07:002015-08-11T06:19:14.906-07:00Remembering Frank Gifford<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">August 9<sup>th</sup>, 2015.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frank Gifford died today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I go online and gather a lot of information<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> about
him<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--things I didn’t know<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">even though I was a huge fan<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as a kid, as was my father</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as were my brothers</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--our devotion to the New York Giants<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">football team<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> rivaled in
its religiosity<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">only by our devotion to the New York Giants<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">baseball team.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back then<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn’t know Frank Gifford was from Bakersfield,
California.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn’t know his grades were so bad in high school<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">he couldn’t get an athletic scholarship to his dream school<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--USC.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn’t know he played for Bakersfield Junior College<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and made the Junior College All-American Team.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In fact, I didn’t know there was a Junior College
All-American Team.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I vaguely remember my dad telling me he was <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">an All-American once he did make it to USC.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My dad probably knew all the stats of Frank Gifford’s career<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as it unfolded<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">playing three different positions and each <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">superbly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He loved sport stats, my father,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and today<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the day of Frank Gifford’s death<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I discover he had enough achievements<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in a 12 year career<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to fill a pocket sized record book <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> all on
his own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But today, even as I marvel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> at how
much I did not know<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">about him,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am the captive of what I did know<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--the hours<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">spent stretched out beside my father in his bedroom<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> on
Sunday afternoons<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as the Giants’ fortunes rose and fell<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and their names crackled in our mouths<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> like
hard candies<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--Charlie Conerly, Joe Morrison,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rosey Brown and Rosey Grier, Andy Robustelli, Sam Huff,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pat Summerall (the kicker with the golden leg) and <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frank Gifford;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dad’s voice<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">my brothers’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and mine<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">whispering and shouting<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in a harmony of hope<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">frustration<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> euphoria.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet, as sweet and bitter as it is</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to recall those Sundays<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(my father and brothers are all gone;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">my oldest brother, Larry, was a director for ABC</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and actually worked with Frank),</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
at this instant<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I am
gripped by a memory<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of the day Frank Gifford, All-American, All-Pro,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">visited our high school in Summit, New Jersey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was in junior high at the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our classes were in a wing of the same building as the high
school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If memory serves, our All-American high school coach, Howie Anderson,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">made it happen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The event was held in the gym.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frank Gifford did not come alone that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He brought one or two teammates with him,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but I really only remember him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was that big a presence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The entire student body</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> was crammed
onto the wooden bleachers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frank enlisted our two top players<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in a demonstration—Mike Papio, our quarterback<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and Darnell Mallory, our halfback<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> —both
exceptional athletes, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> champs
of our division<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and adored and idolized by all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I do the math today<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I reckon Frank must have been about 29 or 30 years old.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But he had no age that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was young, tall, tapered and beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My father and his friends called him “the golden boy”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but he was more like Mercury than gold.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought Mike and Darnell were geniuses of the gridiron<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but as they all ran plays together</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Frank Gifford showed us a whole new level of mastery<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> that
couldn’t be achieved in high school<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and couldn’t be appreciated through
a TV screen,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a mastery that said, “This is what you get if you keep at
it,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">keep practicing, keep honing your gifts for another ten
years.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He moved like music<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
explosive<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
quick<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> fluid<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in a
way that was his and his alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was animal, wind and god.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His ready and open face<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> shone
with a light<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> that
was his and his alone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">yet shared generously with all of us in the gym that day<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the way a king shares his
beneficence. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Because my father was a journalist</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I had already met a lot of stars</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--Roy Rodgers and Dale Evans, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Gene Autry,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Fess Parker, to name a few.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But in these years of my own athletic dreams</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I had
never seen the likes of him.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was a true action hero before the term was created.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I see him there, still...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Frank Gifford<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> beautiful
in his youth<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and
beautiful in mine<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in a way that only youth bestows<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> when moments
themselves<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> are<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> big</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> deep<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and wide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as a roaring</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> stadium</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and feel like they'll never end.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b>C 2015 Bob Kamm</b></span></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-24981823070724000452015-07-20T15:41:00.001-07:002015-08-10T08:26:25.045-07:00Ordinary Blessings<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%;">for Annie,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%;">on the 8th Anniversary of our first meeting</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We arrive at the sink<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
at the same moment<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
you <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from the
workshop<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from the garden<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
scrubbing the grit from our fingertips<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
smiling
in each other’s eyes.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We agree on sudden changes <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in our
plan for the yard<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
arriving at the same conclusion<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
at the
same moment<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with almost no discussion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We agree on changes <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in our plan for
the yard<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
arriving at the same conclusion<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
after fierce disagreement<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and
finally <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
laughter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We sip coffee and tea on the deck<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
feeling
the cool morning breeze<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We sip wine on the deck<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
feeling
the cool evening breeze<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We laugh at the machinations of the many<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
quail
families<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
chittering<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as
their babies peck at the dirt<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
beneath
mom and dad’s guardian eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We mourn over a crow’s destruction<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of a
wren nest in the pergola.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We begin and end the day with kisses<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
still lavish them<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
alone in elevators<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
or on the street<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
or in a restaurant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We get out the door together<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
on time<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
or early<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
every <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
single <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We savor food, books, our bodies,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
yes our bodies<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
their capacity for pleasure<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
their capacity as instruments of
spiritual fire-making<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
their capacity to affirm <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with a mere touch<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that we
are something<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
real
in a world that often isn’t. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We savor imaginings, memories,
wonderings<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…would we have met if this had happened,
or that…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and celebrate <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that they didn’t <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and we did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We rub each other’s shoulders and
feet<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
hold hands everywhere<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
admire and cherish <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
each other’s spirit<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and intelligence,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
engage in outrageous silliness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
which if revealed to the
public<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
would tank our reputations as
serious people.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We actually listen to hear <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and speak to be heard<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
most of the time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We manage to hold each other<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tenderly<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
knowingly<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
at some point<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
every single day <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in spite of, and sometimes because
of,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
long-lived childhood despairs. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the movie theater’s darkness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
we clutch each other’s hands<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and weep<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
over lost loved ones<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
war<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
inexplicable acts of courage<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
unrecognized
genius<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the all too human<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
inhumanity of man.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we get a splinter<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
bang an elbow<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
stub a toe<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
bump a head<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
when we feel the ache of muscles,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the wearing of joints<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--pain in the hands<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
feet<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
lumbar<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
elbows<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
shoulders<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ankles,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
when we contemplate together<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the long look back<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and the ever-shortening<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
forward,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
when we witness demon diseases<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
drawing down the shades<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in the cells<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of family and friends<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…then we know <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the usual search for miracles<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
is misguided<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
because each moment <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
no matter how <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ordinary<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
mundane<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
routine<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
predictable <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
freighted with feelings<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
falling
far short of joy <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>is</i> miraculous<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> is</i> life<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
living itself <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
standing strong and bending before
its own wind<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
illuminated and blinded by its own
light<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
instructed and
frightened by its own darkness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
mesmerized by its
own music <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--the sound of tears
joining rain<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
laughter <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
thunder--<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
every nuanced moment<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--even the uncounted<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
unnoticed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
certainly uncelebrated
ones<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--and every ordinary breath<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a blessing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 107%;">C Bob Kamm 2015<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 107%;">July 16.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-6358832345132210982015-01-05T15:18:00.000-08:002015-01-09T06:22:30.600-08:00Pure Dialogue<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">for Annie</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></i>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the deepest place
within me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I am listening<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
I am listening<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to you…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> from
the place of firsts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> first sensations<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> feelings<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> images<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> voices<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the place
before words<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and
the place where first words emerged<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> from cooing
and soft gazes <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> when
their meanings were wet<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and clear<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as the eyes of a child<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> witnessing his first rain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am listening from <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> of
first encounters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
the way small children do<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> sitting on a curb<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> close enough
to hear each other’s breathing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> every
little sound of lip and tongue<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
close enough to lift an
eyelash from a cheek. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Listening and looking<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">from this place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I hear you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I see you <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as<i> you</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
and only <i>you</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> discovering
you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as you
discover yourself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> both<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the little girl <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> raising a bouquet of lavender<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to her father’s troubling
gaze <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and the woman <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> who asks that I be a better
person<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and face
her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> with soft eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In this place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I feel your
truth<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in a way that is self-affirming<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> free of judgment<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> or
interpretation<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and calls me to
give you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> all
that is within my reach<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and much
that is just beyond it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought I was a winged being<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> but find I am just now<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> shimmying
from my chrysalis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From the deepest place within me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I am speaking<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I am speaking<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> from the place of my first awakenings<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to the love and hurt<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> my mother carried<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> from her
own first place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
my father from his<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
my older brothers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> grandparents, aunts, uncles,
cousins,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> my neighbors, classmates,
coaches and teachers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
the town’s shop owners and policemen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
everyone, it seemed,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
each and all carrying<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> their
gifts and unassuaged needs <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> into their lives<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and mine<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> gifts
and cracked pieces of themselves<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> that
became the stones of my path<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the giant trees<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> slopes and cliffs<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I climbed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the rivers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> glens and woods<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I crossed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to arrive here<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in this moment<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in the glades <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of your eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From this place,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> my love,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> my words, pace,
tones and gestures<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> will be <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to the best of my striving<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Love’s
choices <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> so
you can readily receive<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
what I share<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">discover me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as I discover
myself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and both of us affirm<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that while you may
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> unwittingly <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> rub against<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> an abiding loss or injury<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> from those early days<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> you are
free from blame.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
The transgression happened long ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and though it still lives in me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and often resists revelation<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
you <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> were <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> not <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> even<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You were in your own first place <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> trying to hold on to<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> your own truth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Speaking from my first place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> revealing
the small boy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
placing a spray<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> of
forget-me-nots<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> at the feet of his busy mother
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I can
reveal what is real for the man<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
in a clean request<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> you can answer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> or
decline<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> for you are as free to say no <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as
yes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> we meet <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> face
to face<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">each of us arriving from <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a place of firsts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> into this new one<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
we create<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> together <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
with willingness and wonder<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> tenderness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> reflection
and remembrance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">each bringing offerings of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> words<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> waiting<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> listening<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> silence<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> this place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> where mingled
tears<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> remake
us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to
glisten<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in the morning sun<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> this place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> where we
name each other<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as
if whispering<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Eden's first words</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">this place</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
where wild compassion <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">blooms <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> from consciousness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and
from compassion<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> connection.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"> Bob Kamm 12/14<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-2881001727600832982014-05-21T07:00:00.000-07:002014-05-21T07:00:34.802-07:00Why We Blame<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the most difficult things
for many of us to do is break the habit of blaming others for our situation and
our feelings. In my role as a leadership
development consultant working with organizations large and small, I’ve found
this to be rife in spite of much talk about personal initiative and
responsibility. However, the one place
where I see it most graphically on display is in my capacity as an Imago Educator working with distressed couples. Almost any upset will send us reaching for
our hip-mounted six-shooter to blast off a couple of blames, shames, sarcastic
remarks, criticisms, put-downs, mocks or outright attacks. Of course, not everyone voices these, but
they are no less limiting when they happen within the confines of the mind,
manifesting as “the cold-shoulder” or stonewalling or an eruption in the chat room between our ears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clearly, a cascade of this kind of
negativity damages and limits intimacy.
So why do we do it? It seems
almost self-evident this is a behavior developed in childhood for the simple
reason that in childhood, we have no or little power (depending on our age) and
other people have all the power, especially our caregivers. We need them to fulfill our needs. We are other-directed from birth. The source of food is mother’s breast. Warmth and protection are in her or Dad’s
arms as well as the ability to dry us when we are wet, cool us when we are hot,
soothe us with holding, rocking, cooing and singing when we feel bad and
stimulate us to learn and feel good. We are incapable of providing and creating
safety for ourselves in all its many forms.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a well-nurtured childhood, this
other-orientation would give way increasingly to the rise of our competencies
and sense of selfhood. In fact,
childhood could be seen as a gradual journey from powerlessness to, ideally, full
empowerment. In a perfect world, we would
ultimately be able to fully care for ourselves physically, emotionally and mentally and enjoy others as friends,
companions, team-mates, partners, fellow citizens. We would have a fluidly clear sense of what
lives within us—those things for which we are responsible and those things we
do, in fact, have power to influence or change. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the evidence is that most of us
do not get to adulthood through well-nurtured childhoods. We are highly vulnerable during the first
many years of life. But the period
beginning with conception, including all of gestation, followed by the birth
experience and the first three years out of the womb constitutes a time of
exceptional vulnerability—a fact that most of us adults don’t seem to be able
to hold in consciousness for very long.
This is likely so because our physical and emotional suffering from that
time is utterly out of reach of the adult day-to-day mind. In our culture, day-to-day tends to be
dominated by left-brain functions. Early
painful imprints were laid down in the brain stem, the limbic system and the
right brain. As the saying goes, “You
can’t get there from here” or, put another way, why would we believe we can
think our way (left brain) out of what we were wounded into (brain stem, limbic,
right brain)? In The Emotional Brain,
Joseph LeDoux highlights the fact that the neuro-pathways from the limbic brain
up to the cortex are far more plentiful than those returning. This makes sense because our brains evolved
upward, not downward. This is surely one
of the main reasons Harvard neuro-anatomist and author of My Stroke of Insight,
Jill Bolte Taylor, has stated “we are feeling creatures that think” not
thinking creatures that feel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The likelihood is that the deficits
we experience in the womb, at birth and those first three years are so strongly
taken into the early brain that they set up a neural architecture that is only
added to when other insults to the system come in the following years. As I
have said often, this is not about blaming parents who, by and large, did the
best they could with what they had. But
it <i>is</i> about discovering cause in
order to understand better how to address the issue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has struck me recently that when
we feel so angry with a partner that we whiz around a kind of high-speed
merry-go-round over and over again about what they did versus what they should
have done, we are re-enacting a moment in childhood that probably happened to
most of us several times and which we have buried because it occurred so early
and was so excruciating. <i>That was the first
moment when the deficit of nurturing crossed a threshold into the unbearable</i>. Something in us cried out to our
parents. We didn’t have the words but
the basic meaning was: “You must change!
I cannot bear
this. You’ve <i>got</i>
to start loving me the way I need to be loved!" Again, we didn’t have the words or the
ideas. We had the experience, though, on
an organic level. The cries reverberated
within our cells and tender souls. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In The Continuum Concept, Jean
Liedloff teaches us that we are born with naturally unfolding
expectations. These are, again, on the
organic and implicit level. We expect to
be protected in the womb. We expect to
have a tolerable birth. We expect to be
soothed and calmed after birth. We
expect to be suckled at our mother’s breast.
We expect our parents to be fully responsive to our need for skin
contact, soothing sounds, appropriate stimulation. When these expectations are met, we have what
Liedloff calls “a sense of inner rightness.”
Biologically, she is probably describing homeostasis. Need arises, is met and subsides. We are calm.
All is good. This process unfolds
throughout childhood with the needs changing as we develop. What does not change is the innate
expectation that our caregivers will largely be there for us, will “regulate”
us until we can learn to regulate ourselves, which is to say, care for
ourselves. Considering this, it is a <i>devastating</i> <i>shock to our fragile and open beings</i> to experience parents/caregivers who, for
whatever reason, are not giving and cannot give enough of what we naturally
need to protect and nurture a sense of inner rightness. In adult terms, inner rightness is to feel
like ourselves, comfortable in our skin, psychologically solid, capable and
confident enough to take on life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a terrible loss to
suffer—the loss of trust and safety amplified by our dependence. It is cause for grieving. The first station of grieving is shock and
denial. Here, perhaps, we see the first
experience of shock—in utero or in infancy.
This is an overwhelming moment.
It makes sense that since our brains are so far from fully developed, we are not able to fully process it
in consciousness, which is a delicate neural web itself at this point. Denial follows (a neural-electro-chemical sequestering) as a survival mechanism to
help us get through to physical adulthood and, hopefully, material
independence. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, to be a physical
adult does not necessarily mean we have arrived at emotional adulthood. How could we, carrying such a legacy of
unresolved hurt? In adulthood, this hurt
that stubbornly resists identifying its true origins naturally transfers to our
partner more than all other people in our lives, though we may project it onto
bosses, friends, politicians and oligarchs. But with our partners, we are more
exposed emotionally than we have been since childhood. In other words, adult love relationships have powerful resonance with childhood experience. This is not only an experiential truth. It is a neurological truth. After the initial romantic phase of falling
in love, we awaken to the reality that our partners are not us, are not here
for the singular purpose of satisfying our every need, including those of which
we were bereft long ago. In short, as
much as we like to describe them as “a dream come true” in the romantic phase,
in reality, our partners are not our dream persons. (Is that a burden any of us would want to
carry for a lifetime anyway? Wouldn’t we
rather be our partners “real person”?) No matter how much we love them and they
us, there are ways in which we are different enough that it triggers that old
hurt of feeling totally alone yet dependent on someone who “really doesn’t get
me.” We are indeed back in childhood
shock/denial, wishing they were different (“if-only-ing”) and anger—the first
three stations of grieving. Why are we
so deeply stuck here? Because the very
essence of the childhood predicament is that we are not safe and not yet
capable of consciously experiencing and processing the full depth of the hurt
of what it is to be at the mercy of those who cannot consistently enough care for us as we need, in spite of their best efforts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The
thing we most need to do in adulthood is the thing that was most forbidden in
childhood—to weep our way past our shock, wishing and anger down into the full
sense of fear and abandonment…and even to go beyond weeping to deeply feel the
physical pain that is often the core hurt in the pre-verbal years.</i> It makes sense, then, that barring a full
immersion in such a process, in adulthood we would be caught in a kind of
repetition compulsion, if you will—focused on our partners and desperately
wanting them to change now, blaming and criticizing them when they won’t, can’t
or don’t <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even with the best therapist,
breaking this cycle is likely to be difficult.
However, it is within reach for people who have the emotional bravery
and the good fortune to have a therapeutic process that helps us feel safe
enough to go there. We are not dependent
little children any longer. Our brains
have fully booted up. We have
psychological and social resources available to us that were not there in
childhood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As scary or painful as it may be, this
requires skills different from what the day-to-day strategic accomplishing mind
offers. Cognition may help some, particularly in increasing our awareness of
the impulse to blame/go negative. It can
educate us and nudge us toward taking responsibility for what resides within
us. In doing so, surely new neural
pathways are being developed. But when
we talk about neural plasticity, there are a few critical questions we would be
wise to continuously ask: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><i>In what
part of the brain are these new neural pathways being developed?</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><i>Does
development of new pathways in, say, either Pre-frontal Cortex correlate to
changes in the deeper, older systems where early childhood pain is likely
held? </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]--><i>Finally,
what do these changes mean in terms of sustainable body-mind health? </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It seems a “no-brainer” (pun
intended!) that whenever we learn something, we develop new pathways. The questions above go to what kind of
learning is taking place and whether or not it actually contributes to more long-term
openness, consciousness and health or is actually a new stealth form of
self-suppression. After all, we have
ample examples in the history of humanity, not just the history of
psychotherapy, of individuals learning what is best for them yet going ahead
and doing the exact opposite. This is
likely because it is literally a top-down approach, meaning that we are trying
to think our way beyond something that does not yield to the most brilliant
left brain because the locus of the generating dynamic resides in the emotional
and sensory systems, literally embedded in a different part of the brain. The skills necessary for resolving them have to
do with emotional and sensory learning, learning to let go and surrender to what
lives within our bodies and hearts in its original childhood context, not
figuring it out or controlling it. This
would be a bottom up process fully in alignment with the way the brain
evolved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If we are to help people break the
behavioral grip of reactive blaming, isn’t it clear we will have to make ample
space amidst the words and ideas for emotional, non-verbal and even somatic
experience? Wouldn’t this be true of both
individuals and couples? And doesn’t it
make sense to be looking for how old neural pathways are changed and new ones
generated in the brain stem, limbic system and right brain, too…in other words,
in the entire brain?</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>C 2014 Bob Kamm</b></span></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-54466124996243916682014-05-08T10:53:00.002-07:002014-05-08T10:53:55.494-07:00Moment<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walking down the
mountain<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this rock is here<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> not
there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is shaped just so<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> not
any other way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This plant is there<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> not
here.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is shaped just so<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> not any other way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A living plant, thriving<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> while
this other plant is dying<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and that one over there <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is
clearly dead.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This lizard<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is
on a rock over here<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in
the sun<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">not anywhere else<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">until my moving shadow sends him
scurrying<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> for a still shadow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rock<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
plant<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> lizard.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is fog over the ocean<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> all the way to the horizon,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">almost no wind<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in
a season when it’s usually windy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And though it seems that wild onions,
indian paintbrushes,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">buttercups, bush lupine, monkey flowers
and morning glories are blooming<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> everywhere,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> they are not.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everywhere is a collection of precise
somewhere’s.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each plant is in its place and nowhere
else<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and there is
considerable space between all of them<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">filled with many others less obvious to
the eye right now<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">—wild cucumber vines,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yerba Buena, coyote
brush, ferns, <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">incipient goldenrod and stinging nettle<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">shiny bushes of the three-leaved oak<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> men
curse and deer devour<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> --the
blooming <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and not-yet-blooming—<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">not to mention the grasses—veldt,
fountain, giant reed,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> wild
oats, smooth brome<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">—the seeding <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and not-yet seeding-- <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> each an exact life in an exact place <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
in its own moment<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in
my moment<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in
this moment…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the one that is not mine<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the one that cannot be owned,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> only entered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My body has lived sixty-seven years<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> beyond
my mother’s,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">not forty-seven, not eighty-seven<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but this body right now<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> thankfully strong enough <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that I
am here on this mountain,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">though my skin has given up some radiance<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as a homage to time,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My eyes with bifocals<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> not
the falcon’s vision of my youth<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but not the blindness I may one day <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">be privileged<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to
know as a very old man<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">whose moments will be more laden with
memories<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> than
the making of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Body strong.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Breath strong.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Spirit strong.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bereft of mother<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">father<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> brothers<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> alone
here on this mountain<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the deep sorrow of walking so far
beyond them<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> fully
mine<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the deep joy of finding a companion<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to
walk with me<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to the end,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of seeing my son become a man beyond<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the
one I raised him to be,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of having good work helping others in
ways<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I
never imagined<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--all gathered together,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">fully mine.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> My moment<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> --loved
and loving<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">still striving<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">still striding toward that very specific<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">final step<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">beyond anger and
judgment<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> where the embrace<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of all that has come
and might come<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is complete.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rock<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">plant<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">lizard<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">body<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">breath<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">sorrow<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">joy<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">memory<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">yearning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am here<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> nowhere else<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> shaped
just so<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> not any other way,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> fully in my moment<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> which opens its chrysalis<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> into<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the moment that cannot be owned,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the one that can only be entered,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the one that I enter<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b>C 2014 Bob Kamm</b></span></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-90966697700762734882014-02-20T09:38:00.000-08:002014-02-20T09:38:48.626-08:00The Gaze<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;">f<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or my granddaughter Kiera<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She is nearly one year old<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and has probably learned more <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in this
year,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">making all the new and strange<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> familiar,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">than I have in the last twenty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">clearly she has not heard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that stars reside light years away<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">because<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">her eyes are twin blue stars <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">right here<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> before
us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clearly she has not heard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that blue stars in particular<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">are so hot<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">they are gone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in the blink<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of a cosmological
eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her twin blue stars warm<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> with no danger of burning us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or burning out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet there is another kind of light<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that arises from her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but does not originate in her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is gathered by her presence,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">called home by her cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have seen this light <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> on the
cheeks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> of
white orchids<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in the rainforest of Peru<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--a light that filters down through<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">layered leaves and <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> nestles silently on petals,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a soothing glow<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> that quiets
you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and draws you closer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Twin suns gazing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cheeks gathering.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A small smile summoning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All saying silently together, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I am here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I see you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I see you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
seeing me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am awake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I am
alive!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">C 2014 Bob Kamm</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-75406955152068749562014-02-20T09:35:00.000-08:002014-02-20T09:39:12.037-08:00Hold the Sky<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 8.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">for my granddaughter, Ember<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My granddaughter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Ember<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">just short of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">her second birthday<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">reaches up, out, down<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">because holding<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">is new and <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> how she understands things best.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She literally grasps <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in order to grasp<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but not just with hands<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as she did some months ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--a tiny plastic dinosaur, a piece
of apple, a stick<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">her grandpa’s glasses—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">now with her arms, her whole body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hold!” she sings reaching her
arms out, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> her
tiny torso arching to the effort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(All her words are small songs,
even <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">single syllables have at least two
notes).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She sees a tree outside<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and sings, “Tree. Hold!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She points to the clouds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and sings, “Clouds. Hold!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and the sky, “Sky. Hold! Hold!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this one with more intensity <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">reaching her arms almost straight
up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “Can you hold the sky, Ember?” I ask<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yeah,” she answers with two
notes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“And can the sky hold <i>you</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yeah,” two notes and a nod<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> of utter certainty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She throws her head back,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
stretches her whole body,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> rises on her toes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as if to will herself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">higher and higher<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
until she can <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> hold the sky<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and by holding<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> know it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Later in the day<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
walking alone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I look up and think, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’m almost seventy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and maybe I’ve forgotten<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> how to understand
the sky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not talking about collisions
of molecules<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> or the scattering of light waves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m talking about<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <i>knowing</i> the sky<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as only a mystery can be known<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
by getting your arms around it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> pressing yourself
against it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> letting your heart beat into it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and its heart beat <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> into you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe I need to reach higher.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe I need to reach harder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe I need to stretch my body more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe I need to throw my toes all
the way into it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as I once did <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> long ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> when I first held the
sky<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and the sky<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> held<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">C 2014 Bob Kamm</span><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-51728332811915571192014-01-20T16:55:00.000-08:002014-01-26T06:43:19.699-08:00Apologies to the Goddess<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kwan Yen--our
little goddess of compassion. We found
her in a local nursery. She is slim<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and stands
only four feet tall but weighs close to two hundred pounds from molded
concrete.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A concrete
goddess…how’s that for an oxymoron? She
is coiffed and clothed as a Chinese girl should be </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and would
even warrant the adjective demure but for her small right foot—all five perfect
little toes--</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">boldly presenting themselves from beneath her floor-length skirt. Is
it because she is going somewhere?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; tab-stops: 161.25pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did the artist capture her in the midst of a small but sure step or
is this a subtle offering, a promise of a different kind of divine delight? I guess we will never know. Her lips are sealed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we stood
her against the small arched wooden bridge in our front yard we thought it the
perfect place for her energy to emanate and envelop our entire acre. And for a number of months it was so. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This goddess
of compassion made compassion reign.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Flowers
bloomed, fruit appeared, birds and butterflies filled the air.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But then, the plague arrived, the plague of oak moth
caterpillars gnawing their way through our luxuriant oak canopy, rappelling
down from the heights like an endless gang of warriors. They covered our walls and walkways with their skinny
black and green bodies and copper helmets and their poop—which scientists have
given the dubious name frass. Frass descended
from the leaves above blanketing everything, its smell spoiling every inhale. A biologist friend told us this is a once
every six or seven year phenomenon. If you don't do commercial spraying (expensive!) right at the first sign, it's a waste. The
oak trees, though utterly stripped, will rebound. The caterpillars will become
pupae and the pupae moths but once hatched they will move on and even if they
don’t their children, the next generation of caterpillars, will die at the
hands of a tiny parasite that takes but a single generation to catch up to its
prey. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Isn’t nature wonderful?
The balance! Ah!! It only takes one year for the parasites to
overtake the marauding worms and set things right. So our friend, counseled, since we woke up to the invasion too late for commercial spraying, we should “become
one with the caterpillars.” In other words, let Kwan Yen’s spell of mercy
abide.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alas, we could not. The smell of the frass was too “in your
nose”, the sight of the caterpillars too icky.
Yes, so icky that a couple in their sixties had to reach back to the
childhood word icky to describe them. And the final straw floated down when
they covered Kwan Yen’s tiny toes, nose, eyes and ears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now you might say they were showing her affection. One of the stories about her tells us that
animals had an affinity for her, even helped her do burdensome chores in a
monastery hundreds of years before St Francis spoke to birds in Europe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You might say they were showing her respect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You might say the caterpillars were worshipping at her feet,
on her feet, limbs, hands, face and hair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And you might say they were a dastardly pestilence <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that needed to be mercilessly wiped<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">from the earth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Believe me, we tried to be good students of our goddess, to
be one with one with the worm, one with the frass, one with the pupae. Unfortunately, like
all humans except those who attain godly status we were weakened by our
anger. We attacked those worms and their
little sleeping pods with environmentally friendly death sprays, wire brushes,
power washers, blowers and outdoor vacuums strong enough to uproot an oak. We sucked, squashed, smashed, blew and
blasted them off our walls and deck. As
each day passed we embraced our murderous mission with greater zeal, driven to
the precipice of madness by the pungency of frass. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But finally, it was over.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every last worm was either dead or had spun its tiny sanctuary of transformation
in the branches beyond our reach.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then
and only then did we approach our freshly washed goddess to ask for compassion when
we had given none, mercy when we had been merciless.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the legend tells us she refused to go
into heaven because she heard the cries of the world and wanted to return to
assuage them.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Weren’t those cries now
coming from us?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, but our cries,
were not at first for forgiveness, because we did not seek it.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We did not feel guilty, initially.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After all, if we had not done the
killing, wouldn’t the parasites?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How
would that have been preferable?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We felt ambivalent and confused. We were both sorry and not sorry. That's what we cried to have lifted from us--ambivalence and confusion. We cried over our low tolerance for frass falling from
the sky, sharp smells, gangs of insects that, unlike the migrations of monarch
butterflies, had for us no redeeming qualities whatsoever; a low tolerance in
general for beings—human and otherwise—that were different, and neither
beautiful nor useful in their differentness. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We cried out not only for mercy
and understanding.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We cried out for the the
spell of being human to be re-cast so that compassion would <i>live </i>in our hearts,
not just flop on the couch for a week from time to time.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We cried out for
the strength to </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">trust more, allow more,
witness more.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We cried out for our
capacity for anger to be reshaped into a greater capacity for love that we might be one with nature and one with mankind and our wars against both might finally come to an end.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Only weeks after the moths left,
the canopy was full and lush again, in fact, more luxuriant than it had been
before the caterpillars arrived. The
irony weighed heavily upon us. Heavily. We stood in the shade surveying our little piece
of reborn heaven, trying not to notice that the ground was littered with tiny
graves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">C 2014 Bob Kamm</span><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-66069375992892887482013-11-27T08:13:00.001-08:002013-11-27T08:14:51.342-08:00A Poem of Thanksgiving<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: -.2in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Inspired by</span></i><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <i>elder
Gerry Oleman <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: -.2in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%;">of the Coast Salish People of British Columbia<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%;">during his welcoming remarks at the 9<sup>th</sup>
Annual Imago Conference in Vancouver, BC, 2012<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Long before us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
skies<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
sun and moon<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
oceans <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
deserts<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
forests<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
meadows<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
mountains. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Long before us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
eagle<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
and all that lived beneath her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Long before us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
rain
tapping on the beetle’s back. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Long before us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
reflections in pools
of quiet creeks<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
flowing and
frozen,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
reflections of overhanging trees, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">
the movement of
light on berries, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
the
faces of buck, doe and fawn,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
raccoon, wolf, cougar,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
ovenbird rocking on twig,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
the
tightening of night’s grasp<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
on trunks and rocks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But no images<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of
human face<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
not one<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
not in puddle or
pond<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
not in the hand mirrors of ice-clad leaves,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
not even in the eye of predator
or prey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Long before us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
beings of all kinds<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
writing their exquisite <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
and desperate<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
life stories <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
on
pages of earth, air, water, bark and stone,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
leaving behind few traces<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
-- faint echoes
broken by wind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not for us the great awakening of
life<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but each life for itself <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and the shimmering whole<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
and the joy and
sadness <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of The Mother and Father of All
Things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Mother and Father of All
Things<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
who through their <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
restless risky
dance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
made the universe <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from a solitary seed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-the seed of all seeds<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
all beings<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
all
things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are here now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And though we strut about<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
proud parrots,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
we are small,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
late-comers to the festival.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We still don’t know the dances.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
If we are honest<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
we must wonder<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
if The Mother and Father of All
Things<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
for a single
moment<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in the reckless ecstasy of
creativity<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
imagined<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
we would become so discontent<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with the abundant gardens They
provided,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
would set out<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
to live <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
not just outside them<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
everywhere<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with such fiery intention<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
our success was
assured.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Did Mother and Father,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
having birthed all things<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in the reckless
ecstasy of creativity <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
from the seed of
all seeds,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
pause<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
even
for a moment <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to imagine<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
that one day <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
their favored principle<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
of hunter and
hunted<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
would run amok in us,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that we would<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
discard and devour<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
so
much of the earth<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
and hound so
many species<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
as well as our
own mothers, fathers<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
brothers, sisters<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
sons and daughters<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
into
a Great Vanishing?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With such history behind and
within us, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
how is it that Mother and Father<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
still let us
live<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
let us struggle to find our way<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
toward
redemption?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are They simply indulgent weavers
who cannot discard<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
a deeply flawed
blanket<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
whose dark designs they have come
to love?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or are They truly possessed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
of a compassion beyond our comprehension?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
At this moment<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
life
is ours.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let us set our feet on the path<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with prayers <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
of thanksgiving.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let us say, “Thank you!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
to
Mother and Father.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let us say, “Thank you!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
to
all They put here before us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
that
led to now,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you!” to all that is,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you!” to all that will be.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For fourteen billion years <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
we <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;">
were <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
not
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mother and Father birthed the
universe<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
without a hand from us,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
worked out its drama<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
through cold and
hot fury,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
barrenness,
solitude, roar and silence,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
then
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
gave
us <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
the chance to wriggle <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from long-ripening wombs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why us? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why was each of us born and not
others?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why did we make adulthood and not
others?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How can we show our gratitude and
worthiness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for such a chancy investment?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Let us offer
still more thanks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let us give thanks <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
to The Mother
and Father of All Things<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
for having <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
the wild,
foolish, restless impulse to choose <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and not brother sperm<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
or
sister ova.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let us thank the earth They made<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
which has given rise to all we
draw upon<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for
sustenance and succor<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--to the waters we use<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to grow and cook,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
slake our
thirst,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
clean our bodies, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
frolic and fish;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to the soil that gives rise to plants <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
that give us
sweet air to breathe,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
plants we eat,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
plants we use to weave, build, warm, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
trap, hunt, play and heal;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let us give thanks<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to all the beings <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from the tiniest we cannot see<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
to the largest<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
whose flesh,
bones, sinews and skins<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
we have taken <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
with ecstasy and
sadness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for we know they were not made
for us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but for themselves, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
for the
shimmering whole<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
and for Mother and Father<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in their incomprehensible creative
fervor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let us give thanks to the long
bead chain of grandmothers <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
who<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
carried and birthed other
grandmothers until<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
our own mothers ripened and
carried us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and helped us wriggle into the
wild, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
beautiful,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
sad
and terrifying <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To all who were present at the
moment of our births<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
we give thanks,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the family and tribe that cared
for us <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in our helplessness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
when we were pure<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
and yet<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
knew nothing<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and all those who caressed and
patted us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
along
our way to discover<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
how
to become human beings<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
how to live and
love<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
with
elegance and awkwardness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
brilliance and ignorance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
how
to sing, dance, drum, whoop, laugh,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
whisper and weep <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
together,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
how to hold each other with bold
affection<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and
yet step back so each of us can<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
hear<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the
song of his own being.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
May we raise our children<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with
such right love<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--devotion without indulgence--<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that
before long<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
across
the many lands<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
each
soul is a gathering place<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
where
all souls are safe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then may our ways<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
be fragrant as spring soil<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
and
tasty as ripe berry juice<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to
Mother and Father<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
so They might find
us worthy<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
of their work and worry,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
give
us<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
lives<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
that are <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
good<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
and long<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
and
end <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
with
our cheeks <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
on Their chests<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
as
we listen to Their hearts <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
drum<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
drum<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
drum<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
before
setting out <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
for the gardens<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
in
the bright reaches<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
of
their eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%;">C Copyright 2012 Bob Kamm,
reproduction by author’s permission only.</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-12401788357534508592013-07-26T08:36:00.000-07:002013-08-10T12:01:46.431-07:00My Brother Lew Has Cancer, Part II<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My brother, Lew, had cancer.
He died on the evening of July 8<sup>th</sup>. He was sixty-eight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It still feels unreal.
He was only diagnosed in April of
2011. I know, many others go much
faster. Our oldest brother, Larry, was
gone suddenly in a matter of weeks back in 2004, at sixty-four. If this were a hundred years ago, both of
them would have been considered old. But
it isn’t and they weren’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Untimely death. Maybe
we call it that because when someone is taken too soon, it scrambles our sense
of time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today is 1955. The
latest national event is Fess Parker playing Davy Crockett on TV. Our father, a New York City journalist,
manages to arrange for us to meet him. I
am eight. Lew is ten. We walk into a hotel room in New York and
there he is, all six foot five of him, in buckskin and a coonskin cap. We sit on his knees. He shows us the enormous bowie knife. He tells us that the Georgie Russell
character played by Buddy Epsen wasn’t a real person, but represents a number
of sidekicks that Crockett had. We feel
as if we’ve been initiated into special information from a larger-than-life
figure. He gives us each a coonskin
cap. We have our pictures taken, sitting
there on his knees, in our caps. We are
going to wear them for the next several months, go to sleep with them on our
pillows. We are going to be celebrities
in our neighborhood because we got them directly from “Davy Crockett
himself.” We will spend the summer
running around the little town of Highlands, New Jersey, where our grandfather
lives, with coon tails flying—flags of boyhood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is today. It
walks with me. If I take a quick step in
the right direction, I can be running up Bay Avenue in Highlands, a mile from
the ocean with Lew beside me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s also today that he is asking me again about our
mother’s final days. He wants to know
the mechanics of going to sleep until the end comes. She had morphine pills placed under her
tongue. She slept for five days and
died. He is going to ask Nancy, his
oncologist about methodology. He
continues to have breakthrough pain at night and he and Nancy continue to
adjust the medication to combat it. Cancer
not only consumes the body. It consumes
the mind. Beyond a certain point there
is nothing else to think, feel, talk or learn about but this treatment, that theory,
this drug combination, the quality or personality of this doctor, nurse, lab
tech, survival rates, the fate of others with similar afflictions and, above
all, pain and managing pain. The joys
and interests of a lifetime are utterly upstaged. Lew has thought hard about
the courage it took our mother to say, “I’m there. No more.
This is it. I want to sleep now
until the end.” He tells me, “This <i>isn’t </i>it, yet, but it’s getting close. I want to be prepared.” There are discussions
of “the sublingual approach” being “a general part of the hospice comfort pack”
and “fentanyl lollipops for immediate control of pain.” Fentanyl lollipops. Could the inventor of lollipops ever imagine
that phrase? All at once, things are
moving faster than any of us have foreseen.
I’m booked for a return visit.
I’ve been convinced he’ll still be alive and awake when I get
there. Now I’m not so sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then, suddenly, this email from him: “This IS it Bob. The combination of pain, fluids, and this and
that over the past 2+ days has reached the point where Anne and I have this
very evening to stop the dance…this has happened very quickly. Where does this leave you? Staying home?
Trying to have one last visit when I don’t know what the situation will
be? It leaves you and me forever in one
another’s arms in ways that I’m sure neither of us would ever have
imagined. I want you to have as much
time as possible to think about what you might want to do (to come or not to). No matter what happens, what events unfold, know
this: I love you tremendously and thank
you once again for your blog and so much more.
I will give Mom, Dad and Larry a big hug from you and confirm that we
hope it will be many, many years indeed before we are all together again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I call as soon as I read this. He is sleeping. I ask Anne to try to read a final email to
him if he awakens: “Lew, I love you. I love you. I love you.
That is all I can give you to take with you. I am so grateful for the love we have shared
over a lifetime and over these last few years but especially these last few
months. You did not run. You did not hide from what was coming. You opened your eyes and your heart to all
around you so they could receive the last and fullest measure of your soul’s gifts. Thank you, my precious brother, thank you! I
am walking with you to the threshold and waving you across. Bob”.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am planning on going anyway, even if he is in his final
sleep. I can support my sister-in-law
and Lew’s grandson, Ben. And maybe Lew
will sense my presence. But this is not
to be. The day before my scheduled departure,
Anne asks that I not come. “The last 2
days on Lew’s downward spiral have been a free fall… So, Bob, since spirit energy knows no time and
space, you are as much with Lew now and he with you, as you could be here. Save yourself and take a walk to Montana de
Oro (the state park with miles of rustic beaches that are special to us) and
visit with Lew there. Coming at this time would be futile...” She wants to devote all her energy to his
final moments. It makes sense to
me. I stay home. The next evening, before I would have
arrived, he is gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is today, too, perhaps a year after coonskin caps. My mother gets a phone call and goes gray in
the face. Lew has had a bad spill from
his bike going down one of our town’s steeper hills. Apparently a dog ran out and startled
him. He is at Overlook Hospital. We rush there. My heart hammers. How hurt is he? I feel my mother’s fear. I see my father grit his teeth. This is the first time in my life that I have
been faced with the possibility one of us could be badly hurt in a
life-changing way, or even killed. I am
shaking inside. I grip my mother’s hand
as we enter the hospital room. At the
same instant, we all connect with Lew’s eyes.
He is sitting up, alert, bruised all over his face and arms but
fine. When he comes home the next day,
he gets to sit out in the side yard on the chaise lounge. His bruises are all dabbed with some kind of
jelly. He looks funny and knows it. Mom and Dad buy him a huge quantity of comic
books. He burns through them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is today. I
think about that moment when we walked into Overlook Hospital. I think how wholly unpredictable and unforeseeable
most of life is. I think about how
little time has passed though the calendar says it is nearly sixty years. I think about how the beaches of Sandy Hook,
New Jersey, were playgrounds and holy places in our childhood. There was one beach where our parents paid a
quarter for us to get on. Then we were
given a small yarn—red, blue, yellow, green, brown, gray, purple—that indicated
we had paid that day. We tied it on our
bathing suits so the lifeguards knew we had paid. I think about how the beaches of California’s
Central Coast have become my holy places in adulthood, and certain beaches in
the Rhode Island and Massachusetts area his…and where his ashes will be
scattered. I think that calendars and
clocks are tricks, illusions. They have
nothing to do with time as the heart knows it.
Time is liquid, not linear. I
need to get some yarn in different colors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">****</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another today. He is
retiring from 36 years of teaching at the University of Massachusetts at
Dartmouth. I ask, “Do you think you’ll
do some part-time teaching?” He answers
rapidly, “No. I’m done. I’ve enjoyed almost every minute of my
career. But I’m done.” I ask, “So what do you want to do?” Again, he answers without hesitation, “Spend
time with Anne, read, lay on the beach.”
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">For the past few years he has been sending me
reading recommendations which we refer to as “Lew’s Book Club.”</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 107%;">He has done enough reading in his academic field.</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 107%;">These are wonderful novels, all the best
contemporary stuff.</span> He and Anne buy a little place to spend their
winters in St. Augustine, Florida. Anne,
r</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">eading, beach (no yarn necessary). All
set up. Perfect. What could go wrong?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">****</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And this is today.
Our father has just died. We take
his ashes to a special beach at Montana de Oro state park here in San Luis
Obispo County, Larry, Lew and myself. We
each pour some in the sea. When Lew
pours, a little wind tosses the ashes in a swirl around him, almost a
caress. Later, at a memorial service, we
all speak some words about our father, the journalist, the lover of words. Lew’s testament: “He was a man in full.” Yes, not a perfect man, not a perfect father,
but a man in full. This day I can say
the same of my brother. He was a man in
full. A rare phenomenon in an angry time
of half-beings. A man in full whose
bravery was met by the brute pain that cancer visits on its victims…and yet, a
man in full to the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another today. Some
kind of sibling rivalry. He is five
years younger than Larry and only two older than I. I guess I am an unwitting usurper, by dint of
my position. So, yes there are
occasional struggles, a rare fist fight when I am six or seven (he wins with a
fist on the top of my head that sends me crying), and some residual resentment
riding into adulthood. But this is generally
not Shakespearean. It’s run-of-the-mill
jealousy, a peevishness that surfaces from time to time. When our father dies, and I begin writing
poetry in earnest for the first time in many years, he is avidly
supportive. He asks, “When are you going
to start doing the thing you were born to do full time?” Meaning, writing. Meaning, specifically, writing poetry. Meaning, life is short. Who cares if you make money at it? Just write.
I am touched by his enthusiasm and it continues and even grows as the
last sheath of sibling rivalry is shucked away by the death of our brother
early in 2004 and our mother in September of the same year. “Write, Bob.
Just write.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And this is today, toward the end of my visit in April of
2013, I am thinking what a good person Lew is.
He has never done any serious hurt to another human being. He is a good man who has shared his joy of teaching
and the French language and its literature with hundreds of students. He has loved his wife, has been more a father
to his adopted sons than their own, more a father to his grandson than his
own. There is no rhyme or reason to why
this person gets cancer, or that person dies of a sudden heart attack or another
person lives to 95 after being a royal prick most of his life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is a thought today.
It may be true that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same
time, but that is not the case with memory.
All these moments, thoughts and feelings exist simultaneously within
me. As I said, time is liquid, not
linear. It has depth and breadth, current and cross-current. Conflicting truths
flow together, forming something unforeseen in a new kind of present tense. We are a family of five <i>and</i> yet now we are one. “We
thought we’d be boys forever…” So I wrote
in a poem after Larry’s death and it is still true. We are boys forever. The sandbox will always contain us, the pine
limbs bear our weight. Yet, we are also
reduced to one now…one person to hold the elixir of memory for an entire family. One person to carry the love and the loss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another today. I am
in my late twenties. I write Lew and ask
him to share his sweetest memories of our childhood together. The first thing he offers is the two of us on
all fours as little boys, probably three and five, playing animals under the
dining room table. I am so grateful for
this, for it has left my own ready-</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">recall file, but the moment I read it, the
memories come back in detail.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">More than sixty years later, in this today, I realize he has
always been there, for I was the youngest.
They were all there, always—Mom, Dad, Larry and Lew, each pouring their
own rich memories into the chalice, many of which I could never have reclaimed
on my own. I have never known life
without at least one of them being at the end of a phone call or email. But Lew is gone and I now know life alone,
life void of contribution. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> As I try to
understand why the bond is so strong, the grief so deep, I return to that space
between the four legs of our dining room table, a table that protected us like
a mother elephant, and those moments when we crawled around making animal
sounds, so close to each other that his particular five-year old boy smell wrote
its verse in me, and the feeling when our bodies would bump against each other,
and the sound of his breathing and his voice as it manifested growls, purrs,
howls, barks and trumpeting—verse after verse. We knew each other only as little brothers can
in the dawn light of life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was a unique bond.
We were animals together, slept in the same room, knew that we came from
the same people, looked up to the same faces, loved the same voices, rode the
same hips and shoulders and were looked after by the same oldest brother. We ran through the same storm door into the
winter snows where snowmen, snow angels and sleds were the kings, queens and
royal carriages of our little land, a land where together we discovered the
neighborhood and friends, games and rituals, hiding places, magical trees,
swinging vines and outcroppings of ancient faces. We also ran through the same screen door into
the bright summer air to dash through backyards and front, ride bikes, throw and
kick balls, climb fences and trees, explore brooks and catch lightning bugs.
And on trips to our grandpa’s, we tanned nut-brown like twins under the same sun
on the same sand and in the same Atlantic waves. There was only one person on earth right
beside me from the beginning, each of us making our own marks on our lives’
first pages of poetry--my brother, Lew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No words or deeds can fully honor my love for him. But I am heading to the beach today…and I
have yarn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">C 2013 Bob Kamm</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-20463388449977529792013-05-01T06:34:00.000-07:002013-07-10T13:04:03.707-07:00My Brother Lew Has Cancer<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">for Lew</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My brother Lew has cancer.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He is diagnosed early in 2011 at sixty-six. He has
just spent a few weeks on the beach in Florida to get away from the New England
winter. Wonderful trip. Then, suddenly, after returning to Rhode
Island his left leg begins to swell.
What could it be? A spider
bite? Some weird allergic reaction? An infection? A series of doctor visits and scans, from the
local hospital to Massachusetts General and then the diagnosis. Metastatic carcinoma of unknown origin. It has probably been growing undetected for a
year. They don’t know where it started
in his body. Along with the
multisyllabic diagnoses come multisyllabic drugs of, well, to us, unknown
origin—xeloda , cisplatin, carboplatin, gemcitabine, taxol, pemetrexed,
vinorelbine. The names do not roll off
the tongue. They represent a new
language to be mastered. For all their
strangeness, they might as well be the names of half-human, half-insect kings from
the other side of the universe. I feel
as though I have razor blades in my mouth every time I try to say one of
them. There is, early on, also the
possibility of multiple surgeries with “ectomy” at the end of each one…meaning
cut it out. Remove this. Remove that.
Ironically, when a scan reveals microscopic signs of cancer in other
areas of the body, the surgeries are ruled out.
They won’t give him the supposed quality of life they are intended to
give. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My brother Lew has cancer.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He is twenty-seven months older than I am. We have always said it that way in our
family, from the time we are kids. Not
“roughly two years older”. Not “two years
and three months older.” Twenty-seven
months. There is a certain love of
precision in our blood, when it comes to some things. Now that precision has brought us perilously
close in a way we never imagined.
Twenty-seven months apart. One of
us has cancer. The other doesn’t. But now <i>I</i>
am sixty-six. Could I be next? Only a pathological optimist would fail to
wonder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m seven years old.
My father is a writer. I am going
to be a writer. My first undertaking is
a novel called “Little Lewie”. My older brother
Lew is the hero. He is twenty-seven
months older than I am. Actually, he is
twenty-six months and three weeks older.
I have just figured this out, at seven.
Precision is important. But I’ve learned you can round up and still be considered
precise. Lew is my hero in my first book
because he is my older brother and I love him.
Even though we are close in age.
Even though there is some strange energy between us sometimes. I later learn it is called “sibling
rivalry.” I do not have this with Larry,
who is seven years older. He is an
island apart. His thoughts and feelings
are beyond us. Seven years is forever,
especially when you’re seven. But
whatever that energy is that I will later learn to call rivalry, there is
something else far more powerful. I love
my brother. I think he is really, really
neat. My parents love him, too. They
think he is really neat. I love how they
love him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I type my story on my father’s yellow copy paper, commonly
used at newspapers these days, something that will vanish in about five decades
as computers take over. But right now,
this yellow paper is my parchment, my holy scroll. I type only short paragraphs. I have to push hard, one finger at a time, on
the keys of my father’s massive Royal typewriter. Then I draw pictures on each page. It’s a basketball story. Heroism on the court. Little Lewie is, well, little, but he can
really move and shoot. I start with stick figures, then draw the flesh around
them and erase the stick lines or shade over them, stretched out on my stomach
in the grass under the dogwood tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My brother Lew has cancer.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s now two years downstream from the moment of
diagnosis. The moment when a doctor
says, “You have cancer.” The moment when
only you can know what it feels like to be the “you” in that sentence. Lew is
beating the survival odds. He is in the
one tenth of one percent category. But
he still has cancer. There has been no
surgery, other than an arduous initial one to get a biopsy. So he has all his organs. He is a whole person, but his body is gradually
experiencing the insurrection of rebel cells.
First radiation and then chemo have become part of the daily
experience. This is my second visit from
across the country. The first was this
time a year ago. His left leg was
swollen to about two and a-half times the normal size. The initial tumor is in
his left hip, inoperably surrounding the femoral artery. Still, during the first visit he is in what
our father often referred to as “fine fettle,” all things considered. (That phrase, “all things considered” has
taken on a whole different meaning. ) He
wears a compression stocking which is hard to get on and off. The swelling is due to what is called
lymphedema. Still, he is able to drive
and insists on taking me all around the area where he has lived for nearly
forty years…and which I have never visited in all that time. He takes me to the campus at University of
Massachusetts at Dartmouth where he won eight national awards for being one
terrific French professor and from which
he has just recently retired. The campus
is an impressive collection of massive concrete rectangles and open
walkways. I can imagine him in a lecture
hall. I can imagine him being stopped by
a student with a question as he makes his way from one building to
another. I can imagine the respect, even
adoration in his eyes. I don’t have to
see him lecture to know he is capable of spellbinding lectures of the richest
kind. He takes me all around the Rhode
Island-Massachusetts boundary zone. We
drive across big metal bridges and onto low rocky beaches. He shares memory upon memory, forty years of
life I have missed being in California. He takes me to the whaling museum and the
church across the street where whalers worshipped before going out into the big
sea after behemoths, the church Melville mentions in Moby Dick. He takes me to a number of his favorite lunch
places including the Inn at Castle Hill, a grand old building sitting on a hill
above a bay. It looks like something out
of The Great Gatsby. A broad lawn runs
from the Inn down to the water. There
are lines of bright, empty white Adirondack chairs. It’s still spring. The wind has a chill. No one will sit in them for a while.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My brother Lew has cancer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I keep saying it, thinking that maybe it will fully sink in
if I do. Because it hasn’t. It feels as if we are in an alternate
universe. If we just find a window we
can wriggle through, we can get back to the one where he is enjoying his
retirement, cancer free. We lost dad in
02 at eighty-five. We lost Larry in 04
at sixty-four. For the first time in our
lives, we are both older than our oldest brother. We lost Mom later in 04. Now it’s Lew and me and we are dealing with
this demon again. I’m looking for that
window. If we can only wriggle through…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The second visit.
This morning Lew is seated in the large reclining chemo chair at St.
Anne’s Oncology Hospital in Fall River, just over the line in Massachusetts. For two years, there has been nothing in his
lungs but small dots. Now, suddenly, a
golf ball-sized mass in the lower left lung.
How does this happen in only a short time between scans? The demon. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lew is holding his shirt above his chest as he did when he was a kid to show
our mother his chicken pox. This time, it is so the nurse can slip a needle
that looks like a kitten’s claw into the port that has been installed just
below the skin above his right pectoral muscle.
I ask if it hurts. He says, “Yes,
but just temporarily—a pin prick.” The
nurse adds, “We are penetrating just a little skin.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fifteen minutes earlier, we are with his oncologist, Nancy, a
woman in her late thirties, who talks to him as if he might be an old boyfriend
from high school. She is sweet, but she
is also very direct and thorough. Lew
has a lot of questions. He knows he is
at the stage where the hope for any kind of enduring remission is a
slim-to-none possibility. He wants to
know what the end is like. When he can’t
handle the pain any more, or when it’s too much labor to breathe, will they put
him on a drip? No, the doctor tells him,
we rarely use drips any more. The
necessary pain meds are delivered orally in pill form, slipped under the
tongue. He’s surprised but I tell him Mom was given morphine pills, under the
tongue. The doctor confirms. Under the tongue. The same tongue he stuck out at me when we
were kids to make brilliantly outrageous faces.
The same tongue he stuck out for the doctor who examined him for
tonsillitis. The same tongue that helped
him articulate millions of words as he lectured and coached university students
for thirty six years. The same tongue
that he no doubt shared in the ecstatic clutch of love with his wife of forty
years. Now, the tongue that will be the
mail box for pain suppression until there are no more funny faces possible, no
more words, no more love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A lot of us say we want to live to be a hundred…or
more. We don’t think about the potential
dark side of that wish. My mother lived
to bury her first born child when he was only sixty-four. Had my father not died two years earlier,
he’d have been broken by Larry’s death.
Were he alive today, he’d be ninety-five. If he knew his second son was unlikely to
make it out of his sixties, he’d have gone from broken to pulverized. My mother would have been crushed beside
him. People say they want the power to
see the future. They could get rich
betting on the Kentucky Derby and Superbowl, knowing the outcomes. And they
could get paralyzed foreseeing the coming calamities. We all signed the lease of life without the
term being filled in. It’s an act of
faith. Without the ignorance of what is
in store for us, it isn’t living.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lew looks at the doctor straight on as she tells him that
the recent onset of fatigue is the cancer, not the fentanyl patch, not the
dilaudid, not the high doses of ibuprofen.
That’s why we’re trying this new chemo, docetaxel, to get you some
energy back. To give you some good
days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He tells her, he has shared with me that he doesn’t ex</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">pect
to see his 69</span><sup style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> birthday seven months away.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She looks right at him.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We know where this is going, she says.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She doesn’t confirm the timeline, but the
direction and the gist.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am struck by
how present she is, how honest, how empathetic without being unctuous.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is her everyday life, I guess.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She is here to help people live a little
longer and then leave comfortably.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lew
seems grateful for her honesty.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He is
beyond struggling.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He doesn’t hit her
with twenty “what if’s”.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I ask Lew if he is afraid.
No. I ask him if he is
angry. No. He has told me in detail about his belief in
reincarnation. He is sure he has been
here before and will be again. He sees
no tragedy, just some disappointment. “I
thought I had more time. I ask if he
feels sadness at times. Yes. Sadness.
For Anne, for his grandson, Ben, whom he has raised as his son for his
two sons, Tommy and Jeffrey and their partners, Jackie and Tina. He knows they are bound to him. They’ll “be okay” whatever that means. In that okayness, they will miss him
terribly. They will hurt for a long
time. But Lew has accepted he doesn’t
have long. His stoicism comes straight
from our mother. Certainly not Dad. Though he was calm and accepting when his
time came, Dad was eighty-five. Had this
happened to him at such a young age, he’d have been mightily angry, and
mightily depressed. I am more like him
but Lew’s calm reaches me. Besides, we
are both old enough to stop asking why bad things happen to good people, and
good things to bad. As one of the mantra’s
of our age says<i>: It is what it is.</i> But Lew does have a new mantra, a surprising
one. Several times a day he sighs from
fatigue and/or pain, quietly uttering the old Yiddish expression, “Oy vey”. It means, “Oh, where?” as in “Oh, where am
I?” Funny that a people should develop
that habit of asking, “Where am I?” when they are hurting. Ironic, since we have never been very
religious or even ethnic. I doubt Lew
has been in a synagogue in decades.
Still, the words we heard from our grandparents and on occasion, our
father, seem to say it best right now.
“Where am I?” Am I still here
where I get to be the person I have always been? Or am I now somehow in a different place, in
an alternate universe where weird multisyllabic kings dictate who I am and what
I can do? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The docetaxel is dripping into him. He is in no pain. He rests with his eyes closed, turned on his
right hip. A new nurse shows up,
crouches down in his direct line of sight, touches him gently. He opens his eyes. “Jan!”
They hug and hold each other as dearly as lifelong friends. “I’ve missed you!” he says. She returns the feeling. She was his first oncology nurse. They got close. She got transferred to another unit. She heard he was asking for her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The hugs, the deep direct gazes. These people are either brilliantly trained
or just brilliantly attuned (or both).
Why don’t we all look at each other this way every day? Why do we wait for cancer to make gazing a
true communion?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At least four different nurses interact with Lew and at some
point, each one of them does a double take when they look at me. Then, it’s either the straightforward, “You
must be Lew’s brother!” or the teasing, “You can’t be Lew’s brother!” Do we really look that alike? Of course, we are family. We have the same skin tone, high foreheads,
the barest thatch left on top, similar hands…but aren’t our noses, even though
they’re both prominent, actually quite different? Our mouths?
The overall configuration of our heads?
Have we missed something, something that is both physical and sacred
that is obvious to others…something that is the essence of what it means to be
brothers?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">During my visit, I have a series of dreams: I am in a strange landscape…vertiginous
cliffs, massive tsunamis, buses swept away filled with children, entire cruise
boats disappearing into the valleys of wave mountains. I do not recognize any place or any one. I keep asking, “Where am I?” “What is this place?” “How will I ever get home?” I wake up, heart pounding…not racing, probably
not above 65, but pounding all the way to my ankles. Maybe high blood pressure is generally a
silent killer, but at this moment, it is loud and clear. In another dream, I am told by a grizzled old
man that I must follow the rules. I
object. “I have been self-employed a
long time. I don’t follow your
rules. I follow mine!” He points to pictures of my parents, Larry,
Lew. I wake up, again, heart slamming
into my chest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m at Tom’s Market in Tiverton, RI. I have a list from both Lew and Anne. I’m only here for three days but this is one
thing I can do. I can take a few tasks
off Anne’s plate. I can ask someone
where the summer sausage is, where the prunes are, whether or not they have some
of Lew’s favorites. I can also walk the
dog, Magnet, a 52 pound muscular chunk of Australian herder. He has spent hours laying on the bed next to
Lew, sleeping, but he is young and born to run.
I can also show Anne how to use the Jack LaLanne Juicer. She’s not a tech person. We put the juicer together and throw in some
carrots, cumber, celery, apple. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lew has no quandary over the meaning of life. His time has been beautiful and rich. You have touched so many, I say. Think of all those students who love
you. Think of the teachers who moved
you. Teachers never know the expanses of
time and terrain their teachings will cross…but they travel. Your teachings have wings. People a half a world away at this moment
might be talking about their time in one of your classes. He smiles at the thought. And think of the durability of those
contributions as they move from life to life, without anyone even knowing their
point of origin was a lecture you gave.
If you are right, Lew, if reincarnation is real and there is an upward
progression to greater and greater consciousness and goodness, think of what
might be next after a life as rich as this one.
The word “Wow!” would be appropriate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He is laying on his bed talking about the final
arrangements. He has written his own
obit, as he calls it. He doesn’t want
Anne to worry about it and he certainly doesn’t want someone who never really
knew him slapping it together. He will
be cremated. There will be no memorial service
because he doesn’t need it, nor does Anne.
They know who they have been to each other. All these years, he has had a nickname for
her, a term of endearment in French.
Perfect, because she was also a French teacher. Perfect because uttering
it was a daily gift. Perfect because it
implied both heaven and earth, defying and submitting to gravity. Perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am sitting outside on the front steps of his house while
he naps inside. I notice the Japanese
cherry tree in full bloom a few feet away.
Further down the lawn, the dogwood’s flowers are just emerging from
their own buds and still cherry colored themselves. On the other side of the lawn, a forty foot
high maple is beginning to leaf. I
remember our childhood yard. We had a
Japanese cherry. We had a dogwood under
which I wrote and drew about the heroic exploits of Little Lewie. We also had a maple from which we took the
wing-like seeds, split them and stuck them on our noses. Is this coincidence? Accidental poetry? Is it our mother and father’s hands reaching
beyond the grave to shape our choices?
Is it proof of the themes that move with us from one life to the
next? Is it a montage of more images
from mirrors within mirrors and windows with a little wriggle room?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My brother Lew has cancer.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is tempting to think of the situation as a battle. So many people do. We can say that cancer is The Claw and The
Fist and Lew and all those helping him are Tookie. But the war metaphor doesn’t seem accurate. In the war metaphor, if a person dies, then
he has lost. He is a loser. But in my brother, I do not see a loser. I see courage. I see curiosity. I see concern and gratitude and love. A person can die badly or well. My father, my mother and my oldest brother,
Larry died well, with surprising clarity.
To die well is not a loss. It is
not a victory. It is a beautiful gift to
both yourself and those who love you. It
has so many layers and colors and movements.
It is music, art and poetry in one final act. That is what I am thinking, sitting on the
edge of my bed in the dark, as he sleeps in the room below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have to leave early.
Lew is still sleeping. Anne comes
out to say goodbye. We kiss and go to
hug and have one of those moments that could be awkward but turns out to be
funny and dear…we both move to put our heads on the same side. We haven’t hugged enough to have it
down. We will no doubt be doing a lot
more. We’ll get good at it. She encourages me to go into the
bedroom. Lew is turned on his right hip,
curled up, looking to me about eight years old.
I lean over and kiss him on the forehead and say, “I love you.” He wakes up and thanks me again for coming
and says we’ll talk soon. I realize on
the way to the airport that he didn’t have his hearing aid in. He didn’t hear me say I love you. I will say it again and again between now and
“We know where this is going.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On my way home, in the airport men’s room, I catch a
sideways glimpse of myself in the mirror.
For a second, I think I am looking at Lew. This happens more and more lately. I catch a glimpse in a car or shop window and
see my father or our older brother, Larry, or Lew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am me and not me. I
carry the family with me. Even my mother
shows up in the mirror from time to time.
Is this a resonance from my
earliest days when I struggled as the youngest to enter into the sphere of
everyday exchanges? Do I carry a primal
uncertainty about who I am; or being the youngest, am I designated to carry the
memories, the images, the family history, the endlessly rearranging montage of
who we were and might have been? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over Arizona, the red landscape, the edge of the Grand
Canyon, areas blackened by the shadows of clouds. It looks like a cancerous lung to me now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As little kids, Lew and I share a bedroom. When Mom and Dad have said good night and
gone downstairs out of earshot, Lew brings out the flashlight he has been
hiding under his pillow. The show
begins. He projects shadow characters on
the ceiling with his hand. There is The Fist. There is The Claw. These are not good guys. But then, there is Tookie. Tookie is the shadow of two fingers. Tookie is our hero. He leads us through endless adventures. We lie with our eyes fixed on the
ceiling. I’m sure Lew doesn’t know from
one moment to the next what his characters are going to do. They take on a life of their own. Somehow, with the exploits of The Claw and
The Fist being played out above us each night, the daytime reports of “scary”
Russians and Chinese and nuclear bombs from which we are drilled to hide under
our desks at school are not so scary. We
have Tookie on our side. Tookie will
keep us safe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another clear set of memories. As kids, we say, “I love you,” all the time. Mostly to Mom and Dad…and they to us. I love you Mommy. I love you Daddy. I love you Bobby, Lew, Larry. Then, somewhere along the way as our ages
require two numbers, it stops. Years
later, when Dad is dying, then Larry, then Mom, those words come back to
us. Not as musical little toss-offs but definitive
statements we enter, tentatively at first, but then with full ownership. It’s as if we lost love’s seeds for years and
ultimately found them in the bottoms of our pockets where they’d been waiting
all along to be taken out one by one, delicately, between finger and thumb, to
plant in each other’s hearts. We were
gardeners as children. We learned it
from our parents. Then lost it…then
found it again, thank God, in time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love you Mom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love you Dad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love you Larry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love you Lew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love you Tookie. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I see you, even in the dark…especially in the dark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I see you gazing back at me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> in true communion.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">C 2013 Bob Kamm</span></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-37474790134125748882013-04-06T16:08:00.000-07:002013-04-06T16:08:52.864-07:00Winning and Losing in Love Relatiionships, Part II<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What an irony that we spend so much
of our lives longing for our “soul-mate” and then, when we find him/her, it
doesn’t take long before we begin finding fault and treating our partner as if
he/she is our competitor rather than our teammate. This is inevitable. Once the romantic period is over, our deeper
psychological dynamics from our early years reassert themselves. Unfortunately, there is no short-cut for
eliminating the powerful impulse to make our partner wrong and ourselves right. Its roots are tenacious. Being “wrong” as a child has such hurtful
consequences, we quickly learn to be “right” or at least avoid being “wrong” in
our parents’ eyes. The speed with which
we as adults throw up defensive arrays of verbal and behavioral countermeasures,
speak to the fact that we each grow up experiencing thousands of interactions
with our caregivers that follow certain patterns because our caregivers have
their own deeply grooved ways of being. Look, I loved my parents and they loved
me…and, like all of us parents, they were far from perfect. My mother had a subtle way of shaming me when
I made a mistake, did something outside her wishes or exhibited feelings that
caused her discomfort. My father resorted to teasing and
sarcasm. Both of them occasionally
engaged in frightening outbursts of anger along with swatting the back of my
head or my butt. No doubt, many of us go
through memorable moments of big, visible trauma. But the idea that we <i>all </i>suffer them, and that they are the principle cause of
distortion in our development is probably over-emphasized. However, what is true for nearly all of us is
that we are immersed in family cultures as children that have their own strong
color schemes, as mine did. That scheme
is quickly absorbed into our cells. We
are “stained” into adaptive responses by the sheer volume and force of
interactions and our powerful need to be safe and belong. We
accommodate because we actually are dependent as children. The simple ability to feel and express those
feelings clearly is often a casualty of this process. Consequently, as adults, anytime we sense
“wrongness” coming our way, we mobilize against it and the hurt it unconsciously
summons from those early years. You
could say our defenses are psychological white blood cells trying to kill an
infection. The density and vigor of that
counter-attack is one measure of the force of early messages. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> If as adults we could just release the “fight
to be right” by thinking our way out of it (using solely a cognitive approach)
the world would already be a much calmer and more harmonious place. Taking on a new thought is relatively
easy. Changing our ways of reacting
emotionally and behaviorally is a much tougher undertaking. For the most part, we humans are not run by
cognitive, logical and linear processes. Daniel Kahneman won the Nobel Prize
documenting this in a field as seemingly logical as economics. The evidence is overwhelming that no quick and
easy fix exists. Sports metaphors such
as I cited in Part I, can be seductive for their simplicity. In basketball,
there is a play called a “kick-out”. The
ball-handler drives toward the basket hard as if he’s going to shoot. The defense “collapses” in around him, leaving
other shooters free on the perimeter.
The ball handler now reins in his desire to go for the two-point dunk
and instead passes the ball out to one of his teammates who is free of
defenders and has a clear shot at a three-pointer. Now imagine yourself driving hard toward the
idea that you have to be right in a given moment. And imagine that just as you are ready to
hammer home your point and make your partner wrong, ripping at the flesh of
your relationship, instead, you kick-out…releasing the need to be right and
refusing to engage in that struggle.
When you push less to be right, your partner has to push less, too, and
perhaps, with a little luck, you both let the issue go, realizing that the
energy beneath it is from the past and the consequences in the present are
relatively minor and quite workable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
It’s good to remember the “kick-out” option. It’s one of those touchstone ideas that might
help you let go once in a while. But
most of us know that once we’re triggered into “fighting to be right” it is
very difficult to just switch off that energy, which derives from our survival
endowments channeled through the family landscape. For real healing, there’s no avoiding the
depths. Long before modern psychology,
philosophers, religious figures, poets and story-tellers have had implicit
knowledge of this. Fairy-tales and contemporary
literature attest to the real “threat” hiding in the shadows, in the cellar or
attic, in an old house, at the bottom of a lake, the top of the beanstalk, in a cave, under a bridge, or close to natural
forces such as volcanoes, dark forests, the untamed sea. Unconsciously, the entire human race knows
where the nemesis hides. However, only a
small percentage of us appear to be explicitly conscious of it. The birth of
deception is self-deception. For those
of us trying to transcend early destiny, we know a great initiation is
unavoidable. We know the “monsters” born in those tender years when our brains
were not fully developed must be defrocked of fiction till the bare truth is
before us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We can do this. Now we are adults. Our brains <i>are</i> fully developed (finally, by around age 25!) so we have the resources to experience fully what
was held in a kind of cryogenic freeze within us because it was overwhelming
for our tender, underdeveloped brains and beings. As Tara Brach has pointed out in a recent
article in <i>Psychotherapy Networker</i>, C.G.
Jung referred to this unprocessed pain of childhood as <i>unlived life</i>. He urged us to
be courageous and live out that unlived life so that we can integrate it and
move on. He is exhorting us to a hero’s
journey. The irony and the great challenge
are that we are wired to avoid the lairs of predators and the pain and fear they
cause. However, and this is key, <i>if the pain and fear are already in us</i>,
avoiding them means accepting that we are divided selves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How can we heal a sundered inner
world? By surrendering to what the
Persian poet Rumi referred to as “the pearls of God,” meaning tears. Our unshed tears from those early events are
the waters of unlived life, held like crystals in caves high and low along the
fault lines of the soul. Their resolving
force awaits us, awaits the moment when we are ready to transform them from
solid back into liquid for the ride up and out of their subterranean holds into
daylight. Without this liberating adventure, the division <i>within</i> us as individuals will become a division <i>between</i> us and our partners. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because this work is indispensable
to releasing psychological energy and literally rewiring the basis of personality, the Imago Dialogues embody, for
couples, the essential wisdoms and practices.
Developed by Harville Hendrix and Helen La Kelly Hunt, the Dialogues are
arenas that invite the emergence of the heroes hiding within us. They are crucibles for grieving and
empathy. When, in dialogue, we get
beneath an issue in the present and visit the subterranean depths of our own
divided inner world as it was wrought in our early years, we ride unshed tears
into the sun. Suddenly, our partner is
no longer a competitor with whom we must struggle to make our own needs
dominant. He or she is a witness to our
life. So touching is this moment, and neurologically
dynamic, that it leads directly to a releasing of clenched fists on the weaponry
of winning without any admonition to do so--we by living out the unlived grief,
our partner through the experience of profound empathy. Grieving and empathy are the two great
resolving alchemies of human life. By
taking turns as griever and witness over months and years, we emerge into daylight
over and over again until the shadows recede and we own the day, together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-78891762601127392052013-03-29T11:05:00.001-07:002013-03-30T08:45:52.665-07:00Winning and Losing in Love Relationships<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time we reach adulthood, most of us have participated in some form of team--athletic, social, religious or work. We have been exposed to people who place their own ego's above</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the success of the team. Probably the easiest example to consider comes from a sports team.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Think of an athlete, man or woman, who has great stats game after game. Now imagine that in spite of their performance (or more likely, because of it!) the team loses game after game.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Would any of us, with the perspective of adulthood, call that person a success? Unlikely. We might marvel at his or her persistence and talent. We might also think of him/her as "a ball hog"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or selfish. Does any of us believe that Kobe Bryant or Mia Hamm would consider themselves successful if they hadn't won championships? A no-brainer, right? But here's the thing. A love relationship is a team of two. It calls for an even greater commitment to collaboration than other teams because our hearts are so fully engaged. We are more vulnerable on the "love team" and our childhood hurts are so much more likely to be triggered. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the core question is the same as on a sports team: <i>are you a team player or a ball hog? </i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do you push for your own victories over your partner as if they were actually the other team...or are you capable of letting go of the need to win in order to serve the greater good of the relationship? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We know what the answer is for most of us much of the time. We have a hard time letting go</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of having our way or being right. Why? Because being wrong has such powerful resonance during our early years. When we are little, we need to be attached to our parents. It is not a desire. It is a biologically written need whose goal is to serve our survival and optimal development. Far too often, when parents correct children they come down hard. They forget they're dealing with a small fragile being whose brain is nowhere near fully developed. As children, we immediately fear the loss of love, which is potentially catastrophic for such a genuinely dependent being. Since our parents tend to react to us in fairly consistent ways, we develop a pattern of adaptations to those moments. We try hard to be right, to be on their good side. Some of us fight for it, meaning we cry, flail, object, blame someone or try to talk our way out of a situation. Some of us flee, meaning we hide within ourselves and physically withdraw from our parents. Some of us freeze in the moment, become paralyzed and speechless. Some of us discover it is safer to just submit. In all these cases, we are feeling a great deal of discomfort because the withdrawal of parental love, even for seconds at a time, is so potentially devastating. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fast forward to adulthood and you find yourself and your partner having a difficult time allowing the other to be right. On an unconscious psychological level, the dynamic is, "If you are right, I am wrong. If I am right, you are wrong. Whoever is wrong is going to feel bad. Someone is coming out as the parent and someone the child." It's a zero-sum game that parallels the childhood pattern when parents had all the power and we needed them with all our hearts. So here we are in our twenties, thirties, forties and on, being ball hogs in our relationship so we can avoid </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">feeling that feeling. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of course, we don't live with a coach in our home to help us run better plays. We don't have crowds cheering us when we serve the team. But we can gradually learn to get in touch with the deeper feeling that drives this reaction, grieve it and be liberated from the impulse that drives us to create win-lose. We can do some of this work when we are single, but the deepest work comes when we are in a relationship for there are wounds that are only triggered and therefore available to work on when we actively seek to be in loving connection with another.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We are strange creatures, aren't we? We long for love. Then, when we find it (after the </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">romantic phase is over) we treat our partner as if he/she is the competition, not a teammate! We have to defeat the very person who might love us...for fear of feeling unloved. Once again we see </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">how early patterns can hijack the present and deprive us of the thing we cherish most.</span>Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-33145623044176432512013-02-11T09:17:00.001-08:002013-02-11T09:22:02.286-08:00Losing Phil Smart, Sr--a Eulogy<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My dear friend, Phil Smart, Sr, the sage of Seattle, died
over the weekend. He was 93. When we lose someone close, we are prompted to ask, “How do
we measure the value of a life?” </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The easy answer would be, “We measure a life by how much
good a person did in the world.” </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">By that measure, Phil’s life had exceptional value. For twenty-six years, he was Santa Claus to </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">the young patients at Seattle Children’s Hospital, to whom
he referred as the “angels among us.” He
gave innumerable speeches to tens of thousands of people exhorting them to use
the “third eight” hours of their day beyond sleep and work to do some good for
others. He gave ridiculous amounts of
money away to right causes. He was an
exemplary automobile dealer, as is his son, Phil, Jr, in a business that does
not boast many exemplars. And, of
course, he was a veteran of WWII who actively continued to honor veterans of
all wars in any way that he could. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">These and many other notable accomplishments have been and
will be cited by those who will eulogize him.
I only knew him from 1995 when he was 75, till the present, less than
20% of his life so I am not the most qualified person to list all the good he
did in the world. But it was my
privilege and joy to spend many hours over those eighteen years sitting in his
office at Phil Smart Mercedes-Benz at 600 East Pike Street chatting about
business, family, philanthropy, war, politics and love. His eyes were always bright and engaged and
continued to be as he passed into his nineties.
He was a master storyteller whether sharing something seemingly mundane about home life, a vignette from his childhood, an authentic drama from the war or the miracles he had experienced at Children's Hospital. He loved to talk about his faith, pointing often to the
collection of feathers he had found one at a time and kept as a sign of angels
at work. He loved to walk through the
dealership and check in with the team (he knew everyone’s first name) to see
how they were doing personally and professionally, through good years and
lean. A moment with Phil lifted the
heart. He continued to do this long
after he had sold the business to his son, understanding that he was a key
spiritual force in helping Phil, Jr, to
keep the sense of family, style and commitment to do the right thing as alive
as possible in each person who called 600 East Pike his or her work home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I have no doubt that using the usual measure of a life,
Phil’s was both beautiful and very, very good. But I have another measure of life that occurred to me when
I heard that he had left us. I knew he
was well past his ninety-third birthday. I knew he was ailing. I had watched over the
years as frailty gradually settled in him. I knew he had already lived a superb life, a
life to be envied and emulated for its vitality and generosity right to the
end. It shouldn’t have been a shock when
my good friend, Don Stevens, a long-time Smart leader, told me he was
gone. But it was. And it is.
I felt as if I’d taken a punch to the gut. The wind went out of me. My knees felt weak. I had to sit down. It seemed like a large rip had opened in the
fabric of reality and something of rare value had been stolen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So for me, this is the measure of a life—do people feel like
they’ve had the wind knocked out of them? Does the world tilt and spin as if its sense of true north
has been shaken? I have no doubt that
thousands of people in the city of Seattle know exactly what I’m talking about,
and many others across the country. I
contemplate a world without him with a mixture of visceral sadness and profound
appreciation…and am moved to say, “Thank you, Phil. Thank you for all that you shared, all that
you gave, all that you exemplified.
Thank you for your life.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We will all reclaim our breath. That’s what he would want. We will walk with more determination in our
stride and when memories of Phil visit us, which they will often, we will
salute or nod or doff our hats and then shift eyes forward to the next opportunity
to do some good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">C 2013 Bob Kamm</span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-7104368600132240752013-01-01T10:44:00.000-08:002013-01-01T11:11:27.778-08:00In the Beginning and Still...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
After decades of scratching and tapping<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
letters on paper<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
and
launching verses <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
from
lips<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
and listening in the night<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
for the infinite magical<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
combinations<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
of which the human vocal chords,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
jaw, teeth and
face are capable, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the poet finally enters <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the central holy ground<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
of language<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
understanding<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that in the beginning<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
there most assuredly<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>was </i>the word<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and the
word really <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
was <i>with</i> God<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and the
word actually <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>was </i>God and <i>is </i>God.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It doesn’t matter what name, gender or genders<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
we give the Creative Force<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--Yahweh,
Vishnu, Allah, Jesus, Nature, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
even Laws of the Universe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Truth
is truth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the Truth is<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
everything is comprised<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
not of zeroes and one’s <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
as the young masters of technology<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
would have it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
or<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
neutrinos, quarks<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
protons, bosons<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
and such <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as
the old masters of physics<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
would have it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but of vowels, consonants, clicks, pops,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
syllables,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
sibilance’s, suspirations, gutturals,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
glottal
stops,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
and<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
all the permutational possibilities<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
of syntax and
grammar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These make up the essence of<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
all things,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
the irreducible<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
tightly wound subatomic <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
scrolls of sound <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
rolling
out of<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the dark
seeds<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of the
universe<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
into <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
time, space and
matter<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--God’s original tongue<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
made manifest<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
everywhere <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
at once.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There may have been a beginning<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
but there will never be an end<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
because long after<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
man has come and gone<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
spewing
a language<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that
has spiraled<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
further
and further <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
from the first vocabulary<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God will still be speaking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So now the poet<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
knows for certain<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
the answer<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
to the age old<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tree-in-the-forest<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
conundrum.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If a tree falls in the forest<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and no
human ear is present<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
there <i>will </i>be a
sound<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
because the tree itself is a living tower of words<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
just as its tumble<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
is a cataclysmic
poem,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the leaf shower, the
bird scatter<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the
tearing of the forest’s flesh<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--all part of a
great epic <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
whose
every utterance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
God <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
is speaking,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God
is hearing<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
until<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
silence<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
and rest<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
and the next <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
ecstatic rush.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">C 2012 Bob Kamm</span></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-59250265116393081972012-11-15T08:16:00.000-08:002012-11-23T11:11:26.983-08:00A Poem of Thanksgiving<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 196.35pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">A Poem of Thanksgiving </span></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 196.35pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By Bob Kamm<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">Inspired by</span></i><span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">elder
Gerry Oleman <o:p></o:p></i></span></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">of the Coast Salish People of British Columbia<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">during his welcoming remarks at the 9<sup>th</sup>
Annual Imago Conference in Vancouver, BC<o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long before us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>skies<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sun and moon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>oceans <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>deserts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">forests<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>meadows<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mountains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long before us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">eagle<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and all that lived beneath her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long before us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>rain
tapping on the beetle’s back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long before us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">reflections in pools
of quiet creeks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">flowing and
frozen,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> reflections of overhanging
trees, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">the movement of
light on berries, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">the
faces of buck, doe and fawn,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>raccoon, wolf, cougar,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ovenbird rocking on twig,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">the
tightening of night’s grasp<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on trunks and rocks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But no images<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>of
human face<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not one<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">not in puddle or
pond<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not in the hand mirrors of ice-clad leaves,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not even in the eye of predator
or prey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long before us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>beings of all kinds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>writing their exquisite <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and desperate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>life stories <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">on
pages of earth, air, water, bark and stone,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">leaving behind few traces<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">-- faint echoes
broken by wind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not for us the great awakening of
life<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">but each life for itself <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and the shimmering whole<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and the joy and
sadness <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">of The Mother and Father of All
Things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Mother and Father of All
Things<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">who through their <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">restless risky
dance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>made the universe <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from a solitary seed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">-the seed of all seeds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">all beings<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">all
things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are here now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Though we strut about<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">proud parrots,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">we are small.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are late-comers to the
festival.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We still don’t know the dances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If we are honest<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">we must wonder<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">if The Mother and Father of All
Things<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">for a single
moment<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">in the reckless ecstasy of
creativity<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">imagined<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">we would become so discontent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">with the abundant gardens They
provided,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">would set out<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">to live <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">not just outside them<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>but<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>everywhere<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">with such fiery intention<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">our success was
assured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Did Mother and Father,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">having birthed all things<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 175.8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">in the reckless
ecstasy of creativity<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">from the seed of
all seeds,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">pause<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>even
for a moment <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">to imagine<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">that one day <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">their favored principle<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">of hunter and
hunted<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">would run amok in us,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">that we would<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">discard and devour<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>so
much of the earth<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and hound so
many species<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">as well as our
own mothers, fathers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>brothers, sisters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>sons and daughters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">into
a Great Vanishing?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With such history behind and
within us, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">how is it that Mother and Father<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">still let us
live<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">let us struggle to find our way<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>toward
redemption?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Are They simply indulgent weavers
who cannot discard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">a deeply flawed
blanket<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">whose dark designs they have come
to love?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or are They truly possessed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a compassion beyond our comprehension?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At this moment<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">life
is ours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let us set our feet on the path<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">with prayers <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">of thanksgiving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let us say, “Thank you!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">to
Mother and Father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let us say, “Thank you!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">to
all They put here before us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">that
led to now,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Thank you!” to all that is,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Thank you!” to all that will be.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For fourteen billion years <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">we <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>were <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">not
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mother and Father birthed the
universe<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">without a hand from us,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">worked out its drama<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">through cold and
hot fury,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">barrenness,
solitude, roar and silence,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">then
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">gave
us <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the chance to wriggle <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">from long-ripening wombs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why was each of us born and not
others?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why did we make adulthood and not
others?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">How can we show our gratitude and
worthiness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">for such a chancy </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">investment?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let us offer
still more thanks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let us give thanks <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">to The Mother
and Father of All Things<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for having <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">the wild,
foolish, restless impulse to choose <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and not brother sperm<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>or
sister ova.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let us thank the earth They made<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">which has given rise to all we
draw upon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>for
sustenance and succor<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">--to the waters we use<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">to grow and cook,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">slake our
thirst,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>clean our bodies, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>frolic and fish;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to the soil that gives rise to plants <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">that give us
sweet air to breathe,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>plants we eat,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>plants we use to weave, build, warm, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">trap, hunt, play<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and heal;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let us give thanks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">to all the beings <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from the tiniest we cannot see<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">to the largest<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">whose flesh,
bones, sinews and skins<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">we have taken <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">with ecstasy and
sadness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">for we know they were not made
for us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">but for themselves, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">for the
shimmering whole<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and for Mother and Father<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">in their incomprehensible creative
fervor.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let us give thanks to the long
bead chain of grandmothers <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">who<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">carried and birthed other
grandmothers until<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">our own mothers ripened and
carried us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and helped us wriggle into the
wild, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">beautiful,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">sad
and terrifying <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To all who were present at the
moment of our births<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">we give thanks,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">the family and tribe that cared
for us <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">in our helplessness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">when we were pure<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and yet<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>knew nothing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and all those who caressed and
patted us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>along
our way to discover<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>how
to become human beings<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">how to live and
love<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">with
elegance and awkwardness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>brilliance and ignorance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>how
to sing, dance, drum, whoop, laugh,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>whisper and weep <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>together,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">how to hold each other with bold
affection<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and
yet step back so each of us can<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>hear<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>the
song of his own being.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">May we raise our children<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>with
such right love<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>--devotion without indulgence--<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>that
before long<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>across
the many lands<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>each
soul is a gathering place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>where
all souls are safe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then may our ways<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>be fragrant as
spring soil<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>tasty as ripe berry juice<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>to
Mother and Father<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">so They might find
us worthy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of their work and worry<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">give
us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">lives<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that are <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">good<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and long<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">and
end </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">with our cheeks</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on
Their chests<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">as
we listen to Their hearts <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">drum<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>drum<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>drum<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">before
setting out <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>for the gardens<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">in
the bright reaches<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 2.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">of
their eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">C Copyright 2012 Bob Kamm,
reproduction by author’s permission only.</span></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">
</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-23596422956040431802012-06-12T09:26:00.003-07:002012-06-13T09:12:02.680-07:00The Central Problem of American DemocracyAs in communities across the country, we had an election here on June 5th in San Luis Obispo County. Thirty-nine percent of registered voters actually cast ballots. This means that just over 19.5% could have determined who the next County Supervisor will be in a given district, or whether or not a proposition imposing a tax on cigarettes passes. The news wasn't much better across the state or across the country.<br />
<br />
If you go all the way back to 1960 and look at turnout in Presidential elections, the highest turnout<br />
was in 1960, the year JFK was elected. The fact that he was a Catholic was a big controversy back then. In fact, it may have been the central controversy of the election. An awful lot of people got riled up. You'd think, then, that perhaps the turnout was above 75% or even higher. But no, it was<br />
just above 63%. In our most recent Presidential election in which the first individual of African-American heritage was a candidate--another point of controversy--the turnout was just above 58%.<br />
You have to wonder what it would take for our turnout to rise above 70%.<br />
<br />
When you look at these numbers, you can't resist the basic arithmetic that less than 30% of the registered voters in America can determine who becomes President, what kind of economic policy will be put forward, what kind of foreign policy, who is likely to sit on the Supreme Court, immigration policy, education policy--and other matters of great consequence to every living person in this country...and in most of the world. And that 30% does not even have to be informed. It only has to be motivated. Given the absurd amounts of money allowed to be legally pumped into our political system, it is not hard for corporate or other interests to sway with marketing and advertising just enough people to carry an election, with the same kind of approach used by agencies that represent food, detergent, cars and technology companies--short, catchy phrases and flashy images that have little or nothing to do with the challenge of making a sound voting decision.<br />
<br />
Since 9/11, it has become fashionable to make fun of the French. But the French just had an election for their top position and the turnout was above 70%! In Peru, the turnout generally runs upwards of 95% because you cannot get a driver's license if you don't vote. Over the last year, we have regularly seen the looks of joy and the huge turnouts in countries in the Arab world exercising real voting rights for the first time.<br />
<br />
I could marshal more examples but I think the point is pretty obvious. We trumpet to the world that we are its greatest democracy yet a large segment of our citizenry is, for various reasons, asleep at the wheel or willfully not participating. So when you feel like screaming at the people in your local government, or in your statehouse or in Washington, think again. If you're going to talk to anyone, maybe it should be the neighbors or friends who tell you they never vote. After our 2000 Presidential election, who can claim that votes don't matter? How can we have a government of, by and for the people when the people don't vote? What does it say about a person's integrity if they fail to vote but love to complain about the way things are going? Even worse, what does it say about a person's integrity if they have never voted and then run for office, as happened in the last gubernatorial<br />
election in California?<br />
<br />
Obviously, it is also important that we cast <em>informed</em> votes, that we actually relish the responsibility of learning about what is going on in our country and voting for real people rather than deeply wounded people with grandiose dreams of self-gratification, and for real issues rather than those pumped up by special interests. When you look at the kind of people our founding fathers and mothers were, it is easy to imagine that their vision of America two or three hundred years after the Declaration of Independence was a society of highly engaged, fully informed, community-focused individuals reveling in their freedom, exercising it robustly and spending much of their leisure time in discourse and actions with friends and neighbors designed to make the common good even better. Given that they were thoughtful, educated people, we can imagine their thinking of our future much like the grand discussions in the Greek polis of ancient times--the original democracy--where all the men (alas, even the Greeks had not discovered equal rights) were vitally engaged in discourse that was passionate yet civil. In my own nearly two-year experience on an Israeli kibbutz, in my early twenties, I saw this in action only with women fully empowered. The "asifa" was the meeting of all adults in the community. There were brilliant, articulate debates over what served the greater good. <br />
I'm not saying it was perfect. After all, the members were human. But by and large, this was exactly the kind of respectful, committed engagement our founders must have dreamed.<br />
<br />
For the moment, I leave it to you to think about why a significant portion of our populace does not vote. No doubt, there are different reasons for different segments that may have to do with socioeconomics as well as educational, religious and cultural factors.<br />
<br />
But how do we avoid the conclusion that the lack of informed participation in American democracy is our great hypocrisy and great shame? Do we think the rest of the world doesn't see this? More importantly, this failure to fully engage is probably the prime contributor to the conviction many of us have that the citizenry does not control the nation's destiny in today's America, that we are certainly not being led by the best and the brightest our society can produce and that our national ethos and essence are gradually leaking away into the sands of history. To put it more bluntly, there is an old saying, "Use it or lose it." We're not using it, so we're losing it.<br />
<br />
C 2012 Bob KammBob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-48347466851141039412012-05-03T09:44:00.000-07:002012-05-05T08:56:43.914-07:00<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>The Way Forward</strong></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Go back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>to go
forward,<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">forget<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> to remember<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">--origins<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>accomplishments<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>calamities;<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Forget how to count<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>how to
name<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">judge, categorize, diminish,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> fear.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Peel away</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> belief,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> identity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Go to the sea. Study tides, waves, broad wings.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Go to the meadow,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Get on hands and knees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Squish mud between fingers and toes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> S</span>tudy earth, obsidian, clay, quartz.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Get face to face
with caterpillars.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wonder at the wings of bumblebees,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">the hunger of grubs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
Caress roots,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> seeds,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> shoots,<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>blossoms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Go to the mountain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Consider sun, wind, angles, elevations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Go to the river.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> See our own naked shapes <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>in the still pool.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Inhale.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Exhale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">See.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Smell.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Touch.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Feel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fall, scrape, stub,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>whack,
sprain, break<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">our bodies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Weep
until <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gasping<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>till the wall of each cell<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>knows
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> how easily <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> it can be <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">cracked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">C 2012 Bob Kamm<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-36808583893947460552012-04-02T14:22:00.004-07:002012-04-02T14:22:58.362-07:00The Myth of the Pelican & the Truth About Humans<h3 class="sf_blog_posttitle" sizcache="0" sizset="0"> </h3><div class="sf_blog_entry"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;"> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span> There is an interesting bit of information about pelicans circulating among bird lovers. It holds that because of their diving into the water from heights up to 60 feet and at high velocity,</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">they eventually go blind from the accumulated damage done to their eyes when they</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">hit the water. In other words, some of the very things that serve their survival—their keen eyesight and diving ability—lead to their demise. Now I have discovered this is not true. It is a myth. First of all, not all pelicans dive for prey. Some of them paddle along the surface and do quite well catching dinner</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">from a sitting position, thank you very much. Those that do dive have protective sacs that cushion the</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">impact on their eyes. Pelicans have been around for roughly 40 million years without significant change in their anatomy, from what we can tell. So the design seems to work. Individual pelicans also live up to </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">forty years, which puts their diving scores far beyond those of any human Olympian. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> So this is a myth, but we have many myths in human culture. They are not true on the surface, but they are true at the depth. An obvious example is the myth of Superman, which I have written about extensively (my first book, <b><i>The Superman Syndrome</i></b>, 2000, Authorhouse). When is the last time you saw a man flying around your city in blue tights with red boots? No, there is no superman, no superheroes, no X-men, no Prometheus giving fire to man (if you want to go all the way back to the Greeks). Nonetheless, a careful examination of these myths teaches us some valuable lessons. The preeminent one for me is that all these superheroes have some kind of terrible wound visited upon them. In the case of Superman, his entire planet exploded with his family on it when he was merely a baby. He had to endure a long solitary journey to his new home on earth. He grows up to be the Man of Steel. But there is something very interesting about this man. He doesn’t feel very much. He’s not the sensitive type. If he has any feelings, they seem to be a kind of detached amusement or righteous anger. But the deep truth is conveyed to us when we discover that in order for him to be in love with Lois Lane, he must give up his super powers. In other words, steel and feel don’t compute. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The myth is repeating to us a basic human truth. That when we undergo trauma in childhood, we tend to shut down. The capacity to feel, to yearn for connection is there under the surface but we are not fully in touch with it. We become grandiose. We become world-shakers, masters of the universe in business and politics, figuratively or literally insane artists who create magnificent paintings, sculptures, poetry, film roles, or athletic stars--all to feed the public hunger for someone to instill hope that we can triumph in the end. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> But, like the teaching within the myth of the pelican, what we discover is that while being able to disconnect from feeling has allowed us to survive through the traumas of the childhood of our species and our individual childhoods, in the long run, this dampening of feeling puts us at risk of vanishing.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We seem to need crises to awaken our deeper sensibilities—like global warming today, or the suffering of our fellow man paraded before our eyes on evening TV such as happened during the Viet Nam war and the Civil Rights Movement or more recently, the devastation of Katrina on the people of New Orleans or the brutal suppression of human rights in so many countries around the world. But reacting to crises is a risky strategy at best. We are always trying to catch up. We don’t seem capable of grasping and acting on the essential truth by asking the core questions: why would humans treat each other this way? Why would humans treat the planet that has given them life this way? How could we be so insensitive to the evidence that surrounds us?</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Jill Bolte Taylor, the Harvard neurologist who suffered and recovered from a left hemisphere stroke has written: “Although many of us may think of ourselves as <i>thinking creatures that feel</i>, biologically we are <i>feeling creatures that think</i>.” (Her italics). Yes, we are birthed and experience are first most vulnerable years of life with our sensing and feeling brains (brainstem, right hemisphere, right limbic system), and have to wait for more than two decades for the left hemisphere “thinking brain” to completely come online. But it would probably be more accurate to say that we are feeling creatures that disconnect from our feelings under certain levels of trauma and stress, but that the feelings from which we disconnect to not vanish from our biological system, only from our conscious awareness. Then they exert tremendous influence on the further development of our entire physiological system, including how and what we think about later as the left hemisphere does develop. We are, in many ways, at war with ourselves—a heightened feeling capacity being “told” by other parts of the brain that it does not or should not feel so deeply. As long as we obey those messages which are delivered by life in general and often our quite specifically by our original caregivers and instructors as agents of a disconnected society, we will increasingly be at risk. As individuals, a lack of feeling will lead us toward less than best-case decisions, at the least. As a nation and a species, we will not feel danger until it is upon us—until we are nearly blind from the impact of so many dives in our frenzied pursuit of what we have come to believe is the real sustenance—material possessions, status, money, power. Even political freedom, while a necessary precondition, does not guarantee psychological freedom from this cycle of reinforced suppression of feeling. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> So, do we ultimately perish from using the same strategy over and over again as the myth ascribes to the pelican? Is this a fatal glitch in our design—that in order to survive we must disconnect from our deep feeling nature, and that disconnection will render us incapable of responding to the very crises it impels us to create? </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The jury is still out, out on the question of whether or not enough of us can see this and change </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">However, the jury is not out on how we make it through. Nowhere is it more exquisitely stated than by Martin Prechtel in his luminous book, <b><i>Long Life, Honey in the Heart</i></b>: <span style="font-size: 11px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"> “<span style="font-size: 12px;">For me, true initiations would be impossible until the modern world surrenders to the grief of its origins and seeks a true comprehension of the sacred.”</span><i> </i><span style="font-size: 12px;">He goes on to discuss</span> <span style="font-size: 12px;">the perverse hunger that is the result of being disconnected from the simple feeling truths of everyday life: “…hunger for entertainment that hopes to fill the spiritual void of individuals and a whole culture with talk shows, corn chips, movies, dope, fast cars. That hunger is an emptiness <i>that should be wept into, grieved about</i>, instead of blocked and filled up” (my italics). <span style="font-family: Calibri;">What an irony. The teaching here is that, like the pelican, we have protective "sacs" near our eyes--tear ducts! The pelican has been here 40 million years. Homo sapiens has only been here 150,000. Our survival repertoire is still largely untested. Still, it</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12px;"> is a sad measure of the breadth of repression that there are still large numbers of people in the psychological community that not only fail to give grieving its due importance as a healing process, but actively denigrate it. </span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12px;"> As is so often the case, artists and soul-adventurers like Prechtel know better than so many of the people who purport to be experts on healing the human heart.. </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">There will be no true transformation into the centuries-old longing for peace and collaboration among humans without our first feeling the brutal and sorrow-filled episodes of our origins—as a species and as individuals. No feeling, no tears; no tears, no truth; no truth, no vision; no vision, no potency to manifest what lives beyond political freedom—psychological and social freedom that cherish, respect and mobilize</span> our essential nature as <em>brilliant feelers</em>. </span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">C 2012 Bob </span></span></div></span></div>Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-3863669913773795522012-04-02T14:22:00.001-07:002012-04-02T14:22:01.747-07:00Parenting From Depth, Part II: Children Should be Seen and...<h3 class="sf_blog_posttitle" sizcache="0" sizset="3"> </h3><div class="sf_blog_entry"> <span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;"> Early in our Imago Parenting Course--Connected Parents, Thriving Kids--we give a quick survey of how parenting styles have changed over the years. For hundreds of years,<br />
parenting was parent-centered, authoritarian, "because I said so", "children are to be seen and not heard." You really have to shake your head on how this approach dominated for thousands of years. Why didn't we as a species see the terrible limits of this approach sooner? Well, that will be a discussion for another day. Suffice it to say that parent-centered parenting did a lot of damage on this planet, some mild and some on the level of holocaust--children treated as slaves, property, brutalized and even killed because "father knew best"in some way. Finally, after the World War II, there was a gradual shift towards child-centered, permissive parenting. "Cchildren are to be seen and not heard" gave way to, "Children are to be seen, heard and given whatever will support their 'self-esteem'". Being a baby-boomer, my experience is that I and my cohort grew up with a sometimes confusing blend of authoritarianism and permissiveness. I think this conflation of the two styles dissipated gradually over the balance of the 20th century and into the 21st. <br />
In the last few years, a lot of parents and professionals in the field of child development have arrived at the conclusion that child-centered parenting has frequently gone too far, indulging children, allowing their scheduled activities to run the life of the household and generally being unwilling or unable to leverage a "positive no" that actually can give children a clear boundary and nurture in them a greater sense of responsibility, a sense that there are other people in the world besides themselves and a mature person makes room for those others. Now what we see, and what we in the Imago community are working towards, is parent-child centered parenting; parenting that emphasizes <em>the relationship</em> between the two, that sees both as catalysts for each other's growth and enrichment. Toward that end, children are to be seen, heard, felt and responded to in ways that are appropriate to the need and the developmental moment, but not over-indulged. As our workbook states: "I am in healthy connection with my child when I'm emotionally available to learn what he/she needs from a parent who is willing to take charge." One obvious example: Conscious parents know that four year olds need about a dozen hours of sleep and are best served by a bedtime around 7 in the evening, not nine, ten or eleven. They also know that it's a good idea to make sure kids burn off a lot of energy about three hours before that bedtime so that they are ready for the quiet enjoyments of bath and reading and gentle play.<br />
My own mnemonic device for this parent-child centered approach is the Italian word cara,which means dear. I set it up this way:<strong> <br />
C</strong>=Consistenly (consistency across situations, not constancy which is impossible)<br />
<strong>A</strong>=Attuned, (meaning emotionally available to "get" our children's reality)<br />
<strong> R</strong>=Responsive, (in a timely manner to the present and long-term needs)<br />
<strong>A</strong>=Appropriate (to the developmental moment the child is experiencing)<br />
<br />
So, being a <strong>C.A.R.A.</strong> parent means we would respond to a crying infant by picking it up, comforting it and attuning to learn what it need: Just the comfort? A diaper change? A warmer/cooler/quieter/more-or-less stimulating environment? Food? Etc. We would understand that an infant can't meet its own needs and certainly cannot regulate its own emotions. She needs us to do that for her just as she needs us to walk for her because she can't walk and speak for her because she can't yet speak and make decisions because the left side of her brain where decisions largelyt get made is, for all intents and purposes, not at all functional. But an appropriate response to a crying teenager might look very different. It might mean that we would mirror his feelings: "Oh, I can see that you are really hurting over this." Or, "You seem really angry about this. Is that what you're feeling?" It might mean we offer hugs. It might mean we let him know we're available if he wants to talk, but empower him to work it through on his own if that's his choice. Your get the picture. The bottom line is to be <strong>Consistently Attuned, Responsive and Appropriate</strong>...which <em>includes</em> our own needs, thus the parent-child relationship. Sometimes, especially with smaller children, it IS appropriate to drop what we're doing and come to their aid. But as a child matures, we have more choices about our proximity to her and her issues. It's important for kids to gradually get through living examples that their parents are "others" and have needs themselves and those needs will sometimes preclude an immediate response to their own. For an infant, the experience of an unmet need can be catastrophic. For a four year-old, far less so. For a fourteen year-old, still less--IF the parent has been consistent over the years in balancing (based on the child's developmental stage) the child's needs with their own. Children ARE to be seen, heard, felt, "gotten" and responded to with appropriate loving behavior; but parents are people, too, and also need to be seen, heard, felt and "gotten"...mostly by their life partners and other adults but, over time, by their children, too. When kids get that their parents are separate people, they grow up to be much more responsible contributors to culture. So there is no danger of children becoming narcissistic if they are truly seen, heard and gotten by parents who intuit or have learned through study what is appropriate at a given moment. <br />
In my book, Real Fatherhood, there are a number of examples of good moments...and bad ones that I tried to correct as quickly as possible. Our Imago Faculty has called such errors, "beautiful mistakes" to remind us all that none of us can be perfect. In one such situation, my son was eight years old. I had been giving him an allowance of $2.00 a week, for which he did certain chores. He got very money focused because there were things he wanted. Suddenly I realized that it was a significant error to pay him to do things. After all, he and I were a family (I was a single dad at the time). We were a team. To pay him changed his status. He became an employee. Kids are not our employees. They are family members and what was appropriate for Ben was to bear his weight as a family member.<br />
Obviously, there were chores he could not do, given his developmental moment. But he could help prepare meals, do dishes, wash the car and do yard work with me. So I self-corrected by telling him that I would no longer pay him for specific chores. He would still get his $2.00 a week so he could learn to manage money--which was the real and right purpose of an allowance. His initial reaction was to pitch a fit. "How will I make more money?" he cried at me. I held steady and let him know that he really couldn't right now. Eventually he'd be old enough so he could perhaps do things for neighbors or have a paper route. I let him cry it out. He was mad at me and he had cause. I was correcting a decision that was less than attuned to the situation at the time. He had a right to his frustration and tears. But the whole thing was over in about a half-hour. That was one of the best half-hours I ever invested in his character...and mine. Parent-child relationship!<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;"></span><span style="font-size: 8px;"></span><span style="font-size: 10px;">C2012 Bob Kamm</span></span></div>Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-38290478554370366562012-04-02T14:20:00.003-07:002012-04-02T14:20:54.963-07:00Your Child's Emotional Tuning<h3 class="sf_blog_posttitle" sizcache="0" sizset="6"> </h3><div class="sf_blog_entry"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> When an infant calls for help and her parent is consistently available and responsive in a <br />
way that meets the child’s need, that child is implicitly learning that it is good to express need <br />
because it will be satisfied in a timely manner. She can’t think at this age, of course, but her <br />
body knows at the cellular level what is happening. This is the ground floor for emotional <br />
balance in adulthood. <br />
A child who experiences such emotional attunement and response from <br />
her parents doesn’t have to escalate her expressions to magnum crying, screaming and flailing <br />
to get mom and dad’s attention. Consequently, as an adult, she is likely to be able to do <br />
without rapid escalation to bring attention to her needs in an intimate relationship but also in <br />
friendships and the workplace. This truth debunks the old idea of letting children cry it <br />
out…which we now know stresses the child’s system with large flows of cortisol and other <br />
stress hormones that can actually do damage to her hippocampus—a part of the brain that is a <br />
building block of IQ because of its key role in creating long-term memory. <br />
Our degree and accuracy of responsiveness is what we might call “emotional tuning.” <br />
Indeed, the entire neurological and hormonal system, of which the brain is the most obvious <br />
component, is an instrument for sensing and feeling in the early years, not thinking. It is being <br />
tuned by caregiver interaction as certainly as a piano is tuned by a piano master. This <br />
emotional tuning determines which emotional notes, note sequences, chords and reaction speeds will <br />
become the most common in the life of the individual. You can continue the metaphor by imagining what kind of parent interactions will lead the child to produce Wagner-like reactions rather than, say, Mozart, Bach, Beethoven or, in today’s terms, the quiet and contemplative music of Michael Hoppe or the blaring, machine-gun like emanations of metal rock and rap…as well as all the possible variations along that continuum.<br />
Unfortunately, we parents are not perfect and there are plenty of times when we either <br />
miss our children’s cues or are simply unable to satisfy them due to outside stresses pulling at <br />
us—a bad economy, a catastrophic act of nature, ethnic strife and war, just to name a few of <br />
the possibilities. So, many of us will pass through our critical and highly dependent first four or <br />
five years experiencing something between inconsistent emotional attunement and response <br />
from our parents to very little at all. When we arrive on the shores of adulthood and find <br />
ourselves drawn into an intimate relationship, friendship or important workplace issue, it is <br />
natural that these old deficits come with us and do a lot to shape the dynamics of those<br />
relationships. The good news is that through the right kinds of courageous emotion-based <br />
work in adulthood, those old tunes, as deeply written as they are, can gradually be rewritten<br />
into a more harmonious musical score.<br />
<span style="font-size: 11px;">C 2012 Bob Kamm</span></span></span></div>Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-545620780810283327.post-86079424323833764762012-04-02T14:20:00.001-07:002012-04-02T14:20:05.911-07:00Love Complete<h3 class="sf_blog_posttitle" sizcache="0" sizset="9"> </h3><div class="sf_blog_entry"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px;"> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></i></b> </div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">for Annie </span></span></i></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I arrive</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> shipwrecked</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">on your shores</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">--as I do from time to time--</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">and the love I haul from the waves</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> is soaked</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> barnacled</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> and cracked…</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">the cause is in me</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> and me alone,</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">my darling,</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> for you </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">are perfectly loveable</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">and deserve</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">a fleet </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">with full sails</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> flags flying</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> fresh paint</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">and a cargo of love </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> complete,</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> intact,</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">delivered onto the docks</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">with gloved hands. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have been at sea</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">too long</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">yet also long enough</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> to know</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">you have, too.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> It is my prayer</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> and my intention</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">now</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> to keep land beneath my feet</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">to witness and adore you</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> in each of your many moments</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">…every</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">shift of wind</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">on the surface of your eyes </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">the smallest movement</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> in their depths,</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">the subtle telling of your own long voyage</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> that words can’t touch.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">No part of you</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> should be left behind</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">dismissed, neglected or </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> partially embraced.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That was done</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> by others in your past</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">so that you buried the full treasure of your heart</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">under dunes, driftwood</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> and these stones</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">that, for all the hiding</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">over many years,</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> still held sunlight</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">captive</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> in dark flecks</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> like waves at night</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> do moonlight.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, we will </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> go together now</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">in day and darkness<br />
you and I</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">digging</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> carefully </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> with our hands</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> until every chest is open </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> and every jewel revered</span></div></span></div>Bob Kammhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03632014182512209592noreply@blogger.com0