i'm not quite there yet. not sure if i ever will be.
i realized this today when talking to sis about the man i dread becoming because he is very much a part of me. what he did still serves as a barrier to any possibility of being able to relate to him as an adult. i still feel like a docile child around him. he did a good job of making sure i was docile, incapable of standing up for myself, my siblings, my mother. he contends he did nothing wrong. still manipulative. twisting truths to suit his vision best. how can i reconcile with such ugliness? pretend to get along with it? i abhor him. i abhor what i am because of how well he shaped me and my anger. the pit of black that rests deep in my soul, my past and present. how can i avoid bringing it into my future? i want nothing more than to embrace and get along with it (or do i? should i?), with him. but he treats me the way he has for 18 years, and then i'm magically an adult that can relate to him as a friend? not a chance. i could never be real with him, he made sure we knew that. my inability to be myself freely (not that i know who that is) will always be a barrier not just to our relationship, but to my relationship with others. i am a master at walking on eggshells just to appease. i hate that it's either this or being him, which is unacceptable. i just want to be me and happy. but who can teach me these things when all i've learned is anything but?
no i am not ready to forgive him. i do not think this would change if he were to be on his deathbed the next day.
does this make me incapable of practicing what i want to preach? of love and acceptance? of great understanding?
how can i let go? how can i forget? his teachings are forever seared into my psyche and soul...
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Books and Keeping Track of What I Read
So, in the last few months, I've read more fiction on a weekly basis than I think I ever have in my entire life. Who has time for fiction when academia is hounding you to read painfully boring stuff--and I mean wanting to spoon out my eyeballs and burn them so I have an excuse as to why I can't read, cause they couldn't have possibly published all those academic articles in braille right?
Any who, thanks to an American postmodern fiction class I took, I've finally had the chance to read stuff classified as academic that expanded on my thinking about certain things. The class was like a book club for academic nerds. I certainly was able to re-examine theories I came across previously through novels like Jazz by Toni Morrison, Neuromancer by William Gibson, Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie, and Maus by Art Spiegelman (which I haven't touched since third grade).These are books I would not have touched otherwise and was glad I forced myself into a situation where I had to. Being able to think about things like identity formation and becoming,and the role of history, culture, environment etc., in all of this, through works of fiction of the most truthful sort, is a nice alternative to all theory all the time, which is at times the blandest way to encounter knowledge. Needless to say, I've enjoyed my time in the world of fiction almost as much as I enjoy my time watching thought-provoking anime/Japanese animated shows/movies. I now desire to communicate my findings in the world of theory in similar ways--except maybe in graphic novel form, and no not the academic ones that are actually paper tranquilizers with pictures.
It's been a while since I've read these books but the ideas communicated still pop up from time to time. I wonder how effective it would be to take notes from these novels, like I would my academic texts...Would I be academizing an artform and thus rendering it boring? Who knows, but I've gotta keep better track of what I read sand my mind isn't the most reliable place at the moment.
Oh yeah, so a friend of mine lent me a few books I consumed rather quickly and would like to incorporate into my understanding of love/ loving practice, becoming, and the place of violence in all of this. I'm still grappling with the necessity of violence in the process of becoming and rethinking what this means. The books are Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler. As with the previously mentioned novels and authors--except Spiegelman--I have never read any of her work but have always heard about how amazing she is and have now seen for myself. I enjoyed Parable of the Sower more (I don't know, it just seemed more impactful in its messaging) because it made me revisit my wanderings in attempting to understand alchemy--read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho a while back among other brief texts about alchemy and everything. Now I just have to revisit and synthesize everything in an attempt to come to my own understanding of all of this complicated stuff! But who has time for that? I've gotta learn some new learning software for a class I'm teaching in a few weeks!
For now I'll take what I can get. I kinda wish I had more friends who read cool books they could loan me, or at least had a suggestion or two. I really don't have time to but if it's juicy, I'll make time dammit! I mean fiction of course, and am beginning to favor postmodern styles more and more, which includes graphic novels too! Reminds me to include The Eternal Smile by Gene Luen Yang in my attempted synthesis. Good stuff.
So yeah, any suggestions for what to read that is related to anything mentioned here or elsewhere in this bloggy-blog is welcome. No guarantees I'll read it, but will try if you really want me to. I also wish I could discuss these books with someone and not just internet paper...
Oh well, until next time...
Any who, thanks to an American postmodern fiction class I took, I've finally had the chance to read stuff classified as academic that expanded on my thinking about certain things. The class was like a book club for academic nerds. I certainly was able to re-examine theories I came across previously through novels like Jazz by Toni Morrison, Neuromancer by William Gibson, Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie, and Maus by Art Spiegelman (which I haven't touched since third grade).These are books I would not have touched otherwise and was glad I forced myself into a situation where I had to. Being able to think about things like identity formation and becoming,and the role of history, culture, environment etc., in all of this, through works of fiction of the most truthful sort, is a nice alternative to all theory all the time, which is at times the blandest way to encounter knowledge. Needless to say, I've enjoyed my time in the world of fiction almost as much as I enjoy my time watching thought-provoking anime/Japanese animated shows/movies. I now desire to communicate my findings in the world of theory in similar ways--except maybe in graphic novel form, and no not the academic ones that are actually paper tranquilizers with pictures.
It's been a while since I've read these books but the ideas communicated still pop up from time to time. I wonder how effective it would be to take notes from these novels, like I would my academic texts...Would I be academizing an artform and thus rendering it boring? Who knows, but I've gotta keep better track of what I read sand my mind isn't the most reliable place at the moment.
Oh yeah, so a friend of mine lent me a few books I consumed rather quickly and would like to incorporate into my understanding of love/ loving practice, becoming, and the place of violence in all of this. I'm still grappling with the necessity of violence in the process of becoming and rethinking what this means. The books are Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler. As with the previously mentioned novels and authors--except Spiegelman--I have never read any of her work but have always heard about how amazing she is and have now seen for myself. I enjoyed Parable of the Sower more (I don't know, it just seemed more impactful in its messaging) because it made me revisit my wanderings in attempting to understand alchemy--read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho a while back among other brief texts about alchemy and everything. Now I just have to revisit and synthesize everything in an attempt to come to my own understanding of all of this complicated stuff! But who has time for that? I've gotta learn some new learning software for a class I'm teaching in a few weeks!
For now I'll take what I can get. I kinda wish I had more friends who read cool books they could loan me, or at least had a suggestion or two. I really don't have time to but if it's juicy, I'll make time dammit! I mean fiction of course, and am beginning to favor postmodern styles more and more, which includes graphic novels too! Reminds me to include The Eternal Smile by Gene Luen Yang in my attempted synthesis. Good stuff.
So yeah, any suggestions for what to read that is related to anything mentioned here or elsewhere in this bloggy-blog is welcome. No guarantees I'll read it, but will try if you really want me to. I also wish I could discuss these books with someone and not just internet paper...
Oh well, until next time...
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
what am i doing and where is the love?
my thoughts and possible realizations of getting a ph.d. in a "liberatory" field
what can i say?
i’m not so sure of anything anymore. just got out of a “discussion”
about neoliberalism and its various impacts on social systems, especially
higher education. metaphorically the outcomes of these actions were equated
with a “zombie culture” a system of the living dead that preys on the living.
we acknowledged how steeped in neoliberalism higher ed was and especially
programs like cultural studies. i wondered, how can we know about this but not
do anything about it? how can such a program that critiques these systems
simultaneously perpetuate them? i spoke about the process of getting a
dissertation, especially the preliminary exams and dissertation process. i
noted how the experiences reiterated to me were deeply alienating, soul
crushing experiences (which oddly enough was done out of love somehow).
i am having trouble signing on to the belief that this
process is in any way humanizing given its legacy of being the exact opposite—it
makes or breaks you after all right? you must remove yourself from your loved
ones, work in isolation with these unreasonable expectations hanging over your
head of becoming an expert in your field, an intellectual, that you are
cultivating this intellectual capital that puts you above the rest; a
perpetuation of these deeply oppressive hierarchies.
i did not come to
this program to learn how to play the game, go off and play the game and teach
others how to play the game! same goes for sociology. i idealized this program—and
sociology—of being a place where i would acquire the tools needed to enact some
kind of change in these types of systems! not simply know what is going on for
the sake of understanding it in and of itself and just continue on my way happy
with the knowledge i’ve gained. i know the process of becoming and getting a
ph.d is hard work and i’m okay with that part. not okay with how dehumanizing
that process continues to be, and the implication of higher ed being part of a
larger system steeped in neoliberalism is that i shouldn’t expect anything
less of any higher ed program, no matter what clothing it wears, what ideals it
spouts.
someone used the analogy of the process being one where
individuals have to give up and rearrange their thinking about things; that
that is what is painful about the process. i responded with what i feel this
means i have to give up: the ideals that i came in with, ideals that i am here
to not only understand but somehow use what i have learned to enact more just
ways of being in whatever situation that is i find myself being of service—to practice
the ideals of social justice and wellbeing of myself and others.
i wrote this found poem from transcripts of an interview
with a meth addict in which s/he describes her/his experiences with the drug.
here is the poem i wrote:
in the beginning?
yes.
ravenously.
it gave me energy
for a while
but...all it does is just deteriorate and break you down
it’s humbling
lies like you wouldn’t believe
changes your brain structure so much
and i thought we had a connection
that’s what i fell in love with
looking at it made me
wonder if i am addicted to education and the idea of it as a liberatory space
while having experienced it as the opposite of that? fixated on the feeling
that what i come away with is something that allows me the ability to enact
social justice when that is nothing more than a fantasy in ‘real’ life? it
reminds me of the silly kid i was in thinking i was going to be an astronaut,
traveling the galaxies and jumping off the rings of Saturn, or becoming a
scientist who discovers the cure for AIDS; a childhood fantasy i had to let go
of once my relationships with science became problematic.
academia does the same things this poem about addiction
describes and the process of learning these exciting things about structural
and systematic oppression—the ability to put a theoretical face to what is
happening in society—fills me with the joy of knowing but the anxiousness of
wondering what i could do about it. it breaks my heart to think that i was in
love with nothing more than an idea; a fantasy and that love doesn’t live here
at all—not the kind that propels anyone to meaningful action.
i want a ph.d. so i can teach others about these troubling
ways of society but now i feel at a loss. how can i move forward knowing what i
do? i want to think that i would do things differently, but after having taught
once and knowing the implications of the education system i participate in...i
just don’t know how can i be happy where love is not valued, encouraged,
accepted or fostered? i don’t want to become a zombie. and is that what moving
forward means i’m signing on for?
being at my alma mater seemed like such a humanizing place in comparison.
i didn’t understand a lot but my soul was never desecrated for my lack of
understanding nor was i being trained to play some kind of game ...everyone here seems too busy to care about making anything
humanizing possible...
what does it mean to get a ph.d. in a place that does care about humanity and love? that practices what it preaches about social justice?
where do i go from here?
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
leap day!
and what a day!
why is february only 28/9 days again?
i need more time!
so much work to do it's ridiculous!
back to work!
why is february only 28/9 days again?
i need more time!
so much work to do it's ridiculous!
back to work!
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
the jung typology test
according to the above test, i am considered infp! that is:
introverted
iNtuitive
feeling
perceiving
cool beans, but what does this mean? i like what this site had to say:
Also, Healers might well feel a sense of separation because of their often misunderstood childhood. Healers live a fantasy-filled childhood-they are the prince or princess of fairy tales-an attitude which, sadly, is frowned upon, or even punished, by many parents. With parents who want them to get their head out of the clouds, Healers begin to believe they are bad to be so fanciful, so dreamy, and can come to see themselves as ugly ducklings. In truth, they are quite OK just as they are, only different from most others-swans reared in a family of ducks.
At work, Healers are adaptable, welcome new ideas and new information, are patient with complicated situations, but impatient with routine details. Healers are keenly aware of people and their feelings, and relate well with most others. Because of their deep-seated reserve, however, they can work quite happily alone. When making decisions, Healers follow their heart not their head, which means they can make errors of fact, but seldom of feeling. They have a natural interest in scholarly activities and demonstrate, like the other Idealists, a remarkable facility with language. They have a gift for interpreting stories, as well as for creating them, and thus often write in lyric, poetic fashion. Frequently they hear a call to go forth into the world and help others, a call they seem ready to answer, even if they must sacrifice their own comfort.
Not to say all of this pertains to me 100 %--i do strive to eventually follow through with the last part for instance. most of it resonates with me quite well in any case.
any one else want to give it a shot? what are you and do you agree with the assessment?
http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp
until next time...
introverted
iNtuitive
feeling
perceiving
cool beans, but what does this mean? i like what this site had to say:
Healers present a calm and serene face to the world, and can seem shy, even distant around others. But inside they're anything but serene, having a capacity for personal caring rarely found in the other types. Healers care deeply about the inner life of a few special persons, or about a favorite cause in the world at large. And their great passion is to heal the conflicts that trouble individuals, or that divide groups, and thus to bring wholeness, or health, to themselves, their loved ones, and their community.
Healers have a profound sense of idealism that comes from a strong personal sense of right and wrong. They conceive of the world as an ethical, honorable place, full of wondrous possibilities and potential goods. In fact, to understand Healers, we must understand that their deep commitment to the positive and the good is almost boundless and selfless, inspiring them to make extraordinary sacrifices for someone or something they believe in. Set off from the rest of humanity by their privacy and scarcity, Healers can often feel even more isolated in the purity of their idealism.
At work, Healers are adaptable, welcome new ideas and new information, are patient with complicated situations, but impatient with routine details. Healers are keenly aware of people and their feelings, and relate well with most others. Because of their deep-seated reserve, however, they can work quite happily alone. When making decisions, Healers follow their heart not their head, which means they can make errors of fact, but seldom of feeling. They have a natural interest in scholarly activities and demonstrate, like the other Idealists, a remarkable facility with language. They have a gift for interpreting stories, as well as for creating them, and thus often write in lyric, poetic fashion. Frequently they hear a call to go forth into the world and help others, a call they seem ready to answer, even if they must sacrifice their own comfort.
Not to say all of this pertains to me 100 %--i do strive to eventually follow through with the last part for instance. most of it resonates with me quite well in any case.
any one else want to give it a shot? what are you and do you agree with the assessment?
http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp
until next time...
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Unwelcome visit from an old friend pt. 2: conference blues
after a visit in conference-land, my self-esteem plummeted to a familiar low.
i held a workshop oriented session that discussed love and social justice. i made sure to inform the participants that i was by no means an expert on anything and was basing the workshop on three books i read on the matter: The Art of Loving, All About Love, and Strength to Love. i'm not sure how well things went. there was positive affirmations from my friends, but the one individual from another university who did attend presented her card to one of my friends...a participant...and walked off.
the thing about this friend is that he is way smart, brilliant even. i tend to befriend people i admire for their positive vibes and smarts. i know i can learn something from them and grow with them as a result (i have yet to figure out what it is i give to such awesome people). any who, sensitivity set in and needless to say i began to have massive doubts.
with most (probably all) of the people i consider friends, i find myself to be not exactly their equal. in retrospect of hanging out with most of them, i see myself as the "ugly friend". not as smart, not as articulate, not as hip, not nearly as cool. from time to time a few will tell me what they see in me (not from prompting mind you) and i wonder why i can't see these things for myself.
what else could it mean that i am not acknowledged for the workshop given, but my friend is? yes, he made some good thought provoking points and does not hold back on positing an issue that implicates authority figures (we're both graduate students in the same program). like i said he's brilliant.
my purpose was not necessarily to be an expert on the areas of love and social justice, simply to facilitate discussion on what we know and a fragment of the literature that discusses love and social justice. in the end it seems that the pleasure in intellectual masturbation must be satisfied and i did not do it for this particular professor. cue song this moment reminds me of!
still i feel as though i'm always coming up short. why is it so important to be one of the cool kids? as much as my friend shies away from these modes of being, if he choose to, he could totally be in like flynn (whatever that means but you get the point i hope). i on the other hand would have to undergo a radical transformation for this to happen. this would include, being smarter than everyone, being cooler than everyone (which involves having traveled the world, being dressed to the nines, being a few degrees of separation from some celebrity, having a clique, having an air of awesomeness about me, charisma, beauty and grace, and impeccable timing and taste. the ability to go out with folks on a whim is a necessary facet as well.), and somehow just being plain worthy of acknowledgement whenever i speak. a previous post on the matter touches on why this isn't already the case.
i don't know. affirmation is nice, but it would also be nice to be able to see what others claim to see. i just don't get it. here i am feeling like i'm in eternal high school, and i hated high school! that's why i did a high school/college credit program that allowed me to do community college--to hang out with adults who could care less about that stuff (the classes were pretty cool too). having a positive attitude only gets me so far when stuff like being excluded continually happens. makes me wonder if i left, if my absence would be noticed?
oh well, at least my son still likes hanging out with me, which makes me dread the teenage years.
when i feel this low, only one thing left to do, chant like crazy and reconnect myself and the universe around me. that and walk it off...hit it rj and aaron!
until next time...
i held a workshop oriented session that discussed love and social justice. i made sure to inform the participants that i was by no means an expert on anything and was basing the workshop on three books i read on the matter: The Art of Loving, All About Love, and Strength to Love. i'm not sure how well things went. there was positive affirmations from my friends, but the one individual from another university who did attend presented her card to one of my friends...a participant...and walked off.
the thing about this friend is that he is way smart, brilliant even. i tend to befriend people i admire for their positive vibes and smarts. i know i can learn something from them and grow with them as a result (i have yet to figure out what it is i give to such awesome people). any who, sensitivity set in and needless to say i began to have massive doubts.
with most (probably all) of the people i consider friends, i find myself to be not exactly their equal. in retrospect of hanging out with most of them, i see myself as the "ugly friend". not as smart, not as articulate, not as hip, not nearly as cool. from time to time a few will tell me what they see in me (not from prompting mind you) and i wonder why i can't see these things for myself.
what else could it mean that i am not acknowledged for the workshop given, but my friend is? yes, he made some good thought provoking points and does not hold back on positing an issue that implicates authority figures (we're both graduate students in the same program). like i said he's brilliant.
my purpose was not necessarily to be an expert on the areas of love and social justice, simply to facilitate discussion on what we know and a fragment of the literature that discusses love and social justice. in the end it seems that the pleasure in intellectual masturbation must be satisfied and i did not do it for this particular professor. cue song this moment reminds me of!
still i feel as though i'm always coming up short. why is it so important to be one of the cool kids? as much as my friend shies away from these modes of being, if he choose to, he could totally be in like flynn (whatever that means but you get the point i hope). i on the other hand would have to undergo a radical transformation for this to happen. this would include, being smarter than everyone, being cooler than everyone (which involves having traveled the world, being dressed to the nines, being a few degrees of separation from some celebrity, having a clique, having an air of awesomeness about me, charisma, beauty and grace, and impeccable timing and taste. the ability to go out with folks on a whim is a necessary facet as well.), and somehow just being plain worthy of acknowledgement whenever i speak. a previous post on the matter touches on why this isn't already the case.
i don't know. affirmation is nice, but it would also be nice to be able to see what others claim to see. i just don't get it. here i am feeling like i'm in eternal high school, and i hated high school! that's why i did a high school/college credit program that allowed me to do community college--to hang out with adults who could care less about that stuff (the classes were pretty cool too). having a positive attitude only gets me so far when stuff like being excluded continually happens. makes me wonder if i left, if my absence would be noticed?
oh well, at least my son still likes hanging out with me, which makes me dread the teenage years.
when i feel this low, only one thing left to do, chant like crazy and reconnect myself and the universe around me. that and walk it off...hit it rj and aaron!
until next time...
Monday, February 20, 2012
Why? Being wrong about something so volatile
I just finished reading Jazz by Toni Morrison and before talking to others and getting a clearer interpretation of it, I could not hold my tongue in disgust about the path some of the characters had taken towards growth and becoming. One of the major juxtapositions in this book (in my mind anyway) has to do with violence and love. I have always had trouble believing that from violent acts comes the potential for more loving acts, making violence a necessity in order for the emergence of love to be a possibility. Sure I've seen it happen. Non-violent movements are a testament to this idea.
I cannot ignore the fact that from violence, lives and souls have been desecrated, destroyed, and brutalized by such senselessness. Sure, philosophers that discuss the movement of civilization toward 'rationality'(and the Enlightenment as a testament of that) say that such senselessness was necessary in order for us to be where we are today. But was/is is really necessary that Others be devastated by atrocities of the Dominant in order for the possibility of agency and subjectivity to arise? Did person/group a have to die or experience such violent acts in order for person/group b to become their subjective selves?Or for the possibility of others in group a to become their subjective selves? Should it really be considered that such things were done out of love? Or that love emerges from this?
Of course being on the receiving end of such acts has not helped with the trouble I've had and perhaps refusal in accepting this to be the case.
However, thanks to a friend another view of the violence/love juxtaposition is apparent (and I really need to read this book again). That of giving birth. Which brings forth the argument that what goes on with the characters of the book that took the needlessly violent route was meant as a cautionary tale. Considering one's becoming, instead, as the act of giving birth is one that conjoins the violence and pain brought on by the act and the emergence of love that results. Presumably the creation of this new life that is being given birth to is/was also an act of love.
I'll admit, it's difficult to see the emergence of agency/self-hood/subjectivity in this way; viewing a violent yet beautiful act, in such a positive light (which is easy enough to imagine having given birth) when the violent aspect is something one has been subjected to from external dominating forces (did that make any sense?). Maybe because my journey has been a painful one, filled with violence at times (as I'm certain Jazz points out about its characters). The work of striving toward self-hood, toward the use of agency, toward becoming a subjective being is difficult because of this historical pain and violence. Overcoming this is also painful, and efforts to do so can and often are misguided and misinterpret what it means to overcome (something Jazz also points out rather well).
This is one of the many things I am trying to figure out on this journey. Having encountered such a powerful piece has shown me that I have a lot to learn about what I am trying to do for myself. Growth, understanding, becoming who I am meant to be without needlessly bring harm to others, all the while trying to become infused with love so I can act in loving ways, it's a tough task that can seem vague at times given the directions I've gone and continue to go. I cannot seem to get away from the fact that it's going to be painful and perhaps violent, but if I imagine this as part of the process of giving birth...well it will take a while for this point of view to become my own given my experiences, but I'm willing to learn, whatever that may mean. It's not the first time I've been wrong about how I understand something...
Until next time
I cannot ignore the fact that from violence, lives and souls have been desecrated, destroyed, and brutalized by such senselessness. Sure, philosophers that discuss the movement of civilization toward 'rationality'(and the Enlightenment as a testament of that) say that such senselessness was necessary in order for us to be where we are today. But was/is is really necessary that Others be devastated by atrocities of the Dominant in order for the possibility of agency and subjectivity to arise? Did person/group a have to die or experience such violent acts in order for person/group b to become their subjective selves?Or for the possibility of others in group a to become their subjective selves? Should it really be considered that such things were done out of love? Or that love emerges from this?
Of course being on the receiving end of such acts has not helped with the trouble I've had and perhaps refusal in accepting this to be the case.
However, thanks to a friend another view of the violence/love juxtaposition is apparent (and I really need to read this book again). That of giving birth. Which brings forth the argument that what goes on with the characters of the book that took the needlessly violent route was meant as a cautionary tale. Considering one's becoming, instead, as the act of giving birth is one that conjoins the violence and pain brought on by the act and the emergence of love that results. Presumably the creation of this new life that is being given birth to is/was also an act of love.
I'll admit, it's difficult to see the emergence of agency/self-hood/subjectivity in this way; viewing a violent yet beautiful act, in such a positive light (which is easy enough to imagine having given birth) when the violent aspect is something one has been subjected to from external dominating forces (did that make any sense?). Maybe because my journey has been a painful one, filled with violence at times (as I'm certain Jazz points out about its characters). The work of striving toward self-hood, toward the use of agency, toward becoming a subjective being is difficult because of this historical pain and violence. Overcoming this is also painful, and efforts to do so can and often are misguided and misinterpret what it means to overcome (something Jazz also points out rather well).
This is one of the many things I am trying to figure out on this journey. Having encountered such a powerful piece has shown me that I have a lot to learn about what I am trying to do for myself. Growth, understanding, becoming who I am meant to be without needlessly bring harm to others, all the while trying to become infused with love so I can act in loving ways, it's a tough task that can seem vague at times given the directions I've gone and continue to go. I cannot seem to get away from the fact that it's going to be painful and perhaps violent, but if I imagine this as part of the process of giving birth...well it will take a while for this point of view to become my own given my experiences, but I'm willing to learn, whatever that may mean. It's not the first time I've been wrong about how I understand something...
Until next time
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