The Shadow

    Carl Jung, who is one of my favorite mystics, has helped me understand the psyche's shadow.  I've recently reminded myself how important it is to acknowledge, embrace, and forgive that part of me.  Some describe it as the part of us that helps us survive.  It is the part of us that is often suppressed, oppressed, and devalued.  This forum may be too public to share my shadow, but it is not too public to describe how I encounter it.

    My shadow has many qualities.  It is my vulgar side.  It is tenacious. It is stubborn.  It is enduring.  It is radically shameful.  I see it at times as embarrassing.  Mostly I can see my Shadow when I ponder about things I've done, want to do, or am doing. What follows is usually, "what did, do, and will people think of me".  It is the social awareness that has caused me to suppress behaviors, thoughts, and feelings that through life have had the wildness beaten out or have had thier wings clipped.

    My shadow is also a part of me that can be great.  My shadow can help me be magnificent.  I am working on seeing beyond the shameful and stinky stereotype I have assigned to my shadow.  I am trying to understand it.  I am trying to work with it.  Can those parts of me that have remained in the shadows now be understood enough to involve them in ways that contribute to a healthier Ron?  Fuck Yeah!

Torn but not ragged

Happy Fourth of July all,  Right now I am with two impressive people on our way to climb a 14er.  I am writing this on Tuesday the 3rd.
We ask for God to Bless America.  God blesses all countries but my wish is that we start looking for God's Blessings more than we ask for God's blessings.  I think they are always present.
I am tuned into a term used by my grandmother. Constitution; the physical character of the body as to strength, health, etc. I am grateful for the privilege I have that allows me to develop and cultivate my constitution.  This country allows for human creativity.  This country gives anyone a fighting chance.  This country does not provide equality, but it does not prohibit it.  I love this country, because it allows the beauty of humanity to shine and it moderates the evil that people can reveal.  I love this country because it allows each of us the opportunity to determine for ourselves what is beautiful, evil, or both.  We are a grouping of humans that is softening the ridged experiences of life.  I am proud to be part of an American country.  I am grateful to the lineage of people who have developed, destroyed, and preserved the ability for us to create.  Like other and every country this country is great and I am proud of our struggle and progress.  May God Bless America.  May God Forgive America. Thank you America for Blessing me.

Voices...all voices

Having two daughter's, losing a wife, and becoming aware of male privilege has altered my appreciation, or lack of appreciation for the woman's contribution.  Most men would be quick to honor their mother.  Most husbands would be quick to appreciate the relationship they have with their wife.  I think the admiration slows down from here.  I am becoming aware of an obvious yet accepted prejudice towards woman.  I am slowly becoming aware of how I have and still contribute to it.  Altering my perceptions, attitudes, and behaviors is difficult. Enjoy the critical perspective that helps reveal our(masculine) imperfections.

Fatherhood

A special responsibility I have is being a father. It has forced me to encounter the father I wanted. It has forced me to value the fathers I have. It has forced me to forgive the fathers that failed me. It is asking me to love not only my daughters but the little boy still living inside.

I wrote this while in the midst of my divorce. I was in a dark space, a sacred space. A space where I began the process of becoming a man, and along with it the task of being the best father I can. Happy Fathers Day.

A Boy's Death
“I hate my Dad” as tears fall from my eyes. The love a boy has for his father likely hides behind these words. “I'm embarrassed of you”. Again words cover the love a boy has for a lover. Such a charming facade I can hold, but sadness teaches me to be cold.

A boy doesn't trust the miscues or life's love tools. Mom tucked those skills deep within, maybe so her boy will never go. What puts him on the quest for “It”? A call, a lashing, a prayer, a fall? More like loosing it all!

A boy’s love is lured to the conscience for a soft kiss. A boy’s love is stretched thin by lies, praise, and the gaze. I will stack my trophies for all to see.  "It" says you can't  impress me. Each step towards success is distance I put between “It”.

A race well run but for what? I've won the race of contradiction. To the bottom when I was told it was the top. In my search for love I lost it all. I was anxiously greeted by death.

I feel discomfort and pain. Mommy can’t help, but its similar to pain she once felt. Birth! Into the belly but not hers!

Alone on the dark journey using nothing but my broken and misguiding compass, calibrated by my emotions and fear. With a whisper to guide me , I start anxiously by running. It is cold and dark; hot and stuffy; My sweat burns and blisters burst. Fatigue sets in and weakens me, forcing me to sit. The whisper calls “It is here”.

Stillness and fright are a result of my fight! With the little arrogance I had left I ask “Who are you"? “I am” the whisper replies. Knowing my time had come I resisted and foolishly cried out “I…AM….NOT….READY”. “You are not, but I am”. “I don’t belong” I reply with pity. “You have always been” is softly sung.

A blow to my groin, I see my blood. Death’s grip tightens around my ego with each slow and syrupy drop. Lying in agony and pain without dignity I ask “what did I do wrong”? Joyfully the whisper sings “enough for me to find you”.

It’s in the transformation of a boy to a man where death's beauty can be experienced. Transformed for a moment he has been shown what love is. It is like cool refreshing water on a thirsty man's lips.

Love is painful, endures all, is kind and gentle, is the truth, is without deceit, is forgiving, and is a gift from God to a boy. When the boy takes that gift and gives it away to all, he can call himself a “MAN”.

Hasta La Victoria Siempre

Che is not admired by all, and his beliefs might be difficult to endure. I think it is those that have the most to lose materially that tend to drive these thoughts. The perspective of the privileged has grief too. Che recognized imbalance, enough to create hate. He murdered and ordered thousands of people dead. Can these hate crimes be ratified, not likely.  Was it sport? This might be seen as recreation and some might see it as a consequence of exploitation. When you bully a dignified person, you will get punched back, despite winning the fight.  For many years the profits and capital gains American Corporations raised though business deals and projects led to the disenfranchising of many cultures.  This resulted in poverty.  During the Cuban revolution many who fled in hate of Che were the privileged, many who were killed were pawns of the privileged, and those who continue to resist are the privileged.
These folks are unwilling to lose their luxury.  It is time to apologize with action and reconciliation.  What we as a nation are willing to give are words and donations.  I think the suffering and death of luxury is painful. Luxury is a human quality, that distracts me from my existential responsibility. This round of felicidades are to forgive the dark side of the man "Che".  He was a killer, he took on the viscous face of anger and revenge.  He believed in something not only to die for, but unfortunately to kill for.  I have to say that when I visited Guatemala it was easy to see who would welcome equality and who would resist having to be equal.

Reason

This is a really thoughtful and gentle look at injustice, race, class, & culture. Malcom Gladwell has helped me get/find a foothold on the concept of social grace.

Grace

I find that I get worked up over injustice.  I try to be balanced and more often get caught up in the romance of the under dog fight ... the good fight.  As I get older I see how there are so many good fights.  I see how peoples perceptions about what the good fight might be differs, making each of our fights that much more complicated.  Is "fair" equally just another perception?
While sitting down to take a break, I came across some literature about grace. If social justice has been a feature of my life, in order to be balanced I think I need social grace as well.  So I have found that grace is forgiveness.  It is forgiveness without an apology.  It is an act of recognizing the divine dignity in my enemies.  It is not tolerance.  It is not the sacrifice of ideas, respect, or principles.  And I am not certain what it can be, but I am sure it is a component to healing myself and the communities I belong to.