How we Blame
Some states of the United States have implemented laws to address school bullying. Law prohibits bullying of students based on sexual orientation and gender identity Law prohibits bullying of students based on sexual orientation School regulation or ethical code for teachers that address bullying of students based on sexual orientation Law prohibits bullying in school but lists no categories of protection No statewide law that specifically prohibits bullying in schools (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I’m all for the fight against bullying. I wasn’t a popular kid when I was younger. For most of my puberty plagued youth, I was the kid that was lucky if her socks matched. I can’t say that I can fairly relate to those of our youth whom are actually considered bullied to the extent that we hear about today, but I am certainly no stranger to the cruelty amongst our younger, more vulnerable, generation. It’s easy to shrug it off and say, well, who didn’t hate high school? It’s easy to look at a rebellious youth who no longer wants to go to school, and think, I remember feeling the same way. If it were easy to even get a word about how the day went out of a teenager, it might seem like an obvious sign when suddenly there is nothing to tell. I certainly was that way as a teenager. The most popular word at that age is, “nothing”. Nothing happened, there’s nothing to tell – just another day of high school. For the most part, that was all true, so I’m hard pressed to fault parents, or teachers, or anyone doing the asking when the total amount of what they know about their kids day, is a whole lot of nothing. Continue reading
We’ve made a rather risky decision in adding this feature page to the blog, but without the leap – potential is lost.
The Wall of Reflections will be a page dedicated to reflecting on our untold truths, a space to host these confessions.
Why? Not because we believe there is pride in displaying what lies we’ve told. Not to exploit the wrong doings of others or to even expose anyone personally for their mistakes. No – the purpose is very simple and the intent entirely focused on facing our own struggle with the truths about ourselves.
It is important to understand that we believe self-awareness is significant in the process of coming to a more honest way of life. Acceptance and forgiveness are key elements in becoming aware of ourselves and the lies around us in order to change the habitually self-defeating acts of stretching the truth – and that requires confronting those lies we either tell ourselves or know we are feeding others. Sometimes these are minute and go virtually unnoticed. Other times these may be far bigger than we want to admit and yet we cannot overcome the shame and forgive ourselves nor let go of the fear we may feel about exposing a truth – especially if it is one that has stayed with us for a long time. Something we want to stop being a lie to ourselves and those in our lives. Continue reading
Imagine with me for a moment…
A vast staircase before you leading to the top of a veranda that overlooks the most desired place you’d like to visit one day. This is your staircase. The details of your staircase can look any way you want to imagine this setting: black-iron, narrow and spiraling into a vertical twist that seamlessly reaches into a secret urban loft…
A grande, almost regal and broad stepped swirl of marble, and white that gracefully sweeps upward to a terrace overlooking the water…
A smokey and soft, almost animated stream of loose and puffy steps ascending in a transient fog that appears at any time, space, or moment you desire it…
Perhaps it leads nowhere certain – a secret on purpose like a mystery grab bag, marked only by intrigue, wonder, unsuspecting and unexpected.
You don’t need to know the final destination or convince yourself of some fairytale awaiting you at the very top. The real purpose of whatever you envision your staircase to be is to become aware of your desire to be comfortable with the truth, to face it, to accept yourself and the world around you – to fearlessly discover your own path to truth and simply – climb, one step at a time – to living it.
Here’s the truth: everybody lies. We lie to our boss when we’re running late because we over-slept and don’t want to disclose the real reason we’ll be in late. We lie to our partners, our children, our parents, our co-workers – we lie to ourselves. Sometimes a lie can seem completely justified, such as telling our kids to believe in Santa Claus and justifying it with, they are just children and that is what the spirit of the holiday is about – magic, and wonder, and a fat man in a red suit that brings presents to all the good children of the world.
I can neither agree nor disagree and though everyone will have their own way of relating to this particular forgivable lie – for me, this was the first lie I can remember. I was devastated and not because Santa turned out to be a hoax. I was literally crushed and angry at my parents because of the big fat lie they had been telling us for years after so many moral lessons about the virtue of being honest. I was ten years old when I found out it wasn’t true and it was then that I learned there are certain lies that we don’t consider horrible, or that make us dishonest. It’s also a memory I have never forgotten. Does that make it wrong?
I can’t say for sure nor criticize the point of allowing your kids to believe in Santa, but I do find it interesting how much it stands out in my mind. To be honest, I could’ve given a shit about Santa by that point. However, I totally thought my parents were assholes for the first time in my life, and was completely confused to say the least by everything I’d ever been told was right up until then.
Having really thought about this and the fact that we are not born understanding how or why we should lie, its curious to me now where the line is drawn.
How do people do it? We are all so different, and in contrast we stand out to the point that even if the things that are shared in common are as similar as they can be – the diversity will still shine out the place where we meet. How we relate to one another – maintain any consistency at all in our friendships, our relationships – how does it last through so much change? How is anything really genuine; how do we depend on it? How do you stay true to who you are, what matters, and survive those connections, which feel as equally important? If the people that come into our lives do for a purpose, to teach us something, to help us achieve something within ourselves, then we must be responsible for how we choose to use it; let things go and love again; see how and why we stop being true to ourselves… Is that why there’s pain? Because cutting away leaves a wound?
How do we survive each other?
It is said that as we grow, we lose what needs to be let go, in order to come to something better. But people don’t just lose those things, we don’t just lose what doesn’t matter. It’s not always the things we’ve outgrown. Not every time. People can lose everything and in turn lose their faith. Were they meant to lose it? What if they lose a piece of themselves? What if it was all they had left – what then? What happens to those people: do they stop believing in anything, never leave their houses, never have love, never fill what they lost with something learned, something new? Isn’t the point to grow, and improve? There can’t be no purpose at all – what’s the point?
How do we survive ourselves?
“truth journal” (Photo credit: peregrine blue)
The Truth Journal is going to be an important part of this blog for one fairly simple reason: we can’t tell the truth if first we do not see it. Its hard enough to admit what we do not want to see, and sometimes there is good enough reason not to. Life is grande, sure, but the reality of the world we live life in can be pretty ugly sometimes.
Take for example how we cope with grief. When my sister was killed suddenly in a car crash in 1999, even after attending her funeral, even after watching my parents become different people after grieving the loss of their child, even after all the old photos, memories, and stories had been dragged out and put away again – I believed for at least a year after she was gone that if I picked up the phone and called, there she would be on the other end of the line. It seems unfathomable sometimes – the plain, hard truth: she was gone forever, and I would never see her, or hear her voice again.
Obviously, I knew she was dead. I had literally pulled her ashes from the cardboard box she came back from morgue in (new skin) with my bare hands the day we scattered them. A box no bigger than one that might hold a large snow globe housed the remains of her entire body, and that was all that remained of her. Even so, I still somehow, in a way I can’t describe, could tell myself she’d answer. Though I never called, I think that maybe I could cope better with the shock of it all when I could let myself be appeased in that thought, which is exactly why I did. I could even hear her voice, and there was some numb comfort in that even though it was not at all the truth. Continue reading