Small glimpses into the diversity of forms
that living from the heart of who we
most wholly are can look like...
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| With Max, July 2024 |
Max
It was a beautiful summer day last week when I went to Powell's Books in Portland to pick up more books that I couldn't wait to read. And before I entered the store, I looked across the street and thought I recognized someone. I approached him and asked, "What's your name?" He smiled and said, "Max."
"Max!," I exclaimed. "I'm Molly. We met a few years back before Covid." "Oh, yes, I remember!" And we smiled and hugged.
I was so happy to see Max. He was alive! It had been five years since I last saw him out on the same street corner selling copies of Street Roots. I'd spoken with Max more than once at that time, learned about his homelessness, and was so moved by his story that I did a blog post about Max and the larger picture of trauma and tragedy, poverty and inequity, and daily painful struggle that he and so many others have long been swept up in.
And then Covid hit. Powell's shut down as did just about everything else. And my heart ached for the whole of the houseless population and everyone else who were most devastated by the epidemic. And I wondered if Max survived. I knew that he was among the highest risk populations.
And, yet, here he was looking a bit older and with more of a beard. And my heart was happy and even happier as Max told me that he now has his own place and has two kitties that he was given as his companions. And Max shared that he's been out on this corner for ten years now selling Street Roots, less those during the Covid shutdowns.
Before I moved on, a nice passerby took this picture of Max and me. Others walked by and smiled. Just imagine if we all felt this connectedness and caring with and for our fellow humans. Just imagine...
"Then it was as if I secretly saw the secret
beauty of their hearts.... If only we could
see each other that way all the time...
I suppose the big problem would be
that we would fall down and
worship each other."
— Thomas Merton
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| A precious moment with my mom, fall of 2019 |
When the Impossible Became Possible
I've been thinking about and missing my mom. It's now been four years since her death at the age of 94. Over those last couple of years of her life, and with my husband and myself no longer being capable of safely doing her transfers, Mom became confined to her assisted living facility. Our moments together grew increasingly simple. And precious.
We were down to the basics of what it is to treasure each other and the time we had left together. After sharing a meal at her assisted living, I would often grab my mother's sunglasses and special blanket and bundle her up. Then I'd wheel her out to the garden area of Glenwood Place. Over those weeks and months, we spent hours cuddled up together, holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes, feeling gentle breezes, listening to birds, and watching new life and color and beauty emerge in the springtime. And I would feel my mom's breath and feel her skin and the ever so subtle movements within her body. And Mom would say, "It's so peaceful. It's so peaceful." All to be treasured. Every moment.
As some of you are also aware, none of this was supposed to be possible. My mother had experienced a lifetime of unaddressed trauma which, as an adult, manifested in alcoholism, anxiety and major depression, the full cluster B personality disorders, pushing away the vulnerability that is required to receive and give love, an inability to experience compassion and empathy, and the deep suppression of her trauma which ultimately resulted in the end stage of 80+ years of repressed emotions — Alzheimer's. (Gabor Mate writes about the connection between Alzheimer's and extended patterns of repressed emotions - something I had long suspected - in his brilliant book When the Body Says No - https://www.amazon.com/When-Body-Says-No-Hidden/dp/178504222X.)
My poor mama. I will always hold a place in my heart of deep sadness and grief for my mother's nearly lifelong losses. And mine. And those of my brother and father...
AND, even through it all and, critically, with years of deep healing work, over time my heart grew more and more open, conscious, receptive, compassionate, and loving — including towards my mother. This was no small feat. There had been years of estrangement, years of being the target of great cruelty, and many years of rage and grief and trauma that I needed to face, feel, heal, and transform.
And there was the deep work related to my mother's extreme cruelty and rejection of my brother that was largely at the root of my twin's suicide in 1978. I also knew that my dad's immune system was incredibly compromised after living with the toxicity of my mother's illness for 27 years and knowing that he did not have the strength and resilience to heal and recover from Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and pneumonia, which killed him at the age 60. There was also my mother's rejection of my three sons, her only grandchildren. And there was so much more that could have filled me with my own lifelong rage and resentment and bitterness and other forms of unhealed trauma. I could have said fuck you and never turned back.
But I didn't. I engaged in the hard work of healing generations of trauma that had been passed on to me. And everything within myself and my life was gradually shifting, opening, healing, and being transformed.
Then in 2013, and after a nearly year long legal battle (with a former family member who was after her money) to bring her home to her family, at the age of 87 my mother moved to live here near me in the Pacific Northwest. And the miracles began.
There had been the reality of my first mother, the one capable of great brutality. And now, gradually, a second mom was being born. She was no longer drinking. She was prescribed antipsychotic medication. There was also just enough memory loss to forget what she had done and the experiences that would have been unbearable for my mother to remember. And as the hold of her mental illness loosened its brutal grip on her heart, what began to emerge was what my mother had covered over and buried beneath her narcissism, alcoholism, and projections.
Self-loathing is the hallmark of anyone who brutalizes others.
And I seized the opportunity that my mother's self-loathing presented me with. Again and again and again I showered my mom with love. And each time she'd tell me, "I'm so much trouble" — which goes back to feeling like she was so much trouble for her own mother — I'd give my mom a different narrative, a different experience to take into her body and absorb. "Mama, you're not trouble. You are my treasure." And her face muscles would relax and a smile would sweep across her face as she gazed into my eyes soaking in the truth of how she has always been worthy of love.
Over the last seven years of her life, my mom and I were able to experience an increasingly mutually loving relationship. The profound miracle of this cannot be overstated. Although my mother's connection with Self — or the Divinity within, Christ consciousness, Buddha nature, Spirit, Mystery, Creator, or whatever you may call the Sacred within us — was just partial, she experienced enough access to the depths of her being to open a channel to Love.
My mother is the most profound example, to me, which confirms that underneath even the most brutal people we may know there is this indwelling Self which cannot be damaged, cannot be wounded, and is always at the core of who we are.
And this is so very true — Love is always the most powerful medicine. If we can heal and open our hearts...
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| My mother's headstone at Riverview Cemetery, Portland, Oregon |
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| My dad holds my brother and myself on the front porch of our home on Harcourt, 1951 |
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| 745 Harcourt, Grosse Pointe Park, Michigan |
Returning to the Land of
My Childhood and Ancestors
One week from now I will once again be walking the land of my childhood and ancestors. My husband and I will be returning to Michigan for my 55th high school class reunions. We will also be visiting with family and friends, which I very much look forward to.
And each journey to Michigan is more than that. It is always a pilgrimage, an experience of further integration of healing and peace and the deepest compassion and love for my family, for all of our ancestors, and for myself.
After having moved to the Pacific Northwest in 1975, it was 1989 when I returned to Michigan for the first time in sobriety. My 20th high school class reunion was also the first one I attended. And thoughts of my brother ached within my heart. John was also part of the graduating class of 1969 from Grosse Pointe High School. And my twin ended his life before his 27th birthday.
Although I was 5 years sober and had been doing some childhood healing work over those years, my connection with my Self was still tenuous and fragile. Yet, I knew that I needed to return to all the places of my childhood — the homes and schools, Lake St. Claire and Orchard Lake, and more. And now Pine Lake Cemetery in West Bloomfield where my dad and brother and other paternal relatives are buried. I just knew that I had to do this.
It was overwhelming returning to the land of my childhood while experiencing being more in my body than I had ever been during my first 24 years of life when Michigan was home to me. I had survived by disassociating, drinking, smoking, rebelling, and escaping in every way that I could the unbearable trauma that I lived and which remained buried deep in my body.
As I first drove my rental car down Thorn Tree Road, where my parents had built their second home and where I lived from 6-18, I became totally flooded with emotion. And all I could do was sob and sob while I kept going past this old family home — a house that had held so much pain and trauma that I hadn't allowed myself to feel at the time.
Again, this pain doesn't go away. It resides in our bodies... until we root into a sacred path of healing, unburdening, transformation, and love.
The next day I went back, parked my car, and knocked on the door of 563 Thorn Tree Road. And I was welcomed inside...
The older woman who bought the first home my parents built on Harcourt Road in Grosse Pointe Park also warmly welcomed me into her home. And she remembered me from from 32 years earlier when she had purchased this house from my parents and I was just 6 years old. Many miracles, large and small, happened on that trip in 1989.
There have been several pilgrimages since then. Again and again I return to my childhood homes and the homes of my grandparents. I've been inside them all and sometimes more than once. I also go to the shores of our old family beach and swim in Orchard Lake, the lake where my brother and I swam along with my dad and his siblings — and my paternal grandparents and great-grandparents and great-great grandparents. And there are flowers to be taken to Pine Lake Cemetery and to Woodlawn Cemetery. And I sit on the shores of Lake St. Clair.
And today I am strong. I have grown into my name. And I am so eternally grateful that I have been able to take all of the different parts of my childhood self back to Michigan wrapped in the protective, loving arms of my Self... allowing for the ongoing integration of a whole different experience and ever deepening and transformative healing. I can cry. I can be grateful. I can appreciate the beauty of this land of my childhood and ancestors. And I am increasingly free.
Free of fear and rage and shame and blame and bitterness. Free at last to grieve and to experience gratitude, joy, compassion, clarity, connection, and peace. And while this is an ongoing lifetime process, it is also true that with each year of my life I am increasingly free of generations of trauma that had been unknowingly passed on and passed on and passed on. And, in the midst of it all, I am free to experience and hold and love more and more of all of my parts — embodying with love the wholeness of who I am. This journey of going home — Michigan will always be the home of my childhood and my ancestors — is, in its essence, just one more part of my path of homecoming to my Self.
There are countless profound gifts discovered through the dismantling of the obstacles to love — ones that we've unknowingly inherited and built within ourselves — and instead gradually opening to embodying more and more of the whole of who we all are. No two people will walk the same path and there are infinite forms that this deep and transformative healing work can take on. What is clear is that within each and every one of us is this Self which is connected to all that is Holy and Sacred.
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| My brother and myself on the shores of Orchard Lake, 1954 |
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A Ray of Light
These stories I've shared are about much more than me alone. They are but glimpses into a much larger picture, the implications of which are rich with potential for shared healing, awakening, and a growing evolution and deepening of compassion, wisdom, and love within ourselves as individuals and collectively as families, couples, communities, nations and the planet.
I envision a world where more and more of us will be rooted into paths of healing and wholeness which empower us to embrace and transform the obstacles to our wholeness as sacred human beings.
In our country alone there are epidemics of addiction, depression and anxiety, dehumanization and violence, and belief systems and actions which keep us separate from others and from our own wisdom. We can do something about this both as individuals and by working and collaborating together.
I have experienced that this journey of befriending and loving myself and all of my many parts has led me directly into an ever deepening connection with my Self. Again, this is what I experience to be the sacred core of who we all are. And, thus, the implications extend way beyond myself.
As Lissa Rankin has written, Mark Nepo eloquently describes our Self in this way — “Each person is born with an unencumbered spot, free of expectation and regret, free of ambition and embarrassment, free of fear and worry; an umbilical spot of grace where we were each first touched by God. It is this spot of grace that issues peace. Psychologists call this spot the Psyche, Theologians call it the Soul, Jung calls it the Seat of the Unconscious, Hindu masters call it Atman, Buddhists call it Dharma, Rilke calls it Inwardness, Sufis call it Qalb, and Jesus calls it the Center of our Love.”
Just imagine a world where increasing numbers of human beings were doing the deep work of unburdening ourselves from the legacy burdens long carried by both our ancestors and also embedded in our patriarchal, rugged individualist, white supremacist, capitalist culture.
Just imagine how we and our world will be transformed when more and more of us come to increasingly embody the eight C's of IFS (Internal Family Systems) which Richard Schwartz illuminates are inherent to the Self within us all:
- Compassion
- Confidence
- Courage
- Creativity
- Connectedness
- Calmness
- Curiosity
- Clarity
The IFS model — and others which recognize and honor the Divinity within us all — is a deeply spiritual one. The core recognition is that within each human being is a wise center, or Self, that cannot be damaged, wounded, or harmed. Ruptures to attachment and other forms of trauma can impair or sever our connection with Self. And this can be healed. Trauma, even deep and profound trauma, can be healed and transformed. I am among countless living examples of that.
There are many books, YouTube videos, therapists, and other resources which can empower us to heal, unburden, and transform both little t trauma and Big T trauma. This is but one among countless other videos illuminating this process:
Dr. Lissa Rankin is yet another person who brings a wealth of wisdom, experience, and support to those of us on our journeys of healing and awakening. And as she writes here, IFS alone is a game changer for medicine, psychiatry, and the spiritual path: https://mollystrongheart.blogspot.com/2024/07/excellent-dr-lissa-rankin-internal.html.
I highlight these as additional glimpses into what is accessible today. Cutting edge trauma therapy and other resources are spreading across our country and the world. The work of Richard Schwartz, Lissa Rankin, Gabor Maté, Jeffrey Rediger, and others are transforming how it is that we respond to our woundedness as human beings. This evolution is non-shaming, non-pathologizing, and instead recognizes the pain that underlies our human struggles, our addictions and depression and anxiety, and the medical issues that often arise out of untreated trauma.
There is now a growing awareness of how it is that our buried pain is what must be seen, understood, and responded to with compassion and deep understanding of the mind-body connection and trauma. Even the long held disease model of addiction is being thrown out the window. This is highlighted in this video interview with Gabor Maté, Richard Schwartz, and Marc Lewis:
This is all great news. I mean really great news. I have experienced going down many rabbit holes that did not help me to deeply heal, and too often actually caused more harm. This has also been painfully true for my family and several friends and others I know. So many things, I have learned the hard way. But I have learned.
And now I get to shine these bright rays of light.
There is more hope today than ever before for healing of ourselves, of our loved ones, and well beyond. We can heal from our mistaken beliefs that we are inherently unworthy of love, which is the root of so much endless suffering, dehumanization, disconnection, violence, illness, and death.
We cannot dehumanize another human being when we are connected with our Self. Because we recognize the Self in others, and no matter how buried one's Sacred core appears to be. It is still there. Waiting to be seen, embraced, and honored.
And from this place of connection with Self, it is that wholeness that we can offer to all that we hold precious and dear. And we can go on to extend lovingkindness out into the world... like to the Max's we may encounter on the streets. The opportunities to act as Bodhisattvas, working to alleviate the suffering of other beings wherever we may find them, are endless.
This is the good news. The larger picture and the ray of light. The hope for us all.
Blessings to you and to us all on our journeys,
💗
Molly
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