Ninth Elegy

Ally in Mumbles

Originally uploaded by Phil Rose

This past weekend I attended a poetry workshop that featured the work of Pablo Neruda, only to discover my inner critic is still alive and well as I tried to read freshly written first draft poems to people I’d met that day! The workshop was led by Lorraine Healy, a wonderful poet (and photographer) from Argentina whose passion and gift for teaching became apparent right away. I knew very little about Neruda’s life, and had only read a few of his poems, and of course, I’ve seen the movie…. Through Lorraine’s teaching the poet was enlivened, and his deep humanity and love for the ordinary touched my heart…however…

Faced with reading my poems aloud to strangers stirred something else. Having worked consciously and diligently on my inner critic for some years now, I found my critical beast still quite healthy with regard to my writing. I felt its weight, its heaviness and hold on me, and its smothering quality as words seized up in my fingers before I could even get them to the page. Surprised by this, I began to wonder about why this strong hold still exists in this particular part of my life. And part of what I realized was that I was actively comparing myself to others in the workshop, sizing myself up–”well, maybe I’m not as good as her, but I think I’m better than…” I started to notice how this protective voice was overwhelming my ability to focus on what I was doing, what I wanted to say. I was editing as I was writing, thinking about how others would read it, forgetting my connection with the content and heart of what I wanted to say.

And then we read Neruda’s Ode to Criticism. Although Neruda was probably speaking of actual criticisms his body of work received, I took great comfort in his description of how his writing and its movement was held: from simple writing, through the misguided products of critique, and then back to the simple writing again, once the hoopla had settled. Neruda described his writing as ordinary objects to be used and lived in and slept with and fondled and loved. He described how distorted all of this became when the writing itself was under scrutiny by critics such as “The English,” and the scholars, and all of the academic posturing that we still endure, to this day, when critics get their hands on something, shredding it with their intellectual acuity, destroying what may have had tenderness, and heart, and feeling…using, of course, the elite language and popular phrases of the day to do so.

And isn’t this what we do to ourselves? Before we can just enjoy our natural impulses and inclinations, our inner critic lights up and bends over us and begins to shred our tender offerings. So of course our defenses rise–well, I’m better than so and so, at least, or I didn’t sleep well last night, or fill in the blank–our excuses come to rescue us from this bare assault.

So what did Neruda do in this poem, and in his life? This is my perspective on it so far:

1. He recognized the simplicity of his offering, his life, and his work. He embraced the ordinary, and loved it as something exceptional and worthy.

2. (I’m fairly certain) he didn’t make comparisons. He humbly accepted exactly what he had to give as something unique to him, and beautiful.

3. He found a way to creatively challenge his critics, channeling their confused interpretations into his own work and providing himself an outlet that way. And he simply listed their confusion–he didn’t argue with it, or engage it. He illustrated what happened, then moved on.

4. He didn’t let them stop him from writing. He wrote prolifically. He listened to himself, and not to them.

5. Rather than placing himself above his critics or readers, he let his writing deepen his humanity and compassion. He set the tone and rules for his writing. He believed in it with all of his heart, and served the people rather than the critics. Doing so, he showed us that intention and love is more important than attempting to please the literati or academics.

6. He revolutionized poetry.

To sum up, especially the last point, throwing off our inner critic is an act of disobedience–it is subversion. Slowing down, noticing life, and daring to write what we see is counter to our efficient and driven culture. It is a turning toward ourselves, taking time to be with what is most important. We create space in ourselves and in our lives. We allow ourselves to be, and we dare to think what we scrawl onto the page is worthy. All of my life, I’ve written under this critical gaze, and have managed to write in-spite-of it. Armed now, with Neruda’s poem, I think it’s going to go easier for me. I can post it somewhere near where I write, and remember, no matter what, this writing is ordinary, daily, and as absolutely necessary as food. It deserves to be held and treated with respect, given its voice and its due. It doesn’t have to be brilliant in the eyes of anyone else. It just has to be.

This is a guest blog by Damien Riley, MA.

I’m writing to you today to change your life. It’s not a book I’m selling or a get rich quick scheme. These things might change some people’s lives but not all. Instead, I’m bringing you psychology that is universally beneficial. What I give you today is the idea of cognitive strategies as a tool to help you get along with others better. I chose to illustrate it through neighbors today because #1) If you blog, you have neighbors and I know about 50% who read my writing are bloggers themselves. and #2) Most everyone has next door neighbors and other people who live close as denizens of an area and we need to deal with conflict there from time to time. Real Life Case Scenario from my Life (I like those for illustrations, maybe you can fill in the blanks and compare to your own):

We just moved into a new house in a cul-de-sac. Neighbor left rents rooms to many 20-somethings and as a results has cars blocking the mailbox; same with neighbor right. That’s a CAUSE. Here’s the result: Our mail isn’t being delivered and we get notes from the mail-carrier stating the mailbox was blocked. Not cool. We feel angry because we want our mail and often we get checks in the mail, things like ebay etc. How should we deal with this? Oh, one more thing … the neighbors on both sides seem pretty rough and tough and not exactly “approachable” (though I could be wrong).

A physical reaction would be to write a nasty note and put it in their mailbox (I almost did this). A cognitive strategy would be to imagine the other’s point of view and think about what to do for a day.

In this situation, after a day the mail carrier came to my door and we were able to get the carrier to go to the neighbor’s door and explain the mailbox needed to be clear. Since then there has been no parking there and we get our mail like clockwork. Can you imagine the possible issues that could have resulted if I wrote the nasty note? Take the high road and wait with your neighbor issues, sometimes the solution comes to you.

I write about cognitive strategies for life quite often at my blog. In addition, I also have an online diary where it’s 100% from my life (click with caution! he he). I hope you’ll stop by some time. I usually close these with a question to start some discussion. I hope you’ll participate: How would you say it looks to be kind and wait before reacting?

‘Emily Warn is one tough poet. . . . She not only takes on God but also juggles the hot coals of memory and wrestles her way to an honest spiritual life.’-The Seattle Times

To invent the alef-beit,
decipher the grammar of crows,
read a tangle of bare branches
with vowels of the last leaves
scrawling their jittery speech
on the sky’s pale page.
-E. Warn

I’ve never done this before, but because this relates directly to the content of my blog, thought I’d spread the word about this great looking workshop for writers and practitioners of Zen. I’ve known Jack Duffy for more than 10 years, and I can vouch for his integrity–if he backs this person, I’m also behind this. (See the link for Three Treasures Sangha)

Intimate Language: Writing Zen into Life
September 13-14
Saturday, 9:30am-5pm
Sunday, 9:30–1:30pm

THIS IS A WEEKEND OF WRITING AND ZAZEN FOR THOSE WHO HAVE EITHER A WRITING PRACTICE AND/OR A MEDITATION PRACTICE. There will be writing and writing exercises interspersed with sitting meditation and instruction.

The writing retreat will be at Mountain Lamp, Deming, Washington which sits in the foothills of Mt. Baker. Call 360-592-0600 or email ml-info@mountainlamp.org for more information and to register.

The retreat will be led by Emily Warn whose third book, Shadow Architect, has recently been published by Copper Canyon Press. Her essays and poems appear in Poetry, Parabola, The Seattle Times, The Kenyon Review, Blackbird, The Bloomsbury Review and The Writer’s Almanac. She is the Webby Award-winning editor for PoetryFoundation.org

Jack Duffy is a dharma heir of Robert Aitken Roshi. He has been teaching Zen for over 15 years and is the guiding teacher of Three Treasures Sangha in Seattle, the Zen Group of Spokane, and the Zen Center of the Palouse. He lives at Mountain Lamp, a lay Buddhist practice center.

Cost: $150 ($100 for members of TTS or Circle of Friends)
Bring your own lunch
This is a non-residential retreat but folks can make arrangements to spend the evening at Mountain Lamp.

Share and Enjoy: These icons link to social bookmarking sites where readers can share and discover new web pages.

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

This morning I was appreciating the swallows nesting near our house, which is not far from a mosquito infested lagoon. I’d read that their young brood, which they are busily feeding right now, eat about 900 insects a day. Watching the parents swoop in and out of the nest, and the hundreds of other swallows that network across the field between us and the lagoon, my gratitude for their hungry nestlings overcame any annoyance I may have over the constant white droppings of poo on my car and sidewalks, front door, and well—it’s everywhere! It also has me appreciating parenthood—and what mothers will do for their young, no matter what the circumstances! My mother, I know, has always worried about me, been concerned for my survival, and has made efforts whenever she could to help me in my life.

When our book came out, I worried how my mother would read it—I really didn’t want it to come off with her sounding bad, or feeling badly about what was written. Making a decision about what to put in the book and leave out was very difficult for me (not so much for my editor, who always pushed me to “leave it in!”). The pieces of memory that came up for me felt real and significant, but my fear was that people might read the book and think it was some sort of static truth, when in fact, it’s meant to process an experience as it happened. Some of the experiences are distorted, and some are just hard for any parent to hear.

After reading the book, apparently it tugged at her own past pain, because my mother began to email me about some of her memories, and of course, her impressions of the book. It occurred to me that book readers might like to be filled in on the afterlife events the book stirred. Mom and I discussed it, and decided to share what’s happening with us on this blog. We can continue this in the discussion thread. Of course it makes most sense to those who’ve read the book.So here is an actual email exchange with her own words on the subject.

Mom’s first email:

I’m somewhat bemused by the fact you felt so disconnected to me as a child. I thought I had shown you how much I loved you–maybe not in so many words, although I thought I had said it. And don’t you remember how we had to go through the routine every night of butterfly kisses and shaking hands, etc.?

We had an assignment in Lifescapes to tell what our mothers would say about us today. I couldn’t do it, because my Mother never talked to me about anything meaningful. She told me she loved me once–the day of your wedding, when she had been into the champagne pretty good. You said you would tug at me and say “Mom, Mom, Mom” and I would get irritated and snap at you. My mother would just zone out. Maybe I turned into my mother. My dad talked to me, but it was no dialogue–just a monologue about his view of the world. I was not happy with Ron [her husband, my father], for manyreasons. I knew there were things that were not right about our relationship. For one thing, he was not supportive of me. He was /so/ self-centered. Now I find he had many affairs, and even talked to the boys [her sons, my brothers] about them. And he never got over the girl who dumped him in Silver Creek. As you know, he wrote to her before he died trying to rekindle that, but she gave him a gentle turndown. So I suspect all through our marriage he resented me for getting in the way of his pursuing her. …

I remember the incident with the guy behind us. I wanted your dad to confront the guy, but I can’t remember what happened. His wife committed suicide some time after that. Maybe she caught him with a sitter. I don’t think you ever got paid for that job. You told me about J… molesting Paula, but I don’t think I knew he was fondling you as well until long after the fact. I know M. (Paula’s mother) was in complete denial and got sick over it–remember her curling up and going to bed?

And Bxxx’s dad beat her mom. Such a creep. I think she had a much better life after she left him. I think the rest of the people on the street were pretty normal, whatever that is.

When I was younger than 10, my friend S’s father would take us to the pool. We changed to our suits in the back seat, and I could tell he was trying to see. One time I was at her house and he wanted to play hide and seek. He got me into a closet and rubbed against me–I could feel his erection. I was so scared I ran away as soon as I could and went home. I don’t think I ever went in her house again.

When we lived in Albuquerque, the guy next door was running around on his wife, and so was another guy down the street. I was so naive at that time I couldn’t believe such things were true! I was sure it didn’t happen in my family, but now I wonder about Uncle H.. He was such a lecher. Propositioned me once when I went to visit him in W. Seneca. I was shocked and angry.

When we were kids, [my brother] and I were allowed to wander all over South Buffalo (which was probably safer at that time) and no one worried much. But that was what kids did. Our job was to play, not be around our mother. We did spend a lot of time with my grandmother, who lived two streets over. But you didn’t have that luxury. Life has become so disconnected with people moving around and away from their families… We also had aunts and uncles, although we didn’t see them much. Mom and dad were not too family oriented. They were critical of everyone, and bigoted.

The book is good. I think it will help therapists.

My Response: I guess I remember the story you told me being that I fell over the side at 6 months of age in lake mead. Don’t remember any of those other parts you are now relating, so that’s how it impacted me. I didn’t mean to say that I felt entirely disconnected from you–I think what we wanted to illustrate in the book was how a preoccupation with an alcoholic spouse isn’t good for kids. And it’s also why I wanted you to read [the chapter on] Stirred Grief first. Because of course, in this kind of complicated grieving, everything that happened to me as a kid is amplified by the current situation (dad dying). So it’s all out of proportion to reality. I hope that came across. Sorry if some of it was inaccurate.

I don’t think I knew that Ruthie committed suicide. That comes as something of a shock to me. I thought they just moved away. The last thing you told me about her was that she divorced him. I think he also beat her children.Someone did, because they were always bruised, and they were really angry little boys. So sad. What a neighborhood!

Mom’s second email:

It’s amazing how much abuse goes on in this world. Same for incest, sexual and drug abuse. Makes you wonder if it has always been that way. I remember one couple who went together in high school where he was abusive, but apparently they are still married now. Of course, the cycle of abuse is interesting in itself.

I think you were 6 months old in Las Vegas when we went there, but I may be wrong. You were two at Lake Mead.

My father was like Ron, although not quite as violent. He would rant and rave a lot, but beat us all indiscriminately. Once he beat me with his electric razor cord for playing with a boy because he had white hair and he thought he was Polish. His name was Dickie Hxxx. Doesn’t sound Polish to me. And we had a Polish aunt.

They say you marry someone like a parent. My grandmother begged me not to marry an alcoholic because her father had been one, but I didn’t have a clue about alcoholism when I married Ron because I had never known any. If I had had any experience I would have recognized the signs in him.

Me: I think this is a conversation that can continue. I want to hear
more about your view of things.

“Most of what makes a life satisfying and resonant lies outside the sphere of our personal skills and powers. We have been conditioned to think that we shape our lives far more than we actually do, and this is why we are so dismayed and feel so helpless when something outside our plan, outside the linear narrative flow of our life-tale, arises. To respect the sea is to trust that we can welcome life’s immense and unknowable currents rather than resist them, even when they seem to be drawing us to shores we don’t want to visit. We live our lives too much on small islands of conscious awareness and control.” -from Sailing Home, by Norman Fischer

On the island where I live, there’s something sad about the July houses on the beach this summer–a cold summer even for those of us conditioned to the Pacific Northwest. It’s as if winter is descending too soon. The July flags still flap in the wind, and the surf still offers up cast-off firework casings, chewed corncobs, and Moon Snail castings, but something is amiss. The wind blows cold and grayness never goes all the way out of the sky. Even so, I love watching, from the safety of my house, the endless storms approaching and breaking apart on radar loops.

It’s less than a mile from our house down to the beach, and I should go more often, but I feel myself resisting, waiting for the weather to change–to get better. Waiting for more favorable conditions. And when I do muster the energy to go, I wonder why I don’t go more often, even when it’s gray. Things in my life are suddenly simpler when I go. Incoming salt water licks up through the uneven sand caused by children playing, and the sea seems to say, “we’ll have this smoothed out by morning.”

Two things give me mysterious pleasure, and the above quote helps me understand why. The first I discovered when living with a piano player who only practiced when she thought I wasn’t home. Catching her was a rare treat, and I would listen in an upstairs room in near pain hoping she wouldn’t stop! And of course, I had no control over her stopping and starting, and had to give my utmost attention to the moments of her playing while they lasted–because many times she would stop suddenly, and that was the end of it for the day, much to my dismay. Ever since, I crave and pine for those rare moments when I get to overhear someone playing, making mistakes, practicing, in another room–where I can listen to them unselfconsciously, to the realness of it, to the humanity and fallibility inherent in practice. So uncanned. And the other is, (and I know I’m not alone in this) listening to rain on a roof–another place where I can do nothing to start or stop the rain, and have to settle in and listen while it lasts…

The few precious moments of sun this “summer” have been like rain and overheard practice. I attend to them more. I don’t take them for granted. There’s no time to get used to them. Heightened by scarcity, warmth and sun call with a fresh voice, ceding me out to sea, to feel, to appreciate and attend to these fleeting moments, one after another.

When I am able to see all of my moments like this, whether gray or cold or sun-filled and warm…there will deep joy.

I don’t think anything changes until ideas change. The usual American viewpoint is to believe that something is wrong with the person. - James Hillman

I am always trying to understand the deeper issues beneath how things work in this country, and why so much of what we do isn’t working for so many people. Last night I watched a documentary called “Money as Debt” about the history of how our money is backed up by the banking system. Very simply illustrated and easy to understand, I felt like a fuzzy curtain of misunderstanding about how our financial system is run dropped away.

I remember a long time ago reading in school about St. Thomas Aquinas, and how the church elders regarded the practice of usury as evil. Usury is the practice of making money that is based on nothing but speculation, debt, or interest on loans. According the documentary above (which you can watch for free on Surf the Channel), our entire world economic system is based on how much we can debt, and if we stop debting, the whole thing will collapse! (See their website)

What does this have to do with Buddhism, or Psychology? Part of my practice involves seeing myself, my motives, and my stories, with clarity. But I don’t exist in an isolated bubble–I exist as part of a greater world, and I am always trying to understand the complexity and function of this “external” world–which, in fact, I don’t really regard as “separate” from myself. I am made up of this world I live in. It influences and changes me, as it does my clients. I also try to understand the context of this world so that I can help others. Sometimes what myself and others are struggling with is not a result of our internal condition (although, all too often that’s the only part we have the power to change). Our “givens of existence” factor into how we will negotiate our inner lives and attitudes toward change. As James Hillman so often has said, we must not adjust ourselves to conform to the sick structures of the world. So it’s important for us to know what structures are sick, how they are sick, and how we have had to adjust ourselves to them. This is also a fundamental idea of Ecopsychology, which factors environment and our ecological surroundings into the make-up of our personality. Our surroundings deeply impact us.

And so as we are madly working on ourselves and our attitudes, desiring to change ourselves and feel better, we may actually be abusing ourselves in the same way we are abused by culture. We may be exercising too hard, (or at least beating ourselves up for not exercising enough), or we may be berating ourselves for not being enough of what pop-culture admonishes us to be–or having enough of the stuff we are daily pushed to consume or have. And if we aren’t wealthy, we are certainly sensing that we have somehow failed, and we take this failure personally. But if we look closely at the machinations of the wealthy and how many of them got there, psychotic and narcissistically wounded behavior is rampant! The disconnect required to create many types of wealth could very often be diagnosable as pathology, if any of us had the nerve to go there…but because having excessive wealth is equated with success, it never occurs to anyone that this is a problem–and probably a compulsive mental disorder. When we look more deeply into the harm caused by the usury that is now so commonplace, we can see the sociopathic elements involved in maintaining these injurious practices. But this silent epidemic goes along, unnoticed, largely because we are distracted by other things–like surviving day to day. Or figuring out how to operate the latest gadget we’ve purchased.

I mentioned the above video because I am alarmed. I think we need to open our eyes to what is really going on, and begin the process of change–for the sake of our future and our planet. Contained in the video is an illustration of how returning to a system based on real goods and barter can restore us to sanity. As our economic system goes down, and as our resources run out, the unsustainable system will need to be replaced with one that is sustainable. This is a worthy goal that all us of can work toward, and feel empowered by. With the Emporer’s nakedness revealed, we can see clearly the need to replace illusion with substance. I think the above video is the beginning of a conversation that needs to happen. How will we clothe ourselves now? What will we do? Let’s start talking about it, and not just turning inward and away, thereby perpetuating the cycle of denial.

“A delicately attuned empathy: I am here, with you in your pain. It’s so simple. To trust this therapy, that it is not just dead words, but a living act between two humans–that the buried pain and lonely feelings, when felt by another, can re-orient the trauma into something that we can bear together.”-excerpt from book, p. 111

I’m pleased to see that the book I wrote with my partner, Christopher Diggins, is showing up on Amazon.com. It’s called In a Cradle of Words: Intimate Encounters in Relational Therapy. It’s the story of a moment in time–when my father was dying of alcoholism, I was just starting my therapy practice, and just falling in love with my partner. He and I adapted his style of therapy to our relationship, and processed the crazy feelings that were happening in my life at that time. Reading it is like going through the experience with me. It is dramatic and engaging and a page turner–not your usual therapy book!

It feels odd and vulnerable, having it out there. I’m such a different person now than when I wrote it. I guess it’s because I went through what is described in the book that I am this person in this new place. I’m proud of the writing–which, unlike this blogging-style, is literate and artistic. I’m kind of poet at heart, but I also try to stay with clear, unadorned prose in the book.

Anyway, for what it’s worth, I have a book out! I turned a really difficult life situation into something that can possibly help another who may be going through a challenging relationship with a parent, or who may be feeling the need for therapy. I know that those who’ve read it have said it opened their hearts and emotions, and made them more able to feel what was going on for them. Thanks for reading my Blog of Shameless Self-Promotion!

On another note, the picture below is of me and my teacher, Zoketsu Norman Fischer. He’s the guy who really helped me see that I could take a tremendously difficult life-situation and turn it toward good action. He told me once that the karma of my past could stop with my life–that I didn’t have to continue my family legacy of alcoholism and shame. This had a tremendous impact on me. I felt empowered to turn my life and past history around.

The picture below was taken shortly after I went through a ceremony of taking the Precepts of Buddhist Practice, called Jukai. I had just been given the name: Dai i Kan Ji. It means “Great Healing, Perfect Love (compassion)”. The first part of the name, he said, is about where I’ve been. The second part, he said, is where he thinks I’m headed. Well, it’s a lot to live up to! And of course, in some way, I am living up to it just the way I am. What matters is how much compassion I can have for whatever arises.

My inbox this morning was acrimoniously stirred with posts on a thread from Zenhabits.net that again opened the controversy of Leo Babauta’s use of the word Zen in his blog title. I know why these posts happen. People are tired of seeing great pieces of art, deep and meaningful religious experiences, and unquantifiable relationships exploited for “commercial” use. Words like “Zen” and “yoga” are held up like crystals gazed into, stripped of context and meaning, and adjusted to perfectly fit the projections of as many consumers as possible. I don’t think this is how Leo is using it though, and if you can bear with me, I’ll tell you why.

For some reason I’m interested in this thread, and the fact that Leo allows it to go on, allows the opinions to fly, arguments to flame up and burn out, over and over again. It’s a long thread. And it gets me to think about what the word “Zen” really means. Most definitions trace the word back to Sanskrit, where it is said to mean: “To contemplate deeply.” But this isn’t quite what it means, either.

The commercial appropriation of the word Zen seems to have little to do with deep contemplation. Perhaps this is why so many are stirred up at seeing it used erroneously–if anything, the word seems to stop thought, and a blanket projection of peaceful and thoughtless bliss is conjured in the consumptive mind. “I’m going to buy me some of that peace of mind stuff!” Well, that’s not it either.

Zazen is a practice, mindfulness training, and discipline. It is simple. One sits on a cushion and focuses on the breath. Everything, every word, every ritual, every Dharma talk and writing, and every monastery is a projection that distracts from the essence of what Zen is. While Zen contains all of these things, nothing can define it. All of these things may point toward it, may lead to it, may set up the conditions in which it may arise, but they don’t describe it. These things are all contained in Zen, and they are all essentially Zen, but they are also separate, definable things–in the same way that one might use the word Zen to sell shampoo. So, does it matter? Does a word describing something in which I am deeply involved, being used for a purpose not fitting my projection of it, alter its essential meaning? Does it cheapen it? Does it take away from it somehow? For me, the answer is no, because there’s nothing to defend here.

I think this is what we are afraid of, at base: that commercial culture is going to cheapen what we hold dear–like the thousands of replicas of the Mona Lisa we can now view without trekking to the Louvre’, or how I can listen to Bach cello suites on my CD player whenever I want, a little something is lost in the mass-production and overuse of anything…

But this also makes it available to more people–takes it from the special, inaccessible and unattainable category, and puts it in the hands of those who may otherwise have never thought about such things. And really, using the word Zen to illustrate how a blogger has changed his habits for the better–and wants to help others change their habits for the better–seems not only innocuous, but beneficial—in fact, this Leo is acting like a Boddhisattva in his quest to help others. When we get right down to it, there really is no separation between anything in reality and Zen. If Buddhism confers any wisdom, it is that we are not separate from the world, but intimately connected to everything within it.

The real problem with Zen as it currently exists in the modern mind, is the perception that it is something separate from us—something special. In my practice, I see it as something that is everyday, ordinary. It is also extraordinary! Thrilling! Unusual. It’s all of that. And, it needs to be accessible, like the breath. Something we can turn to at any time, in any way that we need it. We can fight about how the word is used—but really, there’s nothing to fight for. Seattlerelationalcounseling.com/blog

A cure? Well, maybe not quite a cure, but a thought–a possibility. I’ve struggled with dysthymia (low-grade depression) for most of my life. Most likely it’s a combination of growing up in an alcoholic family and brain chemistry. For the most part, I take care of it using natural methods: Light, exercise, vitamins and herbs, diet and nutrition, journaling, meditation and therapy. But sometimes it overwhelms me and it becomes difficult to do much of anything that is good for me.

Lately, because of the extra pressures of life, I have found that I’m slipping again. As I contemplate the reasons for this, certainly the economic and political situation is a major factor in my mood these days. I am watching dear friends and family members struggle, as well as seeing my own clients working harder and harder to pay for services–even with my reasonable rates, sometimes they just can’t pay for much needed therapy. Many therapists I know are watching their private practices dwindle, as therapy sessions slip down the hierarchical scale of needs–first food, and fuel, shelter and warmth–therapy is lower and lower on the list…so everyone is struggling.

And so we are all thinking a lot about ourselves these days. How will I survive? How will I make it? Where will the money/the clients/the help come from? As I reinvest every extra penny into my own business, I sometimes fear that it will not be enough, and that I may not survive the economic downturn. But I know I am not alone. I know that others are suffering as much or far more than I am. Which brings me to the “depression cure.”

I don’t think that people can just turn their attitude around on a dime. I don’t think there’s a quick fix, or that our problems are “all in our head,” or that anyone is being “overly sensitive”. But I do think there is a way out of the self-absorption that a depressive state fosters, and I think it’s pretty simple. We turn our focus toward others. No matter how difficult things seem for me, there is someone out there in need of my help, or support, or smile, or kind word.

I want to be clear here, and say that our introspection about depression and sadness is not a bad thing. It’s a tool we’ve developed to help us reflect on our current state–one that helps us begin to move again. Sometimes depression is the only thing that stops us–and pausing can be artful and necessary, pregnant with wisdom and depth. What I am saying is that we can use these pauses in a different way. First we acknowledge and feel compassion for our own pain and suffering. Then, we turn that hard-earned empathy outward, toward others. We begin to see that our pain is the same as the pain of other beings, and we begin to wonder what we can do to help alleviate their pain. The funny thing is, my pain feels much lighter when I do this. I feel better. So is helping another person a selfless act? Or is it selfish? I really don’t know. I do know that if two people feel better as the result of one action, then maybe it’s not important how I describe it.

By now, some people are saying, I don’t have the time/the money/fill in the blank…. My response to this is, keep it simple, and don’t think that you have to save the world. For instance, if you are reading this, you probably have a computer. Maybe you are ill and can’t get out to do anything, and maybe you have no money. What if you signed up to one of the many online support forums out there and just wrote supportive and loving responses to people reaching out in their loneliness and pain? Maybe you need to go through your things and give some away to Goodwill. If you are able, what if you cut some flowers from your yard and gave them to an elderly neighbor who seldom gets visitors? Maybe you just make a point of telling a different person in your life what you appreciate about them each day. Maybe instead of grimacing at the check-out person at the grocery store, you smile and ask them about their day.

The point I’m trying to make is not to be glib, or to override what you or someone else is feeling. It’s just that I’ve noticed in my own life, in my own struggles, that sometimes it really helps to shift my focus off of myself. I can get too caught up in my own pain and problems, and my energy is drained and depleted. Even just thinking about who I can do something helpful for today begins to shift that sense of depletion, and I start to feel better. If the economic ship is really going down, I guess my hope is that I’ll go down helping someone else survive, not just fearfully clenching my own little pile of stuff and trying to ensure my own little empire of safety.

Anyone can become angry - that is easy. But to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not easy. -Aristotle

This post is in response to Evening Buzz: “Whiner” Nation? Lately I’ve been hearing those campaigning for office talk about changing the “psychology” of the voter–making us feel better by manipulating the price of gas or interest rates or some other strategically hot issue. Suddenly the word “psychology” is hot property among the gang leader and his companions.

It is not news that marketing firms and politicians use knowledge of psychology to further their ends and manipulate consumers and voters. However, I can’t help but feel insulted by this latest political-speak asking the American people to just adjust their thinking–when it is coming from the people who are supposed to be doing something about the problems. If we all just think more positively, things will get better! This lets them off the hook, and hooks us and makes us responsible for the mismanagement of our hard earned tax dollars that they have so gratuitously spent on making war and perpetuating destruction and ill-will toward us throughout the world. While I do believe our attitude shapes our lives, and that we are empowered to act and change our world, I don’t want to hear about this from politicians who have pretty much robbed decent, hard-working people and ensured that they themselves have way more than any of them could possibly need…and who have unceremoniously destroyed lives and livelihoods to do so.

If politicians spent as many years in school studying psychology–and in continuous study thereafter–as I have, then maybe I could lend some credence to what they are now saying about the general psychology of the American people. But too many people are suffering from real problems and are helpless and impoverished in the face of our current problems. If the politicians and financial controllers want to push something, they ought to be pushing an attitude of generosity and giving among their peers, not chastising us for being a country of “whiners.” To hear these things from those with such immense privilege is insulting and demeaning.

As I continue to think about the generalized anxiety and anger I see around me, I realize that very few of us have places where these feelings can be expressed and felt. Too often people want to look the other way, change the subject, or we are admonished to “lighten-up.” This makes us feel alone with our despair for the world–and then it tends to come out wrong and flow in the wrong direction–at each other rather than toward the perpetrators.

I would suggest, rather than acting our despair out on strangers and on one another, that we give ourselves permission to be as angry as we are about the way our country is going. And let’s also look at what the real problems are, and stop blaming our neighbor, or the driver who happens to be in-front-of us, or our children, or spouses….Perhaps the most effective thing we can do is speak our truth to power, speak up for what we need, and demand certain rights, such as fair health care, enough to eat, and warm shelter for everyone. Excuse me for my bluntness, but I’ve grown tired of corporate politicians pissing down on us from above–(Oh, wait, I think they call this, “trickle-down economics…”) I’m angry, and while I take responsibility for this anger, I want them to know about it. I think a dialog about our shared economic pain is in order. We need one another, and we need to talk about what is happening to us, and how American politics are effecting the world. If we continue to isolate ourselves in our individual despair bubbles, things are not going to get any better. This is the way we take responsibility–by feeling what we feel, and by opening up some real, heart-felt communication about what is happening to us, to our world, and to those around us.

One last thought. A Buddhist teacher once pondered the role of our government. He said: “What if the government was really in our service? What if they were there to make sure everyone had enough–that everyone was looked after and taken care of? What if their job was to help the citizens of this country do their work, stay healthy, and be happy? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

It sounds like such a radical idea. And then it occurred to me–isn’t that why we pay taxes? Isn’t that what they are there for? How have I come to expect so little from them? Maybe this is, indeed, where my personal psychology needs to change. Maybe I will adjust my thinking, Mr. Gramm. I’ll stop “whining” and demand more fairness, more equality, and more peaceful diplomacy from this entity that is supposed to be meeting and serving the real needs of its people! seattlerelationalcounseling.com/blog