Rattlesnakes

Rattlesnakes are venomous pit vipers. You can tell a snake by its bite. Symptoms of a rattlesnake bite include: one or two puncture marks; pain, tingling, burning or swelling in the area of the bite; bruising and discoloration at site of the bite; numbness; nausea, weakness and light-headedness; difficulty breathing. Rattlesnakes feed on small prey, including rabbits. You can tell a snake by what it feeds on. Rattlesnake babies are more dangerous and neurotoxic than their rattle tailed adult counterparts. They are more aggressive too, making them more dangerous. You can tell a snake by its family of origin. Hear the sound of the ringed buttons at the tail end of a rattlesnake. This is your warning of eminent strike. Unblinking staring eyes trained on prey is the readying of the viper and the victim can be caught unaware. After all, who willingly puts themselves in close quarters with a viper? You can tell a snake by its ability to slither up close enough to bite. Numbness, nausea, weak light-headedness with difficulty breathing. You can tell someone who has been bitten by a snake. The snake is the hunter, the prey is the unwitting victim. One is steely in its stance, the other quivers in fear and doom seconds before the inescapable strike. Following the bite, the venom takes effect. Snakes live and slither among us. Attacking words are their warning rattle, foreshadowing vicious unforgiving venomous soul poisoning bites. Have you met a rattlesnake disguised as human Dear Reader? Have you ever experienced the numbing sickness that follows the penetrating bite? Would you run when next in its presence? Once bitten, twice shy is the expression. Are you willing to extricate yourself from the vipers holding gaze and predatory plans for you? Snakes live among us, are you their would be prey? We know a person by their words and actions. Are you a rabbit or a snake?

Venom is undeniably, snakey.

Addiction

Reminder: You are free from addiction. 

What if this flashed across your phone screen or appeared suddenly on a billboard as you drove by? Unbidden, unplanned, a written note from a hand unseen? A love note really. A reminder of freedom, 2 Peter 2:19 “for you are a slave to whatever controls you." It's funny, in a peculiar way, to write about freedom from my Canadian kitchen while sipping delicious coffee. It seems wrong somehow. I am so free that I can pick and choose what I do with my time, career, family and friends, amongst other things. This is where freedom becomes dicey. I get to choose my addictions too. Addiction sounds choice less in a world gone mad with narcissistic indulgences. Addiction can be a convenience, or at least it is for me. It is a checking out from responsibility and accountability for my abundant time and the work that is set before me. An unnecessary vacation from an amazing life. What am I addicted to? As mentioned above, convenience. My habits. Periodically I feel addicted to caffeine, sugar, exercise, technology, being right. I also enjoy the drug like hit I get for my ego when I am acknowledged, complimented, noticed. Now let us look at you, Dear Reader. What is your repeated repeat that seems to enslave and control you? Addiction-what if this word is a cover, a blanket that is placed over pain. Pain masked. Pain unpermitted. Pain banished without its respectful due. Covering pain with a thin blanket of distraction does nothing to keep out the cold chilling truth that seeps into the bones and leaks into our relationships. Addiction can present as a physical demand on the body. It can also present as a demand on the psyche. We can be addicted to proving ourselves worthy or stating how very unworthy we are. Emotions and the reactions we indulge in can also be addictive, along with the impact they have on the people we live our lives in close contact with. Addiction can take many forms; in other words, you don’t have to be a crack cocaine or gambling addict to get your fix. Where are we now? When questioned, addiction is forced to answer the why of its existence. If indeed addiction is blanketing your pain, what would getting help look like? Perhaps all you need is an understanding human to come along side you to listen and hear your pain? You need not suffer alone Dear Reader. I leave you with this. You are not a slave. You CAN take control. Let this truth permeate your being, setting you free. 

House of Secret Rooms

I have a recurring nightmare that has been my haunting for more than 15 years. I find myself in a house that is vaguely familiar and dauntingly strange. Winding corridors with hidden secret rooms. In the dreams, I find whole rooms filled with toys, suddenly and abruptly left as though the people that had occupied the room had been forced to evacuate, never permitted return because new owners had moved in. I do not want to touch or disturb the items, they are not mine. Strangely, I am the only one in the house. The houses are often different in the dreams with a consistent feeling of horror that I am in this place, not of my choosing. Like the evacuated people being forced out, I am forced in. One house in particular has presented more frequently than others. It is my grandparents house and there is a room that my memory resurrects in the dream and a do not go there, never go in there warning flashes across my mind. Sometimes, in waking hours, I reassure myself that the home I am standing in is real, that the secret rooms do not exist and that I am safe. These dreams, they have been my nightmare for a very long time. I have tried on various occasions to understand them, to make sense of them and until today, they were unfathomable. A valued friend gave me a quick like lightning insight that blasted the darkness in the secret rooms, filling them with understanding light. Here is what she said to me "Its like a house of secrets where we hide our toys and our lives." I don't know about your upbringing Dear Reader, but I do know about mine. A parental mantra was don't talk about this outside of the family, it's no one else's business. Which meant good bad or otherwise, nothing was shared of a personal nature with outsiders, they were not to be trusted. Hidden pleasure and pain, left in a darkened dusty room undisturbed, untouchable. I am the least secretive person you will ever read about. I am a dust buster and cobweb swiper. I love truth in all its glorious forms. The house of secret rooms is not my house, it is not where I live. It is what I have always wanted escape from. The haunting house was built by someone else and I don't belong there. My house, the one I call home, is bright, open and welcoming. What about you Dear Reader? Are there any rooms in your house that need a clean purifying sweep?  What do you need to break free from so that you can choose for yourself? 

Three Runs

The other day I was having a conversation with my son. I had a question for him. He answered it. I tried again with a slightly different question, you know, modified. He responded similarly. I tried once more with a more pointed version of the first two questions and he held steadfast. Than it hit me. I had taken three runs at him, wanting him to change his answer. I clearly went into this inquisition (grin) with an agenda. The answer I got was not the one I wanted to hear and just as the saying goes, when at first you don't succeed, try try again. This is how manipulation starts and than turns into something we all hate, demanding. Suddenly the ante is upped and demanding becomes commanding and when that doesn't work, an attempt with force may be the final stop in this I will break you scheme. Over time the erosion in relationship turns ugly with distrust filling the gap between two. Back to my pseudo conversation with my son. When I realized I had a hidden plan and wanted something for him that he was not interested in, I sat back in my chair with an oh feeling. I had not been listening. I heard his words but stubbornly refused to accept their meaning. Fortunately my son and I have a great relationship and I praised him for his tenacious steadfastness in the face of my leading and directive questioning. He is my match. This is what strong arming looks like and how an equally armed person can contend when challenged. Manipulation is a subtle and insidious slithery viper. The subtly creates the illusion of interest and can be feigned. This mask begins to slip when the manipulator increases pressure on their prey. Hints of threat begin to appear with each request being turned down or denied. Feel the tension rise as the hunt continues. Feels like a trap, doesn't it? Have you ever been in this trap? Have you ever set this trap? Don't worry, I'm not judging you. Babies learn manipulation almost right out of the womb. As adults, we get to figure out these patterns and stop them dead in their tracks when we recognize that imposing on another human being is an unhealthy relationship choice that damages both parties. What about being the imposed upon one, you ask? My son stayed true to his himself by sticking with his first answer, that's one option. Option two? Ask the manipulator "what do you want from me?" and then it is up to you to decide yes or no. The relationship may be hard to navigate but than again, you already knew that. Your answer, however, can be very simple. Trust yourself, you know what the answer is long before you are even asked. 

Quick Sand

Quick Sand

Quick sand is liquified soil defined as: loose wet sand that yields easily to pressure and sucks in anything resting on or falling into it; a bad or dangerous situation from which it is hard to escape.

I remember shows from childhood with dreaded quicksand or tar pits that characters had to be rescued from. The warning from rescuer to sand pit captive was always “Don’t move, you will sink faster.” Close by there always happened to be a branch or rope long enough to extend to and extract the pit victim. 

I remember the anxious feelings I had while watching these rescues. Would the sinking person or cartoon character get out in time or would I be witness to them slipping deeper and irretrievably beneath the surface, never to be seen or heard from again? A disconcerting thought to say the least, because a helpless feeling could blanket me, if I didn’t have hope. 

When do we know we are in quicksand? When do we know that we need help, the extension and offer of a strong branch with a soul on the other side, wanting to see us survive and removed from the pit that threatens to swallow us up, never to be seen or heard from again? May I offer that we know when we have a sinking feeling in the pit of our own stomach that if change doesn’t happen, somehow we will be lost forever. 

It comes to me in a flash that the villains in these shows would fall prey to these pits, thrashing about and desperately trying to save themselves, even when help was near. Their descent into the seemingly bottomless pit was rapid and soon forgotten. With their departure into liquified soil, there was a brief feeling of loss followed by a sense of relief that the evil one was no longer a threat.

Rescue. If I fall into a pit, will you come for me? Will you say “Be still, I will get something to pull you out.”? In my weakness and time of need, will you be my strength? While you stand on solid ground and see me in my despair, what is your offering? Do you believe I can make it out and join you there? Do YOU believe in me, have hope for me, want me to survive?

If you offer me a branch or rope, I have to chose to hold on in my own strength. You cannot save me, I must decide I want to live. I must hope for myself as I accept your offer of help. It takes two, me and you, to make survival work. 

We all fall in and we all need help out. It is oh so human to be strong and yet weak, vulnerable and yet invincible. We all take turns in the many ways of being in this life. Whether I am in the pit or you have inadvertently slipped in, my request and promise is to be there for one another for extraction. Solid ground feels good when we get to look at the pit together and say we survived and from here, the future looks bright. 

Running with Scissors

HELP. I was running with scissors slipped and fell and cut my soul to shreds. Can you piece me back together? I laughed childishly as this image and metaphor popped into my caustic naughty mind while I once again listened to a rescue story from a close friend. There is a human relations diabolical triangle that is lived out in the hearts minds and lives of the unconscious. A play with roles performed by an uncast crew of victim, rescuer and persecutor. (Google this for yourself and see if you recognize any patterns in your own life. Look for Transcending The Victim-Rescuer-Persecutor Triangle, orginally published in the Holman House Healing Centre Journal & a Greek Magazine). As a recovering rescuer, I must be ever vigilant in my awareness and efforts to not become entangled in tempting triangular role playing. I like harmony and human suffering causes me to suffer too. I remember learning that when one baby starts crying, it is likely that other babies within ear shot will also begin to cry. Empathy, sympathy, mirror neurons, it doesn't really matter the initiation process, it would appear that we are conditioned as human beings to feel pain vicariously and some of us have a hard time separating ourselves from the pain of others. The discomfort drives the rescuer to fix, make better or somehow alleviate the pain they see and or hear.The victim has an innate ability to cultivate relationships with rescuers and as the unhealthy pattern develops and grows, it becomes toxic with interdependence. Victim is understood finally and might I add repeatedly, since this is, after all, a pattern, and their woes are met with compassion; Rescuer is heroic and justified as valiant problem solver and wound healer; the common enemy is the source of pain, the trouble making Persecutor that everyone loves to hate. Overly simplified? Well yes of course, this ain't no scientific report you are reading! Here is the driving point: This unhealthy triangular game needs three willing participants to make all the ugly and messy happen. The roles are interchangeable and each player gets to try their hand at hurt, angry and let me make it all better roles. Once the pattern is established, it repeats itself in strange and wonderful ways, establishing footholds at home, work, place of worship and in friendships. Seeing the pattern, understanding the roles and deciding no, this is not for me, is the only way out. Help is indeed required because underneath the roles played out, there is a need to be heard, seen and healed. Breaking the pattern requires awareness and conscious effort for those who really want to be free. What about you? Are you running with sharpened scissors, Dear Reader? Is it time to put them down? You are at the bottom of this story, this page, what conclusions have you?

One Life, One Love, safety first is always the best rule. 

Words & Matches

They can ignite a burning fire that has power

Words are like matches, they can ignite a burning fire that has the power to help, heal or hurt. Matches are harmless when nestled side by side in their homey book. Words too, are harmless when strung together playfully and in jest. The danger is in the careless, reckless, use of either.

Warning: "But I tell you that every careless word that people speak, they shall give an accounting for it in the day of judgement. For by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned" (Matthew 12:36-37).

Now we all know that it is the meaning behind spoken words that increase volume and intensity. A threat can be whispered, hissed, spelled out. It is impact that makes words significant and powerful. Subaudition is: a thing that is not stated, only implied or inferred. This means that a smiling face that delivers a politely guised message of hate is just as dangerous as someone who clearly screams "You make me sick and I want to kill you". Even typing this nasty bit of verbalized violence is enough to turn my stomach. What impact did it have on you?

We are accountable for our words

Have you left any fires burning?

I have used words to hurt and to heal. I am accountable and this means I have often used I'm sorry to mend a fence, heal a wound, let another know that I have regret, remorse and wish to make amends. Sometimes I am not sorry, not immediately, which makes me wonder about the small fires I have left burning, unattended with the potential of spreading and causing massive wildfire destruction.

Does this sound dramatic, dear reader? Perhaps I give myself, the words I use, and their impact far too much importance? I can only speak to my own experience, having been the giver and the receiver of unpleasant verbal exchanges that can cause third degree like burns. The recovery period is long and enduring.

Your turn. Are there any fires you need to pay attention to and perhaps, extinguish? Careful now, you are after all is said and done, accountable for your words.

Kindred

How do you know that you know when someone loves you?  I know because actions speak louder than words. I measure my feelings against history. Repeated exposure to people gives you a great idea of their character, what they are capable of, what they really think. Initially, I have a reaction, an instant feeling that I am either attracted to, or repelled by, individuals. Ambivalence is generally a sign for me of complete disinterest in a person. I started writing about knowing love. At this point, I am looking at the genesis of love, its beginning point, the knowing when you are in the company of your kindred. The draw for me is natural, unwavering, magnetic and undeniable. All of my greatest relationships started with this drawing near to the other, this inexplicably impossible to ignore urge to be with them, enjoy their company, soak them up somehow because I feel joyful with them. There is something else. It is edification. This is the moral, intellectual instruction or improvement of me, when I am with them. After the soul brushing, I walk away refreshed and new and I see myself through their eyes. This is the gift of being with a kindred. They see my halo and as I walk away, it glows. I am fortified, ready to do battle as a warrior for the good fight. You too, have your kindred. Look around you Dear Reader, who is ready, willing and able to love you into your own strength? 

Kindred

How do you know that you know when someone loves you?  I know because actions speak louder than words. I measure my feelings against history. Repeated exposure to people gives you a great idea of their character, what they are capable of, what they really think. Initially, I have a reaction, an instant feeling that I am either attracted to, or repelled by, individuals. Ambivalence is generally a sign for me of complete disinterest in a person. I started writing about knowing love. At this point, I am looking at the genesis of love, its beginning point, the knowing when you are in the company of your kindred. The draw for me is natural, unwavering, magnetic and undeniable. All of my greatest relationships started with this drawing near to the other, this inexplicably impossible to ignore urge to be with them, enjoy their company, soak them up somehow because I feel joyful with them. There is something else. It is edification. This is the moral, intellectual instruction or improvement of me, when I am with them. After the soul brushing, I walk away refreshed and new and I see myself through their eyes. This is the gift of being with a kindred. They see my halo and as I walk away, it glows. I am fortified, ready to do battle as a warrior for the good fight. You too, have your kindred. Look around you Dear Reader, who is ready, willing and able to love you into your own strength? 

One Life, One Love.