hardness
Living people are soft and tender.
Corpses are hard and stiff.
The ten thousand things,
the living grass, the trees,
are soft, pliant.
Dead, they’re dry and brittle.So hardness and stiffness
go with death;
tenderness, softness,
go with life.And the hard sword fails,
the stiff tree’s felled.
The hard and great go under.
The soft and weak stay up.- Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching, English version by Ursula K. LeGuin
I am reminded in this age, that tanks and tombstones are not very adequate role models… to be alive… to be woman… to care… is to be vulnerable. Being in love, being unafraid to speak your mind, living your life with nothing to hide… is to be vulnerable. People see vulnerability as some sort of weakness… but really, it is strength and freedom. It doesn’t take much courage to go along with social conventions, to be politically correct… to go along with the culture of “professionalism” in business (”Ewww, she’s not being professional!”), even though it makes human beings feel like slaves and valued by how much Stuff they own… but it takes a lot of courage to reject those ways, and to voice our true feelings… to open up to vulnerability, to face the possibility of rejection by friends and family, or to lose a job because you chose to speak your mind rather than hold your tongue. Choosing to be vulnerable is not a coward’s choice.
There is a deep human need for comfort and security, and it makes us uncomfortable with being vulnerable.
Being vulnerable doesn’t have to be threatening. Just have the courage to be sincere, open and honest. This opens the door to deeper communication all around. It creates self-empowerment and the kind of connections with others we all want in life. Speaking from the heart frees us from the secrets that burden us. These secrets are what make us sick or fearful. Speaking truth helps you get clarity on your real heart directives.
- Sara Paddison, The Hidden Power of the Heart
Opening ourselves to others is uncomfortable, but it also means opening the heart and being vulnerable to discover truths about ourselves. Most people deny their vulnerability. The last thing they want to admit is how vulnerable they really are. It’s uncomfortable because it’s scary… no, it’s terrifying. Where on earth did the idea come from that only “perfect” is acceptable? What does it mean to be human, and what fosters that humanity? How do different cultures honor and enact what they value?
The world outside tells a harsh truth, doesn’t it?
But must it be that way at home, too? And in the home of our own spirits? I was raised in a family where feelings weren’t openly expressed, experienced, or welcomed. I and my siblings were emotionally, verbally, and physically abused by our father. I never felt accepted (my sister has said the same thing). Our home was a continual high-stress environment, and we always had to walk on eggshells around our father, who was, for most of our childhoods, kind of a military dictator at home. We both remember the assassination of our president, his brother, and Martin Luther King.
School (for me) was kind of a relief; my sister didn’t even have school as a comforting place. We grew up on Air Force bases during the Cuban Missile Crisis, during Vietnam, with bomb drills at school (”Duck and Cover!”) and air raid sirens going off at all hours at home in our neighborhoods. We never lived in the same house for more than 2-3 years until my father retired from the service.
I’ve always wondered if anyone has done any sort of psychological study of our generation or of military dependent kids who grew up like we did. I’m fairly certain that our childhoods were not anything like most American children. I’m also fairly certain our parents did not grow up in an environment like we did either. I’ve often felt like someone’s experimental guinea pig, imagining cruel gods throwing all this shit at me just to see how I’d react. Heh. (”Curses, foiled again!”)
The losses and emotionally traumatic events we’ve experienced as children probably make us vulnerable to feeling overwhelmed or depressed if we encounter a similar event or loss later in life… the pump is primed.
I have been badly hurt in relationships, in friendships, in marriage, and in work situations. I have not always been able to extricate myself from those situations in a way that led to closure and resolution. That would have been ideal, but that is not my reality. The pain and expectation of being hurt or abandoned just lie there inside of me waiting for someone to push that button (or pull that trigger, if you will). I suppose my reactions to various things can sometimes seem irrational or inappropriate to observers in light of what they know (or remember me telling them) about my actual life. I suppose, too, that I haven’t always communicated what’s going on inside very clearly to others, which leads to all kinds of misunderstandings all the way around. I will say, though, that to even get to where I am now - emotionally - took a lot of conscious effort on my part… though I am still vulnerable (”Take your finger off the trigger!”). I am dependent, and I am dysfunctional, and I am sometimes, depending on the situation, somewhat anti-social. I have defense mechanisms, I am sarcastic and cynical, I’m afraid of making mistakes, I don’t take criticism well but I am highly self-critical (I hide it pretty well).
I have found that Love is a balance between the most efficient and most effective way to improve oneself. But it’s not the love from outside that will do it, it’s the love I feel for myself… and I’m not always good at loving myself (or others). I know what I’m supposed to do, I just don’t always know how. A cup of tea can be nice at those times. 
By writing this, however, I have allowed myself to express and experience my vulnerability, knowing that what’s important has been written down, allowing my mind to focus on the next thought or feeling…
January 29th, 2006 at 4:01 pm
I think it is wonderful that you did this!
January 29th, 2006 at 6:41 pm
It’s hard for other people to imagine what it must have been like for me growing up, but it’s part of what makes me the way I am. The things we go through as children are still there, lying in wait, inside of us… and it’s going to be something different with each person. I think Stephen King, more than any other contemporary writer I’ve read, understands that, and he uses it and exploits it sooooo well.
Most of us, I think, are like little horror movies inside… at least the people of my generation seem to be, considering everything we’ve had to absorb and deal with… and yet, we’re all trying to pretend that everything about us is “normal” (whatever that is).
But I’ll tell ya, the way I grew up… not normal… not by any stretch of the imagination.
January 31st, 2006 at 12:04 pm
Yes, but I am glad that you had the courage to talk about it a little bit. I think, though, that more people would understand where you came from than you might think. The details of our lives are different, yes, but like you said, we all have something “lying in wait, inside of us.” ‘Something,’ like a stumbling block, that you know that you need to overcome. You certainly don’t want to make any excuses. You don’t want to lean on it, like it is a crutch of any kind…but, you still walk with it. It has a profound effect upon you…more than you want to accept or realize…and you can’t really change it.
My life was ‘horror film’ too. I could tell you my story. Broken home…bad role modeling (drugs and alcohol)…poverty…emotional upheaval…a steep depression…loneliness…but from these weaknesses, I have had to build certain strengths. I have had to “self-help” myself, a lot. I try to learn and enjoy new things. Life is short. I try to create new patterns from this thread I am contantly spinning. And sometimes, because of my past, I can reach others with a few words of encouragement, and exhort them to make it through the tough spots they find themselves in right now.
But my past has ‘wired’ me to do this…to be an exhorting influence in people’s lives, if I can…it’s how I feel loved…it’s how I feel needed. And it’s been that way since I was a child…when I had to exhort my mom to be happy when I was three years old and my dad left us. And, you see, Aine, I know this about myself…and I have learned to solemnly accept my essence, as it is…and I want to keep on living, and not just “be” (exist), but “become.” I want to live a good and joyous and passionate life. That, to me, is being “normal.”
January 31st, 2006 at 6:16 pm
I was reading a post at your blog last night… about how you wonder (if the basis of your faith) if it’s all just WORDs. I don’t think it is. I do think that we, as writers / poets, do tend to communicate primarily in this way - even to deity - but, no, it’s not all there is. What comes before the words, in your heart, in your soul, and in your brain? There is a thing there even before the words have formed themselves into your mind, allowing you to express that thing… but it’s still there even before the words are.
Don’t get too hung up with the idea that we are all just bits, bytes, or pieces of biochemical impulses arranged into certain patterns… there is much more to it than this. If anyone else could Be who you are, you wouldn’t be here. Your wife would be married to some guy named Charles, and your kids would be other people whom (it’s likely) you wouldn’t even recognize. Every person is unique to the overall “pattern” of the multiverse, and each has the ability to change that weave of reality in whatever way they choose (free will). I tend to think of “it all” as a mind-bogglingly complex orchestral piece of music… we’re all singing / playing our parts, no one else can do it for us, and it’s a never-ending complex variation on a theme. Actually, I’ve heard the music myself (details can be found in my other blog, in the FAQ category, I’m too lazy to go look for the entry right now, but it has to do with whether I believe in God or not).
February 10th, 2006 at 2:35 am
I just found something interesting in the stats. It seems someone thought enough of this post to repost it as their own over here… but they got caught at it.
Pie didn’t write it, and I’m not Pie, nor have I ever been to your forums before.
Still, thanks for all the traffic, forum members. Glad you liked this post, too.
*waves*
September 24th, 2006 at 4:09 am
Having joked about google I feel, perhaps not so much from reading this wonderful article - which expresses your strength and wisdom, I think - but more perhaps from the poems following (they’re lovely), that I’ve trespassed a little on your privacy. Oops! *hug*
You’re amazing, Aine, and I think you know how highly I regard you - and how kindly
September 24th, 2006 at 4:20 am
Awwww… you know, Martin, if I wanted to keep all this private, it wouldn’t be on my server where everyone could find it.
I have other blogs, too, but this one is just for the poems, fiction, and “freewriting” weirdness that goes through my mind.
I’m also playing around with a wiki or two, tons of social networking memberships/pages/profiles, tagging apps, bookmarking apps, and on and on it goes. Sometimes the pages lay in rest (like this blog currently is, at least until winter sets in), although sometimes I never get back to some of the social networks I have pages on because there are just too many of them to deal with (plus I lose interest and move on to the next new thing that Irma points me towards — hehe).