On Saturday I sat in the backseat of a car with a moon roof. I stared up at the sky and noticed a rainbow hidden in the clouds. I lowered my sunglasses because usually, that helps me see colors better but, in this case, I was surprised. Leaving my sunglasses on helped me more clearly see the rainbow. It blew my mind a little, to be honest.
We talk a lot about darkness and associate it with bad or evil things. Darkness is something to be scared of, it’s dangerous. But is that always true? Seeing this rainbow through my sunglasses reminded me sometimes darkness is illuminating. That happened for me this week not only with a rainbow but also with a better understanding of trauma.
When I first heard the news about antisemitic banners hanging over an LA freeway, my response was, “Where will I run?” That’s not rational or reasonable. No one was chasing me! Furthermore, I’ve never directly experienced antisemitism – no one has called me names for wearing a Jewish star or bullied me online. So where did this response come from? It’s a bodily memory from my ancestors.
The rainbow I saw wasn’t nearly this defined but you get an idea of what I saw. Photo by Mathias Reding on Unsplash
My maternal ancestors lived in Eastern Europe and even before the Holocaust, it wasn’t free of antisemitism. I don’t know much about them, but I do know about my grandparents – both of whom were Holocaust survivors. They both had horrific experiences, but I think my, “Where will I run?” response comes from my grandmother.
During World War II, she dug her way through the ground floor of a Lithuanian ghetto and escaped via a sewer line into the woods. In other words, she ran. To my surprise, when I encounter antisemitism in places I don’t expect, like an LA freeway, that same response shows up in me. My “lizard brain” gets activated. We all have this brain, it’s our limbic system, and it doesn’t respond to logic or reason. The limbic system scans all sensory inputs and responds in a fraction of a second by letting them into the cortex, the thinking part of the brain, or initiating the fight, flight, freeze, or fawn response.
As trauma-therapist Resmaa Menakem writes in his book My Grandmother’s Hands, “This mechanism allows our lizard brain to override our thinking brain whenever it senses real or imagined danger. It blocks any information from reaching our thinking brain until after it has sent a message to fight, flee, or freeze.”
In other words, you can’t reason with your lizard brain. It just responds. What I hadn’t realized, and what I think many people also don’t understand, is that when it comes to big issues, the “isms” and “phobias” we’re facing right now, you can’t reason those away. It might work with some people to explain why racism is harmful to everybody, including white people, but if a white-bodied person feels fear or anger in their nervous system when they encounter a melanated body, logic goes out the window and racism continues.
Shadows can offer a new perspective sometimes. Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
Similarly, emotional appeals will also only take you so far. Just after George Floyd’s murder, there was a surge of interest in antiracism. Emotions ran high and people purchased books and enrolled in classes more than they had before. But now, those classes and courses aren’t garnering as much interest or attention because emotion faded. But the body remembers. Menakem argues, “If we are to survive as a country, it is inside our bodies where this conflict will need to be resolved.”
After this week and experiencing my own version of alienation and othering, I agree. I can’t reason with people why antisemitic tropes are malarkey. I can’t emotionally convey why staying silent in the face of antisemitism is terrifying for me as a Jewish person. If you don’t get it, I can’t make you get it. What I can do though, is heal my own trauma.
When we do so we make room for growth in our nervous systems and that spreads. It’s like emotional contagion, but instead of emotion, something even more powerful. This isn’t a task relegated to oppressed groups, by the way. Every group has its own brand of trauma including white people. Responding with rage and aggression in the presence of an oppressed group is evidence of that.
Darkness revealed a lot to me this week. And not only a rainbow.
I dream of a world where we recognize logic and emotion only takes us so far. A world where we understand the power of trauma and create more space and peace within our nervous systems. A world where we confront our shadow to make the world a better place for ourselves and others. A world where we understand not only is light illuminating, so is the dark.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Right now, all over the world people are celebrating Diipavali or Diwali, a festival of lights that symbolizes the spiritual victory of light over darkness, good over evil, and knowledge over ignorance. There’s something interesting for me about how Diipavali is coinciding with the fires in California. I know October is a dry month for California so it’s no surprise my beloved state is on fire, but there’s something especially poignant about the timing of it all.
What I mean is it’s coming to light, pun intended, that Pacific Gas and Electric, the utility company in northern California, is responsible for the blazes raging both currently and last year. Last year an entire town, Paradise, burned to the ground due to PG&E’s negligence, and prompted the company to file for bankruptcy. The utility company has known about the trouble with its equipment for decades and didn’t upgrade it. It’s only now that we can pin the blame squarely on PG&E’s shoulders that something is being done about it.
One candle may kindle another to drive out darkness. Photo by Nishta Sharma on Unsplash
What I’m seeing over and over again is corruption floating to the surface. Secrets are emerging, we’re shining a spotlight in the dark corners, and watching cockroaches scuttle away. Not only with PG&E, but with the impeachment inquiry as well. Shady practices that Trump engaged in are emerging and the majority of us are saying, “No. This is not OK.”
However, unlike with Diipavali where good has triumphed over evil, I don’t think we’re there yet. Instead, we’re in the day before Diipavali, metaphorically speaking. The day before the festival is supposed to be the darkest day of the year when it seems like light will never win. It’s a question I’ve been asking myself lately. I cannot express how angry I am at PG&E, as well as the behavior of corrupt politicians and CEOs. I want to shake everyone by the shoulders and say, “No, no, no! You can’t do this!”
I’m pretty sure I’m not alone here. I notice a swell of anger and frustration erupting but where is it supposed to go? What are we supposed to do? Some are taking to the streets. Others are writing petitions or conversing with elected officials. I’m doing the same but it doesn’t feel like enough. And then I think about Diipavali. The word comes from dīpa, which means lamp or light, and āvali, which means a row, a range, continuous line, series. Essentially a lot of little lights can conquer darkness. One by one by one our actions add up to something bright and Diipavali reminds me of that.
I dream of a world where we have faith light drives out darkness. A world where we believe good conquers evil. A world where we remember our little actions coalesce into something bigger than us and creates a better world for all of us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Normally I don’t blog when I’m on vacation, but considering we’re coming upon a new year and all, it didn’t seem right to skip this Sunday.
En route to California from Seattle, my plane skimmed the clouds, right in between two layers. As I looked out the window, I saw the barest hint of a rainbow, and it seemed like a good metaphor for the coming year. This year, 2013, has been rough. I’ve experienced a lot of upheaval on a physical level, but also an emotional one. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much in my life as I have this year. I’ve felt like carbon, pressurized until it turns into a diamond — the final result may be pretty, but the process is painful.
A close approximation of what I saw.
I don’t know what 2014 has in store for me, or for any of us, but I see the barest hint of a rainbow, foretelling beauty after a storm, peace after tumult, and color after gray. I don’t know whether 2014 will be a “good” year or a “bad” year, but I get the feeling something good is just out of reach, it’s on the horizon, and if I wait a little longer my patience will be rewarded.
Maybe you, too, have had a rough year. Maybe at times the pain has felt excruciating. Maybe you’ve asked yourself over and over again, “What am I doing here?” Maybe you’ve wanted to run away from it all, start fresh somewhere else. Maybe you don’t even know where your fresh start lies. If that’s you, I want to say, “You’re not alone.” I can’t guarantee your 2014 will be better, but I certainly hope it is. My wish for 2014 is that we all find serenity, that all of our needs are met. That we feel loved, held, and nurtured. That we know we are doing a great job taking care of ourselves.
In particular, I dream of a world that becomes a brighter and brighter place as we set the world on fire with our love and passion. A world where we serve others, where we look out for the little guy. A world where no one is left behind. A world where we understand things don’t become better unless we make it so. A world where we all see the barest hint of a rainbow.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week a friend of mine sent me a power point presentation about a professor holding a cup. The story goes like this:
A professor walked into class one day and held up a cup of water for all to see. The professor asked, “How much do you think this cup weighs?”
The students answered, “50g! 100g! 125g!”
“I really don’t know unless I weigh it,” the professor said. “But my question is what would happen if I held the cup like this for a few minutes?”
“Nothing.”
“What would happen if I held it up like this for an hour?” the professor asked.
“Your arm would begin to ache.”
“You’re right. Now what would happen if I held it for a day?”
“You arm would go numb, you would have muscle stress and paralysis and have to go the hospital for sure!” one of the students shouted amid laughter.
“Very good. But during all this did the weight of the cup change?”
“No.”
“Then what caused the arm to ache and the muscle stress?” the professor asked.
The students were perplexed.
“What should I do now to come out of pain?” asked the professor.
“Put the cup down!” said the students.
“Exactly,” the professor replied.
I think this is an excellent metaphor for the cares and worries that life throws our way. Sometimes things come at me and I freak out. I hold onto them, obsess, angst. I get myself all worked up and upset but what I love is I got myself worked up. I did it to me. Which means the power to undo the angst is also in my hands. It means I am autonomous and powerful and I can calm myself down. It means I have the power to change my mind. It means if I want to release something, I can.
I guess I also want to say I recognize I put myself in a better mood by affirming where I’d like to be. Affirming safety over fear. Affirming abundance over scarcity. Affirming love over hate. But I also know sometimes I just. can’t. put. the. cup. down. And that’s ok too. What I’m doing now is using EFT to release this stuff. Saying, “I am willing to release my need for: fear, or this condition, or this person.” By tapping away I increase my willingness, which allows me to truly let go.
Once I let go I feel true ease and bliss and grace. What I’m learning is everything comes from within. The way we feel, what we think, it all emanates from our core, which then translates into how our lives work. We have the power to create our lives and in turn the world. We have the power to change things. We have the power to create a world we wish to see but it all starts from within. Within you and me and everyone else on this planet. We are divine and magnificent beings realizing our brightness.
I want to live in a world where we feel bright and magnificent at all times. Where we all shine like diamonds. Where we recognize our worth, our potential, our greatness. Where we know love, give love, receive love. Where we feel ease and grace and bliss. Where we let go and let flow. Where we see our lives as one part of the spectrum, ever-flowing, ever-changing but always constant. Where we recognize all we need we already have. Where we see our God-hood. Where we recognize our oneness with all living things. Where we can put the cup down.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
More and more I feel like all I want to do is be who I am, to realize my potential, to step into the light and shine more brightly. I feel like much of my life has been spent wanting to feel normal and ordinary, wanting to blend in. I think what I’ve been doing to a degree is tarnishing my brilliance to fit in with others.
I’m reminded of a great quote by Marianne Williamson:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
I couldn’t agree more. I’m a place these days where I want everyone to shine. I think there’s a rampant belief that greatness is few and far between. That not everyone can be a Mozart or a Michelangelo – most of us are doomed to live an ordinary, boring life. I say that’s not true.
I say there is potential for greatness within each of us. I say within all of us there is an extraordinary being just waiting to rise to the surface. A person capable of great and amazing things. A person who can write sonnets, a person who can compose a symphony, a person who can invent something spectacular. Instead of being a diamond in the rough, I want to be one diamond among many. I want to sparkle in the sunlight surrounded by beauty, knowing my brilliance is no more and no less than anyone else’s. I want to be the divine child of God that I am and I want others to do the same.
At the same time I recognize there has been a societal message obfuscating our magnificence. And so I leave you with a youtube video to help clear the energetic pathways so we can become the divine magnificent people we are meant to be:
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.