​A snit visit
 
A morning visit of a snit.
 
Surely, you know what I mean.
 
Someone was not behaving according     
 
to my expectations.
 
I am sure I had given them the rule list
 
which included:
 
         Do what you say you will do when you say you will do it.
 
         Ignore the needs of others.
 
         Remember. my time is, after all, the most valuable.
 
Calm, serene, spiritual me was very put out! 
 
Really!
 
Where did this impatient, blindsiding, sneaky reaction come
 
from?
 
I bite my tongue.
 
I will not give it a voice.
 
 “You told me an 1  ½ hours ago that….”
 
Oops!
 
I bite my tongue again while the snit
 
carries on unabated inside my head.
 
Eventually, even I cannot keep a straight face
 
at its attempt to act like a giant bully
 
when clearly it is tiny, gnat which
 
can be quickly extinguished with a swat.
 
Snit, it, bit, dit, yit,
 
Alexa, whereforth cometh the snit?
 
Alexz, whereforth goest the snit.
 
Snit, it, bit, did, yit.
 
Written September 18, 2017
 
 
For those not familiar with Alexa, she is the Amazon’s digital assistant to whom one can address a great many questions and requests.
 
 

r“Lullaby, and good night…”
 
Addiction arrives with the mask 
 
of a Brahms Lullaby
 
“Lullaby, and good night, in the skies stars are bright.
 
May the moon’s silvery beams bring you sweet dreams.”
 
No more worries.
 
No more pain
 
No more responsibilities.
 
No children to feed.
 
No wars to stop.
 
No loss to grief.
 
“Lullaby, and good night, …”
 
One more shot
 
One little pill
 
Ahh  sweet golden Elixir
 
More money
 
A bigger house
 
More stuff
 
Loyal citizens are good for the economy
 
A safer drug to numb one to the job which
 
will creates more stuff which …
 
Do not awaken my sweet.
 
Sleep tight.
 
Don’t let the bedbugs bite.
 
Rest my dear little one.
 
Children?
 
Spouse?
 
Dignity?
 
Integrity?
 
No, no, no! 
 
Ruses one and all.
 
Just rest my dear.
 
No cares.
 
No worries.
 
Red, yellow, white, brown
 
The glint of steel
 
Watch it play with the light.
 
Sweet dreams
 
No spouse.
 
No child.
 
No cares.
 
All gone.
 
“Lullaby and good night, in the skies stars are bright.
 
May the moon’s silvery beams bring you sweet dreams.”
​
 Written September 17, 2017
 
 

​Sunday Musings – September 17, 2017
 
Here in Wheeling, West Virginia it is a quiet September morning. Outside the birds are still very active. There are, as of yet, few signs that they are packing or otherwise getting ready for their winter homes.  The grass is still green and the fall chrysanthemums seem quite happy hanging out with the summer roses.  Here in this quiet oasis one could be lulled into thinking that all is right with the world.  Indeed, at this very moment, all is right in this little corner of the world.  There are other little corners where all is right or good for the moment.  Yet, most of us will find it difficult to ignore the fact that all is not right in most of the world. Here in the United States and nearby islands many are still without power and many more have no home left to use power.  Active war and other violence are the dominant force in many other places.   Starvation, lack of medical care for sick children and adults, and isolation continue to be the norm for many.
 
I, along with many others, attended a funeral this week for young people who were victims of addiction (addiction to drugs and to either the money or the drug which money would buy; addiction to power, work, social media or just anything which helps one avoid oneself).    I talked with others who had a life free from active addiction for many years and then got busy with life and stuff. Eventually the addiction snuck back in.  One lovely, good man was in recovery for 25 years, but for the past eight has been experimenting with controlled use which, not surprising, was now way out of control.  Another person I know with young children started drinking again. Thankfully today both of these people seem ready to reclaim their lives. One will go into a residential treatment center tomorrow while someone else takes care of his children. Another young man is excited about having 35 days clean today.  The brother of a young man who was killed in a drug related incident is now in a treatment program
 
It is so easy for all of us or at least for this human to get seduced with or  by all the tasks which we have decided need to be accomplished.  I have been up since 5:00 a.m. and it is nearly 10:00 a.m.  I have been to the gym, done nearly 2 hours of emails and other virtual communication, ate breakfast, listened to the news and a podcast, showered, shaved, dressed, ironed dress shirts, cleaned up the kitchen, dusted the living room, bedroom and office, edited and posted a blog and ….    
 
I smile.  If someone called and wanted to visit in person or via phone I would set those tasks aside.  People/friendship are always more important than most tasks.  Some quiet spiritual time, reaching out for support or help in sorting out an issue or revisiting my core values all need to stay at the top of me to do list.  Sometimes I make a little chart.  I write down my core values in order of priority in one column and then in the other column I estimate the hours I spent on each one in a day or a week.   To help keep myself honest I may share this with a close friend who may, at times, point out the discrepancies between how I allocated my time and how I told myself I allocated my time.  After all these years, I still need these reality checks. 
 
Obviously, I know what is important and I know what I need to do to keep my brain clear enough to make decisions more consistent with my core values.  I need my close friends to help me stay more honest with myself.  Even in my 7th decade I tend to lie to myself.  I started to say that I fail to catch the inaccuracies, but the truth is that I lie to myself. I want to be spiritual and healthy without having to make tough choices or to face the possibility that “someone” will be unhappy with my choices.
 
I reminded myself by reminding someone else yesterday that life is, at best 3 minutes long.  This journey seems to go faster that the speed of light or sound.  Not much is important except how well we love and take care of ourselves and each other.  I know this and, yet, there is that vacuuming to do and then and then and then and then….
 
Will my epitaph say that I did not get the vacuuming done?  Will it take notice of the fact that I did not clean out the tank of the toilet tank with vinegar? Will it notice that the car has not been washed in some weeks. Will it even notice that most days I do not have anything erudite or brilliant to share in these blogs.  Even though I use the blogs in parts to help remind myself what is important I can, if not careful, get attached to writing and getting them posted rather than remembering the purpose of doing them. I may forget that in and of themselves they are not important.
 
Soon I will set aside the list, pack up the custard pie I baked, and head to the home of friends for a picnic.  I will remind myself that we are not gathering because we need to eat. None of us will starve if we do not go to the picnic. It is a gathering at which we will share our gifts of food and share ourselves.  We will laugh and perhaps even shed a tear – or not – and be silly and just fill each other with love.
 
In the words of the infamous Pork Pig, “That’s all folks.”
 
Written September 17, 2017
 
 
 

​A key tag, a white booklet and a hug
 
At least once or twice a week I attend a 12 step meeting.  On Friday nights, unless I have another important commitment I attend an open Narcotic Anonymous meeting.  At those meetings, there is a welcome and then some readings to introduce the program and to remind everyone of the philosophy of the program.  Following that there is an invitation for those new to the program – those new to the decision to want to stop using –  to come to the front of the room to introduce themselves and get a welcome key tag, a while booklet and a hug.  If one or more people come up to collect these welcome gifts there is a thunderous applause.   Usually there are also some “old timers” who will line up to give the newcomer more welcome hugs and good wishes.
 
The white booklet is an introduction to Narcotics Anonymous.  It contains the basics of the program including the steps of recovery and the traditions of how the program works.
 
At NA meetings, the standard greeting for all attendees is a hug.   At other 12 step meetings one will notice that folks are a little more reserved.    They all use the same basic 12 steps and they all have only one requirement for membership – the desire to stop using.   Some people are appreciative of a the more reserved - less effusive and less touching – atmosphere of some 12 step meetings.   That may be largely a personal preference although, in the beginning, most coming to a 12 step meeting have been used to some physical and emotional distance from friends and family. In fact, by the time most people make it to a 12 step meeting or some other program of recovery most of their friends and family members are pretty angry and frustrated with their addictive behavior which has frequently included lying, stealing, conning, manipulating and other unattractive behavior.
 
At the 12 step meeting of one’s need/choice one is not going to be judged because all the recovering attendees understand the depth of depravity which satisfying the addiction has demanded of the individuals – the extent to which the addition steals one’s ability to behave in a way which is consistent with core values.
 
Often if an addicted person uses a professional treatment program in addition to some self-help group (There are a number of different ones which are available in larger geographical area or which can be accessed by via the internet or the phone.) they will discover that many of the staff have a history of addiction and recovery.   When staff do not have a history of addiction and recovery it is helpful if they been in therapy or worked some steps of spiritual growth.     Some graduate programs require that those entering the helping field see a counselor or a psychiatrist to identify and work a program of emotional growth although this is not always true.  I was not required to do that in graduate school, but I did attend a substance abuse/addiction residential, long term training program which did require intensive personal therapy.  Personally, I think the clinician needs to have a solid experience of doing what they are asking/recommending that clients do.
 
The basic message of the welcome key tag, white booklet, hug and the welcome applause (it is said by some that the clap originated as a long distance hug.) is that there is a real person still present; that the addiction has hidden that person of worth; that as one lets go of the active addiction one has a right to be loved and to be accepted as  a respected, contributing, valued member of the community.    The core message is different than what many have from religious leaders.  Many have “heard” from religious leaders that the core of our humanness is that we are bad/sinners.  The 12 step welcome says that the core of who we are is a valued, sacred person – that the addiction and addictive behavior keeps us from being who we really are.   Many of those in recovery or who come to a recovery program report that even as a small child they did not feel a part of – as if they belonged anywhere – but in the 12 step programs of recovery for the first time they feel at home.  As they stay in recovery they may discover that they are able to make friends with or come to accept who they are. One does not, of course, have to be a homogenized version of a person to be loved and accepted. They can be the unique human being that has much in common with others.  They can be loved for both their uniqueness and their commonality.
 
Few churches I have attended have been as welcoming as 12 step meetings.   Thankfully there are exceptions.  My friend Monsignor Kevin Quirk is an exception.  I think of Pope Francis as an exception.  I could imagine sharing a bear hug with him as I could with the Dali Lama. 
 
I suspect that we all have a lot of learn from the 12 step program that welcomes one with a symbol such as a key tag (something tangible to hold on to) a booklet explaining why one is lovable and how to reclaim oneself, and a hug.  There are many roads to spiritual and emotional growth (which may not be the same as being a grown up!) but they all need to help one reclaim one’s sacred humanness. They all need to say welcome home with a version of a key tag, a white booklet and a hug.
 
Written September 16, 2017
 
 
 
 

​“Hegemonic masculinity” or F you
 
Listening to Jonot Diaz speak with Krista Tippett on the September 14, 2017 podcast of On Being entitled “Radical Hope is Our Best Weapon” left me feeling bathed in the beauty of his precise and challenging use of the English language.  His words also carry a depth of meaning which forces me to accept a level of intimacy which I both crave and, at times fear.  I encourage the reader to google this podcast or download the On Being app and listen to it on your phone.  (Jonot Diaz is the fiction editor at Boston Review and the Ridge and Nancy Allen Professor of writing at MIT. His books include Drown, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, and This is How You Love Her.)
 
Professor Diaz begins this conversation by saying, “I’m a child of blackness.  Blackness was not meant to survive, and we have survived. And we’ve given this world more genius than we have ever received.” This is his history and, thus, to appreciate all he says one has to accept his truth.  Those who need to convince themselves and others that racism and slavery is history will need a strong shield of denial when listening to this man speak.
 
When he speaks of hope he has to speak of history and when he speaks of history of the black man he has to speak of love and when he speaks of love he has to speak of one’s relationship with one’s body.
 
He says, “But in the New World, for those of us of African descent, we were living centuries ahead in our bodies. We were philosophizing centuries ahead of how bodies exist within, through, and alongside the numinous. And I have to tell you that, for people like us, for people who come out of the African Diaspora in the New Work, simply to fall in love, when you have historically been denied love, the right to just connect to the body which you have chosen and that has chosen you, means that an act of love is not only revolutionary, it’s not only transcendent, but it is the deific. It is Godlike. It is a taste of the omnipotent.”
 
Later he goes on to say, ‘…the subject of masculinity and certain kinds of ways that masculinity enshrines and, in some ways, super-valorizes the ideal of the invulnerable male subject.  I mean that a big part of what we would call hegemonic masculinity –that one is not vulnerable, that one is not penetrated, that one has a narrative where intimacy is not necessary. And when you look at the stricture, when you look at the rules of traditional masculinity, it’s all about creating an inhuman: someone who is all surfaces.”
 
I have, over the years, given a lot of thought to the relationship between sexism, racism and how we learn to be male and female in our culture.  I have also given a lot of thought to the use of language and how that use is designed to ensure that we continue to dissociate from our bodies and, thus, from the essence of who we are.    One of the phrases which has often intrigued me is one which most of us have often heard and, perhaps even used both as a verbal blow and as a taunting thrust or parrying move.  This phase is “fuck you” which I will henceforth abbreviate as FU.    In my youthful innocence, I wondered why someone would use a phase which describe a part of love making to insult someone   This made no sense to me.  After all, love making, in my mind was a beautiful intimate event to which I looked forward.
 
I was very young by the time I had begun to internalize the rules for masculinity which essentially could be summarized in the sentence “Be as unlike women as possible.”  Thus, do not be vulnerable.  Do not cry or otherwise indicate, except with anger, that you care about anything or anyone.  Be physically strong and emotionally absent.  Always be prepared to prove you are stronger and more resilient than other males.  Never allow yourself to be dominated by or even concerned about what a woman wants or needs. In other words, “Do not be pussy whipped.”  Of course, many of my female’s peers were learning to be as unlike males as possible.  They were learning to accept that they were the “weaker” sex who need a man to provide and project her. There were also leaning that they were not as intellectually bright or if they were to be sure to not allow males to know it.  After all, one’s main job was to find a husband and then be a good little wife.
 
The public myth also included the lie that when making love one should really be focused on having sex in the missionary position – with a person of the opposite sex of course.  Real men did not like anal stimulation and did not allow the woman on top.  Men were to marry virgins but not be virgins.  
 
Obviously, all these rules precluded a healthy heterosexual or homosexual relationship.    On those rare occasions when need and situations forced real men to have sex with each other, one did not allow another man to insert his penis into a mouth or anus.  Thus, one could FU without having one’s masculinity called into question. Males could also have sex – fuck – with women without having to be intimate.
 
The rules of masculinity precluded intimacy.  Women have often complained about this.  Often it was assumed, even by social scientists,  that any difference was because of  innate differences between males and females.  Males and females are just programed differently.  There is some very limited truth to this statement.  We  are essentially more alike than different. 
 
Wise teachers have always posited the theory that healing or spiritual growth required that one “know thyself” – that one have an intimate relationship with oneself which then allowed for the possibility of having an intimate relationship with others.  Black people in order to heal had to begin to reclaim their bodies.  All men had to attempt to do this without becoming vulnerable.   Black men who internalized some of the same rules for being masculine  have been systematically emasculated – discriminated against and oppressed in obvious and not so obvious ways and thus unable to fulfill even the white man’s idea of what it meant to be the man of the house.  Cut off from themselves they were cut off from the women in their lives.   Black women were also cut off from themselves as they spent endless hours attempting to straighten their hair or otherwise take on the persona of their white counterpart while taking charge of families.
 
FU is a symbol and a symptom of emasculating ourselves and dehumanizing our partners.  It is also a symbol and symptom of using sex to get close  without having to get close. This can be equally true for heterosexual and homosexuals.
 
If we are to teach our children – male and female – how to have hope, we must teach them that it is safe to love – ourselves and others.  In order to love we have to be vulnerable.  In order to be vulnerable we have to make peace with our bodies – with our tears, our joy, our laughter, our pain, our embrace and, yes, our ability to love and make love with our partner/spouse.  Only then can we become a ‘we’ who can have the power to create a more just world.   I strongly suspect that a piece of the opioid epidemic is the fear of being vulnerable.  All treatment programs for addiction recognize that our strength paradoxically lies in being vulnerable with ourselves and with others. 
 
Written September 15, 2017
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

​Grandma says: “We need to get ready for our guests.”
 
As a child and even as a young man, I was aware that Grandma Fannie seemed to spend a lot of time at funerals. Well, actually, that is not entirely accurate.  Grandma Fannie seemed to spend a lot of time cooking food, brewing large pots of coffee, and baking to either take to the home of someone who was grieving the loss of a family member or to serve at her home.  The older I and my grandparents got, the more often it seemed that others were bringing themselves and, of course, food to the home of my grandparents.   In those days, I did not think much about the fact that there was always lots of fresh or canned food and gallons of coffee.  In addition to what was grown or raised on the farm there were many store-bought items including ingredients for cooking and baking. Certainly, there were no coffee plants or sugar cane on the farm in Oklahoma.
 
No matter how many people came there was always room and food for more.    The first house that I remember my grandparents living in was, I think, a small three room shotgun house similar to the house that I, my parents, and my 3 and then 4 siblings lived in for at least 10 years.  I have no idea of how they managed to host so many people or even store dishes or supplies.  If it was summer and the weather permitted, the primary living room was the yard. There was also an endless supply of chairs, picnic tables or card tables to hold people and food.
 
I also remember hugs, tears and laughter at these gatherings.  There seemed to be little time just to sit and grieve. As a child and a young man Grandma Fannie would often remind me and my siblings that “We have to get ready for our guests.”   Little did I understand that grief was largely channeled into nurturing all those who came to celebrate the life of the person who had died.  Later there might be time when sharing coffee and pie to also share tears, fears, confusion, and worries about how one was going to carry on without the person who left.  Occasionally, I suspect that there was also relief that the dear Lord could now be responsible for a rather high maintenance person.
It was not a matter of either grieving or getting ready for guests. It seemed that particularly women such as Grandma Fannie could do both simultaneously.   Grandma Fannie also did not have to choose between laughter and sadness. Smile and laughter came easily as one remembered the one who had died.  It did not take any imagination to summon up the movie of a loved one being silly, laughing or full of themselves. Perhaps, although I did not understand until I was well into my adult years, healthy adults laugh with each other when one of us takes ourselves and this life journey so seriously. 
 
The AIDS epidemic and the Vietnam war provided many opportunities to stare death in the face and to again experience a strong sense of community.  Aging and the addiction epidemic is giving many of us more opportunity to do the same.    At such times, I recall Grandma Fannie and her reminder to get ready for guests.   Times have changed and people are less likely to invite families of those who have departed to their homes although some still observe that tradition.  Funerals are now often in funeral homes and not in church.  Sadly, often when I do attend a funeral in a church I have to double check to make sure I am at the right funeral.   Sometime the name of the deceased is barely mentioned as the celebrant intones the standard prayers only inserting a name when the book says “insert name”.   There is no sense of the community having prepared for guests - the deceased and all who celebrate their life.    There are exceptions.  Monsignor Kevin Quirk is such an exception.   When I attend a funeral mass at the Cathedra when he is the celebrant there is a strong sense of a family gathering.  Even the scaffolding, such as is currently present so that repairs can be made to the church, add to the sense of home.  Monsignor Kevin acknowledges the work being done and says, this is home. Come on in. Let’s celebrate this sacred human. He has, as did Grandma Fannie, been busy preparing for guests.  He is busy reminding all of us that we are a family even if some of us have not previously met. In all our messy humanness, we are family. We are sacred.
 
Grandma Fannie and Kevin would have done well together. She was Southern Baptist and he is Roman Catholic, but both would have joined together preparing for guests.  Grandma would bring the coffee pot and pie.  Kevin would bring the juice of the vine and the bread.  Both would bring heaps of love and laughter.
 
Thanks, Grandma Fannie. Thanks, Kevin. Hum…  Perhaps Kevin is just a reincarnated Grandma Fannie. I think when I next see him I will call him Grandma Fannie and see if he responds!
 
Written September 14, 2017
 
 
 
 
 

​ 
The log in my eye.
 
Early this morning I was listening to a man I know talk with another man.  They were lamenting the fact that so many people “on welfare” live so well; people who are perfectly capable of working.”  They were suggesting that most people getting assistance are a lazy or on drugs or in some other way are irresponsible, leeches forcing hard working people to take care of them.  The man I know and the other person suggested that hopefully the current President of these United States could help to remedy this situation.  
 
I did not attempt to argue with either of these men. Since it as a public place where the one person had to leave and the other was often interrupted with other work duties, it was not a situation which invited a debate or conversation. I choose to listen and to do my best to not assign labels to either person.  I know the one man who owns the small business where I was present is an enormously kind man.  I also know that he works very hard. As is often true with small business owners he works alongside of the few people who work for/with him.  He often talks lovingly of his family and talks of praying for family members if they are dealing with some sad or difficult situation. I have never seen him mistreat anyone or even talk unkindly to anyone.  He has always treated me with love and respect.
 
The other man indicated that he was also a small business owner He lamented that he also often works long hours. This is true for many of us who own and operate a small business.
 
Once again I was forced to attempt to look at a situation from the viewpoint of another person.  What is that they observe when seeing someone who is using food stamps (which they mentioned) or reveals that they are getting some sort of assistance?  They may see a person(s) who:
 

• Appears to be very abled bodied and able to work.
• Is purchasing what some call “luxury/non-essential items” with their food stamps.
• Is living in a house which seems to be very nice and might, in fact be nicer than the one which the observer owns or rents.
• Someone who the observer is working long, exhausting hours to help support.

 
In other words, they are seeing a very limited slice of the individual(s) and their life.  They may not be seeing:
 

• The fact that for many of disability or receiving assistance their ability to be functional is not consistent. They may be able to function pretty well for short, intermittent period of time.   They may not be able to predict when or if they are going to be able to function physically, mentally or emotionally.
• One cannot buy certain essentials with their food stamps – essentials such as toilet paper, gas, and soap - and are forced to sell their food stamps to have the cash to buy these products.
• The fact that the person may have an illness such as addiction, depression or some other chronic illness for which they have attempted to get treatment on many occasions or for which they are currently being treated.
• They may be working a minimum wage job which does not cover the basic expenses for their them and their families.
• They may have been laid off from a very well-paying job and have not been able to find another which pays decently. The nice house and car were purchased when they were working on their former job.  They cannot sell the house or the car for what it is worth and if they did they would not have the money to purchase a less expensive house or car.

 
In short whether one is looking at the persons talking about “those people on welfare or receiving assistance” or those persons receiving assistance we are not seeing their entire story.  We are seeing the story we impose on them based on the limited slice of their life that we are able to see.  It is not until we have an opportunity to see a larger slice of the life of an individual that one can begin to have a rational, empathetic discussion.
 
If I am not careful, I will, as I have previously mentioned, judge and assign labels to those I perceive or hear as judgmental.  I may fail to acknowledge that I am seeing only a slice of their story. I may fail to notice that:
 

• They have pushed themselves until they are operating on fumes.  They have, in other words, used up all their available energy and feels as if any moment they might have to just give up.
• They may be taking care of individuals with a mental or addictive illness and have no understanding of why that person just cannot do what they need to do take care of themselves.
• They may be fearful that they are getting mentally ill or are abusing alcohol or some other drug.
• They may be very other reasons why they are feeling unappreciated and “always the one taking care of others”.

 
In short even when I know some of a person’s story there is always a lot I do not know.  What they are expressing does not tell what Paul Harvey used to call “the rest of the story”. 
 
It is easy for this human to fall into the trap of judging others based on the rose colored or dark tinted glasses I have on any particular day.  I may feel like I am seeing the entire reality but I am only seeing a small slice of that reality.
 
It has been said by a very wise man that one might want to take the log out of one’s own eye before seeing clearly enough to take the speck from the eye of my brother.
 
I have again been reminded that I am often guilty to doing what I accuse others of doing.  Perhaps I can now look my brother (or sister) in the eye and have a genuine, compassionate discussion. At least I can better prepare myself to do that.
 
Written September 13, 2017
 
 
 
 

​Sexual addiction/compulsion, forgiveness
 
As a father, I can well understand that parents find it very difficult to be forgiving of those who abuse their children.  In fact, most people find it very difficult.  It seems that when it comes to what some would call sin and what others would call compulsive illness, addiction - some would just call it bad behavior - there is a hierarchy that goes from bad to forgivable to unforgivable.   This seems to be especially true when a person hurts someone sexually – especially a child.  Many believe that when someone hurts a child sexually they have made it to the unforgivable slot.  I get this.  No parent likes to face the fact that they are helpless to protect their children. Thus, it is easy for parents and others to believe that if we can just get all the bad people off the street and in jail or prisons we can make it safer for our children.  Yet we know that locking up everyone whose mind is not able to respect or honor the rights of others is not practicable and does not in the long term create a safer community.
 
In the very popular novel The Shack William Young challenged the belief that a person who abducts, abuses and kills a child is beyond forgiveness.   I was fascinated by the fact that this book became such a huge success.  Yet, despite the success of this book and the challenge by the author that the Christian God offers compassionate and forgiveness even to the man who does this, it seems I am daily confronted by the assertion that justice demands that one withhold forgiveness and understanding from those who sexually abuse others, but especially those who sexually abuse children. Even those who may be imprisoned for murder and other violent crimes are frequently judgmental of those who commit sexual crimes. Every state in the States has a sexual offenders list which is published and a set of rules which judge and restrict the activity of the anyone on the list.  In some sates one is on it for life and in others, it is for a more limited time.  This list which may have been intended to help protect others seems to give permission to abuse those who have been convicted of a sexual offense.
 
Just today I received a message from someone I know to be a very spiritual, compassionate person asking me to pass along a notice about a “creep” who has sexually abused a child.   It is entirely possible that this person who may have sexually abused a child needs to be in a protective environment.  Yet, are they a creep? Does labeling him a creep create a more loving, safer community?  Does he and others who may have a seemingly uncontrollable urge to abuse children deserve our love and compassion?  I think that they do.  I have no idea of why some individuals have a compulsive/addictive need to have sex with young children no matter what the consequences. Neither do I have any idea why the thousands who are on a sexual offender list may have a compulsive need to act out sexually. I do know that everyone I know who has engaged in that behavior hates their behavior, even if they justify it in an attempt to try to somehow makes sense of it.  After all, who can live with themselves and know that they willfully hurt others sexually and/or otherwise. I have worked for/with a lot of so called sexual offenders and I have yet to meet one who sat down one day and said, “I want to be a person with a compulsive/addictive sexual disorder.” I have met priests, ministers, laborers, professionals and other who had everything to lose and, yet, were unable to control their behavior.    Some with the help of 12 step programs are able to stop their abusive behavior.   In order to become involved in a 12-step program one must first admit to themselves and then to others that they have a disorder  which is considered reprehensible by most of the community and about which they have been taught to be shameful.  That is not an easy step.  They also know if they tell a professional - counselor/psychiatrist or social worker, minister or doctor -  that professional may be required by law to report them to law enforcement authorities.  They will then likely face criminal proceedings.
 
I refuse to label a sexual offender as a creep, an evil person or as someone who the God of my understanding is unable to love.  I also believe that we need to quit labeling them as criminals even though some may need to be placed in a protected environment.  
At the same time, we need to do all we can to be supportive of the children, the parents of the children and all others who are abused in any way.
 
Punishing others for behavior which is not a choice make no sense to me. I do understand that we would all like to think that each of us has a lot of control over our actions.  None of us wants to entertain the possibility that we could be one of those “creeps” or “evil” persons undeserving of love or forgiveness.  We may very reluctantly accept some mental illness as beyond the control of certain people, but even that seems difficult for much of our society to accept.   Even when someone is determined to be legally insane, they can, at times, following a period of treatment, be tried as a criminal in our courts.
 
I believe it is imperative that when viewing the sexual offender, we acknowledge that it could be us.   None of us should feel superior for not having a compulsive or addictive need to act out sexually with children or anyone.  I am blessed to not have that disorder or any other mental disorder today. Today it seems to me that I can make choices consistent with my values. Tomorrow I may wake up with a brain that functions much differently.
 
Perhaps one day we will be able to repair the brain of those with damaging compulsive or addictive disorders. Research results today tells us more about the human brain. In the meantime, common sense, as well as compassion, demands that we accept that compulsive/additive behavior needs to be treated and not punished. In those cases we cannot yet offer effective treatment, we need to offer compassionate options which may, at times, include being placed in a protective environment.
 
Written September 12, 2017

​Humanness revisited
 
I was driving back from an appointment in Pittsburgh today listening to a rebroadcast of the September 10, 2017 interview of Hilary Clinton with “Sunday Morning” anchor Jane Pauley.  There is much that I admire about Mrs. Clinton or anyone who has the courage and the stamina to open themselves and all they say and do to the scrutiny of the public.   It is enough that I publish a daily blog for an audience which is miniscule compared to that of a presidential candidate or any other politician.  Anytime anyone says that they have read my blog, I hold my breath wondering if I will again be forced to defend or apologize for something I wrote or for something someone inferred from what they thought I implied.
 
I certainly do not think badly of Mrs. Clinton for having said or done some things during the presidential campaign which may have been more lovingly, succinctly and empathically expressed.
 
For example, Mrs. Paulely asked Mrs. Clinton about her comment that
“You could put half of Trump’s supporters into what I call the basket of deplorables.”
 
During the conversation with Ms. Pauley  the only concession that Mrs. Clinton seems to make is “I am sorry I gave him a political gift of any kind.” She does not directly apologize for calling one half of Trump’s supporters deplorables.  She does go on to say that she “thought Trump was behaving in a deplorable manner.  I thought a lot of his appeals to voters were deplorable.”
She also seems, during this interview, to continue to downplay her deception about her use of a personal email account. She does say that the use of the personal account was one of her biggest mistakes.  Yet, it is difficult to determine from what she says whether she regrets not being more forthright about the emails after it was first raised or she regrets others found out she was dishonest.
I do not think that Mrs. Clinton is noticeably different that President Trump,  many other politicians or the rest of us.  We all seem to find it difficult to admit that we have made many mistakes and often do not seem:          
 
“… heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all-good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to sin no more and to avoid the near occasions of sin.” (Catholic prayer of contrition)
 
If a political person such as a recent president dares to suggest that perhaps the United States as a country has made some serious errors of judgment and behavior, they are criticized as being disloyal or un-American. 
 
I am very sad that many seem willing to overlook and/or tolerate some of the mean and unkind things which our current President as said. I am very sad that he seems to be able to divide people into the good and deserving people and the bad and undeserving people (my paraphrase).  I am equally sad that Mrs. Clinton seems to be able to view a segment of people who are in pain – who want to be counted as deserving – as deplorables.  I do not think that they are deplorable any more than I think Hilary or Donald are deplorable. I do think that they mirror they difficulty many, if not most of we humans, have in saying we are sorry – that we have erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep.  
 
Although my experience of some religious leaders has left me feeling as if I am such a bad person – such a terrible sinner – that I am undeserving of love – my understanding is that most religious or spiritual philosophies teach that we are only free to move toward being our best when we admit we made a mistake or have been hurtful to ourselves or others.   I do not believe that it is beneficial to obsess about our propensity to make mistakes, but I do think that there is freedom from being accountable – from saying: “I was wrong or bad or inappropriate. I am sorry.  I am going to do my best not to repeat that behavior.  Let’s now move on.”
 
Apparently, we all need to model contrition in hopes that even our politicians can be more accepting of their own humanness – of their own vulnerability – of their mistakes.   Albert Einstein is often credited as saying: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.”    Perhaps it would behoove each of use to ponder this possible truth.  Perhaps even our esteemed political “leaders” could ponder this possible truth.
 
Written September 11, 2017
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

​Sunday Musings – September 10, 2017
 
For those not familiar with the 12-step program, the first step is:
 
“We admitted that we were powerless over X – that our lives have become unmanageable.”    It is not surprising that those using the 12-step program for recovery from active addiction also often pray the first part of the prayer which is attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr (19892-1971).
 
God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things
I cannot change,
 
The courage to change the
things I can, and the
wisdom to know the difference.
 
I cannot think of a day when I do not have a reminder that if I want any peace of mind I should pray this prayer. I have to remind myself to accept that I do not have any power over other people, places or things.  I may, on occasion, have influence over someone or something and certainly my energy affects all that I directly and indirectly touch, but I am powerless to function other than in synch with the dance of the universe.
 
Some days or weeks it seems that I have more reminders of my powerlessness than others. This past couple of weeks’ hurricanes visiting Texas and Louisiana, much of the Caribbean and today Florida and all the resulting side effects such as many individuals and families now being homeless, rising gas prices and the scarcity of workers to repair and rebuild have been particularly poignant reminders of my lack of power.    The fact that I continued this week to work with/for many struggling with addiction have also given me the “gift” of being forced to practice this prayer.  Many of those I know and many I do not know lost their struggle to hold on to recovery and are again in the embrace of the addiction.  At least one person I have known since she was a young teenager died from an overdose this week.  I had just seen her a couple of weeks ago. She was a beautiful, kind, loving person when the addiction released it hold enough for her to be present.
 
One would think that given my age and the thousands of opportunities to practice the serenity prayers that I would be able to just notice this brief moment in time and be open to whatever is to come.  Not so much of the time!  I rant, rave, curse, beg, plead, offer to wrestle the fierce winds and don my most invisible costume in hopes of sneaking around these reminders.  Yet, the God of my understanding does not seem to care.  I will get these spiritual gifts whether I think I need them or not. I scream, “Okay!  Okay!  I got it. No more. Give me a break. What? You want something more from me! Oh, well, take my breath, my heart, my hands, my feet, why don’t you?”    He/She/It just smiles and keeps sending reminders until I am no longer able to fight.
 
Those is 12 step program might, at this point in their journey, suggest that my prostrate form is an indication that I have reached another level of acceptance – a new bottom.   I do not always find this reminder comforting. I am still wanting to struggle, but finally I am too tired to do anything other than smile and then…  And then I notice that I am equally powerless to avoid the many gifts which have come my way.  Besides the sunshine today, the cool skin tingling air, the blessing of friends and colleagues I bathe in the joy of letting go and allowing the wind to carry my spirit where it will.
 
Peace. Peace at last.  Soon I am sure that I will again need to be reminded to let go of the fight to try to control, but, for this moment, I can just smile and silently join with all those repeating the serenity prayer.
 
Written September 10, 2017