Blessed Brigid / Candlemas / Imbolc!

Blessed Brigid / Candlemas / Imbolc!

It's still winter, it's still cold and dark, but the days are definitely longer.  In some locales, the sap is starting to rise.  

Brigid is a Triple Goddess of Smithcraft, Healing, and Poetry.  

What creative sap is starting to rise in you?  

Blessed Brigid

Today is Brigid, the day on the Wheel of the Year half-way between Winter Solstice, the longest night and shortest day, and Spring Equinox, when night and day are nearly equal.

Brigid is the triple Goddess of smithcraft, healing, and poetry. Many years, right about now, I feel Her in my life woven/weaving through my creativity.

This year... This year, may I know Her in Her aspects as Smith and Healer. Worker of Justice.

And yes, also, Poet. May I be reminded, again, in my body, in my being, that creativity in the face of injustice is resistance, and necessary.

So mote it be. Blessed be.

Brigid, Candlemas, Imbolc

A good Brigid / Candlemas / Imbolc to you!

Brigid is the triple Goddess of smithcraft, healing, and poetry. What are some ways creativity, healing, or both are weaving themselves through your life?

What are some concrete things you might do to them in?

Guest post: My loved one did not complete a suicide

Here are some of the posts I promised on this topic for suicide-loss survivors and supporters of those who have tried to die by suicide.  Many thanks to Laura Anderson and Hollis Easter for working with me on this.  Names and identifying features have been altered to protect the identities of those involved.  - sm

My loved one did not complete a suicide

Suicide touched my life when I was young.  I was in sixth grade when my cousin killed himself, and I didn’t really understand how to respond or what I should feel.  But my parents, in spite of their grief, were good about making sure that I was okay.  They checked in with me to ask about my feelings and see that I was grieving in an appropriate way.

Far more difficult for me to process, however, were the attempted but not completed suicides.  I suddenly became caretaker, or helpless, or confused about my role in someone’s life.  Doctors would talk to me about the best way to help my loved one through this tough time.  I would sit in waiting rooms, trying to have conversations but struggling for a good topic.  Some of the other patients had tentative grasps on reality (Tom’s roommate said something about touring with a rock band); some were in rehabilitation for drug addiction; some had attempted suicide; some had made bad decisions (such as attending a party, getting really drunk, and then a couple hours later taking a sleeping pill to help them fall asleep).

Nobody ever asked how I was doing.

My pain was left to me to deal with.  My husband Sean had an emotional meltdown a week after his brother, David, came home.  We had to be strong because Father-in-Law and our final housemate were incapable of dealing with their emotions.  We had to be capable of handling David’s needs, make sure that David’s mother was doing okay (being out of town when your child is hospitalized is awful), managing Father-in-Law’s and housemate’s emotional states, and taking care of our own emotional states.

After my ex-fiancé John came home, his roommate and I had to go through the house and remove any items with which John could injure himself.  We had to help him fill out paperwork and make certain that he made it to doctor’s appointments.  I had to call his boss and tell him that John wouldn’t be coming in to work, call his parents to tell them what had happened, while dealing with the grief of my near-marriage erupting like a volcano only a month prior.  And nobody asked me how I was.

I was too distanced from my sister, and we all had the attitude that she had just been trying to prove a point, to show how desperately in love she was for a boy – she would cut her own wrist for him.  My parents and I dealt with the pain by accusing and grumbling. 

Nobody asked me how I was dealing with it.

The only time someone ever asked how I was doing was when my cousin killed himself.  But that was the easiest, emotionally, for me to deal with.  I didn’t have to look him in the eye and know that he was suffering so badly that his only option was to kill himself, but that he had not completed the suicide and was now in an uncertain position with people around him.  There was no awkwardness, no trying to get him to open up, to talk to us, to talk to a therapist, to take medication.  I was allowed to talk about my pain, I was allowed to cry, I was allowed to grieve.

But the other three times, I had to be strong.  My loved one needed me more.  They needed me to take care of them, to help them out, to be willing to listen at any time of day or night.  Nobody really considered that I, too, might be struggling with this situation.

By the time David had his crisis, I had a decent idea of how to handle my emotions.  I knew that I needed an outlet, needed a way to relax and take the stress off.  I scheduled time to drive down to visit my parents and spend the day with them.  They were so removed from the situation that I was able to clear my head a little bit and actually enjoy myself.

Then I was able to start talking.  I talked to my husband about my emotions.  I made sure he was okay, because this was his first brush with suicide, whether completions or attempts.  We sat and cried together.  We hugged each other.

But we had no real resources, because nobody thought to ask how we were doing.  Everyone’s concern was for our loved one, who had attempted but not completed suicide.

I wish I had some great advice to give to all of you who are dealing with an attempted suicide that was not completed.  But I don’t.  Because when a loved one attempts suicide but does not die, everyone focuses on taking care of that loved one.  We have an attitude that they “sank really low” (I hate that terminology, by the way) and needed us to help them regain good mental health.  And while that’s true, we tend to forget that people are dealing with the fact that somebody they love tried to kill themselves. 

How do you deal with that?  The only thing I really know is this: comfort in and dump out.  When you have someone in crisis, you want to comfort that person but not neglect your own emotional state.  So you talk about it to people who are more distanced from the crisis and offer comfort to those who are closest to the crisis. http://www.girlfriendcircles.com/blog/index.php/2013/04/how-to-respond-to-a-friend-in-crisis/

This means realizing that you are upset.  That you’re dealing with an emotionally charged situation, and that you’re not okay.  And it’s fine to not be okay.  Just because your loved one is dealing with powerfully negative emotions doesn’t mean that your pain is meaningless.  Just because they are hurting doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to hurt too.  You need to be tactful and sensitive to their pain, but you must also acknowledge your own pain and work through it.  Join a support group.  Talk to a friend.  Find a therapist.  Go out to breakfast with your parents.  Cuddle your cat or dog.  Cry.  Sob.  Write blog posts.  Write personal essays.

Just make sure that you don’t neglect yourself just because someone you love is hurting.

-- Laura Anderson

-- 

If you are thinking about dying by suicide, please, talk to someone.

This article can give you some ideas about what to expect when you call a suicide hotline: http://www.holliseaster.com/p/call-suicide-hotline/. 

• In the US, anyone can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline free from anywhere at 1-800-273-TALK.   You can also livechat from their website, http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/.
• In the US, LGBT youth (ages 24 and younger) can reach the Trevor Project Lifeline at 1-866-488-7386.  You can also text or chat: http://www.thetrevorproject.org/pages/get-help-now#tt. 
• In the US and Canada, transgender, genderqueer, and gender non-conforming people can also call the Trans Lifeline at (877) 565-8860.  Please see their website to confirm staffing times: http://www.translifeline.org/. 
• In the UK, you can call the Samaritans anytime, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, on 08457 90 90 90. 
• In Scotland, you can call the Breathing Space phoneline, which is available 24 hours at weekends (6pm Friday - 6am Monday), and 6pm - 2am on weekdays (Monday - Thursday), on 0800 83 85 87. 

You are sacred.  Your life matters. 

Guest post: Visiting Hours

Here are some of the posts I promised on this topic for suicide-loss survivors and supporters of those who have tried to die by suicide.  Many thanks to Laura Anderson and Hollis Easter for working with me on this.  - sm 

Introduction

When you pass through the doors of a psychiatric ward or hospital, you enter a place with stark truths on display, in which illusions are to be stripped away and lives rebuilt. There's a profound and unsettling honesty in the struggles you see there. The deep stuff comes out: the anguish, the terror, the shifting sense of what is real and what is illusory, the loneliness, the grief, the anger, the pain. Amid it all, often, you see hope. But whatever you see, the truths carry a lot less varnish here than in the world outside.

The essence of compassion (literally, suffering with another) is to stand shoulder to shoulder with others in their pain. To look, together, at the hard things in their lives, doing our best not to flinch in the looking. To offer support and to be present in whatever comes.

Challenging under any circumstances. So much more so when offering compassion involves entering that space yourself, leaving your own grief and fears and pain outside in a dusty waiting-room locker, working to shape yourself into the support they asked you to be. It's tough, important, exhausting work. If _mitzvot_ are sacred kindnesses without hope of repayment, surely this must be one.

Laura's piece gazes with compassion at the act of visiting people in a hospital, looking with kindness and candor at the meaning and the costs of generosity and support. It admits that we cannot always fix what hurts those we care about, exhorts us to try anyway, and acknowledges that the emotional toll of caring can be huge.

--
Hollis Easter, MS
holliseaster@gmail.com / @adkpiper on Twitter
http://www.holliseaster.com/blog/ : articles about suicide intervention, teaching, instructional design, etc.

--

Visiting Hours

We were there as the only support structures that they had, the people they begged to see, begged to bring them new clothes, toothpaste, play a game for the short visiting hours.  We drove from an hour away, or two hours, or five minutes and smiled and gave them hugs and they would tell us how their day went, how group therapy was, how art therapy was, if they’d managed to sleep in spite of room checks and lights on in the hallways.

Or we were desperately trying to get through to them even though they didn’t want to see us, even if they stared at us with dull eyes and sat in their chairs, unmoving, unresponsive as we tried to engage them, tried to remind them that we loved them.  They wouldn’t answer our questions, or maybe they didn’t know the answers.

 They hallucinated.  Or they were suicidal.  Or they could fly into a rage and threaten to kill.  They were here because they had nowhere else to go, and we were here because we felt responsible for them.  We were their brothers and sisters, their husbands or wives, and we brought their children or mothers or fathers and passed on messages to friends who were worried.  Or we didn’t tell anybody because they didn’t want the public to know, so we bore our struggles in silence and tried to support them, tried to push aside how we felt so that we could take care of them.

They blamed us.  Or they thanked us.  They said they only tried it because of us, because we pushed them too much, because we had unreasonable expectations.  That if we had been nicer to them, if we had listened when they talked, if we hadn’t been so wrapped up in ourselves, it never would have happened.   They said it was because of us they were alive.  We had listened when they most needed it, we had been there to support them, make sure they got the help they needed, insist that they go somewhere where they can’t harm anybody – including themselves – it was only then that they realized what a problem they had.  How they hadn’t realized how far they had fallen, how dark their world was, how wrong it was that they wanted to end it.  Or they wished we hadn’t helped them, that we had ignored them and let them die because living sucked and they were done with it and we had to wonder how soon after they were released they would try again or maybe this time succeed.

We had seen it coming.  We knew they were depressed.  Or that their breakup had been bad.  We knew that they weren’t on medication for their schizophrenia, or they had stopped taking it because they were “fine.”  Maybe we hadn’t seen it, though.  Instead, we were too wrapped up in our own lives.  We thought they should have been able to deal with the breakup.  They should have been on their meds.

We blamed them.  If only they had been stronger.  Why couldn’t they deal with this?  We’ve all been through it and we weren’t suicidal.  Didn’t they know that bipolar disorder created extreme depression or mania?  Why would anybody in their position stop taking their meds?  Why would anybody with depression refuse to start taking meds?  I don’t like doctors and I don’t like pills isn’t good enough, we thought.  Why didn’t they come to us sooner?  We would have listened.

We blamed ourselves.  How couldn’t I have seen this?  I should have known.  We were glad we got there in time because how guilty would we feel?  How terrible would it be, knowing the should-haves, would-haves, if-onlys?  Why didn’t we make ourselves available to them?  Why didn’t we ask how they were doing?

We left at the end of visiting hour, offering hugs and kisses, promises of future visits, hopes that the next day would be better, hopes that they would continue to heal.  We asked that they continue taking their meds, that they talk to their doctors, talk to their psychiatrists, talk to each other.  Whatever they needed to heal.

We left in pairs, offering each other comfort: we had done the right thing by visiting.  We drove home, but we didn’t really talk to each other about what we were feeling.  We didn’t want it to be our pain, because it was about them and their need to heal.  So we stayed quiet.  We pretended that we were okay.  When they were released – if they were released – we didn’t tell them about the pain they had caused us.  How their actions had damaged us.

We told ourselves it wasn’t about us.  Maybe we even believed it.  But we neglected ourselves.  We neglected the real pain we suffered.

But we cannot neglect ourselves any longer.  We must accept that we hurt, too.  That it might have been about them, but we suffered too.

-- Laura Anderson

-- 

If you are thinking about dying by suicide, please, talk to someone.

This article can give you some ideas about what to expect when you call a suicide hotline: http://www.holliseaster.com/p/call-suicide-hotline/. 

• In the US, anyone can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline free from anywhere at 1-800-273-TALK.   You can also livechat from their website, http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/.
• In the US, LGBT youth (ages 24 and younger) can reach the Trevor Project Lifeline at 1-866-488-7386.  You can also text or chat: http://www.thetrevorproject.org/pages/get-help-now#tt. 
• In the US and Canada, transgender, genderqueer, and gender non-conforming people can also call the Trans Lifeline at (877) 565-8860.  Please see their website to confirm staffing times: http://www.translifeline.org/. 
• In the UK, you can call the Samaritans anytime, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, on 08457 90 90 90. 
• In Scotland, you can call the Breathing Space phoneline, which is available 24 hours at weekends (6pm Friday - 6am Monday), and 6pm - 2am on weekdays (Monday - Thursday), on 0800 83 85 87. 

You are sacred.  Your life matters. 

A Pagan Community Statement on the Environment

This is just beautiful -- and it calls us to action.

Please read it, and if it resonates for you, regardless of how you label yourself, please sign it.

You can read the whole thing, and sign as an individual and/or for an organization, at
http://www.ecopagan.com/. 

An excerpt:

Many of our ancestors realized what has now been supported by the scientific method and our expanding knowledge of the universe — that Earth’s biosphere may be understood as a single ecosystem and that all life on Earth is interconnected.

The very atoms of which we are composed connect us to the entire universe. Our hydrogen was produced in the Big Bang, and the other atoms essential for life were forged in the scorching furnaces of ancient stars. Beyond atoms, the molecules of life connect us to Earth, showing that we don’t live “on Earth” like some alien visitor, but rather that we are part of Earth, just as a volcano or river is part of Earth and its cycles.

We are earth, with carbon, nitrogen and phosphorus making up our bodies one day, and incorporated into mountains the next. We are air, giving food to the trees and grasses when we exhale, and breathing in their gift of free oxygen with each breath. We are fire, burning the energy of the Sun, captured and given to us by plants. We are water, with the oceans flowing in our veins and the same water that nourished the dinosaurs within our cells.

We are connected to our families, through links of love, to their relatives, and so on to the entire human species. Our family tree goes back further than the rise of humans, including all mammals, all animals, and all life on Earth. The entire Earth is our immense and joyous family reunion.

By NASA/Apollo 17 crew; taken by either Harrison Schmitt or Ron Evans [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Upcoming posts for Samhain: Talking about suicide

Because I do a lot of work around dying and death, and because Samhain is fast approaching, dying and death have been on my mind. 

But in particular, suicide has been on my mind, and for a number of reasons: the topic for the November gathering of the Quaker Concern Around Dying and Death is sudden death and suicide; I've been having a lot of conversations with other people, especially suicide-loss survivors, about suicide; there are so many places in my life where the topic just comes up, over and over. 

For quite some time now, I've wanted to post some articles, both by me and by guest authors, on the topic of suicide. 

Suicide touches so many of us.  But we're conditioned not to talk about it, whether we feel like we want to die, or we've tried, or someone we know or care about or love wants to die, has tried to kill themselves, or has died by suicide. 

That don't-talk-about-it message makes it harder to reach out for help, harder to grieve and mourn, and harder to heal.

Over the last few years, but especially this last year, I have felt a renewed commitment to talking about suicide, particularly to being open about the fact that I'm a suicide-loss survivor.  A number of people in my life, over the span of many years, have died by suicide.  The most recent suicide death in my life came three years ago.  In response, that part of my extended family has been very committed to talked about it, especially amongst my generation.  To reach out to each other. I've also found myself talking more openly in the rest of my life, not just about that death, but about previous ones.  Robin Williams' death in August also prompted a lot of discussion about suicide.  And I've heard from a lot of other suicide-loss survivors, as well as from other people who have contemplated suicide.

I've had some really amazing, hard, courageous, and wonderful conversations over the last months and year with many people about suicide, being a suicide-loss survivor, and how to talk about all of this.  Thank you to everyone who's been part of those.  You have really helped me, and each other.

In the next week or so, I'll have several guest posts to share from people who have different kinds of experience with suicide.  I hope these pieces will be helpful to you in your spiritual work approaching Samhain, and also in general.

They'll each be clearly labeled, so if you're not ready to read about suicide, you don't have to.  You can also come back and read them later.

To start, I'd like to recommend some easy-to-read, thoughtful, helpful pieces by my friend Hollis Easter.  

Among other things, Hollis "runs a telephone crisis hotline and teaches people how to listen, offer support, help people who think of suicide to choose life, and build lasting strength in communities."  Hollis is one of the friends and colleagues I've had deep, chewy conversations with about this issue, the kinds of conversations which catalyze other work. 

Here are some of Hollis' pieces I've found helpful in stumbling towards talking about this.  I hope they're helpful for you, too:

• Suicide-related terminology:  http://www.holliseaster.com/p/suicide-related-terminology/.  This is an excellent one to start with. 

• How to ask about suicide: http://www.holliseaster.com/p/ask-suicide/.  Do you know someone you think might be struggling, might be thinking about suicide, but you're afraid to ask?  Don't be.  

• Talking about suicide and Robin Williams' death: http://www.holliseaster.com/p/talking-about-suicide-robin-williams/

• Why you shouldn’t say “suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem”: http://www.holliseaster.com/p/suicide-permanent-solution-temporary-problem-isnt-helpful/

There are many more fascinating, and useful, articles at Hollis' blog; I recommend exploring.

If you are struggling with suicide, please, talk to someone.  

• In the US, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline free from anywhere at 1-800-273-TALK. 
• In the UK, you can call the Samaritans anytime, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, on 08457 90 90 90. 
• In Scotland, you can call the Breathing Space phoneline, which is available 24 hours at weekends (6pm Friday - 6am Monday), and 6pm - 2am on weekdays (Monday - Thursday), on 0800 83 85 87.

Look for some more posts within the next week. 

This is gentle, tender work.  Be kind to yourself.  

Being in community: talking about dying and death

I am sitting on the patio, doing preparation for the workshop I'm leading this weekend on what happens before we can fill out all the end-of-life forms.  I'm listening to the birds and watching a front come in.  I just checked the pressure map, yep, there it is -- a cold front with a low-pressure system behind it...

The summer before last -- 2013 -- I facilitated a conversation at my Local Meeting about dying and death.  It started out as a report from two trips the Meeting supported me in making to Woodbrooke Quaker Study Centre, one for a course on Creating Support for End of Life and Bereavement, one for the twice-annual gathering of QDD, the Quaker Concern Around Dying and Death, and about why I'd wanted to go in the first place -- my long-standing ministry around dying and death.  It expanded to a more general conversation about needing and wanting to talk about dying and death, and not being sure how to start.  It became clear people really are hungry for more spaces, safe spaces, to talk about this.

I talked to my elder for this talk and another Local Meeting person involved with QDD, and the three of us got together and planned a day-long follow-up session for March.  That session ended up being about how we make the decisions that need to be made before we can fill out all those end-of-life planning forms -- the Quaker funeral wishes forms, advance decisions / advance directives, etc. -- and how we care for those who are left behind when we die.  It was sweet and tender and good. 

We were asked to bring it to the Area Meeting.  So I'm leading a similar session / workshop Saturday. 

Sitting here working on the prep, I'm struck by how much I love and enjoy this work.  It's not all grim.  It's not all horrible.  It's funny, it's sweet, it's human, it's real.  It's about being in community with each other and caring for each other.

Lots of other places in my ministry are much more intimidating for me than this...

Who is remembered, lives: Margot Adler

I learned today that Margot Adler has died. 

Amazing grace, how sweet the earth
That formed a witch like me
I once was burned, but now I thrive
Was hanged but now I sing

'Twas grace that drew down the moon
And grace that raised the sea
The magick of the people's will
Will set our Mother free!

Rest in peace, Margot. Who is remembered, lives. May your memory always be a blessing.

-----------

Related post: Margot Adler's "Amazing Grace," without shame

"An Open Letter to the General Secretary of Friends United Meeting"

An Open Letter to the General Secretary of Friends United Meeting
by Helen Marie Staab

Good evening Colin,

My name is Helen and I was present for the discussion at Beacon Hill Friends House this past Sunday. I wanted to write to thank you for coming all this way to speak with us, and to take a moment to speak to my concerns on this issue.

I want to be clear that while this is a deeply personal issue for me, it is also deeply spiritual. Neither my personal stake in rights for LGBTQ Friends nor the current cultural climate make my feelings on this any less Spirit-led. I too have labored with, prayed over, and sought truth on this subject. My struggle has not been to discern the morality or sinfulness of my sexuality, but whether I can be part of a religion that uses theology as an excuse for bigotry. I have struggled with whether, as a youth worker, I can encourage youth to be Quaker when I know that not all circles of Friends will welcome them. I have questioned whether I can faithfully live my ministry as a youth worker in a broader community that would have me hide who I am in order to be allowed to work with youth.

I am honored to spend time with Quaker youth, Queer youth, and broader populations of underprivileged youth, and I can tell you that this is a life or death situation. The risk that Quakers take when we cannot unite against prejudice is not that some straight Friends are going to feel uncomfortable, it's that people will keep on dying, and we will be complicit in our inaction.  There are children sleeping on the street, being murdered, and killing themselves because they do not have a community that is willing to take a stand for them. I myself am not willing to prioritize the discomfort of overcoming prejudice over their lives. To be asked to do so is an insult to me, to the youth, and to the truth that I believe to be at the core of our faith.

Additionally insulting to my faith is the implication that a community can be welcoming without being affirming. When we welcome only the parts of a person that do not challenge us to grow, we invalidate their existence as a whole person. No person can feel truly welcome in a place where they are not affirmed, and to suggest that we ought to settle for that implies that we are not worthy of the full love of the community and of God. Communities that do not seek to affirm all members are stunting themselves spiritually and cutting themselves off from the possibility for wholeness. Quakerism teaches us that we must be ready to be transformed by our faith, and the principles of radical love and inclusivity require readiness for total transformation as well. To settle for anything less is to sell ourselves short.

I'm not going to address the theological basis for homophobia. I am hoping that you know as well as I that there is no possible justification that can outweigh our call to see the Light of God in every person and affirm each other's ability to love & grow in whatever form that comes. The time for Quakers to unify on this issue and come out in full support of LGBTQ rights has come and gone; we are behind. We have watched people die while we discern how uncomfortable it might make some of us to let go of our prejudices. My position on this may sound extreme, and I do empathize with the nuances and complexities that exist in our community, but it is as simple as this: We are here to witness and be transformed by the radical love of God and to bring that love to others. There is no room for discrimination there, and there is no justification for allowing suffering and death to continue while we pick and choose what manifestations of love we affirm.

I hope that you will take the words that you heard on Sunday back with you to others in FUM. I felt that discussion to be very powerful and spirit led, and I am endlessly grateful to be part of a community that speaks the truth so clearly and without hesitation. I hope too that you can hear my words and know that they are fueled both by a deep love for the Quaker community and a steadfast conviction that we can, and must, do better.  

(c) 2014 Helen Marie Staab.  Reprinted with permission.  

Self-care reminders

Child sexual abuse is very much in the news and commentary just now. 

 

A reminder for survivors of violence against women, child abuse, sexual assault, and domestic violence:

You can take a break from the coverage and the discussions. You don't have to follow it all. You don't have to participate in all your friends' conversations about it. You don't have to read anything you don't want to or be part of any conversations you don't want to.

What still remains most important is self-care. We can't help other victims and survivors, and we can't change rape culture, by doing things that jeopardize our own recovery.

Wear your own oxygen mask. Help other survivors get theirs on.

Blessed Samhain to you

Blessed Samhain to you!

Whether you are Pagan or not, feel free to share: 

• Who are your beloved dead whose memory you are honoring?
• Who are the dead you are glad have gone, whom you are glad to release?
• Who was born in this last year whom you are welcoming?
• What other endings, losses, and new beginnings do you recognize and honor?

 
 Also, Happy New Year to those of us for whom this is a new year... 
 

Talking about immunity, or, How to help save a child or teen's life

In March, Madga Pescenye at AskMoxie wrote a lovely, and important, piece about helping our kids navigate the world -- "Let's talk about immunity," http://www.askmoxie.org/2013/03/lets-talk-about-immunity.html 

We talked about this piece a LOT in our house, over meals, during housework, sitting on the sofa talking.  And I realized I had something to write about immunity and my experience.  

Earlier in March, Magda had shared a letter she'd written to her sons (reprinted here with permission) about preventing rape.  In the letter, she wrote:

If it’s not safe... leave the room quietly and calmly and call me. I do not care if you’re someplace you’re not supposed to be, or not the place you told me you were, or in Canada or someplace that would normally get you in a lot of trouble. You get immunity if you’re calling for help. My phone is always on, and it does not matter what time of day or night it is. If I don’t pick up right away, call your dad, and the same immunity rules apply. Call one of us and give us the address of where you are and we will come help.

In "Let's talk about immunity," Madga wrote about an email a reader sent her about that letter:

She knew she could go home. I burst into tears reading that for so many reasons. Thinking about how scared she must have been, how worried her mother must have been, how lucky she was, how sad I am that the classmates tried to rape her and no one intervened, all of it.

But the takeaway for me is that she knew she could go home. That's what I want my boys to know, that they can ALWAYS call home and come home, and they can bring anyone who needs to be safe home here where there's always a hug and someone to listen to your story.

Tell me about a time you needed immunity, or got immunity, or gave immunity, please.

This is a story about a time I needed immunity and didn't have it, and the consequences.

This is surprisingly difficult to write.   In order to explain what happened from the perspective of my teenage self, I have to put myself back into that perspective, where I was as a teenager.  It's not a good place.  I also keep finding it's hard to know where to start. 

In theory, I always had immunity when I was a kid and teenager. 

My parents, my mother especially, made a really big deal out of how I could come to them with any problem, any trouble, and they'd help me; about how I knew I could call any time, day or night, and they would come get me, or take me for help, no questions asked.

But the reality was different.  In reality, I never, ever, had immunity. 

I was nearly always in trouble with my parents and getting punished.  The rules changed all the time, so there was no effective way to keep from getting punished.  Whenever I did bring my parents a problem, they blamed me for bringing it on myself, for getting myself in trouble.  They both blamed me for being bullied in school.  [Trigger warnings to the end of this paragraph.]  My father blamed me for provoking my mother's violence ("She wouldn't hit you if you didn't talk back").  My mother accused me of sleeping with my father.   

I always knew there would be hell to pay if I ever needed something like one of those unconditional safe rides that were so big when I was in high school.  I was supposed to "know better" than to get into those kinds of situations.  My parents said I could call -- that I had better never get myself into that kind of trouble, but that if I did, of course I could call. 

So I always knew that there were conditions, that there would be questions, and most of all, that I would get in huge amounts of trouble if I ever needed that kind of help.

I also knew that if I called for a safe ride, I couldn't count on whomever came arriving any time soon, or being safe to drive.  

If you can't call your parents, you're supposed to call someone else, right?  I knew I'd get in worse trouble if I called some other adult, because then I would have embarrassed my parents by calling someone else, and by letting someone else know I hadn't felt that I could call my parents. 

I had a lot of experience "being in big trouble" with my parents.  The consequences of a safe ride, or going to them or someone else if I was in trouble, were overwhelming.  "Punishment" in my family was terrifying.

I knew never to call my parents, or another adult.  

One night when I was 14, I got stuck between two impossible options: an unsafe situation I couldn't get out of without help, and an unsafe situation if I got in touch with my parents to get me out of it.

There was no way out.  

The guy I was with raped me, then helped me get back into my parents' house without them knowing.

When I was 17, I survived a series of rapes.  When I was 18, I got myself into a survivors' group at the local Rape Crisis Center.

That group saved my life.

Again. 

I had been forced to leave college, and was living with my parents again.  I had to come up with a story about where I was going and why I needed the car for a couple of hours the same night every week.

Finally, I told them the truth.

My mother went on, and on, about how horrible it was that I hadn't trusted her, that I had never told her. 

Looking back at this story, from the perspective of an adult, and not that of a child being brainwashed every day, I see so many things.

I see parents who were abusing their child.  I see parents who were keeping their child isolated to decrease the chances anyone would find out, and to make sure she had no other sources of support, keeping her emotionally and physically dependent on them.  

I see that child abuse put my life in danger, first within my family, then outside it.  I nearly died that night.  But that wasn't the first time, or the last time.

I see how, when I was 14, my "choices" were protection from abusers by a rapist, or protection from a rapist by abusers. 

I see a classic example of how child abuse contributes to an increased risk of sexual assault. 

I see elements in the cascade of consequences that child abuse survivors live with for the rest of our lives.

I see how not having immunity put my life in danger.

Effective immunity could have made such a difference that night.  And not just that night, but for years to come, because the aftermath of rape is life-altering.  

For immunity, you need to know the person picking you up is safe to drive, ie, that they haven't been drinking or taking drugs, that they aren't too angry to drive safely.  I couldn't count on that.

You need to know the person you call for a ride will arrive in a reasonable amount of time.  I couldn't count on that.  

You need to know the adults who are responsible for you won't abuse you because you needed immunity or a saferide.  I couldn't count on that.

Even when kids and teens really, truly can trust their parents or guardians, they are often still afraid of disappointing them.  This is one of those places where having another trusted adult to go to can make such a huge difference. 

I've been very privileged to be able to act as that other adult a few times over the last few decades.  I'm really glad.  It's a privilege.  I'm honored by that trust.  And it's nice to help that happen for someone else. 

Why am I telling you all of this?  There are two things I want you, as you're reading this, to take away from what happened to me:

• How child abuse puts survivors at risk of sexual assault, abuse, and exploitation.  Some of these ways might never have occurred to you, even if you're well-educated in the effects of child abuse and trauma. 

• How effective immunity can save someone's life.  Again, some of these ways might not have occurred to you.  

I was really struck, in the comments at Magda's original post, by the parents with kids who can still call their parents for a ride if they need it, no questions asked -- for example, if they've had too much to drink to drive safely.  That's fabulous.

May you, and may the young people in your life, always have immunity.  Always have a sanctuary, someplace.

Dancing with the Beloved Dead at Beltane

It seemed like an odd time of year to be thinking about death.

It's spring; life is bounding forth.  It's Beltane, a welcoming of spring and celebration of all the new and returning life in nature.

But two things happened: I was getting ready to go to the semi-annual gathering of the Quaker Concern Around Dying and Death (QDD), and one of my social networking friends shared a new video, from the last week in April, of one of my favorite Samhain songs.


I found myself listening to it over and over.

'Cause when I die
I don’t want to rest in peace
I want to dance in joy
I want to dance in the graveyards, the graveyards
And while I’m alive
I don’t want to be alone
Mourning the ones who came before
I want to dance with them some more
Let’s dance in the graveyards
~ from “Dance in the Graveyards,” (c) Ian Holljes; recorded by Delta Rae on “Carry the Fire,” 2012

Walking the labyrinth at Woodbrooke Quaker Study Centre just before our gathering started, I remembered the Beloved Dead whom Roses, Too! Coven always honored at Beltane.  Several people we love died just before Beltane, or had special connections for us with Beltane or May Day, and we always named them, and tied a black ribbon onto our May Pole for them.

Walking the labyrinth, Spring abundant around me, I was also reminded that at Beltane and Samhain, the veil between the worlds is thinnest.  And while we may not expect visits from the Beloved Dead at Beltane, death and life are part of each other, and if the dead come calling at Beltane, let us dance in joy with them, around the May Pole and in the graveyards.  

On Violence and Language (the Day After the Explosions at the Boston Marathon)

I wrote this for my friends on Facebook.  And then people kept asking me if they could share it.  I am honored.  

Also, I am grateful to my professors in Third World Politics at UMBC for helping me to learn to think critically about these issues, and to Professor Clark R. McCauley at BMC for the opportunity I had to do research under his guidance into the development and prevention of violence in political movements. 

- sm

Beloved friends,

When you find yourself wanting to use the word "terrorist" right now in the wake of the explosions at the Boston Marathon, I invite you to think first.

"Terrorism" is political violence, whether it's violence from below (guerrilla groups) or violence from above (governments). "Terrorism" is not actually a catch-all term for senseless, deliberate violence inflicted by people on other people, though that's how we've come to use it.

What happens if, instead of using the word "terrorism," you use the phrase "political violence"? What does that do to the ways you think about and understand the situation, whether it's what happened in Boston, or another situation?

Contrary to popular belief, we cannot read the minds of those who perpetrate violence, though it's very tempting, because it allows us to make them "other" -- Not Like Us -- and easier for us to think we would never do such a thing.

But that is dangerous, for several reasons. One is that incorrect assumptions make it harder, not easier, to prevent future violence, and when we pretend we can read minds and therefore know motivations, we are making incorrect assumptions.

But one of the most important ways this is dangerous is that the primary thing which makes such violence possible is Other-ing. Specifically, seeing people as Other to the point where they are no longer considered fully human. Where we might not commit violence against other human beings, it's easier to commit violence against pigs.

Language choice is an essential step in this process towards violence.

I am not making this up. Decades of research into political violence, some of which I have been part of, bear this out.

So in the midst of this hurt and shock, I invite you to think. And I invite you to refuse to perpetuate the cycle of violence in the language you use.

Love and blessings,
Staṡa Morgan-Appel

-----------------

(c) 2013 Stasa Morgan-Appel.  Permission to reprint with attribution.  
And please do leave a comment here with the link!

Reprint from Ask Moxie: A Letter To My Sons About Stopping Rape

A Letter To My Sons About Stopping Rape

Dear Boys,

Some really horrible things happened to someone who could be one of your friends, and it was done by some people who could be your friends. You're 11 and almost-8 now, so the incident that made me write this letter isn't something you've heard about, but this stuff keeps happening, unfortunately. So I need to talk to you about it.

First of all, I know we talk all the time about how special your bodies are, and how you’re one who gets to decide what to do with your body. I’ve never made you put anything in your mouth that you didn’t want to, or touch anyone you didn’t want to, or talk to anyone you didn’t want to, because I wanted you to understand that you and you alone control your boundaries. We worked on blowing a kiss so you could show that you liked someone without having to touch them, and high fives if you were ok touching them but only with your hand. We talked all the time about not letting people tell you that what you wanted was wrong or that they knew better, and that you should always always tell your dad or grandma or me if anyone makes you feel uncomfortable.

And we talk all the time about making sure that if you’re touching someone else that they want you to be touching them. That if they say “No” you have to stop right away (even if it’s just fake-punching your brother) and that even if they aren’t saying “No” you need to make sure they’re still enjoying it. You know how sometimes you like to be tickled and sometimes you don’t? Well, everyone’s like that, so even if they liked it when you did it yesterday, you should still make sure they really want you to today, whatever kind of touching it is.

Now I’m going to talk about sex. I know you know “how it works” because we’ve been talking about it ever since you two were little, since before you could read, and you know all about sperm and eggs and penises and vaginas and vulvas and orgasms and condoms and all that. And I know I told you it feels good and you had a hard time seeing how that could be true but took my word for it. Well, the thing I didn’t tell you is that it feels unbelievably amazing when you’re doing it with someone who really wants to be doing it with you. Like , better than popcorn followed by ice cream, or a Supah Ninjas marathon, or two snow days in a row. You know how excited I get when I get a new pair of shoes? It’s like 500 times better than that, when the person you’re doing it with is so excited to be doing it with you that they start asking you for it.

This is what I want you to wait for. I want you to wait to have sex until the person you’re with asks you for it. Tells you they need you now, and that they can’t wait, and they want it. Calls you by your name and asks for it.

If you’re ever in a situation in which someone is asking you for it and you don’t want to have sex with that person, don’t do it. And if you’re ever in a situation in which you want to have sex but the other person doesn’t ask you for it, don’t do it. It’s only good if you both want it, and can tell each other you want it, and are sure you both want it. Otherwise someone’s going to get hurt. And romance is weird enough without hurting other people when you can stop yourself (and you can always stop yourself -- that goes along with having opposable thumbs).

This letter is almost over but this next part is super-important: Not everyone you know has been taught all the stuff we’ve talked about. You are going to know people, and maybe even be friends with people, who think it’s ok to hurt other people in a lot of ways. One of those ways is sex. I know you’re going to hear other boys say things about girls, or sometimes about other boys, that means they don’t care about those girls’ feelings or bodies. When you do, I need you to step in. All you have to do is say something like, “Dude, that’s not cool” or something that lets the person saying something nasty know that it’s not ok. Remember that everyone wants to fit in. If you can take control of the mood in the room by letting them know nasty talk isn’t ok, they’ll stop so they don’t look like an idiot.

Remember how we talk all the time about how we’re the people who help, who fix things when there’s a problem or someone’s in trouble? You may get the chance to do that someday. Because those boys who say nasty things about girls may actually do something to those girls. If you are ever anywhere where boys start hurting a girl, or touching her in any way that she doesn’t want, you need to step in. If she’s asleep or drunk or passed out or drugged and can’t say “no,” you need to step in. Remember, it’s not good unless both people can say they want it. If a girl isn’t saying anything, that doesn’t mean she wants it. If she isn’t saying specifically that she wants it, then it’s wrong.

Here’s how you should step in:

1. If it’s safe for you to say something, say something. In a loud, commanding voice, tell the guy who’s doing it to stop, and make sure he knows it’s not ok and he can’t be an asshole (sorry to curse, but by the time you’re in this situation you’ll be cursing, too). Then help the girl get to someplace safe, and call her parents. (Even if she thinks she’s going to get in trouble, call her parents. If they’re mad at her, I can talk to them and take care of it.)
2. If it’s not safe for you to say something, leave the room quietly and calmly and call me. I do not care if you’re someplace you’re not supposed to be, or not the place you told me you were, or in Canada or someplace that would normally get you in a lot of trouble. You get immunity if you’re calling for help. My phone is always on, and it does not matter what time of day or night it is. If I don’t pick up right away, call your dad, and the same immunity rules apply. Call one of us and give us the address of where you are and we will come help. Then hang up and call 911. Tell them the address and that there’s an assault going on. They might want you to stay on the line with them until the police get there.
3. Even if you don't like the girl, step in. Even if she's been mean to you or snobby, or someone told you she did something you think is gross. No matter what she did, no one should hurt her. If you step in, the next day you can go back to hating her. If you don't step in, well, how are you any different from the loser who's hurting her? You know who you are. Step in.
4. Do not worry that everyone will hate you if you stop the cool kids from doing something. Stopping someone from hurting another person makes you a hero. This is what you’re here to do. And if there are people who don’t like it, screw them. Your dad and I will do anything it takes to make sure that anyone who doesn’t like your being a hero stays away from you and keeps their mouths shut.

We have been practicing for this for a long time, for being the ones who help.

Remember when we were in the middle of the knife fight on the subway and we got the other mom and kid out of the way? Remember when we helped my friend move away from her scary husband? Remember all those times we took pictures of those freaky dudes staring at the little kids at the playground? We’ve been practicing to step in and help someone else. You can do it. I have faith in you.

Love,
Mom

--------------------------------

Magda Pecsenye
http://www.askmoxie.org/2013/03/a-letter-to-my-sons-about-stopping-rape.html
@AskMoxie
reprinted with permission

--------------------------------

Thank you, Magda. - sm

Queries for Brigid

Happy Brigid!

It's half-way between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox, and the days are definitely getting longer.

Have you noticed?

Brigid is the triple Goddess of smithcraft, healing, and poetry.

What creativity are you welcoming into your life?

How is the returning Sun bringing healing into your life?

Margot Adler's "Amazing Grace," without shame

Last Saturday, I went to the Pagan Federation Scotland's Annual Conference for the first time.  (I had a great time, and I'm really glad I went.)

Margot Adler was the keynote speaker at the Conference, and she also did a chants workshop, which was wonderful. She closed the workshop with her piece "The Witches' Amazing Grace."

And I had a completely different experience with that piece than I've ever had before.  

I have known this piece for years.  I've taught it to other Witches, to other Goddess-women, to Pagans, Quakers, those who are both, to allies.  I've sung it in worship-sharing, and, very occasionally, in Meeting for Worship; I've heard it or sung it at Pagan potlucks, get-togethers, in circle, etc.

And every time I've sung it, or taught it, or have been part of a group that's sung it, or heard other people sing it... there's been a little frisson of... something.

Discomfort.  Shame.  Defiance.  Disquiet.  Fear. 

Not just for me.  Other people have often made it clear that they feel it, too. 

Saturday, for me, for the first time, it was a completely different experience. 

We were standing in a circle together, in a bright pool of light in a dark, welcoming space, holding hands, singing joyfully in harmony.

Joy and gratitude were like an electric current passing through all of us. 

With no shame, and no fear, and with joy and a simple feeling of rightness, I sang:

Amazing grace!  How sweet the Earth
That formed a Witch like me...

Yes.  She did.

How sweet that sheltered space where magic -- transformation and change -- could happen.  Where I could have the experience for a few timeless minutes of being a Witch and being completely unafraid.

------

We create those sheltered spaces for ourselves as minorities -- as women; as lesbians, gay men, bisexual people, transgender people, and queer people; as people of color; as disabled people; as poor people; as religious minorities -- in part to have spaces where we have different experiences than those we have every day.  Places where we can stand tall without being squashed.  Where we can be ourselves without danger, physical or otherwise.

Where we can begin to learn what it might be like to live without oppression, free.  

May I carry forward with me that knowledge, of what it's like to be a Witch without fear, or shame.

Amazing grace!  How sweet the Earth
That formed a Witch like me...

------ 



 (from Margot's workshop at PantheaCon 2008)

Stalking in real life and on-line: National Stalking Awareness Day

Wednesday, April 18th is National Stalking Awareness Day in Scotland, Wales, and England (http://www.scotlandagainststalking.com/node/67). 

I want to talk a little bit about what stalking is, and a little in particular about cyber-stalking/virtual stalking, and why it carries real-world dangers. 

What is stalking?  

According to Action Scotland Against Stalking (ASAS), stalking includes "unwanted intrusions and communications," "following, loitering nearby, maintaining surveillance, and sending unwanted gifts or messages" (http://www.scotlandagainststalking.com/node/64).

It's very, very easy to pretend that this sort of behavior is irritating and upsetting, but not really dangerous.

However, over and over, law enforcement, advocates, and victims have seen that this behavior escalates over time, and too often culminates in assault (physical and/or sexual) or murder (ibid).

Stalking is dangerous.  

The key point is attention that is unwanted, unwelcome, intrusive, repeated, persistent, causing anxiety, causing fear or anger.

It does not matter if the stalker is male or female.  It does not matter if they're a complete stranger, someone you know vaguely, someone you know well, a co-worker or former co-worker, a former family member, or someone you were once very close to but ended a relationship or friendship with. 

If someone is stalking you, or you think someone might be stalking you but you're not sure, both ASAS and the National Stalking Helpine have on-line resources to help you assess the situation as well as to take steps to increase your safety.

• "What Should I Do?," http://www.scotlandagainststalking.com/node/65, and 
• "About Stalking," http://www.stalkinghelpline.org/faq/about-stalking/.  

Again, they repeat that even if the situation has not become violent, it still causes harm and decreases the victim's quality of life. 

If someone is stalking you, it's all too easy too feel isolated and ashamed.

It's important to remember that it is not your fault. 

Cyber-stalking

Cyber-stalking may take place anywhere in the on-line world: email, websites, social networking, mobile phones, texts, etc.  Hand-in-hand with this is digitally-assisted stalking, with yet other tech aspects such as GPS.

According to the National Stalking Helpline (http://www.stalkinghelpline.org/faq/about-stalking/) and Action Scotland Against Stalking (http://www.scotlandagainststalking.com/cyberstalking), cyber-stalking, although it takes place on-line, is much like "traditional" stalking and is essentially an extension of it.

Why is cyber-stalking dangerous if it takes place virtually?

Cyber-stalking, just like "traditional" stalking, escalates -- and just like with "traditional" stalking, it can escalate into physical violence, including death.

Unwanted attention on-line can be even harder to take seriously than unwanted attention in the "real," physical world -- but it can be just as dangerous.

Also, it's not hard for a cyber-stalker to figure out where the person they're stalking is in real life if that person adds specific locations to their blog posts; if they check in on social networking apps and have their privacy set so anyone can see where they are; or if the cyber-stalker is making a point of friending on social networks as many of the victim's friends as possible, etc. 

Both NSH and ASAS offer cyber-safety tips at their websites.

Cyber-stalking and women on-line

Part of why I'm bringing this up is because many women in particular are targets of cyber-stalking -- especially women bloggers -- because we are women.

As Kate Harding points out:

Being viciously, persistently attacked for the crime of Writing While Female is something practically everyone with an opinion on the matter regards as par for the course–regardless of whether they believe that fact is outrageous and deplorable or merely, you know, the way the cookie crumbles.

(http://kateharding.net/2007/04/14/on-being-a-no-name-blogger-using-her-real-name/)

It's bad enough being attacked on-line for no other reason than being female.  But there is ample evidence these attacks then spill over into real life.  For some high-profile examples, witness what has happened to Kathy Sierra and Rebecca Watson both on-line and in real life.  (Rather than going into details here, I suggest you search for "Kathy Sierra Geek Feminism" and/or "Rebecca Watson Privilege Delusion" for more information.) 

Less high-profile incidents happen to the rest of us when we're stalked in cyber-space and in real life.  Every day.   

How do I know how seriously to take this?  or, Okay, I'm taking this seriously, but how do I talk to other people about it?  

If you're having a hard time figuring out how seriously to take someone's persistent unwanted attention, or if you're taking it seriously but having a hard time talking to other people about it or getting other people to take it seriously, here are two helpful risk-identification tools by Laura Richards (http://laurarichards.co.uk/):

• The Stalking-DASH Risk Identification Checklist (S-DASH 2009), by Lorraine Sheridan, Karl Roberts and Laura Richards, http://www.dashriskchecklist.co.uk/index.php?page=s-dash-for-use-in-stalking-cases-by-practitioners.
• The VS-DASH Risk Identification Checklist (VS-DASH 2009), an adaptation for victims to use, by Lorraine Sheridan, Karl Roberts and Laura Richards, http://www.dashriskchecklist.co.uk/index.php?page=vs-dash-for-use-in-stalking-cases-by-victims. 

I have found both very useful in assessing my own situation.

No, you're not alone

If you're being stalked, if someone is stalking you, you're not alone.  And it's very important to reach out to other people and get both support and help.  This can be very hard -- I know.  But as with any other kind of violence against women, it's that much more important for women who are being stalked to reach through the isolation.  The first person you reach out to might not be able to help you or be inclined to take you seriously.  The second person might not.  But you're still not alone, and it's still important to keep asking for help until you do get it.

Resources in the US

Since all the resources I've cited so far have been in the UK, here are some that are specific to the US:

• The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence State Coalition List.  State Coalitions have lists of local organizations which can help you assess and deal with your situation.  http://www.ncadv.org/resources/StateCoalitionList.php
• The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence links list.  A list of resources throughout the US.  http://www.ncadv.org/resources/ExternalLinks.php
• The US Department of Justice web page on stalking: http://www.ovw.usdoj.gov/aboutstalking.htm
• The National Center for Victims of Crime, Stalking Resource Center: http://www.ncvc.org/src/Main.aspx

Quote of the day

Without the context of a political movement, it has never been possible to advance the study of psychological trauma. The fate of this field of knowledge depends on the fate of the same political movement that has inspired and sustained it over the last century. In the late nineteenth century the goal of that movement was the establishment of secular democracy. In the early twentieth century its goal was the abolition of war. In the late twentieth century its goal was the liberation of women. All of these goals remain. All are, in the end, inseparably connected.

-- Judith Lewis Herman, M.D., in Trauma and Recovery