Claiming our Power

This writing is in response to neighbors, friends, and family who so courageously responded to my previous post titled, “Speaking the Unspeakable”.  Quite frankly,  I was taken aback by the number of women in my immediate environment who began sharing with me their memories of sexual  assault,  some of them speaking  aloud for the very first time.  One woman in particular, who is in her eighties, had never spoken of her assault before because, “It just wasn’t talked about in those days.”  Another dear friend related how reading my post caused her to “remember”  an incident of sexual abuse at the age of 13.   

It is those who have responded that have given me the strength and fuel to continue this conversation, though in a slightly different vein. 

Recently,  I opened an issue of “Time” magazine.  The focus of this particular issue was, “The Most 100 influential People”.  I randomly opened the page and lo and behold my eyes fell upon a photo of Denis Mukwege, a physician in Africa who is involved with healing the survivors of wartime rape.  Jill Biden, the Vice President’s wife, met Dr. Mukwege on a trip to Africa and wrote the following moving statement about his work for Time:

In the heart of Africa, after a lengthy journey along a sienna dirt road cut through mountainous jungle on the eastern side of the Democratic Republic of Congo, within sight of the border with Rwanda and one of the bloodiest tribal-civil wars ever known, we arrived at Panzi Hospital in Bukavu.

It was there that I first met Dr. Denis Mukwege, a gynecological surgeon and founder of the hospital.  With a towering presence, a disarming smile and a soft, soothing voice, he is a source of strength and sanctuary in a land of violence and despair-a forgotten war.  The son of a Pentecostal pastor, he is guided by the Hippocratic Oath and an indomitable commitment to justice on his own mission to save these communities one woman at a time.

What Dr. Mukwege and his team at Panzi Hospital do is extraordinary.  Theirs is a reality where 48 women in the DRC are raped every hour, according to a 2011 report.  They have treated more than 46,000 victims of sexual-gender-based violence-6 year olds and octogenarians alike.  Beyond healer to these women and girls, Dr. Mukwege is hope.

My heart went out to this man and the incredible work in which he and his colleagues are involved.  I marveled at their strength and ability to carry on day after day treating victims of rape and war, bringing hope to a seemingly hopeless situation.

I was immediately reminded of a Rumi quote I recently ran across, “Don’t turn away.  Keep your gaze on the bandaged place.  That’s where the light enters you.”  Dr. Mukwege and his team, who refuse to turn away from the wounded and traumatized, are the embodiment of light that enter one of the darkest spots on earth.  They are a gentle reminder to all women who have experienced rape, that despite near insurmountable conditions, there is hope.

Repressed memories of my own sexual assault as a child came flooding back during a bout of postpartum depression after the birth of my second child,  allowing me the opportunity to peer into my own wall of darkness.  Not a very inviting prospect.  And yet, unknowingly I had stumbled upon a timely path that would eventually lead to healing. 

 Much has been written about the dark or “shadow aspect” of human nature .  Psychiatrist Carl Jung called the shadow, “the unknown dark side of our personality.” He states that whatever we deny in ourselves becomes part of our shadow.  No matter how highly evolved we think ourselves to be, we each have a shadow side where whatever we deem unacceptable, inferior, or evil about our self lies hidden.  However, the” gift” found within any wound or trauma is the opportunity to access these hidden aspects of self we have unknowingly locked away in order to feel “safe” or appear “acceptable” in the eyes of society. 

This morning I listened to a recording of a somewhat novel approach to working with the shadow.  I would like to share some of what I learned from this recording as well as what I’ve discovered from my own experience.

The shadow is not “bad” or “wrong”.  It is simply those aspects of self we have judged or condemned.  Often we try to avoid, suppress, or wish these parts away, when in fact what the shadow desires is simply to be acknowledged.

 What our shadow needs most from us is empathy and respect.  When that which is hidden and denied is not acknowledged,  we set ourselves up for a fate of unconsciously repeating the same cycles of pain in the form of verbal, emotional, mental or physical dysfunction or abuse.  Those who commit crimes against others are acting out their shadow side, the aspects of self that feel invisible, disrespected and powerless.

It takes incredible energy to keep our shadow repressed which means there is less energy available to live life.  In fact,  a repressed shadow does not allow us to fully experience the “good stuff” either - the joy, vitality, love and happiness that are our birthright.  One’s  affect becomes dulled.  One of the wonderful things about being human is the wide range of emotions we are capable of experiencing.    

 When the shadow feels respected, it will begin working for us instead of against us.  So we empathize by giving voice to our shadow, by calling it forth.  We call it forth (not in public) but into the light of our own awareness in order to listen to what it has to say.  It may not be what we want to hear.  It may cuss and yell and scream and carry on, however we continue to listen without judgment or condemnation.  We let it have it’s say (in private).

 We also acknowledge the people who have hurt us and take them into our heart.  We do not condone what they did, but we tell them we respect and honor the power they didn’t own. We say to pain, anger, rage, jealousy, addiction, depression, guilt and shame, “I see you, I honor and respect you.  I take you into my heart just as you are, and if you need to rant and rave, then go ahead.  I am here and will not turn away.”  

In essence, we meet the shadow, not in order to control it, but to disarm it by loving and respecting it, by giving it what it needs, an open heart and a voice.  We acknowledge its right to exist because it does in fact exist, and after all it survived the unspeakable atrocities forced upon it.

We live in a world of duality where both light and dark, laughter and sorrow exist side by side.  One cannot exist without the other.  That is the nature of things.  Our task then is to integrate the polarities within our own self, bringing them into balance.  We cannot say, “I only want to feel the good stuff” while pushing away the undesirable.  It doesn’t work that way. 

By observing our emotions, we discover how they arise and subside quite naturally without any interference on our part.   A problem arises when we form an opinion or judgement about our feelings and attempt to control them or suppress them.  They have no recourse but to move underground, becoming like a pressure cooker, until eventually they are unconsciously acted upon, perhaps explosively or aggressively, causing harm to ourselves and others.

When we cut ourselves off from the dark and wounded aspects of self,  an unconscious belief is sustained that we are powerless and unworthy.  In truth we are far more powerful than we ever imagined.  Yet, it is up to us to take responsibility for our own healing.  No one can do this for us.  And as someone once said, “Sunshine is the best disinfectant.”

Darkness is a powerful teacher.  Whenever fear, anger, rage, guilt, jealousy, unworthiness, shame, addiction, depression, or sense of inferiority arise, it shows us where our deepest work lies.  Rather than distracting our self or reaching for something to numb the pain, we can choose not to turn away. 

The cycles of pain are broken by keeping our gaze on the bandaged place, for that is where the light enters us.  By honoring our shadow side, our wounds surprisingly become our saving grace and the pivotal point where we take back our power.

The Creative Process

 

I recently watched an inspiring documentary on concert pianist Seymour Bernstein.  Bernstein is an eighty five year old native New Yorker who still teaches music.  His specialty is teaching professional musicians how to hone their craft. As a master of his own art, he pays special attention to the nuances of the creative process.

Bernstein’s life and his musical talent are not separate.  He speaks quite frankly about himself, the importance of solitude and how he finds God, not as a deity “out there” as  most religions teach,  but within.  He does not claim to be a spiritual or religious person and yet one could say that everything about him is spiritual. 

No two pianos sound the same, according to Bernstein, even if they are made the exact same way.  This is because pianos are built by different people and the wood used  comes from different trees, which means the wood is not exactly the same and therefore carries the sound a little bit differently.

In the beginning, when learning a new piece of music, Bernstein explains how he plays very slowly until he gets each part down.  Only after he has learned the piece in its entirety does he pick up the pace.  He instructs his students in techniques like posture and breathing, things one might think are less important. And he listens.  He brings his whole self to the process and teaches that everything is important, every last detail. 

Bernstein is sought after by professional musicians because of his unique approach to the creative process. These musicians are accomplished in their own right and yet are willing to discover what they don’t know as he gently places his hand on their shoulder while they play making them aware of the tension held in their body so they can soften just a bit.  And as they do so, the music likewise softens, becoming more fluid as it begins to flow in new ways.  Bernstein also instructs his students in the art of breathing.   These very precise moves help shape not only the music but the musician.  After all, what we bring to our art form is more than just talent or technique, it is the entirety of our whole being, and this too effects the music in very subtle, yet profound ways.   

It occurred to me that Bernstein's approach can likewise be applied to any art form or craft, even the craft of living life.  A craft is something that is learned step by step as we carve out our particular expression; it doesn’t come in one magnificent flash, unless of course it does.  We bring our attention to it by being fully present.  Nothing is irrelevant.  Everything matters.  And if a log falls across our path, we step over it and keep going (Bernstein’s analogy).

In his younger days, Bernstein was a concert pianist.  However, he quit performing publicly when he was fifty because he says he was tired of the pressure, the stage fright, and the whole social scene.  Instead, he began teaching piano, which he says is his first love anyway.  Thirty five years later, at the age of eighty five, actor and friend Ethan Hawk (producer of the documentary) asked Bernstein if he would consider performing for his theater group in New York.  Bernstein decided to accept  the offer.

On the evening of his performance, the piano was positioned in front of a large picture window overlooking the busy streets of New York.  Passersby would stop to watch him play, some even snapping photographs.  I thought to myself, “Why don’t they shut the curtains!”  But they didn’t need to shut the curtains.  Bernstein was not in the least perturbed by the passing scenes outside the window.  He played with unwavering focus and elegance. It was like music from heaven. Now you see why I say he is truly a spiritual person.  You cannot play music like that unless you are infused with spirit, because as the music enters the listener, it effects the whole mind, body and spirit, and one is changed by being in his presence.