Beloved

B for Beloved. Rumi and Hafiz, the Sufi poets, write about the Beloved.

The Beloved is God and God is the Beloved.

I like thinking of God as the Beloved. That makes sense to me. God should be Beloved, most Beloved of all.

But sometimes I feel abandoned and lost and stressed and grumpy and it feels as if I am longing hopelessly for a connection with the Beloved. Rumi says in his poems that it is the longing itself that is the connection to the Beloved. Then my inner devil gets annoyed and sarcastic and says, “That’s stupid. That’s a Catch-22. So why is the Beloved Beloved if suffering longing is the way to reach Her or Him?” My inner angel gets involved and is all serene and untroubled and says, “Of course longing is a doorway to the Beloved.” Then they both get out flaming swords and proceed to fight. They can’t kill each other though they try. And I sigh and say to the Beloved, “They don’t behave.” Then the angel and the devil both turn on me and say that I should love each one of them best. “No.” I say. “I love the Beloved best, but you are both part of the Beloved so if everything is loved, then you are both loved best.” Then the angel and devil point to each other and say how the other one is just horribly wrong….. they just go on.

Angel

I am in the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge and I am already late… that is, I did not post yesterday, my “A” day. I didn’t know what my theme for the month would be this morning. This morning, I am reading Micheal A. Singer’s The Untethered Soul and I found what I would be writing about.

I have written about my inner angel and devil before. That voice inside that talks all the time and makes judgements and gets excited about everything. Mr. Singer says that that voice is not us. That voice is like a roommate who talks constantly and is very dramatic. He talks about stepping back and watching that roommate and listening. If the roommate were a real person, we would cut them off. “Stop talking!” we would yell. But they won’t and they wouldn’t and we cannot get away.

So when that voice gets really irritating I call on my angel and devil to take over. They argue. The angel always says “Forgive.” The devil wants to whack the angel over the head with a hammer to shut them up. The angel forgives the devil for being nasty. The devil gets even more nasty and sarcastic and then I start laughing. The inner angel and inner devil are so over the top. Perhaps someone stepped on my toe and it hurt. The devil suggests what to say to them, where they should go, how to punish them. The devil is unreasonable and suggests punishments that are so far beyond the original insult that the angel appears and says, “Stop that. You aren’t being nice.” The devil swears. The angel says, “Well, your toe doesn’t hurt anymore does it and anyhow someone pushed the person who stepped on your toe so it wasn’t their fault and why did you come to a crowded concert if you can’t tolerate your toe being stepped on?” Then they may continue to fight for a while. At the concert I am laughing, inappropriately, because of the inner dialogue.

Today I want to thank that inner angel for all the times that she or he has calmed me down. Has stepped forward and said, “Stop reacting.” For being loving all the time.

Thank you, angel.

And here are synchronized swimmers, practicing before a competition. In the competition, they will not wear the swim cap or the goggles. This is a lift, remember, where none of them touch the bottom of the pool. It is all supported by the girls swimming. This is a team of eight, so four are supporting from under water, holding their breath. Trust and teamwork.

Falling

I was asked to write a poem from the perspective of the angels in my dream.

Falling

We are stars
We are born
We are made to burn
We flame
We explode or burn out
We are made to die

We are angels
We are made to fall
We all fall
We are white falling in black space
Or black falling in white space
If you prefer
It doesn’t matter
It is the contrast that is important
There is no light without dark

We are angels
We are made to fall
We all fall

Do you fear
your fear?
your anger?
your grief?
falling?
death?

We fall for you

If you reject
your fear
your anger
your grief
falling
death

We will fall for you
We accept falling

All must fall

If you accept
your fear
your anger
your grief
falling
death

We will fall with you

You will fall with us

Niels Ingwersen: My best professor

My best professor in college was Dr. Niels Ingwersen.

I went to the University of Wisconsin, Madison because it had a Scandinavian Department. I had gone to Denmark as an exchange student during my high school senior year. I had to come back and finish high school. I needed US and Virginia Government and Twelfth grade english. I chose to do them at the Community College instead of returning to high school.

I went to the Danish embassy in Washington DC and asked about colleges where I could continue to learn Danish. They recommended three: U WI Madison, U WA Seattle and Austin, TX. My parents said that Washington was too far away. I thought there was more chance to ski in Wisconsin, so that was the only college I applied to. Good thing I got in, right?

The first class I took in the Scandinavian Department was with Niels Ingwersen, his HC Andersen class. It was packed. It was known as a fun and informative class that would fulfill an english requirement. I was fascinated because Dr. Ingwersen talked about the politics, the economics, the story behind Hans Christian Andersen’s stories.

I begged permission to write stories myself for the required paper and he let me. I moved in to graduate student classes, because I wanted to take anything he would teach.

I took a class on the modern scandinavian novel. We had five students and him. It was on Thursday afternoon from 2 to 5 pm. None of us could stay awake. In the third class Niels said, “How about we move this class to peoples’ houses? We will take turns hosting and bring potluck.” We also brought wine and the class blossomed. Instead of three hours it ended up being 5 or 6. We would stray from literary criticism into politics, world events, economics, biology, whatever. It was fun!

We each had to choose a book to read. I was tired of books about depressed alcoholics and asked him for a recommendation. He said, “How about Livsens Ondskab?” Life’s Malice. Written in the late 1800s, it’s a mocking and dark comedy about the people in a small town and how funny and awful they are. I loved it.

I applied for a summer honors scholarship, to translate Livsens Ondskab. Niels was gone for the summer, to the U of WA. I sent him questions about the translation. “How much were you going to translate?” he asked. “All of it!” I said. I worked out that I needed to do five pages a day. Some days were quick and some were slow, slow, slow.

Niels was my favorite professor because he was not only a wonderful teacher but also a really nice person. Hard to find that delightful combination, but worth it if you do.

http://host.madison.com/news/local/education/former-uw-madison-professor-niels-ingwersen-dies-at/article_1d0fe552-d491-11de-8d48-001cc4c002e0.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niels_Ingwersen

For the daily post prompt We can be taught!

The photo is my sister, about when I started college. I think Niels made me laugh that way.

My mom loved me

My mom loved me

It’s herself she didn’t love
She didn’t love her anger
She didn’t love her fear
She didn’t love her sorrow
She didn’t love her shadows

She packed all her troubles in her saddlebags
and rode forth singing.

When I was angry
she felt her anger
When I was scared
she felt her fear
When I was sad
she felt her sorrow
When I felt my shadows
she felt hers
I hid my shadows

I hid my shadows for many years
and then my saddlebags were full
They called me

I dove in the sea
I rescued my anger
I rescued my fear
I rescued my sorrow
I rescued my shadows

At first I couldn’t love them
My mom didn’t; how could I?

But I loved my mom
I loved all of her
Her anger
Her fear
Her sorrow
Her shadows
Her singing and courage

I thought if I could love her shadows
I could love my own

It was hard
It took months
I looked in the mirror at my own face
And slowly I was able to have
Compassion for myself

I am sad that my mom is not
where I can touch her warmth
and tell her I love all of her
I tell her anyway

I’m finding many things as I surface from my dive
Sometimes I feel the presence of angels
I was looking for something else
I found a valentine
that she made me
No date
Many hearts cut out and glued
to red paper

I am so surprised

My mom loves me
shadows and all
now and  forever.

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child Sweet Honey in the Rock

I took the photo of my mother working at the etching press while I was in college.
This was previously posted on everything2.com in 7/2014 and written before that.

unbearable

each time
I think
I can’t bear it

it hurts too much

you are hitting me when I am down

but then I know
that I have come too close

icarus to the sun

you melt the wax from my wings
impassive
as I fall
from the sky

you forget
I forget
that the sea is my true element

not the air

I fall into the sea

I am safe
no wings
no air
no burning sun
just the depths
my tail is back
and the painful split is healed

I swim
down to the depths

I remember
that you torch me
because it is unbearable
to be loved

you stand on shore
apollo
bright and beautiful

I wonder if you will call me forth
from the froth

I wonder if I will come
forth

Adverse Childhood Experiences 4: Psychophysiological Illness

I went to the 46th Annual OHSU Primary Care Review, held at the Sentinel Hotel in Portland, Oregon last week.

It was excellent. It was surreal since the Sentinel Hotel started as a 1923 Elks’ Club and the satyr cupid friezes kept distracting me with the marble penises and war chariots during the lecture updating us on urinary incontinence.

Three lectures that I went to talked about Adverse Childhood Experiences.

This is the first conference that I’ve been to that anyone has talked about that study since I heard about it, in about 2005. I have not been to a lot of big conferences over the last few years because I opened my own clinic and money was tight.

Anyhow, the study is creeping into consciousness.

In the mornings, we had the big lectures in a large hall. There were three break out sessions in the afternoon, held in the main meeting, billiard room, club room and library. We all joked about Colonel Mustard and candlesticks.

A gastroenterologist, Dr. David Clarke, gave a two hour session titled “Hidden Stresses and Unexplained Symptoms II”.

Objectives:
1. How to uncover the cause of an illness when diagnostic tests are normal.
2. How to find hidden psychosocial stresses that are responsible for physical symptoms.
3. The process used to achieve successful outcomes in stress-related illness.

He talked about childhood stress. That if someone had a really difficult childhood:
“Surviving a dysfunction home is a heroic act and produces individuals who are:
a. reliable and get things done
b. detail-oriented
c. Perfectionist
d. Hard-working
e. Compassionate”

So what is the down side? “Surviving a dysfunctional home also produces emotional consequences that may lead to :
a. Long-term relationships with partners who treat you poorly.
b. Addictions to nicotine, Alcohol, Drugs, Food, Sex, Gambling, Work, Shopping, Exercise.
c. Quick Temper or being violence prone
d. Anorexia and/or bulimia
e. Mental health problems such as nervous breakdown or suicide attempts
f. Sacrificing your own needs to help others
g. Self-mutilation
h. Learning not to express or feel your emotions.”

Got that? Right. Not everyone, not all the time, but the adverse childhood experiences add up. These reliable individuals may eventually get enough positive feedback to decide that they deserve a relationship that is actually good. They may get angry about their childhood or past bad treatment. “They may have a really hard time expressing that anger because they spent years learning how to suppress emotion and the feelings may be directed at people for whom there is still some caring. When there is enough of this anger present it can cause physical symptoms that can be mild or severe or anywhere in between.”

Let me give two examples from my own practice. I can’t remember their names or the details, so I am making those up: no hipaa violation.

The first was an elderly woman who came in with her husband for stomach pain. We started with a careful history. We tested for helicobacter pylori. We tried ranitidine. We tried omeprazole. We studied her diet and did an ultrasound to rule out gallbladder disease.

At the third visit I was starting to talk about an upper endoscopy. This was more than 15 years ago, back when we did not start with a CT scan. Her husband said, “Doctor, is there anything else it could be?”

I was surprised. “Well, yes. Depression is on the diagnosis list. Sometimes depression can present as stomach pain. Could you be depressed?”

My elderly lady covered her face with her hands, started crying and said, “I try not to be!” while her husband nodded.

We cancelled the endoscopy. I said it really was not something to be ashamed of and we talked about therapy. She did not want talk therapy and we tried paxil. She came back in two weeks, and already she and her husband were brighter and relieved.

Second case: again, stomach pain, this time in a four year old. Mom brought her in.

I did a history and did a gentle exam. The exam was normal. Her stomach was not hurting now. She wouldn’t say anything.

We established that the stomach pain occurred on week days only, not on the weekend. In fact, usually at the after school daycare, not in school.

“Is there a time at the school daycare that she has stomach pain?” Mom was shaking her head when big sister piped up.

“It happens before recess.” Mom and I turned to stare at the six year old.

I said, “What happens at recess?”

“The big kids knock her down,” said big sister, pissed. “I try to stop them, but they are bigger than me. She’s scared. The teachers don’t see.”

“Oh. Thank you for telling us!” Little sister was crying and mom hugged her and big sister. Mom did not need instruction at that point. She called me a few days later. She talked to the daycare, they watched and the four year old was protected. Her stomach stopped hurting.

Dr. Clarke also described a case, where driving through a town would trigger four days of nausea and vomiting that required hospitalization. This had been going on for 15 years. He figured out why that particular town was a trigger: when the patient recognized the why, he was able to go for therapy.

People aren’t lying about these illness, they are not making them up. Doctors have called it somatization, but really it is the body holding the emotions until the person is safe enough to deal with them. Doctors need to learn how to recognize this and help with respect instead of stigmatization and dismissal.

I hope that more doctors learn soon…

Dr. Clarke’s list for further reading is below. I don’t have any of these yet, but they are on my wish list.

They can’t find anything wrong!, by David Clarke, MD. See also www.stressillness.com

Psychophysiologic Disorders Association: www.ppdassociation.org

Caring for Patients, Alan Barbour, MD

Unlearn Your Pain, Howard Schubiner, MD

Pathways to Pain Relief, Frances Anderson PhD and Eric Sherman PhD

Ted talk about ACE scores: http://www.acesconnection.com/blog/nadine-burke-harris-how-childhood-trauma-affects-health-across-a-lifetime-16-min

Between trapezes

Two and a half years
Between trapezes

Letting go is hard
Enough
But then to hang
Wait for the next
On Faith
When you can’t see your way
After a while you aren’t
Flying through the air
But falling

Falling
And screaming inside

Free fall
For hours
Days weeks years

In the company of angels
Letting go
Calls the angels
I dream of angels
Falling in a black void

And after a while
You don’t want to fall anymore
And you understand
Those who end it
It takes great strength
To hold on to the idea
That it will end.

Two and a half years
And suddenly my hands are solid
Not falling
Swinging

Joy wells up
My mind is freed
From the hard work
Of falling and screaming
And I am swinging in the air
Safe

Color is back
Sensation
Sound
Music
Taste
Food melts in my mouth

Who would not be manic?

previously published on everything2.com in 2010, written in mid-2000s.

Dark sky with stars

Yesterday I had my “Armour suit”  massage at 4:00.

Sometimes during the massage I space out and go elsewhere. I don’t know if it is falling asleep. My practitioner knows when I am gone, because he is telling me to roll my leg to the left against resistance and I will just stop in the middle. I usually see pictures and tell him what I saw.

Yesterday I saw a dream that I had years ago.

I dreamed that I was looking through a window and the sky was black, with stars.  The stars started to fall. The stars were all angels, all falling, slowly, down. I wanted to ask the angels, “Why do you have to fall?” but I was frightened. I was terrified. Because all of the angels were falling: every one. Slipping slowly down the sky.

Then I saw their faces. They were not afraid or angry or resisting. They all had expressions of acceptance and peace.

In the dream then there was no window between me and the angels. I was in the dark too and falling slowly. I did not resist. I knew I needed to let myself fall, like the angels. We all must let go and fall. I was crying even as I accepted it.

I wonder why the angels were made to fall. I think they fall for us, to show us acceptance and love.