Let’s make 9/11 a day of hope

On 9/11/01, I was working in a TV newsroom and, when the first plane hit, we all assumed that it was just a horrible plane wreck. But when we watched the second plane hit the other tower—on the network’s raw news feed, as it was actually happening—I realized that this was deliberate. Some fresh hell was unfolding, and life would never be the same.

I was afraid that day, afraid that “Oh, shit, it’s really happening, the Doomsday that we’ve all been warned about that I didn’t take very seriously, it’s beginning.” Fearful thoughts tumbled through my mind, like dominoes falling on a path lined up toward devastation and destruction. I wondered how long it would take to reach the Midwest, where I was, and when the food rationing would begin. I worried about my kids and the world I had borne them into.

That day carried a very weird vibe. I went outside to have a cigarette, and noticed there were no cars, no birds, no squirrels—no life. It felt as though all of the energy, both positive and negative, had been sucked from the Isness and we were flat-lined: there was nothing … a void … not good or bad, just … a void.

But as I sat and smoked, I felt a small glimmer of hope. I hoped that this would finally be the last straw. I hoped that we, as a race, would finally see the futility of hate. I felt like Betsy Lou Who, from How the Grinch Stole Christmas, not allowing someone else’s nastiness to drain my heart of joy.

I felt a swell of gratitude for those generous souls who gave up their physical forms in this horrific event to illustrate where the path of hatred takes us. I hoped that this would be the straw that finally taught humanity that we can’t ever win a war against ourselves.

Unfortunately, that is not the path we took. We ended up in a war that included torture and videotaped decapitations. Man’s inhumanity to man was everywhere we looked, for years and years, goaded on by a fearful global population and government leaders who insisted that fighting hatred with hatred was the way to go.

It feels to me like the sacrifice made by thousands of souls was in vain. You know that song we sing in church, “Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with me …”? Can we do that yet? Can we honor that sacrifice by knocking this shit off and trying to get along?

That’s what I intend to do. On this day of remembrance, I thank and bless all of those who died in the attacks, the military troops and civilians who have died since then in battle and, yes, even the hijackers, for the most powerful message any soul can deliver—Do unto others, damn it, because you ARE doing unto yourself.

While so many mourn this day, others celebrate new life. My nephew and his wife just welcomed a new addition to the family this weekend. The cycle of life goes on. Welcome to the world, Liam. We hope to make it a better place for your generation.

From victim to victor

We’ve all heard the expression “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Well, I know someone who was pelted with lemons her whole life and is now making lemon meringue pie. Her name is Stacey Kananen and I am in awe of her.

Stacey was in second grade when her abusive father left her on a floating deck at a local lake to swim ashore or drown. For him, it was a win-win: either his kid learned to swim, or he had one less mouth to feed and a convenient excuse for her demise. Six-year-old Stacey had to make a deliberate choice: sink or swim. She defiantly chose to survive.

Richard Kananen violently and sexually abused his wife and three children for decades. In constant fear for their lives, the family endured his unpredictable whims by ducking bullets, knives and fists, walking on eggshells to avoid sadistic “learning lessons,” as he called the abuse. When he vanished in 1988, they were so relieved by his absence that no one reported “The Monster” missing.

Fifteen years after Richard’s disappearance, Stacey’s mother Marilyn went missing and an investigation led police to suspect her brother, Rickie, of foul play. Rickie confessed to police that he buried his father’s body under the cement floor of his mother’s garage, and Marilyn’s body in Stacey’s back yard.

Rickie eventually agreed to a plea bargain to avoid the death penalty and told police that Stacey—who angered him by cooperating as a witness for the State—helped him murder their parents. She was arrested and charged. Her murder trial aired on CNN’s In Session, as dueling attorneys verbally danced around inadmissible evidence, e.g., Rickie’s own admissions that he had killed their father, his half-written novel about a severely abused boy who grows up to join a secret organization that kills abusive parents, his deposed statement that Stacey was innocent, and much more.

Miraculously—after years of preparation and in a flawless, Matlock moment—Stacey’s defense attorney, Diana Tennis, finally unearthed a missing piece of evidence that conflicted with Rickie’s story and proved that Stacey had been railroaded. She was found not guilty, but her relief was short lived. Now she had to rebuild her devastated life.

Finally in therapy, she struggled to make sense of what had happened to her. She felt an all-consuming urge to become an advocate for abused kids. She asked me to co-author a book because I—her friend and neighbor—witnessed the seven year process from murder to verdict and had attended her trial. She trusted my background as a writer for MSNBC and knew that I could be completely objective and non-judgmental. The writing of that book is now underway.

But writing a book wasn’t enough. Stacey knew that her calling was bigger than that. Visions of creating a kids’ camp or some sort of advocacy program haunted her and wouldn’t let her go. We brainstormed and researched, and discovered that there are an infinite numbers of programs already in existence. We wondered: if so many advocacies are already in place, why does this problem still exist? Apparently what society is doing isn’t working. We knew we had to come up with a new idea.

And so, we developed our own program, a new concept called Amnesty for Abuse, to extend a non-judgmental olive branch to those who wish to quit the cycle of abuse. The premise is that the majority of abusers were once abused themselves: abuse is usually learned behavior—victims victimizing victims. Part of that learned behavior is shame. Both the abused and the abuser feel shame for the role they are playing. When one feels ashamed, one is not likely to ask for help to get out of their abusive situation. In addition, admissions made in therapy are often subject to mandatory reporting to authorities. Amnesty for Abuse recognizes the courage that it takes to ask for help and offers amnesty for those admissions as long as the abuser stays in and sincerely works the program.

The format is a compassionate holistic, body/mind/spirit method of therapy that addresses all facets of the human condition and family dynamics in order to help all family members to heal and be healed. The family works together to stay together, if at all possible. The program works as an alternative to the legal and CPS systems, in order to keep people out of the courts and in their homes.

We realize that this could be perceived as Pollyannaism. After all, so many laws make it impossible to offer abusers anything other than harsh punishment, in the “eye for an eye” vein. But as Bill Clinton—who knows a thing or two about judgment and forgiveness—once said, “…  the anger, the resentment, the bitterness, the desire for recrimination against people you believe have wronged you — they harden the heart and deaden the spirit and lead to self-inflicted wounds.”

So if Stacey Kananen—a woman who has endured the most horrific things that can be inflicted upon a child—can see the value in a program like this, then why not give it a try? As I said, nothing else seems to be working. Various therapists and healers have expressed amazement that something like this isn’t already in place and recognize the value in this approach.

The program is in its infancy, but we’re already gaining support and interest from experts in the field. We have sent out information packages to some pretty powerful people and, as a result, Natalia Antelava–a reporter for the BBC–heard about Stacey’s story. Stacey and I just returned home from a trip to Washington DC where Natalia interviewed her for a documentary about child abuse that will air on the BBC in September, and on PBS here in the States.

We’re on an exciting road, Stacey and I, and we can’t wait to see what happens next. We’re actively searching for the next logical step in the progression and growth of the book and the program. Are you one of the missing links between now and then? If you feel that you would like to be a part of this cutting edge approach to an age-old problem, drop us an email at info@amnestyforabuse.com!

My Last Confession

I was raised Catholic, but left the Church long ago. It made me feel bad about myself, because of a misfortune at birth—I was born a girl. My parents both went to parochial schools and my dad went to a Jesuit college. I managed to dodge that bullet (it was too expensive for them to send four kids). However, I still managed to absorb an unhealthy amount of guilt and shame because Mom and Dad were immersed in it during their formative years, so that’s how they raised us.

I am what some might call a “New Ager.” The last officially sanctioned Catholic action in my life was my First Confession. I don’t recall how old I was, but it was during elementary school. Needless to say, I didn’t have a whole lot to confess (I remember that one of the “sins” I confessed to is that I didn’t clean my room), but the concept of the necessity to do so was still deeply ingrained even if I did rebel against it. I didn’t even realize that it was still there until very recently.

Last week I was talking to my dear friend Vickie and it was my turn to dominate the conversation (we take turns, so we each get an equal chance to vent). The essence of what I told I told her was that, even though I felt ready to take the next step upward into a much higher spiritual and energetic vibration in order to claim the good that I came here to do, I didn’t feel worthy to do so because of things I’ve done in my past that might come back to haunt me if I dared to declare myself “clean.”

She said something that really made me think. She said that, of all the people she knows, no one has as many self-doubts as I. No one she knows can—in the same breath—talk of being soul connected and aligned with Spirit, with a solid understanding of human consciousness, and then throw it all directly down the crapper by expressing fear of karmic punishment for past misdeeds.

I’ve been pondering this for a few days. It made me feel good to know that so many other people (she has a wide circle of friends) do not live with this feeling of “I suck!” because then I know I’m the one who’s unusual—I’m the one with something big to change.

But how? I have been battling this my whole life—this underlying, sinister feeling of “Don’t even think of getting too big for your britches, little missy, because you are a sinner, sinner, SINNER! God will get you if you even THINK you’re guilt-free without groveling for forgiveness and paying penance, atoning for every single little thing you’ve done! God will send people from your past to take you down to your knees, to remind you that you’re dirt.”

It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps it would be a good idea to go to Confession, after all these years, to be absolved of everything once and for all, even if I no longer belong to the Church or even know where the closest Catholic Church is, for that matter. After all, this is how my early training told me to get clean so I can move forward. It might be a good psychological exercise, even if I don’t ever do it again.

But then I thought, “Naaaah.” The Church and I no longer speak the same language. No priest can offer me the kind of absolution I desire. So, instead, I had the conversation in my head, during an extremely peaceful and lucid meditation last night. It went something like this:

ME
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been about a thousand years since my last Confession.

PRIEST
Funny, you don’t look that old. Go ahead, my child.

ME
Well, I’ve pretty much broken every Commandment at least once, some more than others.

PRIEST
Every Commandment? You’ve been very busy.

ME
(consulting the list of Commandments, to double check)
Oh … wait … there are a few that I haven’t broken. I’ve never murdered anyone or coveted my neighbor’s wife or ass. But the rest, yeah.

PRIEST
Do tell.

ME
Actually, I’m not so much worried about the first one, about worshipping other gods. I’ve come to the realization that there is only One source of divinity, which goes by many names. I believe that each religion longs for connection with the same divinity behind the filter of each one’s understanding of All That Is. I understand that what “God” is, is really Love and as long as I choose to live through the filter of Love, then I have no other “God” before “Him.”

PRIEST
Okay, I can buy that.

ME
(surprised)
Really? Cool. Okay, I’ve taken God’s name in vain on a daily basis. I swear like a trucker and saying “God damn it,” is a regular part of my vocabulary. However, I know that when I say it, I’m not actually calling upon God to damn something or someone; it’s just a meaningless expression to me. I think using the name of God in vain actually means asking for the power of the One to harm another or asking for Its help to do something that I don’t need help for, sort of wasting the gift, as it were.

PRIEST
Yes, but don’t you see that as long as you use the word “God,” you are still calling upon that higher power, even if you don’t mean to do so, even if you don’t believe this is what you’re doing? That is still using His name in vain. Unless you erase, in your mind, the connection between the word “God” and some sort of higher power, you’re still activating the launch sequence, as it were.

ME
Good point. I never thought of it that way.

PRIEST
Good. Now go on.

ME
Okay. I’m going to skip past a few of these other Commandments, because I don’t feel like I need to unburden myself with them. I mean, I’ve worked on Sundays, and dishonored my parents, but I feel like I’ve made up for them both. The same goes for any cheating, stealing or lying I may have done. Actually, come to think of it, most of my guilt doesn’t directly stem from the Commandments, it comes from not being a very good parent sometimes, and some other things that I feel too ashamed to even tell you about—things I may have experimented with or things I’ve done out of desperation, taking immoral and mildly illegal shortcuts that didn’t work out the way I expected them to.

Frankly, Father, I don’t feel that I need to confess about any parenting mistakes, because at the time I was always doing the best I knew how to do and if I’d known then what I know now, I would have done things very, very differently. I feel like God forgives me, but I can’t seem to forgive myself.

PRIEST
If you truly felt that God forgives you, then you would have no need to forgive yourself. You would feel washed clean of any sin, and joyous in the knowledge that you have grown in Spirit.

ME
Yes, but I see the damage that I’ve done to my kids. I see how my wrong actions have led them down paths of self-abuse and self-destruction in various ways. I see how what I taught them, through example, has caused no end of grief in their lives. It tears me up when they bring up past incidents that caused them great pain and harm, knowing that I was responsible for teaching them to think in such a way that still attracts painful and harmful circumstances to them.

PRIEST
Weren’t you still learning, yourself? How could you have done otherwise, when you didn’t yet know otherwise? We each have our own paths, with our own crosses to bear. Our parents are the ones who set us off on those paths and supply us with those crosses. This is why we honor our Mother and our Father, because they voluntarily take on the burden of being the heavy, the one who takes all the blame for our problems until we find our true path to the God of Love. Without the obstacles our parents set up for us, there is no path to self-discovery. So if you truly do honor your Mother and your Father for their sacrifice, then you will also honor the Mother in yourself. Perhaps you really do need to confess to the Fourth Commandment.

ME
(awed)
Wow! You’re right! Gee, you’re good at this.

PRIEST
Years of practice. Go on. You were saying something about experimenting with immoral and illegal things? Let’s get to the juicy stuff.

ME
(laughing)
Okay. Well, I’ve made it no secret that I’ve done a lot of drugs in my younger years. I don’t feel that this is anything to hide, because I got so much out of it. Not only the incredible highs, but also the incredible lows.

The only reason it weighs on my conscience is because of the legality of it. But I never sold drugs, and always taught my kids that they are not to be toyed with. I always taught them that there is a line between use and abuse, that some drugs are used for religious ritual for good reason. I know the difference, because I’ve abused them as well as used them.

When used correctly, by someone with maturity, they can help to thin the veil between us and Spirit, to connect to what many call God. The problems begin when abuse enters the picture, when drugs are used for escape or mindless recreation. It’s like leaving your cell phone connected to someone you’re not talking to—you rack up the minutes, but nothing is being communicated.

PRIEST
I’ve never heard it put that way before. But if you feel that this is not a sin, then why are you even bringing it up?

ME
I guess it’s because some of my bad parenting was the result of drug abuse. I wish I had done things differently.

PRIEST
Given that it’s impossible to go back and change it, let’s look at it another way. Although your children may have been harmed back then by your irresponsibility, weren’t the lessons they learned as a result more valuable than if you only lectured them to, “Just say no,” leaving them to wonder, “Why not?” Didn’t they learn to be better parents as a result of your inability to do so? So, yes, they may have been harmed at the time but they’ve come through it and are going to be much better parents to your grandchildren than you were to them.

ME
(almost crying)
Do you think so? So I’m not a bad person for scarring their lives like that?

PRIEST
(softly)
My child, if you believe that God is Love, as you said earlier, do you really think that actions that were brought about by immaturity cannot be forgiven? Especially actions that are so deeply painful to you now, actions that you regret so profoundly?

ME
(sobbing a little)
Yes, I guess so. Thanks. I guess I should have tried this Confession thing a long time ago.
(wiping tears away and pulling it back together)
I’m beginning to feel better. Thank you.

PRIEST
You’re welcome. Is there anything else? I’m sensing something big that you’re holding back.

ME
Yes, I just don’t know how to say it. I mean, I’m talking to a priest, for God’s sake. Oops, sorry. I mean, for crying out loud.

PRIEST
What’s the real difference between the two? Crying out loud and God’s sake?

ME
(laughing)
True enough. Anyway, there are things that I don’t feel like I can bring up here, really private things. Things I’m ashamed of.

PRIEST
We don’t have to go into details. Just tell me why you’re ashamed.

ME
I guess because I’ve been taught that the things I’ve done are wrong, and I did them anyway. Not only does the Church frown on them, but I do as well. Even worse, when I hear of others doing those same things, I get all self-righteous and judgmental, and declare them to be bad. I call them slutty or immoral, or stupid and wrong. I judge people for things I’ve done myself! And so then I fear having my hypocrisy thrown in my face, when someone discovers I’ve done the same wrong things I condemn others for doing!

PRIEST
This is a very deep understanding you’re having about yourself. Pay attention to what you’re saying.

ME
What do you mean?

PRIEST
You’re saying that you’re not as ashamed of your actions as you are of your judgments against others. You’re living a life of, “Do as I say, not as I do.” You fear having your judgments thrown back at you. You know the best way to break that cycle?

ME
How?

PRIEST
Stop judging others. Allow them to be who they are, to experience what they experience, just as you have done. I gather you’ve done slutty, immoral, stupid and wrong things, because those are the exact words you throw at others. Did you gain anything from those actions? Did any of them bring you closer to a connection with what you call God?

ME
(surprised)
Yes, all of them did.

PRIEST
Then, can you allow others their own paths? Can you allow them to make the same discoveries you’ve made? Would you deny them the same learning experiences that you’ve had?

ME
Wow! No, of course I wouldn’t!
(laughing with relief)
So all I need to do to be forgiven for my sins, is to forgive others for theirs? This is very cool. Such a load off!
(thinking)
Wait, I can see how this is going to be very hard to do. In order to not sit in judgment, it’s going to be impossible to participate in most conversations. Most of the time, all people talk about is what others are doing wrong. I mean, look at the news and what’s happening in the government or the world stage. Look how we all judge celebrities, and contestants on those talent shows, or the people on reality shows. Look how we all love to watch the mighty get taken down at the knees for doing things “we’d never do.” Look at how, as soon as someone is put on a pedestal, there is always someone digging up their dirt to humiliate them before the public.

PRIEST
They are only humiliated when they have not forgiven themselves for their transgressions, either. They are being forced to look at them, in the most “in your face” manner possible. And we all, in our gossiping conversations, are simply projecting our fears of discovery onto others, talking about them in an effort to take the focus off of what we, ourselves, are doing or have done.

ME
Interesting…

PRIEST
So, wouldn’t it seem then that the best way to avoid judgmental conversation is to forgive yourself for all of your sins so you can see others as forgivable, too?

ME
I’d love to, but I can’t seem to do it. I keep beating myself up, with all of this garbage. I lie awake at night and torture myself with it.
(desperately)
Will you forgive me, Father?

PRIEST
I am not the One to do the forgiving. However, I’ll help you to connect to the One who can.

He puts his hand on my head and closes his eyes to pray. Even though we don’t speak the same religious language anymore, I know what he’s doing. He’s connecting to his understanding of God—an external, omnipotent male being with the power to forgive. I see it as him connecting to the power of Universal Love, what I call All That Is. And as he connects—as he fills himself with the Love of what he calls God—his touch stirs it up inside me as well. I feel an upsurge of joy, of happiness so intense, that I burst into tears of gratitude.

I am forgiven. I am clean. I am absolved.

This is my Last Confession. I will now go forth and sin no more. Or, if I do, I’ll know how to forgive myself.

Amen.

 

Technorati Tags: confession, forgiving yourself, knowing what's right, pray to god, priest, speak to god, talking to God

If you can’t say something nice …

The news has been exploding lately with stories about the rich and famous saying and doing really stupid things. They then exacerbate the situation by making excuses or lying about what they said or did, instead of just coming right out and saying, “Oops. That’s not who I meant to be.”

Maybe it’s because that’s not what they meant to say either, but I’m taking this opportunity to learn from their mistakes. After all, that’s the job of the famous, isn’t it? To be role models, either good or bad?

I’ve always suffered from foot in mouth disease. Apparently it’s a Sagittarius trait and I have it in spades. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve said something stupid just because it sounded funny in my head but when it left my mouth it was offensive or disturbing to the person I was talking to. They couldn’t see the entire train of thought that made sense inside my head before it derailed as the words spilled from my mouth and off the track.

So I’ve learned, over the years, to just shut up and really think hard before I open my yap. (That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen anymore, it just happens less often.) Therefore, I actually feel compassion for these people when they get busted by the media saying or doing something stupid. I try not to throw stones at them from inside my glass house.

At least, that’s how I look at it from the 3D side of the veil.

In the metaphysical, spiritual realm, where we see that our words are the magical tools of creating our future, these people are teaching me another lesson entirely.

As you no doubt know, what we speak is a reflection of what’s going on inside, and manifests externally. When Tracy Morgan goes on an anti-gay rant on stage, even though he’s known by his friends as being gay-friendly in “real life,” it shows that his internal world is conflicted on this issue and has now manifested physically as his external tangle of apologies and career nosediving.

When Sarah Palin completely destroys one of the most well-known, elementary school stories in American history in front of the media, it shows that she’s more concerned about being known as an intellectual instead of a simple person with other important personality traits that are not valued in the government. (You don’t know how hard it was for me to write that because, in the 3D world, I really wish she’d just go away.)

When I find myself gossiping, complaining or just saying something stupid (which, fortunately, I don’t do as often as I used to, but I still find myself blabbing like a Sagittarius from time to time) I know that I’m not speaking from my higher Self, I’m speaking from the part of my ego that feels excluded from a happy life. And this manifests physically as the people and circumstances I prefer to be around moving away from me, vibrationally. It creates a world where I’m on the outside of the “vortex,” as Abraham calls it, looking in.

So when I catch myself doing that, I remind myself to shut up for a minute. I center myself, pull my inner Self up and out, and start over. I speak from the heart and find that I’ve turned back into the healer and powerful manifester of groovy stuff that I know I really am.

I can honestly say, “Oops. That’s not who I meant to be,” and start again.  And then I thank the Anthony Weiners, Arnold Schwarzeneggers and Sarah Palins of the world for showing me who I do want to be.

 

Technorati Tags: consciousness, creating reality, inner self

Hello, from the new kid on the block!

I want to thank Vivid Life for inviting me to be a contributor! I’m flattered, honored and all sorts of other gratitude words. But now that I’m faced with actually writing something, I’m not sure what to make my first post about. I suppose it ought to be an introduction, eh?

So, I started out by putting on my writer-hat and thinking lofty thoughts: “Hmm…what shall I impart upon the crowds, out of my pointy head?”

That hat seemed a little tight, so I took it off and put on my spiritual teacher-hat and thought righteous thoughts. “How can I show everyone how enlightened I am, by posting some brilliant words that they will be wowed by and share with all their friends on Facebook?”

Then I put on my beanie with the spinny fan on top and realized how silly I was being. I don’t know any more about how life works than you do, but I do have some fun ideas. That’s the kind of stuff I intend to write about here, and I hope you’ll join me in some conversations.

My name is Lisa, and I’m just like you, trying to figure out what is going on here. What more do I need to tell you about myself than that? We’ll get to know each other as we go along.