Today is the Special Occassion

What do you do when the world, at least as you knew it, is ending? How do you grieve that?

For me, a white cisgender woman, it started to end globally on November 9, 2016. I went on a bike ride the day after election night to my usual spot— an “island” on the Mississippi River. Before this day, I’d go there to reflect on my personal trials or to escape them. However, there was a new kind of angst— not only the weight of my personal life on my shoulders, but the collective life. It is not that I did not care before, this just felt different.

I wish I could find the words to express where I find myself now, 6 1/2 years later. I’d like a story or fable that would help me frame it, or to write my own if I could focus long enough and stay motivated. What I do know, what I am beginning to feel is there has been, and is, a lot of loss personally and collectively, a collective reckoning and grief process.

Our primitive brain likes to make it one thing because then that one thing can be fixed, managed or contemplated easily. But we are not in primitive times. These are complex times. We are complex and to think in this way is difficult, but necessary. These days, the loss isn’t just A, B or C, it is the whole damn alphabet and then some.

Just in my own life, I am started to comprehend the losses and how each one intermingles and connects to the others, and as they do their capability of fully sinking me is real.

The sinking has been happening. As I reflect I see I’ve sunk many times. As a teenager I wondered how could one person, still so young, cry so much. As a 50-year-old it is starting to make sense as I am sinking like that again and again.

Yesterday I could not find one think to pull me out. Then my husband asked if I wanted ice cream. In the ice cream line I found myself smiling, then I asked him if he tried the frozen peanut butter cups. Later a stranger approached us, happy and friendly as can be, and asked how we made our “love it” treat. Before this, I watched a small child look up at her older brother, saying “again” over and over to pick her up as she squealed. Once we got our dark chocolate with extra peanut butter ice cream, we sat on a bench outside and I saw the sliver of moon. I didn’t really eat my ice cream because the point was not the ice cream.

On the way home, Neil Diamond’s Hello Again came on shuffle. I cried again, a deep, hurting cry as if I was in physical pain. I said to myself: it’s my mom. She was and always will be my first experience here on Earth as me, Nikki DiVirgilio. Nothing will ever change this. And she, my first experience, has dementia and I miss her. There is a hole in me. There are several now, but she is at the center of them all.

It is weird for me to state this and experience it to be true. My relationship with her has always felt like a loss, but what it is now feels like that sliver moon, it is all that is left and what I had with her was more than I realized. She was a best friend, someone I called to vent to, someone I hung out with. Someone who created a million and one beautiful experiences and distractions for me, for us— vacations, cabin getaways, shopping, lunches, going to the “new” place and buying the “new” thing. Over time all of this became hollow for me, but now, sinking into nothingness, they were the things that kept me afloat. These were the days. That was my mom.

When I woke up the next morning, after several days of sinking, I didn’t care much about anything (balance, right?). I wondered what was the point, especially after reading a Twitter thread stating a very real possibility for the 2024 election. It’s not good. It’s bleak, and it seems the world, including my own, is over in the way I knew it. I don’t really know 1) how to navigate these times or 2) how to grieve or if I even can fully. But the sweater I bought was on my front step. I opened it, tried in on to make sure I loved it, and instead of folding it, tags on, saving it for a special occasion, I took it off, cut the tags, put it back on and decided today is the special occasion.*** 🌙🍦

Be well during this time,

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

***snippets from a memoir I’m writing…well, several actually.

Witness

What does it mean to be a witness to the atrocities that surround us, sometimes overtaking us?

In my small therapy office I am witness to the journey of those who go to the deeper wounds, and to the majority who only need to stay on the surface to feel the pin pricks and enormous jolts coming from their lives.

In my personal life I am witness to the wear and tear of a, mostly inactive, body that leans toward comfort and rest and eats what soothes the tender ache. It’s caught up to me now— the medications need a pill organizer.

I witness the decline of my mother and father, and my two daughters making a life outside of the family home.

And then I, along with the majority we, witness the daily, sometimes hourly, onslaught of news stories that haunt, disturb and tempt to take away any belief that life is secure, safe and hopeful.

We bear witness to a lot.

I don’t know that I have a remedy to process what we see, hear and experience, but I want to name it, even so.

We witness a lot.

And what do we do with it matters. A lot. Do we digest it? Internalize it? Ignore it? Deny it? Fight it? Become paralyzed by it? Mourn it? Disease, label and justify it? Politicize it? Analyze it? Mostly we just keep living our lives with it. Some of us wonder what more we can do. Others get out and do it.

A long time ago I went to the circus and witnessed the elephants parading around in a darkened arena while dressed up humans with whips led them. I never again went to a circus. The witnessing of the elephants “living” in an unnatural way was enough for me to make a clear choice not to participate. But I didn’t do anything more. I did not protest at circus doors or go to an elephant refuge. Then, not attending felt enough of a protest.

So why is it then I can continue engaging in a life where I am, along with countless others, parading around in unnatural ways, succumbing to a way of life that is not of us, not of me? Why aren’t I protesting in some way? Why am I not refusing to show up and participate in this unnatural way of living? What happened to me? What happened to us?

There’s words and phrases for it— capitalism, patriarchy, internalized misogyny, colonialism, white supremacy… you name it— we are not only swimming in it, we are drowning. We have lost our way.

I look back upon all that we’ve said yes to, at least since I was born in the 1970’s. Food coloring, additives and processed non-food. Bottled water. Coffee shops and fast food on ever street. Gas. 9-5’s. I could go on…..

As a child I said yes to Oreos and Ho Ho’s. When I got a little older, and was continuously bullied, I said yes—yes, I’ll hide. Yes, I’m too much. Yes, there’s something wrong with me. Yes, you’re better and I’m insiginficant. Then I said yes to alcohol, Newports, boys and sex. Then I said yes to kids, marriage and a mortgage. Some of the yes’s should have been no’s— but it was too late. I’d been programmed, traumatized and neglected.

Now, I’m 50. I got through the pandemic (for now) and I’m witnessing what I have done. I am witnessing our culture and what it has us do. I sense all of it is enough to not only leave the circus but get off the circus grounds altogether— but how, and to where? Which cause will I protest, show up for? Which cultural, repressive institution will I leave?

All I think about lately is a cottage in the woods— fuck it all, eat mushrooms and berries and sit among the trees and the ferns, touching moss— live like the hobbit or the fairy tale old lady I know that I am.

I wonder who I could have been had I not said yes to it all. Who we might have been. What if I had said no, that’s not for me. Or no, we could have cried, this is not for us! This is who I am. This is who we are.

What I want to be a witness to now is a new cultural uprising for us, for me, for we. 🌲🌿🍄

Note: This is the first blog I have written in over a year. I sat down with a pen and paper, planning on writing something else, but instead listened and what I wrote above is what came through. I hope it reaches someone, in some way and I hope to return to this space more frequently.

In gratitude,

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

Tell me how you’ve changed. If you haven’t, tell me why.

I was immobilized by shock and fear when Trump won the election. That week, it took a lot to get moving again. When I did move I went on a bike ride to one of my favorite spots. I got off my bike and realized something fundamental had changed inside of me.

Usually on visits to my favorite spot I reflected upon concerns surrounding myself, my life and my relationships. But not anymore. A new, more menacing concern was with me- concern about my larger home— our country, our world, our planet and its people. This isn’t to say I had none of these concerns before, but now, the weight of them was heavier. It was almost too heavy and I wanted to go back to the days of only trying to manage my issues. Unfortunately, living in the west with my head just above the middle-class lifestyle, I had no idea this was a privilege.

Since those early days of November, I have since accommodated to this change. The shock has worn off and my fear has dimmed to a consistent concern for the broader context in which we live. Sometimes these concerns are in the back of my mind, and sometimes they are front and center. What I do in my life hasn’t changed all that much. I still get up, do my yoga and meditation. I do my homework, go to classes, spend time with family. I still get on my bike and go to my favorite spot. But now, when I drive up to order my half-caf iced coffee with almond milk or sit at a restaurant deciding if I want a salad or a burger, I realize the freedom I think I have to do these things can shift dramatically at any time. Think, The Handmaid’s Tale (for anyone who watched it or read the book). Watching it felt all too possible.

So, now that I have shared my experience I want to know yours. Tell me what you have noticed since Trump was elected.  Are there changes in your life? Your mind? Body? Emotions? Relationships?

When I look around it seems on the surface everyone is doing just fine, and I wonder is everyone asleep? Aren’t people concerned? Then, I think if they looked at me while I ordered my half-caf iced coffee they would think the same. So, where are you with all this- if you like Trump or not- how has it changed you? And if it hasn’t, tell me why.

Thanks,

The Soul Reporter

Fired up? Ready.

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Remember “Fired up? Ready to go!” It came from a city council woman that Barack Obama met during his community organizing days. He introduced us to her and her chant during his 2008 campaign. He asked, “Fired up?” And, the crowd answered, “Ready to go!” I answered ready to go. I thought I was ready to go. But something strange happened on inauguration night, 2009. I not only went to sleep with a smile on my face, feeling warm and safe inside, I also went back to sleep for the next 8 years, or at least until Clinton vs. Trump. What was the need to be fired up anymore? I got what I wanted. I got my President. I had twinges of guilt. I felt I turned my back on him, but it wasn’t enough to get me going. I went back to my comfortable life and he and his cabinet did the rest.

Well, as I sit here on what is a dark day for many, Inauguration 2017 I am fired up. I am ready to go. On November 9th, I was changed. Something fundamental inside of me shifted when Hillary lost. I woke up. As some say, these are the times we were made for. In 2008, I wasn’t ready and that’s why I didn’t show up. In 2017, I am ready and this will make all the difference.

But, don’t get me wrong, I am not selling myself an unrealistic story about what I, one person can do, because I don’t honestly know yet what I can do. I also realize my venture into the world of showing up is new and unfamiliar. You see, I have been loyal to a long, stubborn pattern, which allows me to stay hidden. It’s a protective mechanism, I suppose. My dad says its because I am afraid of life because I don’t trust it.

I came here, into this world, afraid of life. I know I did. I don’t know why. I’ve fought this fear consciously and unconsciously all of my life and maybe over many lifetimes. My dreams speak to this pattern. In my dreams I hide from a coach who wants me to play dodge ball. Ironically, I run out of the gym, dodging dodge ball. I hide from the classrooms in my old high school building. I hide from the men who try and chase me (this could be a good thing). Anyway, my mechanism is to hide, to not be seen and it’s strong in me.

But I cannot allow this type of protection anymore. I must break through this pattern of hiding and not trusting life. The last time I trusted life enough to sell most of my belongings and move to California I almost lost my life and worse, that of my children. It’s been a long road back from that time in our lives. I did not want to dream again. I did not want to come out again and give life a chance. I let life have me for a while and it almost killed me as a result. Life was too unpredictable for me to feel safe.

But in 2016, a year full of death and loss for my family and I know so many others, for me, it was also a year of life. I chose life again. I chose to be better because I want to. And part of being better means to face one of the largest giants in my life: a pattern of hide-and-go seek where what I hide from and what I seek is the same, me     and     life.

I am in a place now where I no longer want or need to hide and therefore I no longer need to seek me or seek life. I am here. Life is here.  They have always been here. Now, I show up.

As Trump and his family eat at their luncheon today and dance at their parties tonight, and tomorrow when he and his administration do what they think is best, I will pay attention, but I won’t be brought down by any of their decisions. Instead of trying to change what is by projecting my ideas and values onto people who seem to care less, I intend to be a part of, and focus on, and highlight what I believe is what matters most now: the good work on the ground by people who are conscious and care and the difficult and necessary inner work that allows us to be our better selves. Both are needed now more than ever.

While those who hold false power spin their webs of deceit and greed out of ignorance we will mobilize and unify. Perhaps some will turn away from their webs and realize there is no security and joy in that. But either way, we are busy doing our work, the work for all human beings, all living beings and this beautiful round globe we all live on.

To you~ Fire & Ease,

The Soul Reporter

You’re Likable Just Because You are You.

Source: fci.org via Joyce on Pinterest

If we in public television can only make it clear that feelings are mentionable and manageable—we will have done a  great service for mental health.

~ Mister Rogers

 

Since Governor Romney confidently stated he will cut PBS funding, in front of Jim Lehrer no less, an uproar has emerged. There are numerous Facebook postings and tweets—many of them from Big Bird saying, “Oh hell naw!”

On my news feed, my cousin posted a video of Mister (Fred) Rogers speaking to the United States Senate. It is of Rogers graciously sharing his commitment to children and his concern about what they see on television. His goal: to receive the 20 million dollars of funding for PBS that Richard Nixon wanted to deny.

Read the rest on elephant journal

Withdrawal

For those caught up in the political circus, fed up with mankind, and who have fantasized about leaving the world behind~  a poem/post from my father:

Withdrawal by Louis DiVirgilio

I’m leaving behind the rest of my kind, and removing myself from the race.
I’m washing clean society’s scene, and rinsing my mouth of bad taste;
Withdrawing from muzzled mouths, machine-gunning blanks words with each round;
From too polite salutations and too contrived departations;
From the printed accounts of gruesome, terrible crimes;
From the noise and the dirt and the slum and the grime,
I’m leaving this ocean of bullshit far, far behind.

As the earth spins in orbital glide, the sun shades its back and lights its front side.
Untolded lives end with the night, untolded lives begin with the light.
Life seems to float on a pool of extremes,
Flowing from best to worst or worst to best, with occasional levellings.

I’ll not be swayed. I am determined to leave, and once gone there will be no weeping on
my shirt sleeve.
Withdrawing from an economic mutation: freeze enterprise, castlepolism, and presschasing
power; from increase the exports, decrease the imports, tariff davenports, duty free
whiskey quarts; from inflate the dollar, deflate its value, tax all the income-who is the victim?
From grow with the country-consume a T.V.; use a lawyer regularly to gain a 3% rate in G.N.P.
From inflation, taxation, and money orientation, I am taking leave of it all, and I’ll burn my credit cards as a symbol of withdrawal.

As the earth spins in orbital glide, the sun shades its back and lights its front side.
Untolded lives end with the night, untolded lives begin with the light.
Life or death, dispositions of mind, where place the emphasis?
The decision is mine.

I’ll not bend. My mind is made up. I’m withdrawing from a political circus that features
corrupt; from the codes and statutes obstructing my time; from the courts and their
justice, mentally blind; from the in-forms, the out-forms, the forms for forming forms, and the formed forms from forms. Take all the forms, roll into a wad then blast it into orbit and form a new moon.
I’m leaving. I tell you, and it isn’t too soon.

As the earth spins in orbital glide, the sun shades its back and lights its front side.
Untolded lives end with the night, untolded lives begin with the light.
There are flowers that open full bloom to the sun, and close tight to the moon;
Accommodating the change of day in a most thoughtful way.

I’m leaving! and when I’m “safe in my sylvan home, I’ll tread on the pride of Greece and Rome.
Safe I’ll be, without ambiguity. Safe I’ll be separate from society. Safe I’ll be withdrawn from
that which annoys me.

Egad! I am a fool. To escape is mad. I am only accepting the good part of the world while
withdrawing from the bad.

I’ll use flower wisdom: accept life’s extremes, then accommodate the differences as my
awareness deems.

I am going to stay; mingle with my kind; accept all behavior as human and where I can,
adjust and refine.

To read the rest of the post, go here, to the Seeking Truth Blog. 

What’s Going On…?

I’m concerned. I’ve “met” a few people online. These people are kindred souls, or so it seems. We “like” each other’s updates. We may chat on line or email exchange. And then we might share a link or post an update or add a comment that shares our political or religious views/opinions- and then as they say, ‘the shit hits the fan.’

Example: I watched Fahrenheit 9-11 last week. I posted a comment about my experience of watching it again 10 years later, and a “friend” shared a link of a documentary that delved into another theory of 9-11, suggesting the government was behind 9-11 and there were bombs planted inside the towers. I had seen this before, and watched again with interest. After watching, I asked this “friend” why? Why would “they” want to do this? She posted another link about President Obama. I didn’ t finish the video, but what I gathered is he, like most presidents are puppets to coroporations, and specifically the Federal Reserve, which I have heard is privately owned.

During John Kerry’s democratic convention, a nice looking young man, named Barack Obama came onto the stage and lit my fire. He inspired forward a message of unity sitting stagnant inside of me and I said to myself, who is this guy? I like Barack. I always have. I believe he is a good man. I told my “friend” this, and also said that these political conversations don’t go anywhere because someone is usually trying to convince the other they are right.

She told me a good man wouldn’t have attended the church he did or married a woman who wrote some black supremacist diatribe against the “very culture who established the educational system she attended.” She went on to say I was blinded by my desire to have faith.  I told her that conspiracy theories, true or not are a distraction unless we are willing to revolt and take back our country. I told her I stand by my feeling about Barack and would admit I was wrong if he actually was the monster many portray him to be. I realized after I spent time bashing Bush, that I have no idea what it is like to be president, and therefore to judge the way the position is held is ignorant.

And this is where it got weird, and ugly. She brought up my decision to homeschool (in an eery throw it in my face sort of way) because of the faulty LA schools, she mentioned my husband, who is black. She told me all I do is contemplate my navel and asked, “What do you do for the world besides talk about yourself?” She then said she wouldn’t disclose any of the secrets (I guess) I told her because she is honest that way, and for now our paths will no longer cross. And then ended with the ever lovely, “Bless.” I was deleted from her Facebook friends and Twitter. Poof. Gone. See ya.

Here is why I am concerned. I have met others like this woman online and face-to-face in the past year or so. These people seem to spend a lot of time in isolation, in front of their computers. Here they explore these conspiracies and over time believe they are true. Also, the virtual friends they make allows them to fantasize about relationships that aren’t really real, except of course in their own mind. My projection of this woman in particular is she believed we were kindred spirits- that she had a friend in me, but as soon as I shared my own thoughts, which didn’t mesh with her own, she seemed to feel oddly betrayed and was done. And not only done, but threatened enough to attack in what she believed were vulnerable places for me.

You might say, who cares. But, while they might fear the government, I fear for them. The government and all the corruption that goes along with it, is an entity I choose not to focus on for the same reasons I am passionate about spirituality, but choose not to get involved with channeling and past lives and ghosts- it’s a distraction, and a can be a dangerous one.

Voltaire said, we must cultivate our own garden, so in a sense saying all I do is contemplate my navel and talk about myself is all I am supposed to do. It is really all I can do. It is all I know and want to know better. There isn’t enough looking within. There is too much looking out. This does not make one who does this naieve or selfish or unaware of the needs of others.  It makes one establish a solid foundation and from here discern what is empowering and useful and what isn’t, and the brighter, more abundant our gardens, the more there is to share. Back to our government-  I do not doubt there is terrible, ugly curroption within it. I am sure Barack is learning this first hand. But- right now I have no desire to start a revolt. I am still cultivating- and often sharing.

See, there is this law called karma and it happens with or without our saving or fearing the world. The darkness, secrets, lies are all being uncovered right now. It is why the world seems so dark at the moment. Karma is happening. I don’t have to read about conspiracies or get people on my side because what is happening inside the white house walls and corporate board rooms will take care of itself. As they ignorantly believe they are manipulating us, if that is what they are doing, they are merely only twisting tighter their own already tangled webs. Yes, some of us will and do get caught up in it and there are many who call out how unfair it is- but nothing is unfair. It’s karma. It’s what is, and we can look within and learn from what is happening or we can keep pointing the finger and believe our conspiracies and learn nothing, and abandon those who don’t get along with what we believe as Truth, therefore continuing to spread isolation, separateness, fear and ignorance- and from where I sit, the results are in.

In the past year, I have yet to get into a healthy debate or conversation with anyone. Instead I get deleted or ignored or attacked or leave myself, for the projections have gone too far.  I see posts and links and hear people being critical of the president. There is bitching because there was too much hype over Hurricane Irene. Suffering because there was not enough with Katrina. Truth, unity and freedom is discouraged and feared, even though we pride ourselves on encouraging them.

What’s going on….?

This cynicism, paranoia and intolerance is spreading like wildfire. I am reminded of my new dog, Olive. She is still a puppy- an Italian Mastiff. She is an anxious dog. Probably isolated before she came to us. Wasn’t around many other dogs or people. When we take her on walks, or when someone comes to the door, her hackles go up. Our trainer says this is not something we want because when she is anxious and her hackles are up she is more prone to be aggressive.

A Remedy…

There are a lot of people, it would seem whose hackles are up. Looking to be deceived. Abandoned. Betrayed. Look, and you will always find. I believe my “friend” thought I was naive. “Blinded” she said because of my need to have faith in a person (speaking of Barack). She asked, “What makes him good?” He has good in him as we all do. He has darkness too. We all do. There is a point of maturity, which happens if we cultivate our own garden, where we see the darkness in others, but we don’t fear it or condemn it or try and control it- we just notice it. We also Know in them is Perfection, something my dad has been saying to me lately. To not buy into “conspiracies” or “truths” does not mean we are stupid or naive. It means we don’t need to hang onto anything to feel right or secure or affirmed. It means we don’t take any of this so serisously we stamp people out for not agreeing with us. It means we keep our eye on the larger movement happening- that everything is bringing us deeper into our Perfection. As serious as it all is, it’s not that serious.

On the surface we see, feel and often become deeply entrenched in the chaos, but beneath the chaos is absolute perfect, divine order. Keeping at least one eye here, we do not need to argue or disagree or agree or resist or delete or do anything…at all. And in my case, I need not be concerned.

Namaste,

The Soul Reporter