It is so far below beneath the noise it is hard to hear.

A scent wafting into consciousness that wasn’t discerned because of the clatter. The nuances in the hues of daybreak or the colors at sunset. Are you too preoccupied with the clamor in your head to notice? Can you free yourself from the grips of your past, at least for a moment, and take a breath in the present?

Nature’s free gifts fill a hungry soul. But life’s challenges can interfere with absorbing her wonders; the rustle of a leaf falling, the bird chirping near-by, the locusts still humming in the distance, a tree frog who nestled next to my coffee cup on the deck…

Find ways to come out of the din to the light of the present. Do it over and over and again. The whispering’s of the soul will be heard…


Even though one lives in a country where an individual has freedom they may not be free. There are expanding moments where a feeling of freedom arises yet often it alludes me. Brought up in isolation where horrific trauma was personally experienced yet silenced caused a stunting of growth into what could have been. That cage doesn’t magically find a key and release its prisoner. She lives with a view of herself that was cemented during the personality forming process.

The work to confront the psychological aspects of childhood sexual abuse is an ongoing process that takes a life. Determined not to have it taken continues to present challenges, some so insidious it is intricately difficult to discern so patterns are repeated and the pain is profound. If one cannot put words on it, put it out there, have it listened to and understood, then the aloneness continues and goes deep causing breaks in the soul that cannot come together in peacefulness. 

The eldest son felt bad over his crimes. Instead of confessing his sexual abuse towards his little sister he tore her down but in little ways that no one noticed but her. She had a fight in her and battled him endlessly in quiet ways. But the innuendos became part of her make- up solidifying how she thought about herself.

She becomes other people’s stories about her and that follows her throughout life. She has no freedom to be who she is because she never was. Even if she knows the stories are not true she lives them without speaking up, or without shouting and screaming as others do. She has not been allowed to have her own stories. How does she have her own stories at 10, or 20, 40 or even sixty when so much of her had been subdued and locked away?

No one listened then and no one does now…except one. It only takes one person to know, understand and care. That is enough to free her. And she needs this time and again. Just one to know and care.

The Studio Beckons…

As the days shorten and the wind blows the studio beckons. After months away it feels good to be back with new ideas. This base is a ceramic flower pot found at a garage sale for three bucks. Samuel made a wooden top from treated lumber. Cory, my son in Boston, enlarged a simple design that I traced on top. It makes a very nice table for a cup of coffee on the little deck… 


Fall is affecting me as it usually does though the hope sprung that this time it wouldn’t. The sun with its warmth has soothed my soul while sitting mornings on the patio, sometimes for long luxurious periods before rising to do other morning tasks. It will hard to give that up along with walks in the meadow where the stillness and warm sun brought centeredness and peace.


Fall comes and with it I fall.


The solution is to be in the body. Be there with the negative thoughts which come fast and hard. Confront them. It takes work and more work than usual. Be aware of the body and be in it. You cannot escape yourself.  

The Cruelest Abuse

Families are more interested in their reputation than the child sexually attacked. Be quiet and love your attacker.

To expect a child to swallow all that terrifying trauma and go on instead of intervening and assisting the child to process it causes life-long injury. At 64, my highly reactive startle reflex has not improved along with many other things. Some challenges increase as years pass. One does not ‘get over it,’ heal, or move on because no one came to help. All that trauma went inside causing more damage. The bleeding never stops.

Sexual attacks to a child are as horrific as being hit by a locomotive. In that case all come to help. She is allowed to talk about it as long as she needs to with incoming sympathy, compassion and condolences. Processing trauma helps heal the brain and all other systems. Without that processing the brain is injured and she is affected on all levels, spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

But a child is hushed up because of the fear of how their reputations will be affected. The pretense of caring is put forth but no real care is given. People hurdle together to protect themselves.

Will one person stand up, bear witness, possess character and say this is wrong, and put a protective arm around her shoulder? The attacker needs to repent and beg forgiveness with true sorrow. That is what the family needs to focus on, not hushing her up.

Going along with the pretense of family in order to have one kept me from myself where home has been found, and truth resides with authenticity.