Never thought the day would come when I would not look forward to reading the New York Times Op Ed pages. Typically I read two newspapers a day: The Miami Herald because I live here and the New York Times because I grew up there and still go there quite a bit and think it's a pretty good paper.
I've looked askance at others who say they don't read newspapers because they can't take knowing about all the bad news. My father was a journalist and my childhood home was awash with every kind of New York newspaper.
And, yes, I know we are living in hard times. Unemployment, wars, terrorism fears. It seems as if every writer can only lament and give dire predictions. Somehow, I think that makes everything worse. Doom and gloom with my breakfast cereal doesn't inspire me to meet the day's challenges. And we need to feel some inspiration so that we can cope with the current world. What if I told my depressed clients that the world is a hopeless place?
Yes, we need to know what is happening. But, I don't need to read day after day about how demoralized Bob Herbert is. His columns used to give me a lift, help me feel that there was something worth salvaging. It's not that I disagree with what he is saying. We have squandered opportunities to improve on the current situation. We do need a much more comprehensive program than the piecemeal bits we've been getting. I'm not sure what the answer is because I do know that the purpose of journalislm is, as Heywood Broun once said, "to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable."
I only know that constant focus on what is not working promotes depression and hopelessness. When I work with my clients, I look for their inner resources and strengths. I help them see how their survival skills have gotten them through hard times and help build their confidence by increasing their self-esteem. I'd like to have a jolt of optimism in the mornings. And, coffee won't do the trick.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Monday, January 4, 2010
Loving What I Do
I am so glad that I chose the career that I did. I go to work eagerly every day and have no intention of retiring. Somehow, in my senior year in high school, I decided that I wanted to be a psychologist. That took my teachers by some surprise, as I had not been very academically motivated. For years I'd been told that I was not working up to my potential. And, then, boom! I knew what I wanted to do and set upon pursuing my goal. To think that my private school refused to recommend me to some of the colleges I wanted to attend! I was told that all I was going to do anyway was "to get married and have children!" This was in the mid sixties. When I finally did obtain my Ph.D., I fantasized about sending that woman a copy of my degree.
Anyway, over forty years later, I am so glad that I followed my own convictions. I feel so privileged to be able to work with my clients. And, as the years have unfolded, I've learned so much from them as they grant me access to their very private journeys. I've learned so many different techniques and approaches. I have such respect for the whole person and for the way that our minds and bodies communicate. I've delighted in helping people reach their potential through helping them integrate their inner and outer experiences.
And to my high school doubting Tomasina, I would add that I am happily married and have wonderful children and grandchildren.
Anyway, over forty years later, I am so glad that I followed my own convictions. I feel so privileged to be able to work with my clients. And, as the years have unfolded, I've learned so much from them as they grant me access to their very private journeys. I've learned so many different techniques and approaches. I have such respect for the whole person and for the way that our minds and bodies communicate. I've delighted in helping people reach their potential through helping them integrate their inner and outer experiences.
And to my high school doubting Tomasina, I would add that I am happily married and have wonderful children and grandchildren.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Grief Revisited
Each year brings more insights and growth. Just when you think you really understand something, you encounter new perspectives. For example, I have considered myself someone who understands the grief process. I've worked for many years helping others work through their losses. I've had some significant losses myself (brother's death at an early age, father's death, sister-in-law's premature death, and some very dear friends)and I've managed to work these through.
I was very close to my father and his death when I was just 36 was devastating. It took me three years to begin to integrate that loss. I was lucky to have had a wonderfully close and meaningful relationship with my father. I was not as close to my mother and really didn't get to know her until after my father's death. I sometimes think that if he had not died, I might never have gotten to know my mother the way I did in the years since his death. And, then, it took lots of time and required both she and I to open to each other in a new way.
So, at some level, I always imagined that when my mother died, I would be better able to cope. After all, she lived to 92! And yet, her sudden death last summer has deeply affected me. I think about her all the time and just cannot believe that she is no longer on the planet. Now, I do feel her presence and I do believe that she is with me, but that just isn't enough. As I told a friend this evening, I think about her more since she died than I did when she was living. The loss is painfully acute. Maybe this is because I was not close to her for more than half my life.
We lived in separate cities, she in New York and I in Miami. We only saw each other about six times a year, but we spoke at least once a week, we emailed, and we had just reached the point of comfort to profess our feelings about each other. I have no problem expressing love to most of my dear ones, but with her, because she was not one of those who ended phone conversations with an I love you, it was difficult for me to tell her how much she meant to me. She did tell me in an email last year that she loved me very much. That meant the world to me.
I wasn't one bit ready to have her die. Isn't that so often the truth? I have always said that the deaths of those with whom we've had complicated relationships are the hardest. And now, the truth of that is so poignantly with me.
I was very close to my father and his death when I was just 36 was devastating. It took me three years to begin to integrate that loss. I was lucky to have had a wonderfully close and meaningful relationship with my father. I was not as close to my mother and really didn't get to know her until after my father's death. I sometimes think that if he had not died, I might never have gotten to know my mother the way I did in the years since his death. And, then, it took lots of time and required both she and I to open to each other in a new way.
So, at some level, I always imagined that when my mother died, I would be better able to cope. After all, she lived to 92! And yet, her sudden death last summer has deeply affected me. I think about her all the time and just cannot believe that she is no longer on the planet. Now, I do feel her presence and I do believe that she is with me, but that just isn't enough. As I told a friend this evening, I think about her more since she died than I did when she was living. The loss is painfully acute. Maybe this is because I was not close to her for more than half my life.
We lived in separate cities, she in New York and I in Miami. We only saw each other about six times a year, but we spoke at least once a week, we emailed, and we had just reached the point of comfort to profess our feelings about each other. I have no problem expressing love to most of my dear ones, but with her, because she was not one of those who ended phone conversations with an I love you, it was difficult for me to tell her how much she meant to me. She did tell me in an email last year that she loved me very much. That meant the world to me.
I wasn't one bit ready to have her die. Isn't that so often the truth? I have always said that the deaths of those with whom we've had complicated relationships are the hardest. And now, the truth of that is so poignantly with me.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Wordplay
I have become quite an afficianado of certain video games. I've always loved word games and now I play Strike A Match on Boxerjam.com and word whomp and scrabble on Pogo.com. I've been told by my son that if I played fewer games, I might write more on my novel and that is probably true. However, I really enjoy these games and am quite good at them. The Strike a Match game consists of four rounds in which you have to find relationships between two, then three and then four sets of words. It can be pretty cutthroat as you compete with others all over the country and the world. I have discovered that to make the "high score" list for the day, for example, you have to outrank everyone else who has played that game AND the only time that counts for the list is when it is your first game of the day. I have made a couple of "friends" on that game, but there are others who I simply won't play with either because they always win or because they take TOO long to answer or because they are nasty.
It isn't so surprising that I would fare well at word games, as I have always loved words and have been doing the New York Times crossword puzzles for over forty years. However, I have discovered that I love to play Pogo Bowl which consists of a virtual bowling alley. What I love most about that game is that the players are so friendly and encouraging. When someone gets a turkey (three consecutive strikes), other players will say "nt" which means nice turkey. If someone fails to get either a spare or a strike, others will say, "ss" meaning so sorry. I was never very athletic although I did like real bowling when I was younger. I wasn't athletic partly because I have a lazy eye which affects my depth perception and partly because others teased me unmercifully in elementary school. So, it is just delightful to be with the Pogo bowlers who go out of their way to encourage each other. There is such a grand camaraderie and I look forward to meeting with this group.
Hopefully, the neglected novel will once again inspire me. For now, I'll keep on playing!
It isn't so surprising that I would fare well at word games, as I have always loved words and have been doing the New York Times crossword puzzles for over forty years. However, I have discovered that I love to play Pogo Bowl which consists of a virtual bowling alley. What I love most about that game is that the players are so friendly and encouraging. When someone gets a turkey (three consecutive strikes), other players will say "nt" which means nice turkey. If someone fails to get either a spare or a strike, others will say, "ss" meaning so sorry. I was never very athletic although I did like real bowling when I was younger. I wasn't athletic partly because I have a lazy eye which affects my depth perception and partly because others teased me unmercifully in elementary school. So, it is just delightful to be with the Pogo bowlers who go out of their way to encourage each other. There is such a grand camaraderie and I look forward to meeting with this group.
Hopefully, the neglected novel will once again inspire me. For now, I'll keep on playing!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Continuity of Friendship
I cherish my friendships and see them as precious gems that warm my heart and fill me with hope and sweetness. I'm actually known for my interest in long lost friends who suddenly re-enter my life. Just a few weeks ago I became reacquainted with a man who'd been one of my confidants during my teens. His memories of the teenage me took my breath away. He said that he could see the sixteen year old me in my website picture. When friends of my youth reappear, it's almost as if they'd never left. We have an instant rapport as the years fall away and there is a recognition and a knowing of each other. There's the woman I speak with about once or twice a year and we marvel at how our voices still sound exactly the same and we recapture the essence of our friendship within minutes. She touches something deep within my heart...she gets me in a unique way.
Then, there are those friends who've been present for over forty years and we have shared all those major life events of marriage and babies and growing children and finally grandchildren. We've been there for each other through career changes and challenges. A friend I made in graduate school has been my Monday lunch partner for over a quarter of a century. We never run out of things to talk about. We process everything that happens and we never miss a lunch unless one of us is either on vacation or, as happens too frequently as we age, at a funeral.
I told a client just today that I believe that our friendships and relationships are probably the most meaningful parts of our lives and that it is usually worth it to work through difficulties rather than simply abandon a friendship. Having the courage to gently confront a friend and express what I'm feeling allows the relationship to deepen and grow and we are both better for the effort.
We lead busy lives. We are on our computers, blackberries, iphones. Face to face interactions seem to be dwindling. However we can reach out to each other is essential. Texting ignores the nuances of communication. It has its place, but it will never replace the value of authentic contact.
Then, there are those friends who've been present for over forty years and we have shared all those major life events of marriage and babies and growing children and finally grandchildren. We've been there for each other through career changes and challenges. A friend I made in graduate school has been my Monday lunch partner for over a quarter of a century. We never run out of things to talk about. We process everything that happens and we never miss a lunch unless one of us is either on vacation or, as happens too frequently as we age, at a funeral.
I told a client just today that I believe that our friendships and relationships are probably the most meaningful parts of our lives and that it is usually worth it to work through difficulties rather than simply abandon a friendship. Having the courage to gently confront a friend and express what I'm feeling allows the relationship to deepen and grow and we are both better for the effort.
We lead busy lives. We are on our computers, blackberries, iphones. Face to face interactions seem to be dwindling. However we can reach out to each other is essential. Texting ignores the nuances of communication. It has its place, but it will never replace the value of authentic contact.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Memoirs
The other day I happened upon my grandfather's memoirs. These were never published, but were among the papers I found after my mother's death. My grandfather, Osmond Fraenkel, was born in 1888 and died in 1983, just a few months shy of his 95th birthday. He lived a long and illustrious life as an attorney in New York City who was active in the American Civil Liberties Union and tried 18 cases before the United States Supreme Court.
Yet, it was the minutiae of his life that fascinated me. When I knew him, he was a very self-assured, accomplished man. I was surprised and moved to discover that he'd struggled as a child with a weak constitution, that he'd been the butt of teasing by his classmates, that he'd been unathletic and had facial tics. If I had known of any of these things when he was alive, I'd have felt closer to him and I would have seen him as less imposing.
He described New York before there were automobiles and then the advent of their arrival on the scene. My grandfather wrote about the first paving of the streets! He spoke of the development of the first subways.
Remember how we all labored over the quandry of when the 21st century actually began? Was it the year 2000 or 2001? Well, he described the very same thing about the beginning of the 20th Century. 1900 or 1901? And, I was struck by that old adage about the more things change, the more they stay the same. How wonderful to glimpse the turn of the past century and to have experienced the turn of this one. Each detail of his life from the most personal to the historic entranced me. It helped me understand myself a little bit more. How very lucky I am to have this treasure.
Yet, it was the minutiae of his life that fascinated me. When I knew him, he was a very self-assured, accomplished man. I was surprised and moved to discover that he'd struggled as a child with a weak constitution, that he'd been the butt of teasing by his classmates, that he'd been unathletic and had facial tics. If I had known of any of these things when he was alive, I'd have felt closer to him and I would have seen him as less imposing.
He described New York before there were automobiles and then the advent of their arrival on the scene. My grandfather wrote about the first paving of the streets! He spoke of the development of the first subways.
Remember how we all labored over the quandry of when the 21st century actually began? Was it the year 2000 or 2001? Well, he described the very same thing about the beginning of the 20th Century. 1900 or 1901? And, I was struck by that old adage about the more things change, the more they stay the same. How wonderful to glimpse the turn of the past century and to have experienced the turn of this one. Each detail of his life from the most personal to the historic entranced me. It helped me understand myself a little bit more. How very lucky I am to have this treasure.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Lightening Up with White Light
For many years, I have been extolling the virtues of white light. I've written about it in my novel, Sherry and the Unseen World (iuniverse, 2005) and elsewhere. I have taught countless people to access white light. I even used to drive around with a bumper sticker I had designed which said "surround the world in white light".
Some people see white light as universal healing energy and others as the light of spirit. It has been used by healers for centuries. You can access white light by simply imagining sparkly light around a person or a situation or even yourself. White light is like what happened when Cinderella's fairy godmother touched the pumpkin with her magic wand. When you white light something, you are calling on positive energy.
Think of all the times you worry about things. When you worry, you are actually focusing on the negative energy of problems. And, you are tensing up. You are stressing yourself. When you white light something, you are infusing positive energy. You are bringing your attention and your intention toward a positive outcome.
Just this morning, I was worrying about someone when it dawned on me that I should apply my own advice and white light the person. Not two hours later, I received a call saying that the situation had been resolved in exactly the way I had hoped. Only, for the past several weeks, I had been worrying...sending out worry energy. Interestingly, the person first asked me if I had white lit him and I delightedly told him of my epiphany. Is this a coincidence? Some would say so. Only it happens so frequently that I cannot ascribe it to random occurrence.
I urge others to use white light. Anyone can do it. We are all very powerful. Go wait on line somewhere and notice how stressed people look. Then, pick out the one who looks particularly grouchy. Mentally ask the universe to surround the person in white light. You won't be speaking out loud; you just imagine the white light all around the person. Usually, within about 30 seconds, you will notice a change in the person's demeanor. Their facial features will have relaxed. Try it. Play with white light. And feel yourself lightening up.
Some people see white light as universal healing energy and others as the light of spirit. It has been used by healers for centuries. You can access white light by simply imagining sparkly light around a person or a situation or even yourself. White light is like what happened when Cinderella's fairy godmother touched the pumpkin with her magic wand. When you white light something, you are calling on positive energy.
Think of all the times you worry about things. When you worry, you are actually focusing on the negative energy of problems. And, you are tensing up. You are stressing yourself. When you white light something, you are infusing positive energy. You are bringing your attention and your intention toward a positive outcome.
Just this morning, I was worrying about someone when it dawned on me that I should apply my own advice and white light the person. Not two hours later, I received a call saying that the situation had been resolved in exactly the way I had hoped. Only, for the past several weeks, I had been worrying...sending out worry energy. Interestingly, the person first asked me if I had white lit him and I delightedly told him of my epiphany. Is this a coincidence? Some would say so. Only it happens so frequently that I cannot ascribe it to random occurrence.
I urge others to use white light. Anyone can do it. We are all very powerful. Go wait on line somewhere and notice how stressed people look. Then, pick out the one who looks particularly grouchy. Mentally ask the universe to surround the person in white light. You won't be speaking out loud; you just imagine the white light all around the person. Usually, within about 30 seconds, you will notice a change in the person's demeanor. Their facial features will have relaxed. Try it. Play with white light. And feel yourself lightening up.
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