Eight years ago we were witnesses to history. We were there in heart, in mind, and some of us, in physical being. We call September 11, 2001 one of our nation’s darkest days. A day of Terror. A day when our world as we knew it changed forever. We shared grief for those lost, and relief for those found.
Today as I mark my personal anniversary, I’d like to offer a different perspective that begins in a deeper past, during the time of Plato. Archetypes have been around since the dawn of man, defining the roles we play in our lives. Plato called them Forms, a kind of abstract concept that can be applied to actual things. Carl Jung took this further, stating that archetypes were psychological patterns derived from historical roles in life, as well as universal events or situations.
During and after 9-11, archetypes played a major part in the life-changing situations in which we found ourselves. We were the Hero, The Victim, God & Martyr. We were Rescuer, Warrior, and Avenger. Eventually we added Scribe & Advocate, Storyteller & Healer. Liberator. And we found ourselves sharing the darker shadow side, too.
Throughout history we have been both Destroyer and Destroyed. In America, we repeatedly have enacted the role of the destroyer in the wars, conflicts, and battles we’ve engaged in.
When someone threatened us, threatened our suppliers and (useful) allies, and our ‘way of life’ we were there, guns drawn, wearing the Bully and Victim on our sleeve, avenging any hostile act. We claim that war is unavoidable; but how thoughtfully do we consider the depth and force of our response? Can we name the times we applied the right degree of force? Do we know it was equal to the need?
This year, as the bell chimes at Ground Zero and prayers are read at the Pentagon, consider that we as a nation have colluded with an age-old system that no longer benefits us. A system I feel no longer defines us. Consider that we colluded with that system unconsciously. That we allowed it to happen and we did it together. We have done it many times before; imagine the rapturous gleam in the eyes of southerners when the Confederate flag was trotted out during the Civil War.
We have been the Destroyer. We have been the Destroyed. And perhaps it is time for those outgrown, unconscious roles to see the light of day. To shine a light on them brighter than New York’s Tribute in Light. To begin to know them for what they are.
What if we, as individuals, as a nation, and as a global consciousness were to say, I have been both the destroyer and the destroyed, and I no longer stand for either?
What if we said this aloud today, to self and friend, to loved person and colleague? Would we begin to heal the devastation in our hearts?
Let’s dry our tears, raise our heads, and put the experience into a higher perspective. Let’s begin to derive something meaningful from the events of September 11th, rather than cyclically renewing our anger, fear, and rage. Let’s challenge September 11th to give us something more than the ability to harbor a vengeful heart, nearly a decade later.
Today I’ll fly my American flag proudly. But this year, I’ll know in my heart that there is a deeper meaning, a more enlightened perspective somewhere within the stars and the stripes, waiting to be known. A message, a call to something higher.
And I’ll proudly say, “Today, I stand for something more.”
Friday
Tuesday
Saturday
21 days later
I could not have anticipated how difficult the first week without Licorice would feel. We spent the weekend grieving for her and supporting each other, and then Monday arrived. The family went back to work and school and here I was, at home, alone, without my sweetheart. If I never experience a Monday like that again, I will be eternally grateful. After years of being with her daily, taking care of her needs, and shooing her out of my office when I was working, suddenly not having her with me left me feeling brutalized.
In the last six months or so she had begun to feel unwell, and so after her cancer diagnosis I spent a good deal of my time watching her, making sure she wasn't ailing, or in pain. All that worry took a toll that the rest of the family didn't experience. I felt alone in my pain in some ways that first week. Lost. Her things were still around; an empty kibble dish and a bag of snack treats. Her toys strewn all over the house, her favorite chew bone still under the ottoman. Scratch marks in the carpet in my bedroom. (like a cat she always 'made dough' with her nails before lying down).
I was angry with her after she died, angry that she had been such a darned pest toward the end, in need of constant attention. She followed me everywhere, literally. If she could heave herself up from lying in a sunspot, she'd be right behind me. I can't tell you the number of times she was right on my heels, tripping me up. Head in my lap whenever I sat down, heedless of client calls. Fourteen trips outside during the day, begging at the door in good weather for another chance to lie in her favorite grassy spot. I'd be forced to make her come back inside after ten or so minutes because with her lung tumors, too much sun was unhealthy and she'd begin wheezing. She was very stubborn. I'd have to get angry with her in order to get her moving, and I hated yelling at her. But it was that, or risk one of her attacks. We still don't know exactly what they comprised.
Licorice took something truly marvelous with her, a quality of self, a personality, something that we all miss a great deal. We loved her so dammed much and when she died, that something left. I dreamed of her the night she died. She simply appeared, in her "Good Dog!" sitting position, and appeared to be waiting. It was then I knew she was waiting for us to let her go.
She has since moved on, but we who love her struggle to do so. The reminders aren't so tough anymore; we don't pause to listen to neighbor dogs barking any longer. A labrador retriever on the street will still garner attention, but that Lab isn't our Lab, and so feels like just another dog. Not terribly special, you see.
My son of course is begging for a turtle/snake/rabbit/guinea pig/hamster/puppy/kitty/gecko/bird(what's with THAT?)/or $40 koi he can keep in a kiddie pool in the backyard. I simply don't know that I'll ever be desirous of another pet. Licorice truly had our hearts, and has them still.
In the last six months or so she had begun to feel unwell, and so after her cancer diagnosis I spent a good deal of my time watching her, making sure she wasn't ailing, or in pain. All that worry took a toll that the rest of the family didn't experience. I felt alone in my pain in some ways that first week. Lost. Her things were still around; an empty kibble dish and a bag of snack treats. Her toys strewn all over the house, her favorite chew bone still under the ottoman. Scratch marks in the carpet in my bedroom. (like a cat she always 'made dough' with her nails before lying down).
I was angry with her after she died, angry that she had been such a darned pest toward the end, in need of constant attention. She followed me everywhere, literally. If she could heave herself up from lying in a sunspot, she'd be right behind me. I can't tell you the number of times she was right on my heels, tripping me up. Head in my lap whenever I sat down, heedless of client calls. Fourteen trips outside during the day, begging at the door in good weather for another chance to lie in her favorite grassy spot. I'd be forced to make her come back inside after ten or so minutes because with her lung tumors, too much sun was unhealthy and she'd begin wheezing. She was very stubborn. I'd have to get angry with her in order to get her moving, and I hated yelling at her. But it was that, or risk one of her attacks. We still don't know exactly what they comprised.
Licorice took something truly marvelous with her, a quality of self, a personality, something that we all miss a great deal. We loved her so dammed much and when she died, that something left. I dreamed of her the night she died. She simply appeared, in her "Good Dog!" sitting position, and appeared to be waiting. It was then I knew she was waiting for us to let her go.
She has since moved on, but we who love her struggle to do so. The reminders aren't so tough anymore; we don't pause to listen to neighbor dogs barking any longer. A labrador retriever on the street will still garner attention, but that Lab isn't our Lab, and so feels like just another dog. Not terribly special, you see.
My son of course is begging for a turtle/snake/rabbit/guinea pig/hamster/puppy/kitty/gecko/bird(what's with THAT?)/or $40 koi he can keep in a kiddie pool in the backyard. I simply don't know that I'll ever be desirous of another pet. Licorice truly had our hearts, and has them still.
Sunday
Happy Mother's Day
Miracles Are Mirrors of Your Love
Miracles are mirrors of your love
Open as spring windows to the breeze.
The child will in time a sailor prove,
Holding course as wind and will might please.
Eventually what is left is beauty,
Resonant with what was never sung
'Twixt the wonder and the sense of duty,
Salient as a word on silence hung.
Dear as life is, there is something dearer,
A truth that near dissolves as we draw nearer,
Yet is what is once tales of time are wrung.
~Grzegorz Gerwazy Gorczycki
Miracles are mirrors of your love
Open as spring windows to the breeze.
The child will in time a sailor prove,
Holding course as wind and will might please.
Eventually what is left is beauty,
Resonant with what was never sung
'Twixt the wonder and the sense of duty,
Salient as a word on silence hung.
Dear as life is, there is something dearer,
A truth that near dissolves as we draw nearer,
Yet is what is once tales of time are wrung.
~Grzegorz Gerwazy Gorczycki
Saturday
Thursday
inflamed...again
Okay so here's the dilly-o. Schloppy "news" article on Yahoo relationships page. Yeah, I know; shouldn't have been there in the first place. The article discusses in some detail the #1 reason men don't call a woman after a first date.
Ready for this? She is described as, "The Boss Lady" - he'd rather hire her than date her.
Well, there seems to be a gender gap of perspective between the guys and the gals in this, so let's explore.
Guys' perception: she is argumentative, competitive, controlling, not feminine, too independent, not nurturing, or some combination of the above.
Gals' perception: I am persuasive, capable, street-smart, organized, modern, confident, or forthright.
There are no tips for the men. But the following helpful hints and handy tips, of course, are directed toward the WOMEN. Ready again?
Soften your delivery. Some of the negative perceptions a man has about The Boss Lady are reactions to how she speaks and acts, not about her inherent personality. Toning down your conversation style ( I will not!) from combative or challenging to gracious, and even a little flirtatious, goes a long way. (I have to FLIRT with him, too?) And if you find yourself on opposite sides of an issue, try sprinkling qualifying words into your dialogue such as "I think" or "I wonder" or "maybe," which allow for disagreement but aren't adversarial.
Look like a woman. At work, conservative and structured clothing allows you to be taken seriously, but it's not exactly sensual by candlelight. Don't go straight from work in your power suit to meet him for dinner; rather, change into something soft and flirty. And try growing your hair longer: men told me that shoulder-length hair (or longer) is more feminine. Sure, you're a strong and capable woman, but think Scarlett O'Hara not Hillary Clinton. (falling over laughing - now whar did ah leave ma bonnet?)
Select what you need, not want. Like the Rolling Stones say, "You can't always get what you want, but you just might find, you get what you need." So think hard about the men you're selecting (no doubt I will). For The Boss Lady, a nurturing, giving type of guy can be optimal (been there, done that) (maybe he's a teacher or chef instead of Wall Street broker?). That's the opposite image of what most successful career women seek, but your best match might be a man who balances you emotionally: someone who is laid-back, sweet, surrendering, and patient. He might be just what you need.
Gulp. I've done it all wrong. I've been my authentic self, and this is totally wrong if I want to "catch" a man, Scarlett O'Hara style. Lordy, I'm over 35....used goods. Never catch someone being all over the hill, and whatnot....Sh*t, now what? Perhaps the beloved author of this article can help me further...
----
Rachel Greenwald is the author of the new book "Why He Didn't Call You Back: 1,000 Guys Reveal What They Really Thought About You After Your Date." She is also the New York Times best-selling author of "Find a Husband After 35 Using What I Learned at Harvard Business School." Rachel is a frequent guest on The Today Show, The Early Show, CNN, National Public Radio, The Dennis Prager Show, and has been featured in "O" The Oprah Magazine, Fortune Magazine, The New Yorker, People, USA Today, and many others. Visit her website and ask Rachel a question at http://www.whyhedidntcallyouback.com/.
Ready for this? She is described as, "The Boss Lady" - he'd rather hire her than date her.
Well, there seems to be a gender gap of perspective between the guys and the gals in this, so let's explore.
Guys' perception: she is argumentative, competitive, controlling, not feminine, too independent, not nurturing, or some combination of the above.
Gals' perception: I am persuasive, capable, street-smart, organized, modern, confident, or forthright.
There are no tips for the men. But the following helpful hints and handy tips, of course, are directed toward the WOMEN. Ready again?
Soften your delivery. Some of the negative perceptions a man has about The Boss Lady are reactions to how she speaks and acts, not about her inherent personality. Toning down your conversation style ( I will not!) from combative or challenging to gracious, and even a little flirtatious, goes a long way. (I have to FLIRT with him, too?) And if you find yourself on opposite sides of an issue, try sprinkling qualifying words into your dialogue such as "I think" or "I wonder" or "maybe," which allow for disagreement but aren't adversarial.
Look like a woman. At work, conservative and structured clothing allows you to be taken seriously, but it's not exactly sensual by candlelight. Don't go straight from work in your power suit to meet him for dinner; rather, change into something soft and flirty. And try growing your hair longer: men told me that shoulder-length hair (or longer) is more feminine. Sure, you're a strong and capable woman, but think Scarlett O'Hara not Hillary Clinton. (falling over laughing - now whar did ah leave ma bonnet?)
Select what you need, not want. Like the Rolling Stones say, "You can't always get what you want, but you just might find, you get what you need." So think hard about the men you're selecting (no doubt I will). For The Boss Lady, a nurturing, giving type of guy can be optimal (been there, done that) (maybe he's a teacher or chef instead of Wall Street broker?). That's the opposite image of what most successful career women seek, but your best match might be a man who balances you emotionally: someone who is laid-back, sweet, surrendering, and patient. He might be just what you need.
Gulp. I've done it all wrong. I've been my authentic self, and this is totally wrong if I want to "catch" a man, Scarlett O'Hara style. Lordy, I'm over 35....used goods. Never catch someone being all over the hill, and whatnot....Sh*t, now what? Perhaps the beloved author of this article can help me further...
----
Rachel Greenwald is the author of the new book "Why He Didn't Call You Back: 1,000 Guys Reveal What They Really Thought About You After Your Date." She is also the New York Times best-selling author of "Find a Husband After 35 Using What I Learned at Harvard Business School." Rachel is a frequent guest on The Today Show, The Early Show, CNN, National Public Radio, The Dennis Prager Show, and has been featured in "O" The Oprah Magazine, Fortune Magazine, The New Yorker, People, USA Today, and many others. Visit her website and ask Rachel a question at http://www.whyhedidntcallyouback.com/.
Saturday
Saying Goodbye to our Faithful Friend
Our sweetheart AKC Labrador Retriever, Bobo's Black Velvet Licorice Twist, is dying from an inoperable heart mass at the age of eleven.
Born September 21, 1997, Licorice literally bounded into our lives on the Sessom Farm outside Fayetteville, North Carolina in December of that same year. Of the two litter picks still available, we chose the lovable dolt with the frayed tail who ignored us completely. Instead, she dove right into eating a box of tulip bulbs.
She's moved homes more than any pet should have to do; she's braved arid Arizona yards, suffered brambles in her paws, greeted everyone at the front door with an illicit ball-crushing leap, and in general made a pest of herself at every moment.
We wish those moments could last a lifetime, but she knows it is her time to go.
If you've 'encountered' Licorice, you know why our hearts are nigh to broken. She's been our sweetheart, our beloved, our finest most loyal (and forgiving) friend for almost twelve years.
We have options for her care, but she is deteriorating rapidly. She was born on the Fall Solstice; should we choose to consider euthanization, it will be on March 21st 2009, the Spring Solstice.
Please send prayers to our beloved, and ask that additional Guardian Angels be assigned to her for the rest of her life. If you'd like to post a thought, or memory, please feel free to do so.
Love,
Shira Roy and Christopher
Consider making a donation in Licorice's name at my favorite charity: ASPCA
Times are tight for some, but even five dollars worth of lattes or chewing gum money will help!
Sunday
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