OUTSIDE THE TRANCE

What's happening in the world in a variety of cities and countries, is also going on inside of us.It is not just about change; it's about breaking the trance of everyday life that we have unintentionally, even unknowingly carried since birth. 

The trance, as I see it, assuming I am outside the trance, are all the beliefs that may not be our own, that we have carried with us forever, taught to us by others. Beliefs about women, men, children, education, schools, money, work, self judgment, skin color, religions, relationships, sex, parenting, body size, age, dying living, and even .....fish.    

These beliefs, often hidden by their familiarity, (everyone else does it this way), disguise who we are inside, our passions, our creativity, our essence, and our unlimited ability to care about everyone without judgment of what they wear, or the pain they may carry behind their sometimes disturbing behaviors.  

These beliefs, not our own, are revealed by the tension our bodies carry, the symptoms we experience that we call "sick," out of sorts, "it's just the flu, or a cold, or ....."  The symptoms are real, and the hurts hurt.  And sometimes these hurts and pains and symptoms are the body getting our attention to pay attention, slow down, feel, make contact.....question everything, say hi to strangers, 
sit down and breath.  Look into the eyes of everyone.

STANDING UP FOR AND WITH

As a student In my Los Angeles high school, during an assembly, a friend, Jack Bellano, was being
harassed by some students because of the way he looked.  Although this school was a mixture
of many people of color and race, "they" wanted him to move his seat and go elsewhere.
Instinctively, I came over and without thinking, "Jack stays where he is.  Leave him alone."
They did. 

While in the Navy, on board an aircraft carrier, one of the other enlisted men took on the role
of demanding one of the Filipino cooks move faster.  The second time I saw this, I told the
"white" Navy man to leave the cook alone and respect him.  He resisted until I showed him that
I had one more day of ranking over him.  Reluctantly, he stepped back. 

The story continues.  During my second year of high school teaching, I discovered the principal
was placing all the black students in a special education class--a class that received more money
from the state.  The other twenty-two teachers were aware of this.  The principal, when I approached
him, said, "so?"

I decided to report this to the State and ask for an investigation.  All twenty-two teachers said
they would confirm this practice and speak up when the investigators came.   I called the
State Education office, and an investigator came days later.

Each person was questioned individually.  I later learned that of the twenty-two teachers, none
of them spoke up.  I was the only one to speak up.  I knew I would not be rehired, instead, I was
terminated during my second year.  As this was happening, I applied to teach in Santa Barbara, California, and was hired to begin in the new school year. 

Weeks later after the investigation was over, and I was in my last weeks of teaching, I received a letter from the Santa Barbara school district, withdrawing their offer of hiring me.  No reason
was given, nor was one needed.  By this time, I had learned there was a silent State "blackball" system in place in case someone should question the system.

I was disappointed, yet I knew something good would come of the incident.  It did.  With a family of two children and one wife, I applied for work with a new federal program that required me to work with and among Native Americans......a people and culture I only knew from movies.   I was to be a "therapist" kind of counselor to Native Americans from many tribes around the country, all gathered in one location.  Within one month, I realized that the all-White staff knew little of Native culture or ways in the world, nor interested,  As a regular "white" guy, I soon felt more "Indian" than regular white guy.  I discovered the meaning of Sacred, humor, compassion, family, caring, and most of all, less empty trying to impress talking, and the power of silence between words.....and simple presence of silence.

After two years of advocating for the Native people in peaceful ways, providing meaningful service, the program CEO told me I needed to leave, and I was to be terminated.  The 200 Native students heard of my departure, and went on strike, declining to go to classes, thus depriving the administration of government funds.  They demanded that I be reinstated first.  For two days, they
struck.  I felt shy and embarrassed by their standing up for me.  I was rehired and the program
went on.

Incidents continued through my life where I instinctively stood by and for people.  I had to.
And why is another story.  One sentence about what motivated me.  As a five-year-old Jewish boy in
New York, then later as an eight-year old little boy in Glendale, California, I experienced being harassed, and hated for being a Jew, something I did not know I was.  I was just me, a little boy
who liked to play.  Yet, my personal childhood experiences, deeply wakened me to caring for, and standing up for others marginalized and mistreated.   I had to. 




.   
 

NO MATTER THE AGE

I remember when I was a teenager or younger, how some adults dismissed me as being too young, as though I had no feelings or awareness of anything.   My feelings when fifteen years old were no different than the adults I now meet that are going through relationship difficulties, and feel hurt, alone and despondent.  No matter our age, culture or color, when we hurt or feel sad, we need caring, respect, listening, and love around us.  Most of all, a sense that we matter, and we get "to." 

MAGMA AND OUR BODIES

Guess what?  Transcend your mind and need to make sense, and these words may make sense.  We have hidden fissures within our bodies that are containers for the voices andreactions of others since birth.  Like magma beneath the surface of earth, or our bodies, it flows freely, sometimes erupting or oozing out slowly, shaking up the forests and mountains around it.  That is what it does.

 Our bodies carry this magma in the form of heated exchanges, old beliefs, and emotional and feeling channels seeking free flow, unobstructed, and part of the earth and all the inhabitants. Open channels are us.  We are the open channels ultimately.

 Open for ourselves, and open for all those around us, wanting only to flow freely, unobstructed by past fears, past closures and, once again, beliefs not our own. Love is the magma. 

BEYOND OUR BELIEFS: PART 2

“Don’t worry about doing anything right. 
 Be curious, play......listen."   

             Tess Lerner .....A wise woman seer

                                                                     
Children everywhere of all sizes, genders, ages and colors, need fairness, equal respect, compassion, inclusion and total equality within the family, the community and the world.

I'm a child.  I know what I am doing. I know who I am.  Follow me.  See me.  Find me in you.  Really, find me in you.  I am the voice of the universal child.   My voice is your voice, the one hidden by beliefs not your own.  Beliefs that seem so familiar and natural,  yet, are often not the beliefs you had when a little person. 

Being a child is a universal story.  It is a human story, no matter the color of your skin, or religion, nor part of the world you live in.  Being a child has nothing to do with age, height, weight or where you live.  Children emerge into this world, not only innocent, but a living example of what all of us busy, hurried, smart phoned, Facebooked, big people can access and live out again------freeing ourselves from physical and emotional symptoms requiring medications, diagnoses and believing we are never quite good enough. 
 

Would our minds take a rest?  Would our need to compare, judge, blame and feel alone, or separate exist in the same way?  Schools, books, workshop trainers and psychology people could be transformed into the practice of listening well, caring, transcending the need for punishment, rules, regulations and defined expectations of others, especially children.      

    

TONE OF VOICE IS EVERYTHING

Who are the children?  Really.   Who are these little beings that come through us, into our daily lives and bring an energy filled body, wanting only to play, touch, laugh and be who they are?   Are they simply innocent little humans that need to be taught, raised and channeled into a world of rules, regulations, expectations and programmed systems?

Just wondering.  Actually, I'm not wondering.  Simply by recalling my early years as a child surrounded by an adult world filled with what I was supposed to do, prepare for and live out, I even wondered then what this world was all about.

 My secret life was about wondering.  Then there was my uncle Solly, a professional photographer, lover of music, and someone who I could sit with for hours and listen to his speaking voice, his stories, his sense of equality with me, even when I was still wearing diapers.

His voice remained constant in tone and respect whether he spoke to me or to the adults around me.
I didn't consciously know how he saw me, but I felt his equality with me.  I was not a "less than"
human because of my size or age.  To him, I was ageless, as most children are.  He was the one adult
person that spoke to me with the same tone of voice as he used with my parents or other adults

In later years when he was in his eighties, and about 30 years after I last saw him, I unexpectedly visited with him.  I sat across from him in his big house in Los Angeles, and told him how he was the one human being that taught me about equal respect at a heart and soul level.  I told him that his simple equal tone of voice allowed me to stay connected with being myself the rest of my life.

He cried, held my hand, and I continued.  "By being yourself, respectful and simply kind and loving, I got to keep that part of myself alive.....and to share your gift to me with others. 

He was another angel in disguise.  

A LOVE STORY: AND A COIN

My son and I were sitting in a small local breakfast place in Santa Monica, California.  We were surrounded by families, and people from everywhere......all colors, sizes and genders.  A world setting. 

Two boys about seven and eight, sat a few feet away with their mothers.  The younger boy was wanting something, struggling against his mother, and crying angrily.  His mom was attempting to get his attention and calm him, as she held one of his arms.  
      
Inside me, I felt his frustration.  I took a coin out of my pocket, placed it in my hand, turned my chair towards his table, and with both hands extended in front of me, I reached into his line of vision two feet away, and said, "tell me which hand the coin is in." Immediately, he turned, facing me directly.   smiling, ready to join me.  My intent was not to fix him, but to join him.

With a clear voice, I repeated, "Guess which hand has the coin."  He reached out to touch one hand, then the other.  He was moving up and down with joy.  I pulled my hands behind my back again to shift the coin.  This time, when I brought my hands back in front of us, he quickly reached out to gently hold on to one hand, believing it held the coin.  His whole body was laughing.  

We continued the "game" several times, connecting with our eyes, our hands and with laughter.  I was
warm inside.  We were bonded. 

One mother started to cry.  She looked at me.  "Thank you,"  she said through tears.  "Thank you."  Their food came and they ate together, all smiling.