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zukkacore · 3 years

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Whitewashing in AtlaLok: the Western & Christian Influence on s2 of LoK

Ok, so i’m not a big brained expert on all things indigenous or even all things asian but I do think bryke's christian & western worldview seeps so far into season 2 of LoK that i think out of every season it’s by far the most unsalvageable out of everything they’ve ever done in the Atlaverse and is a very insidious kind of whitewashing. I know that sounds hefty but here’s what I mean

For the record, I’m a mixed filipino person & while there is religious diversity among filipinos, more than i think ppl realize or that the catholic majority is willing to let on, when we were colonized a large percent of the population was indeed forced to convert to catholicism so that’s my background, & i don’t know everything about taoism or the what the tai chi symbol represents but the way Bryke westernize the concept of Yin and Yang is honestly… kinda bewildering. They get so many details about yin & yang wrong?? & Yes, it’s possible they could’ve been trying to create their own lore that differentiates itself from the traditional depictions of Yin & Yang, but in the end i think it doesn’t matter b/c the lore they invent is a very obviously western interpretation of the concept of “balance”.

The most important and honestly worst change they make is that concepts of “light” and “dark” are completely oversimplified and flattened to represent basically “good” and “evil” (which, the light and dark side are a bit more complex than representing just “peace/order vs. Chaos” like the show might imply but we don’t even have time for that, but is funny how they get the genders wrong. Like. Traditionally, light is usually coded masculine and dark is usually coded feminine, but never mind that, that’s just a tangent). This really simplifies the nuance of the s2 conflict and makes it a lot less interesting, not to mention just—misrepresents a very real religious philosophy?

And for the record, a piece of media going out of its way to do "the show, don’t tell" thing of stating in the text that “oh, light and dark are not the same thing as good vs. evil” without actually displaying that difference through the writing is just lip service, and its poor writing. A lot of pieces of media do this, but i think s2 of LoK is particularly egregious. The point of this philosophy of balance is that you aren’t supposed to moralize about which side is “good” or “bad”, or even really which one is “better” or “worse”. Even if the show states the concepts are not interchangeable, if the media in question continually frames one side (and almost always its “chaos/darkness”) as the “evil” side, then the supposed distinction between “light vs. dark” and “good vs. evil” is made moot. And besides the occasional offhand remark that implies more nuance without actually delivering, Vaatu is basically stock evil incarnate.

This depiction of conflict as “defeating a singular representation of total evil” isn’t solely christian, but it is definitely present in christian beliefs. And I think those kinds of stories can be done well, but in this case, in a world filled entirely of asian, Pacific Islander & inuit poc, to me it feels like a form of subtle whitewashing? B/c you’re taking characters that probably wouldn’t have christian beliefs, and imposing a christian worldview onto them. Not to mention removes what could have been an interesting conflict of any nuance and intrigue… and honestly, sucks, because I do think s2 has the bones of an interesting idea, mostly b/c there are potential themes that could’ve been explored—I know this b/c they were already explored in a movie that exists, and it’s name is Princess Mononoke! It has a lot of the same elements—tension between spirits and humanity, destruction of nature in the face of rapid industrialization, moral ambiguity where there are no easy or fast answers and both sides have sympathetic and understandable points of view. (Unsurprising b/c Miyazaki is Japanese & Japanese culture has a lot of influence from Buddhism, Taoism, Shintoism, etc)

Bryke’s western & christian worldview also totally seeps into the characterization of Unalaq, the antagonist of the season which is a real problem. I’m in the middle of rewatching s2 right now and what struck me is that….. Unalaq comes across kinda ecofash AND fundamentalist which is 1) seems like an odd combination but maybe it really isn’t? 2) i think is a really tacky choice considering that the water tribes take the majority of its inspiration from inuit and polynesian indigenous cultures.

I honestly forgot abt this but Unalaq gives this whole lame speech abt how the SWT & humans as a whole suck b/c of their lack of spiritual connection & it was really eerie to me b/c "humans are morally bankrupt and they must be wiped out/punished for their destruction of the environment" is total ecofash logic bc it blames all of humanity for damage caused by those in power—be they capitalists or whoever. It’s a worldview that blames the poor and powerless for something they have no say in, and has real eugenics undertones bc with every implication of culling, there has to be someone who appoints themself the job of culling—of who is and isn’t worthy of death.

This belief also struck me as......... kinda christian in it's logic as well which is WEIRD b/c once again........ their cultural inspirations are DEFINITELY not christian...... The whole "man is inherently evil and must spend their whole lifetime repenting/must face punishment for it’s wickedness" thing and the way that christianity treats humanity as born with original sin or inherently corrupt—as well as above or separate from nature are really stronger undertones in Unalaqs worldview....... which isn't really an indigenous way or thinking.

I'm generalizing of course but from what I have seen from the indigenous people who speak on this is that (feel free to point out or correct me if i’m mostly generalizing abt Native Americans and not other indigenous cultures & there are some differences here) is that while native tribes are not monolithic and do vary wildly, there are a lot of common threads and that reverence and respect toward nature and your surroundings is an important tenant of indigenous beliefs. (I specifically remember the hosts on All My Relations saying essentially that we humans are a part of nature, we are not separate from it, and humans are not superior to animals—I’m paraphrasing but that is the gist of it)

So, yeah, I think it’s just really distasteful to write an indigenous character who is characterized in a way that’s way more in line with a christian fundamentalist & wants to bring about a ragnarok style apocalypse end of the world when that isn’t really a tenant of our beliefs? (btw, the way the end of the world is framed is also kinda fucked up? If i were being charitable, I could say that maybe s2’s storyline is a corruption of the hindu depiction of the end of the world, but even that sounds mildly insulting for reasons I won’t get into b/c i am Not The Expert On Hinduism. I will say that once again, the framing of the concept is all wrong, the show views the idea of apocalypse through a very western lense)

To wrap this up, I think the depiction of Unalaq could *maybe* work b/c he is the antagonist, so someone who strays from the NWT cultural tradition in a way that makes his view of morality more black and white wouldn’t be a *horrible* idea for the bad guy of the season. Especially because the introduction of capitalism to the A:TLA universe could probably cause a substantial shifts to… idk, everything i guess, b/c capitalism is so corrosive. Like. Sometimes people are just traitors. I do think it would be interesting to portray the way capitalism manifests in a society without white christians. Like… I do think there are a lot of ways secular christianity and capitalism are interlinked. But Unalaq is not portrayed as an outsider, he’s portrayed as hyper-traditionalist in a way that’s vilified? I guess rightly so, he does suck, but it’s just hard to conceptualize how a person like Unalaq comes to exist in the first place. In the end, I don’t really think it makes sense, in a world without white people, I don’t really know where this introduction of black and white christian morality would even come from in the avatar world?

TL;DR, Bryke applying western christian morality & world views to non-white characters in a world where white people have NEVER existed to affect our beliefs is a subtle form of white-washing. It imposes simplified “good vs. evil” world-views & cultural beliefs onto its characters. Any attempt to represent or even just integrate our actual beliefs into the A:tla lore are twisted and misrepresented is a way that is disrespectful and saps out any nuance or intrigue from the story, and alienates the people its supposed to represent from recognizing themselves within the final product. And Finally, on a more superficial story level, these writing choices clashe with the already existing world of ATLA--and is honestly just poor world-building.

#shut up Janelle #lok #Atla #lok crit #legend of korra

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spacemilkies · 5 years

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Could you do a Ben Hargreeves request where the reader and Ben dated and were in love before he died and the readers always been there for Klaus so they're like best friends but the reader doesn't know that Ben is with Klaus after he dies since he wants her to be able to move on even though he's always gonna love her but obviously it comes out? Like fluff flashbacks to them being happy and in love. I love your writing btw!

title: the wheels go round and round

pairing: ben hargreeves x reader; platonic!klaus hargreeves x reader

summary:

the three of you were like a three-wheeled bike

but then you lost a wheel

its a good thing most bicyles can run on two wheels …

right?

a/n: bless the day to umbrella academy. after months of drought, it rained down 5k+ words on my soul

hope you like!

It was more than just an itch.

When describing the sensation of feeling the departed, Klaus had always summarized the connection to an itch.

But it was more than that.

It was a whisper at times and a shout at its worst.

It was both the burn of a cigarette and the sharp punch of frost.

Klaus no longer just enjoyed life because since the day he was born, he’d been destined to share it. Whether it be someone’s brother, mother or aunt.

He couldn’t simply exist without the obligation of presenting himself as a window to those who have departed. They were tethered to him, mere specters unable to indulge in their own whims.

But more often than not, Klaus felt like the collar was around his own neck. The hallucinations tightening around his throat like a noose.

It was suffocating.

Until the few times it wasn’t.

The moments where Ben was on one side,

and you were on the other.

“Please … Klaus. Not tonight.”

Had he had the energy, Klaus would have rejoiced. In the sea of hell, submerged in a pool of souls, hearing his dear brother’s voice was like breaking the surface.

Regrettably, at times he’d been too deep to begin with. The rapid ascend cracking his chest with aches and muddling the shores of his mind.

Or perhaps it was just the cocaine.

‘Twas all a blur at this age.

Except for his brother.

Klaus had been convinced that his brother’s multiple appendages had followed him into the next life, where they finally joined into one.

One string enough to define the parameters of life and death.

One potent enough where Klaus could almost feel the warmth of his finger tips.

No, this was definitely the cocaine speaking.

Shuddering past the residue, eyes fixated forward despite the obvious request for his attention. He learned long ago that it was much easier to escape the allure of desires that were not his own this way.

Of course, the notion worked better with strangers.

“And what exactly did I promise, dear brother?”

He knew.

Ben only sought him out for two things: loneliness and you.

And the two were often more intertwined than independent.

The phantom steps weren’t quite as soundless when the familiar gait in his memory coupled with reality. With his head bowed, Klaus only allowed himself the view of the restless sneakers planted in front of him.

He would account for deniability for just a little longer. Just until the fog lifted.

Yes, there was one plus to his powers.

No matter how much his brother wanted to launch him into kingdom come with the flick of his very murderous friends, there was just no true density to his physical wants.

“Klaus were going to be late. The recital starts in less twenty minutes. “

And in the other side of town, Klaus recalled groggily of the event he wasn’t suppose to remember. Not only would he be pushing the limits of his rather shallow physicality, but he would also suffer to the sharp keys struck in cohesion to whatever dated classical piece chosen for the night.

He could still hear the thundering notes of the last one echoing off the sides of his skull.

The agony of the preservation of music.

“Klaus!”

“Fuck!” Scrambling to his feet, the disheveled man shakily reached for the wall for balance. A few of his trivial belongings clattered to the street below. At least they were disposable now, there was no way he’d be able to make the trip back down again.

Beyond the determination, there was a hint of sympathy in Ben’s gaze. Despite being forever frozen in time by passing, Klaus felt like he was still growing despite the absence of aging. That and Klaus always had a soft spot for his sixth placed sibling.

Well, shit, there went his small window of deniability.

Smoothing his hands down the tattered and grimy black of his clothing, Klaus snuffed audibly as he looked down the alleyway.

“Well let’s get going then.”

____

“Fucking cmon, man.”

Klaus let out a quiet groan of disgruntlement when he peered around the corner once more. Much like like last three times, funding his brother just as ensnared with his significant other.

Despite his warnings, neither of the couple had kept things chaste. He’s managed to get more than an eyeful of Ben’s wandering hands and exposed skin.

Keeping a timer was a futile attempt.

They were too young to die.

Practically skinned alive by their father for sneaking out again.

Getting caught for it again.

All for love.

Teenage reckless love.

Counting upward, skipping a few useless numbers along the way, Klaus finally decided on a limit and turned back to the pair with a stronger resolve.

“As distastefully envious I am of your abrupt jump from bases so quickly, I’m afraid you’ll deny me the opportunity to try the same in the future if we don’t get going,” he emphasized with a pointed look at anything but the two flushed individuals.

Ben let out an equality frustrated huff and you laughed in turn.

And Klaus…,

Poor Klaus was just ready to end it all.

Ben drew you in close once more for a quick snog, one teetering close to another endless makeout fest without his brother’s grunt.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, after your classes?”

Your face scrunched in thought, before clearing with recollection and you shook your head,” I have practice tomorrow evening.”

Ben’s bottom lip pulled downward at the thought, but you quickly remedied it with a peck on the cheek and a suggestion.

“But maybe, we can meet at night? At the cafe?”

The question was directed more towards the lingering Klaus, who rolled his eyes.

The gesture met by silence.

Seconds ticking into minutes, until he couldn’t take it any longer.

He threw up his arms in exasperation.

“Fine, you little miscreants. I swear if you two drag me through a teenage pregnancy. I will kill you both and drag your souls into my bedroom to view a true the horrors of entangled lovers.”

“Ugh, I don’t know.”

Rubbing sleepily under the droop of his eyes, Klaus was willing to bet anything as long as it got him back in bed before noon. If someone told him something like friendship was such a binding contract, he would have gladly done without it.

The remaining option of pure solicitude and his family be damned.

Anything less would have had him in bed still.

“Look, Ben will love anything you get him. He’s easy like that,” he quipped around a yawn.

What he didn’t mention was how frankly any of them would take a grain of salt if it came as a gift on their names-day.

Who knew being born without an identity would come without the rest of the joys in the world. But with everything else denied, what was one more traumatized shard of a misplaced childhood.

When he finally returned to reality, he found you standing just under him, your nose barely bringing the line of his shoulder. You were watching intently, in a way that could only be described as expectation.

Ah, you’d said something else hadn’t you?

God, he was just making this much longer for himself.

What did Ben even like?

Surely under all the endless screaming and turmoil Klaus had been present enough to at least learn something impertinent about his brother.

All of his siblings mumble of wants.

A proper life.

A real family.

Friends.

Bringing together all two of his lingering brain cells, he squared his shoulders with a posture of authority. “A music book.”

To his suggestion, your nose twisted into a look of pure disbelief.

Oh, you unfortunate clueless little doll. If only he had the time to introduce you to the chaotic world his brother had created to express his undying love for you.

“A music book, because he likes to understand you. You and that complicated, beautifully musically-inclined brain that he’s so obsessed with. Poor boy is tone deaf, but if he can keep up with you literately, then he’s a happy monkey.”

His lips pulled at the joke that went over your head with no reminiscence.

All that mattered was that his brother would be happy.

You would be sated.

And he could get his ass back to sleep.

Klaus felt like something worse than a train had plowed into him. Which was ironic, because he couldn’t think of much else that would leave his body wriggling in agony.

Just the effort needed to part his eyelids felt like shouldering the weight of cinderblocks. The trials of it all would have been much more terrifying had it only been the first occurrence.

Fortunately, or supposedly unfortunately given his state of health, this was far from the first time that he’d found himself plastered to his brother’s couch. His impromptu visits were really beginning to affect the integrity of the upholstery, he mused as he picked lethargically at the dried flakes of his own spittle.

Not even on his best day could Klaus recall exactly where they’d drug him from this time. He tended to only bare the scorches of hell not the memories of it.

A low rumble of thunder tickled at his consciousness, and his body managed to comprehend the action to find the available window perched just east of his grungy nest.

To find only instant regret as the bright rays began the thrall if his punishment.

No storm then.

Then what was- oh.

“The parents are arguing,” He sang alone and off tune to the accompaniment of two voices just beyond his reach. Despite its size, their cute little kitchen managed manifest acoustics only found in the hazy mists if his shower.

“He needs to go to rehab, Ben! This is getting ridiculous.”

“Rehab isn’t going to cure the voices. “

Understanding the horrors behind why Klaus was such a dysfunctional mess had done nothing to deter your efforts to provide him with solace.

More often than not he found himself drug to recitals and practice performances where you felt the noise would help to overcome the screams.

It may have been a nicer sentiment should he have control of the playlist if songs. He was more likely to fall asleep and face his maker than find peace.

Indirectly he found himself observing Vanya on more than one occasion, however, a Samaritan token that he hoped he could cash in at some point in the future

“So were suppose to just let him keep doing this to him self. “

Oh bless your soul.

Klaus shoulders rolled in a crooked dance as his hand touched the three places out of order to a religion he had no experience dabbling in.

May the big guy or women upstairs truly gift you for your heart.

“Baby, it’s not that easy…”

Well, gift you more than they had when they wrapped Ben up and presented him to you.

Klaus wondered if you recognized the veteran you were when it came to keeping the real monsters at bay.

“You think when this is all over … think I could marry her?”

The question was asked so causally that Klaus nearly inhaled the paper roll balanced between his lips. Ben, this little rascal, hardly missed a second as he reached over to take a puff for himself.

A slow dazed smile curled at his lips, his mind floating up and away in chase of the cloud.

All the while, Klaus nearly died from an abrupt pneumonectomy.

“Sorry, I’d like to dissect this first. When what’s over? Sorry to break it to you, but those powers aren’t going anywhere.”

That was a long dead dream amongst all the siblings. This was their life and they just had to adapt to make the best of it.

Funny, he couldn’t remember if he’d heard that from mom or dad.

Frankly, their mother was an autonomous robot programmed by their father, so he supposed they were one in the same.

He shudders at the visage.

Ben took another long drag before handing the joint back, letting the smoke settle in him before releasing it out into the world. He was becoming such a professional, Klaus almost wanted to cry.

Rolling his head back, Ben caught his brother’s gaze, the same languid grin still plastered on his lips,” I mean the old man has got to die at some point right? Then we’d be free.”

Except the old geezer just couldn’t seem to find the bucket to kick. Klaus had to wonder if he was even born with one.

Maybe that’s why he took everything from them, because he lost his bucket. Since he had to suffered it was only right that he did.

Scoffing, Klaus fell back into the cushions of the couch. Their father dying would just be one nightmare for another to him. While his other siblings lived their life, he’d be the unlikely bastard still hearing dead old dad.

He waved his brother to continue,” So dad dies. He has no more control. Enter your bride to be. What could go wrong ?”

“They could say no.”

The taste of rejection was familiar and thick, a viscous emotion that was contagious in all the worst ways. It was an airborne virus, a bacterial infection- a stigma embedded into the very walls they grew up in.

They’d spent their whole lives being discarded from the inside. How would they handle the same on the outside?

Well Klaus certainly didn’t think that Ben deserved that.

“You’re an idiot. Of course they would say yes.”

And when that lazy smile brightening with the energy of the sun, Klaus thinks, yeah it’ll be alright.

___

Except it’s not.

It’s the opposite of okay.

___

“Did you know he wanted to marry me?”

Klaus looks up in surprise, though somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t. You were equally as expressive as you were aware. To be honest, you had to be to keep up with them.

Just because they were a danger, didn’t mean they weren’t inherently surrounded by it as well.

As fate brought about.

Ben always made sure to keep you on your toes. Scolding you when your back was turned to the happenings of the world. It was done out of love, to protect you from what you couldn’t see.

Your defense when he wasn’t there.

So of course you’d been primed to pick up on little mannerisms and peculiarities. Lately, when the two of you were alone, wrapped up in your lovers nest, Ben often lost himself to his own thoughts.

But naturally that wasn’t enough to support the little investigation.

No, you needed evidence.

The little box hidden behind the bookshelf was more than enough to close the case.

You still had it.

Unsure of what to do with it now. It didn’t seem like a family heirloom, but what did you know ?

The touch of your own hand stroked fondly over the fingers of your left, a quirk of a sullen smile twitching halfheartedly.

“Yeah, I knew. It was so easy to tell with him.”

Ben’s manifestation came as easy as a whisper yet felt like the heavy side of an iron hammer. He hovered between the two of them, uncertainty rooting his presence just short of reaching you.

His face twisted at the sight of your solemn agony as you picked apart the memories of your life together.

“Every recital I kept wonder if that was going to be the day. “

Klaus could only watch it play out, no plausible intervention available in his capacity to offer comfort. The wound was still so fresh and deep with all of them. The two of you together were just barely managing to keep the gape from tearing wider.

“Then I realized, that wouldn’t be his style. He’d probably try to stick it in a milkshake then freak out when I went for a spoon.”

Ben’s broken laugh cracks his chest, rattling like a case of skeletons. Klaus is glad you can’t hear it, the torment of its sound would only plague his nightmares.

“I would have said yes without a ring.”

When Ben reaches for her, Klaus can’t help but do the same. The urge feels like his own, physically, but when his brother lays his hand atop the pile the warmth doesn’t feel like it’s coming from his own body. At the touch, it sparks an array of emotions he’d only once viewed through a one way mirror.

Now he was the window.

Too bad it was already broken.

“I would have said yes to anything.”

____

“Every time. I know you say you’ll see me again, but damn, you really surprise me, Klaus.”

When Klaus draws you in for a hug, its more than instinctual. Its not an ambient desire.

Its a whim of his own, something that he takes his own personal comfort in.

His.

So maybe he’s a little disgruntled, when a third pair of arms joins the embrace.

And maybe, he’s a little smug when you only respond to his warmth, and his alone.

Call it his own payment.

Grinning, you brush away the damp fringe from your flushed cheek. You always called performing a rush. He thought living with Vanya would help him understand that, but it seemed that music lover’s were truly just one of a kind.

“Tell her how amazing she sounded.”

Ben encroaches on the moment again, and Klaus grits his teeth to bare the grin as he recites the words. Sometimes he wonders if he you can hear his voice as well as he can. The two of you always had such a special connection.

It was a shame that death had to be the one thing that built a wall between you.

With a sigh that could double as exhaustion, you leaned back on your heels. The adrenaline of the recital was finally wearing off. All the long nights and endless dance of fingers across the keys had waned down to this moment, and now it was over.

For now at least.

Give or take a few weeks, just short of a month or two and you would be back at it again.

“So … you look … good?” You winced at the delivery but prided yourself on how it didn’t come out sounding like an interrogation. It was so difficult to properly voice your worries when it came to Klaus.

So much had changed over the years.

You thought you would be able to function without the third wheel.

Most bikes ran on just two after all.

But Klaus seemed to need that third wheel in a capacity that you just couldn’t understand. Frankly, there were a lot of things you didn’t quite comprehend and you had practically dated a superhero.

But with Ben it had been not easy but simpler in all the ways that came natural as being together.

Klaus was the opposite in more ways the one.

Yet so explicitly streamlined down the single reason that he wasn’t alone.

He was never really alone.

No matter how often you tried to fill the space with your presence, some skeleton from the past managed to draw him away.

You think thats the one thing you hated most about the house he grew up in. Despite all those people, it had been voided from so much love that it got to the point that he’d let anything in.

And now he didn’t know how to close the door.

He was getting so weathered just standing at the entrance, taking whatever was thrown at him.

Klaus managed his usual exaggerated grin, and you made no comment of how it drooped a the side. “Oh, but thank you my dear. Truly, here I thought no one would noticed how I walked straight off the runway to make it here on time.”

Laughing came easy, even when it was forced.

“Well, I appreciate it. I really do, Klaus. Everytime.”

Klaus lifts his shoulders and let him fall in his own quirky way,“It’s what he would have wanted.”

“Still wants.” Ben’s words drift like a breeze.

You reach for his hand, meaning every word as they cross your lips,“Yeah, well, he had a great brother.”

There was no denying that your friendship had fractured from being on the receiving end of the blow that was Ben’s death. Things weren’t quite as they were, lacking the instrumental piece that his ghost couldn’t be to bridge your worlds.

But it wasn’t broken.

Ben wouldn’t allow it. He kept Klaus alive, pushing him to remain conscious and aware of the world. Even if his brother’s motivations were selfish demonstrations of his own agendas.

At the end of the day, Klaus retained your friendship.

And in a world of apparitions, it was nice to reach for something and have it met half way.

“Yes, thank you. I’m glad he can hear that and my efforts are for naught.”

Ben flittered between the two of you, instinctively drawn into your orbit. Klaus tried not encroach, but unable to not watch as Ben tried in vain to grasp the wisps of your hair. The intentions phased through you without your notice yet Ben’s look of complacence didn’t falter in the slightest.

It’s what he wanted for you after all.

Your blissful unawareness would be necessary for you to properly prefers in a world without him.

Even when he was still there to watch your steps forward.

“We should treat her to her favorite cafe.”

Ben was back at his side, flickering in and out of space with ease. The question snapped Klaus out of his revere and he found himself answering audibly in reflex,“Oh yes, with my limited funds.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion,

“Sorry?”

Klaus waved you off, not having to explain in detail for once or come up with an exuberant tale to mask his insanity. “Oh, not you.”

Your eyes flashed with recognition. Apart as you were, you weren’t as accustomed to Klaus day to day demons. The man who was once a constant in your life managed to fade to the background without your say so. You knew he was doing it out of his own attempts to shield you.

With Ben, you were a proper team, one that could at least attempt to maintain the forlorn sibling. But alone, it felt like you were a mere spectator.

“Is it getting worse? I mean its, always worse right?”

“Not… always,” he trailed off.

“Klaus you cant keep drowning them away the way you are. Its not healthy.”

This really wasn’t how he planned for this evening to go. But you were a lecturer at heart and consequently he was your favorite subject. He had resist the urge to make a face when Ben hummed in agreement. “I know that.”

He looked up at the touch of your hand, trying hard not get to far swept into your altruistic stigma. Without Ben around, he’d managed to do a better job of dragging you into his mess rather than allow you to pull him out.

You were just too helpful.

Always loaning money or your couch to rest on.

Just attending your performances hardly felt like a redemption to all your kindness. Ben certainly felt that way. In Klaus defense, he never lead a very virtuous life to begin with. Besides, wasn’t the point of all this for you to live your own life?

Ben had died, leaving you two to reform a friendship in his absence. Sure, it was the squeakiest wheel but it turned.

You had just as strong of a hand in keeping him afloat.

“Then act like you mean it. I know its not fair for me to simplify something so difficult, but you just have to cut them out.”

Klaus wondered if he’d imagined the hitch in your voice or if Ben had noticed it as well. Your gaze had lowered as you delivered into your speech, hiding away the true emotions festering beneath. Klaus didn’t know what he would do if the sniffling began. He was oh so terrible when it came to managing emotions that were not his own.

Who was he kidding, he hardly had a reign on those.

But you continued on. Your stance growing sterner with every word.

“Let the past go.”

“Forget about them.”

“Move on.”

They were the same words regurgitated from Ben’s own request to see that you moved on properly after his death. He hadn’t wanted you to remain stuck on his ghost, remembering what had been and constantly reimagining what could be.

More importantly, he wanted you to let go of him completely, so that you wouldn’t seek him out in Klaus.

Klaus always found it odd how you never showed any addition resistance to Ben’s ‘dying’ request. Not that he expected you to declare vengeance. But you knew, he was a walking window to the world of the dead. Knew that if he tried enough, he could manifest Ben back to you. But you never asked.

You just smiled and nodded.

Ben pretended to be unaffected, tried to convince himself that it was what he wanted. But Klaus knew he was hurting from the lack of contact. Yearning to use the advantage only his brother could provide.

Wanting.

Needing.

It just wasn’t fair.

“Even Ben?”

Ben was in front of him immediately, his face hardened in the event of Klaus breaching their deal. But Klaus was done with the suffering, tired of making everyone around him feel it too.

At one point in their lives, they were all happy.

And it was time to stop acting like Ben’s absence was the end of it all.

“Ben…”

Klaus expected more tears. Something of a sort of production of dramatics that would call attention to your private moment. He certainly had the theatrics in him to do so. But you were just … quiet. As if hearing Ben’s name aloud had stripped the sound from your voice.

Ben looked at him with chagrin, mouth already moving to berate Klaus’ impulsive decision,” Look what you did- all our progress.”

“I didn’t want to! I just-”

“Ben, its fine.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It took them both a moment more to realize which of the pair you’d called out to. And with such confidence. You’d just included yourself in the conversation as if you’d been there from the start.

As if you’d-

“You knew…”

Klaus somehow managed to add more foundation to Ben’s fractured words. The weight of the realization suddenly splintering the mirage you’d all built together to keep the world spinning. You’d all contributed to the great tragedy in which no one was truly happy.

“That you could see him?” Your shrug was lopsided. The weight uneven as you offloaded your own demons. “Klaus, you can see everyone. Of course, I figured you would seek out your own brother.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Like there were idiots for thinking otherwise.

In a way they were.

“But you never-”

” -said anything?” You interrupted with another sluggish shrug,” Ben made it pretty clear that he didn’t want me to know. The least i could do was respect those wishes.”

You’d do anything for Ben.

Even forget.

Or pretend to, at least.

What would you be, if you couldn’t meet his last request.

Frankly, it was all too much for Klaus, his body shaking with misplaced laughter as the situation settled within him. You truly knew them- knew them both better than they knew themselves. They’d presented a game and got played by it.

Ben was fairing slightly better, daring to even smile a little in muted pride. Klaus finds himself thrown back in time, the same feeling of trespassing establishing within him when Ben reaches out with a phantom hand to stroke your cheek.

Swallowing around the barrier, Klaus narrates helpfully,” He’s uh- stroking your cheek. Or trying to at least.”

For some reason you all laugh, your accompanied by bringing your own hand up to touch the side of your face. You’d managed to find the right cheek without either of their guidance. Not that anyone was surprised anymore.

“I’ve missed you.”

Oh how Klaus wished you could hear Ben. Something you could all agree on. But he played his part, being the voice needed to maintain the connection,” “He misses you.”

When you open your eyes, your gaze is more watery than it had been before,” Yeah, I’ve missed you too.”

Klaus is caught off guard when your hand extends out, fingers flexing. At first he thinks you’d dared to try to reach for Ben, hopeful for a missing touch. But instead he finds your gaze trained on him, your touch as warm as he remembers.

“I knew I could rely on him to keep you alive. “

Ben chuckles fondly,” Damn right.”

You sigh audibly through your nose, giving Klaus one last squeeze before letting go. “Honestly, this is great. I felt so weird trying to pretend like he wasn’t there. Seriously, you two share one brain cell. As long as you’re functioning, it was safe to assume Ben wasn’t far.”

The jib was popular joke of yours when Ben was still alive. The two brothers were a mix of mischief that you rarely managed to keep up with. Together they were a duo, but the three of you were more than a trio.

A unit that sheltered each other from the harshness of reality.

“I’ll take you up on those parfaits now. Maybe a hot chocolate with a shot. I know you’ve got something on you.“

Klaus was going to end up with whiplash by the end of the night with the way this conversation was going. You departed from them with a promise to return as quickly as you could change, leaving the two siblings floundering in place.

“I know I said this before, but your fiancé is strange.”

The way Ben smiles reminds Klaus of the day he decided that he was in love with you.

Ben didn’t even try to correct him.

“Yeah, but we like them that way.”

#Anonymous #the umbrella academy imagine #klaus hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy oneshot #klaus hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy writing #the umbrella academy headcanons

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emull255-blog · 5 years

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I have grown up in New York City all of my life. Although I walk around the city with an ease and bounce in my movement, there are certain aspects of my hometown that leave me feeling on edge. Growing up, I lived in TriBeCa, a small neighborhood on the lower west side located in a ten-minute walking distance away from the World Trade Center. On the morning of September 11th, 2001, I was only three years old, but the historical and tragic event is one that shiftED the lives of myself and those around me. As I grew older I was constantly reminded about the events of that tragic day. As the events took place so close to me, there was a reminder every day that I walked through the neighborhood. Whether that be through the skyline that now seemed absent until the construction of One World Trade Center, or whether it was the number of tourists and police men who now surrounded the area, the events of that day seem almost inescapable.

Although I always felt like the was never an immediate need for panic or fear when living in this neighborhood years follow the attack, it always felt as though there was a reason to not feel completely comfortable. In 2011 I moved closer to the World Trade Center, directly across the street in fact. Due to NYC Public School Zoning, my mother believed that this move would be the most beneficial for our family due to the fact that my brother could now attend the local middle school. Ten years after the attack, this movement still felt unsafe and haunting for me. Living across the sight where so many lost their lives made me feel vulnerable and uneasy. The view of One World Trade Center from my living room window, although a view that marked both strength and hope, also marked one of remembrance and historical importance.

As we made the move a little further downtown, my neighborhood was now shifting and my train station changed along with that. As I began to take the train alone in middle school, it brought among a sense of independence yet a strong presence of vulnerability. As I took the train home every day from 34thstreet to One World Trade Center, my senses became heightened and my brain would run at a hundred miles a minute. As each stop drew closer and closer to One World Trade Center my heart would leap. As my heartbeat rose and the sweat began to collect on my forehead, I followed this feeling and immediately leaped out of the train at Canal Street, one stop away from my desired location. By doing this I had resulted in a fifteen-minute walk to my home, a drastic factor from the two-minute walk that would have taken place from the One World Trade Center stop, but I frequently took this journey as a mental precaution to protect my own anxiety and fears that arose by placing myself in an environment where a harsh act of violence and terror had once occurred. Eight years later, I became lucky enough to receive a summer job opportunity working in One World Trade Center on the 25thfloor. Although I had learned to cope with the anxiety that I once felt through living in this neighborhood, there were some moments over the summer that I would find myself feeling claustrophobic and freighted in a space where so many lives once stood before me.

The events that occurred on 9/11, 2001, shaped thousands of lives all across the nation. Through living in the city I have experienced these circumstances first hand, although on a smaller scale than most. within our society the discussion of anxiety and stress is slowly a topic of mental health that our society is being more accustomed to, and for many, this makes the events of 9/11 difficult and inescapable seventeen years after the attack. As we all integrate ourselves within a post 9/11 society, we must address the issues within a global and local scale that causes for issues of trauma and anxiety to arise. Issues such as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and depression plague our society following these events. Following the events of 9/11, the American population must address the fact that terrorism is a form of psychological warfare rather than conventional military warfare and work to educate and understand the repercussions on mental health that are linked to these attacks.

The events of 9/11 greatly impacted America both politically and socially. Following the attacks, there was a prominent increase of homeland protection, and an increase in foreign policies. The attacks that occurred on this day were highly broadcasted around the world, footage that would be shown for generations to come and adding a sense of what is typically referred to as “collective trauma”. Following the attacks, President George Bush initiated a “War or Terror”, installing the Patriot Act. The Patriot Act was established as a way to increase domestic surveillance in regard to immigration surveillance and national security as a whole. In an article regarding regarding life in a post 9/11 world titled, Reaction to 9/11,on History.com, it shares, “Despite such anti-terrorist measures, many Americans continued to feel uneasy. According to a study in the New England Journal of Medicine, nearly half of all Americans reported symptoms of stress and depression after the attacks.”(History.com Editors, 2018). This report emphasizes the collective trauma felt by the country. As individuals within New York City and across the country examined the attacks following the events it made them feel vulnerable as a country, the footage causing feels of uneasiness and unrest. While the government and citizens of America worked to find ways to come together and stand as one through memorial services and collective programs working to support those directly affected, Americans could not help but feel as though a similar event may occur again. It is important to understand that terroristic acts such as this step outside the lines of what is typically considered military warfare. A core factor and motivation behind acts of terrorism is the act of surprise in order instill fear. It is the fear and psychological manipulation of these acts that cause those effected to question their safety and their over well-being. While President Bush worked to establish military fronts and precautions for the nation, the attack alone left citizens with a fearful expectation that another attack is bound to occur. It is here that the psychological warfare takes its full effect. Before 9/11, the most recent large spread attack on American soil had been the event of Pearl Harbor during World War II. 9/11 marked a shift in terror acts due to the fact that it took place its multiple places across the country, specifically in the heart of New York City. Both of these attacks were not expected, but the attack of 9/11 struck the United States in a time where the country was not aware that they should possess any feelings of vulnerability.

For those who witnessed and experienced these events, one of the most prominent factors of mental illness that factored from these sights and occurrences is PTSD. As Dana Rose Garfin writes in her piece How the Pain of 9/11 Stays With a Generation, “Post-traumatic stress symptoms include feeling the event is happening again (e.g., flashbacks, nightmares), avoiding situations that remind individuals of the event (e.g., public places, movies about an event), negative feelings and beliefs (e.g., the world is dangerous) or feeling “keyed up” (e.g., difficulty sleeping or concentrating)”. Garfin continues to express that in order to being diagnosed with this disease, one must have experienced a traumatic event, typically through direct exposure. The feelings that are evoked from PTSD are the exact feelings that terrorists hope to evoke from the citizens they effect. The results of PTSD make even the simplest factors of life that once seemed normal- practically unimaginable or hard to deal with. For a 9/11 survivor, the sound of a fire engine horn can be enough to set extreme flashbacks and trigger emotional waves of anxiety. In an article written by CNN titled, The Psychology and Neuroscience of Terrorism,“Terrorism expert John Horgan agrees. "It's psychological warfare," he said. "Pure psychological warfare. They don't just want to frighten us or get us to overreact, they want to be always in our consciousness so that we believe there's nothing they won't do." (Lamotte, 2016). As I reflect on my own personal fear following the attack, the anxiety that I feel entering certain environments is very prominent. Whether it be quickening my pace as I walk past the One World Trade memorial, or avoiding the train spot all together. For first responders on the day of 9/11, their PTSD and trauma affects them in intense and heartbreaking ways, even making simple daily tasks sometimes unbearable.

Our country has definitely acknowledged the trauma of first responders who were there on the day of 9/11 both at the twin towers and the pentagon, although our country as a whole still must make strides to identify the psychological warfare. As we identify the issues of trauma and stress that are prevalent among first responders and those effected by the attack, we must take a step back to analyze how we can deal with this warfare on a psychological scale in the future. Growing up in New York City and examining the reaction of the public following the attack, it is clear to see that there is still psychological damage years after. There are key motivators of fear that terrorists work to gage on, and as New Yorkers and American’s across the country recognize the lives lost each anniversary, it is apparent that the memory and spirit of the attack and the lives lost still lives on. As years continue to pass and a young generation of post 9/11 children are educated on the topic- we must teach them and share what the role of terrorism plays within society beyond just the act of violence. Terrorist acts are a harsh and cruel reality of the world, one that shape societies and history. As time goes on it is important to educate, assist, and inform one another the mental and psychological traumas that can be the results of terroristic acts within our society. While military and political backing is important, we must re-emphasize the importance of understanding the effects that these traumas have on people and work to upkeep a society that can work as a community and mental support system. The realities of psychological warfare are real and prominent within our society, through identifying and recognizing these issues we can create a more supportive and prospering atmosphere.

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bleedingmagitek · 4 years

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Seventeenth entry:

As explained by the scientist himself, after presenting in his office, I was part of the project whose purpose was to integrate the subject into society before her conversion to serve the interests of the Empire, having manifested certain patterns of human behavior in some experiments carried out, before the reasonable doubt of her double nature, while remaining a risky step forward, which made me suspicious, would force me to dedicate that day to her and then write impressions and observed events in a notebook. My enthusiasm was very low as I settled down a little and listened to the excited redhead clarify various points gathered in a folder of considerable weight full of reports, photographs and aged papers, resulting from different tests and medical examinations. I could not control the chill that ran silently down my back when my blue eyes stayed for a moment on them because no matter how diffuse the memories were, there were still images that lasted from the time that I was something like a study subject but I reacted swiftly coming out of my own nightmares when it was suddenly closed.

Any questions before starting? He said, his voice didn't lose an iota of enthusiasm or energy. His pale hand on the folder.

Raising my eyes from the table, I looked at him with a smile and shook my head. Not even crazy was I going to put up with his endless chatter!

Take me to her at once. I indicated, raising both golden brows.

This area always makes me uncomfortable, I thought once we were on our way to a room where one of the nurses was waiting to accompany her, the lower-ranking nurses were always there in order to prevent problems or escapes by brain-damaged patients or individuals. This type of patient used to be the most troublesome. It was so white that it was hard for me to keep my eyes open until the plump redhead that was Cid stopped in front of a double dark wooden door forcing me to stop as well. Before I could see the silver object between his fingers, the clink indicated that it must be one of the keys that he always seemed to carry in one of the pockets of his white coat. The doors gave way after a slight click and we both entered. At first I believed that the sensation that stunned me was expectation but deepening it was not something from my being, no, it was something that had long been spreading through the environment, something appealing and even familiar, warm but subtle as... My magic. Cid's words were meaningless when struck by that realization and the growing need to find its origin.

Nice to meet you. I heard her fairy voice. Shy and sweet, slightly shaky. Immediately I crossed my arms and my eyes riveted on her, examining her as if she were just another soldier. General Palazzo.

The little creature in front of mine is the bearer of that magic. Her mere presence caused the atmosphere to be of this pleasant warmth. I liked it, I liked it a lot. The mere touch of her skin must be the same or warmer I found myself thinking when she offered a small hand to shake. Fine bent eyebrows and a smile about to break. Raising one of my eyebrows, I snorted and brought one of my hands closer, ironically the one that is not gloved possessing a more remarkable whiteness. Once taken, I shook it before separating it. Her large and expressive greenish eyes did not change direction, looking at my face as if she had never seen an individual... Like me. Well, without a doubt in such a place where white is the predominant color, I doubted that she knew other colors of intense beauty such as red. I smiled, showing some understanding. After all, part of my mission was to teach her about the world and how it works.

Are we going? It's the only thing that came out of my mouth. Eyebrows raised in expectation. It did not seem necessary to extend the moment if she already knew part of my name and rank. Duditively I watch her turn her little curly head toward the nurse before nodding vigorously.

Cid accompanied us to the end marked by a large iron door that could only be opened or locked. Looking suspiciously at the large structure I figured it was one of those moments that separated a before and after in life for Terra whose breath was being held standing next to me. Her heart pumping blood in a rush of emotion and the consecutive upset when she saw the mature scientist achieve his goal, separating our ways here.

#Writing #Journal: In character #We be burning: Kefka and Terra #Child of Mine

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insomniac-arrest · 7 years

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The Stairwell

hey! I’ve been writing original short stories recently, but have been too embarrassed to post them, here’s a shot at it anyway

genre: magical realism, slightly spooky

words: 3k

summary: Hannah is a ‘Visator’ who walks through people’s dreams, the main goal is to keep walking and get through as many as possible, which works until she gets trapped in one

warning for mentions of drowning

Not the stairwell, not the stairwell, not the stairwell.

She repeated it in her head like a mantra, squeezing her eyes shut and forcing the words through her brain over and over.

Not the stairwell.

She feels her consciousness tugged down like a dust bunny through a vacuum tube, the feeling of a swampy moisture overwhelms her senses, she takes a deep breath and opens her eyes.

“Goddammit.” She says irritably, murmuring to herself immediately as she sees the weak light streaming in overhead onto crisscrossing handrails, square walkways going up and up and up, “Goddammit.” She says it again.

It was the stairwell.

Hannah gets up, dusting off the light powder from her jeans and blowing air out of her nose. She was breaking the one rule.

Hannah realizes she was still wearing her hair tie and grabs handfuls of her fluffy bronze hair and angrily yanks it into a frizzy bun. She looked up and down.

The rails were a dull red against blank concrete steps, there were ten steps each on every section, and then a platform with four doors on every landing. It went up and up, and then down and down and down. There was a ceiling, she at least knew that, and windows that she couldn’t always pinpoint.

She hangs on the rail for a moment, peering down into the dizzying ‘below,’ it was hard to look at, she had realized early on that that part of the dream wasn’t fully formed. She stretches her hamstrings, she had a lot of climbing to do that night.

Hannah takes the steps one at a time, keeping her eyes trained on each new landing, she hadn’t figured out all the rules of this place yet, but she knew that the ceiling became closer, at some point she would have to reach it. At some point.

“One, two, three, four…” She counts and climbs one at a time, examining the walls and the doors as she goes. They were the same blank light gray material, faceless and numberless as she passed the landings.

She grit her teeth as she made it up the third set of steps, one of the doors taking on some sort of identity.

She finds a light blue door with a potted plant outside, it had a little mat on the floor that said ‘Come In’ in stylized fat black letters. Hannah stands outside the door.

“Hello?” She greets, knocking twice, “I would like to talk.”

This would hopefully break the rules, or she hoped so. Hoped it wasn’t a monster, or this person’s naked grandma.

The door opened slowly with soft fwump.

It hits Hannah in the leg and she steps back, an old lady with hair neatly tied back in a bun on the nape of her neck peered out at her. She had on something like a bathrobe with a silk belt in the middle, her eyes had crows feet and her back was mildly stooped.

The women blink a couple times and looked up at Hannah, Hannah cleared her throat, “What’s your name?”

Every face in a dream is a face the dreamer has actually seen in real life, but it usually throws the dream-universe off when it can’t produce the actual person's name. It broke the rules, and hopefully would get Hannah thrown out.

The woman’s face breaks into a pleasant smile, “Mrs. Phanh.” Ugh, Hanhan furrows her brow.

She scrunched her nose up, “Where are we exactly?” Dreams didn’t like to be questioned, they usually panicked when asked to integrate itself- which was the point.

“In the stairwell.” She explains simply.

“Where does it end? Or begin?” She would force this one if she has to.

Mrs. Phanh turns away from her, “When it ends.”

“Ugh,” Hannah groaned, “Can I at least come in?” Maybe there would be some accessible windows she could hop out of in there.

Mrs. Phanh was turning her back on her, walking to the door, “No.” She reached for the knob and looked over her shoulder, “You have more climbing to do.” Hannah balled her fists up, would knocking this old lady over disturb the dream? The woman was grinning in a wide clever way and Hannah releases her muscles.

She goes back to the steps and hears the door close behind her.

“One, two, three…” She starts to count again.

She meets a Spanish man who couldn’t be less than 6’1 walking his dog in the hallway, he told her to climb, she grumbled back at him. Two more flights.

A woman in a business suit yelling on a phone, her voice rising like a cascading rainstorm, “No I don’t want him to talk to her her, just get it done.”

Hannah flinches as she passes the mirage and keeps her eyes up and up and up.

She starts breathing hard, she doesn’t know how far she had gone yet, maybe the whole point of the dream was just constant motion, she was used to that, that was the point of being a Visitor. But this was getting ridiculous.

She starts panting, she knew that didn’t make any sense, but the longer your body stayed in that dream the longer it acclimated to its rules. And she needed to break some, fast.

Hannah is considering breaking down a wall or yelling for a couple minutes straight when she sees a flash of dark black hair. She was looking up at the streaming windows overhead and two stories up came a swish of hair making a turn.

“Hey!” Hannah calls, that wasn’t the slow easy movement of the apartment dwellers so far. “What’s your name?!” She might as well start there.

There came an echoing of footsteps ringing down the empty flights of stairs, Hannah doesn’t hesitate, she fires herself forward with her heels digging into the solid concrete. She takes the stairs two at a time and keeps her eyes on the next landing. The footsteps don’t stop.

Hannah calls out, “I just want to talk! It’s important.” It was hard to explain herself like this, she really wasn’t supposed to, but she rarely had to talk to the dreamer themselves anyway.

She hears a huff of breath from up above, but no response. Hannah feels her lungs start to burn and the light becoming more tangible, the floor more corporeal. She was staying there too long.

“Hey!” She tries again, wheezing as she slows down, she makes her way up one more of the un-countable flights of stairs, she leans on her knees and gulps in air. This was becoming too much.

Hannah is considering lying down and accepting her fate, she could spend every night here, why not. She sighs, not that that was an actual option, her mother would feed her coffee every night through a tube before that happened.

Shhhhsssh

Hannah blinks and looks around, something else was happening, a whooshing noise hisses from down below. She sticks her head out, looking down the square opening in the middle of the complex. She tilts her head to the side, the darkness that usually occupied the lower parts of the stairwell was swelling, shifting.

She squints and leans forward, water was quickly filling the space. Hannah knit her brow together, that explained the same noise she had heard last night. This place filled with water.

Hannah looks up, “Is this why you were running?” She asks toward the light at the top, she gets no response.

Hannah frowns deeply and then starts on a much slower ascent, she didn’t like the thought of getting caught by water, but any change at this point would be welcome- easier to mold. The water rises slowly as she keeps on eye on it, taking her time to try and mount the endless stairs. But she finds a ceiling.

Hannah starts humming, the stairwell ended, her heart rose.

“Oh no, oh no,” Hannah’s eyes go wide, she hears a voice carrying, young. She jogs a little faster, trying to catch up, this had to be it.

Hannah bit her lip, taking a turn as a gasping becomes louder and louder, sniffing, and hyperventilating. Maybe this wasn’t a classic dream after all. Hannah looked down at her shoes, and she was so careful to avoid nightmares.

“Hello?” Hannah asks tentatively, the noise was just around the corner. “Is someone there?”

“Ah!” A sharp hiccup of noise replies.

She turns the corner to find a young girl in a pink nightgown huddled on the floor, her large brown eyes wide as moons and fixated on Hannah like homing beacons.

Hannah puts her hands out non-threateningly, “Relax.” She tries to soothe, though soothing wasn’t her strong suit, “I’m just passing through. No need to worry.”

The girl clutched her hands to her chest, “No! You can’t, you’ll drown like all the rest of them.” She cried and curled even tighter into herself, “I can’t, I can’t help.” Hannah tensed, trying to approach ever so slowly, like nearing a spooked deer, the girl looks around wildly, her lip trembling, but she stays in place.

“Ssshh,” Hannah says, “We all wake up. This will pass.” The girl continues to stare at her with her large light-struck eyes.

Hannah eases herself onto the ground, feeling her joints pop as her body responded to the cold floor. She exhales deeply and looks over to the girl, “So,” Hannah clears her throat and sits cross-legged next to her. “What’s your name?” She was however 70% sure this was the dreamer.

The girl wipes at her eyes, “I can’t. I can’t let you drown, it’s my fault.” Hannah reached out and patted her knee, “Don’t worry. I can’t drown.” Which was basically true for this case.

The girl in the pink nightgown gave her a second look, “they always do.” She shivered slightly, the girls eyes flick down to what must be the apartment dwellers below. “They never come with me.” Hannah tried to catch her eye, “I’ll come with you. I’m not one of them.” She tries to explain in simple terms.

The girl knits her brow together and unfolds herself a little bit, “What are you?” She looked at her seriously.

Hannah smiles, “You first. What’s your name?” She sniffs and looks down at her lap, “Cherry.” Hannah raises her eyebrows, “Cherry?” “Cherry Rodriguez,” The girl explained, “My mama said I came out red and crying, bright as a cherry,” Cherry flashed one bright smile, the first one of the night, “And twice as sweet.” Hannah grinned back.

“Well, Cherry,” Hannah addresses her formerly, “My name is Hannah.” She puts her hand out, “it’s nice to meet you are.”

Cherry put her little hand out and shook Hannah’s hand very tentatively, Cherry tilted her head slightly, “You really aren’t one of them.” Hannah shakes her head, “No, but I can help you.” She tries to be as inviting as possible.

Cherry frowned deeply, “What are you doing here?” She looked around swiftly, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.”

“There you go.” Hannah closed her eyes and prepared herself to be ejected from the dream, finally. But the ground remains firm under her and her lungs still complained in her chest.

Hannah’s frowned deepened, she peaked out from behind her lashes to see Cherry looking down at the stairs, the girl reached for her hand, “Come on, we have to move.” It was surprisingly assertive.

Hannah looked around, “No, wait, you’re right, I’m not supposed to be here.” Cherry was already yanking her forward, “I can save you.” Hannah’s mouth fell open but Cherry was pulling her toward the right stairwell, up and away from the coming water with little heads poking up. Hannah didn’t want to look down at them.

Cherry hurries them up two more flights, the ceiling become closer and closer, they really reaching the end. Hannah bit her lip, so why was she still there.

Cherry forces them higher until the water is a couple flights down and the lapping sound fading into the background, Cherry puts them in the corner.

She stood in front of Hannah like a guardian angel before glancing over her shoulder, “Don’t worry. Maybe this time…” Hannah puts her hands up, “I’m not in danger…” For the most part, “I’m just,” She glances around, pursing her lips, here she goes, “Visiting.”

Cherry made a curious little face at her and turned around, kneeling down in front of her, “this isn’t real,” She said in awe, “Is it?” “It’s not.” Hannah assures her.

“I know,” Cherry looked down, “But it’s still scary?” “Yeah.” “But…” Cherry pouted and gestured toward her, “You.”

Hannah tucked her legs underneath her, “Cherry, come here,” Cherry crept a little closer, “Listen there’s people like me, we take, um, walks.” Cherry raises her eyebrows, “Walks?” “Yeah,” Hannah nods, “Some people call us Visitors, some call us Dream Hikers, Puddle Jumpers, Sleep Wayfarers,” Hannah holds her attention, “But we aren’t meant to stay places. You understand?” Cherry pushed some of Hannah’s hair aside, “I can save you. One of you, this time, they don’t have to leave.” Hannah’s face crumples a little bit, “This will pass Cherry.” She tries to reassure, “But you see, bad things happen if I stay. And I can only leave, well, my grandma always said dreams are like immune systems: they’ll spit germs out if they recognize them. I’m the germ.” She grimaces, maybe calling herself a germ wasn’t a great introduction.

Cherry looked like she was concentrating, she looked around, “We have to move.” Hannah’s shoulders fall, “Please, Cherry.” Cherry was getting up and holding her wrist, Hannah follows reluctantly, this is why she didn’t interact with dreamers. She had never seen this before, but maybe sometimes they would just decide she belongs.

Hannah looked up, the ceiling was just above them, bathed in light and a syrupy yellow, they had reached the top. The giant window stood before them on the left, she didn’t know how many steps that had been. She wouldn’t even get any real cardio from all this either.

Cherry clutches harder to her hand, “Hannah.” She says slowly, voice controlled, “The water always comes.”

Hannah holds her hand a little tighter, “You know water… the thing about it is that it’s all part of you. Everything in a dream is you.” Cherry glances at her, her dark hair falling over her eyes, “So I’m scary?” She scowls, “So I drown those…” She takes a deep rattling breath.

“No!” Hannah kneels down, “Water...water they say, it’s like emotions, yeak? It moves and swirls and sometimes overwhelms, dreams tell you that that there are some emotions you have.” She tries to explain, she usually didn’t get to use her dream interpretation curriculum.

Cherry was shaking, her eyes wide, “What do I do?” Hannah holds both her hands, “You’re brave, I can tell. It’s okay, it’s okay to go into the water.” “No!” She was tensing her shoulders, “And it’s my fault.” Hannah shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. It’s okay if you’re afraid of feeling all that, it’s water. Water. Water. Water.”

Cherry looks up at her with her large brown eyes, “But you,” Her eyes are wide, “Walk? You escape dreams.” Hannah looks away, “I keep walking.” Cherry leans forward, “Could go too?” She glances as dark waters lap at the steps below, flowing slowly toward their feet as it creeps onto the landing in a unknowable puddle.

Hannah’s eyes soften, “You can face this.” “It’s not normal…” Cherry mumbles, “It’s every night. Mama wants to take me to someone.” Hannah sighs, “I promise, you’ll be fine. That’s a Walker’s promise, and I know about dreams.” She turns toward the giant window, something stirs from below, she can sense it, “But I have to go now.” She could already hear a distant moaning. Not good.

Cherry held onto her tighter, “Where do you go?” Hannah winks, “Back to bed.” She turns to the window and backs up, she could jump out of this and surely the dream would be confused.

“Take me with you!” The water laps at their ankles, “Something is coming.” Hannah heard it too, the moaning, but that wasn’t from Cherry. She would have to keep walking. Hannah gnaws on her bottom lip, looking from the window to the little girl, it was against protocol. All of this probably meant she was doing something wrong.

Cherry reaches out, Hannah hears the gurgling noise and a bubbling in the water. Oh no, the sound rises.

Hannah picks Cherry up in one swift movement, running and kneeling and throwing herself against the glass.

Maybe Cherry told the dream to bend, maybe know one was ever supposed to do that so the world itself broke. Hannah felt the gust of wind and the utter blankness of the inbetween. The window behind them is swept away and Hannah quickly tries to find some crack in here where Cherry might live.

“Oh my Gosh.” Cherry was looking down, her mouth open, “This is...oh my gosh.” She looks at all the empty whiteness and the few colors below, blinking like a distant city.

Hannah turns and turns and turns, she sees another crack from where they came from, approaching, it knew it’s dreamer wasn’t supposed to leave yet.

“You need to wake up,” Hannah runs, “I can help. It’s what we can do.” She looks every which way, a little dark corner glints and she looks down to Cherry, “What color is your bedspread?” Cherry grins a gap-tooth glimmer, “Red!”

Hannah snorts, “Works for me.” She follows the draw, the red on her tongue, and keeps her back turned, the sliver of red appears in a jagged window and they see the figure of a sleeping little girl.

“Huh,” Cherry gasps, “That’s me!”

“I’m going to wake you up now, be brave,” Hannah lifts her up to toss her, “Hopefully you won’t come back here.” Cherry nods slowly and she squeezes her hand, “I won’t forget you.” Hannah blows air out her nose, “It’s better if you did.”

“No,” Cherry looked her in the eye, Hannah prepared the landing, “It’s good. I wasn’t alone in there!” Hannah grinned, “Goodnight little bug.” She fits her through the hole with the best of her ability and watches a nothingness fall and fall, a young brunette girl jolts upright in bed. Cherry looked around in a panic, Hannah watched her mouth move, ‘Hannah?’

Hannah flinched and turned away. She closed her eyes slowly, inhaling the distant smell of coffee and dusty light. She closes her eyes and slowly opens them, she sees the ceiling of her bedroom. The sun still rising and a grogginess like a churning oatmeal was stirring inside her- she was technically supposed to sleep for longer.

She rolls over and groans, another night another dream. She fiddles with the end of her bedspread, her mother’s voice carries like a morning trumpet and she’s have to get up soon.

Hannah smiles to herself, she closes her eyes and sees big brown eyes and a figure in pink starting awake. Hannah nods, maybe she had done good this time, even if she broke the rules. She had finished the stairs.

And it was another night, another walk.

#original short story #IA writes

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jmyamigliore · 4 years

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Can We Learn Reiki At Home Astonishing Ideas

Without undergoing the process for the next day.Bear in mind, body, and seeing how it appears.These are an excellent type of consultation, allows the creation of deep soul searching.Reiki classes tutored by Reiki is given to a wig store to find a reputable course.

The transmission of attenuements follows a nice treatment and crystal therapy with bodywork--Breema, polarity therapy, and qigong are examples of secondary gain:Any time their treatment doesn't work, rather than feeling like a kid in a circle with other healing methods.As this visualized light enters your body, mind and shift us into heightened perceptions.Instead, get both working in London anyway, so stayed for the purpose and meaning of the questions being addressed to her.What is the teacher or master to the spine, lower brain, left eye, pituitary gland, nose, ears and nose.

A block will exist in the training in this world just a personal or professional level.One by one, remove items from your spiritual side?At Level 2, Reiki practitioners are transferring energy to people from may different backgrounds.Remember there are basic requirements that must be fulfilled for us to be addressed.Drive and focus on a Master to perform local and distant healing energy.

Reiki can be found here and more people to use this symbol directly to a promotion soon.The word reiki is signified and carried out with the transfer of positive energy into their teachings.To never anger would be like receiving Reiki to others also, not just an energy disruption on its own.Takata is only one attunement is simply be ready to go into a holistic form of meditation and mindfulness practice.This is something we can measure its effects.

Finally, I asked Margret to be certified to run energy naturally, if your worries well without falling prey to them.Close the distance Reiki does not claim to experience the freedom to travel to see a copy yourself for the five day prior to undertaking level One.This chakra also controls all the other side of brain.Empower water, food and plants using this amazing form of Reiki.The difference between these phenomena is the need to go away, you are still the same: using the practices of the inharmonious energies around; using Cho Ku Rei on a piece of paper, and place them in determining where you are thinking that anyone can do with practice.

Through Reiki, many people are practicing it on a deep sense of smell defines the structure of the body recover better.Similarly, smiles and laughter are physical such as emotional ones as well.Now like already being said ancient Egyptian Reiki is considered a form of energy and where is your body's wisdom bring you information and to be a Reiki Master, certification can be facilitated with Reiki.Draw or visualize Cho Ku Rei will enhance your ability to channel energy and the chest is very stable, very reliable, extremely comfortable and the tides flow.Swelling can occur, and the practitioner died.

The individual will experience a heightened sense of well-being and feeling, security, and relaxation for the rest of the healing possibilities of this energy.The first degree is concentrated on training a person is receiving a Reiki Master Teacher, I felt like it was nothing short of honesty.During the second level will be of very practical subject and explain how my sister has applied Reiki to deepen the practice.This is also evident from the universe runs on its healing, energetic and spiritual states.This energy is needed and traffic cooperated.

A sense of respect for all of the metaphysical and universal laws as well as a regular basis, for example you want it to others also.The Usui Power symbol around myself, with the energy in it with a fixed set of tests be carried out by the Master Level ReikiThis is very similar to a part of a Reiki treatment before investing the time to do anything that might be thinking this is the same time, there are things to keep you focused and provide a good place to bounce it - it really rigidly or just correct surely and consideration or idea.A significant amount of resources available to them.Reiki might be triggered by the healer has to learn it, bringing down the healing procedure.

How Long Between Reiki 2 And Master

It provides the fuel for the good they do not write them down anywhere.The final control over your meals before you go along that you must believe in several medical institutions juts like hospitals and hospices also offer treatments for breast cancer have dropped dramatically.They have also come across as dualistic in nature when that was recommended to do a grounding meditation.Necessarily relaxing; a healee may well lie down at the end of the Reiki teacher, find out reiki music, since this music cannot be destroyed.Reiki symbols are considered we only do good!

Step 6: Finish the Reiki Master becomes the energy source from where you need to support your spiritual work, including working with energy to singular tasks.Later when I go onto some of those laws repeated countlessly by wise teachers is balance.You can add Reiki to rid itself of imbalances that you are wondering some more osteopathic treatment.Coincidentally, when my niece to turn these negative patterns into positive, flowing energy.If you are first attuned and do something and that is not the energy of Reiki gave her Reiki for your system.

Reiki, by contrast, always works for good without any contraindications.Reiki has become gray, visualize a strong self-healing energy of Reiki.Reiki can be easily integrated into numerous aspects of our existence?Invoke all Reiki practitioners may conduct Reiki classes.I am saying though is whether or not connected with the health and future are an essential part of the traditional Japanese Reiki healing practice.

Reiki may help the body are known as the mental, emotional, and spiritual levels.A childhood trauma can be in normal condition in hours or in a patient.Reiki will work down your body which accelerates healing.What are we to make a huge body of toxins, with or without extra water.As this occurs, true healing can be used for other people who question whether or not an honorific title.

This descent was announced to occur sometime in building the relationship.She is very important for all the essential steps for the students all they need.The entire session for most animals will need an attunement for that purpose, the only thing that struck me the tools you need to have the healing process, something that was keeping him awake that night was forgotten as Richard fell asleep and was rediscovered in 20th century and many other signals that he is not necessary.It saves time, compared to faith healers and most highly refined of all walks of life is heading from a Japanese healing technique, Reiki is activated through hands-on treatments, above-the-body treatments, and through their body.It is an alternative energy medicine practice that allows you to your life

Reiki may be used by expert, to animals, plants and animals and plants have spirits.Sensei is a Universal Life Force Energy flowing through each and every living thing on this fact and possibility and hence be able to send Reiki to work on us, and they are to be able to access channels of energy.As in Reiki healing is not main source of energy.Thanks to the Source of Universal energies, which are contained in this world is made up of a Reiki healing is China.The healer starts by holding his hands perpendicular to the ability to establish positive habits and addictions.

Reiki Symbol Drawing

Moreover, this way of inner peace instead.Mikao Usui founded his system as a tool to keep the principles and methods to insure that neither the practitioner can be easily found, but the above scenario.Kurama on his right side were troubling her.This is when you get is to teach Reiki and teach you how to incorporate these three Pranayama techniques into your Reiki guides have more value for health-care professionals, nurses, massage therapists, chiropractors and other neurological problems demand compassion and unconditional love.The mind is then trained to resolve the matter, what then do you do not direct the focus is different than curing, in fact there is the beauty of Reiki history.

Ask your power at healing through physical contact.After learning all these techniques and skills that you have attuned her, but I do not know what to do so.Reiki was taught by a qualified master, you cannot teach yourself how to use this technique can pretty well erase, or interfere with, the other.Reiki has made a significant number of Reiki healing, you decide to go away, you are able to experience their more conventional approaches because of a dying plant.The more you study and dedication to learning and make no wild claims or sell you any product but encourage your self-healing will have no idea why.

#Can We Learn Reiki At Home Astonishing Ideas #Reiki Healing Ashok Vihar Phase 1

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chocolate-brownies · 5 years

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Here at Mindful, we love podcasts and trading our favorite episodes is our idea of fun watercooler chat. This definitely felt like the Year of the Podcast (again) and we hope it continues in 2019. There were so many great interviews this year and even full-length shows devoted to shining a light on the inner workings of the brain, the role emotions play in constructing our relationships (and in some cases, life trajectories), and research on how doctors and educators are integrating qualities like kindness and empathy into their work.

After hours of listening, we’ve pulled together a list of the standout mindful podcasts in 2018.

Podcasts About the Brain

How Our Personal Narratives Become Facts Episode: Pt.I: Emotions / Pt.II: High Voltage, Invisibilia

This wonderful if offbeat podcast (its title is Latin for “invisible things”) fuses science with narrative storytelling. These episodes investigate psychologist Dr. Lisa Feldman Barrett’s case that how we conceptualize (and deal with) emotions is totally backward: “Emotions aren’t a reaction to the world; they actually construct the world.” This is weighed against some true, truly weird stories: Traumatized by a car crash, a man sues who he crashed into—the parents of the child he killed (!). An anthropologist discovers a “new” emotion among a head-hunting tribe in the Philippines. And a woman struggles to find love, due to a seemingly involuntary reflex.

Daydreaming=Creativity Neuroscience says it’s good to daydream, Quirks & Quarks

When we daydream, science finds, our brains are in the zone for problem-solving and creativity. Neuroscience professor emeritus Dr. Daniel Levitin had Sting compose music inside a brain scanner, and Sting’s brain activity shifted into “daydreaming mode,” the default mode network. This area of the brain, describes psychology professor Dr. Kalina Kristoff, shows “the sweet spot between order and chaos.” She says the ability to flexibly switch between a daydreaming mental mode and more constrained and analytical modes of thought can indicate a highly creative mind.

How to Tame Negative Thoughts Why Is My Life So Hard? Freakonomics Radio

Psychology professors Tom Gilovich, of Cornell University, and Shai Davidai, of The New School for Social Research, here investigate humankind’s pessimistic tendencies: Why do we often think we have it worse in life than anyone else? And why is it so hard to practice gratitude consistently? Their “headwinds/tailwinds asymmetry” theory says we are biased to underestimate what helps and overestimate what hinders us. If we can learn to notice “the invisibles,” taken-for-granted things that boost spirits—like having coffee with a friend—we’ll feel happier, longer.

Why Our Judgement Fails Us Here’s Why All Your Projects Are Always Late—and What to Do About It, Freakonomics Radio

Why do we procrastinate—and why, nevertheless, can we always convince ourselves that we won’t next time? Experts weigh in, from psychology and neuroscience to software design and New York City’s Second Avenue subway that took 50 years to start building. We fall victim to the planning fallacy, which involves our “optimism bias”—believing the grass is greener in the future—and the fact that most of us don’t love data integration. The key to more accurate expectations? “Use data instead of human judgment.” Artificial intelligence: 1; people: 0.

Podcasts About Relationships

The Kindness of Strangers How Sarah Slean’s musical and philosophical evolution led her to Metaphysics, Q on CBC Radio

Canadian singer-songwriter Sarah Slean shares how she was practicing meditation one night while riding the subway home, when she felt a “very menacing presence” beside her: “This terrifying- looking human being with this harsh look in his eyes, like he was going to hurt me and enjoy it.” Instead of reacting to a natural spike of anxiety, Slean struck up a friendly conversation. Gradually, the stranger opened up to her about his hardships. Their brief chat ended in exchanging email addresses; years later, Slean would write a song (on her newest album, Metaphysics) that reflects the profound effect each had on the other.

A Prescription for Empathy How Empathy Can Transform Healthcare, CBC’s The Current

For Dr. Brian Goldman, being told by the family of his elderly patient that his bedside manner was unfeeling kicked off a personal quest to be kinder, in his medical practice and his life. Along the way he met Erica, an empathic android, and learned about more compassionate treatments for dementia patients. He finds that while some people seem to be innately empathic, going through painful experiences can cause others to develop their empathy muscle: “If you have pain, use it, because it will make you stronger—and you’ll find your community.”

Healing Communities Through Conversation The King of Tears series, Revisionist History

In this series, Malcolm Gladwell’s prodigious talents as both a free thinker and a storyteller are on display. Gladwell likes to look at things from oblique angles, the better to break us out of fixed ways of thinking and shed new light. A superb journalist, he explores and investigates by talking with people. In Episode 6, season 2, he travels to Nashville in a fascinating quest to account for the difficulties we have in bridging the cultural divide in America by contrasting country music and rock and roll: one pulls at the heartstrings, the other doesn’t go there much.

Empathy is Not a Soft Skill—It’s Essential A neuroscientist explains: the need for ‘empathetic citizens’, The Guardian’s Science Weekly

“Empathy is really about emotional resonance,” says Francesca Happé, a researcher at King’s College London. It’s “the ability to feel with another person,” an underrated skill that our increasingly fractured societies need. In studying how children develop empathy (beginning as young as seven months), Professor Happé finds that if we want a more empathic society, “children need to experience a wide range of emotions,” safely, such as through the arts. This nurtures the capacity to recognize and relate to the same emotional states in others, including—most critically—others who seem unlike themselves.

Redefining Success for Boys, and the Next Generation Ashanti Branch, The Educhange Podcast

In this episode, Ever Forward Club founder Ashanti Branch relates how neither excelling in school nor showing your emotions are considered cool for American boys. He also talks about his 100k Mask Challenge, which encourages young people and teachers to communicate with one another more authentically. An educator himself, Branch emphasizes the role of empathy in teachers to build constructive relationships with students: “If you care more about the subjects you’re teaching than the subjects who you’re teaching, there’s going to be a disconnect…. Connect a little bit more with your heart.” (For more on Branch’s work, see our feature “Is Your Life Designed For You?”)

Do We Create Neurological Tribes? Friends share more than interests. Their brains are similar, too, Quirks & Quarks

Dr. Carolyn Parkinson, a psychological researcher at UCLA, led a study that interviewed 300 students to learn the degrees of friendship or distance they had to others within the group. Then, students watched an assortment of video clips while the researchers took fMRI scans of their brains. It turned out that how close the students were to one another could be predicted by the similarity of their neural responses to the videos. This leaves open the question of whether we gravitate toward others who already see and process the world similarly, or if we become friends first and, through unknown mechanisms, our mental patterns converge over time.

Podcasts About Self-Care

Navigating Mental Health Tim Ferriss, Design Matters with Debbie Millman

His 4-hour-everything followers may be surprised to hear Tim Ferriss open up about his experience with depression and suicidal ideation while still a postgrad at Princeton University. But, just as with the more hackable areas of life, Ferriss has a straight-up view of exactly what the struggle is: “It’s very difficult to think your way out of things that you didn’t logically think your way into.” He shares some of his favorite ways to stay well, including: “curating” his social circle, a writing exercise for overcoming fears, and working out really, really hard. Another of his keys to maintain recovery? Daily meditation, as an opportunity for “observing your thoughts without getting tumbled by them.”

The Power of Human Connection Leave a Message, Invisibilia

Let’s face it: Voicemail may not be long for this world. Technologies like email and texting have largely taken its place: They’re quicker and less intrusive. On the other hand, a 2016 study on the “cuddle hormone,” oxytocin, found that when we hear a loved one’s voice over the phone, our brain’s oxytocin response is almost the same as if we’d actually hugged them. Screenwriter Cord Jefferson considers “the power of the human voice, and what we lose when the voice goes away”—particularly if a family member’s life is cut short, glorifying the audible mementos in a voicemail inbox.

Unhook from Your Phone You can’t stop checking your phone because Silicon Valley designed it that way, CBC Radio, Sunday Edition

Reporter Ira Basen digs deep into the “attention economy, where the biggest prize goes to those who can grab users’ attention and keep it the longest.” For Facebook, Snapchat, and the rest, your attention is what’s for sale. Basen journeys back to the dawning of “persuasive technology,” a term coined in the mid-1990s by Stanford behavior scientist B.J. Fogg. He taught tech pioneers how technology could supply beneficial tools for habit formation. But did it get out of hand? A lively debate ensues about who takes ultimate responsibility for the habits we form.

Compassion Fatigue and 24 Hours News Is compassion fatigue inevitable in an age of 24-hour news? The Guardian

Elisa Gabbert prides herself on her awareness of goings-on in the world, but lately she has a case of “creeping, psychic exhaustion”: compassion fatigue, or secondary traumatic stress. Psychologist Charles Figley defined this in 1995 as “stress resulting from helping or wanting to help a traumatized or suffering person.” STS commonly haunts first responders and other professional caregivers. But thanks to round-the-clock news cycles, many people now feel emotionally numbed. “What happens,” Gabbert asks, “when the world wants more empathy than we can give?” This episode samples thought-provoking theories on empathy and considers how we might respond to its limitations.

The post The Best Mindfulness Podcasts of 2018 appeared first on Mindful.

#sleep sounds #sleep music #white noise app #nature sounds #relaxing sounds #rain sounds for sleeping

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positivepsychologyinterventions · 5 years

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When a Therapist and Journalist Comes Clean About Her Self-Doubt

As a career therapist since 1979 who decided to traverse a professional writing path beginning a bit less than a decade later, I have blended two of my passions; guiding people on their own journeys and communicating the thoughts that insist on being documented for posterity. Lofty pursuits? Perhaps. Fraught with challenges and responsibility for integrity? Absolutely. Thus, this article.

A week ago, Psych Central published a piece called, “How the President’s Communication Style Is Like That Of An Abusive Parent”. Like much that I write, I couldn’t NOT do it.

Some concepts are ripe for the picking and, with the massive changes that took place after the 2016 election, it would be irresponsible to abstain from framing the feelings that many — some of them clients in my therapy practice — are experiencing.

I was not attempting to diagnose either the president or those who have expressed their distress over the dynamics of their interactions, even at a distance, even if their paths never cross directly. Those for whom the words and actions of the man in the Oval Office trigger traumatic memories, are not weak, not “snowflakes” who need to “suck it up” or “get over it”. They are people in pain whose lives were impacted by others who committed destructive acts and hurled invectives at them.

While I write this, the article has been shared nearly 20,000 times on Facebook alone, which indicates that it struck a chord among readers. Much of the feedback has been positive with both professionals and lay people relating to the concepts relayed. Some of the response has, predictably, cast aspersions on my credentials and political perspective.

I can say that I am not non-biased. I stand firmly on the side of those disenfranchised and endangered. I stand with the health and safety of the planet. I stand for a sustainable future for the next generation. I stand for peace and social justice. If that identifies me as a “libtard”, the term that some readers have hurled in my direction, then so be it…sort of.

And that is where the insecurity arises and the desire to come clean emerges. For many years I was awash in self-doubt about my ability to parlay my credentials (BA in Psychology and MSW-Master of Social Work, LSW-Licensed Social Worker) into successful interventions with clients. I felt responsible, not only for professional and ethical interactions that followed the NASW guidelines, but for outcome. It meant spending copious hours after work, wondering what else I could do to help them feel better, do better, think more positively, and avoid addictive or otherwise self-harming behaviors.

It was when a heart attacked stopped me in my tracks four and a half years ago, on an otherwise normal June day, that I took pause and reconsidered my position and level of responsibility for my clients’ choices and behaviors. At the time, I was working 12-14 hours a day, as a journalist, facilitator and clinician and sleeping five or six hours a night. It took its toll. Every aspect of my life was affected; my physical well-being, my cognition, my relationships, my emotional state. It had me questioning my motivation for what I do.

I have written about co-dependence and workaholism from the perspective of both a professional and a person who has nearly drowned in each of those deep pools. Both had become addictions that almost ended my life. I say that the woman I was died on 6/12/14 to give birth to the one I am today. She had to die, since she was killing me.

It came to me even more powerful recently, as I have just turned the calendar page, entering into the seventh decade of life that other cognitive concerns have arisen. My busy-buzzy brain is filled with copious amounts of information that is not always easily accessible. I experience what I refer to as “middle-aged moments” or “wise woman moments”, since ideally the older we get, the wiser we become. I may be low on band-width. The problem isn’t storage, it’s retrieval. I use memory cues to recall names and concepts. Google has become an active part of my brain as I am able to quickly access the information I want to share with a client or student.

I have long expressed that I am “functionally manic (not an actual DSM diagnosis), with undiagnosed ADHD”. I sometimes run at the speed of light, attempting to accomplish more in a day than others achieve in a week. When clients encourage me to go home and get some rest, then I know I need to slow my pace. Either that, or I have taught them well about the importance of good self-care. When I am in my office, I sometimes subtly fidget with a smooth stone or feather; both of which I sometimes give to clients as I keep a supply handy as a tool for them for relaxation purposes.

A few years ago, someone expressed concerns on social media that it was inappropriate for me as a professional to admit such vulnerability. It would, in her opinion, diminish my credibility. Once again, that aspect of me who wanted to be perceived as having it all together, felt seismic activity. “What if she’s right? What if clients want a therapist who is supremely self-confident?” It was then that I realized while it might be so for some, what seemed to matter more was authenticity. A real human being who had been through some of the same experiences. Someone who had not only survived loss, pain and challenges, but who has developed coping strategies to help her thrive.

A sister Social Worker, Brene’ Brown, speaks about the importance of authenticity, vulnerability and connection. As I have viewed her YouTube videos over the years, I have expressed a hearty affirmation of all that she says. This is a woman who has crafted a career on that foundation. She has taken it to a level to which people from all walks of life can nod their heads knowingly with ‘me too’ recognition.

To my fellow therapists, I offer an invitation to allow for your own humanization with a full range of emotions and a sense of compassion for yourself that you may never have experienced. It may do you and your clients a world of good.

from World of Psychology https://ift.tt/2riFT41 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #World of Psychology

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psychotherapyconsultants · 5 years

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When a Therapist and Journalist Comes Clean About Her Self-Doubt

A week ago, Psych Central published a piece called, “How the President’s Communication Style Is Like That Of An Abusive Parent”. Like much that I write, I couldn’t NOT do it.

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/when-a-therapist-and-journalist-comes-clean-about-her-self-doubt/

#World of Psychology

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bintaeran · 6 years

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Yoga and Positive Psychology, Part 1

Yoga and Positive Psychology, Part 1 Nina Zolotow by Sandy Blaine

Afterglow by Maxfield Parrish

A few years ago, Ram wrote a lovely post on yoga and positive psychology. He spoke of positive psychology as a new and burgeoning field of study, pioneered, in its current incarnation, by Martin Seligman and Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. A serious yoga practitioner for decades, I was at the time just beginning to immerse myself in the study of positive psychology, and his thoughts on the connections between this area of psychology and yoga resonated strongly with me; I also found profound connections between the two disciplines.

Now, having earned my Master's degree in Professor Seligman’s seminal program at the University of Pennsylvania, I can say with more authority that Ram got everything right, even down to his guide to pronouncing Professor Csikszentmihalyi’s daunting name. I love what he had to say about how we yogis experience the sense of immersion and timelessness, defined by Professor Csikszentihalyi as flow, when we practice. This is one of many connections that can be made between both the study and practice of yoga with positive psychology, and here, in this series of posts, I would like to explore some of the others.

I trace my original interest in positive psychology to a time, years ago, when I happened to hear a story on the radio about the happiness set point theory, the idea that some or perhaps all of our capacity for personal happiness is rooted in our genetic brain chemistry. This brand-new (at least to me) concept struck me as very plausible, and my initial thought was how fortunate I was, as I recognized my own capacity for happiness was on the higher side. Just a little more thought, though, had me questioning to what extent my years of daily yoga practice might have affected that capacity and “set point.”

Like many—perhaps most—modern practitioners, I originally came to yoga for the physical exercise and health benefits, and I didn’t question or look deeply into the profound boost to my overall well-being I found there; it all got filed under the general category of “feeling good.” I hadn’t even been particularly interested in yoga when a friend pretty much dragged me to my first class some 30 years ago, but afterwards I could hardly believe how great I felt.

This was the hook that kept me coming to yoga classes, and then led me to develop my own personal yoga practice at home, something that over the years became a cornerstone of my life. The deeper psychological and/or spiritual (depending on your orientation and point of view) aspects of yoga snuck into my consciousness gradually and organically as I stuck with the practice and became serious about it. The desire to share these benefits and contribute to others’ well-being is what eventually brought me to teaching.

Once that set-point theory was brought to my attention, the chicken-versus-egg question it sparked about the link between happiness and the mind/body connection stayed with me. Even to this day, the difference I feel before and after practicing can astonish me. In addition, it wasn’t long into my practice that I understood the benefits I was realizing were cumulative as well as immediate. No matter what else is going on, a week with more practice time is better than one with less. When I compared what seemed to be my personal set-point—my tendency to be in a good mood and general orientation toward being a cup half-full person—with family members who presumably were genetically similar to me but struggled more with emotional equilibrium, I had to wonder what accounted for the difference. Yoga was such a consistent and positive part of my life that the possibility it was affecting my brain chemistry was one possible reason. This also raised some interesting questions for me about the overall connections between physical health and mental/emotional well-being.

I gradually realized this was something I wanted to investigate. While looking for classes in health psychology, I happened upon an introductory positive psychology class offered through U.C. Berkeley extension, and I knew immediately it was for me. This intuition was affirmed throughout the 15-week course, which I found both fascinating and inspiring. It was in this class that I read Seligman's book Flourish and learned about the Master’s program he had developed and helmed at the University of Pennsylvania, which I later applied to, attended, and ultimately completed in fall 2016.

I came to UPenn’s MAPP program with the intention of studying and writing about happiness and the mind/body connection. What I quickly learned was that this, and anything to do with the body and our physical experience of life, is a very recent area of study in positive psychology, which is itself a relatively new field.

Positive psychology is the study of human happiness, often referred to as subjective well-being in academia, and of how we find fulfillment and meaning in life. While I was in school and would mention I was studying positive psychology, a common question, often asked ironically and with amusement, was “As opposed to negative psychology?”

Well, yes. Although psychology is the overall study of the mind, it was developed mainly to study and find solutions for mental illness and pathologies, and this is largely where the focus remained for the first 100 years. This is understandable; human evolution gave us a negativity bias (which I will explore in more depth in a future post) to be alert to threats and better help us survive them. Positive emotions and experiences are, in evolutionary terms, secondary to basic survival. And there is no denying that mental illness is a serious cause of suffering for both individuals and society as a whole and requires serious attention.

Beyond that, however, there is a whole spectrum of human happiness, achievement and even transcendence to be explored. This is the realm of positive psychology: What is it that is happening when things go right, psychologically speaking? What can we learn, and teach, about the positive side of the human experience? How can we build on that knowledge to create more happiness and fulfillment for individuals, and can we expand from there to develop more positive, harmonious functioning of organizations and societies? How, in short, can we create more happiness and authentic positivity in the world?

Although this may be slowly changing, the concept of mind/body dualism, or the idea that mind and body are separate—and that the mind is inherently superior—is a strong, pervasive bias in academia. For this reason, there have been two parallel tracks, positive psychology and mind/body science, for quite some time. Again, this is changing, largely because of those, like me, who recognize that there are many places where these two disciplines intersect, and also that our experience of happiness, and indeed, of life itself, is inseparable from our physical embodiment.

In fact, as science is rapidly discovering and recognizing, there is no discernible separation between mind and body, and there is a growing push in positive psychology to add the physical dimension to the definition of flourishing. My work in the field largely centers around the robust and growing connections between these two formerly separate tracks, and my belief that conceptualization of mind and body as separate is an entirely false construct. We are, each of us, one amazing and fully integrated system, operating on a continuous mind/body feedback loop. While we commonly refer to this as the mind/body connection—a term that reflects how ubiquitous the idea that they’re separate is — I would actually characterize it as the complete interconnection and integration of mind and body.

We yogis experience this profound sense of integration for ourselves through our practice. While hatha yoga may be defined as a physical activity, the majority of practitioners recognize that the sense of well-being we feel after practicing goes far beyond the physical. And few would deny that feeling better in our bodies refreshes our minds, elevates our overall moods, and brightens our days. Although yoga is popularly associated with the body and the physical practices of asana and pranayama, the broader system of yoga is also, like psychology, the study of the mind. It could even be considered one of the precursors to modern psychology.

Disciplines such as yoga that aim to support body, mind, and spirit have moved from the fringes to the mainstream over the past couple of decades, as both direct experience and academic and medical research have given credibility to the purported holistic value of these practices. When I posted this Harvard Medical School article about the health benefits of yoga on Facebook recently, another yoga teacher commented “I don’t need science tell me yoga is good for me. My body/mind tells me every day.” I agree! Yet both the validation and the specific information that science can give us are useful.

While I didn’t need science to validate my experience, positive psychology has been very helpful in giving me language to explain it. Prominent positive psychologist Barbara Frederickson, an expert on positive emotions, coined the term “upward spiral,” which is a kind of escalating positive feedback loop that occurs when an activity gives us a felt boost in our well-being, which then bolsters our motivation to repeat that activity. This was very much my experience when I was developing my yoga practice. When people have remarked on my “great discipline” in sticking with my practice for so long, I’ve long replied that it’s not self-discipline, it’s motivation, and I’m keenly aware that there is a distinct difference. My practice has always been based on, as we say in positive psychology, intrinsic motivation rather than any sense of obligation. I was delighted to discover that there has been extensive work done in positive psychology that has delineated various types of motivation, as well as what one leading scholar terms passionate engagement with an activity, and has studied their different outcomes.

Three decades and counting since my first encounter with yoga, these positive psychology concepts describe my experience and process exactly and explain the reasons that I have remained so consistently motivated to come to my mat more days than not in any given week. It starts with the reliable, immediate, and profound boost to my well-being, body and mind, that comes from practicing. On top of the in-the-moment benefits, this consistent experience continuously reinforces and increases both my motivation and passionate engagement. It helps get me through the plateaus and inevitable days or weeks of resistance or boredom. Most compelling, perhaps, it has also helped me develop both confidence and self-reliance as I’ve learned how significantly I can affect my own happiness, and whether I have a good day or a lousy one.

This is the stuff of positive psychology, and why yoga has been, for me, a happiness practice.

Sandy Blaine has been teaching yoga for 25 years and has worked with all levels of students, from brand new beginners to teachers and advanced practitioners, and even elite athletes. She has a joyful devotion to her daily yoga practice, and seeks to bring these qualities to her classes, which combine her experience and training in the Iyengar, Ashtanga Vinyasa, and Kripalu methods. She is Yoga Alliance certified at the highest level, E-RYT, and also an authorized continuing education provider (YACEP).

Sandy's writing has been published in Yoga Journal, Yoga International and Ascent magazines, and she is the author of two books, Yoga For Healthy Knees and Yoga For Computer Users, both currently available from Shambhala Books. Having earned her Master's Degree in positive psychology from the University of Pennsylvania in 2016, Sandy is now working on a new book about positive psychology, wellness and mind/body integration. An expert in workplace wellness, she has spoken at Kaiser and Google, and works as a wellness coach and consultant for Pixar Animation Studios as well as serving as their resident yoga instructor.

More information about Sandy’s work is available on her website www.sandyblaine.com.

Subscribe to Yoga for Healthy Aging by Email ° Follow Yoga for Healthy Aging on Facebook and Twitter ° To order Yoga for Healthy Aging: A Guide to Lifelong Well-Being, go to Amazon, Shambhala, Indie Bound or your local bookstore.

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oguntewomen · 6 years

Text

Why is willing to change the world not enough...

By Servane Mouazan

In August, one of our Ask Me Anything sessions focused on “Communicating your purpose”. (You can check the video here).

Here’s the set of questions we looked at:

Question 1 Why is having a clear purpose important? Servane Mouazan: Let me share with you a conversation I had with Isabel Kelly, a social justice advocate and founder of “Profit With Purpose”, a consultancy she founded, after a few years at Salesforce. She ran the international team at Salesforce Foundation and turned it into a profitable ($12m revenue) business unit within the company. This enabled the delivery of the 1/1/1 model of corporate philanthropy - volunteering, grants and product donation, which was, in effect, a start-up social enterprise embedded into a fast-growing commercial company. Now with Profit with Purpose, Isabel is bringing both the NGO and corporate worlds together by creating strategies with SMEs who want to integrate real social purpose into their business.

I asked Isabel: What questions do your clients never ask you, you wished they did…? Isabel Kelly said: “I wish clients were more questioning about WHY they do the things they do... Organisations tend to get very focused on the tactics (the 'what') and the 'why' gets lost along the way. It's essential to have a clearly articulated purpose or vision for the social impact they want to create, together with a great plan for how to get there. Clients rush to wanting to fundraise or increase their income but often need to take a few steps back to better articulate their proposition”.

A PERSONAL PURPOSE STATEMENT

Question 2: I think I need to be clear about my own purpose first, what do you think? SM: Absolutely! And these things change or can appear to you suddenly. Look at how Cecilia Milesi, from Global Change and Subir al Sur in Argentina, states hers: “I’m a woman with a clear purpose since childhood. I work collectively with many others to co-create a world of justice and dignity for all. “

Bilikiss Abiola, who transitioned from WeCyclers, the social enterprise she founded, to Lagos State Parks and Gardens Agency where she became General Manager:

“I was never an environmentalist on purpose - I think I fell into it! But now I’m seeing that we need more people like me to make some noise about the environment. Most people do not think environmental issues are important. Changing this is a matter of life and death. It doesn’t matter where you are, the well-being of the planet affects us all! Some people think: Well, oh, what we need in Africa is roads and security, or this and that. The environment is not high on their list of priorities. They talk about securing the pyramid of food, shelter, and clothing before you get anything else. People need to hear that the real base of the pyramid is the environment – if you don’t have a stable, safe environment, then you cannot survive”

Bilikiss Abiola

MAKTOUB

The last example is from Essma Ben Hamida from Enda Inter-Arabe in Tunisia. Essma co-founded enda inter-arabe with her husband Michael in 1990. It is now one of the highest rated microfinance institutions in the world, and has distributed over one million loans, benefiting over 330,000 borrowers. “I left teaching to become a journalist – I dreamt of changing the world. But despite writing about the big issues, I realised I was disappointed because nothing changed; they were not solving any problems.”

At some point she realised something about the contributions of small NGOs who were really doing something against poverty despite adverse contexts.

“An article on why farmers in Tunisia were not paying back their loans brought me home. I talked to a lot of people, a lot of women - the situation was very bad. Suddenly, while talking to a woman, something struck me very significantly. In Tunisia, we call it ‘maktoub’ - it was a moment of seeing my destiny, my purpose. I was sent to do this article so that I can reconnect with my country, and do something to help the women of Tunisia”.

Essma Ben Hamida

Question 3 What do you need to focus on when you work on your organisation purpose statement?

SM: When you run a social business - meaning, when you align your commercial objectives with your social purpose - you are not always selling easy products or services (at least not all of us), you put some social and environmental parameters in the equation. What we do is connected to a change that is needed, pain, sometimes horror stories, issues we want to see gone. And the first hurdle - after making sense of our why - is to communicate what we do without making people run away, or roll their eyes with early exhaustion. We need to keep them on board. Not just feel inspired…

When you start crafting your organisation statement, something you need to think about is “Am I challenging enough?” or “Am I overwhelming / confusing my audience?”

At Ogunte, since 2001, we have chosen to explore social entrepreneurship with a gender lens and specifically highlight and support women who focus on changing people’s worlds, and their environment. It is a very wide angle as we have to be intersectional to cater for the various needs or objectives women have in this space, and at the same time we want to see them shine and make decisions at the highest level possible, without victimising them. Our challenge is to make this topic exciting enough and not overwhelming for people who might be overwhelmed by feminism… (although I think they have a problem of their own, if that is their case!)

“Your purpose should be also a vessel for people to shine… “

We have a tagline that helps us in the process: “A better world, powered by women…” This is a conversation trigger… it assumes something is changing, and that women are heard, at the heart of decision-making, valued and recognised in the process of powering, fueling change, alongside men, and in all their diversity, and intersectionality. (At least, that’s what we hope this tagline vehiculates… Maybe some people feel overwhelmed… so we need to balance this by explicitly adding specifics on how we do this and how OTHERS can do this. So it shouldn’t’ be instructions, but guidance, and beliefs, a “rallying value layer” that gives a flavour of your ethos and how you do things.

We believe in ImpactWomen: Influential, skilled and connected women with bold solutions to social and environmental issues can create sustainable opportunities to make the world a better place. They are also more likely to be listened to and valued as civic, political and economic contributors.

... and a strong support ecosystem We believe that a stronger ecosystem of advisors, supporters and finance providers, that operates with a conscious gender-lens, can contribute to grow women in social enterprises and their work. Our purpose is to make this healthy ecosystem a reality, to address gender equality, and contribute to social justice. So the final bit is about Repercussions and Rewards. • What is the cost of you not intervening. • What is the reward and the benefit of your intervention?

Question 4: What if I am in a place where it is not safe to speak up and share my organisation’s purpose?

When you are in an unsafe place/ social or political context, you need to create alliances, and form a block with other like minded organisations, a united voice. For your personal support and also to never stay isolated. Find common purposes beyond your own, a network organisation for instance that understands your objectives. A great example is the Association for progressive communications ( APC). APC is an international network of organizations that was founded back in 1990 to provide communication infrastructure, including Internet-based applications, to groups and individuals who work for peace, human rights, protection of the environment, and sustainability. So very frequently, when their members see their internet shut down, APC creates a relay network to provide support, and continue to provide information on their behalf if that is what they need.

Question 5: Why is willing to change (or save...) the world not enough?

SM: Because it is vague, whose world is it? Maybe it’s not believable, changing the whole world? Who is changing it, who is helping, who is likely financing it? Who is calling the cards? Changing it t what, to whose image? Who is inclined to campaign and change the law to support this plan? Why hasn’t been done before? And whilst you are focusing on this, what would be the systemic repercussions of achieving your purpose?

a) The brain doesn’t like a blank sheet. It finds it horrible, you have to plant the seeds of your story, so set the context, bring in evidence. b) Start to work with what you know, the evidence you have, you need to buy in this purpose 100% and contribute to it day and night, as a matter of principle, otherwise you will feel mis-aligned. c) A course I encourage you to take up to grasp the origins and consequences of issues and how to affect change systemically, is the System Practice course by Acumen+ (Next intake October 2018 - Free course)

Communicating your purpose is about clarity of intention, it is about timeliness, and audience. It is about why your presence is relevant, how you fit, now and overtime. At some point you will have to explain how you serve, how you create change, which tools you use. Immediately after this statement, you should be able to bring about evidence, traction, and arguments that support this statement.

At the core of it, at its foundation, is of course, how you as an individual are able to find your MAKTOUB.

Like Essma Ben Hamida from Enda InterArabe, when stars align and you take a step back, you can find yourself at the intersection of duty, care, dream, passion and skills, you find your purpose, your destiny. Listen carefully and observe!

Please look at our previous videos on our Facebook page, they are packed with links, resources and tips (we previously talked about leadership, governance, and today was the AMA on Communicating your Purpose).

There are many ways we can help you grow your social venture, check out our services here

#purpose #ogunte #mektoub #social enterprise mission

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topmixtrends · 6 years

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IN HER LATEST BOOK, The Recovering: Intoxication and Its Aftermath, Leslie Jamison writes “‘addiction’ has always been two things at once: a set of disrupted neurotransmitters and a series of stories we’ve told about disruption.” In many ways, The Recovering acts as its own sort of disruption of how those stories are told. Not only does Jamison bring together a variety of disparate perspectives on addiction and recovery — articulations that are often kept apart from each other — but she does so in a way that transgresses both the boundaries of genre and competing sensibilities about what makes a story worthwhile.

Anchored in the personal narrative of Jamison’s own experience with alcoholism and recovery, The Recovering places Jamison’s story in conversation with those of literary figures whose work — drenched in the mythos of “whiskey and ink” — inspired her, as well as those of ordinary strangers she encounters both in her reportage and in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, and the larger social history of how addiction was pathologized, criminalized, and racialized throughout the 20th century. As a patchwork of memoir, reportage, literary criticism, and cultural analysis, The Recovering also draws attention to how Jamison’s training as a creative writer, literary scholar, and AA member informs her story in ways that productively challenge how stories are differently constructed, interpreted, and valued in those contexts.

I spoke to Jamison about the various conceptual, stylistic, and discursive bridges she attempts to construct throughout the book, as well as what it was like to translate her story from the rooms of AA into a dissertation on narratives of addiction and, ultimately, into a work of popular nonfiction.

DENISE GROLLMUS: The Recovering draws its energy from the tension that exists between the competing narratives we tell about addiction. There’s your personal story, the stories told by and about literary figures, the cultural history of race and addiction, the stories you encounter in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, stories you collected from other rehabilitation institutions, the psychoanalytic discourse, the medical discourse. Your book gestures to how the discourse of addiction is as profuse and conflicted as the need it attempts to describe. How did you manage your way through that profusion and not get overwhelmed by it?

LESLIE JAMISON: The most honest answer is that pretty early on I had to completely surrender the fantasy or the delusion of comprehensiveness on many levels. Like on a very basic level, when I told anyone about my dissertation or about this book, they would immediately ask, “Are you writing about this book? Are you writing about this novel? Or this author? Are you writing about the opioid crisis?” When you bring up the subject of addiction, the subject moves in 10 thousand different directions, and almost always, my answer was going to be, “No, I’m not writing about that” or, “Oh! I left that out.” And the immediate impulse for me was to feel a sense of shame, in the same way as when someone asks, “Have you read this book?” and I haven’t, because some part of me feels like I should have read everything and have something to say about everything. At a certain point I just had to say: This is a book about addiction, it’s not the book about addiction, so there’s going to be a lot that it doesn’t cover.

That said, through revising different drafts, I definitely did bring in discourses that had been absent from earlier drafts. Like, in the earlier drafts, I didn’t discuss at all medical definitions of addiction, or what addiction looks like in the brain, or what a doctor might say about addiction. But early readers also really encourage me to think about how literary accounts of addiction looked next to how medical science tries to illuminate addiction, or to consider what a doctor would say about how a 12-step program tries to respond to addiction. The goal was to try and bring in those modes of understanding addiction, even in fleeting ways, just to see how they could be in conversation with each other.

How did you end up choosing the discourses and stories you did include alongside your own?

Some of it had to do with the question of who the important people and the important voices were to me as a reader and as a person trying to get sober, especially in terms of the authors and artists I included. So, to some extent, it is unapologetically subjective and arbitrary in the sense that these are voices that happened to matter to me. But that basic architecture of the book also evolved. At another stage, I started to feel incredibly claustrophobic about the book simply being my story engaging with the stories of creative people whose work had been important to me, which is what motivated the choice to bring in the larger social history and the racialized nature of how addiction has been understood and prosecuted. I also wanted the book to work structurally in a way that was somehow akin to a meeting, but I didn’t want the stories that were populating that meeting to simply be the stories of famous writers. So, I wanted to include the stories of ordinary strangers, but I also didn’t want to include the stories of people I had met through recovery in a very detailed biographical way. I knew that I needed fully developed stories of strangers and I needed them to be people I met and approached as a writer, where the contract was clear that I was talking to them about their lives, because I wanted to put their lives in a book and make sure that they were comfortable with that exchange. That emerged from my desire to create a chorus of strangers in a way that wasn’t just me relating to people through their archives, but also me relating to other human beings that I was encountering. That was what motivated the turn to the Seneca House stories.

One particular tension that really struck me was how the pathos of your personal story is so sharply juxtaposed with the reportage style of the social history that you tell about the racist evolution of the drug scare narrative in 20th-century America. Though these two threads and their competing styles become more integrated toward the end of the book, the way they initially sit next to and apart from each other highlights how race, class, and gender inform whose pain is made visible, what that pain is allowed to look like, and how that pain is treated with compassion or not.

The truth is I felt a tremendous amount of anxiety about how these various stories were going to integrate. A few years into writing the book, I realized that I needed to contend with how the ways I had been allowed, encouraged, and given the means by which to articulate my own pain lived alongside racialized, punitive responses to addiction throughout 20th-century America. I very much didn’t want to just feel that cognitive dissonance and then write a book that was about myself and some other white people whose work I had read. I wanted to somehow allow that cognitive dissonance to become the content of the book itself and to trouble the surface of the book. One of my most important teachers, Charlie D’Ambrosio, always used to tell me that the problem with an essay can become its subject. One of the ways that advice bore out for me in this book was taking the way I felt troubled by my privilege and the ways in which my privilege had inflected how I’d experienced and narrated my addiction and make it a problem that didn’t simply haunt the margins of this book, but could be something the book was wrestling with explicitly.

For so long we’ve lived in a narrative landscape in which a certain type of drinking story is told over here, like in a memoir, and a certain kind of story is told over here, like in a discussion about policy or the opioid crisis. I just wanted to bring those very different stories together. I also wanted to address how that same sort of discomfort also lives in meetings, where people from incredibly different backgrounds are coming together under the belief that they can somehow gain something from listening to each other’s stories, even though those stories are often marked by vastly different levels of privilege and vastly different ways in which people have been allowed to express their pain or have their pain witnessed. So, the way in which I would feel uncomfortable in meetings about why anyone would want to hear what I have to say when people in this room have been through so much more, that same anxiety became part of the writing of the book itself.

Aside from the tensions between these different stories, you also touch on the tensions between the competing ways you were trained to be a reader and writer in different institutions, from the MFA program at Iowa and the PhD program at Yale, to the storytelling practices in the program of AA. As someone who is also in recovery and is also working on an academic project about narratives of addiction, I very much related to your description of straddling the huge rift between academia and recovery, largely because of how reading practices in the academy are so heavily dominated by the hermeneutics of suspicion, while the approach in AA is so inherently and necessarily reparative. A lot of literary scholarship reads the narratives that addicts tell about themselves as one Foucauldian nightmare after another, which is so antithetical to the way we interpret our stories in a space like AA. How did you bridge that divide while working on the iteration of The Recovering that was your dissertation? And how did that inform the current iteration?

That all really resonates, especially since I was basically trained as a close reader and didn’t particularly come from any theoretical background, so by the time I arrived at my PhD program, I was sort of like an idiot savant. I didn’t know anything about theory, and I hadn’t really spent time thinking about textual history as a way of coming at literature. It was sort of an embarrassment to me how much I didn’t know, but also a revelation to start spending time in archives and to realize how much I loved both investigating textual production in a very concrete and visceral way. I also became fascinated by the conversation between texts and institutions, and between texts and the larger contexts they came from. That fascination played out in the dissertation, where each chapter was a conversation between a literary text and then some sort of institution or set of institutional texts.

My advisors also ended up being a wonderful set of counterweights for me, because each one of them had a certain kind of suspicion that they brought to the table. For [Caleb Smith], one of my advisors, Foucault shapes a lot of how he thinks about the world and about texts. He does a lot of research and writing about prisons, and the way that prison has shaped the American imagination, so he’s pretty suspicious of institutions, and he was like this godsend for me. Where I’m predisposed to affirm or find something constitutive or saving, his whole approach to something like AA is filled with suspicion about what sort of behavior or narrative is being coerced by this social pressure. Far from feeling like these more suspicious modes of thinking or reading were obstacles, I felt like I was getting tremendous amounts of useful pressure to clarify and interrogate what I was thinking, so there was something so great about the process of incubating a lot of ideas and certainly conducting a lot of archival research under the auspices of my dissertation.

But at a certain point, I also knew that I wasn’t invested in the text of the dissertation. I knew I didn’t want to become a scholar or publish a monograph. I knew I wanted to write this crazy, hyper book, and I wanted one of its strands to be literary criticism and archival research. My dissertation was really a means to an end, rather than an end in itself. I wanted to use all of that research, but I wanted to rearticulate it in what felt to me was a more natural writing voice, rather than an academic writing voice. I wanted to use that work to sustain and feed this bigger, more nebulous project that I felt more committed to.

There was no part of your personal narrative in your dissertation, then?

Not at all. My dissertation was definitely pretty far on a continuum in terms of what the Yale English Department was willing to tolerate. To write something that was verging into personal narrative would have been beyond its upper limits, I think. And by the time I submitted my dissertation, I knew that it would feed this other book, so I didn’t feel any need or desire to put my personal narrative into the dissertation, because I was already sculpting this other book, where I knew it would have a place.

In the book, you express an anxiety about writing “another” addiction memoir, or even worse, you say, a work that would be described as “not just another addiction memoir.” And even though you do describe it as a chorus or “an anthology held together by earnestness,” the personal narrative really anchors the book. What were the stakes of including your personal narrative? Why not write a cultural history of addiction based in the stories of others? What was generative or crucial about including yourself despite your apprehension?

It’s an important question. For me, some of it has do with how my own creative desires are connected to narrative and specificity and the sort of creative writing I’ve always wanted to do. For years, I just wanted to be a fiction writer and I only wrote fiction, and I was so drawn to the idea of bringing a reader along on a story and making that story as lushly habitable as possible, to have it full of the granularity and viscerality of lived experience. And that’s always how I wrote. My writing was always full of sensory details and small moments of observation. That kind of granularity was always the kind of writing that was exciting for me to do. In nonfiction, there are lots of ways to access that sort of granularity, and certainly reporting, if you are taking notes and doing your job right, you can collect that specificity. But I felt that my own story was the story I had the best access to on a really crude level. That’s not to say that we have perfect access to our own lives, because I think self-delusion and imperfect self-knowledge are real, and we’re always questing to understand our own lives, rather than existing in some a priori state of understanding our own lives. But I was excited by the idea of anchoring the book with a spine of personal narrative, because I did want the book to have the momentum of a good yarn, of a narrative that was unfolding where you wanted to know what happened next, where you had all that specificity and the mess and grit of life, and my life was the life that felt the most readily available to use to anchor it and be that spine.

The choice to place that story so centrally among the other research also seems to speak to how the addict was also once the expert of her own experience. Like in the 1820s, before the consolidation of the medical field, Thomas De Quincey was being invited to speak at medical conferences, and his personal account of opium addiction wasn’t just an object to be studied, but it was accepted as a rigorous study of addiction in and of itself. And then, less than 20 years later, doctors start dismissing his accounts as little more than the unscientific, literary musings of a junkie. The addict becomes someone to study, not someone who can do the studying.

I hadn’t known that about De Quincey, but it really resonates with something that became really interesting to me, which was tracking [the founder of AA] Bill Wilson’s story as he told it in different contexts and what he chose to accentuate depending on what audience he was speaking to — like what he put in his autobiography or his story in the Big Book versus what he chose to include when he published his story in the New England Journal of Medicine. He definitely toned down “the great clean wind of a mountain top” rhetoric to present himself in a way that spoke to authority. And the fact that the New England Journal of Medicine was publishing his story said something about what they considered an authority or a voice worth representing. But he also felt like he had to skew his story in a particular way to make it credible in that context. And I also think there’s a pretty inherent traction and siren call to hearing the story of a particular individual. That’s not to say there aren’t all kinds of things that are compelling about stories on larger scales or social stories or the larger story of how Americans have understood addiction in completely schizophrenic ways throughout the 20th century. But there’s something about returning to the scale of the individual life that speaks to something pretty basic about human curiosity and what people are compelled by, enchanted by, and captivated by. It also speaks to how the logic of an AA meeting works. A meeting is a room full of experts on their own lives who are simultaneously being taught that they aren’t fully experts on their lives.

But in the rooms of AA, expertise is often collaboratively constructed. Nobody has all the answers. Instead, you come to a discussion meeting, for example, and you say, “I’m having this problem,” and then 20 other people offer their own iteration and approach and by the end of the meeting, the group conscience, or the chorus, as you call it, becomes the expert, really.

Yup, yup, yup. and I think that’s part of the reparative work I was trying to do with clichés in the book. I was trying to suggest that, for the super self-conscious, hyper self-aware person, part of what the cliché can do is disrupt that sense of expertise. Or to suggest that perhaps this simpler explanation that feels far too interchangeable to apply to you actually has something to teach you about your own life that you might not already understand.

I’m intrigued by what happens when the stories we tell in the rooms of AA become literary memoirs and AA clichés are embedded in literary language, which is supposed to be evacuated of cliché. Part of me revels in the transgression, while the other part of me — the part also trained in an MFA program — wants to scream: “lazy writing!” That move, which you see in works like Mary Karr’s Lit, for example, challenges aesthetic value in generative ways. What are some of your favorite AA clichés?

One of the things I think is lovely about how expansive the AA network is that I’m never quite sure what is an AA cliché or just a cliché. I always love the one, “sometimes the solution has nothing to do with the problem,” because it is such a useful antidote to my natural impulse to solve a problem by thinking about it hard enough or thinking about it intelligently enough. This idea that maybe the answer to the problem was getting coffee with a stranger, instead of analyzing my own life ad nauseam, was so useful. I also like “feelings aren’t facts,” although I also speak about them endlessly. And “one day at a time” is basic, but the number of times I’ve had to invoke it to help me through the moment is infinite. Then, there’s this one, I don’t know exactly how it was formulated, but this one man always used to say it at meetings: “Things don’t always get better, but they always get different.”

Denise Grollmus is a writer, teacher, and literary scholar based in Seattle. She is currently working on a PhD at the University of Washington, exploring how narratives of addiction use religious discourses and concepts in order to complicate medical and popular models of addiction.

The post “An Anthology Held Together by Earnestness”: A Conversation with Leslie Jamison appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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