The Unclad Soul

Historian Will Durant wrote in one of his books about “the few” who he said delight in thinking and understanding, “who yearn not for goods, nor for victory, but for knowledge; who leave both market and battlefield to lose themselves in the quiet clarity of secluded thought; whose will is a light rather than a fire, whose haven is not power but truth.” “These are the   people” he wrote, “who stand aside unused by the world.” How perplexing that so often it is thinking people, gentle souls,   soft spoken   individuals, people of spiritual depth, unprofaned, compassionate to a fault, who “stand aside unused by the world.” I know these people. I have met them over the years. I have worked with them. They have been neighbors. They have been amazing friends. They live in quiet, modest homes, warm with welcome, blanketed with love. They are not famous. They have no massive assets. They do not run big companies. Their impact is not in power, or financial resources...

“Life does not give you big, simple answers. It demands patience, focus, and an open, intelligent mind to gather the pieces of a puzzle and fit them together into a coherent whole. Nothing worth knowing is ever easily learned.”  ~ Lisa Cach, Writer/Novelist

I am making my way through the AMC Mad Men series. I saw the original series when it first came out almost ten years ago. Now I’m watching it again on Netflix. I knew what I was in for. Since the presidential election I have been trying to better understand myself, others, and my country. The ugly bitterness of the election left me emotionally exhausted, and frankly, disappointed in people in general. I didn’t follow the chaos on Twitter, but Facebook was a primeval jungle of crude squabbling, angry rants, malicious name calling, and endless acts of blocking and unfriending people. Some of them relatives and close friends. So after all of that, I decided to wander into Mad Men, the perfect setting for seeing the absolute worst in human hurt, pettiness, jealously, manipulation and betrayal. I thought that there, I might get some understanding of why, in certain circumstances, we sink, almost unconsciously and hopelessly, into such abysmal and damaging behavior. Don Draper, ...

“When I got home I mixed a stiff one and stood by the open window in the living room and sipped it and listened to the groundswell of traffic on Laurel Canyon Boulevard and looked at the glare of the big angry city hanging over the shoulder of the hills through which the boulevard had been cut. Far off the banshee wail of police or fire sirens rose and fell, never for very long completely silent. Out there in the night of a thousand crimes, people were dying, being maimed, cut by flying glass, crushed against steering wheels or under heavy tires. People were being beaten, robbed, strangled, raped, and murdered. People were hungry, sick; bored, desperate with loneliness or remorse or fear; angry, cruel, feverish, shaken by sobs. A city no worse than others, a city rich and vigorous and full of pride, a city lost and beaten and full of emptiness. It all depends on where you sit and what your private score is.” ~ Excerpt from Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye

Care of the Soul Don’t ignore or repress your complexes, instead try to befriend them By Thomas Moore 2016 March/April Issue: Spirituality & Health When it comes to dieting, my willpower buckles when I’m faced with mashed potatoes and gravy. I may have just read a book on eating only green veggies, and I’ve resolved to go the Spartan route, but I can’t pass up the basic food that I associate with my mother and grandmother and cozy dinners with beloved family members in my childhood. It probably doesn’t help that I left home at an early age for a boarding school. My diet problem is not so much that I lack the willpower but that my “Warm Irish-American Family” complex is so strong and deeply planted in me. A psychological complex is a set of emotions, memories, anxieties, desires, and habits focused around a theme—my need for family comfort, for example—that urges a person in a certain direction that may or may not fit his or her conscious and rational purposes. For ...

“Life's passed along to us empty. We have to make up the happiness part.”   ~ Richard Ford, Novelist

 "It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it." ~ Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Writer/Mystic

“You are that which you are seeking.”  – St. Francis of Assisi, Catholic Mystic

“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.”  ~ Rumi, Persian Poet/Mystic

Philip Seymour Hoffman’s tragic death has stayed with me. I have both puzzled over it and mourned it for days now. Famously gifted, endlessly busy with wonderful acting projects, the father of three sweet children, rewarded with plenty of financial resources—and yet, a deep need or perhaps craving, allowed him to test a dark path of self destruction. Even the most talented of us, those seemingly delighted with their well-earned success, people beaming with what appears to be the things we all want, can still have a profound inner restlessness that desperately eclipses achievements, awards, blessings, and all good things. I saw a Facebook post where a minister was reflecting about Hoffman. It was an attempt to deal with his death in some sort of religious terms. Someone commented on the piece by stating, insensitively in my opinion, that Hoffman's life ended the way it did because "he didn't have Jesus in his life.” I find myself exhausted by such banality; as...

In a magnificent poem by Stephen Dunn there are these lines: “The world thought I didn’t understand it, but I did, knew that to parse was to narrow and to narrow was to live one good way. Awash with desire I also knew a little was plenty and more than I deserved. And because I was guilty long before any verdict, my dreams unspeakable, I hunkered down and buttoned up, ready to give the world, if I had to give it anything, no more than a closed-mouth kiss.” It is that closing off to the world, to people, to ourselves, that diminishes life. The world thinks we don’t understand this, but we do. We just too often don’t admit it to ourselves. It is a scary business to live wide open, exposed, accessible, revealing our true thoughts and living by longings and knowledge, insights and beliefs and identity we own and refuse to deny or disguise. How easy it is though, how tempting, to give in to the pressure to live “hunkered down and buttoned u...

For a long time I have been taken with Whitney Houston’s 2009 video of her song, “I Look to You.” I often return to it for some kind of connection which I’m really not sure of.  I think it must be her vulnerability. Or mine. And there is something that feels so fragile about her in this one. I feel compassion when I watch it. The video has a simple setting. She begins in shadows sitting in a chair. As the song opens soft light reveals her in a flowing silk dress. Her head is bowed. Her features troubled. And though her face is luminous, there is weariness in her eyes. She sings, “As I lay me down/Heaven hear me now/I’m lost without a cause/After giving it my all/Winter storms have come/And darkened my sun/After all that I’ve been through/Who on earth can I turn to?/I look to you” The most awarded female performer of all time, according to Guinness World Records, she nevertheless often lived a life tormented by inner urges she could not control, by an injured soul that ...

I am reading Judith Guest’s monumental classic, “Ordinary People.”  It was written 30 years ago and was made into an Academy Award winning movie directed by Robert Redford.  It remains an extraordinary novel with life lessons still fresh and relevant today. Here is a journey into deeply wounding grief, into the dark shadows of shattering loss. The Jarrets are a suburban family of affluence and refinement.  Calvin, or Cal, the father, is a successful tax attorney.  He appears confident and polished but underneath the suits he wears is a broken man coming apart from sadness and crippling self doubts.  He longs for his family and himself to heal from a terrible event but he does not know how to guide the process.  He is stuck in bewildering passivity.  His wife Beth is a sophisticated, attractive woman, neatly put together in color coordinated outfits.  But she is coldly indifferent to her family, more than high maintenance, she is touchy an...

The Archipelago of Kisses We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't grow on trees, like in the old days. So where does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy, like being unleashed with a credit card in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss. The sloppy kiss. The peck. The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss. The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss. The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad sometimes kiss. The I know your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road, with its purple thumb out. If you were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's red door just to see how it fits. Oh where does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile. Rub two smiles, you...