At Friday’s 911 ceremony in NYC, they read this quote from Sandra Day O’Connor. It resonates with me, and might with others.
“We don’t accomplish anything in this world alone… and whatever happens is the result of the whole tapestry of one’s life and all the weavings of individual threads form one to another that creates something.” – Sandra Day O’Connor
I did not realize it was 911 until I was up and about this morning. My NPR station sounded off with the taps that was being played at the White House. I watched CNN at the gym as the names were read off in front of the World Trade Center, thinking of my cousin’s daughter who made it out alive, and all the others who did not. How life in DC, and in America has changed in these eight years. It was very sad, and I cried after dropping off my carpool.
I wondered if under the leadership of President Obama, America could recapture some of the global goodwill we had in the days after the attacks. We had come to the brink of maturing as a culture, the way that old places and peoples have matured through their times of deepest darkness and grief. But we missed that opportunity to mature, instead needing to blame the first scapegoat the former administration could enact vengeance against. In the sentiments of playwrite Tony Kushner, there are still no angels in America. We don’t have the spiritual depth to keep and attract good angelic help. Maybe we haved earned it.
On the other hand, last weekend my sister, her boyfriend and I took Alison to the Jimmy Buffett concert. I had never been, but my sister had been twice and said it was one of the places one had to visit before one passed. She was right: it was sort of like the Renaissance Faire goes Key West, but completely embodied. Pre-concert antics aside, for three solid hours, we were on our feet singing and dancing and cheering. And despite the beach culture depicted, very few of this multi age crowd was disabled with happy substances. We really were high on life.
So very not deep, but also so very authentic and joyful and mindful. Makes me think that although there are no angels in America, there are cherubins dancing and frolicking and celebrating the end of a hard work day. After all, it is five oclock somewhere.
Have a great frolicking weekend. We have earned it.
Luann
I recently conducted research on myself while experiencing a guided visualization directed body scan. Based on my results, I constructed a paper which I am presenting at the inaugural gathering of the Interdisciplinary Coalition of North American Phenomenologists on May 8-9.
I am excited to hear what my peers think of this approach, as I continue to explore how to incorporate embodiment practices into research method. Please try it out with your self and your clients.
Let me know what you think.
Directed Body Scan © Luann D. Fortune, September 30, 2008
Find a place that is safe and comfortable. Position yourself in that space. (Pause.) Shift or adjust your body so you are comfortable and supported. Take a deep breath in. As you exhale, allow your eyes to close. Notice how it feels to stop the flow of real-time visual signals. (Pause.) Take several more deep breaths. Allow yourself to put away thoughts and distractions from daily life, and give yourself permission to focus on yourself and your physical body in this moment.
Now, focus your awareness on the space outside your body. Notice what you hear. (Pause.) Notice what you smell. (Pause.) Notice temperature or air flow against your skin. Notice how your clothes feel. Notice how the floor or furniture that support you feel against your body. Note what else you are aware of in the outside world.
Notice your breath as you draw air from outside your body to inside your lungs. Notice your exhalation sends air from inside you to the space outside you. Continue to breathe, focusing on the in-flow and out-flow of air. Notice that your breath connects the external world to your internal self. Notice how this feels.
As you exhale, shift your focus to your internal physical body. Follow your breath as it enters your lungs, filling your chest, expanding your abdomen. Notice your sensations inside your torso. Notice any feelings of pressure, movement, pain, temperature, or other sensations that are there. Note any words that describe your internal experience in this area of your body.
With your arms positioned at your sides, and your elbows along your rib cage, raise your forearms so that you are suspending them unsupported in the air. Open your hands, spreading your fingers and extending your palms upwards. Focus on your hands. Notice what they weigh: are they heavy or light. What else do you notice about your hands? Rotate your hands so that the palms are facing downward; weigh them now. What do you notice about their weight? What other sensations do you notice?
Expand your awareness to your whole body. Notice where your attention goes next. Notice any feelings of pressure, movement, pain, temperature, or other sensations that are there. Note any words that describe your internal experience in this area of your body. Note any discomfort that you feel. Note any words that describe this feeling in detail. Focus your attention on this place in your body. Notice if it changes.
Allow your attention to move through your body from the inside. Notice which body parts you can feel easily. Notice which body parts express little or no sensation. Name the sensations as you continue to move your attention through the inside of your body. Notice any feelings of pressure, movement, pain, temperature, or other sensations that are there. Note any words that describe your internal experience in each area of your body.
Continue moving your focus through the inside of your body. When you have explored all of your parts, notice if any places call back your attention. If so, move your awareness there. Notice any feelings of pressure, movement, pain, temperature, or other sensations that are there. Note any words that describe your internal experience in this area of your body. Describe them in detail.
Now, shift your focus back to your breath. As you inhale and exhale, notice any feelings of pressure, movement, pain, temperature, or other sensations that are there. Note any words that describe your internal experience in this area of your body.
Gradually, bring your attention to the external world, the space outside your body. When you are ready, open your eyes.
I am happy to share that my paper on somatic case study has been accepted for presentation at the inaugural meeting of the INTERDISCIPLINARY COALITION OF NORTH AMERICAN PHENOMENOLOGISTS meeting at Ramopo College, New Jersey over May 8 and 9, 2009. It is my first scholarly presentation. I am grateful to this newly formed group for giving me a chance to present and flounder, if that is how it unfolds.
While searching through a used book cart, I found a picture book whose illustrations were wrapped around the text of a 1936 poem. I scooped up this bargain, as it has special meaning for me. Some years back, a student of mine finishing the short community course on massage that I was then teaching, read this in my honor. It is one of the greatest tributes I ever received. The text goes like this:
Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar – now who”ll make it two _
Two dollars, and who”ll make it three?
“Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three”. . . but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody,pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.
The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: “What am I bidden for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow;
“A thousand dollars – and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand – and who’ll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice
And going – and gone,” said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand -
What changed its worth?” The man replied:
“The touch of the masters hand.”
–by Myra Welch
I struggled to write about being in Washington this past inaugural week, on the trail of weeks of personal and professional challenges. I wanted to convey the poignancy of being present at the making of history, and also the perspective of my life’s experiences making sense of this place in time and space. The enormity of doing it well so overwhelmed me, I almost did not write at all.
Then my daughter of 13 years, both my reason and inspiration for this enormity, tonight gave me my inroad by sliding in her new dvd, Across the Universe. If you have not seen it, it is a beautifully constructed dramatic musical rendition (thanks to Lennon, McCartney and Harrison) of the 1960s. My first Revolution.
In the year MLKing was assassinated, I was my daughter’s age. In the riots that followed, I became a questioner, a protester, a radical, a revolutionary. As that time drew to a close, and another age entered, I became a grown up and abandoned childish things. I worked, saved, matured, made a career and then another, had a family, got old, returned to school, and just recently lost half of my net worth. A Washingtonian of over 20 years, I have migrated from awed to jaded by my minor witness to our political process.
But I, perhaps like many, realized that what happened here this week, that what happened in our country the past year, is a major demonstration of a change that is now embodied in the American people, culture, and society. Without the revolution I witnessed earlier, some thirty years back, I would not have been standing on the National Mall this week, crying and waving an American flag, and appreciating the weight of my own cultural history.
But I also suspect I would not have been there if our vast lost assets were still in play in various investment accounts. Not me, personally, of course (I wish). But I think it took an economic catastrophe to shake the old foundation, and allow the new growth to move in. Somehow, this past year, I keep revisiting deep loss and re-growth. What a strange and wonderful time I live in.
I want to tell you about the inauguration celebration. It was exhilarating, heart-breaking, exhausting, frustrating, elevating, and memorable is too trite a word. Locally, we were warned for weeks to anticipate record crowds, and then record cold conditions, and then (locally we heard) not so well planned events and programs. Washington, DC , is not a very big city, and has many management shortfalls even under ideal circumstances. The local spin was approaching ominous, suggesting that VA/MD/DC residents stay home and off the roads for Big Day. For weeks, we have been given half-finished transportation and road/bridge closure plans. We were often more confused after a report was released.
Some of my contacts told me that the inauguration promo we received here was different that what the rest of the country received. Certainly, the information about where, when, how to get there, was shrouded in unclarity and appeared either confused or secretive. I appreciate the need for security, but also, I thought that transparency and returning the grounds and process to the People was part of what this was about. I remain ambivalent.
Regardless, I determined very early that I would take Alison to the swearing in ceremony…even from some distant spot on the National Mall. (We were there for the MillionMOm March, and I knew what almost a million felt like on the Mall. But I would come to know what differences the addition of security, secret service, and cold weather could make.) I began to feel like this was Alison’s time. I even held our own home-grown formal party for Alison and her young friends, to dress in their finest and sip sparkling cider, and celebrate themselves.
Although Chris and I opened our humble check books for our president elect, it was the other member of our family who opened her heart to the entire process. Alison is the one of us who canvassed the streets for Obama support, wore her Obama buttons, and wrote the essays to articulate her belief in our system and her candidate. She inspired me, as did all the other young people who worked and believed and who also share in this victory. Yes, they can and they did.
So to be present for History was a natural progression, especially since we live in DC. We decided to test our stamina by venturing to the Inaugural Concert. We were sadly disappointed; after hours of manuevering, we were turned away at the gate. We were so close to the entry we heard the argument between the police and the Secret Service: the police argued there was lots of space inside, the Secret Service trumpted them by saying they thought any more people would be unsafe. Alison cried, and my identity as the most-competent-person-I-know, crumbled. We hung around for the next few hours, since we could not cross the barricade to get home, but could not hear or see anything. I have to get her the DVD; every time I see it, it will humble me.
So, on Tuesday, we woke before dawn. Chris and I got Alison, her friends, and my cousins who were visiting, up and out early. We walked the 4 miles to the Mall. It was 18 degrees out, and the ground was cold. I have never in my entire life, in all my travels, seen so many people move into an area to assemble. The photos you have seen cannot approach the immensity of so many people, and the enormity of the moment.
We waited for many hours, with about 2 million of our closest friends, and then watched the out of sync Jumbotron near us (we were the ones on the north end of the Mall, in front of the American History Museum) as our 44th president took the jumbled oath. In some ways, I realized we were all holding our breath, lest the Secret Service or those snipers over looking us be needed. But some moments are too big for thoughts of safety. We cried. We hugged. We took pictures. We recorded the moment in our emotional memory. and then we waited over an hour to move a block, realizing that we had been fenced in while we wept.
It was clearly about crowd control, and I understand. And mostly, I think they did a good job of balancing security with participation. Though I would not have said that thought while I held my sobbing daughter, shut out from the concert. And I bet those who thought they had vip tickets to the swearing in, but were turned away, feel betrayed. Regardless, there is a greater good, and it comes today with the closure edit for Guantanamo Bay. I am a grown up , and a Washingtonian, and I think I can distinquish between pagentry and policy.
In the aftermath, I have tried to sort out what it all means to me personally. Chris helped me, after watching that film tonight, Across the Universe. Uncharacteristically, he said it is about consciousness evolution. Without the atrocities of Vietnam, American collective consciousness would not have come to challenge authority as we did and continue to do. Without that pivotal moment in our history, we would not have come to Today. Although we did not prevent it, we at least questioned this Iraq war before it even started. Perhaps next time, we won’t have to go to war at all.
Maybe one scene in Across the Universe gives me a deeper visual explanation: soldiers in a Vietnam like delta are doing a group carry to the background song She’s So Heavy (the Beatles). They are carrying the Statue of Liberty.
With enormity of purpose comes enormity of process, including for each of us individually.
Thanks for sharing in my own story.
I just returned from the Society of Phenomenology and Human Studies annual conference in Pittsburgh. It was my honor to be with Dorianne, and several other Fielding students, as they presented their first academic conference papers. The entire experience was valuable, including seeing first hand how Valerie and Fielding are different (in this case, our panelists did not just read their papers, but presented their studies in moving and relevant ways). I was proud and inspired, and I am sure you all would be.
