I, like my peers, was in school, but was home on lunch break when the news came across that he'd been shot. I was taking dried bread to Mrs. Raider next door to us who fed it to her birds, and she told me because she'd been watching the t.v. I ran back home to tell my auntie, and we ran to turn of the t.v. to see for ourselves. I had to return to school, and upon arriving, noticed that the flag was at half mast. When we got into class, we were told to go home, because the president had been killed and school was being cancelled.
Traumas are often either shut out completely, or remembered in vivid detail. I think this was one of the first traumas of my young life. I remember watching with my family over the next few days, seeing the shooting over and over again, until it is now seared into my brain. I remember watching the handsome young president happily waving to the crowds that had gathered in Dallas on that bright November morning/afternoon. Then the shots, watching him slump, watching Jackie in her pink suit with pillbox hat, climb over the seat, the chaos that ensued...the racing away of the limo...the reactions of the crowd...the announcement of his death, the swearing in of the new president Johnson, with a seemingly numb and traumatized Jackie at his side. I can remember the funeral, and as a child, I was so curious about the boots on the riderless horse...watching little John John saluting his father's casket as it went by...
Yes, of course all of these images are online somewhere, yet, I can see them with movement, knowing that they are my own memories of that time in history. I miss JLK and the hopefulness he represented...I miss the innocence I lost when I began to realize, at a very young age, that we live in a world that is often a very scary place. Yet, I retain hope...somehow, I have to hope...
There are so many images that I can't get out of my head. In my book, I mention the bombing in Birmingham less than a year later when the young girls were killed. Then, there was the assassination of MLK...the killings at Kent State, the My Lai massacre, all the hideous images of death from the Viet Nam war...the Columbine shooting, 9/11...
In my therapy program at Naropa, we were taught about trauma and its effects. PTSD as a "mental condition" actually came out of the Viet Nam war, as they began to put together a set of symptoms that the returning soldiers shared upon their return, as well as the feelings and behaviors displayed by those who'd been imprisoned and then released from torture by the Viet Cong, and the NLF during the war.
In my work, most all of us have experienced traumas in our lives, and it's such an important part of healing to be able to work with them. Traumas that aren't dealt with are still in the mind/body/spirit of the person, and will wait there in hiding in the shadows and darkness of the subconscious, affecting ones behaviors and way of living until they are brought into the light. This is no easy process, and I am grateful to be a guide to them, as they begin to uncover, little by little the dark places in their spirits where sometimes awful things have hidden. I have never espoused the idea of having people relive the trauma, yet, there is some value in being able to at least understand why one has behaved in certain ways, and to understand the shame, pain, sadness, fear, anxiety, anger and all of the other emotions that go along with them.
I also have curiosity about the cultural traumas I mentioned above, the many ways in which we see and hear about all that is going on in the world in real time. We get hit with so much, over and over, day by day. Many of the young folks I work with deal with such a sense of hopelessness, and I wonder. I wonder if the constant bombardment, due to the vast interconnections we now have as opposed to 50 years ago, are what cause so many to now feel lost and hopeless about how to be of service or how to try to fix all that is wrong.Yet, at the same time, the interconnections are also helpful in creating places where we can feel less isolated and more interconnected with each other. How might we use this powerful connection to make our lives easier, rather than harder or more painful?
What I do know is that in my world, I am doing all that I can to keep some semblance of hope. With those I work with, I sincerely bless their efforts to understand all that has wounded them, and the strength they experience in trying to make sense of their lives in order to heal. As I watch each of them come to deeper and deeper understanding, I cannot help but feel there is hope for our world. There has to be a way that if we begin to understand how we are affected by the world we live in, we can see things more clearly, and perhaps there is healing that can occur for us all. Perhaps this is the shift that is spoken of--the pulling away of the blinders, the looking at our world as it is, with all of its ugliness, yet, with all of its beauty as well, and in doing so, beginning to find what it is we can do, how we can have more meaning in our lives...
I have to keep hoping...I have to...
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