Shadow Work
The coming eclipse has got this area all in a tizzy...we are close to the path of totality and will experience about 94% totality here. It's also a big energetic shift. In a part of my life I don't really advertise, I have training in Quantum Crystalline Energy methods, and my teacher suggests it's time to do some Shadow Work, to take a fearless inventory of our hopes and dreams and fears, and let the dark parts go with the new energetic patterns coming in to our consciousness. So, here we go.
Whom do I hate?
I mean, I try not to hate anyone. There are days my eldest child is particularly trying, but I don't hate him. Same for my husband. Same for my mom. I hate stupid people? People who drive like they ain't got no where to be? (I always have somewhere to be, and I'm usually late in getting there.)
There are plenty of people I would prefer not to interact with, but it doesn't really rise to the level of hate; friends' chosen partners, friends of friends, other faculty members, old friends, extended family. I may have to think about this one more. I have tried very hard to embrace the yogic philosophy that the particularly challenging people in our lives are out greatest teachers. That has been true for me.
Whom do I admire?
I wasn't expecting this one to be harder than the previous one, but it is. What does she mean by "admire"? Like, think they have done good things in their life and I want to be like them?
Dictionary.com says, "to regard with wonder, pleasure, or approval". Hmm.
I admire certain aspects of people, but I'm not sure that I admire any one whole person. I admire something about each of my friends, but there's also parts I don't enjoy so much. I accept it as part of who they are, and I understand why they are the way they are. There's always a "yeah, but..." for me.
I admire people who take care of themselves, physically, spiritually, emotionally. I admire people with good boundaries. I admire people who work hard. I admire people who help others.
The other definition is sarcastic: "to regards with wonder or surprise (usually used ironically or sarcastically". I use that definition in common language all the time. I admire your attention to detail, I admire your commitment to the cause, I admire your dedication. All while really not, and poking fun at the person.
So. Guess I need to work on that?
Who do I judge?
Oh, this one's easy: everyone. All the time. On the inside. I try really, really hard to be empathetic. I heard somewhere (maybe a podcast?) that your first reaction is the one you've been conditioned to have, and the next reaction is who you really are. I'd like to believe this to be true; the majority of female characters in my formative years were very judgmental of everyone around them, and let it be known far and wide how they felt. It was a different era, right and wrong were more clearly defined, social norms far more strict and unyielding. That said, they were still pretty bitchy. That's my internal reaction. Then I try to remember the reading I've done about other people's lives, and my own experiences working with often-marginalized patients, and refute that judgement.
The initial thoughts: Slut. Liar. Lazy. Brought it on themselves. Not right. Asshole.
The empathy comes a moment in time after that.
Where am I racist?
This is another one where I have two sets of thoughts. The initial one is very racist. The second is more inline with the liberal, multicultural, feminist of the world I appear to be on the outside. If the conditioning-first, independent-identity is true, it applies here as well.
I have been struggling with this, given recent events in the country. I'm not from the South, and my personal policy has always been to steer clear of anyone flying a Confederate flag. I can pretend to be kin, because I'm white and do not look obviously ethnic, right up until I open my mouth. The ability to pass as one of them, based on my privilege, buys me enough time to get the hell out of Dodge.
My family is not waving Confederate flags or walking around in white hoods or actively harming people of color, but they are definitely racist. In the "I don't hate them, but I don't want to associate with them" version. In their version, they still call African Americans the n-word. I heard it very commonly growing up. I understood that it was a terrible insult, and my parents told me not to use it, though they themselves did. They basically told me that they were less racist than my grandparents, and I would be less racist than they are. Which is true; though I have heard my sisters use the n-word as well, so I'm not sure if leaving Detroit was a pre-requisite for that. You should treat people equally, they told me. But it was made clear that black boyfriends would not be met with welcoming arms, that blacks were to blame for the destruction of a once-great city, that the reason we had to move to the suburbs was because my parents couldn't afford to send three kids through Catholic school and I was not going to go to public school. It was 1983, and I would have bussed to a predominantly black area, as an attempt to desegregate the Detroit Public Schools. That was not going to happen. We moved to a mostly white suburb; I grew up knowing only a few black kids.
My education and leaving home made me much more liberal in every respect than the rest of my family, though the reality is that I spend the vast majority of my time interacting with other white people at both work and personally.
My social-justice-loving friends on Facebook are demanding that white people stand up to other white people and post, post, post and engage, engage, engage. I feel sort of like a poser though, and I don't. A friend from high school found a birthday card I'd given her, and it was some sort of "birthdays around the world" thing, and my, er, "witty commentary" on it is terribly xenophobic, mean-spirited, and totally insensitive. I was spectacularly awful to a Vietnamese student teacher in my French class. I was probably close to 25 before my first thought upon seeing an attractive black man was, "wow, he's hot" instead of "he's black". None of them know that, but my friends from high school are well-acquainted with my past racism. Maybe that would be a good example of how one can expand horizons and beliefs; maybe I would get called out. I don't know. I struggle with it. I know it should not really be about me; it should be about using my status as a white person to show up for people of color to other white people. I'm working on it, but not quite there yet.
The ultimate test of this will be what happens in the next 6 months or so, as we prepare for Son #1 to enter kindergarten. Our neighborhood school is a Title I school, and heavily African American. Our neighborhood is fairly diverse, but anyone who has another option sends their kids elsewhere, and the public school becomes the "black school". None of our neighbors, including an interracial couple, send their children to the local elementary school. I want to live my ideals, and allow my son to know diversity; I also want him to get a good education. We'll do the tours and everything and see what becomes of it. It is not going to be an easy decision, I think.
Where am I resentful?
Where am I NOT resentful? was my first thought. But really, I'm not all that resentful. Maybe a little, and it's mostly directed at my family.
I resent that my reward for having my shit together is for my parents to essentially ignore me. Perhaps benign neglect is a better word; I recognize that I probably wouldn't enjoy their continuous attention, but it still pisses me off. I resent that my family tries to protect me from things by either omission or outright lies. I resent having to support my parents financially as soon as I started working, and I resent that I will likely be asked to do so again in the near future. I resent my mother-in-law because she largely ignores my husband unless she is competing with me for his attention, and largely ignores our children unless she is trying to discipline them.
I resent my mentor/chair for being such a harsh taskmaster during my reappointment process, 4 months post-partum, and putting me through hell for the next four months, and then forgetting about it all 4 months after that.
I resent not having the birth experience I desired either time.
When I talk about people, what do I criticize or focus on?
I love a good scandal. I'm a bit of a gossip, a purveyor of information. The schadenfreude is also strong with this one. Basically, others' poor choices, and more so if they result in something unethical, scandalous, improper, or juicy happening because of them.
It's not like I always made good choices, but my life is profoundly boring in the scandal department, so I enjoy living vicariously though others' adventurous misfortunes.
Well, that was...interesting. I'll continue to think and work on this themes in coming days...
Whom do I hate?
I mean, I try not to hate anyone. There are days my eldest child is particularly trying, but I don't hate him. Same for my husband. Same for my mom. I hate stupid people? People who drive like they ain't got no where to be? (I always have somewhere to be, and I'm usually late in getting there.)
There are plenty of people I would prefer not to interact with, but it doesn't really rise to the level of hate; friends' chosen partners, friends of friends, other faculty members, old friends, extended family. I may have to think about this one more. I have tried very hard to embrace the yogic philosophy that the particularly challenging people in our lives are out greatest teachers. That has been true for me.
Whom do I admire?
I wasn't expecting this one to be harder than the previous one, but it is. What does she mean by "admire"? Like, think they have done good things in their life and I want to be like them?
Dictionary.com says, "to regard with wonder, pleasure, or approval". Hmm.
I admire certain aspects of people, but I'm not sure that I admire any one whole person. I admire something about each of my friends, but there's also parts I don't enjoy so much. I accept it as part of who they are, and I understand why they are the way they are. There's always a "yeah, but..." for me.
I admire people who take care of themselves, physically, spiritually, emotionally. I admire people with good boundaries. I admire people who work hard. I admire people who help others.
The other definition is sarcastic: "to regards with wonder or surprise (usually used ironically or sarcastically". I use that definition in common language all the time. I admire your attention to detail, I admire your commitment to the cause, I admire your dedication. All while really not, and poking fun at the person.
So. Guess I need to work on that?
Who do I judge?
Oh, this one's easy: everyone. All the time. On the inside. I try really, really hard to be empathetic. I heard somewhere (maybe a podcast?) that your first reaction is the one you've been conditioned to have, and the next reaction is who you really are. I'd like to believe this to be true; the majority of female characters in my formative years were very judgmental of everyone around them, and let it be known far and wide how they felt. It was a different era, right and wrong were more clearly defined, social norms far more strict and unyielding. That said, they were still pretty bitchy. That's my internal reaction. Then I try to remember the reading I've done about other people's lives, and my own experiences working with often-marginalized patients, and refute that judgement.
The initial thoughts: Slut. Liar. Lazy. Brought it on themselves. Not right. Asshole.
The empathy comes a moment in time after that.
Where am I racist?
This is another one where I have two sets of thoughts. The initial one is very racist. The second is more inline with the liberal, multicultural, feminist of the world I appear to be on the outside. If the conditioning-first, independent-identity is true, it applies here as well.
I have been struggling with this, given recent events in the country. I'm not from the South, and my personal policy has always been to steer clear of anyone flying a Confederate flag. I can pretend to be kin, because I'm white and do not look obviously ethnic, right up until I open my mouth. The ability to pass as one of them, based on my privilege, buys me enough time to get the hell out of Dodge.
My family is not waving Confederate flags or walking around in white hoods or actively harming people of color, but they are definitely racist. In the "I don't hate them, but I don't want to associate with them" version. In their version, they still call African Americans the n-word. I heard it very commonly growing up. I understood that it was a terrible insult, and my parents told me not to use it, though they themselves did. They basically told me that they were less racist than my grandparents, and I would be less racist than they are. Which is true; though I have heard my sisters use the n-word as well, so I'm not sure if leaving Detroit was a pre-requisite for that. You should treat people equally, they told me. But it was made clear that black boyfriends would not be met with welcoming arms, that blacks were to blame for the destruction of a once-great city, that the reason we had to move to the suburbs was because my parents couldn't afford to send three kids through Catholic school and I was not going to go to public school. It was 1983, and I would have bussed to a predominantly black area, as an attempt to desegregate the Detroit Public Schools. That was not going to happen. We moved to a mostly white suburb; I grew up knowing only a few black kids.
My education and leaving home made me much more liberal in every respect than the rest of my family, though the reality is that I spend the vast majority of my time interacting with other white people at both work and personally.
My social-justice-loving friends on Facebook are demanding that white people stand up to other white people and post, post, post and engage, engage, engage. I feel sort of like a poser though, and I don't. A friend from high school found a birthday card I'd given her, and it was some sort of "birthdays around the world" thing, and my, er, "witty commentary" on it is terribly xenophobic, mean-spirited, and totally insensitive. I was spectacularly awful to a Vietnamese student teacher in my French class. I was probably close to 25 before my first thought upon seeing an attractive black man was, "wow, he's hot" instead of "he's black". None of them know that, but my friends from high school are well-acquainted with my past racism. Maybe that would be a good example of how one can expand horizons and beliefs; maybe I would get called out. I don't know. I struggle with it. I know it should not really be about me; it should be about using my status as a white person to show up for people of color to other white people. I'm working on it, but not quite there yet.
The ultimate test of this will be what happens in the next 6 months or so, as we prepare for Son #1 to enter kindergarten. Our neighborhood school is a Title I school, and heavily African American. Our neighborhood is fairly diverse, but anyone who has another option sends their kids elsewhere, and the public school becomes the "black school". None of our neighbors, including an interracial couple, send their children to the local elementary school. I want to live my ideals, and allow my son to know diversity; I also want him to get a good education. We'll do the tours and everything and see what becomes of it. It is not going to be an easy decision, I think.
Where am I resentful?
Where am I NOT resentful? was my first thought. But really, I'm not all that resentful. Maybe a little, and it's mostly directed at my family.
I resent that my reward for having my shit together is for my parents to essentially ignore me. Perhaps benign neglect is a better word; I recognize that I probably wouldn't enjoy their continuous attention, but it still pisses me off. I resent that my family tries to protect me from things by either omission or outright lies. I resent having to support my parents financially as soon as I started working, and I resent that I will likely be asked to do so again in the near future. I resent my mother-in-law because she largely ignores my husband unless she is competing with me for his attention, and largely ignores our children unless she is trying to discipline them.
I resent my mentor/chair for being such a harsh taskmaster during my reappointment process, 4 months post-partum, and putting me through hell for the next four months, and then forgetting about it all 4 months after that.
I resent not having the birth experience I desired either time.
When I talk about people, what do I criticize or focus on?
I love a good scandal. I'm a bit of a gossip, a purveyor of information. The schadenfreude is also strong with this one. Basically, others' poor choices, and more so if they result in something unethical, scandalous, improper, or juicy happening because of them.
It's not like I always made good choices, but my life is profoundly boring in the scandal department, so I enjoy living vicariously though others' adventurous misfortunes.
Well, that was...interesting. I'll continue to think and work on this themes in coming days...
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