Voice Movement Therapy

Jackson, our three week old grandson, is vocal--more so than I remember our children being. I think it's because his mom, while birthing him, used Voice Movement Therapy throughout. Her birthing experience was so powerful--her voice so expressive and open--that the midwife has asked, "Now who was it you did VMT with?" She has another mom-to-be who wants to prepare for childbirth with our daughter's VMT therapist, Kelly Close.

Having my own voice has been an issue for me. I was raised in the South, third daughter and by the time I came along, I don't think my parents had the bandwidth to hear me. And, being a child, I took it personally--thinking that meant I had nothing to say.

Jackson seems to have a head start. He's a noisy guy--not with crying but with the full expression of whatever he is experiencing. I think he got it from being in the birthing canal and hearing his mom, chanting and singing her way through childbirth. Her voice, his voice--to him it's the same. He still knows we are one, and he doesn't mind telling us.

There Really Is More

I have taken ten Advanced Courses through the More To Life Program, and most of those have been with Brad Brown, PhD. He is pictured here, in the middle, between Claud and me. Lately, I've felt as thought I'm in a personal advanced course. Our grandson, Jackson, was born on August 4, and on the following Friday, August 10, Brad, mentor and beloved teacher, passed from this life. The intensity of these experiences reminds me of times with Brad, in the mountains of Georgia and the woods of California--he, the teacher and me, with others, the student. The past three weeks have been the same--a holy time of gathering true priorities and releasing roles, expectations and demands.

Brad was large physically and an even bigger presence--not always comfortable to be around--unless, of course, I was comfortable with myself. He held a space for human nobility, and I feel his presence often these days and remember what he said or what someone told me he said.

In Way of a Warrior, one of the More To Life Advanced Courses, Brad taught us that Life comes to us to awaken us to our humanity, authenticity and love-ability. But he told a friend of mine that ultimately, every event in life is awakening us to our love-ablity. Will I receive and give love?--That is the bottom line.

Perhaps I'll call this 'advanced course' I've been in these past weeks--"It is Calling You" and the 'it' would be love. Will I receive and give love when I'm not only gaining a grandson, but also relinquishing my role as caretaker for our daughter, as she steps more fully into herself, her marriage and her motherhood? Will I receive love from Brad, sit in the circle of people who knew him, instead of buying into--"He knew too many, meant too much for me to acknowledge the impact he had on my life." Will I receive and give the love that is pounding away at my defensiveness--with my husband's gentle look and touch, one child's delima, problems at work, or my own belief that I'm somehow left out, not called.

If you have a mentor, sit with that person and listen, and if, like Brad, that one calls you to yourself, to love All that is--sit some more. Love--the great underpinning of Life, the Reality that is God, the calling--and answering that is ours to do or not, every moment--is It.

That Relentless Call

Last August 4, on a Saturday at 1:01 PM, our daughter and son-in-law had Jackson. This picture is of him, right after he was born. To me, he is a miracle--this birth, new life and hope in our midst.

Claud and I sit on the porch most mornings, talking and sharing in a way that we didn't when our children were living with us. Back then we were talking with them, getting them off to school, having breakfast, providing rides or discussions of 'who gets the car anyway?' Now we have the time to talk, and it is both sweet and a little strange, given how we've been with our children.
This morning Claud was talking about all the times he wasn't present with his life, the children, the people around him. You probably know exactly what he meant. I did. And yet, here Life is again in the form of Jackson, still constant, still saying "Wake up!" "Stay present!" This is a relentless call--in the clear, cool mountain air or in the smoke, so heavy from the fires that we sometimes sit inside--It is the same. Will I be present now and now and now--to the child, the coolness, the smoke.

Authenticity

I'm surprised how much of the 'playing it cool' I do is unconscious protection. It's not that I don't like being alone or enjoy getting things done (checking off a task list does release endorphins). I like to plan for the future, to cook a tasty dinner and sit and talk, and there is a part of me that is, without question, action oriented. But I don't always come forward with what I really want---I would rather not even know what I want when I consider rejection.

Right now, as we await the birth of our first grandchild, I am awash with deep feelings---seeing and then not wanting to see the REALITY of life---that everything changes. I feel like the Velveteen Rabbit, as though my false self is being rubbed away and with the coming of my wrinkles is the uncovering of my soul. I see myself more often within the context of my death, and that 'seeing' impacts my relationship with our grown children.

Yesterday I talked with my husband and two of our children about what I want. With age, it's been easier for me to understand what is important to me, and though I have some sadness about the passing of time, I'm glad to have more of my voice and my own willingness to be vulnerable. I want to maintain and deepen connection--not through keeping our large house in which we've raised our children, but through an honest attachment, one that is willing to say yes or no.

I think I'll buy the Velveteen Rabbit. I'm ready to read it now because even though I still love to get things done and to plan, I also glimpse how absolutely vulnerable we all are. I am in that time of life, knowing that people we love die, and they sometimes do that before we think they should, knowing that there is always opportunity to connect and an awe-filled well of true love within us that can reach beyond any accumulation of wealth.

I don't think that the authentic 'Law of Attraction' is about making our lives the way we think we want them. But instead trusting that life itself is after us, always promising the richness and fullness of love. We don't control that with our thinking but it is a given.

A Yoda for Our Children

When our son was thirteen years old, Claud gathered men who were important to him for our boy's initiation ceremony into manhood--a sort of Native American Bar Mitzvah for a child without any cultural heritage on which he could lean. It was an avant garde evening for sure. The men met in the woods, sitting in a teepee together, talking, until our thirteen year old was challenged by them with a predetermined conflict. Our son resolved a racial slur, one man toward another, with surprising acumen--and slept that night alone, on the side of a mountain, explicit instructions in mind. If he arose before sunrise, the snakes would still be sleeping. I'm sure he didn't sleep that night.

Housed within this initiation are elements of the Hero's Journey--
--The call to adventure--A road of trials --Achieving the goal --Returning to the ordinary world --And application of the learning--Rent Star Wars, and you'll see the same: The hero who answers the call to adventure, meets trials--(even that of a father who has chosen the dark path)--achieves his goal and returns to the ordinary world, equipped with an internal knowing.

We love that movie, watch it over and over, consider it a classic. It sold millions of toy Luke Skywalkers, and for years now, Chewbacca has been a part of our mythology. We see ourselves in each character--cheering for that part in us that is both foolish, young and heroic--repelled by the notion of ourselves as the evil Darth Vader who would consume his own. All of this twentieth century tale brought to vivid form in movie theatres is the ancient myth of the journey, and it is loved because it is a story about us.

Our daughter expresses a need for a village in which to raise her boy. There are older women and men who have collected her, expressed their care, initiated her into motherhood with showers and gifts and excitment for what is next. I hope that in the midst of this village, our grandson will find a wise one, not yet known, who will mentor him--some Yoda to offer guidance on his journey, until he knows the same within. And, I wish the same for us all--even believe it possible.

Love

A friend's husband died two days ago. He was in his nineties, certainly old enough to die, but our pregnant daughter cried and cried. She'll have her baby in the next weeks, and she was close to him, having rented his upstairs apartment until recently, seeing him through the course of their lives.



I remember when I was a girl in high school, and my friend introduced me to the concept that with every death, there is a birth. I'm reminded of that now, as we await the coming and going of those we love, this natural flow.



In preparation for their baby, our daughter and her husband have remodeled the house my husband and I lived in when we were their age. We've kept it these twenty-three years as a rental, and it had fallen in disrepair. They've brought it back with color and their care for place. This is where their baby, our grandson will play and rest and teach our own daughter and son-in-law something of love.



Our bereaved friend loved, as she ushered her husband of forty-six years to the other side, washing his body and laying flowers, gently, to say her goodbye. Love is, as I alternately find joy and forgiveness for my own life, lived with some growing wisdom as I acknowledge our human frailty and nobility. I witness love as I sit on my daughter's porch, once my own, watching her burgeoning form, tears falling from her eyes in awe of this coming child and the taking of her place as 'mother'.



I can see through this dim glass that this is our only need--task--requirement, commission--it is only love.

Being Different Doesn't Mean Being Wrong

I am consulting with an up and coming business in Bozeman, providing the latest in Organizational Engineering with the I Opt tool, an assessment that measures how individuals process information. This particular assessment has excellent validity and reliability and was created in 1991 by Dr. Gary Salton. I recommend taking a look.

As I study I Opt, it occurs to me that this particular assessment would be excellent for families. I'm impressed that it reveals the way individuals process information, certainly a major motivator of behavior. What's going on that they do what they do anyway??

Besides describing each individual's processing style (there are four basic ways), I Opt's program can also describe how a team of people will function--the ups, downs, ins, outs. In fact, they can show clients how to build a team that produce specific results. It's a matter of getting the right combination.

So how about it? Along with deciding what color of eyes our children have, couldn't we, once we had them, use the I Opt to 'better understand, measure, predict and guide the behavior' of our families?

For instance, Claud and I are are both the youngest in our original families, and perhaps that's not why, but our parenting styles have sometimes been less organized (yet with the value of creativity) than I wished. What if someone had entered our home and identified how Claud and I processed information, which would have shed light on what was motivating our sometimes scatteredness. Perhaps the I Opt computer would have spit out recommendations about how we might adjust to create a more functional family--or maybe added students from a cultural exchange program to balance us out.

According to I Opt, when an individual processes differently than another, if they don't understand why, they think the other person is wrong! (Sound familiar?) Another comment, that gave me hope, is that this particular tool, not only helps people understand each other, but once they understand, they continue to treat each other differently. What a relief--some acceptance followed by change and walla--better results.

I say all of this as an I Opt Relational Innovator (someone who can make connections out of what others might think are disconnected avenues of thought). And, if you aren't a Relational Innovator too, you might not be able to follow this blog. Just keep in mind that we're different--and that doesn't make either of us wrong.