Saving a Life and Constant Loss – John Calvi April 2019

 

A few ideas have been swirling in my mind for some time now and maybe it’s this late night in the cold early spring that finally brings these ideas together to make a whole.  I will have to write for a while to see what comes.

 

I’ve been thinking about saving a life, the large and small ways this happens.  The large and obvious ways – the surgeon carefully doing her work, the medicines that took so long to create, and the fireman bringing out the last one from the burning house.  These we know in critical times and witness our strongest hopes realized.

 

Then there are the small ways in which lives are saved.  These tend to be cumulative and perhaps small at the time.  But they, none-the-less, account for the ability to continue, perhaps when all seems lost.  That one adult who speaks to the injustice of a child, the teacher who sees the obstacles to a student’s learning and poses just the right question to commence a liberation from a burden too few were aware of – these are also lifesaving.  And perhaps more numerous in day-to-day life than the larger forms.  Collectively, they make a bridge to the next day and the next. A life is saved from the perspective of only loss, only despair, and only expecting the worst.

 

These two forces are in constant motion, relentless and causing the renewal of hope and possibility.  They collect and gather to make a foundation for belief, action, and philosophy.  And such things are seductive and intriguing. 

 

Martin Luther King claiming - “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” is a powerful idea that we hope to be true with all our hearts.

 

This is energy for the long haul of hard work, the hard work of justice seeking, of peacemaking, of healing all manner of pain and confusion.  We need it for the road, for doing the impossible.  We lean into it like the strong arms of the elder, of faith, of safe space and time.

 

Another reality is also in constant motion, relentless insistence, and universally experienced all at the same time and this is constant loss.  Not everyone is saved by the surgeon, or the medicine, or from the burning building.  Not everyone finds the teacher, the elder who knows just what to ask.  Some people are lost to the terrible wounds of life and can’t go on.  It’s hurts too much to know, to feel, to witness.  This may bring layers of death from the total loss of life to the small tight little perspective where no joy is allowed, no mercy lies on the horizon, what has been taken is lost beyond what feels possible to grieve and recover from.  This reality also creates belief, action, and philosophy that are as sturdy and strong as any made by humans.

 

These two ideas feel to be opposites and indeed their results clash against one another in every aspect of personal and public life.  Having straddled both in my own life and seen this in so many others, I cannot claim that one is more real or less honest than the other.  Both are true and clear, both have meaning and entire cultures based around them like foundations and fortifications.

 

Your experience – meaning what happens and how you respond – can put you in both camps and the confusion maybe the most common confusion of all people.

 

So, what’s to be done?  The answers are numerous at all times and in all cultures.  There are stories telling us to be brave, to believe one way or another, to batten down the hatches, to open our hearts, to give it over, and to expect nothing better.  And no doubt you may be engaged in just that practice right now as you read this- the belief that has carried you this far is….  But what of the pain that belief doesn’t cover, the pain underlying all no matter what?

 

Were there one simple answer for each person, it would have been found by now.   I would love to tell you that thinking this or believing that, taking this action, or that path is the one sure way to relieve the conflict between the lifesaving we know and the heart stopping pain we also carry.

 

I do know about refuge and making safety.  I know about attending to the immediate for recent hurt and old hurt that has been released to the surface.  But here I am talking about the life long conflict of the deep experience of living and how it might be carried, how it might be pondered.

 

Only one pattern occurs to me – know as much of all of it as can be known over time and be in awe.  I have seen the meaning of the birth of a child and the delirious joy this brings.  I have also seen the loss of a child, which is the most difficult grief in the world.  Or perhaps it’s the matter of true love discovered, received, lived in lushly like the perfect home found in one another and then comes the end – be it death or betrayal, it’s gone, always and forever.  These two possibilities live together closely for everyone in the world.  One cannot be secured without the other becoming a possibility, that’s just the nature of a difficult reality no one wants to ponder.

 

Whether these remain one reality and the other a possibility or whether both become known- they can only be survived by living with and knowing both, plus being in awe of how stunning, how beautiful, and how fragile the whole thing is.

 

Some of you have stopped reading because it’s too awful to imagine until it’s absolutely necessary.  But one way to be careful of life is to know this stunning bit of creation is more fragile than we can know and that we do not have ultimate power over what comes, terrible as that idea is.

 

Using less drastic ideas, what do I mean by knowing and awe?  To feel feelings deeply and have them in plain sight, even if only briefly, before doing the more typical human response of contracting all feeling, thinking, and actions in the face of great pain– can save our minds and the paths of healing from long lost wanderings in the rest of our lives.

 

Feeling deeply, allowing the feelings the space and time needed to know what we carry can be difficult work.  Generally, the effort and circumstances necessary are very individual.  What do you need to feel loss deeply?  Do you need to cry?  Or tell the story?  Or be angry?  For the most part, this isn’t taught anywhere.  It’s a kind of freedom given a bit more in some cultures than others.  And in some places, it’s not allowed children at all.  Do we remember that children are our emotional equals?

 

And being in awe?  What madness could this possibly mean when all is lost?  Right, this is hard to know, to hear, to practice, I know.  If we can take a moment, maybe not right away, or today, or any time soon, after some monster has shown up in life to wound us greatly and stand back and ponder the great circle of life.  Maybe think of our entire life thus far and see this part as one piece in a much larger creation that continues, we might, if we are not hurting too much in the immediate, be able to be in awe of what has happened and if the sun is shining, perhaps, to glimpse it’s meaning.

 

Does hurt have meaning beyond just hurting?  Yes, but it’s easier to see this later.  Maybe it’s even a good idea to be old.  Surviving a long time, looking back on something from the calm quiet of today may allow us to see that pain is always more than just pain.  It might be awful and stay that way and cause us to spit at the thought of it ever.  There is also the chance we know what it meant in our lifetime and thereby relieve some of its intensity, another reason to be old – this all takes a while.

 

So, there it is- life is beautiful and hurts, sometimes beyond what we think we can bear.  There are probably ways to survive the hurt, but the underlying stuff contrasts with the goodies in life.  This is confusing in a long term way that tends to be quiet rumbles of doubt beneath our daytime smiles.  One needs enough time, space, and quiet to be with such things- to know they are more than they appear to be at first.  Our response can vary over time, so that hurt can become less.  That’s good to know.

 Still Melvin – Jan 2012

 

Out of the blue comes email from my old high school friend, Melvin Ash.  I haven’t seen him in decades.  We were the Viet Nam Moratorium Committee of 1970 in our little New England town of 3,000 people.  We held a peace rally after school- 10 people came.  We had a candlelight march ending with readings at the big white church – 6 people came.  I played guitar and lead singing.  Melvin found the readings and the news stories more truthful than the main media.

 

One spring day all juniors and seniors were herded into the high school gym for the military recruiters to pitch their enlistment deals.  This was unannounced.  We had no plan.  After they explained all the good reasons we should join they asked for questions.  I had two brothers already in Viet Nam and had been preparing my conscientious objectors statement.  Melvin asked why they needed so many soldiers, was it as if all the nations were against us?  They are against us said the Marine recruiter.  That’s really paranoid, said Melvin.  I said we were young and didn’t want to fight and die since we were only 18.  Nobody wants to die, said the Army recruiter.  Then tell us what we really want to know, I said, tell us how to stay out of the military.

 

Well, mouths fell open like we had suggested everyone walk naked down Main St.  Some students and teachers didn’t speak to us.  The recruiters thought we were traitors to our country and spoiling their work, which was on commission. Some of those kids did sign up and never came home again.  Most got deferments from college or military manufacturing. We were satisfied that we had responded honestly to the war machine snatching up young lives.

 

And now decades and several wars later comes news that he and his son were part of Occupy Oakland and were beaten and gassed by the police while running.  How little has changed.

 

He is an artist and illustrates his own books.  He is the author of The Zen of Recovery, Shaving the Inside of Your Skull, and Beat Spirit.  He is the one who said, Let’s go to Quaker Meeting.  And here I am 44 years later at home among Quakers. And all this time later we are still pushing to the left, away from the madness of war, towards spiritual life. Some friends make such history. 

 Pretty Addict      John Calvi    November 2018

 

As I went into the store, I saw him crumpled on the sidewalk in a corner of store windows.  He had a hood pulled over his head and a small backpack.  I wondered then if I could buy him some food.  When I came out of the store, he was standing with his back to me.  He turned to face me and drew back the hood.  Can you help me out? he said.  

 

He was young and Hollywood handsome.  The eyes, the cheekbones, the jawline – the combination was stunning, flawless.  Do you need some food, I asked?  I need food, drugs, and cash he said seriously delivering this line straight into my eyes.  I laughed at his bold debauchery.  And when I laughed, he smiled.  I had gone off script, but he brought us back.  I could go with you, he said.  It was the perfect line for seduction and blameless adventure.

 

I don’t know his favored drugs, but clearly, he was late in getting them and ready to hustle.  He’d picked out a fat old queen coming out of the thrift shop to make his deal with.  But he was decades late.  In my very young days, I would have believed anything such a pretty face told me, believed and hoped to kiss that beauty soon as my part in the deal.

 

But this old queen has seen the pretty boys turned into wrecks of illness and dementia, empty and confused by the habit of addictions.  Not to mention the old queens who said yes and made a tear in their own lives, sometimes irreparable.  This was not going to be a sale.

 

Again, I looked at his face – amazing beauty.  His clothes revealed just enough muscle in slightly tight clothes, not too brazen, masculine.  I wondered was he from one of the gay porno shoots in another part of this valley?  Had he lost his employment along with his balance, using his beauty to stay high?  It was a hell of a trap.

 

While I was staring at his beauty, a voice in the back of my mind said, even a pretty addict is just another addict.  I couldn’t think of a way to help.  I don’t know anything about treatment in this desert valley and he clearly was not looking for healthcare.  I said I couldn’t help him and walked away.  

 

And hours later I am thinking of him and the guys I’ve met in prisons, in the AIDS wars, and on the streets.  What will the next part of the story look like?  He finds a fellow hedonist and has a great night followed by another painful morning?  He sleeps outside and is gay bashed, maybe to death?  He is tricked into treatment by a cop who later wants to date?  Yes, the pretty gets into my imagination too, always has.

 Did It All Fall Apart Today?  John Calvi Feb 2020

 

Did it all fall apart today?  Did the worst come down on you like fire and hell and rocks all at once?  Did you ever think it would be so bad?  So awful?  So full of terrible?

 

We watch for bad things, we do.  We suspect some bad things, but never this bad, never this hard and hurtful.  We don’t expect devastation.  We don’t expect the worst and then have to live through it.

 

The hurt is so bad, it looks like there’s no safe place.  Nowhere to hide from these feelings.  No way to think about it all.  We shake our head and wonder can it really be so?  Did this really happen?  I can’t look at all of it.  Is it true?  We’ve had pain before and disappointment and close calls.  But this is a direct hit and we never saw it coming.

 

Do people live through this?  Does one go on?  How?  Don’t tell me one foot in front of the other.  Don’t tell me you know how it feels.  I don’t even know how it feels because it’s all too much.

 

Did you see this?  Did you know it was there?  I can’t imagine knowing any of this ahead.  It rips out the heart and takes your breath away and suddenly you are floating in midair with no idea how to touch earth again.

 

I can’t breath.  I can’t think. I don’t know if I can move. How does one keep going?  Are there words to know?  Will I ever see light again?  Do I want to live?

 

Here’s a glass of water.  I’ll sit with you.  Take a deep breath.  We don’t have to do anything right now.  I’m here with you.  I’ll listen.  When you’re ready to move, I’ll help you.

 A Bunny Story Retold – John Calvi Sept 14 2020

 

A hundred years ago, back in the 90’s, a client would call for comfort.  She was a ritual abuse survivor, survived torture as a young child in a cult, and as a result had multiple personalities.  

 

She would call and we’d talk a bit, then she’d say- The little ones, the much younger personalities who didn’t speak directly to me, would like a story.  So began my telling the Bunny Stories.  They were well loved and a comfort to troubled young ones.

 

Once I was out teaching somewhere across the country and a call came in from another ritual abuse survivor.  Marshall took the call and there was a good deal of screaming and hysteria as she had jumped back into the time frame of remembering/suffering anew.

 

Marshall tried and tried to talk her down and at last in desperation said – would you like to hear a bunny story?  There was a long pause – this was not the same client, after all.  And then she sheepishly said, ok.  And he told her a bunny story and she left a bit confused but calmer.

 Touch – John Calvi  March 2020

 

I want to say somethings about touch- to remind you how important touch is, especially during this time of not touching.  I am speaking with some authority as one with thirty-eight years of experience as a touch professional, a Certified Massage Therapist specializing in trauma.

First, a few basics.  People need touch.  No really!  This is serious.  The absence of touch can be the basis for clinical depression.  Humans depend on touch to feel connected, joined to, engaged with others.  Even in cultures where touch must only be done privately, there are ways that touch is allowed to meet needs of all.

We’ve known for a long time that mothers breastfeeding a child have a release of oxytocin, a hormone that relaxes babe and mom deeply.  We’ve recently found out that every person experiences a release of oxytocin whenever they are touched – the difference being that people have varying amounts of that release.  Those huggy people we all know- big releases.

Touching yourself is an important technique known for keeping you informed of your body’s health and well-being.  Running your hands over your skin can tell you where skin might be dry, pimply, or bruised.  Scratching your back or scalp can bring increased circulation and increase relaxation.  Running your fingers through your hair at bedtime is an old tradition to help the mind slow down for sleep time.

Here’s some touch that can be done with another or on your own.  Foot massage before bed- put two drops of oil or lotion in the palms of your hand and rub together.  Now do a long stroke with your palms facing each other and draw your hands together, squeezing the whole foot from toes to heel and back again – as though you are squeezing the water out of a wet hunk of clay.  Next – pinch the heel- using your thumb and index finger squeeze around the edge of the heel and rub the base.  Now- using your fingertips – make three lines of small circles going from the bottom of the foot just above the heel to the toes.  Three lines – outside, middle, inside of the sole of the foot.  Next – beginning just above the heel, using your fingertips, make a line of small circles across the foot outside to inside.  Then another line above that and another, until you reach the base of the toes.  Next – squish and pull on each toe, wrapping your fingers around each one.  Then go back to that first step with your palms facing each other and stroking the length of the foot back and forth like squeezing the water out of wet clay.  And that’s it!  Do that on one foot and then notice of difference your feet feel from one another.  One will feel alive and the other will be saying ME TOO!  This is a very good habit to improve sleep (include drinking a big glass of water).

It seems there is a lot of touch early in life and less and less as time goes by.  When a new baby comes into a family, there is a rush to hold that child and great delight in doing so for both child and lucky adult.  Touch changes as we grow old. And there can be a lack of touch for the oldest of us.  That can be taken care of with a big hug when greeting and departing.  It’s an important matter of physical and mental health.

During this time of “social distancing” we must be careful.  Everyone who adheres to this discipline around this new virus will likely be saving lives – their own and others.  But some of us are isolating with other people and touch that is respectful and compassionate should continue as before.  Don’t let fear come between us when it’s unnecessary.  Touch, hold on, get close and remember this connection can help each one get through this time of unknows and so many deaths.  Wash your hands?  Of course.  Lots!  AND make sure there is enough touch to bring yourself connection and body awareness.

 Pandemic Miscellaneous   April 2020  John Calvi

 

I’m standing in line, 6’ apart, outside our food coop.  This store is only allowing 50 people in at a time – when someone comes out, someone else can go in.  The line is moving very slowly.  The woman in from of me is much older.  I can feel she is now in pain for standing so long, her left hip.  When she becomes first in line, we are still waiting a long time, with people exiting the store, but not letting her in.  In an act of charity barely covering my impatience, I implore the young man attending the door – Please let this woman in now, she’s old and standing in line so long has become painful for her.  He does not take my suggestion.  The woman turns to me and sheepishly says, I am old.  Then she turns back to me with a quizzical look and says – My hip IS hurting.

 

A friend from Korea bring us two face masks that are equal to the recommended protection for hospital workers.  Her sister has mailed them from South Korea and after outfitting her family in Massachusetts, she’s driven to Putney to make this lifesaving gift to us.  She leaves them in the entry way on the floor and attempts to leave without seeing us.  We rush out to the entryway and thank her profusely as she stands in the rain ten feet from us.  We are all laughing and loving this moment of kindness and connection.  Marshall and I helped with her wedding and I was present for the births of both her children.  Then I wear this wonderful new gift to the post office.  I know it works immensely better than inferior mask for construction I found in the shed, because I can hardly breath!  Any particle that gets through this barrier will be truly minor.

 

My old friend is old and her health conditions make her much too vulnerable to meet this virus.  I’ve been doing some shopping for her.  Recently I sent an email asking what she needed.  She replied- Can’t have too much chocolate! I pull up to the house with two large fancy dark chocolate bars and set them on the well head.  She calls from her outside deck – The Coop has two bags of my groceries that got lost for the morning, please bring them to me.  I did and brought them into the house because she should carry nothing more than five pounds.  She’s bleached the counter where the two bags go and will antiseptically deal with each package in the bags.  She’s ten feet away and we laugh at how absurd our lives are now without hugs and lots more bleach.

 

We live on a land trust of 105 acres with five households and 13 people.  There has been a weekly dinner with us all since forever.  I am missing cooking for everyone very much and catching up on the news of each person.  Our houses are not close.  Some we could holler to, but not others.  There have been some driveway meetings, catching up briefly.  Yesterday there was Zoom meeting of the neighbors including their children spread all over the land.  The most fun for me was seeing the grandchildren making faces into the camera and watching themselves.  Big fun.  I am collecting some art materials for two of those households with young children now.