Anastasia Rosen-Jones (formally Marcia E. Rosen), New Horizons Small “Zones Of Peace” Project Executive Director and Founder.
A personal and professional blog exploring the vision behind the New
Horizons ZOP and how it reflects my journey from blindness to recovery.
“I wear a thousand masks – and all of them are me.”
Anastasia, the storyteller, with editor, Marge Hulburt, prepare for a storytelling event at New Horizons Harpers Ferry Retreat Center, July, 2006.
Anastasia Rosen-Jones (formerly Marcia E. Rosen) is a retired psychotherapist with more than thirty-five years in the mental health field. Now a community development and violence prevention coach, consultant and trainer, she is the author of five books in progress, including "The Middle East Crisis In My Backyard" and numerous articles.
Anastasia makes her home in the mountains above Harpers Ferry where she is happily nested with the birds, the trees and the squirrels. She is at her most fulfilled watching the sunset from the deck of her home -- and/or -- sitting around a campfire in the woods telling and listening to stories.
Our Recovery From Blindness, Emotionally and Spiritually
It is a rare and courageous person who will venture to ask
me what it was like for me to be blind. It is a person who is wise,
emotionally and spiritually, as well as courageous, who will understand when
I speak to them about my experience.
And, it is a truly hardy individual who, along with being
courageous and wise, will understand me, if and when I have the
patience and am willing to risk telling how very much more difficult it was for me
to go through the process of recovering from being blind then was the actual
term of my physical blindness (1998 – 2003).
If you are willing and able to SEE through my eyes, you will become aware that I needed
to learn to be able to see, again, in a very altered reality, not only
physically but emotionally and spiritually with new eyes.
Because I was physically blind at the time of “9/11” this
was particularly challenging.
But not quite yet am I able to tell you what I saw when I
was blind and how that changed how I see all of us; you, me and this brave new world we live in. Not quite yet.
Allow me, for now, to return to the door-opening dialogue I
am having with you, here, on the subject of blindness recovery; the natural,
organically unfolding one we will embark upon next, if you will be courageous
and wise, patient and sensitive.
This one is about the three years it took me (2003 – 2006)
to start learning how to function, even superficially, in a way that would
appear to be “normal” in mainstream life in the U.S.A., beginning in 2003, in post“911” America.
Going blind took me by surprise; it was shocking, indeed. Being
blind was a time-out that “grew” me spiritually. Recovering from being blind,
however, was terrifying; frightening and hard.
You, the people, were almost the hardest of all for me, as I
haltingly stumbled to learn your ways and find a place in your world within
which to fit; to have a mainstream identity, once more. My old ways, like the
clothes I had once worn when last I was a part of you, were outdated. Rip Van
Winkle and I have had a lot in common, I believe.
of it this way:You (and
all the rest of us) are somewhat blind, spiritually and emotionally.
So -- what is/was it like for you to lose your sight,
spiritually and emotionally, if not physically, to the world around you?
What is it like (or has it been like) for you to manage your life
with limited vision?
And, what is it like for you, now, when you make every
effort to see truth and clarity for real, again?