American Jew? Jewish American?

Commentary from Anastasia:

The Former Anti-Semitic, Recovering Jewish American Princess

Putting herself out on a limb, once again.

Here goes.

Am I an American Jew?

Or, a Jewish American?

The question is plaguing me today.

Which is the politically correct way for me to identify myself with this mixed heritage of mine?

Beyond whatever some official statement policy might dictate, which one comes first, Jewish or American, in terms of my identity?

Which one is the true “truth” actually makes a huge difference to me.

But, I ask you, do you know which is the true truth of the matter?

And, what about my “truth”? Where does that fit in here?

I am 100% of Jewish heritage. My immigrant grandparents came to this country from Russia and Rumania (which I generally include in Russia when I wish to be brief though that is not technically, 100% correct).

Still, I rarely, ever identify myself as a Russian Jew.

Actually, I despise being called a “Jew” at all. For me, the word still smacks of being a label, an unsavory one at that.

Now, where did I get that idea?

Nowhere specific that I can place.

Probably just an accumulation of this, that and the other thing.

Life in other words.

(Only once in my life --when I was five or six -- did anyone ever call me a "dirty Jew." And, that little girl, a playmate's little sister, had to apologize to me.)

But here I sit, still having a bit of a charge, after all these years, over the word.

Typically, I acknowledge this “Russian/Jewish” identity of mine only when I speak to others of this same heritage who might do similarly. And, still are able to speak of the "old country." In other words, others who are also carrying this same or similar“mixed heritage” of mine.

Now the question arises in my mind as to when do I get to just simply be an American?

By your standards?

By the dictates of the policy makers?

It is all quite complex.

How do these issues sit with you, if you’ve ever considered them?

Especially in the wake of our forthcoming congressional hearings on Muslim/Americans.

Or are these people really American/Muslims?

Do you know what to make of all this?

I'm sure I don't know.

I do know, however, that the issues that I am presenting, insofar as they relate to me, have some bearing on my only recently resolved, personal, anti-Semitism.

Though I am, 100% of Jewish heritage, I did this to myself, made myself an anti-Semite for decades.

I take full responsibility. I own it. I am the problem!

Still, I am a very smart, well-educated, socially and politically astute woman,

Additionally, I have close to four decades of skill development and experience in overcoming problems of polarization.

So I ask you -- How come there have been no religious, civic channels or federal government sponsored, public dialogues to discuss and help me work this anti-Semitic stance through.

Anti-Semitism has been shown to, potentially, have deadly consequences, you know.

More perplexing, yet quite enlightening, is the fact that my recent resolving of this anti-Semitic “defect” of mine, simply seems to have come to pass by my “naming” my confusion over my Jewish/American or American/Jewish identity on my blog to nameless, faceless “others.”

How very strange!

Indeed. Isn’t that something?

Now as I witness the enormous challenge before us of Muslim/Americans – or – are these citizens of our country really American/Muslims – I ask myself --

What am I?

What are you?

What are we to one another, if we are not the “other”?

And, am I – and --- we – really doing everything we can to get past our “otherness” where it counts (wherever that may be)?

So we can truly be a “unified one” more often than we are presently doing?

I’d really like to get some collective answers to that one.

Thanks for letting me share.

Anastasia At nightfall

Whatever Happened To -- George Barris?

A Story About My Father and George

Every once in awhile I ask myself, “Whatever happened to George Barris?

An important part of my blossoming adolescence, George was, singularly, the only one to whom my father ever paid enough attention to threaten my sense of undefeatable privilege that my father had instilled in me?”

(Here is a clue as to the etiology of my needing to recover from being a Jewish American Princess.)

A recent interview with George, posted online gave me a handy update.

Titled -- George Barris: King of TV's Custom Cars .. the online interview article offered me a fuller picture of George than I had been carrying around in my mind’s storage cabinet of adolescent memories.

There George was held, only, as a starving, relatively young, Hollywood-type artist who showed up at odd hours of the night – to take my father’s focused, concentration on me away.

Believe me, I did not like this at all!

If you know more of the unabridged story of my father and George Barris -- one of those topics that can take awhile to unfold -- you may come to understand how this outrage came to manifest itself in years of reoccurring my dreams about (of all things) blowing up Cadillac dealers’ showrooms.

Even with this short story, however, you may discover a few pieces of my/her-story that explain some of the mystery you presume of me.

I have often been accused of being mysterious – and – apparently my best efforts so far to travel bare-faced (sans any deliberate masking on my part) are not yet enough.

Yes, I was born in Ohio, a bonafide Buckye. I attended my first two years of college at Ohio State, grew up in Hollywood, California (when I was not visiting my mother in Ohio) and have spent my entire adulthood in and around the Washington, D.C. area.

Since geography does account, somewhat, for aspects of personality, this may explain away parts of me that may still seem steeped in enigma for you. I hope so. Transparency is so important to me for our purposes here.

For more on George Barris -- you can read the interview in its entirety for yourself at --- http://www.cnn.com/2011/SHOWBIZ/TV/02/11/george.barris.cars/index.html?hpt=C2

For the benefits of my totally self-seeking intent, only one sentence of the whole interview --

"There were not customizing shops back then," Barris said --

had more than a passing interest for me.

Thus I offer an embellishment of my father's establishing a custom car enterprise,  Custom Corner, circa 1952, at George’s suggestion in the story below.

My dad met George Barris at a car show when George was, probably about 27/28. It was 1952/53. George was a “starving, ”young” artist at the time though he had on display at the auto show one of his early custom car successes, the Golden Sahara.

The story of their meeting and subsequent partnership goes like this –

My dad had gone west to Hollywood to start a new life at my urging.

(My father and I had both needed to get away from my mother’s raging mental illness and relentless abuse in Ohio.)

My father, carrying a hefty bank roll after selling his junk yard business in Elyria, Ohio. soon met up and collaborated in establishing the Custom Corner enterprise with George.

The foundations of the business partnership were my dad’s money and business acumen, George’s ideas for a custom car business -- and -- George’s creativity and contacts in Hollywood.

With some kind of partnership arrangement in place, my father and George opened up Custom Corner which covered most of a city block on Vine Street in Hollywood (operating from 1953-1961?).

The business location was not far from Hollywood and Vine, on the corner of Vine and Willoughby (diagonally across from Desilu Productions who used the Custom Corner lot for extra parking when needed for overflow). I believe the year they began was 1952 or 1953.

George designed in a little house on the lot while my father supplied the custom auto parts for their design projects; many for celebrities or those in related entertainment industry activities among them Liberace’s car.

My father’s Custom Corner showroom was similar to the auto parts showroom he had earlier on Oberlin Road in Elyria, Ohio, only larger. He also had service bays where mechanics did mechanical work and smaller body work jobs.

From the online article, George’s personal story continues on –

Then one day a man from a movie studio who had heard of the hot rods Barris had helped customize and asked if he'd help with a movie called "High School Confidential!" in 1958. His relationship with movies began.

In the early 1960s, CBS asked Barris to come up with a jalopy for a new series called "The Beverly Hillbillies."

George and my father probably split somewhere around this time (1958).

One reason the partnership ended on my father’s end was that my step-mother did not want my father with George.

Probably -- in part -- because of the Hollywood crowd that was part and parcel of the whole business. My “mom” threatened to leave my father, if he continued with George.

As far as I can recollect, my father closed up Custom Corner in the early 1960s and opened a subsequent business in Sherman Oaks. He died in 1976.

There you have it, the beginning of the story of my father and George Barris as I know it; the teen-age adventures of a small town Ohio girl gone to Hollywood. And my lifelong confusion and conflict about what Americans do with their money insofar as automobiles (and status, especially celebrity) are concerned.

Stories about my life in Hollywood, cars, car destroying dreams and I -- to be continued as time and energy allows.

From Anastasia
Watching a gorgeous red cardinal, feeding on one of my bird feeders, outside my office window.

The Spirit of Egyptian Revolution

Shifting Consciousness

I need a personal storytelling experience right about now. On a less intimate level, a storytelling event might do as well.

I need to sit down with a small group of committed individuals such as those which Margaret Mead must have had in mind when she stated –

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."

I need to converse from my mind and heart to those places in others. And, offer prayers of support and gratitude.

I need to speak with likeminded others because what we are now witnessing in Egypt (and with the other nonviolent protesters in the Middle East) is filled with wonder. Thus we are brought to see --

Even a large group of committed individuals can change the world with great networks of communication!

AWE -- inspiring!

I need to communicate with likeminded individuals, converse, dialogue – or any other word you wish to put to the art of conversation that makes a difference.

I need to speak and listen to those likeminded persons who will speak the truth of their hearts, all the way down to its depths.

So we can collectively acknowledge the energies of our spirits and send them out to those who need this with gratitude.

Right now!

I need to communicate with people who will substantiate -- in words -- what is spiritually right in front of our eyes. Though what is being seen, spiritually, cannot readily be described as SEEN.

(Spiritual defined -- that which is physically unseen by the human eye.)

I need to communicate with people who can confirm the facts as I see them (at least to some degree); the fact that what is occurring right before our eyes in Egypt and wherever else non-violent protesters are making progress is, not only a political upheaval, but also a transformation in the consciousness of planet earth, body-mind and spirit.

I had this kind of hunger for meaningful conversation as I was moving through a local, Jewish/Muslim controversy.

As president of a local chapter of a national, Jewish women’s social action group (who actually took no action at all regarding what I viewed as a critical, local crisis), my role was being severely sabotaged.

The rabbi’s leadership was also being sabotaged.

Maybe a new rabbi was needed.

But the method of the people, as the situation intensified, was subtley and not so subtley violent, emotionally.

Inside myself, I was crying as I asked in prayer,

“Do you see what I see?”

My mind and heart bled, even if my body did not.

The episode pained me deeply.

Worse still was my isolation, along with the challenges surrounding me, in that subtley violent, systemic upheaval.

It was an awful experience!

I abhored the lack of dialogue.

That was the worst of it, next to the rabbi-abuse.

Nonetheless, the Small “Zones of Peace” Conversations Project was birthed from this chaos.

I had this hunger, again, for community sharing as I watched the AWE unfolding at Centennial Memorial United Church.

AWE that was achieved --- as a matter of fact – through community conversations.

Again, I silently cried, “Do you see what I see?”

I needed to share, not to affirm my own view of reality, but because the AWE unfolding before my eyes was so obviously filled with wonder.

And, it would be so much grander to share and celebrate with others who could speak the words of the beauty beheld.

But the awe and putting words to the systemic impact was hard to articulate.

At least, not in lay terms.

Again, the limited (though there was some) conversing felt awful.

I am working on writing about it, now, for a professional audience and for this blog.

Still, the experience of awe is hard to describe.

Though this time the experience was about our reaching the peak of the Mountain of AWE -- not sharing and celebrating more fully felt greatly disappointing..

What we are witnessing in Egypt – just the fact of what has been achieved so far -- is in the realm of AWE; a wonder to be shared and celebrated.

Not only through continued social and political analysis and commentary, but simply by taking a minute to be in the silence of AWE.

A paradigm shift has occurred.

Nonviolent, Egyptian protestors have demonstrated how collective action can make social and political change from the bottom up. As opposed from the top down.

We have rarely seen this in REAL time! Since 911, the United States has not managed one single victory in the effort to defeat al Qaeda and other Islamic terrorists that could even come close to what we are witnessing now in Egypt.

Still, Americans with all our freedoms continue to perpetuate polarization, among themselves, rather than collaboration.

We need to pay attention to the systemic remedying now occurring in Egypt – and -- learn from it!

It is a momentous success for the entire planet that we are witnessing in Egypt and throughout the Middle East.

No matter how the politics play out in the immediate.

Recent outcomes are critical beyond words.

They herald a systemic shift in the Middle East that cannot be retracted.

Simply because it is!

Personally, what matters so much to me is that just at a time when many Baby Boomers are going through a “loss of zest,”

Egyptian, nonviolent activists, under life threatening circumstances, are validating that what we began fighting for when we perked up our ears and listened to JFK instruct us to –

“Not ask what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.”

I yearn for a moment of collective prayer and thanksgiving to simply just say thank you to all those courageous, nonviolent activists.

They are showing the rest of the world that bottom up, people power can surpass top down, corrupt power. They are now peaceably fighting for my freedoms as well as their own! My heart is filled with prayer and thanksgiving.

And, this time I am not silent in asking, “Do you see what I see”

I know that you do or you wouldn't have read this far.

So, please respond to my invitation to pause and join the New Horizons Small “Zones of Peace” Project and myself in --

A moment of thanksgiving prayer for the nonviolent protesters in the Middle East -- tomorrow at noon,Friday, February 25,

Just for a minute. We can raise our spirit energies, many times over, wherever we are to help consciously uplift those who are giving so much to their country as well as our own. Just for a minute.

Anastasia

I Know When I Know

I know when I know. Even when I don’t know what I am knowing. Then, mostly, I need to wait for what I know I am knowing to be revealed. So what I knew – first off – as I sat by my/our fire circle that snowy day a few weeks back was that the fire in my soul was flaming.

It was firing up inside of me – almost – more than it had since the day I lost my eyesight. It was as if a life was bursting forth from the deepest part of my soul. It felt new and fresh as if seeing the light of day for the very first time. Yet, it was certainly rooted in an ancient part of me.

I knew that that fire was springing out of the calling of my soul to do my small part to somehow, at least, try to put an end to the mediocrity with which we are presently living. The Arizona shooting in January coupled with the voices of commentary from all parts of the country were speaking out, loud and clear; there must be an end to the political bashing! And, the general, mean-spirited, divisiveness running through our day-to-day lives.

These voices carried a strong message to me, as the fire was called up from my depths. Perhaps, there was one small thing, at least, that I could contribute. And, since there was one, at least -- offer it I must. So, I threw my cap into the ring, sharing my sense of that fire in me with whomever would listen, respectfully. The mediocrity of our society – and – worse its potential for, not only subtle violence, but mortal violence was being, at last, verbally shouted down.

Clearly, the subtle and not so subtle violence was making, not only me, a bit crazy, but, maybe, even the silent majority was now no longer willing to be silent. And, people would now be willing to act! Do something rather than nothing! Perhaps in the light of tragedy, we had – as a society – been brought to the right conditions. And, people would no longer sit still for that which had long grown out of bounds.

For days after that day by the fire, I felt a surge of passion and creativity that became an abiding hunger. Far greater than simple nostalgia. For the days before I lost my eyesight. When a certain skillfulness in me had routinely been able to lead those who chose to be my students into an experience of awe.

I HUNGERED FOR that AWE; a return to that place of community cohesiveness, I had co-created awe, again and again, with others for almost TWENTY-FIVE years before I lost my eyesight (but never my vision,) Through the old New Horizons Truth Or Dare Game -- there had been a regular, community coming together where awe was the expected and achieved outcome.

(In monthly Game retreat week-ends and weekly Game support groups.)

As passion, creativity and a yearning for something old that could be remodeled into something new and beautiful carried me forth, I began to envision that what had been might just be viable now -- beyond what had been before.

Now I know that I want to go back to that old New Horizons Truth Or Dare Game (formerly the Discount Derby) and the strong sense of healthy community it fostered. I miss that old part of me. The old folks with whom I shared this awe.

I want it back, now! In a new way for the evolved me – and – the new conditions of our present circumstances; massive polarization throughout our country while at the same time we try to fight terrorism from outside forces. And, because I am blessed with a wonderful, supportive community; my own, personal small “zone of peace,” my hunger is now being respectfully acknowledged – and – addressed.

Thus I sit at my desk, now, up here in the mountains, with only a single, annoying stink bug on my window (one is good -- we are infested by them) obstructing (and then only a little) my view of AWE – A new game is now on my drawing board, out of the old New Horizons Truth or Dare Game. Maybe we’ll call it --

The Climbing To Awe GAME:
an interactive game of empowerment and transformation

Your comments – and – co-creation are invited. Stay tuned in for the progess.

The Fire In My Soul

See that all-“bundled up for winter” being, sitting in the snow by a warm outdoor fire?

That be a cartoon ME.

And, the little guy? That be a cartoon of one of my three feral cats who will not let me any closer than in that cartoon -- unless I have food in my hands.

Poor things.

I know not where they live when they are not in my dog house trying to keep warm.

Sue and I have placed a pile of blankets out there for them. So far, so good.

(Animal rights advocates, please know that so far I have not found a safe way to capture these cats and get them spay/neutered. I can’t even get close enough to them in a safe way to know yet whether they be male or female. Capturing feral cats is not a strength of mine. Others who come up here that are adept at cat relationships, such as Sue, haven’t risked it either.)

Personally, I do much better dealing BIG CATS!

(i.e. I could go toe-to-toe with a “having made a decision to recover,” hard core addict or convict (under the right conditions, mind you)

than I can with these little cat guys. Like a lion tamer or exorcist.

One of the rules being mutual agreement to be vulnerable, seeking spiritual transcendence.

Many stories here to tell on this subject.

I just got back in from a shovel-fest with three of my kindly friends who made their way up here into the mountains to help dig my car out of the foot or so of snow that disabled most of us the past few days.

On the way back to the house I stopped at the sacred fire circle on this retreat center’s land where I also live. Buried in snow though it is, I thought, even a few minutes out there would help me some to find my way -- through meditation and contemplation -- to a new level of sanity that I am presently seeking.

I’ve been feeling frustrated to the max lately (particularly since the Arizona shooting a few weeks back.)

The mediocrity of our society – and – worse its potential for, not only subtle violence, but mortal violence is making me a bit crazy.

I know! I know! You feel it too!

On a small scale (under 100 or so folks at a time) I know how to do better, much better.

And, successfully guide vital community transformation.

(Like the ”awe” we, collectively, created at Centennial.)

Right conditions. Right people.

Totally opposite from our local Jewish/Muslim controversy. Almost everything wrong there for me. Many lessons. Win or learn. Name of the game.)

Before blindness the word was out around me that if “she (meaning me --- Marcia/Anastasia) can’t cure ‘em, nobody can.” 

I liked that skillfulness in me that came by way of the wonderful mentors I’ve had.

The old New Horizons Truth Or Dare Game is top of the line -- my best way to help.

And, it’s as viable now, I am coming to realize, as it was back then.

Now I know (I didn’t even a few days ago) that I want to go back to that old New Horizons Game (in a new way, of course). I miss that old part of me.

And, that old part of my life. Sometimes, we just need to go “home.” But – in a new way for the evolved me – and – the new conditions of our present circumstances (i.e. massive polarization throughout our country while at the same time we try to fight terrorism from outside forces.)

How dumb can you be?

Fighting inside your professed “zones of peace” when externally your very boundaries are threatened.

(Mental health problems are another issue here. But not unrelated.)

Yesterday the hunger for a neglected part of me – Game Master of the New Horizons Truth or Dare program) -- burst forth.

This is the me that knows the gratification -- actually the awe -- of community connectedness and synergy at its most supreme.

Exceptional people. Creating exceptional communities.

I am sooooo frustrated!

I do not know how to get from here to there so I can contribute my small part.

So, yesterday and today, I started sharing my burning frustrations and yearnings with a few friends.

You know what it got me?

Three caring, generous friends to help dig my snow buried car out from under.

Isn't that the cat's meow!

Tomorrow, perhaps, we chop wood. Carry water.

I’ll keep you posted.

Thanks, Jami, Micki and husband.

Storytelling As A Path To Peace

I felt emotionally drained and vulnerable after I had written and posted my last blog.

I had publicly acknowledged parts of myself that seemed risky to make known. And, I wasn’t exactly sure I liked what I had done.

I had publicly confessed to traveling back and forth between two worlds; the physical and the spiritual. Being blind had brought that gift to me to live on a day-to-day basis.

Not just on an occasional Sunday visitation or as a focus of my High Holidays.

However, I had put myself out on a limb, telling my story of how being blind had made a shaman of me. And, I was not quite certain how I liked that bare nakedness in public.

Once said (or in this case posted) I could not take it back. Yet, somehow, by virtue of this proclamation, I had, once again let go of one of the thousand masks I wear that are me which had been my intent, originally, in writing this blog.

So here it was now!

I think the many months I have spent writing this blog, coupled with a multitude of behind-the-scenes conversations that ensued, regarding both the content and process of what I had put forth, has brought me to a point of public authenticity I had lost by being blind.

On the other hand, I think now perhaps, that I may never have possessed this level of sincerity before at all. 

Maybe I imagined that I had. But I was wrong.

It seems more likely, on second thought that I have made a choice, now, to come out of some protective hidey hole I had been, unawarely, maintaining. 

So it seems that by committing myself to doing this blog, I have created a situation in which to be far bolder that I had anticipated.

Now what?

Strange, isn’t it to be a strong proponent of storytelling as a path to peace, and then find oneself caught up short in the process of storytelling? Needing to come clean in unexpected ways?

One of my daughters, Lorrie -- (one of the half-dozen or so honorary kids I have) -- still loves for me to tell her stories though she is a grown adult woman – and – a mother herself. She even enjoys my reading her fairy tales from time to time. (I like it too when we do that.)

Up here in the mountains where I live (at the retreat center that is one major work in progress) my happiest times are storytelling times.

How is that the same or different than the storytelling I am doing on this blog?

Or, the storytelling we do in our primary Small “Zones of Peace” Conversations format?

I am not certain.

As I contemplate these questions, I am challenging myself, asking --

 "How can I find the means here to, authentically, tell the most important stories I have to offer as lessons in peace-building? And still maintain some privacy for myself?

How much privacy? How much to reveal?"

Particularly the stories that prompted my writing this blog in the first place? 

Stories  from which to offer teachable moments that I have been struggling for months to tell?

Up until now, these stories do not get told. I speak around them. But I never get to them.

Insight:  Maybe storytelling -- at least the way that I know to be profound for me -- the way I can best employ storytelling as a path to peace -- is not a performance that can be informative -- or entertaining -- in a blog kind of way.

Maybe real storytelling -- for me -- is an intimate experience and exchange of real people speaking to one another, face-to-face, in a space that has been made Safe.

Maybe that kind of storytelling cannot be replicated on the internet. 

Not now or ever! I'll just need to see.

The internet is still new to me, having been limited by my blindness, just as it was becoming an everyday thing for most others.

So, for now, I am concluding that  until we are able to meet, person-to-person in real time, I guess I am stuck with my struggling to tell my important tales -- with their meritorious peace-building lessons: my stories behind – “The Middle East Crisis In My Backyard;” “The Pastors, Two Ministries, One Church and My Experience of Awe;” the two maps to peace that are the bedrock of my life and my work. 

I do not see any easy alternatives, yet.

Maybe there are none. 

Nonetheless, limited as the internet is -- what I have discovered for myself, by telling my stories here is this:

1. After a bit more than six months writing this blog, I no longer feel like I am doing so much wearing of masks – here or elsewhere.

2. I am much less a hermit now than I was when I was blind (and before when I was intent (1988 – 1998) on my almost ceaseless book deadlines) – and – I really do like the way this feels. 

3. And, I did come clean about my being a former anti-Semitic, recovering Jewish American Princess and I love the peace within myself and in the world I am experiencing around me because of it.. That was HUGE for me; and

4. I have learned a great deal from reminding myself of the words of Dore, the fish in “Finding Nemo,” – “Just keep swimming.”

So I hope my revelations here do not put me in too much hot water.

Storytelling as one of my paths to peace is working for me.

While, perhaps. you are out there are playing it safe?

With the thousand masks you wear? All of which are you.

Could this be true for you?

Limited as this internet is for real people, building real peace, in real time, I will do my best to keep my commitment to "swimming," writing, hiking or whatever.

So far, so good. Storytelling is a path to peace for me.

From Anastasia, the Storyteller
In the mountains on a snowy January day

Being Blind Made A Shaman Of Me

Being blind made a shaman of me; a person who has learned to travel back and forth between two worlds; the physical world and the mystical or spiritual.

The New Horizons’ Small “Zones of Peace” Project as I designed it with the collaboration of my colleague, Sue deVeer, evolved its format because of this ability of mine.

Losing my eyesight and being visually impaired for eight years (1998 – 2006) was traumatic.

It was also transformative.

I consciously chose this path of transformation for two reasons.

First, it came naturally to me. And, secondly, it was the only way I could find to survive the ordeal I was going through and its associated consequences and life changes.

Once my vision was restored (with contact lenses I now have 20/25 in one eye and 20/45 in the other) through the medical miracles of seven eye surgeries, it then took me another five or so years to, again, learn to navigate the “normal” world.

One thing that made my return particularly dramatic was that I lost my eyesight before “9/11” and returned after it. The world I SAW when I returned was, thus, very changed.

Still an extended time of severe vision impairment would, no doubt, present anyone with an experience like that of Rip Van Winkle, asleep for twenty years -- an inordinate challenge.

Recovery from extended blindness is very difficult in many ways.  

The movie At First Sight, a true story based on an essay by noted neurologist Oliver Sacks, starring Val Kilmer, poignantly depicts some of the most common struggles of a man, blind since early youth, regaining his eyesight in his forties.  

The challenges, as played out in the movie,  are strongly exacerbated as there are almost no professional guides for managing the trauma of having restored eyesight, after extended blindness.  Relatively few people, to date, have made this transition, recovering from extended blindness, such as the moving portrays. Medical advances in the area of vision restoration after extended blindness are still in their infancy.

In fact, statistics indicate that better than one-third of those who have had their sight restored after a period of extended blindness, walk with their eyes closed and/or elect to sit in the dark.

Imagine that reality to help explain why the circumstance of recovery from extended blindness is so -- is complex!

And, more than worthy of multiple in depth conversations.  

Many stories to tell. But who wants to listen?

The whole of the subject; blindness and severe vision impairment, is a wide-ranging topic from both physical and psychological perspectives. 

I wish, now, that I'm beginning to open myself to being a storyteller that people would want to know my story of this. It would probably help me so much to share it.

My friend, Sarah Blake, who has spent most of her life blind (with several episodes of being able to see) has surveyed the subject matter and delineated much that can be useful to the lay person. Check out Sarah’s web site at: http://blindness.growingstrong.org/ for revealing details on a variety of issues, including family and social concerns, the blind person’s self-perception etc. and more.

Sarah is now an ordained minister, working specifically with the disabled. She has been a crucial support for me as I’ve moved through my own vision recovery process. Her knowledge base and the wisdom she imparted to me as I traveled the rocky path of what is essentially a no-man’s land; transitioning between the unseeing to the seeing, has almost been life saving at times. It was truly a case of “the blind leading the blind.”

In this situation it worked marvelously. This was especially so as Sarah knowledge and skill as a guide is rare. There are almost no agencies or trained counselors anywhere in the world that one can approach with the very desperate plea – ‘

’Help me recover (emotionally and psychologically) from blindness. Help me regain the losses I have accrued and find a place for myself in the normal world.”

Sarah, however, could and did generously guide me at times. Counseling, guidance and support in the area of recovery from extended blindness is a whole new, uncharted territory.

It has not been developed yet as, worldwide, recovery is still a relatively rare and unusual occurrence, still only in its infancy, medically.

What I brought back from my own personal experience, based on how I chose to handle my traumatic loss of sight, is the distinctive capacity to know how to traverse this recovery terrain (particularly as I am also a trained and experienced psychotherapist) as well as a unique slant on peace-building. Likely made more so because of the circumstances of “911.”

A gift was bestowed on me that came to me of abilities I developed through losing and regaining my eyesight. I now have the capacity to travel back and forth with ease between two worlds, the physical and the spiritual. And to, also, be a bridge for others between them

If you visit the New Horizons’ Small Zones of Peace” blog site and follow the line of reasoning presented through it, you will likely see this traveling of mine back and forth between two worlds, reflected in the philosophy underlying what is offered there. The capacity to visualize the peace we humans could create is truly a gift I received from my ordeal.

You will also see on this blog site how this perpetual journeying of mine has brought me to SEE things rather differently in general.

A few of key words to note on both blog sites are:

awe and my reference to snakes or snakey behaviors as challenges to the building of peace.

Both words particularly depict this constant traveling of mine. And, how this resource of mine can best serve. To be continued ...