Last Autumn, I wrote a haiku late at night:
Shattered, we lose sight.
Chasing the restless answer.
Sun rises soon, rest.
Coming round from a sort of episode between current events with U.S. immigration policy, I've been thinking about the effects of complex PTSD and the patterns that appear during an episode after the major traumatic incidents -- by the way, to anyone reading who might be sensitive to heavy topics like this, what I'm writing might not be for you to read.
How many people, including many friends and colleagues, appear to function in society, show up to work, and either get ostracized, shunned, or simply choose to cope in isolation so that they don't appear in public because they could be a danger to other people?
It feels like there's a part of life that's getting cheated in trade for some semblance of safety. Yet courage often happens at the threshold of comfort and necessity, and living life fully to overcome that existential shearing point normally means eventually choosing to move forward consistently enough that you don't let your perceptions of life collapse on itself. So we decide to push, we show up for other people and execute as high performers when we can see it really counts as long as we can focus on looking forward outside of ourselves. But when it comes to connecting with who we are and directing care inward, it's often a failing point. Someone who works with impeccable precision and attention to detail when intervening with crisis shuts down for days or, if they're isolated, weeks and months under normal circumstances.
There's a haunting word sitting firmly in my memory from part of the *internet version* Hopi Prophecy about people who are born with "sampacu -- no light in their eyes" -- I think about how the children of substance abuse, kids who grew up or the effects of young children separated from their parents as a result of the way our nation's current immigration policy is interpreted and enforced. People who self-medicate with cannabis, alcohol, or other substances also come to mind--where the goal is to slow oneself down enough that they numb the anxiety or edges of life's pains.
You probably have a stereotype or image in your head from seeing movies or reading articles that portray the condition in its extremes--flashbacks, someone reacting violently without reading the situation well, etc.--but what happens when someone is functionally working through an episode while working in the midst of other people that I think is underrepresented.
It shows up in subtle ways, maybe illogical spurts and fits in disproportionate response to another person's current or past actions which one thought they left buried long ago only to realize they've incubated the same alertness to similar kinds of pain.
For the individual experiencing those symptoms, it can feel like stepping into an intense stance is compelling and necessary. In some ways, it very well may be--at least if they're able to examine and understand how the dynamics of their present episode echoes unhealed moments in their past. The truth, with proper context, is always good. Yet when it burns brightest, it's often challenging for most people to engage it in its rawest state--there's too much to fit in a brief conversation, meeting, or decision. So the proper context will ultimately become one of your own making, and I like to believe that it sometimes comes after the fact that you may or may not have burned people during your efforts to illuminate the roots of your reality while simultaneously igniting the debris that hampered your capacity to genuinely engage others who may be near with clarity and truth from your being.
Shattered, we lose sight.
Chasing the restless answer.
Sun rises soon, rest.
Coming round from a sort of episode between current events with U.S. immigration policy, I've been thinking about the effects of complex PTSD and the patterns that appear during an episode after the major traumatic incidents -- by the way, to anyone reading who might be sensitive to heavy topics like this, what I'm writing might not be for you to read.
How many people, including many friends and colleagues, appear to function in society, show up to work, and either get ostracized, shunned, or simply choose to cope in isolation so that they don't appear in public because they could be a danger to other people?
It feels like there's a part of life that's getting cheated in trade for some semblance of safety. Yet courage often happens at the threshold of comfort and necessity, and living life fully to overcome that existential shearing point normally means eventually choosing to move forward consistently enough that you don't let your perceptions of life collapse on itself. So we decide to push, we show up for other people and execute as high performers when we can see it really counts as long as we can focus on looking forward outside of ourselves. But when it comes to connecting with who we are and directing care inward, it's often a failing point. Someone who works with impeccable precision and attention to detail when intervening with crisis shuts down for days or, if they're isolated, weeks and months under normal circumstances.
There's a haunting word sitting firmly in my memory from part of the *internet version* Hopi Prophecy about people who are born with "sampacu -- no light in their eyes" -- I think about how the children of substance abuse, kids who grew up or the effects of young children separated from their parents as a result of the way our nation's current immigration policy is interpreted and enforced. People who self-medicate with cannabis, alcohol, or other substances also come to mind--where the goal is to slow oneself down enough that they numb the anxiety or edges of life's pains.
You probably have a stereotype or image in your head from seeing movies or reading articles that portray the condition in its extremes--flashbacks, someone reacting violently without reading the situation well, etc.--but what happens when someone is functionally working through an episode while working in the midst of other people that I think is underrepresented.
It shows up in subtle ways, maybe illogical spurts and fits in disproportionate response to another person's current or past actions which one thought they left buried long ago only to realize they've incubated the same alertness to similar kinds of pain.
For the individual experiencing those symptoms, it can feel like stepping into an intense stance is compelling and necessary. In some ways, it very well may be--at least if they're able to examine and understand how the dynamics of their present episode echoes unhealed moments in their past. The truth, with proper context, is always good. Yet when it burns brightest, it's often challenging for most people to engage it in its rawest state--there's too much to fit in a brief conversation, meeting, or decision. So the proper context will ultimately become one of your own making, and I like to believe that it sometimes comes after the fact that you may or may not have burned people during your efforts to illuminate the roots of your reality while simultaneously igniting the debris that hampered your capacity to genuinely engage others who may be near with clarity and truth from your being.
The best answer I've seen to this is to recognize the moment, learn what you can before you choose to dive in all the way, rest in reason remembering that another opportunity to move in rooted passion will arise soon with each new day.
Sun rises soon, rest.
"Many of people in this will be empty in Spirit they will have Sampacu. No life force in their eyes."
Side note: Sampacu shares a very similar context and definition to sanpacu in Japanese -- I'm wondering if it's a typo or a common term.
Sun rises soon, rest.
* * *
"Rest in reason, move in passion." --a line from the poet Khalil Jibran
"Rest in reason, move in passion." --a line from the poet Khalil Jibran
Side note: Sampacu shares a very similar context and definition to sanpacu in Japanese -- I'm wondering if it's a typo or a common term.
No comments:
Post a Comment