Who am I to tell you how to be human?

I’ve been consciously studying ‘how to be human’ for since 1985.

I was 14. I'd just received a call from my parents telling me that they wanted to be together, without me, so from now on, I now lived with my grandparents. Say what you like, it was the best thing that every happened to me. It was the first grand attack on my value system and forced me to face myself and my beliefs at an early age.

It began as the study of survival.

My survival.

Know thyself – According to Pausanias, these words were inscribed in the forecourt of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.

Seek and ye shall find – attributed to Jesus of Nazareth in the Gospel according to Mathew

The cause of all pain and suffering is ignorance - attributed to Siddhartha Gautama, The Buddha

Patience, discipline, strength – words I came across while studying Qigong

These words have been the pillars of rest and contemplation in between my moments of chaotic searching.

So I started my adult life cut off from human society.

I feared people.

I was afraid, vulnerable, secretive, unhappy, self condemning, judgmental, selfish, arrogant, disdainful, bored, uncaring, in pain, alone, cut off, ostracized, vindictive, ignorant, critical, hateful, and scornful.

I was afraid of people, of dying, of the future, of the past, of another's opinion, of the ruin of the environment, of societies view of me, of other’s judgment of me, of being poor, of my parent's alcoholic and anti-social life style.

I was vulnerable because I imagined the world considered me as less – it made me sensitive to criticism, snubs, blank faces, negative interpretation, conspiracy theories – my self image was poor, I felt ugly, plain, I felt worthless.

I was necessarily secretive because I felt that nobody would understand what I was going through. Nobody had parents who drank, that stole from the rest of society, that were poor, and sometimes rich.

Everything I have discovered, from this point of pain and rejection, everything about ‘being human’ comes from my experiences.

I didn’t feel human before. And I wanted to become human. I wanted to discover what it meant to be human.

I am a living experiment.

I am a product of my exploration of what it means to be human.

And then I realised, that I am you, and you are me. And all of this 'me' talk, was actually about us. You, my brothers and sisters. Its about us, and how to manage our life together.

There are many points to consider. Social, political, economic, spiritual, educational, environmental. But first and foremost, all dialogue begins with you and with me.

Much love.

My secret

I have a plan.

A plan to shock and shift the values in our society.

I am researching the commons in our unity. The fabrications, the illusions, the positives, the negatives.

When I have a handful of strings from the diversity of thought from systems like politics, economics, psychologists, scientists, I will draw them together and weave a strong rope.

These strings will represent the strong undercurrent of sweeping social change I can feel emerging with every beat of my heart.

We will focus our energies on the things we have in common.

- Our belief in making decisions based on our long term happiness over short term pleasure

- Our commitment to understanding our responsibility in our position of affluence

- Our belief in living our ‘ideals’ – authenticity

- Our commitment to humanities future through caring for and forging stronger, supportive relationships to our children

- Our understanding of the environmental crisis we are facing with countries such as India and China desiring to consume as much as we do, and understanding our entire system needs overhauling if we are to survive

Take a look at www.wellbeingmanifesto.net for more ideas.

Why?

Because we are ugly. We are superficial. We are disillusioned. We are depressed. We are alcoholics. We are drug addicts. We don’t care. We try retail therapy. We try binge drinking. We try buying more. We numb our brain with TV, computers, sex, romance, music and more shopping. We try screaming. We try not giving a damn. We try to blind ourselves with the flag. We try to drink more. We are angry. We are sad. We can’t believe it . We hate life. We are hurt. We can’t go on. We go missing. We want to escape. We are chained. We are hypnotized by the TV telling us that we must be young, pretty/handsome, rich. People disappoint us. Politicians disappoint us. We laugh so as not to cry. That we must buy this car, this mobile, this hairstyle, this magazine. We try divorce, we try to be single, we try to suicide. We hate our friends and our families. We think the world sucks.

And it does. It really does.

The only way to stop it, is for you to stop it. The only way.

Stop the lies, the deceit, the hurt in your own soul. Turn off the TV. Use your internet time with thought instead of feeling ‘trapped’ by it. Its all up to you.

And I believe in the power of you. I believe it, because the alternative is too terrible for me contemplate. I am blind. Blinded by my faith in humanity. In its ability to grow and develop and learn from its mistakes.

And all it takes, is for you to believe too. And then, I am a we. And we, together, can make a difference.

A Different Perspective

I saw a documentary on teenagers leaving foster care and moving out into the ‘real world’. I saw a news report where the Australian Prime minister spoke about ‘problem teenagers’ like they were a pest to be sprayed.

It sparked an avalanche of questions and concerns. Many of them indelibly linked to my own experiences.

Children’s emotional development is often stunted through crisis moments they have endured in their childhood. Children coming from emotional and/or physical abusive house holds come into contact with the world viewed through stained glass.

Relatively ‘normal’ children do not have their imagination, their versatility, their creativity, their ability to think out side the box. Of course, they don’t have the negative aspects either.

Yes. I said that abused children have resources other ‘happy and relaxed’ children do not have. Its not the first time the idea has been voiced.

We need to think differently.

More information, more open mindedness, more positivity directed towards the ‘differences’ we have, rather than spending time and money trying to make us the same as you.

Because I was a troubled teen. I come from an alcoholic house hold. And I’m so tired of the failing approach of the ‘normal, happy A4’ people, yes, like our Aussie Prime Minister, making ill informed judgments about ‘what to do’ with the likes of them. Them being special.

In all the googling I did, I didn’t see anyone mention the ‘why’ factor. Why are the teenagers binge drinking? Why are adults supplying their children with alcohol. Why do we need to sedate ourselves? Where is it all coming from?

Our world is speeding up. The level of information available to us now is outstripping anything in our known history. We are constantly reinventing ourselves to adapt to the constant flow of change.

We need to harness our unusual thinkers. We need to implement programs to educate shattered minds. And not to try to glue them back together to resemble a clean sheet of glass. But to assemble the pieces so the light can shine through the coloured vision and perhaps lighten up the path with fresh and innovative ideas for the problems of our world today.

Think differently. Think positively.

The Eye of the Storm

Its just before the discussion, and I’m feeling a little nervous for the out come. I don’t like confrontations, but this one has been brewing since we arrived three months ago.

It’ll be some kind of catalyst. A point that with the luxury of time will symbolize the kind of outward change I’ve never really hoped could occur for us.

We’ve all been dealing with our past the best we can. My sisters and my brother. We’ve been self focused in remembering the past. Its difficult enough to remember your own suffering, without having someone else’s memories to deal with. But its time. We all need it.

When our grandmother suddenly died, after a double stroke at the age of 89, it was like the storm clouds coming into sight. The clouds have been getting darker and heavier. The past is roaring into the present and I can see it all around me. Its time to address the issues of the past.

The timing wasn’t right before now. This kind of thing couldn’t be manufactured. It seems a preordained moment.

We’re going to sit our mother down and talk to her about a past she denies. We all remember it. We’ve all pussyfooted around her verging hysterics, her stubbornness, her denials, her lurking madness. Its enough. It time.

Wish us luck.

On Becoming Human

I was living in a caravan by a river. I had animals and trees and water. I was talking to God every day. But I was racked by intense pangs of loneliness. And a rising awareness that I was going slowly and irrecoverably mad.

It was at the peak of one of these experiences that I decided once and for all to become human.

Of course, looking back, I can see the stages of my growth clearly. The physical, the social, the mental. Learning about the intrinsic importance of relationships and how the past creates the present.

Where to begin?

Of course, at the beginning.

As a child of alcoholic parents (see the link for typical psychological results from alcoholic parents’ http://www.aacap.org/cs/root/facts_for_families/children_of_alcoholics ), I felt ostracized from society. My upbringing was compounded by one of my guardians being a criminal, and teaching various versions of anti social behaviour.

I did not relate to the children at school, or the TV programs, or anything I was exposed to.

Surprising for me to remember, it was the little things that hurt me most. Like not getting Easter eggs at Easter, or presents at Christmas or remembering birthdays. This didn’t happen all the time. Just sometimes.

The little scratches of criticism. Being laughed at.

The obvious lack of trust and suspicion.

I relied upon myself more and distrusted the world to take care of me.

I put myself into my own hands at the age of 14. My guardians at the time left me with my grandmother. After two weeks they called and delicately explained that they didn’t want me any more, and wouldn’t it be best if I lived with my grandmother? It was the last blow to my self esteem, and pinpoints the final curtain of my childhood.

I hated just about everything.

I spent my time writing abuse or fantasy romance fiction.

I sneered at my friends in my mind while smiling with my mouth.

I read books.

I ate chocolate.

I watched old Hollywood movies.

I sat and seethed in bubbling bitterness.

I had terrible migraines where I couldn’t move my head and where the smallest hint of light was akin to a laser piercing my frontal lobe.

I had a few ‘crazy’ attacks… seeing things where they shouldn’t be and throwing myself down stairs and banging my head, literally, against a brick wall…

It all got too much for me and I decided that if I couldn’t live with humans (because their hypocrisy made me sick), then I would live far away.

And I moved to the country.


Being willing to change

If I wasn’t open to change, I would have stayed an embittered, arrogant, annoying and ready to self explode ‘wannabe’ human.

Instead, I recognized that the life style I was leading, and the way I was thinking was detrimental to my physical and mental health.

I opened myself up to a different way of thinking.

I admitted that I was not sure how to proceed with my life and I took some time out until I got my feet back down on the ground.

I read a lot of books and thought a lot about my child hood and tried to make a bit of sense from it all. I wrote a lot. I wrote all the time. I wrote when I woke up, while I was eating my lunch and I wrote before bed. I wrote down everything I could remember from my childhood. I wrote down the positives and the negatives and I thought about things from my parent’s point of view and from my friends point of view and tried to shift focus.

I stopped being a victim of other people’s lives and started to take responsibility for myself and my choices.


What I discovered

I discovered the importance of the past and memories and how the future is created by the thoughts we have about ourselves and our place in the world. And of course, how important it is to have a positive, loving and supportive relationship to our parents.

So what if you don’t have it?

Then you start by creating a new set of memories. I needed to be totally finished with all of the memories and to do the best I could at that moment of accepting my life so far, and being willing to start fresh with a new understanding of what I wanted out of life.

So where to look for books on how to live?

I looked everywhere. I looked at life (and I still do) look around me with eyes on HOW people are living, what motivates them, what their priorities are, what inspires them… and because I am creating my life as I go, I take with me what ever I find positive and helpful.

I am creating the tradition of me. I am creating a blue print on how to be human. I am writing the guidebook I wished I’d discovered when I was 21. The born again guide to life and living.

Of course, it was difficult. Especially since I had so many hang-ups about myself.
I set about facing my fears in a systematic and progressive way.

The first one was admitting that I needed other people. And trust. (an issue that comes up periodically – so yes, no matter how hard I have worked and for how long, sometimes remnants of the past still resurface. Instead of seeing it as hopeless and demotivating, I smile and work through it again and again until I see it through).

I had no social skills. I didn’t know how to small talk. I was insecure about my body. I wore baggy clothing. I didn’t feel comfortable with being a girl. I disliked older men in particular and disliked breasts and bottoms. I shied away from talking about sex and intimate words like ‘love’. I had zero tolerance on alcohol and drug use. I disliked children. I sneered at religions. I hated the word ‘fun’. I thought everyone in the world was stupid. I thought that the world, if it could, would hurt me and I had to keep vigilant at all times if I wanted to survive. I thought people could, just by looking at me, know that I hated them. And in return, they would hate me. I had dreams of killing my boyfriend. Hacking him to death while he laughed at me.

So, I had a long way to go. Every journey begins with the first step.

I moved back to civilization.

Little steps

I began by going back to university and becoming more involved in and respectful to my lecturers.

I stopped taking books with me to parties I was invited to, and began to at least look and listen to what was going on around me. I was fighting painful shyness and inability to know what to say to strangers.

I allowed people to speak about the weather and their children and their work without being rude or aggressive.

I began to engage in life rather than fight it.

And I began to notice I was happier and more relaxed and I didn’t suffer from headaches in the same way that I did before.

Finding my way

Slowly I began to open myself to change and I began to implement the new discoveries into my own life. Of course, it was very difficult at times. Of course I made mistakes.

It was important for me to accept my mistakes and learn from them, and move on. I had a previous pattern of berating myself severely for any stupidity I might have made. I had to give it up if I wanted to be happier.

After some years, I discovered that Buddhism made the most sense to me as a way of thinking. The world is suffering. We are meant to be happy. Happiness and health go hand in hand. The way to happiness is though understanding the ways of the mind. Our unhappiness is produced because we have unhealthy attachments to memories, to ideas, to material possessions, to everything we perceive.

Its honestly the only system of thought that makes any sense to me. When I read Buddhist texts, its like reading variations of my own mind.

I began learning about the effects of the mind on the body. I learnt about Chinese medicine and qigong, yoga, meditation, self healing, reflexology, massage, hypnosis, jains, symbolism, Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, revelation, cognitive behavioral therapy, and the list goes on.

I drank alcohol.

I went out and made friends with absolute strangers. I kept contact with friends I made.

I learnt all the social rules.

I went to work and earned a living.

I leant to appreciate and like children and understand their importance in the future of the world.

Physically

The problems

I was shy.

I associated exposed flesh as sex.

I associate sex with ‘bad and stupid’. (partly because the teenage girls and boys who were my peers were absolutely no role model for me at the time)

I thought I was over weight.

I thought I was plain, unattractive.

I hated to show my bottom, my derriere, my tush, my behind, my bum. (even writing those words make me squirm)

The solution

I tried to become interested in fashion and what other girls my age were thinking. I bought and read fashion magazines.

I experimented with fashion and thought about clothes that might suit and even flatter my figure.

I bought and experimented with make up.

I forced myself to talk to the male of the species without imagining they were all sex maniacs. I pictured them as ‘human’ – with NO sex. It helped at the time. I ignored the negative thoughts in my head about men and tried to see what was REALLY happening, not what I THOUGHT was happening.

I trained my body and got to know it anatomically.

I read books about sex. I watched videos about sex. I forced myself to talk to people about sex and break the taboo of the word in my mind. Every time I came up against one of my restrictions, I questioned it and did my best to break the bounds.

I listened to the positive things people said to me about my appearance and ignored the negative.
I trained myself to listen to a compliment and let it settle into me, to honestly feel the words and then give thanks for it.

I used positive affirmations to assure myself that I was attractive.

I learnt about women and leant to enjoy being one.

I let love in and addressed it to myself.

What next?

I look around me and I see that many people are struggling with different issues. Most of us don’t feel enough pain or see our problems as being so big that they need addressing. Its only people who have had enough. Its only people who can not take it any more that look for help. And its for them, that I write and talk so much about these things.

My life at present is divided between increasing self knowledge and sharing it.

Of course, as usual, if you have anything to add, feel free to contact me or leave a comment.

Alcohol and children

Alcohol

Alcohol is not the culprit. The alcoholic is. Where is the responsiblity? Where is the awareness of the self? There's nothing.

Alcohol merely increases the state of carelessness. There is no real confrontation. There are only little turbulances, little puffs of trouble. Each time the large issue is skirted there appears another dozen little hassles to get through. Why face the big issues when you're concerned about the importance of Self in the relationship, the loss of youth, the missed opportunities that now look so good, the fact that he/she didn't squeeze the toothpaste in the right place, that you spoke down to me in front of my friends... Where lies the responsiblity?

As a teenager
I was living in an agressive, alcoholic household that alternated between repressed and unleased violence. The emotional currents that had helped conceive me, raise me and feed me reached a peak that lasted several years. My emotions became increasingly inward and although I was abandoned by the source of many of my problems (my father had dropped me with my nana to live), I was delivered into the hands of one ill equipt to sort my brain out. Namely myself. My life seemed pointless and intense and and turgid and muddy and yet the sun shone, the trees were caressed by the shifting zephyrs and the moon passed over my head at night.

And there was D. H. Lawrence.

I didn't drink with my friends. I tried a couple of times but after one or so glasses I'd begin to feel nauseous. I figured I must have been allergic to the stuff.

I didn't smoke cigarettes. I was athletic, jogging, aerobics, weight training. Putting smoke into my lungs seemed a pointless and distructive activity.

I didn't do any drugs (prescription drugs not included). I wasn't in a drug crowd when I was younger and by the time I was offered differing stimulants I had already formed my own philosophic barrier against drug taking.

I believe my mental state broke down because of the internal stress I was putting myself under with so much hatred in my system. I was totally unhappy. I felt that life was painful, torturous experience. I didn't know of an avenue of escape. I couldn't see out of my life.

I stopped seeing most of my school friends. They were boring, thinking only of money, jobs, possessions and boys.

I wore baggy relaxed clothing.

I sported what my Grandmother called anti-social hairstyles.

I ate a block of chocolate every day.

I drank eight cups of coffee a day.

I was in my first year of university when my vision changed. I saw things hiding in corners. I'd moved into a small unit in Auburn Road and the bathroom frightened me. It seemed to close in on me when I was in the shower. I felt victimized.


My first adult friend

The only real defect was his alcohol dependency. But it wasn’t like drinking every day, first thing in the morning. It was more about needing alcohol to relax, to socialize, to have a decent weekend. Obviously, I resented his need.

One night I came home and he was lying on his side by the toilet bowl. One of his friends was standing by his side. My heart was frozen. If anything I felt like kicking him where he lay. John was wary, he knew I didn’t aprove.

‘He’s had a little too much to drink. But he’ll be alright in the morning.’ He was whispering loudly. That beer scent oozed out of his mouth towards me.

‘And you brought him home?’

John nodded looking down at the unconscious body. I went to my room, leaving him to rot.

I didn’t like my friend Ivan to go out without me. He would always come home totally bewildered and so full you couldn’t get a straight answer from him. He never remembered anything the next morning. But I did. I couldn’t wipe the images and anger from my heart.

I was called late one night. Ivan in hospital, the car having run off the road. He’d been sleeping at the wheel. John was with him. Nobody was seriously hurt. Police had been driving behind them when the car had run into the side of the road and the nearest tree. He had to go to AA meetings as punishment. His lawyer told him to look spruce, intelligent and they would talk about his brilliant academic career ecetera. He lost his license for two years, but there was no cash paid out and Ivan didn’t suffer. He drove when he had to, daddy would have paid what there was to pay.
I made him promise never to drink and drive again. Threatening him with my absence.

I was unhappy though, dreading the weekend.