Ah, Dr. Ford, I believe you. In my bones I believe you, and all the other women our age who were used and abused without remorse or acknowledgement. I’m one of them, a few times over.
Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, thank you from my heart for speaking your truth; I am humbled. Galvanized, to listen and hear more.
I have read and read and heard and felt and re-lived then re-re-claimed, re-re-built so much in myself this week. I’ve deepened my understanding of the legacy of those times, and found other voices born out of that darkness like Martha Wainwright’s, among others. The experience has been like grasping a lightning rod in a raging thunderstorm – trigger after trigger, jolt after jolt.
I thank the universe I’m planted firmly in a good place, now, stronger by far than I was just two months ago. Strong enough to take it all in, and then breathe it on through me. It had to go somewhere safe, this rawness.
Re-living trauma – is the only way out back through? Through me, along with my heart-felt forgiveness, into the ground, where it can transform into something clean.
Nobody can heal if you do not release resentment and anger, since rage cancels love, and only love heals. Survivors need to forgive (but never forget) so that abusers can then heal their own damaged selves. Perpetrators need fierce, firm, but loving help from all of us, since accountability in this culture is a difficult thing to own, and truly atone for.
So trauma through and out of me, into the same clean ground where trees find nourishment and connect to other trees. Where they share nourishment and news at the rate of one pulse every third of a second. It’s enough.
Humbled even more, I can turn away now from my deliberate, focused witnessing and releasing of this week. I can walk forward, relieved, into love and expansion in both my work and my life. My heart knows I will not get pulled backward, again.
I feel deep gratitude for this older, familiar place. I thank the old apple who fed and restored me a quarter-century ago, who now feeds the soil with her body. I visit the willow I planted near to her, who now towers over hawthorn and cherry to dance with the sky.
The forest at my present cabin is one hundred years old, steady with good healthy growth. Over this past century the trees there have learned to buttress each other against the prevailing, ever strengthening westerly winds. It’s beautiful to see.
Human lives are so quick, by contrast. I build a tiny house in mere months, race my busy self around the place, and only gradually notice how much more I notice, when I’m still. I come in to an urban centre for supplies and watch myself join the inevitable human fray: we gulp our news and nourishment at hyper-rapid rates, pause rarely.
Maybe this is why music. We do tend to touch roots together to drink in music.
If we are going to heal ourselves and each other, if we are going to reach a point of acknowledgement and atonement – both in our human ecosystem and with the natural ecosystem that sustains us – we’d better learn to actively expand outside of our quick narrow worlds. To do this slowly. Listeningly. To notice, then respect what we’ve been moving too fast to see.
To learn, finally, how we can respectfully and lovingly buttress each other against the wind and weather, which, as we know, will only get more difficult to withstand.
*Some good reliable sources, if you are interested in reading more about these #MeToo related issues: I recommend you start with Solnit, (this is a facebook link, but she has published many informative reliable essays), and continue from there.