I was born in 1956 to older parents, a much older brother and a very old live-in grandmother. A so-called “happy” accident, I entered into a land where you could still feel the reverberation from the end of World War II and the Great Depression. In a strange way my childhood felt like an ongoing celebration of my parents’ newly perceived safety and freedom. They had made it into a suburban home with a bright yellow kitchen, someone else to clean, two cars, a television and an undying devotion to a controlled, superficial existence. I can’t blame them at all. Those early years were very, very scary for both of them. Without any emotional, psychological, or spiritual tools, I certainly understand why they chose the road, or shall I say river, marked “denial”.
Seriously, their newfound “safety and freedom” was celebrated with anything that would immediately control, fix or add ease to a situation (as in food that was made in factories and came in bags, cans, and boxes) and any product that worked on contact (as in cleaners and medicines). Eating meat, canned vegetables, and processed food was a privilege and an honor, as was taking any drug the doctor suggested, smoking cigarettes, and removing dirt and stains with chemical warfare. They must have trusted that all of the garbage that they produced would be neatly packed away on a tropical island (similar to trusting that the meat and poultry they consumed was not violently slaughtered). More accurately, it seems to me that no one questioned any of these “new and exciting” developments. They still had their party hats on and things looked damn good through the sugar haze.
It has been 58 years since I was born into that yellow kitchen and the consequences of those post-war party choices are wreaking havoc on our lives. We can no longer deny that the artificiality has poisoned the earth, our bodies, and our minds. The manufactured life turned into addictions to food, drugs, and acquiring stuff. We learned to obsess over our appearance and our accomplishments (or lack thereof) and, worst of all, landed in a big, fat, pervasive mindset of “I am not enough”.
Waking up from this hypnotic trance has been a grueling process for those of us who have chosen to do so. It has taken me years of study and practice to even begin to recover from the toxicity. I make progress by teaching what I need to learn one day at a time. I work towards being as conscious and as gentle as possible with all living beings, the earth and my own heart. I am grateful to understand that the only way to feel enough is to land in the moment, breathe, relax my body, clear my mind and feel the love and acceptance that is available to us all.
You are enough. I promise.