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Love, Abuse and Weinstein, et al
I just reread my three-part post on abuse (March 2015) and what might be the beginning baby steps from humanity to inhumanity. My thoughts on the subject are today what they were then: placing too much emphasis on the differences between men and women does not serve either and opens the door to justified abuse.
It’s nice to balance an intense subject like depravity with visions and reminders that life can be beautiful and magical, as it is with me when I’m with my horses. Problems always waft away when I’m with them. Bazan is still my dream horse. And while Miata is no longer with us in form, she lives in my heart.
“Responsibility” is NOT a Four-Letter Word!
In another post, “Mother,” I talk about responsibility not being a four-letter word. For reasons which will soon be clear, the subject bears further discussion for your consideration.
The word itself generally (almost always, actually) evokes decidedly negative thoughts and feelings. Think about the last time someone told you that you were responsible for something. Was it a good thing that you were being praised for? Or was it for something bad that you had done? Somehow you had failed. I bet most of you will say it was said in a negative tone and context.
When we take responsibility for the environment, we are better able to create a better future. The same concept applies to love relationships. Owning the bad as well as the good leads to more good! (Taken on a trip to Patagonia, AZ.)
Mother
I’ve been thinking about my mother of late. March 20th would be her 92nd birthday if she had lived past the tragically-young age of 56. On the 20th, I will celebrate her life in my heart.
As I mention in my book, Mother was married so many times that until very recently, my brother and I could not agree on how many times exactly and to whom. I say “until recently” because Mark finally convinced me that his number—eight men, nine marriages (she married Dad twice)—was correct. Never mind that I knew nothing about a couple of these marriages! Or that at least one of them may have been spiritual but not legal. At least Mark and I agree!
Mother in Philadelphia, 1942. Beautiful and so unhappy. Artist: Helen Oman Gross, my aunt.