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Posts Tagged ‘inner child’

And I don’t mean yes you may spoil your inner child. As in, go ahead, spoil her.

That big pot of motherless stew is still simmering on the back burner. Today I’m back to wondering what’s a motherless child to do? And just how, exactly, does knowing I carry a prophetic longing for the whole of western civilization actually help me function in my own little life? Huh?

This morning the lyrics from the Eagles comeback hit, “Get Over It” are ringing in my ears. I’m so sad the You Tube link to embed it has been disabled, but you can see them perform their corrective dose of reality therapy here. And just in case you need it spelled out…

Get Over It
I turn on the tube and what do I see
A whole lotta people cryin’ ’don’t blame me’
They point their crooked little fingers at everybody else
Spend all their time feelin’ sorry for themselves
Victim of this, victim of that
Your momma’s too thin; your daddy’s too fat

Get over it
Get over it
All this whinin’ and cryin’ and pitchin’ a fit
Get over it, get over it

You say you haven’t been the same since you had your little crash
But you might feel better if I gave you some cash
The more I think about it, old billy was right
Let’s kill all the lawyers, kill ’em tonight
You don’t want to work, you want to live like a king
But the big, bad world doesn’t owe you a thing

Get over it
Get over it
If you don’t want to play, then you might as well split
Get over it, get over it

It’s like going to confession every time I hear you speak
You’re makin’ the most of your losin’ streak
Some call it sick, but I call it weak

You drag it around like a ball and chain
You wallow in the guilt; you wallow in the pain
You wave it like a flag, you wear it like a crown
Got your mind in the gutter, bringin’ everybody down
Complain about the present and blame it on the past
I’d like to find your inner child and kick it’s little ass

Get over it
Get over it
All this bitchin’ and moanin’ and pitchin’ a fit
Get over it, get over it

Get over it
Get over it
It’s gotta stop sometime, so why don’t you quit
Get over it, get over it

Ouch. These boys need a mommie, very, very badly.

Sometimes you have to let the pendulum swing all the way in both directions before you get a feel for the truth of things. This harsh slap upside the head resonates with me in many ways. I’ve seen enough victim queens to tempt me to swing that way. But it’s still missing the point.

Stay tuned.

p.s. while you’re at You Tube, spend a few minutes at Hotel California. Call me a Baby Boomer, but damn, that’s good music.

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On Friday, at Europa Cafe with the Jens, we shared the stories of our hearts with candor, vulnerability and love. The piece I shared was about the soul crisis I’ve been having around my work as a psychotherapist. I hoped that if I could lay it gently onto the table among us, submit my heart to the care of these special sisters, some gift, insight, or lifting of a burden might occur. I started stringing the beads of certain thematic experiences I’ve had concerning my own compassion, confusion, and the double-bind of powerlessness.

I became distracted by an almost irresistible desire to lie down and weep. The tears wouldn’t stop, so I interrupted my own story, wondering why I felt compelled to be my most vulnerable in public – the middle of Manhattan, no less.

Jen said,”You’re a motherless child.”

While I didn’t disagree, I was too determined to end my humiliating personal exposure to get a full explanation of how this concept applies, exactly, to my dilemma. She declared it with the grounded knowing of a physician making diagnosis. Or the Oracle, to Neo, when she said, “sorry kid, you’ve got a good soul, but you look like you’re waiting for something.”

Certain declarations from certain people you should take straight to the bank.

This one I carried in my pocket until this morning. The in-flight movie was August Rush. Embedded in this sentimental fairy tale are some great musical moments, including and especially, Raise it Up.

feelin like a motherless child hankered into my soul, it’s bringing me down, cant find my smile on a face of a
motherless child
I’m gonna break down these walls gonna give it my all ya know…
sometimes it takes a different kind of love to raise a child
so don’t give up
sometimes it takes a different kind of dream to make a smile

so raise it up
raise it up
sometimes it takes another helping hand to show you the way
(so don’t give up, when presures come down)
sometimes it seems impossible thats why we pray
SO RAISE IT UP

I cried again, damn it.

I’m a motherless child. From a certain perspective this is literally true. On June 24th it will have been 16 years since my mother died. I’m certainly motherless, if not a child anymore.

And seriously, is anyone, no matter how old, not a child down deep inside?

But I’ve gone on too long. More on this tomorrow. There’s so much more to say.

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