Assimilation–some thoughts

It fails…everyone.



“Cultural assimilation is the process in which a minority group or culture comes to resemble a society’s majority group or assume the values, behaviors, and beliefs of another group whether fully or partially.”

Wikipedia

Alchemy of flowers, spices, vegetables and a drop of wine makes an all too wonderful sauce. Melting pots are different because they separate the one from her identity. The things which make her and him unique dissolved into a stew. What advantage is there in homogenizing immigrants–what is lost to them, to us, to the wholeness that loves variety?

What remains is the longing for what you’ve abandoned in yourself–grief, you bet, yes!

Assimilation has also been referred to as Cultural Homogenization–It is an aspect of cultural globalization intending a reduction in cultural diversity.

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What then is the story that wants to be told through anyone’s uniqueness? through me? through you?
Weren’t we all once immigrants?
Weren’t we all once hostile invaders?
Weren’t we invaded?

I was never really ‘white’ never really wanted to be that generic, one-size fits all milk-toast identity grouping on applications. Applications for jobs, apartments, housing, surveys, sundry forms, what have you. Checking ‘Other’ didn’t cover it for me either. Other planet? Other Galaxy? Other sexual orientation, other dimensional, another type of animal, homo-erectus or feline. Yet, doesn’t someone love to classify, label, name and segregate disorienting one from their origins/ancestry and the wonder of diversity?

I can agree that I’m female, belonging to the largest and least represented category (along with children), the culture of woman. Doesn’t that culture span the globe? Don’t we have more in common than not? We search for the exotic and foreign through travel and outside of ourselves, when, in fact, the terrain within is vastly foreign, exotic. Carl Jung was one of our navigators through this landscape but he died and we were left stranded in a sea of distractions and technological advances. All of these diversions from what is going on inside and in the larger world over which we feel helpless to make a difference.

I would have felt more shame had my ancestors been the first to arrive on the Mayflower. I wouldn’t have wanted to claim that perceived glory. It was too close to the extermination of a race of people with whom I feel empathy. The indigenous ones only wanted to protect their lands, their people and the pristine quality of their lives–their connection to the earth–indigenously wise.

Nov.16, 2015
My ancestors came over from Italy and Ireland a few generations ago.
I am third generation here not so long–
Immigrated, assimilated–
but the dreams persist and
I resist the memories they convey.
I am here–America–
born in America.
Why then this strange chanting
in a language that makes me tingle
yet I don’t understand?

Nov.17, 2015
Because when she let go of her heritage, she let go of her birthright and the inherent magic.

Skin–shades of various tones. Beneath it, ah, bones, blood, organs–skin, what perceptions do we have based on shades of skin?

What perceptions do we have based on how much money? Having more money, or with less money, or without money?

Years–accumulation of years–what perceptions do we have based on how many or how few years one has lived on planet earth?

What perceptions do we have based on sexual orientation?

What perceptions do we have based on physical appearance? Height, weight…

On and on it goes, our limiting perceptions.

Once upon a time, I married a young Hispanic man. I gave birth to two daughters. They resemble their Mexican heritage physically. They are also Irish, Italian, French and German. Their father did not grow up speaking Spanish although both of his parents were fluent native speakers. Was there a shame in bringing the language forward? The dream was to have your children be assimilated, an American, and it was presumed that the native language would link them to something undesirable.

Today, when my daughters are in the company of other Spanish-speaking Hispanics and it is discovered that they don’t speak the language, they are looked down upon by the native speakers. Yet, because of their appearance, they are devalued by the “White” ones. It’s all very peculiar, isn’t it?

This Journey

We are, each one of us, on a journey to ourselves. Many of us (I don’t know why it’s this way) are born into family systems that steer us further away from ourselves. This steering away is influenced by the cultural, political and religious systems that are in place when we are born. We then spend a lot of our life trying to release what isn’t true for us or that isn’t serving our wholeness. We want to serve the greater good by sharing our unique gifts, but there is all of this undoing that has to happen before we can access what we’re here to share. So it seems.

Several years ago, I crafted and presented creative writing workshops. These workshops arose from a place of my own individual self-exploration. However, the template I created could be applied to guiding other writers and seekers with processing and integrating their own experiences through creative writing. It was a wonderful, intuitive and healing experience for all participants. However, at some point, I decided that until I was more whole, more evolved or wiser, that I should stop sharing in this way.

I withdrew from presenting workshops. There were other more imperative things that I needed to tend such as my ailing parents. Then, there was a high maintenance relationship that diverted my attention. That was followed by a timidity and the thought that I didn’t have the energy to present in this way. So everything that I had created, crafted and cultivated laid in a heap in a file cabinet drawer waiting, waiting, waiting for some prince to come and kiss it awake, or not.

The truth is that you’re never going to have it all together. There is not going to be a perfect time when all conditions are right. And the stars won’t be perfectly aligned as a clue for you to begin. Besides, your wholeness involves all of your imperfections and that vulnerability is part of your charm. This is the place where people can connect with you authentically. It helps them recognize their own vulnerable places that need tender loving care.

“If I waited until I had all of my ducks in a row, I’d never cross the street. Sometimes you just have to gather up what you’ve got and make a run for it.”

A friend sent me this quote as I was writing my blog this morning. It fits perfectly with what I’m saying…that is take your beautiful, imperfect self, go out into the world and share your gifts. Wherever you are in your personal journey is good enough. Can you imagine a world where each and every being–with their unique perspective–creates a potpourri of diversity, the wondrous variety of life?

Enjoy the sharing and the human discovering that you are.

Why Am I Here?

Every now and then, it’s a good idea to contemplate this existential question. Today, Thursday, October 29th, 2020 as I go about this day. I’ve decided to put that question at the forefront of my mind. I want to be with it as I weave in and out of the daily activities and encounters. It’s not as if I expect to find a final or definitive answer. It’s more like a present day review that addresses the question: Am I living what I value?

Waking up to a pristinely beautiful autumn day, I might answer “Perhaps I’m here to see and appreciate this inordinate beauty.”

As I sip my morning smoothie made with the abundant fruit harvest, “Maybe I’m here to express gratitude for such nourishing abundance.”

As I stand under a stream of hot running water, taking my morning shower, “More gratitude as I realize this is a privilege, not a right and that there are many others who don’t have running water, hot or cold.”

“Why am I here?” the question echoes and follows me around like a curious puppy discovering the world.

As I wield a paintbrush or write this blog, “Perhaps I’m here to be a creative channel.” And then,
to share my observations and art with others.

Then, as I go out into the world encountering others, it could be that I’m here to be the best version of myself. And to welcome the best version of you, the other.

As I strive to live my personal values, going out into the world, is what I stand in and up for recognizable to you? And do I meet you at that level, recognizing your uniqueness and what you stand in and up for?

Are we each here to welcome ourselves and one another into this grand, crazy, wild, chaotic, uninhibited expression of life!

I feel that one big reason I’m here (or that anyone is here) is to establish right reciprocal relationship with nature which includes us. Yesterday, in a telephone conversation with one of my brothers, he was feeling distress regarding the distancing between nature and people who live in big cities. He said that they have no sense of where their food comes from, how electricity is supplied, nor awareness of the interdependence and relationship between themselves and nature. The “city person” expects these essentials to be delivered to their doorstep. “They are spoiled,” he said. I have been a city person for most of my life. For the past twenty-two years, I’ve lived in the mountains. I do agree that there is a disconnect. And isn’t it then, up to each person to find that missing piece in their lives and reestablish right relationship?

In this time of Covid, there is a common theme of separation and isolation. It has been forced on us by the virus. Yet, if we could begin to re-establish connection to nature, maybe we’d feel less lonely. And, really, as I quest for an answer to why I’m here, I might remember that humans are social animals. And while there is a need for separation at this time, we are a chorus. We need each other. And it is through relationship that we remember why we’re here. For ourselves, for one another. There is a wholeness when you and I meet that can’t be fabricated in solitude. We are born alone and we exit in that way. However, while we’re here, we join our voices, fight for common causes based in our values and play outdoors in nature as often as possible.

For today, I’m going to keep it small…make the question a tiny one that sits there as I quietly observe myself and how I influence life and how life is influencing me.

There’s something else that is coming through powerfully as the day goes on. In this lifetime, I was born a woman. And with that comes a whole other question. I am a witness to how the world I’m born into disfavors women. How it disallows her innate rights of being. How it has enslaved or made women lesser than men in so many ways. Why am I here can be reframed into “Why am I here as a woman?” Is the world ready for women to be all that they can be, in their true power and dignity? I think that it’s about time. What do you think?


Note: I wrote this in October of last year…I decided that today is a good day to publish it as I reconsider my initial question Why am I here?”

Writing My Way Through

Writing a blog, one can get stuck in a rut. Trying to hold true to an original intention for the blog, I encountered a block. While I loved what I was writing and sharing, was it making a difference for myself and others? Was their an evolutionary track to it? Perhaps, I’ve gone as far as I need to in that direction.

I paused the blog to grieve three intimate losses, to reencounter myself and rekindle a relationship with what has been a lifelong theme. That theme is the theme of woman/mother in a society that disrespects woman. As a girl with a mother who was virtually voiceless and invisible, I was impacted strongly. In her invisibility and silence, her effect upon me has been profound. How, then, did I find my voice? How did I allow myself to dare to go from invisibility to being seen?

As I write this, I ask myself “Do I want to share something this personal referencing my ongoing lifelong journey towards finding my voice, healing and wholeness?” I haven’t arrived there and I don’t necessarily feel secure or that I’m in a place of grounded strength and complete self-awareness. If I haven’t arrived, then how credible can I be? While I took a break from writing this blog to process grief, I realize that the period of healing, grieving, reclaiming and replenishing is ongoing.

In these times, each one of us has something that we are working on in the inner landscape of our individual lives. We are, each one of us, a microcosm with its own center and on our own evolutionary track. We do this, side-by-side, unaware of what our neighbor’s or our brother’s or our sister’s inner self is working on. If recognizing this helps me to access compassion, then I’ve come a long way.

We live in what has been termed “unprecedented times.” The challenges are great for us as individuals and as a society. There are a few people in my immediate circle with whom I reflect and share deeply. I admire those who can hold a positive attitude…although sometimes I wonder what channel they are tuned into as I don’t have the same consistent optimism. I do have hope, but I also am a witness to my own turmoil and the world condition. What is my small part in this great whole?

As I was walking in the late afternoon, it occurred to me that I could harvest writing from my journals, essays and non-fiction short stories to present the themes that explore a woman’s evolution from invisible and voiceless to “it is safe to be visible and to have a voice.” But there is something that I’m looking for in my own life and journey–what is the transformational piece? I don’t only want to present a problem…I want to consider “What is a possible way to transform what was or has been?”

I offer that question to you, the reader of this blog. Surveying your life, are you able to name a transformational piece? Certainly, there can be more than one.

Enjoy your day.

Forget Perfection

“Have no fear of perfection – you’ll never reach it.”
― Salvador Dali

 

forgetperfection2

This face is hiding amidst my journal pages–a practice piece.  She looks worried…or sad…her eyes a bit glossy.  Has she been crying?  This is not a perfectly drawn or crafted portrait.  With that, she conveys something, doesn’t she?

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Several years ago, one of my younger sisters held her wedding in Lake Tahoe.  As many of the eight siblings as could get there, gathered with the newlyweds to celebrate.  When she and her new husband were leaving the celebratory party we had staged, as they were getting into the elevator, her new husband made a comment about my sister not being perfect.  His comment came across as derogatory.  I looked at him and I said, “She’s the perfect Robin (her name).”  Isn’t that what any one of us can aspire to be…the perfect you or me?  Or him or her?

How does one even establish a standard for PERFECTION?  It seems that we need to measure it against something that’s been confirmed–(the highest score) or someone else (a society’s idea of beauty)?  So to describe perfection, we make a comparison.  In science, that might work.  But in a world of variety, diversity, melange–in the sheer array of humans on the planet, how can one even begin to establish a standard of perfection?  If we consider that perfection is overrated or invalid, what can we strive for?

Ah, to be you and me, each in his/her own wholeness, what greater thing to design for yourself!

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When making art, there is the artist, the substrate, the paint, the brush and what begs to be expressed through the artist.  Art is one avenue to express the emotions that want to run away with you.  And there are so many deeply felt emotions during these days of pandemic.  An artist is able to transmute a deeply felt emotion into a creative action through making art.  The chemical response in your body as you make art is felt.  Try it, don’t take my word for it!  And please do forget perfection.

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”
― Leonard Cohen

Lost at Sea

When I painted this piece in my journal, I was feeling adrift.  So much was out of my hands in regards to the well-being of those I love.

I wrote:

I cannot pretend anything–neither false affection nor that I am practicing a devotion except for this writing and this painting.

Rain today, rain tomorrow.  They’ve colored the sky gray.  The optimism of our generation is deflated.  We wanted to hold up banners of “BRAVA!”  But we are too wise to think that things could be different, better.  We are humans, only humans.  Only that…is that true?  or only an excuse?  We are each the chosen one.  The nadis–weave them all together–then, there’s a wholeness.  In our disconnect, we are adrift in our own limited consciousness.  Out at sea, each in his/her own skincraft.  Aren’t we always looking for a friendly shore upon which to land.  A welcome home sign, a cry of recognition–

“Yay, you’re here.”

 

lostatsea

What is your stance on the gender binary?

“Gender Binary is the classification of gender into two distinct, opposite and disconnected forms of masculine and feminine, whether by social system or cultural belief.” (Wikipedia)

That is women’s roles versus men’s roles in society…as in, are the differentiated roles necessary, a natural progression?

Response:  Being female,  I experience my inner masculine when I exhibit action in the world.  Action being considered a masculine quality.  And a male friend has shown his feminine side when, as a caregiver, he nurtures his elderly clients.  Nurturing is viewed as a feminine quality.  So, we have within us attributes of either gender.  And, we express in the world as male or female primarily.

It is obvious to many that a woman’s biology determines certain things.  Even if we could grow a baby fully in a scientific test tube, the advantages to this would be none in my opinion.  It’s not a matter of eradicating what a woman’s biology intends for her.  It’s a matter of recognizing and embracing the value of what women innately offer to humanity.    Regarding men, what is primarily their terrain by virtue of being born male?  How does any culture value their innate qualities?  And, as women step more into their feminine power, how does this affect the dominant male in society?

Whenever we try to separate out this from that, masculine from feminine, we miss the overlap.  Whenever we try to define one gender as better than the other or in opposition to the other, we miss the point.  Basically, we are interdependent and we won’t experience our wholeness unless we allow both the masculine and feminine (within and without) the dignity that it deserves.

My question is why do we make what is obvious, complex?

There was a time of goddess cultures and matriarchies (the story goes) where women’s wisdom ruled.  I can only imagine what that was like.  Or what the masculine role was within that society.  Or how and why it was overthrown.  It is obvious that some balance needs to return to our planet.  If that means bringing in more of what is innately feminine, then we’re overdue to get with that program.  In these times, all voices–masculine and feminine–need to come to the table and be heard and respected.

Mechanisms of Whole and the Mandala

Mechanisms of Whole
© by Christine O’Brien

We each have a felt sense
of whole
but we aren’t sure
how to engage it.
Yearning for whole
which we try to fill
with things of the appetites–mandala1
food, sex, drugs, alcohol,
ambition, activities, relationships.

Instincts towards whole, unity
community—families, clubs,
religions, towns, states, countries.
Efforts towards whole which have been
thwarted within ourselves
since birth–
fragmentation, disassociation–
rejected aspects of self;
traumatic experiences
resulting in separation within.

Yet, we are surrounded by
daily examples of whole:
from an apple to the sun
to the night sky—in harmony,
congruence.
It’s a real struggle to retain
our lack of integrity
in the presence of such
expressions of whole.

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Carl Jung was one of the proponents of accessing the deep psyche and one’s integrative wholeness through the use of the mandala.

Writing Prompt:
Find a picture of a mandala (or better yet, draw and color one).  Place the mandala where you will see it throughout the day.  At the end of the day or the next morning, sit and study the mandala for five to ten minutes.  Write for twenty minutes (or more).  Is there anything  surprising in your writing?