By Michael Hooper
In the world of cryptocurrency it’s sometimes hard for the government to tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys.
By Michael Hooper
In the world of cryptocurrency it’s sometimes hard for the government to tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys.
By Michael Hooper
In Widen the Window, Elizabeth Stanley says early life experiences, especially with our parents and other important caregivers, powerfully reverberate throughout our lives, especially in how we interact with other people and cope with and recover from stress.
In Chapter 6, the author says attachment styles are developed based on our relationships with our parents and primary caregivers from childhood.
She says empirical studies suggests that about 3/4 of adults keep the same attachment style throughout their lives.
Attachment styles
She describes attachment styles as communication patterns, and relational strategies which get encoded in our brains as implicit and procedural memory. Our attachment style affects how much physical closeness and contact we have with others, our social engagement with other people and groups. She defines four attachment styles.
There are avoidant adults who tend to operate with a narrow window, who cope by avoiding contact. Their mother tended to dislike contact with her babies.
Insecure, anxious child gets this way through a mother, who interacts with them unpredictably and inconsistently responding to her own emotional needs and moods first not her babies needs
Anxiously attached adults tend to prefer intense and enmeshed relationships. They tend to find isolation stressful, and they fear abandonment and seek excessive reassurance.
Infants will develop an insecure disorganized style of attachment when their parents are some combination of neglectful, abusive, depressed, or traumatized themselves.
The predominant disorganized relational strategy is, “I need contact but I can’t let my guard down.”
Childhood adversity
In Chapter 7, the author says a man she dated when she served in the Army called her a trauma magnet. This makes me wonder why she attracts so much hardship and pain?
She says individuals who experience trauma and adversity in childhood often endure additional traumatic events later in their lives. It appears certain people develop lifelong patterns of trauma and despair.
In her chapter on childhood adversity she says empirical research shows that early life chronic stress leads to structural changes in the developing brain. Children with early life, chronic stress, are likely to develop larger and hyperactive amygdala the survival brain region, and they are more likely to develop a smaller, prefrontal cortex, the thinking brain region.
There are clear, neurobiological reasons why someone from a "challenging" upbringing is more likely to have difficulty making good decisions, controlling impulses, regulating emotions, developing supportive relationships, and recovering from stress.
Stanley says we can rewire our thinking, we can experiment with new internal and external tools to access a wider range of adaptive responses during stress. We can learn to interrupt the survival brains, default programming, and the coping habits we adopted in childhood.
The author, Yiyun Li recently wrote in the New Yorker about feeling anguish over the suicide of his son Vincent at age 16. He says anguish comes to us from the Latin, Angustia means narrowness, lack of space, narrow passage, limitations, confinement, imprisonment, and pettiness.
Can we say narrow window, Stanley's go-to metaphor!
I have a friend of mine, who is a fellow artist. He’s very talented, but he’s always in a state of self analysis, he says his life is meaningless and worthless. He’s always making these statements on FB about his insecurities. I call them fishing expeditions, to lure someone in who is going to provide him assurance that his life is OK and worth living, that he is a talented artist and so forth. I fell for this trap a few times, but I gave up…..I tried to help him but he goes back to self loathing. It’s like he’s on a loop.
In the song, Candy Says, by the Velvet Underground, she sings, “Maybe when I'm older, what do you think I'd see If I could walk away from me?"
If you figure out how to rise above self loathing; get off the loop, and it seems the world opens up to you.
I recently read a book by Chloe Cooper Jones, I met her at the Kansas Book Festival, she wrote a book, called Easy Beauty, and in there she talks about how her generation of people are so self-absorbed, and that we need to go through a period of un-selfing in order to get away from all this self absorption.
I like to transcend all of this self-absorption by studying the world of ideas, and how these ideas might be used to change or improve society. I like to study art and ask myself how can I paint a better picture. How does a musician capture the purity of a song?
Lately my wife Heather and I have been singing along to old songs by the Carpenters, is there a more sweeter sounding voice than Karen Carpenter?
In church, my friends Mike Cox and Gordon Haight and I sing together. My voice is not that great, but together with these men, we sound like Crosby Stills and Nash and Young.
David Bowie says you can be a hero for just one day.
One day, Heather and I took our two children and a foreign exchange student Momo Yamaguchi of Japan to a Native American drum event near Holton. We listened to these elders pounding the drum and chanting and singing and howling. We heard the awakening of their souls, the sound of sorrows. A sublime dimension.
The tiny window that I created around my anguish seems to have disappeared and now I’m looking for ways to connect with music, and art, poetry, laughter and love, a highway to transcendence.
I would say, my attachment style is moderately outgoing, with a curiosity about people, and a willingness to share a friendly smile, and a kind word, to perhaps, engage with a soul. I like working by myself but I enjoy the camaraderie of working with others toward a larger goal.
I remember, Jude Highberger, who used to attend meetings with this group. He and I had a discussion about attachment styles.
He said, “I carry every one I ever met with me.”
Wow, What an example for us to follow.
Shock trauma
In chapter 8, she says shock trauma is in another way for the Window to narrow. Shock trauma is when the body feels an acute or unexpected event that has a major effect on the mind-body system. During shock trauma we experience too much stress, and emotional intensity, thereby overwhelming our window of tolerance. These events could be like a hurricane, or a tornado or a fire or a divorce or a childhood death or something major. She suggests that we should take some time to make a list of experiences of shock trauma throughout our life. Write down all these shocking and earth-shattering events that tore up your heart. Once the list is complete take some time to think about it evaluate what happened and perhaps what could you have done differently and how we might act today.
Elizabeth Stanley is trying to be scientist and therapist in her book. I'm not sure she is succeeding at either endeavor. She is at the center of all these issues because she has been through these trauma events, with real-life combat experience, which seems to deepen the depressive nature of the content of this book.
At the end of chapter 6, the author encourages you to reflect in writing about your own attachment styles both as a child, and as an adult, and that as a part of this exercise, you should speak with your parents, your siblings, or other people who knew you as an infant and a child. Is this really appropriate? Is there any lasting value in this technique?
Time is no friend, she does not console, she offers no pathos,
she is a machine, accurately ticking away the days,
she will take you to your grave,
yet she is our most valuable resource, more valuable than gold,
we must love her and cherish her, and be devoted to her;
she is the mistress that will not love us back, yet leaves us wanting more.
Time travels at top speed in the years, but like a turtle in the minutes and hours of the day.
Moments are preserved as time-stopping pictures, for memory, for edification, for hope, for desire, for nostalgia, for beauty, for sadness, despair and eternal life.
In Chapter 6 of Thunder in the Soul, author Abraham Joshua Heschel laments about the demise of the spirit in mankind. In our quest to conquer space, we have forfeited our spiritual connection to the divine. In our quest for order, we renovate our spaces, we buy stuff at Home Depot, we upgrade the kitchen, we have fixed up our home, but we have left our soul empty.
We have gained power over space, but we have lost an appreciation for quiet time with God. Heschel, the rabbi, says there is a realm of time where the goal is not to have, but to be, not to own, but to give, not to control, but to share, not to subdue, but to be in accord.
Joy, reverence, gratefulness and awe were some of the feelings I experienced while painting at Mission Valley Ranch, near Alma, Kansas. This experience on Father’s Day was meaningful for me because I had been dreaming of painting in the Flint Hills for years.
In my early days as a business reporter, I had written a story about Bill Hogue, a homebuilder and rancher, who owns the Mission Valley Ranch with his wife, Kathy. I had visited their ranch near Dover, but had never been to their ranch near Alma so this was a treat. The trip was arranged by Ye Wang, art professor at Washburn University.
Entering the ranch, I was thunderstruck by the huge vista over this land, we drove down into a valley, where I saw a house and two tiny cabins made of stone. Lots of Kansas limestone in these structures.
I listened to the wind, and the sound of leaves blowing, occasionally a cow mooing. Nature is so loud it’s like an orchestra if you listen to it.
Ye Wang set up his painting station on a road under trees near a creek. I wanted to be closer to the prairie with a view of the Flint Hills. My wife, Heather and I drove farther into the ranch, and then I set up next to an alfalfa field that was surrounded by rolling hills and trees. As I set up my painting station, several cows walked near me. It had rained the night before, but now the clouds were thinning out, and I felt the warmth of the sun.
Connected to nature, yes, that is the awakening point in my soul. I laid out a composition pretty quickly and started painting, feeling a sense of the forms and their values. I filled my canvas with deep greens in the forest, the light yellow green on the hillside, and the gray blue sky coming through the clouds, the intricate blue green alfalfa with a few weeds thrown in, including some ditch weed, all part of my painting. The grass on the road fell to a golden touch. My wife took a nap.
Reading the words of Abraham Joshua Heschel, I am contemplating his notion that we need to approach God with a sense of awe and wonder in order to connect with Him. It is not hard for me to approach God with a sense of awe because he created the universe and the stars and the Earth and this majestic land. His universe is still being created. His artistry is in full scale production, on Earth and in the far-reaches of the universe, where new stars are born. But most people would not be contemplating this idea — God as artist — because they have their heads buried into their phone, watching reels on Instagram.
“As civilization advances, the sense of wonder almost necessarily declines,” wrote Abraham Joshua Heschel, in Thunder in the Soul. “Such decline is an alarming symptom of our state of mind. Mankind will not perish for want of information, but only for want of appreciation. The beginning of our happiness lies in the understanding of life without wonder is not worth living. What we lack is not a will to believe but a will to wonder.”
Nature exhibits this sense of wonder and curiosity. A hummingbird flew toward me, hovered and checked me out. We locked eyes and then he flew back into a tree. Insects continue to fly into my space, I’m afraid they are doomed if they get into my paint. I shoo them away.
Heather and I enjoyed a picnic with cold fried chicken, grapes and chips. My painting was nearly finished. We went for a walk along the ranch road, the alfalfa field on our left and a hillside with trees at our right. Multiple paintings could be had in this moving landscape.
On the way out, we stopped to look at Ye Wang’s painting. This man is brilliant with brush and paint. He chooses the best compositions; his painting of the road and creek under the trees is magical. Heather took our picture together.
Heather and I drove through the hills and took a selfie at the top of a hill southeast of Alma. I am immensely grateful to Bill and Kathy Hogue for letting us visit their ranch. And thank you Ye Wang for arranging this special day.
I look at my composition, it takes me back to the subject. It's a reminder of that wondrous mystical encounter in the Flint Hills.
By Michael Hooper
Investors are facing a new future with AI in stock research. Google's Bard will predict future stock prices.
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