Blogosphere: A Metaphor

Picture 250

Olive tree
Photo taken by Joann Pensabene in Palestine, April, 2011

Once a formless rogue in the realm of letters,

she found champions who set her in sunlight and cheered her to genre.

She rises, now, from a universal center

where intertwining roots live deep within exuberant, techno-cultural networks.

Free-flowing ideas sustain her.

Cultivated branches span time and space

as she embraces myriad premises.

Perspectives seed her soil.

Her content lives in her leaves,

and human consciousness sculpts her context.

Words Matter

On December 14, 2012 twenty children and six adults were shot at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. A military style weapon, the Bushmaster .223 caliber model XM15-E2S rifle with high capacity 30 round clips, was used by twenty year old Adam Lanza who, according to news reports, may have had a form of autism which is a developmental disorder.

Since that horrible day our shocked nation has plunged into a discussion surrounding the prevention of future similar tragedies as we mourn the victims of that senseless shooting. In essence, we are a nation in grief seeking ways to deal with the incomprehensible—the bullet-riddled imagery of babies. And we desire to leave no issue unaddressed as we strive toward our responsibility as citizens in a country that accepts gun ownership as a constitutional right.

And this is where things can get a bit murky. Part of our national conversation includes issues relative to our society’s mentally ill and their presumed tendency toward violence.

Much of our focus has been on the necessity of keeping guns out of the hands of those with psychiatric disorders. Indeed, we’re hard-pressed to find news reports, opinion pieces, investigations, and congressional hearings that do not carry the “mental illness-violence association.” Yet we run the risk of strengthening some existing, negative, social connotations that often feed our ideas and formulate our imagery regarding this group. For example, who has not heard that “lunatics” and “crazies” kill people, or that those who are “sick in the head” are the most capable of doing so in our society?

In actuality, this is far from the case. Though less than 7% of those diagnosed with a psychiatric disorder commit criminal acts, it is also true that the majority of those with mental illness in our country are not violent. They are, in fact, more likely to harm themselves than others. And they are the most likely to be preyed upon by other groups. This population is one of the most vulnerable among us. And the most stigmatized.

Our discrimination of this group is not new. People who think and behave inconsistently with cultural norms have always lived among us. It wasn’t until the latter half of the 20th century that technological advances allowed researchers to find ways of adjusting imbalanced brain chemistries within this group that allowed them to live within convention. These days most people with psychiatric disorders can live normal lives with the help of medications and various cognitive and talk therapies. But only if these treatments are readily available to those who need them.

Our mental health system is, like much of the rest of our health care system, difficult to access and expensive. People with psychiatric disorders need maintenance care. Many need medications throughout their lifetimes. Yet many people do not seek help because of stigma. And stigma continues because our culture has assigned mental health/illness issues a low priority.

It’s important to understand that our words matter along with the associations they express. Especially when there exist strong, social connotations. While we can benefit from discourse on mental illness within the context of gun and violence control, we run the danger of removing the focus from the event that shocked us into our dialogue. That Adam Lanza may have suffered from a form of autism is regrettable. That his parents had few health resources available to them added to their personal tragedy which, unfortunately, exploded into our national one. But we do a disservice to the millions of non-violent people with psychiatric disorders by allowing the continuation of the stereotype that they’ve been cast into.

The 26 people killed in Newtown were killed with a military style rifle that would have continued to have been banned under the Assault Weapons Ban of 1994. The ban expired during the Bush administration and was not reinstated. Another aspect of this tragedy.

More information can be found at the following links:

http://www.samhsa.gov/MentalHealth/understanding_Mentalllness_Factsheet.aspx

http://www.nami.org/Template.cfm?Section=press_room&template=/ContentManagement/ContentDisplay.cfm&ContentID=148650

http://www.whitehouse.gov/sites/default/files/docs/wh_now_is_the_time_full.pdf

http://www.nami.org/Content/ContentGroups/Home4/Home_Page_Spotlights/Spotlight_1/How_Would_Better_Mental_Health_Care_Reduce_Gun_Violence_.htm

http://www.nami.org/Template.cfm?Section=press_room&template=/ContentManagement/ContentDisplay.cfm&ContentID=148650http://thinkprogress.org/health/2013/01/30/1517271/gun-violence-hearing-franken/?mobile=wt

https://www.ncjrs.gov/pdffiles1/173405.pdf

http://www.csgv.org/issues-and-campaigns/assault-weapons/assault-weapons-faq

Mother Nature


Mother Nature

Mother Nature

She appeared just after Hurricane Irene blew down three trees

that had sheltered her for countless years.

Melded to a birch tree, she’s a goddess in the rough,

an unrefined beauty, alive and uncultivated.

Her eyes and mouth are mushrooms filled with layers of dirt, dust,

and other hardened, natural deposits.

Her nose is a broken tree branch pointing ever skyward.

And she watches over my home in the Adirondack State Park

in upstate New York.Mother Nature

Serendipity

This blog site’s design was not redesigned by design this week. It’s the result of an anomalous day that started with the question:

What do you do when you’re hunkered down during a snowstorm that could prevent you from leaving your warm, cozy house for a couple of days?

Well, of course, you tune into your local area news and to the Weather Channel for information.  You listen to reports of NEMO’s trek toward New York City and Boston. You shake your head, stare out your window at the three inches already on the ground. Snow has been falling for six hours and it’s predicted to continue through noon tomorrow. You check your food, water, and emergency supplies. You’re prepared. You breathe a sigh.

Of course, you’re hundreds of miles from the areas where the blizzard is bearing down.  Another sigh. You won’t get the brunt of the storm. You watch TV for a bit. You read. You work on the exercises from the blogging course you’re enrolled in. You’re restless so you clean your already clean house. You talk to Tessa who seems quite happy to go romping in the white stuff. She’s a six year-old, black lab who loves to problem-solve. You watch her from the window.  She digs her nose into different places in the yard as she searches for familiar scents. She stays out longer than you’d prefer. You worry about dropping temps and her ability to find her way home. But there’s no sense in worrying. She always gets home. She knows the woods around the house better than you do. You smile when she comes in and you dry her off with a light towel so she doesn’t shake the wetness all over the place. That would only mean more cleaning which you don’t want to do any more. Actually, you didn’t  want to do it in the first place. You aim was to keep busy. You wonder if you should watch a movie. You look through your Netflix queue, peruse your dvds. But you can’t decide what to watch and you scratch that idea.

You live in the mountains at the southern end of the North Country in New York. The storm has teased you all day. You’ve been through such storms many times. You know they can make you stir-crazy. You’ve already reached the high point of cabin fever over the past couple of months. And, by the way,  this hasn’t been too harsh a winter. Two days ago the sun was shining, temps were above zero and, and you went shopping for a few hours. What a beautiful day that was. Today, however,  you make a vigorous effort to keep as physically active and as intellectually agile as you can. It’s good for your creativity not to mention your mental health.

You play.

You go into your blog site editor and set your one and only blog post into as many free themes as you can. You experiment with styles, colors, images, widgets, applications, whatever you can manipulate. You combine every variable you have access to and you review the permutations that result. You focus on what ifs rather than accepting what is and you eventually hit upon an eye-catching outcome. You like it. You believe it suits your personality. At least for now. So you activate it.  You write a post to celebrate. And to honor your deadline.

It’s after 7:30 p.m. Still snowing. What do you do now?

Chocolate chip cookies and a cup of ginger tea.

 

 

Change

Change happens. Sometimes by necessity, sometimes by choice,  always filled with unique challenges and outcomes. Nothing remains static and change, often compelling, can be enhanced by the circumstances in which it occurs.

A few years ago I gave myself kudos for a life well-lived and for achieving a positive self image as I edged closer to entering a new era of personhood. Comfortable as I was with myself, however, the approaching of my 60 year mark felt overwhelming. I wanted to acclimate with a quiet birthday and agreed to a small dinner at a quiet restaurant with a few close family members. My husband and daughter had another plan. And I experienced its jolt when they pushed me into a room filled with people yelling, “Surprise,” in front of a banner that screamed, “Happy 60th Birthday.”

After the emotional shockwave settled, my attention turned to the layout of photos set around the room. There I was, my life in stills, all baby-faced smiles, scowls, and stances. Memories flowed as I shared the stories behind those snapshots. Suddenly those life transitions frozen across decades awakened and I became animated, excited about sharing myself and my birthday with these people who loved and supported me through many passing phases and solid commitments. My uneasiness about elderhood disappeared. I felt encouraged, energetic, and hopeful. A new door opened and I was eager to explore what lay ahead. So over the threshold I stepped.

[This is my first post. I started this blog with only one objective—to blog once a week. I have no specific theme to advance at present. This project represents yet another change in my life, another area to explore. What do you think about change? Let me know. Leave a comment. I’d love to hear from you.]