the tao of jaklumen

the path of the sage must become the path of the hero


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Happy Mother’s Day, through Good, Bad & The Ugly

I am still working on a post about the Mother Wound concept, so, for now- a post about Mother’s Day, from the archives.

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Mother’s Day can be a mixed bag for me.

My whole blogging experience started out with trying to sort out the anger I had with my mother, trying to heal a lot of inner wounds and self-loathing from past emotional rape and other traumatic experiences.  It didn’t help much that HER mother was also part of the dysfunctionally tangled web that was much of my childhood.

I had to set some of that aside when my mother was diagnosed with Parkinson’s.

That said, I must give credit where credit is due.  I was born and bred to be domestic.  My mother (and my grandmother) taught me a lot of skills as such that have served me very, very well.   I suppose this was easier to impart as I was the only male child.  I know it sparks a small amount of envy at times: I’ve said that I like…

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Candle in the window

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Bringing this up from the archive; #domesticviolence was an actual thing for us. (Really, really.)

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Candle in the window by jaklumen & family
Candle in the window, a photo by jaklumen & family on Flickr.

I love you, my dear, every time I go

You have a way to let me know

No matter how upset I may be

I know when I return, I can always see

That signal waiting home for me

Welcoming me home with light so low

That sign so warm, that candle in the window.

A candle in the window like this always let me know that it was okay to come home, after an argument.

Prayers and warm regards to Bill Hamilton (who is dealing with COPD), samara’s BFF (who is dealing with cancer), and a good friend of mine (who is dealing with T-cell lymphoma).

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REBLOG: …the father becomes the son. (more thoughts)

About a week ago, Cimmorene remembered where she was during my father’s near-death experience, and the weight of the sacrifice that I made to encourage my father to resume his life, so mine could begin.

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[ADDENDUM: 11 January, 2015]  When my father first told me of his near-death experience, many years ago, a flash of memory hit me, like a curtain being drawn from my mind, to reveal the light of the morning sun.

I remember begging, pleading with him, to go back, so that I would have a chance to be.  I did not remember all, but over the years, I came to know the deep sacrifices that were made in those moments.  I would revisit them when he nearly died, again, and each time I climbed up on the surgeon’s table, the last time being the 7th of January, 2015.

This is my Atonement with the Father.

JOR-EL: Once, when you were small, I died, while giving you a chance for life.

It was a shock when I saw him.  He was wandering around aimlessly, obviously not in his body.  He was NOT…

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REBLOG: When women abuse boys.

Three years after I wrote this post, a news story broke that was much closer to where I live. This woman was not a teacher, but was the town mayor for a time, and her husband was the high school principal. The name? Linda Lusk, then 49. The boy? Only 14 at the time. The town? Prosser, WA, just 45 minutes from my home.

The news agency that covered the story– 20/20 and ABC News– also covered the story of Mary Kay Letourneau. Years later they returned to both MKLT and Lusk, and in my opinion, whitewashed a lot of their stories. Fualaau, LeTourneau, and the two girls– now teenagers– were portrayed as a happy family. Lusk was shown with a young 20-something man who was supposedly the new love of her life. No mention was made that he was married, and eventually returned to his wife and child.

See also A Survivor’s Journey: The Challenge of Triggers & the Media

the tao of jaklumen

                          <div>         I'm an avid reader of periodicals. I generally read more news in print than I do online.

The Associated Press recently decided to do a series of stories on teachers who sexually abuse their students. I was shocked at their emphasis on male teachers. Have the stories of Pamela Smart, Mary Kay LeTourneau, and Debi LaFave said nothing that did not bear repeating? While many offenders may indeed be male, it in no way diminishes the crimes of those who are female.

I decided to research the stories of the women a little more. On the surface, the horrors seem apparent enough. Smart’s case seems especially bizarre to me since the media focus was on the murder of her husband. There is fairly discussion of her methods of preying on Bill Flynn. LeTourneau had two children by her victim, and is now married to him. LaFave currently blames her…

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Fortune Cookie Ponderings

Please give Cimmy some blog love. She hasn’t been writing as much lately (been more into gaming)

jak & Cimmy's Journal Jar

The other day following a dinner at one of the local Chinese Buffets, the cookie following my meal had an interesting fortune.  It said  “You long to own your own home and family is all important to you,” or something similar to that.  My husband, jaklumen, suggested I write a post on it.  So here I am tapping away at the buttons of my keyboard, trying to come up with something you might find interesting or that might, at least, perk your interest.  Personally, I’m not sure how interesting you’ll find philosophical discussions with regards to fortune cookie inserts.  Still, it’s worth a shot, right?

6566848537_8977d5444e_m Christmas Fire with Mom and Son

So, my family lives in a home that we aren’t renting.  Still, technically, we don’t own it.  It’s under mortgage, a payment that jak pays every month without fail.  The main reason we bought are buying the house in which…

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The Wilderness

Please read. A subtext of the Hero’s Journey is Jungian archetypes and reconnecting with the true feminine and masculine. Robert Bly (Iron John: A Book about Men), Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette (King, Warrior, Magician, Lover: Rediscovering the Archetypes of the Mature Masculine), Marion Woodman (The Maiden King: The Reunion of Masculine and Feminine, with Robert Bly) and many others have written about this.

Elisabeth writes about taking the Path of the Wilderness, and resurrecting the inner feminine that she had rejected in the face of childhood abuse.

Beating Trauma

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As a trauma survivor in recovery, I have spent a long time in the wilderness. It isn’t an actual wilderness. I am not a fan of the outdoors. Nature and my dissociative defense mechanism are not compatible. I am speaking of the wilderness that is often the subject of the spiritual texts. It seems that before most protagonists find their mission or purpose, there is some period of waiting. There is some period of preparing, of letting go of the old.  And it makes sense to me. I don’t see another way. If the foundation is shaky, it cannot be built upon.

But I hate it.

I carry a large amount of masculine energy with me. I rejected that which was feminine many years ago in my attempts to avoid the loathing that my parents spewed upon their little girls. I figured that if the feminine was so easily abused…

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The son becomes the father…

Atonement… becoming one with someone, is a process. I still find myself disciplining my son by the ugly traditions of my father, and his father before him. I do not feel courage attempting to break the cycle; I feel weak. Afraid. I feel anger towards my son sometimes, but it is really anger towards myself, and my father. It is hard to loosen that terrified grip, to submit, and be free.

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I would have put “10-year blogging journey” in the title, but that was starting to become clunky, and so I omitted it.  But just for your reference, dear readers, I’m picking up where I left off from New Life and the VOX years.

“One must have a faith that the father is merciful, and then a reliance on that mercy.” — Joseph Campbell

I had very mixed feelings about having a boy in my family.  Memories of being bullied by boys was too fresh in my mind.  Middle-school classmates called me “faggot” and “queer”, and chastised me for discovering I was into hardcore porn.  I was deathly afraid for years that the homoerotic aspects of my otherwise heterosexual fantasies would be discovered.  It took me a lot just to admit this to Cimmorene, much less to anyone else.  I also repressed a lot of memories of my father beating…

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