Too close for comfort. Too sick to love.

Dedicated to Newton and Sandy Hook

A tragedy like that which occurred on Friday 12/14/12 in Connecticut where 20 children and 7 adults died rivets a nation in its tracks. No one is left untouched or unscathed. Our hearts are broken as we scan the children's photos. We are left to wonder: "Why?!" I grew up spending every other Christmas with Uncle Steve and Aunt Helen (and brood) in Sandy Hook, CT. Before contemplating what happened from a mostly Jungian perspective, I will share that the only postcard on my refrigerator on 9/11/2001 was a picture of the Towers with a blurred seagull in the foreground. I was moving to a new home and had removed everything else from the refrigerator door. My sister had been visiting New York and inside the Towers the week before the living nightmare. I was affected by Colorado incidents as well. When I was living in Florida and anticipating a move to Colorado, my favorite neighborhood was Ken Caryl. Had there been a single home for sale in there, our kids would have attended Columbine. And JonBenet Ramsey was my oldest daughter's age and when we arrived in Boulder, Bella made friends who had known the dear child. Finally Liz was at the midnight Batman premier in Boulder while only 45 minutes away in Aurora people were being murdered at the same event. Too close for comfort.


Ironically I begin my Christmas letter (that I wrote weeks ago) saying that this holiday I am sensing a festive spirit and connectedness – a reaching out – combined with an Angst, a feeling that at any minute everything could come crashing down. And, for some this week, it did. Here’s what I think: We all know that joy will not be found in a perfume, in a new car, a raise, a vacation, a ring, your partner or new shoes. But, on the other hand, how do we connect more deeply with everyone around us? Do we see the cashier at Safeway as sacred? Do we see the person who just cut us off as sacred? (Okay, okay, I use that one repeatedly, because that is a particular challenge for me having grown up in LA where driving is a constant race to win).

Reverend Carlton Pearson

It’s our exclusionary society that is destroying us (and I know I'm judging judgement so I will work on that). It’s why I chose not to join any formally organized college groups and why I left organized religion. Just by its very nature a group with specific rules requires there to be outsiders and insiders. There’s a feeling of “us” vs. “them.” It is tribal thinking and other than Reverend Carlton Pearson (featured this week on This American Life) most groups choose individuals exactly like themselves to be in the group. Reverend Pearson lost his congregation because he realized it's HUMANS who create Hell. He advocates a "doctrine of inclusion." On the same token, I don’t judge people who choose to be a part of a club or church, because they are deriving community and support and often coming together to do a lot of good. What I’m proposing is that there might be no rules to love and loving. If a religious individual comes to my door with the intent to convert me, their judgment is implied. If I can't join a group because I'm white (haha), there is judgment. If a religious person comes to my door asking what kind of support do I need and they are offering it without intent to convert, than that is the love and connection that will save.

How can we love our neighbors, the strangers with whom we engage, our family members more fully? I don’t know the answer, but I do know that these horrific acts are not only serious mental illness manifest (and the mentally ill do not receive enough funding since the Reagan administration) but also an expression of the darkest part of each of us. It is a reflection of the way we turn our head and look the other way; of the way we attach strings and withhold love. We exclude, we lie, we think it’s someone else’s problem. They are the sick ones. Not me. 

When I was mentally ill (at least I have the illusion I am well now ;), I was too absorbed in my inability to crawl out of a hole to look around me, to care what was going on, to help others. There are so many who need our help, but we must begin at home. Killers will always find weapons (although we could make them far less available!), but by healing the projection of our hidden darkness – by looking within and taking responsibility for any anger, any pettiness, any place we are too sick to love – we will be a part of a world that is changing for the better.