Sensing the Past

In my field of psychotherapy, I often work with clients to examine their past in order to give context to their present.  Clearly, many of our behaviors as adults have their genesis in our childhoods.  We seem to place great effort as adults on living in the past, dealing with the past, escaping the past, wanting the past, or attempting to recreate the past.  I do not wish to delve into the dysfunction of my past or any other’s past in this posting, but rather, to look at some of my behaviors in the context of recreating sensory experiences of my past.  By sensory I mean what I have experienced with senses--my taste, my ears, my smell, my eyes and my touch--and how those senses offer me comfort in the present. 

My wife can tell you about some of my “comfort” foods from my childhood: pot roast, meat loaf, coconut cream pie, Jello Fluff (a dessert made on graham cracker crust topped with whipped gelatin), deserts in general, and peas.  I will sometimes order something in a restaurant that sounds similar to what I ate in my childhood with the hope that it will indeed by similar.  It rarely compares.  But give me some homemade pot roast on a Sunday afternoon….  (A confession: my wife’s pot roast while similar is better than my mom’s!)  Yummm.

Musically, we baby boomers love to listen to music from earlier days. For me, my longing for earlier music goes not only to rock music, what I would listen to on the AM radio, but to the music played in my home either before or concurrent with the likes of the Beatles and the Beach Boys.  For example, I have purchased the music or possess recordings in some form of old singing groups like The Mills Brothers and The Ink Spots.  It is likewise comforting to listen Perry Como, Nat King Cole, and to the western sound of Jimmy Dean.  I would also put in this aural category the monologues of comedian Bill Cosby  that I listened to growing up and which have likewise become favorites of my children.  When I listen to him now, it feels like I’m getting reacquainted with an old friend.  And just this week I purchased a CD recording of an obscure flautist, Thijs Van Leer, whose music I had on cassette in the 80s but which had gotten lost.  Ahhhh yeah.

               

As Ann and I gradually make interior and exterior improvements in our Tujunga home, I have expressed a desire to place some jasmine bushes in the back yard underneath our bedroom windows so that the comforting, strong smell of that flower can help me relax at the end of the day.   Whenever I smell cedar these days, I go right back to my room in my childhood days when I was surrounded by a cedar chest, a cedar armoire, and a cedar drawer configuration that had a 50s era round mirror on top.  When Ann cooks that Sunday pot roast and that wonderful odor fills the house, I feel a pleasant contentment that in that moment, all is right with the world.  Sniffffff.

More than once I have tortured my kids by dragging them in my car to see the empty lot in Salt Lake City where the house was to which I came home from the hospital after my traumatic birth, the house that I grew up in and the alley behind that house where I used to play, the streets and homes of my old neighborhood, the church building where I attended Sunday services, and my alma mater, West High School.  (Both my elementary and junior high schools no longer exist)

More than once I have tortured my kids by dragging them in my car to see the empty lot in Salt Lake City where the house was to which I came home from the hospital after my traumatic birth, the house that I grew up in and the alley behind that house where I used to play, the streets and homes of my old neighborhood, the church building where I attended Sunday services, and my alma mater, West High School.  (Both my elementary and junior high schools no longer exist) I have taken them by the Salt Lake Tabernacle where my high school graduation took place, by Ensign Peak where I used to hike and have fun adventures, and to the family cabin in Emigration Canyon where I played and had adventures, and where the kids had the “privilege” of living for a few winter months while a home was being built.  Some of these sites have often been the visual location of dreams, perhaps a deep longing in my heart for gentler, simpler times.  Yesssss.

Not much exists in 2011 from my childhood that I can touch.  Mom has long since passed away.  Friends have scattered to the four winds. The furniture is gone as is the clothing.  Vehicles have probably been recycled or are in some landfill.  All that is left to touch from those simpler days—is me.  And while the body is bigger and getting a little wrinkled now, my Bobby spirit, my inner child, still inhabits it, and occasionally adult Bob likes to feel in his senses what young Bobby used to feel so many years ago.  A transition to the past?



A Much Needed Interlude With My Siblings

The Salt Lake Valley

When Ann and I and our kids moved to Southern California in 1994, we did so to enable me to be where the used clothing industry was centered in the western United States.  At that time, Ann's parents and a cousin were living in Orange County, and we would visit routinely.  Her father passed away not many years after but there was still Grandma Paxman to visit.  Grandma's physical and mental health began to deteriorate and after being placed in an assisted living facility in OC and living there a few years, Ann and her siblings decided that it was best for her to be near Ann's brother Rick and his wonderful wife, Amy, in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

We moved after 10 years from the Santa Clarita Valley to Los Angeles, and specifically to Mt. Washington, in 2004.  What a wonderful house it was, but as the nest emptied, we decided to move to a smaller, lest costly home.  In January of 2010, we moved to our current little rambler in Tujunga, built and formerly owned, by the way, by the aunt of the famous pop singer Neil Diamond. (Neighbors tell us that in his getting started years, Neil Diamond would sleep nights in a particular bedroom of this, Aunt Sylvia's home.  As such, we have picture on the wall in the very room which is now where we watch TV.)

What I am writing about today is that in September, 2011, our four children no longer live with us (two are still in Southern California while one is in Washington state and the other lives in New York.  And while Ann's cousin Vic and his great wife Eleanor still live in Orange County, we have NO extended family.   This has been a challenging transition for me.  I sometimes wish that Ann and I could just jump in the car on a Saturday afternoon and drive a few miles to visit my brother Tom or my sister Darlene.  But alas, the Wasatch Front in Utah is a good nine hour drive from where we live.

One of the reasons for downsizing our living arrangement was to have money with which to spend on visiting farflung kids and extended family.  We have been able to do so, and that takes some of the sting out of being far away.  So I am excited to be able to attend a convention next week in cojunction with my profession being held in Salt Lake City, and then be able to spend time with my siblings in the evenings.   I'll likely be spending the nights with one of them, going out to dinner, and even attending a BYU football game on Friday night.  (Goooooo Cougars!!!)  Going to this convention allows me to write off traveling expenses as I spend much needed emotional connecting time with my siblings and their spouses.  I smile just thinking about it....   

My Favorite Non-Choral Classical Music List

If you've read the bio on this blog, if you know me personally, or if you are one of my children, you will surely know of my great love of music.  All kinds of music.  I must admit that I did not have much exposure to classical music until I married Ann.  To those who know little or nothing about classical music, it may appear like I have become an expert.  But anyone who knows a great deal about classical music will quickly figure out that this list is composed (no pun intended) of standards, although I have included pieces not normally found on such a list.

What genre of music I listen to depends upon my mood.  I can listen to classical, jazz, country western, rock, heavy rock, and occasionally some way out stuff like punk, trance, or drum and bass.  Whatever the genre, I like most of my music loud--except for classical.  But just let music accompany my life.  That will make me very happy.  But then, in the spirit of transitioning of this blog, who is to say what new genres, new film scores, new undiscovered classical pieces I may discover? 

40.  Rossini  "The Thieving Magpie"  Wonderful, whimsical music I came to love while living in Argentina. 

39.  Handel  “Music for Fireworks”  My favorite of Papa Handel, one of the major influences on Mozart.

38.  Barry  “John Dunbar Theme from Dances With Wolves”   Great new music being composed for movies.

37.  Faure  “Pavane”  Longingly, elegant, impressionistic music.

36.   J.S. Bach  “Suite #3 Air”  A very famous, lovely, sweetly melodic piece.

35.   Saint-Saens  “Symphony No. 3 in C minor-Organ Symphony”  This piece was made famous from the movie "Babe."

34.  Rachmanioff  “Prelude in C Sharp Minor”  A haunting, left-hand heavy, romantic piece, meant to be performed. 

33.  Grieg  “Peer Gynt”  Fun music from my childhood.

32.  Rimsky Korsakov  “Scheherezade”  Exotic and mysterious.  I can see a beautiful woman dancing in a tent... 

31.  Badalamenti  “The Straight Story”  The whole soundtrack from this movie is haunting, enchanting, entertaining.

30.  Elgar  “Pomp and Circumstance”  The uber famous graduation music.  Came to love this while living in Argentina.

29.  Strauss  “On the Beautiful Blue Danube”  This for me is the best waltz ever.

28.  Bizet  “Suite from Carmen”  The King's Singers do a marvelous acapella take-off of this.

27.  Tchaikovsky  “The Nutcracker Suite”  The old Christmas standby.

26.  Debussy  “Claire de Lune”  This is probably on many people's favorite.

25.  Satie  “Gimnopedies #1”  I first heard a cover of this from the jazz-rock group Blood, Sweat and Tears. 

24.  Mozart  “Overture to the Marriage of Figaro”  Famous piece that sounds like Mozart.

23.  Tchaikovsky  “Swan Lake”   A famous, beautiful piece of classical fair.

22.  Mozart “Ave Verum”  This number will appear on my choral favorites list I will do as well.

21.  Mozart “Piano Concerto #21”   Quintessential, perfect Mozart.

20.  Gershwin  “Rhapsody In Blue”  My favorite of Gershwin compositions.

19.  J.S. Bach  “Brandenburg Concerto #3  My favorite of all of the Brandenburg Concerti.

18.  Tarrega  “Recuerdos de la Alhambra”  Beautiful, emotional guitar music.

17.  Debussy  “Golliwog’s Cakewalk   A whimsical, fun piece.

16.  Copeland  “Fanfare for the Common Man”  Surely this will be played in the heavens.         

15.  Mozart  “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik”  This is a Mozart standard.  The "Lacrimosa" from Mozart's Requiem will be very high on my list of Choral music that I will make at a future date.

14.  Vaughn Williams  “Fantasia on Greensleeves”  Beautiful, lovely music.

13.  Rachmaninoff “Piano Concerto #2”  One of my favorites of all the romantic pieces.

12.  Sibelius  “Finlandia”  One of the movements of this great work was one of my first childhood exposures to music.

11.  Rodrigo  “Concierto de Aranjuez”  A majestic, emotion-evoking piece of guitar music.

10.  Copeland  “Rodeo”  I love Copeland's American sound and this work typifies it completely.

9.  Beethoven  “Moonlight Sonata”  A brooding, haunting, maasterpiece.

8.   Holst  “The Planets”  Different music for each of the planets.  I like Jupiter the best.

7.  Beethoven “Symphony #9”  This will also appear on my choral list for the last movement "Ode to Joy." 

6.  Debussy  “Reverie”  I've always loved this thoughtful work.  It is my favorite of all Debussy's music.

5.  Dvorak “New World Symphony”  The song "Goin' Home," sung at my grandfather's funeral, is based on the 2nd Movement of the NWS.

4.  Vivaldi “The Four Seasons”  I love all four pieces, especially when I am driving in nature.

3.  Rossini “William Tell Overture”   Hi-ho-Silver.  This fun music has been in numerous Bugs Bunny cartoons.

2.  Copeland “Appalachian Spring”  Hard to pick this my #2.  I'd like this played at my funeral.

1.  Barber “Adagio for Strings”   I cannot listen to this without feeling great emotion.

My next list will be of my favorite rock and hard rock pieces.  I have wondered if Mozart had been born in my generation, what genre of music would he have embraced?  Makes me think of "Bill and Ted's Great Adventure...."

One on One

ONE might think that because of the profession I have embraced, I would be a “people person,” someone who always loves to be with a lot of people.  If I am a “people person,” I very much prefer to be with just one other person.  Being in a group, whether it be of 4 or 400 or 4000 people, has always made me feel a bit uncomfortable.  I don’t consider myself anti-social and it’s not like I avoid groups.  And being in a group where I know everyone is no problem, such as with my wife and another couple, a therapy group, or attending religious services.  But being with just one other person is simply easier for me.

The discomfort may have had its genesis at not having siblings around as I grew up. Since there was not much interaction with my parents, I kind of fended for myself.  I learned at a fairly early age how to entertain myself and to be alone with my thoughts.  When not occasionally playing with a single friend, I would invent and play games with myself (and keep statistics on some of the competitive ones), build sheet and blanket playhouses using the clothesline downstairs, create a bunker in the thermally cool “fruit room” downstairs underneath the outside porch where our food storage was kept, or build a playhouse in the basement using numerous lengths of 2x4 wood.  I would outfit this boy-cave with a lantern, a Coleman cooler for food and drink, games, and any of my neat treasures.  It was just me and my imagination. 

The older I got, the more I interacted with friends, one at a time usually. In high school, I began to be involved in larger groups but I considered myself kind of socially inept.  I must not have been too inept because I was one of the more popular kids, but self-perception is everything, especially to a teenager.  By the time I attended college, I went back to my comfort zone and would routinely hang out with just one other person, male or female.

Looking back over the years, I have rarely spoken up in groups, choosing to watch and listen.  To this day, I will often watch and listen, but I am attempting to be more pro-active in my participation.  I am challenging myself to speak up even if I think that what I have to say is pretty routine or even self-serving.  Small talk is fine, and everything that comes out of my mouth does not have to be pithy or even important.  Occasionally, people in a group may even be interested in what I have to say.

This is an uncomfortable transition for me but I am doing better.  But the truth is: doing one-on-one therapy suits me!

A Place to Pursue Change

As I near 2000 hours of doing psychotherapy, I am becoming more comfortable with how I do it—my “style” so to speak.  When I was still enrolled at Philips Graduate Institute and started meeting with those first clients, I had all kinds of therapies floating around my head.  I was trying to identify which one I would embrace or which one felt right.  I was meeting with “generic” clients, individual and couples, with “generic” issues.  I was still doing pastoral counseling with the Young Adults.

I focused in my later semesters on Sexual Addiction, and I eventually became involved with LifeSTAR Network, a co-ed program for sexual addicts and their spouses.  That involved leading couples and groups and occasionally doing individual therapy with them.  About the time that I graduated I was released from my pastoral calling and asked to be a group leader (along with my wife Ann) of the Addiction Recovery Program of my Stake (my diocese).  Since then, I have been leading or participating in the direction of two groups a week that focus on the Twelve Steps.  Presently, I am leading or participating in four groups a week (two LifeSTAR and two ARP) four nights a week.



The Mechanics of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy

 A number of the people I see these days in individual counseling are recovering addicts.  That has been a function of people being referred for that specific purpose either by my agency for whom I work and by whom I am sponsored, Pilgrimage Counseling, or by local pastoral figures of my stake who know that I am a therapist and who have come to know me as an addiction “specialist.” 

I have become very comfortable working with people in addiction, particularly sexual addiction.  My “style” has evolved to be an amalgam of cognitive behavioral therapy, Imago therapy, narrative therapy among other therapies, LifeSTAR recovery, and a healthy dose of Twelve Steps.  

Harville Hendrix - The Creator of Imago Therapy

I use whatever I sense the individual needs to begin a new narration in their life.  I am directive.  I go to their past only to get context for the present and to understand what issues they need to be dealing with going forward.  If they have been exposed to the Twelve Steps or have some kind of religious foundation or sensibilities, I will freely discuss how their spirituality might affect their journey or their recovery.  I go a positive place with them and express to them my belief in their ability to change.  For better or for worse, I see my relationship with my clients as being horizontal rather than vertical; that is, I do not see myself as the all knowing, all wise poobah, but rather, a fellow traveler down the dysfunctional path who has learned some things along the way that have worked for me and that might be useful for them.  I am real; what you see is what you get.

So are there still oodles and gobs of knowledge and experiences that I lack in this new profession to be sure.  Do I catch myself occasionally saying things that perhaps would be better left unsaid?  Yes sir.  But am I improving as the days and months go by?  Undoubtedly.  It has been a gradual transition from where I started to where I am now and it will continue to be a transition to greater competence in the years to come.  But I am enjoying the journey and enjoying each session, and feeling like I (and God) are doing some good.

The Reason We’re Not All Here is Because We’re Not All There

For much of my life, I have always been preoccupied about the future.  It’s not about a fear of the end of the world.  Rather, I’ve identified it as a focus on “what’s next,” “what I need to become,” and an inability to live in and enjoy the here and now. 

This way of thinking first came to me as I reflected on my time serving a mission for the LDS Church between the ages of 19 and 21.  Besides being an overall emotional mess during those two years, I remember always being worried about what I wasn’t; that I was never quite good enough.  I established a high bar for myself which I could never achieve, and in retrospect I likely was always in a low-level depressed state.  It was challenging for me to not worry about what I wasn’t since in my mind serving a proselyting mission for the Church required a high level of spirituality and dedication.  I allowed what I wasn’t to distract me from feeling the present. I was always beating myself up, unable to appreciate the singular events around me which happened routinely.  I had many awesome experiences in those 24 months, but the time could have been so much more and I could have been happier.

Up until a few years ago, I was caught in this same “future” vortex.  I had a breakthrough as a result of learning in graduate school about the importance of “being in the here and now” with clients. There are particular therapies that focus not on the past or what people aren’t, but on the present and what people are.  As I learned about these therapies, they resonated with me, they felt RIGHT.  I realized that I should not only focus my therapies in my future practice on the here and now, but that it was the way that I should focus my life.  When I finally began implementing this mindset each day, it was a great feeling to finally let go.  The transition continued while I implemented this paradigm shift as I went on a vacation with Ann to visit some of her family in Maryland.  The evening we arrived I made a promise to myself that during the duration of the vacation I would focus completely on what was happening in the very moment and not concern myself about what was to happen the next day or a few days hence.  I wanted to be completely invested in interacting with the family and to just “go with the flow.” I am pleased to report that these were some of the greatest days that I had experienced in years.  I felt focused and contented in the present.  I felt part of the extended family, and I really tried to live in the moment what we were doing.

This transition is continuing on.  As I have become more involved with addiction recovery recently in my profession and in my church responsibilities, and have come to more fully understand and embrace its precepts, I have also allowed the Serenity Prayer, so much a part of addiction recovery, to become an integral part of my own recovery from a never-contented “future” person to a calmer, more grace-oriented “now” person.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And wisdom to know the difference.                                                                        

In this transition, I have given and continue to give to God each day my weaknesses and inadequacies, all that I am not, and try to live right now in His mercy and grace (Tenth Step!).  As I embrace what I am not, and focus with courage on what I can do and am doing and becoming right now, I feel the serenity spoken of in the Prayer.  And to quote a famous phrase, “that has made all the difference in the world!”

The Ultimate Transition

Pocatello Idaho Cemetary where Jeanne Harten is now buried

I guess death is the ultimate transition.  It is a transition that I would prefer not to experience at this point in my life although I do not fear it.  When loved ones pass on, we who are left are forced to make a transition in our own lives—to an existence now without them. 

The mother of a very good friend experienced that ultimate transition last night.  I have known this friend for 40 years, and over that long span of time he has always spoken in loving tones about his uniquely wonderful relationship with her.  Our conversations have always seemed to include an appropriate update on her.  Throughout his entire adult life -- through transitions of school, dating, marriage, children, career, and life’s challenges, she has been a towering presence. Early on, she served as mentor, guide, and confidant.  As time rolled by and he became more confident in his abilities and judgments, she appropriately receded into the role of cheerleader, supporter, and advice giver when asked.  In later years as she experienced a colossal number of health challenges, my good friend has become her cheerleader and caretaker, and source of supply of grandchildren whom she has powerfully loved.

I have always felt some kind of kinship with her as a result.  She was a significant part of him; he has been a significant part of me, so subsequently she has been a significant part of me.  And I feel a sweet loss this morning.  Life will still go on, but it will be a little less wonderful because of her transition.  I am grateful for my faith in the Plan, of life after death, an existence free of pain and suffering for her, and I smile as I think of her blessed reunion with her husband and the literal tens of thousands of relatives whom she came to know as a result of a life dedicated to genealogy.  What a fantastic woman she was…. J

Questioning the Waves

For much of my life, when something negative has resulted because of my negligence, my carelessness, my inattentiveness, my weakness,  my humanity, I have emotionally put myself down--beaten myself up.  I can't say that I saw this self punishment demonstrated in my home growing up.  I'm not sure that I learned it from any person.  But doing it has been a significant part of me, haunting me, possessing me, making me feel very bad about myself, and I often have felt powerless to stop the cascading waves of ugly feelings.  

In the past, when this veritable tsunami has washed over me, I have felt as if I were in a toilet that was flushing--spinning round and round and sinking deeper and deeper, unable to stop the feelings. Those who do this to themselves know exactly what it feels like.  It is an incredibly dark place.

I have done it for so long that I have become very adept at it.  I know well the continual, seemingly unending chatter inside my head; calling myself stupid, inept, and any other adjective that serves to make myself feel terrible.  In those moments, I have sometimes felt that I deserved to feel this way.  That I deserved whatever bad happened as a result of my poor performance.

Years ago, when my children starting behaving in a way that was contrary to what I felt that I had taught them, I really struggled.  I looked at myself as a father and accused myself of failing at this most important responsibility.  The negative self-talk was brutal.  I would look at their "poor" behavior and tell myself that I was responsible for it; that my "nurture" or lack thereof, had caused it.  Because of my spiritual understanding, however, my faith told me that they had lived in heaven before they came to earth for who knows how long.  I had only been able to influence them for a relatively short time.  They had their own personalities and characters, their own "natures."  I struggled to deal with the age-old existential question of "nature vs. nurture."

I came to realize over time as I saw both their less than optimal and their optimal behavior, that I couldn't be entirely responsible for both, and I began to let go of some of those "put myself down" feelings.  But I still struggled with day-to-day failures that I considered I had caused.  It was still very easy to slip into the negative self-talk.  Probably on some absurd level, it was comforting to not deal with the issue and question it but just let the waves roll over me or flush the toilet, whatever metaphor works. 

It took understanding myself better as a result of personal psychotherapy and my coursework to get my psychology degree to finally change my response to the tsunami.  And frankly, dealing with this phenomenen with others as I do therapy has helped as well because I see myself in them.  What I have learned to do is to ask myself two questions, in the aftermath of a situation in which a negative result has occured because of my perceived weakness:

1. Why am I feeling this way right now?
2. What benefit will it give me to continue feeling this way?

In other words, when I do this, I am taking the overwhelming feelings to a cognitive, thinking place.  I am interrupting the waves, questioning what is happening to me.  I have learned that as I have repeatedly done this little brain exercise, I am essentially reprogramming my brain.  So when the initial event(s) occur these days, those two questions pop into my mind.  I deal with the negative overwhelming feelings immediately and after I ask the questions, the waves begin to ebb and the mind chatter begins to fade to nothing.  I may still feel a bit bad because of what has happened, but I now calm myself and put it in the experience column.  These days I am even able to look at what occured and objectively decide what I can learn from it--what I should or shouldn't do in the future so that the negative outcome is avoided.

To be sure, because of my humanity I still do or don't things that have negative consequences.  But I am well into this particular transition, one that makes me feel so much better about myself and one that I am very proud of!

My Core Issue of Emotional Abandonment

As I do psychotherapy with clients, I will sometimes bring up the concept of core issue work.  Most of us have one or more core issues or challenges which surface repeatedly over the course of our lives.  For me, they have manifested themselves in my relationship with my wife specifically, but with significant others generally, and are usually rooted in deep unexpressed fears.  Core issues almost always cause all sorts of problems, but if viewed as opportunities, I can have a better life.  Here are the most common core issues and their related fears:

1) Abandonment - Nobody cares about me.  I'm all alone.  I don't matter.
2) Arrogance - I'm worse than everyone.  I'm always wrong and you're always right.
3) Damage - Something is wrong with me.  I'm damaged.  I'm flawed.  I'm a failure.
4) Inferiority - I'm not good enough.  I'm worthless.  I'm hopeless.  I'm stupid.  I'm boring.
5) Rejection - I'm unwanted.  I'm a burden.  Nobody wants to spend time with me.
6) Shame - I'm bad.  I'm a mistake.  I'm evil.  I may be exposed as a fraud.

Our core issues often originate from childhood family scenarios--especially in my case.  They can be the result of negative messages that were repeated many times to us by parents or significant other people in our lives.  Or one of these beliefs may have been driven deeply into us during one or more traumatic experiences.  But dealing with a core issue can gradually shift a deeply ingrained fear, thus overcoming a lack of acceptance of ourselves and a deep feeling of being disconnected--from ourselves, from others, from our spiritual nature, or any combination of these.

However, if a person has a significant breakthrough in identifying and transforming a core issue, he/she eventually finds the same issue rearing its ugly head in a different, perhaps more subtle form.  Transforming fear through working on my core issue has been like peeling away layers of an onion.  But as I have peeled, my life has become richer, more meaningful, and more enjoyable than it was before.

In my transition from living in fear by my core belief--abandonment--I have cultivated an ever increasing awareness of how and when my core issue is triggered, but as stated previously, it rears its head in slightly different forms.  Even after working on my core issue for a number of years, it popped up just yesterday and the day before.

I was talking to Ann the day before yesterday prior to her returning home from an 11 day trip to the East Coast to attend a conference, visit her sister and her family, and to spend time with Emily and Adam and their four kids in Brooklyn.  As we have talked daily about her experiences, Ann has recounted her impressions of conversations held, what she has done there, and in general, her exciting life interacting with people.  She hadn't said anything about me other than asking what I had been doing.  I admit that I had waited for her to state that she was missing me and was looking forward to eventually coming home--which was an unrealistic expectation on my part, totally inappropriate based upon the hectic nature of her itinerary, especially in Brooklyn with the four kids under 3 years old.  And on this day, prior to coming home, I was really hoping that she would say something about missing me.  I stopped myself from saying anything; I realized that this was a trigger and on a deep level I was afraid, and that I needed to soothe myself and take care of little Bobby, the abandoned child inside of me. Luckily, I did so, and looked to be supportive in the conversation and took pleasure in her excitement about what was happening to her there.

Last night, after she had come home and eaten a dinner that I basically had prepared for her and that she only needed to warm up, I got home at 7:45pm from seeing seven clients.  When I warmed up my dinner and sat down, I expected her to want to sit down by me and spend time with me.  However, she was in the middle of doing something on her computer, so I ended up essentially eating by myself.  Again, I recognized that I had been triggered and I had to soothe myself and make this about me and my abandonment core issue and not about her.  In retrospect, she probably would have come to sit down with me if I had only asked her, but I didn't ask.  To my delight, a couple of times she did come out briefly to the eating area, looked over my shoulder at the article I was reading while eating, and touched me lovingly on my arm, back, and shoulder. 

I recount these events to show that I am working on a transition of dealing with my core issue of emotional abandonment.  It is a journey, but one in which I am having success.  I realize more than ever that it is a cognitive choice to face my fear and to recognize that it is a chance to grow.  This transition is bringing about a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that I am progressing.  And when appropriate, I can talk about my successes with my clients!

The BIG Transition

It was great to write about my cruise adventure to Alaska.  Perhaps it was a transition of sorts because it was doing something that I had wanted to do but had not had the vacation time or the money to do, and in reality, had not really thought we could do.  It probably was a transition to a place where I say I WANT to do something instead of excuses why I cant.  But for those who do not know me intimately, I need to write about the BIG transition that took place in the past five years.

Since returning in December 1980 from Japan where I taught English, I have been involved in all aspects of the textile recycling business, and I do mean all aspects.  But almost from those first days in January 1981, I did not find fulfillment in the "rag" business.  I looked at teaching, going so far as to do student teaching in the Seminary and Institute program of my Church.  I flirted with becoming a professional tour guide and becoming involved as a travel agent.  I actually worked for a time managing a manufacturing business but kept my fingers in textile recycling.  I spent hours looking at other employment opportunities, even going so far as to consider returning to live in Japan.  I simply felt restless.  I even spent some years being self-employed, working as a broker and facilitator in the "rag" business, but money was hard to come by and I eventually closed that down.

I had an opportunity to outright purchase a wiping cloth company, and in anticipation of that action moved us to Los Angeles from where we lived in Santa Clarita, California.  But based upon the recommendations of an business acquisition attorney and an accountant against pulling the trigger and buying the company, I decided not to do it.  I now had come to a point where I was in my 50s with the prospect of working for a company doing something that no longer excited me, that actually bored me, that did not use the talents I knew I had.  But God knew this and had plans to help me set a new course, to effect a transition in my life.

First of all, in consequence of our son Robert's drug addiction problems and the stress that issue placed on our marriage, we had been seeing a psychotherapist.  I had been talking with her about my unhappiness and lack of fulfillment and passion, and she gently began suggesting ideas to me about what I might consider to move forward.  It was in this general time period, in 2006, that I was unexpectedly called to be a pastoral figure, a bishop, of a Young Single Adult congregation of the Church.  Coincidentally, my wife Ann was about to go through her own transition: she had decided to further her education (and increase her wages from her work as a mathematics professor at Pasadena Community College) and obtain her Educational Doctorate

Bishop Robert E. Davis - Glendale 7th

As I settled into this position, I soon realized that other than presiding at meetings and speaking, most of my time and effort was spent in counseling young adults who sought me out.  I really enjoyed doing this and realized early on that I was good at it, based upon feedback from those I was blessed to help.  As such, I reported this to our therapist, who began to encourage me to consider making this a career by going back to school and getting a Masters' Degree in Psychology.  I resisted her efforts for some months, gathering information and asking for advice but hesitant to make a decision.  At length, I ran out of reasons not to do it (one of her quotes is "Analysis can be Paralysis") and went to an interview at a school that I had decided upon to see if they would consider enrolling this 50-something into their school.  They did for some reason, and in September of 2007, I began my coursework at Philips Graduate Institute. 

Now to put into perspective what I was attempting to do, let me describe what a typical week was when I started coursework:

Sunday--Meetings and Counseling at church from 8am to 5 or 6pm
Monday--Work as a salesperson/manager in the recycling business from 8am to 4pm, eat dinner, then read texts or write papers from 6 to 9pm
Tuesday--Work as a saleperson in the same hours as Monday, eat dinner, then do interviews with Young Adults either at the church or in my home from 7 to 9:30 or 10:00pm
Wednesday--Ditto Monday and Tuesday during business hours, eat dinner, then read texts or write papers from 6 to 9pm.  The first two semesters I had a class at school in the evening.
Thursday--Ditto Wednesday
Friday--Work as a salesperson, then spend the evening with my wife who was also studying while I was studying during the week
Saturday--Attend school from 9am to 5pm.  I would usually veg out in the evening and/or prepare for Sunday meetings.  In other words, I was:

• Working full time
• Going to school full time
• Being a pastoral figure for a congregation of roughly 200 kids
• Being a father
• Being a husband

At this point, I have to give credit to my wife, Ann, for supporting me enthusiastically and not complaining about the time spent doing church work or homework.  More importantly, I give credit to God for blessing me to be able to keep up this incredibly busy schedule.  Actually, when I knew about the time constraints of my schooling, I approached my Heavenly Father in humble prayer and told Him what my schedule needed to be.  I told Him that I could only give Him my Sundays and Tuesday evenings and that I would dedicate myself to performing to the best of my ability in those times, but the He needed to help me to able to do what He seemingly had led me to do, both at church and at school.  I can humbly say that I lived up to my promise, and He came through for me.  

In March of 2009, as a sort of bendiction to my three year ministry with the Young Single Adults, I was released from that calling.  And in May of that year, I graduated with my Masters of Art in Psychology in Marriage and Family Therapy, with a 3.94 average, may I say!

So I am transitioning from being in the business world full time to the psychotherapy world full time.  For right now, I work in the recycling world part time (it pays well for the time spent) and do therapy part time.  It is a busy schedule, especially since I now also lead two Addiction Recovery Programs for the Church on two nights, and oversee 27 other Addiction Recovery Programs of the Church.  But I am slowly accumulating therapy hours on my way to accumlating 3000 hours needed to take tests to become a licensed therapist. 

And may I say that I have finally found contentment in my work life, and I give all of the praise, glory and honor to my God.  I feel His love all around me.  He is interested in my transitions because He and I are working together to help me be what He wants me to be.  It is all that I want...to be what He wants me to be.

Cruising For Awhile

CRUSING FOR AWHILE

So I am starting to write while on board a cruise ship with nothing but leisure time on my hands.  I had thought of returning to the real world and do some work left undone before we left, but I thought it worthwhile for me to write about my thoughts and feelings while they are still fresh. 



Ann & I about to board in Seattle



I had looked forward to having this experience for many years, considering myself deprived of it as I have considered myself deprived of many experiences in my life.  (I take responsibility for not having had more than I have).  I had been envious of Ann's two crusing experiences and I wanted to take advantage of this opportunity while my daughter was still employed by a cruise line.  So we ponied up the money and set sail for Alaska's Inland Passage.  Everything in my routine work day came to a screeching halt and I had to downshift to the leisure life.



Chocolate Eiffel Tower



It has been day after day of not having to anything except "what I want."  It has been what feels to be an hedonistic life of spending money and indulging.  It has been watching people around me who seem comfortable in this lifestyle (does that statement infer that I haven't been comfortable? Probably.) and who likely see the cruise as just another of the numerous self-indulgent things they do in life.  Perhaps for me, this crusing experience has more importantly been a "sensual" experience; that is, an experience of constant input to my senses.

 

Waiters from Indonesia



It has been a time to listen to a worldwide panoply of languages being spoken in the dining rooms, of seeing all different shades of skin and varying types and colors of clothing.  It has been a time to taste wonderful and delightful foods prepared to please both the palate and the eye.  It has been an opportunity to touch rocks, leaves, flowers, fish, and Ann's soft face.  It has been a time to smell the sea, the wonderful aromas of food I could eat whenever I wanted. 

 

Two lobster tails and steak...each!

 



Yes, it's a watermelon!

Focusing on the past few days both on and off the ship, they likewise are filled with memorable sensual experiences.  I remember the biting wind as I walked around the ship in the morning hours, observing the cold-looking mountains and nameless glaciers in the distance.

 

A nameless glacier.  Brrrrrrrrr...



 



Waterfall approaching Juneau



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I remember the deep verdant green of the mountains and the whiteness of the snow on them as we approached Juneau.












I think of the thrill of setting foot on soil that thousands of years ago had been covered by thousands of feet of ice (approximately 4000 feet we were told).  I remember in my mind's eye the white and blue of Mendenhall Glacier and the waterfall to its left.  I hear the loud voice of our tour guide as he led us on a hike through the lushly green forest near the Glacier, and the roar of the waterfall as we passed near its top.  The smell of the trees and bushes and soil was fresh and clean and potent.  I listened to water as it trickled in a small brook and listened to the rushing of the river that eventually poured over the waterfall.  It felt wonderful to feel my heart beating fast as I climbed and walked in this lush paradise.
  

Mendenhall Glacier from our hiking vantage point

 

Above the waterfall on the hike

 

Hiking in the beauty



It was breathtaking to get a top down perspective on the beautiful town of Juneau.  We rode the tram to a place on Mt. Roberts that rises 1800 feet right from the downtown.  For the expense, we were treated to fantastic views of the surrounding tree covered, green mountains covered with splotches of white snow. 



 

Breathtakingly majestic and beautiful



We could see the channel in which we had come in the ship and we could look in the other direction and see the sun's intermittent reflection on the water as it played hide and seek with the clouds.  I had thought we would experience a lot of rain, but this first day I was treated to plenty of sunshine and t-shirt weather.  I will fondly remember this visually stunning area, and Juneau will ever hold a special place for me.

Looking up the channel from our Mt. Roberts perch



Hiking on Mt. Roberts.  Stunning.



Looking down at the bits of ice "calved" off of the Hubbard Glacier in the icy, green-tinted water is a recollection of standing on the deck the following day.  The enormous, expanding Glacier looked cold and formidable (and white) in the distance as the shop very slowly pushed away the chunks of ice as we approached it.  The wind blew chilly but not oppressively and I felt grateful to be close to the warmth of the ship.  We listened a presentation of a couple of men from the village of Yukatat who had been ferried about the ship as they talked about their history and heritage and lives in this remote northern point of North America.



The Hubbard Glacier--the largest in the world...and bits of it



Kent, Kathie and Ann with the Hubbard Glacier behind

When the ship approached the town of Sitka, the sheer beauty of the town and its surroundings was incredible, highlighted by that some sun playing hide and seek with the clouds.  This little town nestled at the base of tree-covered mountains was stunning and even though the clouds finally won the day and rain began to fall, I felt comfortable and pleased.  I saw all kinds of totems in a park in the town.  I saw interesting leafy fauna at my feet all pointed one direction toward me as if to salute my presence in their world. 

Sitka Bay with our ship at anchor.  What a beautiful setting!

Beautiful, scenic, Russian-influenced Sitka--not a tourist town

All kinds of charming little islands greeted us as we approached Sitka



Totems show native heritage

















Lush, incredibly green foilage everywhere

I saw beautiful bald eagles both in the trees, and within touching distance at the Sitka Raptor Center.  And while there were a handful of tourist shops in the modest downtown, I did not feel overwhelmed by them.  I wondered whay my life and that of my family would have been had we accepted the invitation extended to us so long ago by a Sitkan to relocate to this far-flung, beautiful town and opened a music store, a town that still lacks a music store as it did 30 years ago!



I never tired of seeing these majestic and dignified bald eagles

Even though the time in Ketchikan was short, I enjoyed the adreneline of fishing and reeling in a nice-sized King Salmon that I had prepared and shipped home.  I felt cool rain on my face as I looked backward on the fishing boat, looking for movement of the fishing lines that indicated the presence of the migrating, large, majestic fish.  I was the first person to catch one!  The sky was overcast and the clouds hung low over the mountains that dropped precipitously into the water, but I very much enjoyed the experience and enjoyed looking around the touristy town.  I ended up buying funky black knitted shirt depicting the famous Northern Lights and which printing and illustrations change from white to show colors when exposed to UV rays.


Cloudy, rainy, touristy, salmon town of Ketchikan

What a thrill! What an adrenaline rush!

The skies cleared as we travelled southward toward Victoria, BC.  We arrived an hour or so later than we were supposed to and by the time we arrived at Bouchart Gardens by bus, the sun was very low in the summer sky.  Even so, the flowers, bushes and trees were visually stunning!  It was difficult for me to go for more than a minute or two without wanting to take another picture of the Edenic setting.  The Gardens are simply breathtaking and worth seeing once again (at least).  It was pleasing to watch Ann ride the Carousel, completely relaxed and enjoying this unecumbered brief time with no worries.




Bouchart Gardens--stunningly beautiful, even as the sun is low in the sky





It was difficult not taking pictures constantly



Rainbows of colors beautifully displayed



Carousel Ann


When we finally disembarked for good from the Westerdam, the skies were blue and Mt. Ranier loomed majestically in the distance, covered as it always is with brilliant while snow.  Ever since living in Tacoma for couple of months in the early 90s, I have always maintained that there are few cities more beautiful than Seatlle on a clear day. 




The beauty and majesty of Mt. Rainer

 After renting a car near the airport, we headed to Oak Harbon on Whidbey Island, northwest of Seattle, to visit Debbie Sue, Ann's childhood friend, and her husband John.  Their residence there looks out on a bay, with a small peninsula jutting into it and snow-covered San Juan and Cascade Mountains in the distance.  It was just beautiful, and because skies were clear and it was sunny and warm, it made it even more so.  The four of us were able to hike in a forested area near Anacortes, about a half-hour drive from their home.  There were treated to vistas of forested small islands and sunlight sparkling on the water. 



Looking from John and Debbie Sue's lovely home




The San Juan Mountains of Olympic Nat'l Park in the distance






















The last hours of our 48 hours there were spent leisurely walking along the rock-strewn beach almost in front of our guests' home looking for smooth rocks, shells, and driftwood--a completely relaxing end to a completely relaxing, sensual time in Alaska and Washington. 




A relaxing end to our magical vacation

 Thanks to Kent and Kathie Lee who were our travelling companions on the Cruise, to Debbie Sue and John, and to Rebecca for setting this up, alllowing us to crash at her place and show us Pike's Place and environs before taking us to the ship, and allowing us to use her car.  :)




All smiles on our cruise to Alaska and Victoria, B.C.!