Topic: Clarissa Pinkola Estes

[Nichi]

The Littlest Lazarus
 

How can you have died? No, no. 'Tooo young, tooo young,'
hoot the owls in the night pines...
How can you have died with your wings spread out
so beautifully...
two little silver-gray fans with vanes perfectly aligned,
literally zipped shut so as to make your feathers air-tight,
impervious to being split by wind...
All so you could fly. So you could sing. And fly.

Weren't you meant to remain airborne little dear one?
I can see you fledged from the two-hundred year old
cottonwood overhead, some branch way up high...
Did your species build the nest too far up?
Are there mean old birds who stalk
about the cottonwood castles like mad Medeas
bent on butchering/ murdering the children?
Are there wicked stepbrothers who try to make all death
look like an accident?

Or did you, like smallest Ikaros, just push your luck,
so excited to be alive, so eager to do what you saw
grown-ups do, you just rushed to the edge
before you were strong enough to sustain your weight,
and your tiny body of near mere feathers alone...
plunged ...
fell down down down instead
of pulling back on the little stick near your heart
til you hit the scoop of the updraught...
til you caught the wind-ladder upward
...later returning to the nest all cocky and proud.

Instead little dear thing, you lie here in the road,
like thin silverware tossed into a pile
yet the scrollwork, the filigree, the parabolas
of your bones, your meant-to-fly feathers
still somehow, so filled with life.

How can this be... Isn’t dead, dead?
Or is some huge soulfulness released in death,
that does good works in the corporeal world yet?

 

II

I bend, I take you little thing, lift your scrawny legs,
Put the palm of my hand behind your head.
I move you, to the grass, away from black tires,
just to a quiet soft place where belly up,
you can sprawl and smile
and see the stars...

I walk across the road to home,
gently brushing tiny bugs from my hands...
creatures who know to come dressed
in their little black mourning suits,
the infinitesimal pall-bearers who
take the dead down into humus at last.

Two snows, two springs from now,
some weed, wild vine, some accidental
tree, all not yet born now... will grow here.
Whatever falls into this earth
made fertile by your life dear one,
will live on as juniper, pine, catalpa,
chokecherry, sweet pea, nopalito...
and as the old people say,
will have a soul twice-born --
part wild green and growing--
and part essential small raptor
who was born with such courage for soaring.


Clarissa Pinkola Estes

[Nichi]

Dear Brave Souls: You know don't you, there is such a thing as what I'd call, "spiritual greed." It means dragging in more and more and more than you could ever digest, while the One wearing the crown of the flashing stars is sitting right across from you.

from La Mystica, Book of Prayer
Clarissa Pinkola Estes

[Ke-ke wan]

Dear Brave Souls: You know don't you, there is such a thing as what I'd call, "spiritual greed." It means dragging in more and more and more than you could ever digest, while the One wearing the crown of the flashing stars is sitting right across from you.

from La Mystica, Book of Prayer
Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Oooh! nice

[Nichi]

Dear Souls: To Those Who Like to Cut Down Living Trees:
tell them they are guardian trees. Yes, for my dual 40 foot high cottonwoods here, the cotton flies heavy here in spring. So? Human beings flood the earth with their pollutants of body and words of mouths daily and no one rushes with the axe or adze because they 'make messes.' ...Here, inevitably, crabby people talk of cutting our trees down also; I remind mercy on old people and trees alike. Same and same. Mercy on children and trees, related to one another psychically. Mercy on the beautiful and vulnerable, same and same from soul's sight. People tell me 'that tree is dangerous' but they never lived in a woods in their lives and dont know the life of trees. They tell me that tree is dead, but they dont know dead in draught is not dead at all; the rhizome is fully alive underground and when draught is over tree will come back. One man here just says, he just doesnt like this one tree. I listen: Tree says it doesnt like him much either...

but the oxygen and replenishment is for everyone, even crabby man. Trees often know more about mercy than others.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes,
Facebook

[Nichi]

"It is said that all that you are seeking is also seeking you, that if you lie still, sit still, it will find you. It has been waiting for you a long time. Once it is here don't move away. Rest. See what happens next."

Women Who Run With The Wolves
Clarissa Pinkola Estes

[Nichi]

BLESSINGS AT the ASYLUM

I

One of my patients manages to sneak to a phone.
He calls a late night radio talk show.
On air he says,
“I am God, and I would like to talk to America.”

The radio host, sly in Arbitron ratings, asks,
“Where you at, God?”
“Cheyenne.”
“What’re you doing in Cheyenne, God?”
“I am lost,” says the man.
The host crows, “Well folks, even God is lost tonight!”
Then “click”… he hangs up on God.

Next caller.

II

Later, on night shift, I see
the old man in his striped pajamas
sitting on his bed.
Only his night light is on.
He is so little, so thin,
he hardly dents the mattress.
Dejected, he tells me about calling
the radio show. He tells me God is lost.

“Well God, I whisper,
can you not see your heaven
out the window tonight?”

III

On his knees at the headboard,
his dear old naked feet crossed
under his poked-out rump,
he peers out into a darkness
half-lit by a crescent moon
the star of Venus close by.

“Come to think of it,” he says,
“Yes, yes! of course
I can see my heaven.”

“Well, God, as long as you can
see your heaven,
you cannot be lost, right?”

“My daughter,” he says fervently, grabbing
my hand and  holding it to
his tiny strong heart,
'from this day forward you shall
 be with me in my kingdom.”

“Thank you mi padrecito, little father,” I say.
“I am blessed,” and I mean it.

I help slip his legs under the blanket.
The long bones of his shins feel
like those of raptors, thin and hollow,
built for aerodynamics, all the better to fly.

IV

I tell the big-eyed interns on their first day:
Your work here will be hard, hard,
for all your big, big heart is to be aimed
at two very tiny apertures—
one which leads to a patient’s mind
where perhaps you can help…
but the other leads to the soul,
which can always hear and
understand your intentions.

You will find that when the minds here
have difficulty holding anything down,
their souls will gladly receive
any nourishment you can offer.
Never give up;
It is the soul that keeps beings alive.

If you heed this advice, along with the usual
DSM applications, contraindications, meds,
by the end of every shift, you will be
splattered with a few curses—
but these wash off with water—
there will be some spit-up —ditto—
various gifts of fingernail clippings,
hairpins, poems, drawings conceived
in nightmares, and dream talk executed
in twilight memory during daylight.

and… if you are lucky,
you will receive from various apparitions,
at least one nightly blessing each
from Mary Magdalene on 8,
one from each of the three Jesus’s on Floor 7,
one from Joe-God,
one from Henry-God,
one from Abe-God at the end of hall west,
some secret advice on love charms
from old Mrs. Cleopatra,
one juju miracle from the
Black Guadalupe in number 9.

And here, to guide you ever,
remember one last thing:
Were you to eliminate
the word “normal”
from all your musings here,
this alone will often lead
to far more understanding
about the vast nature of Nature
than you ever before
thought possible.

 
poem, "Blessings at The Asylum," ©1970, 2010, CP Estés, from La Pasionaria/ The Bright Angel manuscript: Collected Poetry of Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés, 1960-2010

advice to healers

CODA

This poem written during one of CPE's teaching internships on psych wards at Veteran’s Administration Hospital, a place that used to sometimes be called “Old Soldiers’ Home.”

[Nichi]

SANCTUARIO:
WHAT ONE IS FORCED TO...
WHAT CAN BE SAVED BACK
 

They told us
we had to go faster!
Faster!

Our women
had to solder faster,
meet the higher quotas.
Our needleworkers,
our galvanizers
had to rush-hurry
to turn out more
of the more.

Our housekeepers
of others' houses
had to clean what
others would not,
and faster, and then,
onto the next mire.

Our ironers,
our tailors,
our log makers,
our hatters,
our house framers,
our barrel banders,
our horse gentlers,
our weavers,
our old ways knowers,
were told they had
one hour
to do
ten hours work. 

And they did;
their broken bones,
torn hands
deafness, poisoned
skin and eyes,
and lungs, not
withstanding.

And yet, there was
a safe place
we all knew...
the last safe place
that was kept hidden
in the very last place
the great 'they'
would ever
think to look
in all their looting
and breaking in.

This last safe place
was hidden in our hearts,
a place
where there is
no time,
no time at all.
no faster
and no rush-hurry at all

other than rowing,
other than striking
the oars deep
into the water,
slow,
and steady,
and deep. 

And again.

Once again.

And again. 

slow

and steady

and deep.

 


The poem "SANCTUARIO: WHAT ONE IS FORCED TO... WHAT CAN BE SAVED BACK" from manuscript: La Pasionaria/ The Bright Angel, Collected Poetry of Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés, form 1960-2010. ©2010, Dr. CP Estés. All Rights Reserved.

[Nichi]

THE GREAT BROBINDISNAG AND THE CHILDREN WHO WOULD NOT SLEEP

by dr.cp estés

Once upon a time, a lonnnnnng time ago, there were little children who didnt want to go to sleep. 

Who could blame them, for life was exciting at night, all the pretty candlelight and all the stars in the sky and all the grown ups more relaxed from drinking the red colored water in the pretty blue tea cups.

No, the little children knew where the real excitement in life really lived. Awake.

Awake was very good. 

Sleep... not so much. Sleep was boring. 

The adults told the children and told them 'Bedtime now, come on, it's time to close your little eyes you sleepy head.'

Except the little children didnt want to close their eyes and the last thing in the world they felt was... sleepy.

So, one night, the adults, at the end of their wits with little children who just wanted to stay up and stay up all night, playing and singing and dancing and reading and making art and secretly going through the grown-ups' closets and trunks...

the adults sent out word to the villages all around, saying 'Whomsoever could sing the song that would put the children to sleep would be rewarded with gold.' 

Except all the surrounding villages sent back word, 'Are you crazy? We cannot get our own children to go to sleep, let alone your children! If you find the magical solution to all this staying up and staying up, please do let us know...

'for we are all losing sleep and the violinist is trying to play the saw, and the blacksmith is trying to use the voilin as his bellows, and the old women are painting folk motifs on the cows hoofs and filing down the bedposts, and the old men are chasing the sheep with brooms and using their big white wool szurs (curly sheepskin capes) to clean the chimneys. As you know, the lack of sleep for us, while the children are wide awake, is causing us all nearly terminal confusion!'

And so the people of the first village thought and thought, 'What ever shall we do about our children who will not sleep?' And they finally decided to do the most treacherous, most difficult, most daunting thing to do that everyone loathed the very idea of...

Oh my, Oh my!

They decided to call down the Great Brobindisnag.

Ooooooooooo.

---------------
But first they got into a terrible argument about it all... one pulling the other by the sleeve saying, 'Look there has to be some other solution! Giving the children to the Great Brobindisnag can never be the right solution! Good God, men and women! Think of what you're saying!'

'No, no' cried others, these children who will not sleep are driving us all to distraction. The Great Brobindisnag is the only solution!'

And so they tugged and tumbled and barked and bit at each other until hardly anyone could think of one more thing to say that hadnt already been said ten times...

and at long last, out of fatigue more than reason, they finally all agreed that the bravest amongst them would march to the end of the road, climb the hill above the tiny church, walk beyond the graveyard into the forest and call down the Great Brobindisnag.

And thus, again, all villagers fell into an argument about who was indeed the bravest one in the village, the one who would undertake this task.

On most days, most of the men and women would have vied for who was the strongest, most built like a bull, most able like a fine mare, the bravest of all.

But now, no. They all pointed at others, not themselves, saying 'He is braver than I.' 'No no, she is the bravest one.' And no one could agree, so in the end, all the grownups went...

bent and hobbling and staggering from lack of sleep... the grownups stumbled down the road and up the hill and past the graveyard and.... all the while saying what the Brobindisnag looked like, how hideous, how horrendous, that maybe no one would survive the Brobindisnag, and therefore the children would just remain awake for ninety more years...

and grow up to be like rabbits and raccoons and deer ...for they would all have only the animals of the forest to raise them and teach them. 

'Oh woe is us,'the grown-ups cried, 'our poor children will be raised by animals... even by ... wolves!! Oh the pity of it all!!'

But now deep in the dark forest with only the yellow moon showing through the black fingers of the trees, the villagers suddenly felt a terrible tremble in the ground beneath their feet. 

'Oh no! What is that!' Their eyes were as big as planets and their mouths fell open in long ovals. They clutched at each other until they looked like one very fat raggedy person with dozens of legs. 

The thuds came louder and louder until standing in all  glory in the midst of the forest was...... it was her... SHE, the Great Brobindisnag! Her long freshly combed hair fallen all around her down to her feet and woven together at the bottom in a fancy fringe as though on a shawl... this coming from swaying side to side as she walked...

Her large nose was set a bit to the side where it had migrated from eons of sniffing and smelling out the truth of things. Her large hands hung below her knees, from bending to help animals struggling in labor to help them deliver safely. Her feet were enormous from walking over boulders and through tanglewoods... and everything about her smelled of fresh water.

Ay yi yi yi yi!! the villagers screamed and ran as though one person through the woods, back through the graveyard, back down the hill, back past the tiny church, back down the road...

but, to their horrification, the Great Brobindisnag had taken only one step out of the forest and beat them all the way home!

And there in the tiny village, bending down at the windows of the cottages, the giantess, the Great Brobindisnag had drawn each child out of their houses and the children were now swinging in the vines of the Great Brobindisnag's hair, hanging from her thick old fingers, and laughing and dancing on her shoe tops... all as wide, as wide awake as usual!

Before the villagers could rush the huge old woman and try to overcome her by physical force alone-- for they so did love their children, even though they would never sleep-- old Brobindisnag began to sing... a song that was so beautiful, and so pure, and so sweet like little tinkling silver bells, like a sweet cool breeze on a hot night, like water poured drop by drop into a thirsty mouth...

Thus did Brobindisnag sing on, and as as she did, the grownups themselves began to be overwhelmed with sleep, they simply could not keep their eyes open.

And as Brobindisnag's beautiful singing continued, her sweet breath felt warm like the fire at night that bids the entire body to relax and rest, to sag so sweetly and at last to sleep.

And thus as Brobindisnag sang on and on to the children telling about the beauty of dreams, and all the wondrous creatures that could be found in dreams, and all the stories just waiting for the children there, the children did something they had never done before when they were so determined to stay awake forever...

they listened.

They listened and leaned against Brobindisnag's body,
and let the music of her song stroke their eyelids and their cheeks softly so softly...

and let her promise of dreams and of stories and adventures stroke down their spines gently

and their dear little eyes sank to half mast,

and their sweet little bodies relaxed

and they felt the promise of rest,

of peace,
of dreams
and stories,

and soon the little children, twined in the softest most fragrant blankets of the Brobindisnag's hair,

and held in the palms of her hands,

and laying with their backs supported by her big feet... all the children fell asleep

so asleep,
so so sweetly
asleep.

------------

And thus it was, that all the grownups and all the children slept through the night, dreaming and sailing on the seas of stories...

and in the morning, all awakened and rubbed their eyes looking at one another so darling-- for they all were rested at last--

and they asked each other what had really happened the night before. And one said this. And another said that. And others said other things...

and because they were the same villagers as before, even though they'd had a remarkable experience, they could not agree on anything past the idea that they'd decided to call on the great force of Nature, the Great Brobindisnag.

But no one remembered the argument about who was bravest. No one remembered setting out on the road, past the tiny church, climbing the hill, passing through the graveyard, shakily walking into the woods...

all they remembered was that they and their children had never had such a good sleep... and that every night afterward the children went to sleep right away as soon as they were told it was time...

deep restful beautiful sleep,

and sometimes, most puzzling of all, after nightfall the children would often come to kiss their kin goodnight, and without even being told, the children would have readied for sleep and now smelled of clear water and fresh combed hair, and off they would sway to sleep, weaving up and down and in and out on the sea of stories, seeking out truths and meeting great challenges

for overall, they had been sung into knowing that nightime... can often be as exciting as day.

and with love,

nite nite now,

The Great Brobindisnag, I mean, Dr. E.

 cackle cackele

-------------------
From "The Great Brobindisnag, A Make-Story," in The Dangerous Old Woman: Myths and Stories of the Wise Woman Archetype ©1993, 2010 by Dr. CP. Estés. All Rights, including derivative rights, Reserved. There is  more text before the story and more text after the story... but as you know... now is the time for bed... and we have to save some story for another time. Nite Nite. Tuck Tuck. And Love.

[Ke-ke wan]

Love it! 

[Nichi]

Dear Brave Souls: There's a difference between running away and letting go. And remember, you can weep and still be fierce. You can be feeling like warmed over porridge and still hold your ground. You can see if it is true that understanding and sharpened insight are the opposite of fear.
and with love,
dr.e

[Nichi]

Who ever would have thought the opposite of perfectionism is not sloppiness at all... but letting go... and going onward.
~Clarissa Pinkola Estes

[Nichi]

Dear Brave Souls: I know you know this in that small room lit by the eternal flame far back in the psyche: fairytales are not about the prince rescuing the princess. They are the heroic spirit that so easily can, through abuse and neglect, be separated from the innocent, hardworking, childlike spirit.

The 'prince' is not coming. The 'princess' to be is not waiting for the 'prince'. What is occurring is this: The innocent spirit is seeking the heroic spirit/ protector that has been lost. The heroic spirit is seeking the innocent love of life... that has been lost. They are meant to be together. Fairytales tell us how they became separated, the many ways in which they can be united again, fitting together like the shards of a shattered jewel... that will now show its seams and scars, but will also in new ways, be whole again.

Stated another way: Fairytales are not about princes and princesses: they are about the best parts of human nature, aspects elemental that have become separated from one another, that sorrow for and long for one another... the heroic and the innocent. The tales tell us ways to move to help the sweet innocent self and the stalwart guardian nature to hold one another in embrace and in respect once again.

Stated yet one more way, fairytales moisten the opaque veil between worlds so it becomes transparent, and so we can then see what the aqua vitae has been sheltering, what has been kept alive behind the veil, despite all travail, besides all else to the contrary.

Generally, we are on the quest to find one or the other, most often the missing guardian or the missing sweet self... and rarely... both.

and with love,
dr.e

from La Pasionaria, The Bright Angel, Collected Poetry of CP Estés, ©1989, 2012, all rights reserved.

[Nichi]

Estes is a Jungian, a therapist, a collector of mythology, a beautiful writer, and a healer. She also has Catholic roots, strongly connected to the "Madonna", so I have been happily surprised watching her lead prayer efforts per the Colorado fires. Clearly she understands magic and shamanism, and is a shaman herself.

[Nichi]

I know the following is long, and most won't be able to get through it, but there's a lot of good stuff in it, so I repost it. Estes is a psychoanalyst and clinician, and her specialty is post-traumatic stress recovery. She has written this protocol for it, with a personal edge, as is her style.

(next)

[Nichi]

RECOVERY AND NORMAL REACTIONS TO SUDDEN SHOCK, EMERGENCY, LOSS, INJURY, AND CATASTROPHE
by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés

Each person, depending on their innate physical and emotional constitution, their time of life, the day to day challenges of life, is affected differently by sudden shocks and catastrophic events. Symptoms that rise from shock may differ from person to person also.

Thus, over a period of time, if you of ‘the inner circle,’ that is, if you are an eye-witness, a helper, a first responder, a victim, a survivor, a person who lost a loved one, or had a loved one in the path of danger, or seriously injured… if you have been suddenly hit hard by tragedy… if you are military, fire fighter, worker, helping-professional, law enforcement, rescue worker, citizen rescuer, news gatherer, photographer, or connect to the tragedy in other close-in relationships, you may find yourself having one or more of the following reactions.

The following are normal reactions to sudden shock relating to life and death events, to sudden twists of fate. When one has been involved in a critical incident, the body, mind and heart, and some believe too, that the spirit and soul, are shocked as well.

This is because it is shocking to see in full consciousness, in a split second, how close death suddenly came into our world, how fast, and often at first, how quietly... This witness is arresting to any human being with a heart and soul.

The most time-tested remedies I know from my forty-one years of clinical work in post-trauma recovery are outlined right after this list of common and normal reactions:

Physical Reactions:--
o Sleep disturbances including inability to sleep
o Lethargy, such as sleeping too much
o Exhaustion, fatigue
o Changes in appetite, digestive disturbances
o Feeling numb
o Crying, sometimes without necessarily knowing why
o Desire to comfort and be comforted physically
o Nightmares, night terrors
o Loss of memory
o Trembling, inner or outer
o Nausea
o Heart arrhythmia
o Pain in heart, not an organic disorder, but caused by sorrow
o Aching bones, not an organic disorder but rather,
caused by sorrow
o Headache, pre-migraine symptoms; migraine

Behavioral Reactions:--
o Hyperactivity
o Poor concentration
o Refusing to talk
o Wanting to go away, or hide
o Talking ‘out of one’s mind’
o Startle reactions while awake or asleep
o Isolating, wanting to be alone.
o Wanting to just sit, or just stare
o Trying to help in any way one can, to the point of exhaustion;
o Not wanting to leave the scene
o Hyper-vigilance, watching, listening, being unable to
be at rest

Psychological Reactions:--
o Loss of sense of time
o Feeling distraught and helpless
o Feeling that things are not real, as though in a dream
o Inability to recall sequences or retrace all of one's steps
o Feeling the future has been lost forever
o Desire to comfort and be comforted psychologically
o Feeling one should not cry
o Wanting to scream, or screaming-weeping
o Inability to attach importance to anything but this event
o Flashbacks
o Nightmares
o Intrusive thoughts that cause anxiety
o Over-reactions to mild to moderate irritations
o Recurrent dreams
o Horrified Anger
o Broken Heart
o Insecurity about the future
o Feelings of fear
o Feelings of guilt
o Feeling one cannot stop crying
o Unusual reserve, acting as though nothing much
really occurred
o Blaming others, individuals, groups: there may be
passionate outbursts
o Marked frustration with how long everything takes
o Marked frustration with rescue workers, the
bureaucracy, anyone who tries to help
o Marked frustration with any who break promises to
help, or who are perceived to not be telling all the
truth, or who are perceived to be withholding critical
information, or giving misinformation not telling all
they know, or who are giving out platitudes or being
condescending
o Ongoing violent fantasies
o Rolling episodes of anxiety
o Mild to profound depression
o Amnesia
o Thinking no one can ever understand, no one can ever
help.
o Keeping secrets about what one might have known
beforehand
o Blaming oneself.
o Deep dread about hearing any more terrible news.
o Aversion to films, movies, radio, television, anything
that depicts catastrophe.

Spiritual reactions
o Desire to comfort and be comforted spiritually
o Questioning God, being angry with God
o Not wanting to hear any spiritual counsel
o Wanting very much to hear spiritual counsel
o Feeling God has abandoned everyone
o Feeling God is ever near
o Praying non-stop, for self, for others, for everyone

These are normal reactions, and they can be painful. Thankfully, no one has all of them, and some, such as more prayer than usual can be helpful to many. Going through these shock symptoms, trying to pinpoint each or some, and finding one’s own ways of easing these, putting first things first… this is all part of the direct healing process.

No one can instantly cleanse these thoughts and feelings away, though I wish we could, for I know they can tear at heart, mind, soul and spirit and make people feel half-dead or in continual dread.

But as time passes, many of these will pass too. The most important is to know what to do for oneself to help the natural process of mending up after twists of fate that affect us so deeply. Some years ago we lost our first born grandson and made the slow painful walk back from the land of the dead, one of the most succinct truths about coming back after such trauma, came from my dear daughter who said it so well: We never overcome profound loss: We learn to live with it.

And this will assuredly be so for you also. You will find your way to live fully again with this time in background, not foreground. And you will see, month by month, this will occur. For some persons, after tragedy, they know immediately what they think and feel. For others who are numbed, they may not know where and how they stand with the events and with themselves for a time afterward.

That’s alright. It will come. Being thoughtful and watchful of one's own processes is a good endeavor. If you can’t quite decide, ask trusted others to help you take steps to help yourself as, and if, needed.

For those close in to the disaster, the tragedy, the numbness you feel is your psyche protecting you, softening for a time, the profound overwhelm of all that has occurred, allowing you to at least go through many of the mundane motions of the day to day.

For the first days after such enormous shocks, it may almost feel as though time has stopped. That all is surreal. You may feel as though you are no longer here. As though maybe you are dead or deadened. This is because abject fear, horror, and/or tragedy throw us into a process and locks us in for a time.

For most who have been suddenly beset by deep fear, and/ or suddenly lost a beloved person, or a furry relative, or a homeplace… ‘descent' is not too strong a word for the process after. To many, it feels like a big iron gate has closed behind them and that life will never be the same again.

And yet, also be assured that there is an indirect healing process that is taking place underground at the same time... time passing is one indirect healing partner. As time goes on, there is also blessing news... and that is, that fear and horror and grief are processes that have a beginning, a middle and not exactly an end, but a release from that trapped place where you may have felt burdened back and forth, relentlessly.

Eventually the sense of helplessness, fatigue, guardedness, hyper vigilance, sorrow, and ‘not knowing,’ dwindles and eases. You will daily live and laugh and love life again, more and more … it will happen. Not right this moment. But it will come.

As time goes on, less and less will you be dragged backward in time to very briefly, but deeply, feel fearful or grieve anew. Those times will occur with longer and longer spans of time in between. Each episode of ‘sudden remembering’ will be intense, but last for shorter and shorter periods of time. Again, for most of us, we do not 'get over' life and death heart-wrenching events. We learn to live with them.

We learn to live with the aftermath of memories of bad shocks and irretrievable losses. We learn to live with changes and losses that feel they took meaning of our lives away from us for a time, or that took our souls from us and our desire to live life as well.

But the innate Life Force is ever sending out strong impulses for us to live again... and well. The Life Force is muscular, no matter how weak we feel in the moment. It will help us see meaning, and new calling in life sometimes too, as we gradually climb back up to our own vital and vibrant lives in every way. It will come.

Please take up all, or any of the following ways to help yourself and know too, that many many strangers, as well as those close to you, are focusing in this very moment on supporting you over the miles, saying strong and ongoing fresh prayers for your hearts and souls to find their ways and to be made whole again.

ACTIONS TO TAKE FOR RECOVERY--
-- Within the first days or as soon as one can, do strenuous exercise alternating with relaxation. Continue to move daily thereafter. This will alleviate some of the physical reactions, and give your body a way to discharge additional physical and emotional reactions as they accumulate in the coming days.

-- Keep busy, do not sit and do nothing. Feeling displaced, angry, sad, orphaned, and bewildered are normal reactions. Do not tell yourself that you have lost your mind. You haven't. But it is as though a huge wind has blown through upsetting all previous order. Order will return. A new order. An order for your life that you decide as you decide it, in your own best interests.

-- Talk to people -- talk is one of the most healing things you can do. Tell your story as you see it. Although some have learned to keep their most precious thoughts and feelings to themselves, they may not realize that by talking some, or a good deal now, they also give others permission to talk out their thoughts and feelings too... and thus to go that much farther in healing. To talk, encourages others to talk. Though each has their own ways of dealing with trauma, and no one ought be forced to speak until or unless they wish to, we find that expression of one’s thoughts and feelings about trauma often go farther to release its after-effects, than trying to tough it out.

-- This may be the first time some persons will receive encouragement to speak. Some will be brief, that’s alright. It doesn't matter whether one's talk is broken or cohesive... telling one's own story insofar as one wishes, is what matters. People who have been deeply hurt, may tell their stories over and over again, many times before they lose their massive charge of pain. They may tell it in voice, or in drawing, painting, journaling, and other expressive means and then share this with trusted others.

-- Don’t push yourself, but if you can, listen to others' stories; if you can, reach out for those who are poor in resource, poor in spirit, poor in security, for sometimes giving comfort, words of encouragement, is a way to help healing of both teller and listener as well. There are many ways to listen, including being silent together, including a hand on an arm, an arm around a shoulder, an embrace while the other person just leans in quietly, or weeps.

-- There are too, those inimitable words that the soul understands perfectly, which are not said with voice, but with nods of the head and with the eyes; gentle understanding eyes.

-- Don't allow anyone to push you or others by insisting, “It's over now, we have to move on.” In grief and great change, the psyche has entered a sacred place, one of deep learning and transformative process. The news media cycle is not your healing cycle. In fact, protect yourself in the early days from any media who may accidentally overwhelm your spiritual needs for privacy in groups and as individuals, with media’s need to ‘feed the maw of the news cycle.’

--Neither is your drummer anyone who is not very well developed psychologically or spiritually themselves, nor those who become understandably fatigued with the, for now, ongoing cycle of anxiety and/or grief. Rely instead on compassionate and patient counsel.

-- Also, listen to yourself and to wise others who have come through ‘a great something’ themselves, and mostly recovered. It is a paradox and an issue of compassion for self and others: To tend to what is wounded til healed ‘well-enough’, while going on with new life as well. Yes, 'life goes on,' as some will say, but the emphasis should be on Life! not on hurrying. A wound to the spirit and psyche is like a wound to the body. It takes time to heal from the bottom layers upward.

-- Feelings of loneliness and deep feelings of worry, or longing toward loved ones injured, or now gone, can be partially mediated by being with those who understand from the ground up, that is, other people who have walked the path similar to the one you are walking now. Though it can seem like this never happened to anyone else and you are alone, there are others in the world, on the internet, at certain groups who know exactly what you are experiencing, and they can be of great comfort. Seek them and take what they offer in all goodness. It is there for you.

-- Each time you tell your story partly, or fully, each time you create a symbolic act, a ritual, each of the best of what once was, memorialized now, each thoughtful new barrier set to help prevent ever again what twist of fate or tragedy occurred in your world insofar as you can, each time you think back to the disaster in order to analyze and learn something valuable, each time you receive someone's caring, each time you reach to comfort others, to bless and be blessed by others, you will be healing yourself. And others.

-- Try not to cover up your feelings by withdrawing or by using alcohol or drugs. Talk your feelings out. As many times as you need to. There is no shame or selfishness in this. You have been through alot. Sometimes after a sudden shock or tragedy, some are inclined to try to self-medicate with whatever is close at hand. But this is not a time of negating. The psyche is stronger than most realize. This time, despite the horror that began it, will be a time that will bring much to you, much that will be useful for the rest of your life. For many, it will be a time of complete maturing in unforeseen and good ways. We cannot make tragic or profane events go away, but we can make our actions regarding them, holy.

-- Reach out to others for help. They really do care. Be good to yourself and let others be good to you too. Often, the most healing comes from just allowing others to bless your life anew, and you theirs. I tell the people I meet with who have suffered great tragedies, but who often ask what they can do to help others. I tell them, ‘be kind.’ People who suffer greatly will most often forget all the words that anyone ever said during these first days, but what will remain forever engraved in memory, are the kindnesses others offered during those first few days and weeks. Kindness somehow seems recorded by the body, by the mind, the heart, the soul and the spirit. Sense memory; every part of the person registers kindness.

-- Spend time with others. There may be times of reflection and solitude. But, do not isolate yourself. You may also find yourself laughing sometimes, even as you grieve. That is not blasphemy: it is the Life Force trying to surface again. It is alright.

-- Ask other people how they are doing. Remember they may be shy to tell a stranger, or even a friend or relative, of their burden unless they are asked, and often, they may need to be asked more than once in order to gain more of an answer from them than just 'Fine,’ when in fact, they are somewhat-- to a lot-- less than fine.

-- People can become fatigued from this business of remembering and grieving. Grieving is hard work and as numbness wears off and the psyche delivers back images and impressions of the original traumatic event, it can burn up much energy. Rest, take good care of your body. Feed it decent food. Soothe and energize your body.

-- It's alright to take time out. It is not negligent to not want to listen anymore. It is alright not to read newspapers or watch the news. It’s alright to never again go to a film that is about shock or loss, in order not to stir up what is now healing or healed. It is fine to protect the wound, even when ‘well enough’ healed, for now, for a while, and forever. Everyone reaches capacity in the grieving process, in recovering from great shocks. Pay attention to what your body and mind, heart and soul need, and secure it for them.

-- Healing from shock is not a straight line, it is a zig-zag line, sometimes two steps back and three steps forward. Stay with it. There is no one right way or perfect way. There is your way. Trust it. Others may offer ideas too. Consider them, take what you need and leave the rest.

-- Take time to think things through carefully if you are approached by persons offering legal help. For persons who are badly injured or for survivors of a family member who died, or those who have lost much, legal support may be considered. But, also be aware that in some instances, involvement in years' long legal pursuits can thieve freedom to live life again as you please, and instead have one's highs and lows dictated by how the legal case is progressing each day. Consider carefully. If you need a lawyer, it is likely best to seek your own referrals from trusted friends rather than respond to lawyers who contact you.

-- It is true that some of your friends and relatives may never understand what you, the on-scene person, experienced unless they were there too. Sometimes the ones we turn to for support, just can't give us enough. That’s alright. That’s why there are often survivor groups formed. The people in ‘the inner circle’ understand one another innately.

-- If you find at any time that you feel stuck in endless anger, or want to isolate yourself without cease, or have unabated high anxiety, or continue to be hyper-vigilant, have intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, thoughts of hurting yourself or others, nightmares or other sleep distresses, over-reactions to run of the mill events, begin to destroy your most cherished relationships... don’t put it off ... seek professional help. It is often only one tiny thing that needs to be tightened or loosened in mind or heart; not a total tear-down and rebuild of the entire psyche.

-- It is not a character flaw nor a failure of selfhood to seek psychological, physical or spiritual assistance. Please understand that severe, sudden shocks to the body and mind can throw off chemicological balances in the body. Sometimes the body needs medicine to help to recover the chemical equilibrium that influences sense of self, even mood, and sense of ease with the world. Talk therapy with a therapist trained in post-trauma recovery is useful to untangle thought processes that often become jammed by prior pressure to respond to too many sudden and strong stimuli all at once.

-- Therapy is also a place to speak the thoughts you would prefer not to speak more publicly or to friends or family. It also is a place of learning to create new life as you now wish it to be, with insight and vision. Some choose EMDR, a eye-movement therapy that reduces the anxiety of trauma for many; some choose talk; some analyze dreams, looking for symbols which free them when understood, some also take medication, as well as practice meditation, sit satsung, keep journals, do yoga, go fishing more often, take up new skills that relax them or go back to those that once did… and many use expressive arts to come to terms. Use any and all, as you see fit.

-- If you are a parent, help your children by listening, listening. Just because your young children, or your young adult children are silent, or just because they laugh or go out with friends or say everything is fine, does not mean they are without need of your special regard. The psyche often splits in two during eye-witness and/or sudden trauma. This is a healthy and temporary adaptation. One side goes on functionally, while the other side maybe, for a time, drowning in bewilderment, helplessness, a sense of the surreal, and sorrow. The two ways of seeing and thinking will come back together again more and more, and with a united vision eventually. Don’t be afraid to talk to your children adult to adult. Do not hesitate to gain psychological advice and therapy, both for yourself and your child if you think that is useful and/ or needed.

-- Therapy at its best is educative, teaches about how the mind and behavior and spirit actually work together, or don't, but can... with a few adjustments and conscious good will. Children look to and often follow the tone their parents take about such matters. If you made an error of under or over reacting, just back up, say so to your child, say you know how to do it better now. The children learn so quickly, they will most often back up and follow your new and better lead. Perfection in grieving and coming back to life is not the point. What counts the most is that you just do your loving best.

-- In the ensuing days, find things to do that feel rewarding, meaningful or refreshing. These need not be big things, but events or endeavors to offer some small balances to the tragedy and overwhelm you have been through. It is alright to live fully, even though precious others have been suddenly injured, harmed, or died. In fact, it is exactly right to decide to live fully in honor of those who currently cannot or could not. There is to be no guilt for moments of happiness or celebrations. Moments of happiness are, again, the Life Force erupting in your service. And this is just right.

-- When you feel bad, find a person to talk to, and to cry with, to tell of your anger and other helpless feelings. Don't keep it inside. If you think you’re ‘bothering people,’ remember people who love you will wind up spending much energy being even more worried about you if you go mute. It’s alright to talk, even if it’s not
‘your thing.” There are times of life that have great consequence that are worthy of speaking about. This is one of those times. For your sake. For the sake of others.

-- You are vulnerable in some new ways when you’re recovering from shock; take care to not over-indulge or self-medicate with substances, or other mind-numbing addictions, or trying to lose oneself in unprotected sex.

-- If you have spiritual practices, your spiritual beliefs will definitely help you through. Cleave to them in full. For those who have been dispirited by some inhumane religious person long ago, do not hold yourself away from this kind of healing for your spirit now. Instead, consider seeking people of spirit who love the soul; there are many of them in the world, some in organized religions and some who wander freelance in this wide world. Ally with them. They will have special balm for you.

-- I would just mention this last, also, a personal philosophy.... for some it is good to develop a category in one's mind called something like “God's business," for some things will never make sense, for things one cannot control or ever understand. Accidents are incomprehensible. Twists of fate often have little 'rational fact' to them. Evil things are by definition insensible. And some things, some events, some outcomes, will forever only be “God's business…" understood and sealed in mercy by a Mind Greater. One that has mercy and love not only on those lost, but also on us.

-- We all wish to be brave and strong in the face of sudden upheaval and disaster. We all wish to be looked up to for our endurance and our efforts to help others. If you truly care for humanity, then too, be sure to include yourself in their numbers, by giving your own inner feelings and thoughts the voice and the dignity they and you so deeply deserve.

And one last, last thing: worldwide there are strangers who are industrial strength praying men and women. We’ve got you on our radar and have already sent in the linebacker angels to watch over and guide you. We’re asking that you and all your loved ones be kept safe, that you see miracles during this time, and that you be made as whole as possible. We’ll keep the vigil candles lit. That’s our idea of fighting fire with fire.

In the meantime, please lean on our prayers.

Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés

This protocol letter for victims, survivors, helpers, family members, neighbors, law enforcement, fire-rescue, divers, workers and witnesses to massacre and disaster, "Recovery and Normal Reactions To Sudden Loss, Injury, and Catastrophe"; Copyright ©1970, 1999, 2001, 2006, updated 2007, 2009, Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved, is printed here under Creative Commons License: author grants permission for free distribution under conditions that use be non-commercial, text be used in its entirety, and attributed with author's full name and copyright.