Tag Archives: childhood
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When sex and love are not one and the same

A heart-breaking work of staggering honesty: Sins of My Faith. In this Soul’s Code exclusive, a woman who lost her innocence to incest explains why she did not “out” her abuser

BY MARINA GIULLIANI: It’s commonly understood that incest refers to “sexual acts between close relatives”, but I know from first-hand experience that incest is a heinous act that no dictionary definition could possibly prepare you for.

Fondled by a respected member of our family, from the time I was much too young to know what havoc the guilt of sexual pleasure would bestow on my future, I lost my innocence to incest.

At one time I would have agreed with those who claim that rape is a far more serious abuse than touching. But now that I’ve put all the pieces together, it’s apparent that my subconscious made no such distinction.

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Why I became a foster parent

Why I became a foster parent

A gift I gave myself that keeps on giving: Opening our home and souls to our foster children

BY RICK LEED — Everyone understands the concept of ‘giving’ to a child in need by opening your home as a foster parent and potentially (though not necessarily) proceeding to adopt that child. The most common and simplest way to view this metamorphosis is that you are doing good by helping someone else — by sharing your safe, warm personal, family home with a child who might otherwise live in a ‘group home’ (the word that has replaced the word Dickens made famous, “orphanage”) .

It is true: you are doing good by helping another.  But the good you are doing is hardly one-sided.  There are many studies, much research, and a long social and spiritual history that shows that the biggest beneficiary is the giver of this gift.

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My divorce? A scary rebound relationship? Call them my “secret projects” for healing

CONFESSIONS: “When my little brother said I was like a T-shirt for women who shack up with abusers, I knew I had hit rock bottom”

ANONYMOUS — Sometimes I feel fondly — even grateful — for hitting what I consider rock bottom . . . so long as I never have to visit there again.

If there’s a contest between life’s ups and downs, ups are in. Some people pop pills to stay up.

Up is nothing to sneeze at, certainly, but I also believe that down is a place where you can do some foundation work for a personal renovation.

My downward journey started . . .

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A West Coast lawyer’s first-person account of race and reconciliation

A West Coast lawyer’s first-person account of race and reconciliation

Childhood friends, then ‘tribal’ enemies, come to terms with a history of violence

In 1960, a few months before a life lesson

BY DANIEL D. WOO — In 1960 when I was in 7th grade, a bunch of kids started the “Boo for Woo” club.  I was furious.

Our family moved to the United States in 1953 when I spoke only Mandarin Chinese and not a word of English.  The Geary Act extended the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act until 1943 when the laws were amended allowing up to 105 Chinese immigrants a year.

We came into the US as political refugees and became citizens in 1963 under a special bill passed in Congress. It wasn’t until The Immigration Act of 1965 that the immigration laws were reformed allowing Chinese and other Asians to come into the United States in large numbers.

Our family wound up in a neighborhood in San Jose where there were almost no other Asians, a small number of blacks, and a few Hispanics.  The majority were predominantly white Protestants, and at my school there were also Catholics and Jews.

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Peak experience: Why I look up to feel grounded

Peak experience: Why I look up to feel grounded

In the words of Nelly Furtado, I’m like a bird. It took an aboriginal healer to tell me why it’s perfectly okay to fly.

BY MICHELLE MORRA-CARLISLE – Being corralled like cattle in a crowded subway underground, I always wonder where everyone is going. And my own destination was a mystery to them, one gray slushy day, as I held onto a steel pole and got jostled about. What would they think if they saw what was in my purse – a small bundle of tobacco wrapped in red polka dotted cotton and tied with string?

That, amazingly, is the “fee” they charge at Dodem Kanonhsa, an Elders’ Cultural facility created by Indian and Northern Affairs Canada and the Native Canadian Centre of Toronto. It’s in a highrise office building, on a busy street with no trees in sight. To step out of an elevator, down a hall and into a peaceful “lodge” is surreal to say the least. I was sure I felt some kind of magic, even though I knew the magic was government funded.

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Guilt, shame and the whole chakra thing

Guilt, shame and the whole chakra thing

We all know guilt. And some of us understand first chakras. Both are about our primal sense of safety: acceptance

BY DAVID RICKEY — All of us have experienced guilt, and some of us are plagued with feelings of shame. These are very primitive emotions tied to tribal issues embedded in the first chakra.

The need to belong and be accepted by the tribe/family provides the fundamental sense of safety and well-being.

The threat of being abandoned by the tribe is experienced as the threat of death.

When we live at the level of the first chakra — in the ancient Eastern tradition, the chakra hierarchy assigns this energy to your genital awareness, and the hegemony of survival and material needs over your psyche.

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Making peace with childhood ghosts

Daniel realizes the far reaching effects a 49-year-old fight has had on many lives

BY DANIEL D. WOO, 2nd of two parts — I immediately found Chapter 18 and read it; here’s a paragraph:

“It is a summer evening, down in a green hollow, at the corner of a wall. I meet the butcher by appointment. I am attended by a select body of our boys; the butcher, by two other butchers, a young publican, and a sweep. The preliminaries are adjusted, and the butcher and myself stand face to face.

In a moment the butcher lights ten thousand candles out of my left eyebrow. In another moment, I don’t know where the wall is, or where I am, or where anybody is. I hardly know which is myself and which the butcher, we are always in such a tangle and tussle, knocking about upon the trodden grass.

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arison

Will Shari Arison be the first major self-help star of the new decade?

The self-improvement industry is dominated by a dozen multi-millionaire celebrities, and a big guru has not emerged since 2004. Shari Arison is already a billionaire in her own right, and may have the inner right-minded stuff to break out

The wealthiest woman in the Middle East, Shari Arison ranks 234 on Forbes magazine’s rich list and presides over an estimated $3-billion fortune and Israel’s largest bank.

An excerpt from her new book, BIRTH: When the Spiritual and the Material Come Together — For most of my life I have received messages—images and worded communications, sometimes even in an ancient language—that come to me from above. In the past, I used the help of channelers who interpreted the messages for me, but today I know how to receive those messages directly, without the need for interpretation, without the inevitable bias that takes place when information passes through someone else’s filters . . .

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parents

Killing me with kindness

How I learned to forgive my parents for their easy-going, Dr. Spock style of parenting — and grow up

GUEST COLUMN: ELLA GRANT — Okay, what’s the most unpleasant parent-related memory that you have from your childhood? And what would be the best? If the nastiest episode comes to mind quickly, and the best experience not so quickly — maybe like me — you need to open up a little box of forgiveness and see what comes out.

When I was a young child my parents were very good to me — no physical beatings, no harsh words.   But as I came to realize later, perhaps their fatal flaw was that they were too good. Child psychology tells me that I was raised in a permissive manner: loving and child-centered, but totally non-demanding.

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Living in fear: The day the music died

Living in fear: The day the music died

I wasn’t yet 10 years old and — in a flash — my childhood was over

BY SUEANN JACKSON-LAND — March 26, 1975 started out like any other day. It was a school day and I was in the 4th grade in Ms. Royer’s class. Ms. Royer looked like a great grandma. She was thin and gray, and secretly, I thought she was a professor instead of a 4th grade teacher.

The school bus pulled up to Oxford Drive and my neighbor Joel and I got off the bus. We were walking together, the same way we did every day. I stopped. Just stopped right in my tracks and I remember saying to Joel that something was wrong. I had a strange sensation like dizziness, but not dizziness; something else, instead. We continued up the road to my house and I unlocked the door and let myself inside.

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