One Family, One Heart

Introduction to the first layer of excavation… When I was a little girl, I had a dream. More than once. I would be standing in the yard of our tiny white bungalow looking up to see a huge bomb hanging over our house in mid-air. The bomb made me greatly afraid. Fleeting thoughts of the dream connected it to World War II, the Germans, the Nazis since The War was not forgotten, and the topic of an enemy was a familiar one. But this bomb was not about war or any external enemy. The dream symbolizes the emotional state of my family representing the sadness, the pain, the explosive words and actions, and the pervasive atmosphere of negativity, where real memories were buried beneath layers of imposed learning. Surfacing in my memory after several years of excavating the past through meditation, it represents a first step in remembering what my life was like as a child. The fear and hostility were deflected to those groups since it was much easier to look at obscure targets out there and blame them for the pain and sadness than to look within and accept responsibility for our actions and see what needed to be changed. My family was not obviously troubled or abusive. I believe most families do not look abusive until one has the opportunity to follow them home and live with them for six months and see the love that is present or the lack thereof. Mine was simply not a loving family. This is the story I never intended to write. It is a love story. It is about finding God. It has little to do with organized religion. My journey to love came through a personal searching. A searching within. My searching began with a desire to know how to love my children. I learned through the searching that I could find the truth. You mean, that is all it took? A tiny glimmer? Just a hint about wanting to love my children?