Is it Vestibular, PTSD, HSP, or Empathy?

September 18, 2024 / Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

Yesterday, I had to leave work early. I had to leave out of a combination of stimuli that triggered – perhaps all – of the conditions I have: chronic vestibular neuritis, PTSD, HSP (highly sensitive person), along with my ability to feel the energy and emotions of others (empathy) so much so that it overwhelms my nervous system. The result was a combination of overwhelm, PTSD symptoms (inability to concentrate, focus, etc), anxiety, and a blaring migraine with a bit of dizziness. While any one of these conditions could have caused the symptoms I experienced, upon reflection, it was a combination of stimuli and conditions that created the perfect storm, making it near impossible for me to continue working while the stimuli not only continued, but increased. Thankfully, I have an understanding employer who is fully aware of my sensitivities and the deficits that sometimes accompany this combination of sensitivities. My work is also flexible, some can be done from home, and my responsibilities for that day were relatively minimal. My employer gave me a supportive smile when I told her I was going home, as she was aware of the challenges I was facing that night.

Not every employer would be so understanding or supportive.

I know I am one of the lucky ones. In America, 2% of the population are considered empaths, 6% will have PTSD at some point in their lives, 15-20% are diagnosed as HSP, and over 35% of adults over the age of forty suffer from vestibular disorders. I suspect these figures are understated! My point is that a whole lot of people suffer from one or several of the conditions with which I sometimes struggle, and very few employers are understanding of or willing to make accommodations for said-conditions. With none of these conditions does one appear “sick.” For most of these conditions the symptoms are difficult, if not impossible, to describe, causing many, including medical professionals, to believe the issues might be “in your head.”

Literally, vestibular disorders are in our heads! For myself, I have chronic inflammation of the vestibular nerve which makes me sensitive to movement, sound, smells, lights, barometric pressure – and so much more. When I’m “triggered,” the results vary. Sometimes I just feel icky. Other times I’m bowled over by vertigo. Sometimes the vertigo isn’t full-on spinning, just a feeling of disorientation or unease. I sometimes get aura migraines, and other times full-body migraines where I can do nothing but lay on the couch with lights off and a blanket over my head. I NEVER know when the symptoms might arise but there are certain things that are consistent including driving (especially at freeway speeds), snow and rain, windshield wiper movement, low barometric pressure, and red wine. Ironically, red wine is also one of the remedies I have found for when I have a full-on migraine. Weird.

PTSD is even more subtle for me and thankfully with medication I haven’t had a panic attack in several years. I continue, however, to find myself sensitive to crowds, loud noises, a multitude of stimuli, and certain situations and/or conversations. One thing I’ve come to notice, which I don’t remember having before the experiences that brought about the PTSD – I now have some sort of auditory processing disorder – which could also be related to the vestibular issues. The disorder goes like this: if I’m in a crowd of people and someone, or multiple someones are talking to me, I literally can’t hear them. All I hear is “wha wha wha wha.” As one friend described it – “Charlie Brown’s teacher.” I can hear the sounds, but I cannot make out the words. For years I thought I was hard of hearing. My hearing tests all prove to be in the range of normal, and yet, these symptoms persist. As an office manager, this condition makes my job difficult and overwhelming at times, and I have to repeatedly ask people to repeat themselves while explaining about the processing disorder.

As it relates to HSP and being an Empath, (insert shoulder shrug emoji). If you are either of these, you get it. If not, there’s likely no way to explain it. The best way to describe both of these is that I feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel everyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyything. Your emotions. Sometimes your thoughts. Pending earthquakes, hurricane, or other global phenomenon. I sometimes know when something bad is about to occur. I can read your energy. I feeeeeeeeeel if you are a good or bad human being. I can tell by your body language if you’ve been abused. Sometimes I see it. It’s bad enough when it’s only one person I’m feeling, or one global phenomenon…….but if it’s a room of people or the whole planet is losing its shit, it becomes overwhelming which makes it difficult to stay fully present, to think clearly, and to remain focused. On some days it’s so bad that I can’t perform normal administrative tasks or even read a book or magazine for pleasure. After periods of intense stimuli, I just don’t have the bandwidth.

So yeah…….with (what felt like) a hundred people in the building and their children talking, making messes, asking for attention, some of them screaming…..I had had enough. Was it due to vestibular issues, PTSD, HSP or Empathy? The answer is YES. All of the above.

Again, a huge thank you to my employer and for the universe who put me in their path so I could have a supportive place to work from which I could escape if things become too intense. And my heart goes out to those who aren’t equally supported in their place of employment or who struggle to find employment due to what can often be debilitating symptoms – symptoms that are so invisible that disability won’t even take a look at them.

What Privilege Taught Me to Believe

September 15, 2024 / Lauri Ann Lumby / 1 Comment

and how those beliefs were undone

I didn’t grow up wealthy, but I did grow up privileged. I was born white to middle class parents, raised in a predominantly white third-generation neighborhood of white-collar professionals and tradesmen. In most of the homes around us, the men worked, and the mothers stayed home. The children were feral and unsupervised, only because everyone believed we were safe. We had a roof over our head, three square homecooked meals a day, new clothing (unless you were a younger sibling), and a basement full of toys. We enjoyed piano and dance lessons. Our parents sent us to private school.

Life was good and in that state of perceived safety and abundance, we believed in the promise of “The American Dream” – a good education and hard work was the path to success and the harder you worked, the more successful you would become. We were also taught that welfare was for lazy people and we should judge them and treat them accordingly. There was a clear dividing line between us (hard workers) and them. And a not-so-subtle dividing line between us (white people) and them (people of color).

All of this happened along side a devout Catholic upbringing. God was the old man in the sky. We were undeserving of God’s love. God’s love had to be earned and could be taken away. And abortion was a mortal sin. We were even invited to join the school’s “Pro-Life” club from whom we would get a bright shiny silver bracelet marking us as “soldiers of Christ” in the war against abortion (this was all on the heels of Roe vs. Wade). As a young adult, I volunteered at a pro-life “clinic” for women facing unexpected pregnancies.

In addition to all of this: we were raised Republican. We were told Republicans were good and were looking out for the good of the people and that Democrats were communists – and that was bad! I remember knock down drag ‘em out fights between certain family members who (gasp) belonged on different ends of the political spectrum. The Democrats were good people, but clearly delusional – at least that’s what we were led to believe.

In college (YES! I attended university, which was mostly paid for by my parents – another privilege), I joined a sorority (more privilege), continued attending mass and attended adult faith formation classes. I voted for Ronald Reagan, and later, for George H. W. Bush.

Other than being a brunette, I was the stereotypical white girl of privilege.

But then, life happened.

My previous stance on abortion was the first thing to go. In the volunteer position, I witnessed first-hand the violent tactics often used by the Pro-life movement in dissuading women from seeking an abortion. There was no compassion shown, only judgment, accompanied by violent and graphic images of late-term abortions. There was a reason I wasn’t allowed into the “counseling” room at the clinic. Additionally, with over 40% of pregnancies being unplanned, I was bound to eventually meet a young woman, likely a friend, who would have to face a sometimes-difficult choice. As statistics would have it – I did – come to know of several friends who at one time had to face an unplanned pregnancy. Further, I knew of several who had no choice but to seek the termination of the pregnancy for medical issues related to either the baby, or their own survival. Abortion, it turned out, wasn’t so black and white. How could I judge a woman (or a couple) who was having to face the most difficult decision of their life – one that would stay with them their whole life. The decision to terminate a pregnancy (no matter what the circumstances) is a wound that does not heal. It changes, but the pain will always be there on some level. Compassion told me to put myself in the others’ shoes and support them through a very difficult decision. And to understand that at any point, I could find myself in a similar position forced to make a similar difficult choice.

The second thing that went was my belief in the American Dream. The first of this leaving happened in my own professional journey. Sheepskin in hand, I went out looking for work. And this is a FACT – not once in my 40 years of being in the post-college workforce have I made more than $26,000 per year. NEVER. Not once. This was not for lack of effort, work, skills, or abilities. Now at a ripe almost 60, it is not for lack of education, experience, or expertise. The universe has imposed some sort of invisible ceiling between myself and money – never even surpassing (which was also the big privileged promise) the salary of my father.

Hard work and a college education, as it turns out, is NOT a guaranteed path to wealth.

No matter how much someone else wants to tell you otherwise.

Then I experienced poverty. Thankfully not poverty of the sort that far too many suffer, but I have faced an enduring period of financial struggle – the likes of which has had me utilizing some of those so-called “communist” programs. I have received rental assistance and energy assistance. I qualified for Food Stamps and could have been using the Food Pantry (I chose to use neither, but at a grave consequence to me financially – eventually leading to bankruptcy). I have enjoyed the profound benefits of the Affordable Healthcare Act – in fact, my life depends on it. Finally, I am on an income-based repayment plan for my graduate school student loans (if anyone wants to argue with me about student loan forgiveness, DON’T!!!!! I will direct you straight to Matt Taibbi and his expose’ on the criminal nature of the student loan industry!!!!!)

Beyond my own personal experience, I have witnessed hundreds, if not thousands struggling with similar or much worse circumstances. I have seen, through clear eyes, that the so-called “American Dream” is a lie and that there are, indeed, systemic obstacles to Americans realizing that dream. This fact of reality breaks my heart and inspires me to share my own journey beyond the lies that come with privilege.

As it relates to Catholicism. This may be the biggest irony of them all. I have always been a woman of faith (whatever that means). I was a devout Catholic until the local Church made it clear I was no longer welcome. Jesus is my teacher and Mary Magdalene has become a guide. I sometimes pray the rosary and turn to Michael the Archangel in times of anxiety. I cherish my Catholic upbringing – for good and bad – but mostly, for what I learned about social justice:

Jesus calls us to love. Period. And he was quite clear about what love looked like:

Judge not lest ye be judged.
Love your neighbor as yourself.
Everyone is your neighbor.
Welcome immigrants and foreigners.
Feed the hungry.
Set prisoners and captives free.
Clothe the naked.
Heal the sick.
Give sight to the blind.
Welcome “the other” to your table.
If someone asks for your cloak, give them your shirt as well.
Love one another. Period.

As it turns out, it is my faith that has called me to depart from the politics in which I was once immersed and toward a political stance that supports the needs of the all. As my own life has shown me, even privilege does not guarantee that life will provide us with what we need. It has also shown me that by our own efforts, our own needs may not necessarily be met. There’s a little story in scripture that seems to provide a solution to this quandary:

All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceedsto all, as any had need. (Acts 2: 44-45)

If a sharing among the common good was good enough for Jesus and his earliest disciples, then it’s good enough for me. This is what love has taught me.

Appropriating the Magdalene

September 14, 2024 / Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

a warning written in blood?

This morning, another Magdalene appropriator was brought to my attention. Knowing this person and their long history of taking credit for other people’s work, or outright stealing their work for their own uses, I first became afraid, then enraged. How dare this person (who I know)…

I tried. I really tried to write something – appropriate? Scathing? Eeking of black magic? But I found I just couldn’t.

I just couldn’t because, it’s already been done!

“The true Magdalene stands on her own.”

These are my very own words! (Read full blog here).

The Magdalene doesn’t need my defending. Neither does the work I do on her behalf and in her name.

As a dear friend reminded me, “I wouldn’t be too worried about it. Those drawn to her (said appropriator) are not on the same frequency as you are. You don’t want that low vibration. It’ll make you sick.” Right on that.

As one of my current training participants celebrated:

My work has no “whoo.”

Meaning – it’s the real deal! Rooted in scholarship. Anchored in contemplative prayer. Centered in scripture. Facilitating human development resulting in self-actualization.

For those willing to do the work.

No whoo. No one blowing smoke up someone’s ass telling them what they want to hear. No one taking advantage of other people’s insecurities or vulnerabilities to make themselves rich. NO SHINY OBJECTS!

Straight up Mary Magdalene continuing the work of her beloved teacher by showing people how to be love.

No wonder I couldn’t write what I originally intended. It’s not what the Magdalene would have done. Instead, it seems she intervened by staying my blood-dipped pen, forcing me to remember that I am not the one doing the work – She is! And…

The Magdalene takes care of her own.

See our full collection of online trainings:

Not Everything is a Trigger

September 10, 2024 / Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

The other day I was accused of having been “triggered” by a comment that was shared on Facebook. According to definition, a trigger is:

a stimulus that elicits a reaction. In the context of mental illness, “trigger” is often used to mean something that brings on or worsens symptoms. This often happens to people with a history of trauma or who are recovering from mental illness, self-harm, addiction, and/or eating disorders. (https://campushealth.unc.edu/)

What I experienced was not a trigger. Instead, it was something else entirely.

Here’s what happened. Someone on Facebook initiated a post that said, “if you have to refill your prescription, this is proof it’s not working.” The post then went on to suggest that there was some alternative path that would cure the condition for which one is taking a pharmaceutical medication.

First of all, this statement is medically incorrect. Secondly, I find it dangerous and irresponsible for someone who calls themselves a medical practitioner to make these kinds of claims. As one who relies on certain pharmaceuticals for my survival, I felt compelled to share my personal experience. That is all I did. I didn’t tell them they were wrong. I didn’t slander or insult them. I simply stated that in my personal experience, and for me personally, prescription medication is often helpful and sometimes necessary. I then explained my condition (polycystic kidney disease), along with all the alternative and wholistic treatments that I have and continue to utilize, thereby providing an integrated approach to my care. I am a sound advocate of authentic wholistic treatments and practitioners of these modalities. I also recognize that allopathic medicine has its place and is necessary in some (many) cases.

The person who initiated the post replied by dismissing what I said and then accusing me of being triggered. “I see you’ve been triggered.”

NO, I was not triggered! I simply shared my own personal experience.

Not everything is a trigger!

Trigger has become a hot topic in social media and elsewhere. The benefit is that as a society we have become increasingly aware of and sensitive to the fact that people have suffered trauma and that there are events, experiences, etc. that can illicit a trauma response that can prove harmful to the individual trying to recover from past traumas. The drawback is that there seems to be a growing trend of people throwing around the word “trigger” like rice at a wedding. Some use it to escape responsibility. Others use it to dismiss another’s experience. Some use it to feed their inner victim. Trigger as a clinical term is most appropriately used in the context of trauma and really should not be used in any other way.

Beyond the clinical definition, trigger may simply be understood as something that elicits an emotional response. As much as a trigger can arise out of trauma, it can also arise simply to get our awareness (though I wouldn’t really call it a trigger, instead, simply the body signaling for us to pay attention). Case in point, I had no trauma reaction to the pharmaceutical post, but what I did have was a clear and definite spark from my truth barometer.

Our truth barometer is the deep inner sense within us that alerts us when something we encounter is not in alignment with our truth, or even with absolute truth.

Unfortunately, we live in a culture that beats this truth barometer out of us, rather, it conditions us in such a way that we a) have forgotten how to hear that inner sense and/or b) we have learned not to trust it. For my whole entire life, I have had a strong truth barometer, but like most, was told along the way that it was invalid, or incorrect, or that I simply couldn’t know certain things that I know. Well…I have worked long and hard to reclaim that voice and I adhere to it and trust it every single time. Am I sometimes guilty, even now, of ignoring that voice? Absolutely! But when it really wants my attention, it tells me.

What my truth barometer told me in the case shared above is that the information shared was incorrect, arrogant, and dangerous. I said none of this to the poster. I’m not here to change other people’s beliefs. I did, however, feel like I had a responsibility to share (for others who may have seen the post and who are equally enjoying the life-saving benefits of pharmaceuticals) my own experience. My sharing was civil and respectful. Apparently, the poster didn’t think so. Instead, she accused me of being triggered, dismissed my personal experience, and then claimed to have a cure for what ails me. In doing all of this, she effectively avoided any personal responsibility for what she shared.

So… yeah….. Not everything is a trigger. Sometimes what some might interpret as a trigger is simply our inner truth calling out bullshit!

Vetting the Magdalene

August 18, 2024 / Lauri Ann Lumby / 2 Comments

A week or so ago, I received what might be one of the greatest compliments I have ever received in my professional life. I was holding a one-on-one session with a recent enrollee of my Magdalene Training Program. This woman is an academic and an educator. As I often do, I asked how she found me and the training program I offer. Her response was something along the lines of: “I’ll be honest, I did a lot of research. I looked at your program along with several others and all I can say is, ‘you made the cut.’” She went on to explain her criteria which included:

Based in scholarship.
Rooted in scripture.
Practical and applicable to real life.
Anchored in contemplative practice.
Embracing of Eastern and Western practices.
Authentically transformational (in other words: it works!)

She also observed, “There is no ‘whoo’ in your program. To which I responded, “Hallelujah!”

You see, in the years that I have been studying the Magdalene and then creating and facilitating formation programs in her name, the Magdalene world has gone from purely academic, with very few of us speaking and teaching in her name, to almost wholly capitalistic – with literally thousands appropriating the Magdalene for their own convoluted purpose. Where once the Magdalene was solely an example of the fulfillment of Jesus’ teachings, the continuation of his ministry and living contemplative empowerment, she is now being used to sell everything from perfumes to tarot cards to so-called “sacred prostitution.” Further, all kinds of claims are now being made and marketed about the Magdalene – none of which can actually be proved.

In reality, we know very little about the Magdalene, except the few passages in scripture (many of which have been redacted), the mentions of her in non-canonical (often called gnostic) writings, and the legends that have been handed down throughout history by the people of Provence, France, the Sophian Gnostics, and the newly revealed Gospel of the Beloved Companion. Among all these resources mentioned, none of them can be proven as absolutely true.

The fact is, we just don’t know. As is true of scripture in general, nothing stands up to academic rigor. The same is true of the Magdalene. We can only make guesses:

Is Magdalene a surname, place name, or title?
Was the woman referred to as Miriam of Magdala from the town of Magdala (archaeology suggests not).
What does it mean that this woman was “healed of seven demons?” (We can only guess)
Who really witnessed the resurrection?
What does resurrection even mean?
What happened to Mary after Jesus’ death? (we only have legend to go on here).
Did Mary travel to Britain? (maybe but doubtful).
What about the whole “heiros gamos” thing (depends on how you define that – but on the surface, not likely).
Was Mary an Essene (more than doubtful as the Essenes abhorred women).

These questions represent just the tip of the iceberg. There is absolutely nothing we can say about the Magdalene that is irrefutably true. The best we can do is gather the best research and develop guesses from there and when we stray from scholarship, being clear about the basis of what we are sharing.

What we shouldn’t do, however, is make claims about the Magdalene that have absolutely no basis in scholarship and then sell them as fact. The sad reality however, is that thousands of people are out there doing exactly this while convincing others to pay for goods and services that are based in pure fantasy. On behalf of the Magdalene, I’m offended by this, but she doesn’t need my defending.

The true Magdalene stands on her own.

This has been born out in the women and men who have participated in and completed the Magdalene (inspired) Training Program I have developed, journeyed through myself, and now facilitate. My program differs from other programs being sold in her name by these criteria:

Based in scholarship.
Rooted in scripture.
Practical and applicable to real life.
Anchored in contemplative practice.
Embracing of Eastern and Western practices.
Authentically transformational (in other words: it works!)

No, this work isn’t for everyone. It requires discipline, dedication, persistence, personal accountability, and self-awareness. In my own life and in the lives of those who have completed this program, the results speak for themselves. Participants come away knowing more about themselves, more about their own personal mission and calling, and have the tools to support themselves in moving past the obstacles to living a purposeful and meaningful life. No whoo here. No smoke blown up your ass. No false promises. No bullshit. Just resources and tools inspired by the Magdalene and the mission of Truth that she shared with her mentor, teacher, and friend, Jesus.

Waiting and Watching

August 15, 2024 / Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

The current universe energies are weird. According to my astrologer friends, this week is supposed to be the worst of the year. Strangely, I’m experiencing just the opposite. “The worst week” for me were the two previous weeks – where my personal energy felt very volatile, fragile, vulnerable, highly emotional, disproportionately reactionary, and I did not feel like myself at all!

Yes, the energies this week are strange. I’ve felt disturbances in the force. I’ve felt underlying anxieties and fears. I had the sensation of “something wicked this way comes.” AND, I suffered the heartbreak of learning that someone I care about might be racist, transphobic, and xenophobic (among other things).

And yet, even with all of this, I still feel a strange sense of calm. It’s a kind of “waiting and watching” calm. The calm before the storm? Perhaps.

Tuesday evening, I experienced a visitation of sorts in my dreams. The only way I can describe the visitation was that of a teacher – male in appearance and distinctly dark complected with dark (almost black) hair. In the dream, there were no words exchanged, only a deep gaze – as if into my soul, and through that gaze, I felt learning being imparted to me. It felt like a download of information and knowledge. There was nothing specific within the download or identifiable, just the sensation of being filled up with a kind of ineffable flow of energetic substance. I woke up with the dream fresh in my mind along with the sense of having been prepared or being prepared for……something. This download “continued” throughout the day and was experienced as physical sensations of energy moving down through my body. I had the sense of this being the integration of what I “learned.”

I have no idea of what I learned. There are no words to give to it. It simply felt like necessary preparation for that which I do not and may never know or understand.

So now I wait. I wait and watch as humanity continues along its current trajectory. There are so many things at the tipping point – and in any moment the whole house of cards might collapse upon itself. AND there’s nothing I can or need to do to hasten it along or prevent its coming. All I can do is wait and watch – an objective witness to whatever the collective decides to do with what God has given them and with the catastrophe they have created for themselves.

For Whom is Prayer?

August 8, 2024August 8, 2024 / Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

I’m in an ongoing quandary/inquiry with a fellow monastic friend related to the topic of prayer. Central to this inquiry are questions around:

Why do we pray?
Do our prayers matter?
What do our prayers actually influence (if anything)?
What good is prayer?
What even do we mean by prayer?

Prayer means different things to different people. In the tradition in which I was raised, prayer consisted of formulaic rote prayers. Having grown up Catholic, prayer included those we recited at mass, the rosary (and the prayers that made up the rosary), saint novenas, prayers to saints, prayers for special intentions, etc. Prayer was words we sent up toward God or to whichever saint we were praying to for their intercession. (Saints were considered intermediaries between ourselves and God). Prayer also included all of our requests of God – to make us happy, healthy, to cure a disease, to help someone who needs God’s help, for God to intervene in a conflict or struggle, pleading to God for world peace, praying for the repose of a recently deceased’s soul, and finally, prayers for the release of “the poor souls in purgatory.”

In a nutshell, prayer was asking God for something or reciting rote prayers

in the hopes of gaining God’s favor, love, or forgiveness.

But here’s the thing….in the same breath that these prayers were taught and, in some cases, enforced, were the teachings about a God who was unconditionally loving, all-forgiving, and who knew what we needed before we could even ask. If this was the God we were taught to believe in, then what was the point of all those prayers? (And what would be the point of purgatory or even hell for that matter?????) Why would we need to offer prayers for God’s approval, to earn God’s love, to beg forgiveness, even to ask for healing or help for another if all this was already given, unbidden, by an all-loving God?

The answer, as it turns out, is simple. Prayer is not for God. Prayer is for the one who prays.

Rote, repetitious prayer, gives our mind something to do when we are anxious or afraid. Repeating a series of phrases or a single line provides a rhythm that helps to calm our mind and restore us to peace. Running our fingers over rosary beads has been proven to further facilitate a peaceful mind. Repeating memorized prayers while moving our fingers over rosary beads while reflecting on the life of Jesus and Mother Mary engages all parts of the brain with the benefit of hastening the experience of an easeful mind. Intercessory prayers – asking for God’s intervention or assistance in a matter of importance or to request healing for ourselves or another – gives us the feeling of having some control over an otherwise uncontrollable situation. When we are feeling alone, afraid, ashamed, burdened, offering a prayer to God helps us to feel not so alone and might help us forgive ourselves when there is nothing to forgive from God’s point of view.

While God doesn’t need our prayers, we do. This is why we pray. It’s not for God – to earn God’s love, to seek God’s forgiveness, it is for our own peace of mind, to release our own shame, and perhaps one day, to understand that no matter what anyone else might say, we are unconditionally and infinitely loved.

I Care Too Much

August 7, 2024 / Lauri Ann Lumby / 6 Comments

I have a confession to make. I talk big about cultivating the fine art of detachment and learning not to care, but in reality, I care too much. It’s a problem:

I care about the state of our world.
I care about humanity’s wellbeing.
I care about the lack of peace and the pervasive nature of conflict.
I care that some humans are truly evil and intentionally cruel.
I care about the health of our environment and the safety of our water and food.
I care about injustice.
I care that people are starving, homeless, without adequate medical care, living in war-torn countries where their safety is continually threatened.
I care that people die in unnecessary wars.
I care that the best humanity can come up with for resolving conflict is war.
I care about ignorance and the bad decisions human beings make because of a lack of verifiable information.
I care that there are people in the world who thrive on manipulating and abusing others.
I care…I care…I care…

More than all of this, I care about the people I love. I want the best for them. I want them to be happy, healthy, well cared for, and safe. I want them to succeed in whatever they set out to do. I want them to have peace, to know contentment and to experience joy. I want them to feel loved.

The problem with caring, is that I am not in control over any of the things I care about. That drives me insane. It is excruciating to observe humanity and to see all the unnecessary violence, conflict, and hatred. It is even more difficult to watch those you love make decisions that will cause themselves or someone else harm. It is especially challenging when you have some experience in a certain area and can predict the harm that will come when one takes a certain path. This is hundred-fold true when you have a tiny bit of pre-sentience and a thousand-fold true when you are an empath, or when someone you love asks for guidance, and you give it, and they choose the exact opposite.

It actually hurts me to see some choosing certain paths. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about any of it. So I writhe in agony. I become frustrated, angry, and impatient. I get balled up in self-righteousness. My anxiety escalates and my depression deepens. Sometimes it’s so bad my PTSD is triggered. It sucks.

Then I apply every single spiritual practice I know for detaching and letting go. Sometimes it helps. More often not. Or if it does, the effects are only temporary, and I find myself right back in the place of caring.

UGH!

There are days I want to shake my fist at God: “Why did you make me care???” There are other days I try to bargain, “Can’t you make me NOT CARE like so many people seem to do?” Then there are the days where I make myself not care – I have to get angry to not care, and then I feel guilty and like I’m being a complete asshole.

UGH!

Caring is a curse, but I’m not sure I would want to be any other way. Someone has to give a shit! Right!? If I don’t care, who will? If someone doesn’t care what will come of this world?

But then I look at what we call “God.” Does “He” even care? I sometimes think not. Instead, it seems that God leaves us to our own devices and lets the chips fall where they may – consequences, natural law, karma, and all that jazz.

If God doesn’t care, then why do I? It’s a serious question.

Some might call caring “codependency.” Yeah, I can own that. I do care – often too much. The too much is an ebb and a flow. Better on some days than others. When I’m feeling vulnerable, or anxious, or unwell, it might be worse. When my PTSD is triggered it’s definitely worse. Unraveling from being a first-born and certain cultural conditioning is hard. Healing from childhood wounds and forced extroverted niceness (brought about by multiple moves) takes time. People pleasing and over-responsibility have to be unlearned.

It’s a journey. But as hard as I am on others, I’m a million times harder on myself. I should have this thing down by now. Right!?

WRONG! Not even close. Turns out I’m human, fragile, vulnerable, and imperfect and broken just like everyone else. And more than anything else, I am not in control over the fact that I am excruciatingly human – and that just kills me.

Peace is an Act of Rebellion

August 3, 2024 / Lauri Ann Lumby / Leave a comment

We live in a world that is driven by fear and thrives on chaos. Conflict and violence have become so much a part of life that entire economies are based on the lucrative business of war. Entire family systems have been defined by the abuse they inflict and then inhabit. The relationship paradigms we have been sold are rooted in codependency and hierarchical control. Our educational systems have lost their focus on learning and are now directed toward a definition of success that is rooted in a competition to acquire the most wealth, power, and fame. Careers are no longer centered in the search for meaningful and fulfilling work which helps to provide what a society needs to survive and thrive, but are instead geared toward making billionaires richer.

Fear, chaos, conflict, competition, violence, and abuse have become so much a part of our lives that we have come to believe that all of this is not only normal, but healthy. We shrug our shoulders and walk away when anyone dare question this status quo. “It is what it is,” we hear people say. Or things like: “it’s just how things are done, it’s what we’ve always known, I have to make a living…” And if anyone dare to offer another possibility – a life, for example, that might be peaceful, gentle, and full of ease, that person becomes a pariah – accused of being a “commie” or just plain insane.

Chaos, conflict, competition, and violence are a choice. It is one the vast majority of humanity has been making for five thousand years or more. But in the same way that conflict is a choice, so too is peace. Contrary to popular belief based on centuries of conditioning, we have the power to choose peace over conflict, collaboration over competition, ease over chaos, and gentleness over violence. But more often we don’t. And we have to ask ourselves why.

The answer is simple. Choosing peace is an act of rebellion. When we choose peace, we are putting every single system based on fear, power, and control in question. When we choose ease, we are disturbing the status quo. When we disturb the status quo, we become a threat to those who benefit from a system based in fear, power, and control. And when we choose to be gentle, we are challenging all those who have come to belief conflict and competition are not only normal, but necessary.

Choosing peace strikes terror in the hearts of those who either benefit from fear, power, and control, or who believe that nothing else could possibly be true.

As a culture/species, we are addicted to conflict and chaos. For many, the idea of peace threatens this addiction. Because of their addiction, they seek more and more of what gives them a charge. Perhaps they know nothing other than trauma, so to them this feels normal. Maybe they are fueled by anger and resentment. Giving someone permission to choose peace threatens the drug to which they have become accustomed.

Choosing peace is an act of rebellion because of all that is threatened by this choice. AND, there is a way for humanity to choose peace, but it first has to recognize its addiction to violence (physical, mental, emotional, psychological, and spiritual violence), and take the critical steps in healing that violence. As that violence becomes healed, and the charge of addiction overcome, it is there that humanity will find its peace. In finding that peace, humanity will wonder, “What the heck was wrong with me that I would choose violence over this?” Choosing peace then becomes the thing that is most valued and what humanity would choose again and again over the violence it has previously come to know.

Choosing peace is an act of rebellion, and it begins with a dream. Dream with me!