Pop 89: Thoughts and Prayers
By Madonna Hamel
madonnahamel@hotmail.com
I’m reading a book by Dr. Daniel Amen entitled: Your Brain Is Always Listening. It’s a scary thought, considering the amount of chatter, judgement, thoughts of remorse and resentment that goes on up in there on any given day. The book warns us that our brain responds to hidden influences, many of them harmful and that unless we recognize them and deal with them, these hidden influences can “steal your happiness, spoil your relationships and sabotage your health.” And in many cases, “those influences stem from unreconciled and traumatic events.” Without attending to that trauma, they can cause senseless destruction. It’s that severe.
Over the last twenty years, I’ve listened to many, many stories told by recovered addicts and alcoholics. They tell on themselves. Many speak of a past filled with abuse, neglect, and violence - a past so distorted and remorse-filled that I found it hard to believe that the gentleman or woman standing in front of me was that same person guilty of multiple crimes such as spending their last dollar on booze instead of feeding their children, robbing their aged parents, or leaving their best friend for dead. Such is the power of thought-altering substances.
Each one of the story-tellers sought help, got humble, revealed their deepest darkest secrets, found a connection with other recovering addicts and found serenity through a connection with a Higher Power of their understanding they call The Creator, God, Great Spirit, the Great Reality, the Source, or just plain Love. To this power, they pray, yes, pray, in whatever fashion and through whatever spiritual practice brings them strength of spirit, especially in times of sudden misfortune.
And they begin giving back to their community. Some are now leaders, mentors, inspirations, bearing no resemblance to their addict selves. Every single one of them did whatever it took to get sane again. Every single one of them have people around them to help keep them accountable, humble and honest. And every single one of them will tell you when they hear of killing frenzies, the first thing that comes to mind is drugs and alcohol.
Sadly, there are more frenzied, isolated, messed up, addicted souls out there than there are recovered ones. And the great tragedy of all is the wreckage they cause. There are dozens of contributing factors that encourage an addictive lifestyle, from a life of unbearable pain to a culture that sells us products to improve the millions of aspects of ourselves that are not deemed lovable as it. Consumerism, after all, requires us to get and stay hooked. It needs us to keep on buying. Its end game is addiction.
This morning I watched and listened to a bereft Daryl Burns speak to a long history of intergenerational trauma at the same time as I was reading Dr. Amen’s book about the effects of trauma on the brain. The author, an American, writes about trauma affecting Natives Americans on reserves. “Serious trauma affects the nervous system so deeply it changes the nature of our genes, which can affect offspring for generations.” He concludes: “The massacres against Native Americans continue to this day.”
As I write this, Mark Arcand is on the screen, sitting at a table with members of his family, reminding us, in a press conference, not to make assumptions, not to get mired in negativity, and above all, not to call his sister Bonnie a victim. “She is a hero. She died trying to protect her family,” he says. Above all, he reminds us, keep the focus on family. It’s so tempting for the press to probe with provocative remarks and leading questions, but Arcand keeps returning to words of love and affection for family.
“We take care of everybody,” he said about his community. “That’s our way.” And one way to take care is to remember each other with story. He refers to the family members using their nicknames, and when a reporter asks how someone got their nickname, he gives a little laugh and tells a story, then says: “Thank you for asking. It is part of how we heal - finding the moments of healing laughter.”
Arcand also said: “It’s going to take a community to come together - and that’s this province. And this country.” Can we be that kind of country? Can we be a national community - a larger family that all our relations require us to be? Can we set aside our assumptions and hunger for lurid details? Can we act with the kind of dignity, humility and kindness that these families are demonstrating, even in the midst of a shock so massive they are still in it, a shock that “layers trauma on top of trauma,” as Arcand says?
I think of the miraculous lives of my friends in the recovery community. Another community not just in word but in deed. And how they have healed through sharing their stories. I admire Arcand when he admits that, even though he stopped drinking 22 years ago, he wanted to drink the night after what he witnessed. He knows the journey is a long one. It will take treatment and support, gentleness and patience to allow it to take its course.
As for the media community, it will take respect for a culture and its protocols. And the common sense not to ask absurd, thoughtless and ill-timed questions like this one from a reporter: “What lesson will you take away from this?” To her, I turn the question around: What lesson have you learned from the grace of the bereaved?
Yes, my thoughts are with all the families. But even more so, my prayers go out to them. Because while my thoughts are internal hopes, there are also thoughts of anger and despair, my prayers are petitions. I pray to the power of Love to bestow peace and healing and a good night’s sleep on you all. My prayers go out to you. To all of us.