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anitaParticipantDear Steve:
Thank you for sharing this—it’s beautiful how you’ve connected the ten worlds with the body and breath in such a grounded, visual way. I especially liked how the joining of both hands becomes a symbol of unity—suffering and awakening held together, not apart. That line about “the aim of reality is the meaning of life—to bring life meaning” really stayed with me.
I’d love to hear more sometime about how this framework has shaped your daily life.
Warmly, Anita
anitaParticipantDear Peter:
Thank you for reminding me of my personal mission statement: to do no harm, and help in the ways I can.
This conversation has me reflecting on how the “we/they” reflex isn’t just cultural—it’s biological. Most social animals protect their own group: bees defend their hives, hyenas chase away intruders, humans form tribes. It’s a deeply wired survival instinct.
I recently came across the term “threat rigidity”—a psychological response that kicks in when we feel under threat, whether the danger is real or perceived, and whether it’s physical, emotional, cultural, or economic. In that state, our thinking narrows and becomes rigid: “We” = the in-group to protect “They” = the outsiders who pose a risk
Fear rises → people polarize. The other side becomes not just “different,” but dangerous or immoral. We stop listening and start defending. Compromise feels like betrayal, and we begin gathering in smaller, more like-minded “us” circles.
You pointed to this so clearly when you wrote: “Our minds crave safety in clear distinctions: ‘us’ versus ‘them,’ ‘inside’ versus ‘outside.’”
So much polarization is promoted day and night by the Polarizer-in-Chief—someone who regularly emphasizes “us vs. them” and often frames issues in stark, binary terms, casting political opponents, the media, etc., as enemies or threats.
Back to your words: “The more we recognize that ‘they’ reflect parts within ourselves, the more the boundary softens, and the ‘we’ naturally expands. My use of ‘we’ is an invitation to lean into the latter.”-
That invitation isn’t a denial of division, or a pretense that unity already exists. It’s a call to imagine a wider belonging—even when fear or instinct urges us to draw the line tighter. You’re suggesting that we pause and question the “they” we feel tempted to push away.
What I hear you saying, in essence, is: I know the reflex to divide is strong. But what if we softened around it—just a little? What might grow then?
You wrote: “How can WE make a positive difference, in a Life worth living? Perhaps healing begins, and a new consciousness awakens, when we take the step to see the ‘they’ in ‘we,’ and the ‘we’ in ‘they.’”-
Looking at my post of last night, right above, I notice that the pull toward “we” is emotional, even physiological. Especially for someone like me, who once felt outside the circle of belonging for too long. I found myself last evening in a group expressing strong anti (local) government, anti-liberal sentiment and it was so easy—so tempting—to feel the warmth of inclusion when “they” weren’t present to complicate the story.
It made me realize how seductive belonging can be when it’s built on opposition—how “we” can form most easily when “they” are conveniently silent or unseen.
Your invitation to soften the divide, to notice who we push away reflexively, feels even more important after witnessing that in myself. Because of your words, Peter, I feel more aware this morning. My consciousness has shifted—moving me toward greater courage, and toward expanding the we.
With appreciation, Anita
anitaParticipantJournaling this Friday night 10:20 pm, whatever comes to mind (having the little I understand from Peter’s post I just came across):
There is nothing stronger than the need TO BELONG, the need to be approved of as one who is part of a yes-group.
It’s the strongest in those who did not belong, those (me) who were too alone and lonely for too long.
The appeal, the attraction of belonging.. is intoxicating.
The ATTRACTION of belonging to a “we” that’s different and opposed to “they” is huge.
I experienced it tonight, in real-life (the strong anti-government, anti-liberal sentiment). It was so easy because there was no vocal representative of the “they’-
It was a We …and I wanted to belong to that We.
Anita (10:35 pm)
anitaParticipantDear Peter: I wasn’t aware of your post, the one exactly 10 minutes before my last post (to Alessa) until just now. I will read & reply Sat morning.
Anita
anitaParticipantDear Alessa:
Thank you so much for all your support and encouragement with computer technology!
As for your question—“Are there any public transport options?”—I do have access to a car, and I used to drive quite long distances… though that was quite some time ago.
In the last year or so (though not often), the longest I’ve walked is a little over 11 km (about 7 miles) to downtown. My usual walk is just under 5 km (around 3 miles). I just checked, and the nearest large shopping center is more than 15 km (12 miles) from where I live. Unfortunately, there’s no public transportation in the 7-mile stretch to downtown.
Still, it was a good thought, Alessa—if there were public transport nearby, I very likely would have used it.
Thank you also for the tips on online shopping and for offering to help. At the moment, a very special person is shopping on Amazon for me—just not for clothes!
And truly, thank you for your kind words regarding my mother. It’s funny (well, not really)—I can’t remember anyone ever taking my side in relation to her. What I experienced, over and over, were people protecting her, taking her side in one way or another, or excusing her behavior. Your response feels so different. So refreshing. ❤️❤️❤️
With gratitude, Anita
anitaParticipantDear Laven:
I read every word of your post above. It’s deeply disheartening to see how the adults in positions of authority—your foster mom, the temporary foster parents while she traveled, and the teacher you described—so profoundly failed you. The lack of support you received growing up, along with the neglect and mistreatment by churchgoers as well, is heartbreaking.
And yet, despite her abusiveness, your foster mom seems to have remained a central figure in your life. Somehow, in your experience, she still represented a kind of “better”, better than the alternatives—a place you connected with the feeling of home. I can see why she still matters to you at this time.
I just wish you’d been able to associate that sense of home with something—or someone— who treated you right. You deserve that.
I’m looking forward to hearing more of your story, Laven.
With care, Anita
anitaParticipantDear Peter:
I’m amazed by your message above. Truly—this piece feels like it should travel far and wide. It deserves to go viral, to land in millions of minds and hearts. There should be a song built from your words (.. I think I just might try writing it).
You wrote: “The world, for all its technological brilliance, seems determined to cling to an outdated consciousness, one rooted in competition, fear, and the illusion of separation. Just this week, countries have pledged to re-arm and increase military spending… It feels as though we are repeating the errors of the past, only now with more powerful tools and higher stakes.”-
You said it perfectly, Peter. You used the word we—“we are repeating…”—but the tragedy is that there’s so little of we in today’s fractured world. There’s too much of they… those people. And ironically, they (whoever they are) might say you’re the one caught in an illusion—the illusion that there is such a thing as “we”.
“This is not cynicism. It is grief. Grief for the potential we are squandering. Grief for the wisdom we ignore. Grief for the generations who may inherit a world more fractured than the one we were given.”- Again—so perfectly said.
“And yet, even in this grief, there is responsibility. If the world is not ready to change, then perhaps the work is not to wait for change, but to live, speak, and act from the consciousness we hope will one day take root. Even if we never see the harvest, we can still plant the seeds.”-
This made me think about something so simple, yet meaningful, that happened recently on the farm where I work. I was clearing overgrown blackberry bushes—thick, thorny, unruly—so that in a few months, apple-picking would be possible again. And there it was: a scrappy little plant growing nearby. Not beautiful. Not useful. I was about to rip it out simply because I didn’t like it. But I paused. Something shifted. I stopped thinking of it as an it—an intruder—and saw it as part of me, a quiet we. And I let it live.
“If we are to navigate this age bravely, we must do more than innovate. We must awaken. We must learn to slow down in the midst of speed, to listen in the midst of noise, and to remember that the most powerful technology we possess is not artificial, it is the human capacity for awareness, compassion, and transformation.”-
Peter, I’m honestly in awe—not only of your intellect, but of how clearly and concretely you communicate what matters most. You took something vast and made it feel personal. This post reads not like philosophy, but testimony. Not detached analysis, but a person standing in the thick of it, still choosing to see and care and hope.
Thank you for this.
Eight days ago, you invited me to write a song (“I hear the beginnings of a song?”), so here is one- with the assistance of AI😉:
Grief Is Not the End (for Peter)
We live in bright times with dim hearts.
Everything shines, but fewer things feel alive.
We have more, but we trust less.
We speak faster, but rarely listen.You didn’t write with anger.
You wrote with grief— for what could be, for what still might.
You said: Plant something anyway. Even if we never see it grow.That stayed with me.
So I’ll sit with the noise, and choose to listen.
I’ll move a little slower, and make room for hope.
Because maybe change starts like that.Not in speeches, but in small, human choices that say:
I’m still here. I still care.Anita and Copilot.
anitaParticipantDear Tea:
Your words hold so much depth, strength, softness, and truth. You’ve clearly done deep, courageous work—unraveling the knots of purity culture, reclaiming your body, and choosing to heal. It shows not only that you’re capable of love, but that you already carry within you the depth and emotional generosity that real love requires.
And yes, it makes sense that losing the connection with your last boyfriend would feel like losing a sacred part of your self-expression. Because that relationship wasn’t just about sex or romance—it was about becoming more yourself.
Your longing doesn’t mean you’re broken or codependent or “too much.” It means you’re alive. Still growing. Still hungry for a love that meets you where you are now—not where you were forced to be in the past.
So when you ask, “Maybe I’m asking for permission?”—Tea, consider this a wholehearted yes:
Yes, you’re allowed to crave touch and closeness.
Yes, it’s okay to feel sad, frustrated, or lonely—even when your life is full in other ways.
Yes, your desire for soulful companionship is not a weakness—it’s a compass.
Your kind of depth, Tea, doesn’t always show up in the usual fast-paced dating apps. But it can be found. Sometimes it’s about placing yourself where people are already showing up with the kind of energy you value.
You might find meaningful connection in settings like workshops or gatherings such as writing circles, expressive art workshops, improv classes, dance classes, yoga workshops, Tai Chi- these help reconnect people with their physical body as a source of emotion, intuition, and grounding—not just fitness. You might want to try mindfulness or meditation retreats, or volunteering with causes that mean something to you—shared purpose can lead to shared insight.
The goal may not be to “look” for someone—but to show up in places where the kind of people you’d want to know are showing up too.
With care, Anita
June 27, 2025 at 8:19 am in reply to: Should I Forget about him, or was he the one that got away? #447155anitaParticipantDear Emma:
In the following, I will quote parts of what you shared and gently offer my thoughts about each one.
“He can be (like Philip) very clear in the things he likes… and the people he does not like.”- This tells me that his four children probably tried very hard—at least for a time—to land on the “right” side of his approval before perhaps giving up on the pursuit altogether.
“He used to hug us kind of awkwardly.”- That kind of hug can leave a child anxious, unsure. It doesn’t soothe or ground; instead, it prompts questions like: Is there something wrong with me? Is it difficult to love me?
“Never sent me a heart emoji or kiss emoji even while I always do that. Somehow that hurt me a bit.”- That “bit” of hurt might actually hold many years’ worth of pain that’s been pushed down. It can seem like a small thing, but repeated emotional disappointment has a way of accumulating quietly.
“He told us he loved my mum the most, then his mother, then us.”- To be in third place like that—even if said in jest—can lodge itself in a child’s self-worth, as in: being worthy only of the leftovers of love, after the more “deserving” people are loved first.
“My mum always was very open in showing her love, but this often came down to helping us with everything, making sure we would not fail.”- That kind of love can carry the message that failure is dangerous or shameful—something to avoid at any cost.
“And listening to us if we were sad or worried. Same for my father btw!”- That’s a positive and important piece to acknowledge.
“But I feel like they always pushed us, not acknowledging our feelings deeply, or taking them seriously.”- This is emotional neglect. It’s not always loud, but it’s deeply felt. It’s the ache of not being known in your feelings, even when love is technically “present.”
“We always had to push ourselves.”- And to push oneself without enough emotional support is very, very difficult.
“What strikes me is that both my sister and I have a strange relationship with men—as soon as we feel some of them likes us, we tend to neglect ourselves.”- Here is that word—neglect. When love is paired with emotional neglect early in life, we can internalize the idea that neglect is a normal part of love. That to love someone means to disappear.
“Right now, a few of my friends, and my uncle, have said they suspect perhaps they might have narcissistic traits: my father in his very strict judgments of people and things… dismissing them or thinking less of them if they are not to his liking.”- It sounds like he may operate with what’s called black-and-white thinking, or all-or-nothing thinking—where people are either perfect or deeply flawed, with no room for in-between.
“My mum can handle criticism very badly. The other day I told her she hurt me by constantly commenting on my weight… She said her father once told her he could see she gained weight, and that almost got her into an eating disorder. Then she told me that that was her own responsibility.”- You told her how you felt, and she made it about herself. She wasn’t able to hold space for your feelings. Her own old wound—criticism from her father—rose to the surface and she was not able to be present with your hurt.
“I never stood up for myself enough, my mum did tell me this.”- But a child needs emotional support from a parent or someone else while growing up in order to stand up for themselves. You didn’t get enough of that support to build that foundation.
“He has been through a lot as a kid: his brother was very difficult and I believe it was him who had to protect his siblings and counsel his parents.”- That explains so much. A child who has to counsel their own parents learns to lead with control, not vulnerability. To be the protector and advisor at such a young age, he would have had to put his own feelings aside. And when trying to make sense of complex situations too early, the only available lens is often rigid, black-and-white thinking—the kind he may still carry.
Emma, I don’t see your parents as narcissists. I see them as wounded people. But what matters even more than labels is this: they weren’t able to meet your emotional needs adequately, even if they were trying in the ways they knew how.
And now, those needs—the ones that didn’t get met—deserve attention. They deserve air and light and space. Not to be pushed down like your mother’s were. Not to be overlooked like your father’s. Your feelings deserve to be held with gentleness and respect—especially by you.
You’re already doing this. By writing. By noticing. By daring to ask, “Do you recognize any of these things.. maybe?” You’re giving your inner world the attention it’s long been craving. That’s the work of healing—not pretending everything is okay, but staying present with what was missed and making room for it now.
Yesterday, I told you I would share about my own childhood. But I’ve decided not to do that on your thread right now (I’ve shared plenty on my own threads) because I wouldn’t want to confuse the space that’s so clearly becoming your own.
With care and deep respect, Anita
anitaParticipantAfter 10 pm, fifteen minutes after, and finally it’s DARK. Finally.
Why is the world such a Crazy Place?
It’s not just my doing, just me being crazy..
How can I, with your help- if you are reading- if you get me, how can WE make a positive difference?
Anita (Thurs 10:20 pm)
anitaParticipantJournaling at almost 10 pm and still light in-between the leaves of the trees outside the windows, definitely light.
Thinking of Alessa, simply because she may be the only one reading my words.
Alessa, the Empathy Expert, no one like you!
Other people who may be reading this, maybe Emma?
Of the hundreds, maybe thousands of people I’ve been communicating with, to one extent or another, since May 2015, who is reading my words?
Maybe one. Maybe two. Maybe a few.
How fragile is human connection, how temporary.
I wish there was much more of an ongoing, dependable, ongoing CONNECTION to hold on to.
Don’t you wish there were a bunch of people, a society you could depend on, a Village you were part of?
Wishing you don’t have to try so hard to belong, not anymore- because you fully BELONG?
Anita (10 pm)
anitaParticipantSorry (typing on my phone), I meant: You are welcome,L a v e n 😉
anitaParticipantYou are welcome, Haven’t. I will read and reply tomorrow.
anitaParticipantThank you, Alessa. I will read and reply tomorrow.
June 26, 2025 at 6:45 pm in reply to: Should I Forget about him, or was he the one that got away? #447139anitaParticipantTell me more tomorrow, and I will tell you more as well.🩵
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Though I run this site, it is not mine. It's ours. It's not about me. It's about us. Your stories and your wisdom are just as meaningful as mine. 