Debbie Halbedl was good at having fun. She was like a Cat in the Hat and she lived two doors down from me. So here’s the thing – when we moved to our new house in 1956 I played with my younger sister (17 months younger, to be exact and she would get to be the ‘baby’ of the family for seven whole years…). And yet we were like twins and people often assumed that about us. Despite the age difference we were the same size. Maybe that’s why I branched out. I wasn’t the baby, I wasn’t the first born (boy OR girl…). I was the proverbial middle child. So that’s why Debbie had such appeal – MISCHIEF and I was SPECIAL. The Cat’s chosen playmate. So I abandoned Roberta every chance I got and Debbie and I ran the neighborhood – juntos/con safos. Woo Hoo I was having an adventure for the first time without my family! I was SOMEBODY.
Mom and Roberta weren’t on board with this arrangement. Roberta was lonely and left out and Mom, besides feeling sorry for her had to hear her woes. Mom had enough on her plate and this extra side dish irritated her. Actually, to be honest, Mom didn’t care for Debbie. Let’s just say Mom’s dislike for Debbie was HUGE.. So when she read me the riot act almost daily, “You have to include your sister, Roberta” there was urgency and and maybe a bit of anger too? Now let me tell you I was an overly sensitive child (as in, scaredy cat) and Mom’s ‘ suggestions ‘ gave my tummy a twirl.
I had a real problem, a dilemma. Probably the first ever in my whole life. Risk my mom’s wrath hanging with Debbie sans Roberta to have some REAL fun. [Debbie was firm. We were a duo not a threesome. I was a true blue follower. And a wimp…or could I just say easy going. And two five year olds had me by the ring in my nose even though I had an entire grade on them I didn’t have the chutzpah to use my advantage]. My other road to play town was to stick solely with my Sis and make do with our usual play fare (no pun intended)
In September of my first grade year I could still venture out with Debbie knowing how my mom felt about it and the consequence was to simply endure the lecture and admonishments. By May of first grade the rules changed…play with Debbie, leave Roberta out, Mom fusses at me – but now it’s a SIN! I’m doing the exact same thing only suddenly I’m loaded with GUILT. Before you feel too sorry for me let me tell you I needed that guilt. It actually came in real handy. You see, all good little Catholic school boys and girls across the country in 1959 were being prepared to make their First Confession. This would once again purify our souls and ready us for our First Communion. I couldn’t go into that tiny black box and have nothing to say!
Sin or no sin, up to that time I had pretty much stayed out of grown ups line of fire. I feared my own shadow and instinctively avoided anything that would bring me face to face with a big person’s direct anger at me. So month after month as we were each dragged into the confessional to be sin free for First Friday (no more consent required than for our nightly bathing routine – dirty or not) I had to become more creative with my definition of sin. Fourth Commandment: Thou Shall Honor Thy Father and Mother. In short, it meant no disobeying your parents. Great! I could dare to do that a little more often and have something to report. A few grades later I got hip to using GOSSIPING as a venial trespass (or in another parlance, misdemeanor). The older I got the easier it got. Shame and guilt became my natural state of mind.
The Catholics didn’t invent guilt, and shame, and sin. They just happened to ritualize the releasing of it. My Protestant neighbors were into the whole thing too. Good and Bad. Right and Wrong. Black and White. Light and Dark. Punishment and Reward. Karma and Energy. Sin and Redemption. Angels and Devils. Every denomination puts it in these words or those Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts espouse it and simply being good citizens requires indoctrination of similar intensity.
And all because I just wanted to play with Debbie Halbedl. I guess, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun… That urge was so strong and my innocence was no longer presumed so now I entered a whole new inner dimension. Who’s in there? What’s in there?
A good 60 years later I don’t think I’ve changed much as far as constantly and daily encountering some version of the Debbie Halbedl dilemma. And most days I have about as much awareness of a ‘Choosing Debbie’ moment as I did before the Commandments took over my life. It takes seconds, minutes, hours days or weeks. Sometimes as long as months or even years before it conks me on the head. Ouchie. And there goes my happy days, my purity, my innocence. I’m delivered to the dark side.
Thoughts, actions or words that I come to regret are never in their essence any different than my early playmate choice. It feels good at the time. I have limited awareness of its impact on me or anyone else. So I do it! I call it my Human Power. Most days that’s what’s running my show. I can go for pretty long stretches, hours for sure, and sometimes even days Running on Human Power. Sucked into the whole: This is Just Fun Flow, or the Let’s Play the Blame Game, or, my favorite, I’m gonna Wallow in Self Pity Day and I’m always oblivious to how HUMAN I’m being.
Pinging and ponging from guilt and shame to righteousness and superiority, denial and self recrimination to anger and high drama – my Human Stuff is creating as good or better than anything on the Big Screen….
Lately, it seems my life is bringing me closer and closer to closing The Gap. It’s happening more and more often. Running on Human Power is so exhausting. I’m desiring with greater frequency the ease and gentleness of my Divine Power. Those moments when my body completely releases all my tension. A smile that comes from courage to have my presence seen. Laughter that I can’t contain any more than I could when I was a ‘victim’ of my brother’s tickle wars. Star gazing in my front yard far from city light. Awestruck by the mystery and magic of all those blazing dots and the vastness of the Universe. Babies babies, babies. Nose to their bellies and drinking in their fragrance. Powder soft touch of their roly poly skin. Girlfriends, old friends, sisters, the blessing of my 92 year old dear mother, my happy, healthy, wholesome children. And the joy of true forgiveness for myself and/or a special loved one. Running on Divine Power. I’M HOOKED!
My World My Words 