The Woman Warrior

It’s not easy being a Christian in a modern world. I have always been a warring child, and thus a warring woman. Yes, it’s true, I’ve always had a warring spirit within me. You might say I was very much like Isaiah, Rahab, or Peter. I am afraid of what that may mean, because their lives were definitely saved, but they went through horrendous suffering in life. Nonetheless, that is my DNA. I think God had planned on my being a warrior in prayer, because that is how I approach prayer, like a warrior who wants to eradicate evil, and save those who are weak and in need.

People like to make people like me out to be corny, nerdy, or worse, rebellious. But it serves a purpose when you’re a Christian, or I like to call myself better, a “Christ believer,” because the title “Christian” has become filled with yeast, or dilluted by so many who call themselves as such, but like me, they have trouble abiding.

As a little girl, I always had trouble listening to my parents because I was quite observing and critical. If they told me to obey Jesus, but they had trouble, I’d say: “Why should I, you don’t. I’ll figure it out myself.”

Looking back, there is no way I can say any longer, that my parents were poor parents; on the contrary, they were wonderful saints of Christ, why? Because they failed miserably as human beings, but they remained steadfast in their belief in Christ. That is the “ticket to ride,” when it comes to following the Lord.

When I think of the little rebel I was ALL MY LIFE, it stands to reason I have a lot of consequences that won’t go away now, much like Corrie Ten Boom.

For you younger people, it would do you good to look her up. Yes, I am a wild horse when it comes to becoming subject to others, but then again, I also am stubbornly sticking to the Lord, regardless of my human failings, which means: yes, I’m human, but I am saved by the grace of God through Jesus the God-Man, the Christ.

I’m still rebellious in many ways, I’m not a follower of people, it’s true, though I’ve let them influence my decision making, and usually mixed with my interpretation of what I think is best, and admittedly I haven’t made very good choices. But one thing I know: “forgetting what is behind me, and looking toward the prized of the  high calling of Christ Jesus, I press forward…” So it’s all good. Life is tough, but God is tougher, I think I’ll just ride the storm with God. Blessings upon this earth and mercy big time!

The Gospel in Isaiah – (Online Bible Study)

Rahab : The Prostitute God Uses

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18English Standard Version (ESV)

16 Rejoice always, 17 pray without ceasing, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

Lately, memories of family…coming back to me…

I was listening to this beautiful song, orchestrated with lead singer, Allison Cross, and it crept up on me; I saw past scenes, of which I remembered so many wonderful memories as a child.

I am not of European ancestry at all. In fact, my Daddy was from Maztzaclan, Mexico. My Mama was from Texas. She used to tell me that he was an orphan of Apache descent, but raised by a Mexican woman. When he was about 17-18 yrs. old he joined the Mexican army, but he had his own intention. He crossed the border, threw off his uniform in the wilderness, and went into California, started his career as a radio singer. Later, he played the part of an Indian in the western pictures, getting shot and falling off his horse.

Being older, he never mastered the English language, while my mother, from Texas, never allowed us to speak Spanish. Her history goes like this: in school, she was slapped or hit by teachers if they heard her speaking Spanish. So, she wanted us to be as American as any other immigrant, European or Latin, French, whatever.

As the years went on, my father became a Southern Baptist Minister, and he preached and ministered to the Mexican farm workers, since he also worked them. I will never forget his beautiful voice and his way of teaching. Although I would not speak it I understood everything he said.

When I was 17, and pregnant, my father while traveling to Mexico for his convention, was killed in a car accident. That fact has continued to illuminate so many of my senses of loss, and fears. To lose someone so far away, when you need them most was the beginning of my devastating life.

Years later when my mother died, it opened that old wound, and I understood the words I heard before: I am an orphan now.

This song reminds me of when I was a very small child. My family sung like this, in church. To boot, my grandfather was a minister as well. So my whole upbringing was “about that good ol’ way.”

I am old now, and remembering those days as a child has brought me comfort in this old body, longing to see all my family again, for nearly all of them have passed.

I still believe, and I plan to see them again, i pray to see them again. … Daddy, I miss you… Mama, too, but I had you with me in so little of the time… I will rejoice when I see you again…


I have been feeling very sad about this world’s way of dealing with the sorrow and pain of others, when we are in a good place and others are suffering.

Unfortunately, it took my becoming one of those suffering people, to realize what others go through.


Has anyone ever seen the movie, “Changing Lanes?” The general plot is about how some event occurring, can change a person’s entire life. Of course it begins with changing a lane, and an accident and so forth, but the title “Changing Lanes” is a metaphor for what happens to the people in the movie.


In 2008, and 2009, I lost one home and a business, and then I lost the other home I was going to retire in. I had not saved for anything else but those two properties, because I believed nothing could ever happen to real estate. When I began losing everything, without ever experiencing such devastation, I did not know what to do or from who to ask for help. I only knew I had to somehow gather strength to stop the  financial tsunami I was experiencing.


So here it was: In the economic downturn, I got sideswiped and forced to change lanes with devastating results.  From a life of ease and middle class comfort, I drove into a life of devastation, and slowly became a member of the poorest population in our society.


Did anyone in my line of profession come to help? No. I struggled for about two years moving, renting here and there, attempting to go back to school, thinking that would help me get a teaching job, while going to work for another broker, hoping to make ends meet that way.


Guess what… a famous corporation of real estate motivators called TOM FERRY, sued me during this time, because they could not find my 3-day right of refusal when I changed my mind in giving them money for exhorbitant priced training, that I realized I would not be able to afford in my desperate frame of mind. Since I moved around so much, I could not find my copy, and when I asked at work if they had a copy they had already disposed of OTHER people’s faxes, so I had no proof.


Consequently, I was forced to claim Bankruptcy; a situation I promised myself earlier in my life I would NEVER do. During all this time, during this harrowing economic crises, this big organization decided to sue someone like me, who was already drowning. This is why I very carefully choose who I trust in the real estate business, and the TOM FERRY ORGANIZATION IS ONE NOT TO TRUST.


But going back to those nightmarish years, I was losing my home and had to live in a motel for a while until I got through my bankruptcy and began over again, I began to reassess the meaning of life and purpose, of significance, and so on, but this came very slowly… try: 10 years. I had ups and downs, distractions, bypasses, forks in the rooads, so many upheavels, it is too painful even to remember, but i have to, because remembering all this has brought me to a place, but we’ll get to that.


I claimed that for ten years I was in Moses’ desert, groping, feeling devastated and disillusioned. I burned out, lost what little self-esteem I had left, felt incurably angry all the time, experienced the worst self-hatred, depression, whatever you can think of to name, I went through all of it. I drank too much, smoked too much, and sat in front of the television watching movies that helped make me cry, because that was all I was doing anyway.

It was as if I had stuck my head (metaphorically speaking) in the sand like an ostrich, pretending nothing was happening, but my life was a trip to hell. It brought me to where I am now: physically ill.

It seems today, my mind is trying to get up, but my body keeps pulling me back down. I watched a number of videos today, because I could not walk; I have these bouts of pain that cripples me for a couple days, then I (hopefully) bounce back after rest.

Anyway, I watched these videos, and I think I sometimes watch them because I am looking for help and hope. There are times when I reach anxiety levels that drive me to fear in high gear.  Homeless has always been one of my fears, since I came from acute poverty as a child.

Getting older, and/or getting sick, is a fact of life. But being prepared for getting older and getting sick, is a choice in life. Consequences reflect one’s choices. This is part One of many reflections to come, I’m sure.  For now though, let me start my series here, by showing you one of those videos I watched today while I was recuperating.

This is what I was obsessing with today, because I am in constant need of help with my pets and household chores, and simultaneously trying to work from home. Whenever I get into these “scrapes” of health deterioration, I get desperate to find help emotionally. I think because I feel a lot of guilt for my illness, and my husband who is healthy seems agitated with me having to ask him for help.


What is Epiphany?


On occasion, I have epiphanies. I had one recently. To me, this is a natural progression of either the intellect, or spirit—but, however one wishes to see it.


Epiphanies occur when growth is knocking on one’s consciousness, but you must open the door, or you’ll miss it. This is becoming more and more evident to me that as I have these epiphanies, a gradual or sudden change pursues thereafter, mainly in my awareness.


This may seem trivial to some, or it can be substantial, depending upon the change, and the person. I imagine this happens to most people, if they are self-aware. I welcome this progression as enhancing my thoughts, emotions, and intellect, to a new level of awareness.


To get back to the point, the last major epiphany occurred during the last couple of years. Yes, there are levels, and the higher ones come less frequent; many little ones happen to us daily.


Anyway, I had been arguing a lot with my husband, whom I was sure was having an affair. I accused him of this in fact, so many times, it’s embarrassing to me at this point. But something was lacking terribly in our marriage. The romance had gone out of it, and there were no other similar interests as we once had.


If he was having an affair, there was not anything I could do about it. I had lost all my financial means during the 2008 economic downturn, having a bankruptcy tagged to me now. Nonetheless, the marriage issue was no longer the issue.

I had been analyzing myself deeply due to this lack of affection I was experiencing. I had been observing everything I would say, everything I would do, and in my mind I questioned myself like a therapist: ‘why did you say that?’ or  ‘why did you do that?’ or ‘do you think maybe what you just said (or did) might be the reason for his negative responses?” or “Perhaps you have given him enough ammunition about your neuroses that he is unable to come nearer to you anymore…?”

In psychological terms this kind of self-analysis is a part of the strategies we teach students and people in therapy, to activate metacognitive strategies, hence, the journal, narratives about oneself, diaries, etc.

I went about on a discussion of the matter, to myself, of course–for months. I wanted to leave him, but my anxiety to leave and find myself homeless was much greater than my anxiety to live with a man who is legally bound to me, yet unmoved by my existence. In truth, I am much too old now for leaving. And for a while there, I was becoming despondent, and felt like I would not live very much longer.

Curiously, I seemed to be falling into love with my husband again, and more and more. However, I think it was a last ditch in my own mind, for I obsess over what I cannot have. It has to do with being neglected as a child, hence, the need for hoarding, in case I find myself once again, alone, and uncared for.

But our marriage is not at all what this write is about. It is about the epiphany that was brought about due to the distress encountered in ordeal about my marriage.

If I may make an observation here, distress or desperation sometimes can be a godsend, leading to an epiphany, if one has exercised metacognitive habits already. An epiphany may actually help get you out of a rut. And so it was for me, though it may sometimes be very painful, I became elevated by the epiphany, which made it all worth the pain.

Now, therefore, you ask: “What was that epiphany of which you speak,” because of yet, I’ve not actually told you anything about the actual epiphany.

Henceforth, I began to wonder about our relationship, especially wondering if all relationships go through a period, after having been married for so long, that a spouse just stops loving their significant other, or just loves differently; like loving their partner as they do a pet.

The spouse may still feel the lustful feelings occasionally, mostly from seeing others who are desirable to look at, or some funky show on television. But the spouses have been through so much together, that they feel bonded beyond the norm, such as a deep friendship, or as a parent and child.

Marriage has its own bonding phenomena, and it grows stronger the longer spouses are married. Further, the more obstacles over which they have survived, they become even more bonded.

But what really made me think about all this, is the fact that, many people I know who have been married for many years, fall into one of two categories: one, they live separate lives, in which case one may thrive, the other may die, or they may both thrive, having other interests–including affairs; or they may both be miserable and both die younger than expected.

Another occurrence may be that they could be separated for a long while, having many things happen to each in their own sphere, similarly to the first analysis,  (affairs, ills, etc.), only perhaps in this case, it is a professional or venture event, and then, they come to value each other more deeply and become very close whether they are romantically involved or not, and remain together for the rest of their lives.

I believe my husband and I were experiencing a change in marriage, but did not know how to deal with it, and unfortunately it took its toll on my health. I have met so many who have been in various groups of ill progression due to marital confusion or disillusion. Most of the times, the women die off: sad, depressed, emotionally vacant, then ill, then death. Or if it is the man, it would be because the woman has found herself having been left to herself, and has evolved as an independent person, having a wonderful time with others, and now it is he who is left out: sad, depressed, emotionally vacant, then ill, then death. Either way, it is a sad scene.

I was heading that way, when this epiphany came. This is what it was. I have always believed in God, yet I felt God was distant to me in this situation. Finally, I began to wonder how God sometimes does not speak or make a sound, but may use circumstances to get at a weakness in someone. I believe this is what  happened to me. I realized the weakness was my sense of victimization.


I realized that even though it was true, I was a child that was neglected, it was an experience that could be turned around for good. If I am left alone, I must learn to love myself. What better way to learn to love yourself than in a situation where you are alone, whether you are alone in reality, or emotionally. So I began to teach myself how to be alone. Now I am learning to cope with our differences, making ways for me to find other interests aside from venturing out and doing stupid things, like affairs and such.


When I sense that old feeling of abandonment, I read more and lie down, take care of myself, drink more water, or a cup of coffee (never did that before), and sometimes even treat myself to ice-cream, or a glass of wine, and read, or write. It has always been hard for me to reach out to anyone when I am in emotional pain. I purposely do so now, especially when I sense that old feeling of loss and abandonment.

I have come to accept those things I used to complain about, in my husband. He is who he is, and I have come to respect who he is, AS he is. Where I complained of his weaknesses, I have learned to strengthen my own in those areas, so that I can keep myself company in such areas, times, and situations. His strong points are still strong points, and so I am able to focus on those points, which makes me look at him more positively. I feel proud that I am part of him, and whether or not he feels the same, I do not care: I know I am a good part of him.


In that small change, I have begun to love him more, without being clingy, and this has changed me for the better: I am less sad and depressed, I am becoming emotionally independent, I am less ill, and I feel I may just live a long time, after all. Thanks to mind blowing epiphanies. I hope to have more, about which to write.



The Heart of Poetry

It is interesting to me how so many people write, whether in private, never sharing their writings, or publicly, not to publish but just to tell out loud how one feels about certain things in their lives. What is it about the act of writing? More to the point, what is it about the act of poetry? Poetry is trying to describe emotions, events, things that have affected either you or me or someone we know, and putting the emotional response in a format that is pleasant to the eye and heart. Thus, we might say that Poetry is a writing of the heart, or that Poetry has a heart.



Many people see my poems as though I am a depressed person, writing about misery. I am a reality poet writing about reality for the population of our world that many call: the have-nots. It’s unfortunate that we do not have a balance in the world, and if I say so, I will be accused of advocating communism. Nothing is further from the truth. Communism, human style, is no better than Capitalism, Socialism, Nativism, Futalism, Anarchism, any-ism one chooses. Once an -ism takes power it always becomes lop-sided anyway: those that have and those that have not. Because not everyone on the playing field has the rules, and if the rules ARE available, it may not be in the layman’s language–well, we must remember: we all have a way of communicating, and it is not the same for everyone.


Therefore, all -isms are flawed with humanity’s compunction toward greed and self-aggrandizement. This is why I write the poetry I write, not to advocate an -ism, but rather to make people a little more compassionate and empathetic toward those who may not be as fortunate as what we call: the haves.




So. Bear with me, and open your heart to what I write, it will be good for us all… it especially heals my own wounded soul. Yes, I have a wounded soul, and I believe everyone does too, for if we really delve into it, we will find some hurts here and there, in some past even, or by someone who was careless with our hearts. It does not mean we give up or die physically or instantly, but we all die a little inside when something goes wrong, and some of those things leave scars. EVERYONE has little wounds and scars in their souls, truth be told. If I were to advocate anything it might be a form of Communism, but nothing like that of human making.


I’ve heard people say that Jesus was a Communist. Jesus was Jesus. To my belief the Son of God, which makes him God in Human form, was on earth but without the pitfalls in  his character. For God overcomes the humanity in us. Make no mistake: humanity is seriously flawed, but we are also witnesses to a perfect being who walked the earth once, who advocated sharing everything equally,  living moderately, and helping the weaker brother as well as those who were suffering set-backs, in health or otherwise. There is so much value and wisdom in the Bible, not so we can follow literally without thought, as are rituals. But the Bible is a book that, if read wholly like any other book, teaches us to gather a whole picture of who God is.


Anyway, not meaning to get off on another direction and subject in this posting. it’s the poetry I wanted to talk about. Poetry is a language of emotions, don’t let anyone tell you it is not; it is. And when you read it, it does not necessarily have to make sense for you to feel emotion about it. You are meant to feel the heart of Poetry, not the mind of it… but the Heart.

 Robert Frost, Poet Lareate

Hyper-Sensitive Personality

Today, a Face book friend of mine named T. R Bell, posted something that ignited a great big question that has been in my brain for a very long time. Let me explain what she posted. Here is the post:


         “If it were possible to gather all your Facebook friends in a bar, who would you gravitate to first?” Sounds like an innocent, simple enough question. Here was my answer:


         “Definitely, my son first (he’s a bartender!). Then my other son, (I just want him there!). Then, Jim (my bodyguard and husband, haha!). And Finally, EVERYONE else on my list of 2,264 friends… I want to meet them ALL!!!
Oh! And especially all the writers: I want them at my table, “Reserved for WRITERS” so we can brainstorm about our Art.”


       Simple enough interaction. Why is this exchange so valuable you ask? Because it made me realize something about myself. First, note: she did not ask me who I would want to have come to the bar and interact with me, but who I would gravitate to first. In my mind, I imagined all these people strolling into a bar, never even registering the last part of the sentence, “who would you gravitate to first?” I was too busy getting excited about all the 2,266 friends I have on Face book, coming to hang out with me!

(Frankly, I would probably freak out if I really had people wanting to hang out with ME!)

       As I read other answers, and thought about them, it struck me. I never consider myself as gravitating from one to another, because for me, I saw the whole experience as a pleasure of being inside of the whole group at the same time, with everyone mingling, chatting, laughing, etc. all at the same time, with me, and with each other! This made me feel a part of everyone else.

       When the imagery of that moment ran through my head I sighed. I saw it clearly: I am so terribly lonely that I want to just be surrounded by lots of people that know my name and I know them right back!

       But it isn’t enough to want to be in a place and hear the song where everybody knows your name chanted. I realized that the biggest problem in my life has always been that I am lonely even if I DID have people all around me that knew me and I knew them. The reality is that I have been suffering acutely with the idea of being alone deep inside me, for all my life.

      Since I have always been a curious nature since a child as well, I look at everything in a clinical way, too. Thus, I needed to explore that reality due to the fact that it hit me as an epiphany.


       I realized that I am an acutely lonely personality and have been all my life since I was a child. I felt different than my siblings. They all could get along in the world fine, or at least it seemed, since each of them managed a consistent career. I was the only one that floundered around throughout my life, and found myself being led by others into different pursuits, and I never actually took a decisive action for my own life’s direction. I was the only one that pursued education in my family to a much higher level, all the while, taking orders, following everyone else in their own endeavors, doing paper work that achieved a certain steady flow of grading, and acquiring a certain level of approval in the form of grades and awards. All the while I was seeking after acceptance and approval—which is what I lacked all my life—I was also racking up terrible school loans and never worried that it would come back on me, for I was sure I would be accepted immediately into the teaching field. After over 200 applications and a few interviews, I became disillusioned…and job-less.


       I then began to wonder why I had such a deep sense of loneliness. Sure, everyone may say they are lonely or feel lonely once in awhile. But I realized that this loneliness I felt was a perpetual feeling I had been saddled with for my entire life, it did not matter how many degrees I acquired, nor how many awards, group memberships, or people surrounding me in a bar; I always felt that terrible loneliness, and I am positive there are others like me who have either realized this and don’t know what to do about it, or they have not realized the gravity of this concept. I began going over as many memories as I could muster, to gather evidence and to make an assessment and create a question that would take me into a journey in the discovery of my own true loneliness.

Is there a set of components that can trigger or allay such a perpetual emotional limitation? And if so, can it be recognized and changed in time?

       I have come up with memories that makes me see the kind of child I was. During my youth, I was told in school that I was an exceptional little girl, brighter than the average child. In those days, there were no gifted programs or 2e programs, or learning handicap examinations; at least, not in my school. It was only a counselor that tell parents “better do something with this child.” If parents did nothing, the child’s talents were never discovered, and if parents knew not how to deal with such a matter, the child gravitated to cultural cues, in my case: what was expected of a girl in the poor economic community in the early 60s; I got married and had babies.

       I graduated at the age of 16. In high school my counselor warned my mother that I was highly intelligent, but did not seem motivated, nor did I apply myself to anything. The only thing I did apply myself to, was drawing, acting out, and singing. Everything else was met by my clowning.

       I was depressed even back in my childhood, as I could remember looking out the window crying, and waiting for some thing or one to come and get me. How odd. It seemed I was waiting for someone like me to make me feel less alone. I never found that person, because that person was ME. The ME I should have been. After failed marriages, I can truly say, my loneliness is most likely irreparable. The only thing necessary is to accept it, understand it, and write about it, which is what I am doing. I am hoping to help younger others like me, find that someone who is like them, in themselves.


       I have come to the conclusion that psychological researchers today have begun searching the answer to my situation. I think it has become noted due to so many suicides in our culture and country.

      I believe it has to do with my being a Hyper-Sensitive Personality (Dr. Elaine N. Aron, The Highly Sensitive Person. (1996, 1998).), and I have needed much more support as a child than most. But, my senses were stunted and took me a long time to grow up emotionally, for the reason of being fairly neglected, since no one really ever tried finding out what was going on inside me; I had five siblings, and I was the youngest.

       Now that I have realized how HSP affects everything in my life relationships, I am slowly reaching the level of assertion to process and utilize what needs I may discover for growth and health. This should have happened a long time ago, of course. But if it did not, it stunts one’s ability to FEEL the love of others later on in life, and creates a perpetual need of love and affection. Don’t worry, it all sounds like mumbo-jumbo, but I’m writing about it. I THINK it has to do with touch, attention, authentic interaction as children, but not only physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. If a child is not given the proper stimulation from parents, that child will ALWAYS feel lonely no matter the environment throughout life. The trick is to recognize it, and create the prosthetic to not only survive but thrive in spite of it. I hope to change that loneliness feeling for many lonely people through my writing, and I hope to spur medical and psychological research further in regards to this topic of HSP (Hyper-Sensitive Personality).





Christmas thoughts…


© Lydia Nolan


The Little Drummer boy stands ready to play, as the three lords of lands pursue the star,

And the manger is dirty and splattered with dung, yet the Savior is humbly unmarred—

Only a Savior of men and women and children could be so undistracted by triviality

Only a Savior of people who long for truth, purpose, and love so desperately—


Has come to give the Love of God, born into a world of chaos, cruelty and barbarism,

Knowing that his message of love would ignite the hate and send Him to destruction—


Yet God saw that we needed a way out of our own dark paths of hopelessness,

So He gave us His Son to help our journey back into eternal bliss…


 So, I wondered how someone like me, with hateful, angry, or vengeful propensities,

Could find inside me: Love, kindness, a good word, and pursue the possibilities—


Of being like Him: that Love, and if I failed I reckoned God to save me,

And I remember God did! In that dirty, darkened manger—where I was set free—


And that night I slept as the babe, in a manger long ago,

For I was at peace with the Love He gave me, that I could give also,


Merry, Merry, oh, we merry ladies and men!

Christmas has given us the greatest gift of all,


That God, Himself has made a way to touch us;

That God is Love, and Love was born on Christmas.

 lamb_of_god_christian_religious_posters-rf53a0250887549e58866f90334842389_wvg_8byvr_512        images-2          e738bfd81db547889220d626341f93a9



What makes a man or a woman become…mature? And is there any such thing as spiritual maturity? We hardly think in those terms these days.

How does a child become a woman, or become a man? Are we talking about a physical appearance: years of living? Height? Having a job, career, or profession? Getting married? Having a family? All of those things are are merely symptoms of becoming a man or woman, but what makes a woman or a man become a woman or a man?

When I was a young girl, my parents may have shared with me how to “grow up” and be a decent woman, but what does that mean to a child? How does a young child, or teen-ager, or even a young adult understand the concept of “putting away childish things, and becoming a ‘grown-up’ man or woman?” I will give you a hint: it has to do with changes in one’s life, apart from being the child one is, and having the ability to realize the comparison to what a parent taught, and what the child is experiencing.

Suddenly, a choice is at hand, and it’s up to that “child” to make decisions. But that alone isn’t enough. That ‘child,’ becoming, has to experience the consequences of the decisions made, otherwise she or he has missed a “learning” that would lead one closer to maturity.I remember an experience and a choice I had once.

The first choice I remember having was a response I made to a traumatic experience with a babysitter who held my hands under a faucet and burned them. Her two twin sons also abused me. My mother could not understand why I screamed and begged and cried when she took me to be cared for by this woman, as my mother had to work.

I was only two years old, but I was trying to make a stand here, and I had consequences for my choosing: I was there only two days, and my mother–God bless her–decided to stop taking me to that woman. So my response reaped good consequences. I don’t know if it reaped good consequences for my mother, as I do not remember from that point where I went, but since I don’t have a memory of it, I assume it was pleasant enough. So I learned something that day, but it would take more than once for me to compare, analyze and make sense of it. I was two years old, for goodness sakes.

If you have ever considered the choices or responses you  made in all sorts of situations and circumstances: being abused, running away, stealing, having friends that were cruel, being cruel yourself! Even having children, marriage, taking a certain job, going out with various groups of people, studying for a test or copying someone else’s… all these things have built-in choices to which we are prone to respond and act accordingly. All these things have consequences. Maybe you haven’t grown mature enough to recognize them, but they do have consequences.

Some people especially, have to have major life-changing consequences for them to recognize the choices that brought these people to that point. Sometimes, it’s not even your choice but someone else’s and it affects your life. NOW, you have a choice. If bitterness or resentment or un-forgiveness has been your response for a choice, you haven’t yet understood the consequences are directly related to your choices. So now, everything that happens afterward are colored by the choice of perception you made by that traumatic event. That is to say, that even the worst consequences that seem like you had nothing to do with, are somehow tied to your responses, and if you think not, then they are tied to your perceptions now.

If you cannot believe me here, maybe you’ve got some more maturity to get to, before believing me. I know there is a lot more growth I have to do too, but I’ve done some and acquired maturity just from the major consequences I’ve experienced through my choices and decisions in certain things. Some of them will never get better because I was immature at the time, to make the right choices. I’ve learned a lot from my mistakes, is that easier to comprehend?

Why else do you think Jesus said, when he was being abused, tortured, and slowly killed: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”  It is obvious he knew those who had fear in their hearts, so much so that they would make irrational choices and decisions.  He knew the hearts and minds of those who made authoritative and created ways to silence people they feared. Jesus knew they did not have the spiritual maturity to understand their own fears and hatreds … today we might call it racism, bigotry, or something like that, but even those like that should be understood and given empathy and compassion.

Why else do you think that Jesus came. He also knew humans are reflective and create recordation of their history, their feats, and even their failures. Sooner or later, we’d all get it. Now that’s the kind of maturity I want–that’s the only kind that will make this a better world. I think the whole purpose for this kind of maturity is to teach us empathy and compassion so that we can have that same kind of empathy and compassion Jesus displayed while being brutally murdered by by frightened, self-aggrandizing immature souls.

FATHER, forgive us… we sometimes don’t realize what we’re doing.

Alice Lives here still…

 Does Alice in Wonderland apply to Adults?


 The answer? A resounding YES.

         Why is it that the entire massive educated world assumes that the number of years one lives is the correct depiction of one’s maturity level? That is not true. We all are listening to different drummers, detect varied rhythms, have ear for syncopation or not, construe meaning from various beats and pauses. Of course I’m speaking in metaphor, and everyone knows every person has different experiences in childhood that determines what kind of adult one may be or will be.

         This is why the story “Alice in Wonderland” is so meaningful and transcends generations. It speaks to the evolution from childhood to adulthood, and the many pitfalls, as well as benefits one may or may not choose, see, or stumble upon.


         The Hippie generation would like to say it is all about drugs, but that is not true. It may be their drummer they listened to at that time, but it’s much more than drugs or any particular component in one’s zeitgeist, that appeals only to their personal subjective experience. Alice in Wonderland is an objective, albeit romanticized to some extent, but objective perspective, nonetheless.

         Every human being, in every generation since the beginning of recorded history goes through a progressive evolution that changes their character, their personal perspective and view of life, their personality strengths or weaknesses, their understanding of others. Every aspect of their being in some way or another, changes. And if they do not follow the timeline as educational scientists like Piaget established in the educational forum, it is because they are speaking of cognitive development only, which does not work exclusively from emotional growth. This needs more research, but is considered so minutely significant, that it would take someone like me to research, develop and write about it, which is why I’m initiating this discussion here. If the emotional aspect of human beings is not included in the cognitive component, the cognitive timeline does not work.

         Thus, the discussion here is about the progressive timeline of a person’s natural growth, but not just the physical and the cognitive, but also the emotional. There must be a reason why we were made with all of these components, and I think they lead to the spiritual realm as well, but scientists definitely know absolutely nothing of the abstract world, nor are they interested. This is why I have not such a great respect and awe for science as many proclaim to have absolutely. Science is good yes, but so is the side unseen, which is necessary to the whole development of the human being.



“Alice is engaged in a romance quest for her own identity and growth, for some understanding of logic, rules, the games people play, authority, time, and death.” 

Eds. Charles Frey and John Griffin


Blog Written by: Lydia Nolan, M. Ed., English