Again.

The other night during the news there was an announcement for a rerun of the interview done with the Madoff family. I looked at my husband, the question in my face.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“They interviewed the Madoff family???” I asked anyway. Sometimes you can’t help these things. It’s like an emotional Tourette’s.

In any case, I came to learn that recently there was a flurry of media activity related to the release of two new books by Madoff family members.

ABC aired the first Madoff family member interview on October 21, when Mack, the widow of Bernie’s son, Mark, appeared on 20/20. The show scored its best ratings since February 2010, with 7.6 million viewers overall. Surely not coincidentally, The End of Normal, published by Blue Rider Press and another book, Truth and Consequences: Life Inside the Madoff Family, hit bookstores in October.

Now, while it delivered wonderfully high ratings for the media, it did little to inspire book sales.

I’m not surprised by the fact that fewer than expected sales were reported. Who wants to give the Madoffs any more money than they already stole?

But I am—though I shouldn’t be—surprised by the fact that ABC and CBS both took a huge amount of time (and money) with these moguls of misfortune, these scoundrels who are now bleating poverty and victimization.

Why is anyone listening to them?

Why is anyone paying them a dime for their opinions when they haven’t paid a dime in compensation to their victims?

Worse, yet, why are we watching them? Not just once, but in reruns.

It seemed to me to be a form of bizarre cultural rubbernecking, not much different than what we do with car wrecks; a minor fender bender off to the side of the road can cause a ten-mile back up on a major freeway even though all the lanes are actually open. The jam is only because we slow down to look: Is there any blood? Any bodies? Despite all the anatomically correct horror shows on TV (CSI, Bones, Criminal Minds), we can’t seem to get enough of it. We want to see all the bad and awful things that people do.

This is even more pointedly true with famous people. There’s nothing the media or the media generation likes more than watching the crash and burn of a wealthy celebrity. Hence the inordinate amount of attention given to the slow, sublimating near-death experience of one Charlie Sheen. He even had live video to capture his expected demise from alcohol, drugs, and sex addiction and to disperse his rants about being dumped from Two and a Half Men all over cyber-land.

And, as far as I could tell, everyone was watching. It was amazing, but they were watching themselves watch him. And the media talked about it as if it were as important as the impending collapses in Greece and Europe, the epidemics and violence in Africa, or the economic issues in this country. If we measured importance in terms of airplay, I think Charlie won.

What does that say about us?

I am loath to consider the implications.

Because, in my experience, what we look at tends to reflect what we are. What we choose to do tends to be an expression of who we are.

Which says we, like Sheen, are on a slippery slope towards self-indulgent suicide. We, like the cyber-voyeurs who wait for the shape-shifting demise, are caught up in our own “near-life” experience. We, like the Madoffs, are prone to expect something extraordinary for nothing. We too are entitled. We too want our 15 minutes of fame, sometimes at the expense of our good names, even our souls. It may be more a matter of degree than essence.

Not because I am immune to any of the above or because I don’t sneak a peak at traffic accidents, but because I had a momentary lapse of sanity, I turned the TV off and left the Madoffs to their new book-sale travails and to their lonesomes. In fact, the more lonesome the better.

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74 JEMS OCTOBER 2011
BOOK REVIEW
It’s probably quite easy to recall an injury or sickness that occurred during your childhood,
but did you know that the first words you heard after the event played an
invaluable role in how well you would manage the situation, heal and subsequently deal
with similar events in the future?
Derived from current medical research, Verbal First Aid demonstrates how the words
a caregiver chooses to say when a child is sick or in pain will cause chemical responses
to travel through the child’s body and either help or hinder the healing process, as well
as set the course for their physical and emotional recovery.
Techniques provided through descriptive scenarios teach the reader how to empower
children to actively participate in their own healing, conquer their fears and turn seemingly
tragic events into an accepted part of life.
Easy to read and compassionately presented, Verbal First Aid announces revolutionary
non-pharmaceutical healing that can be used anywhere at any time. This book is perfect
for healthcare providers, teachers and parents. It provides the key that can unlock
a child’s inner strength in any situation, thus promoting a healthy and happy life.

JEMS—By Natalie Harris BHSc, AEMCA

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I'd never met the man before and we were having a pleasant conversation. We were talking about wines, then about where we lived and where we'd been. He'd spent a lot of time in the southwest, where I had lived for a while. He said he visited several times a year to study with a guru whose name was utterly unpronounceable and unrecognizable. I told him I’d never heard of his teacher, and he said, “Oh, he’s world famous.”

He asked me why we had moved back to NY and I simply said "family." He looked at me quizzically. I explained we had aging parents and felt the need to be with them. While sometimes challenging and other times cumbersome, it has not been a personal or emotional burden. Both my husband and I feel that it is a gift and a blessing to be able to do this and share what will be their last years on earth. It has not been easy, but it has been right and often joyful.

So, suffice it to say that I did not whine, grumble, or pout while I was talking to him. I felt neither needy nor resentful as I described the situation. However, without a second between sentences, he waved his hand, "Oh, you need to detach from all that. I left everyone I know in Europe and I don't think of them at all."

He said this as if it were a model of good behavior, an example for all, particularly me, to follow. I believe he meant well, but I was taken aback.

A bit of  history: For much of my early life, detachment  was precisely what I needed. I had to learn to see where I began and ended and other people began and ended. I needed to learn what it was I truly longed for and what was the contrivance of a frightened heart. I needed to let go of expectations and deal with what was true about both people and circumstances. In concrete terms this meant I had to stop trying to control others. It is an ongoing lesson, no doubt. But, over the years and with increasing faith in God, I get better at it. For me, letting go has only been possible because I've been able to hand the reins over to Some One I believe is better at it than I believe I am. That's how I have learned to accept the circumstances I cannot change, deal with the loves that have been lost, and allow for the sorrows I cannot soothe.

So the idea of detachment–and its importance in healthy relationships–is not new to me. But his idea of it was, which was to use it as a weapon of self-negation so that feeling, love, and attachment to others in any fashion was unfashionable in that it revealed a gross psychological immaturity.

Is that true? Should we detach in order to feel nothing for friends, family, beloveds who are not with us? Should we cut ourselves off from longing of any kind? Should we exorcise our hearts so we can be more “spiritual?”

Since this encounter I have broached this topic with numerous people whose spiritual stances I particularly respect for their erudition and grounding: a Buddhist, an Orthodox priest, a Hasidic housewife, a Catholic theologian.

I half-expected my Buddhist colleague to agree with my friend at the wine store. But he said, “No, people who say that don’t understand what Buddha meant. We are meant to deeply feel each moment, not to use our minds as weapons against ourselves. We are called on to feel sorrow and joy fully, to be fully.” Detachment, as he explained it, was a way to see what was true about self and other.

The Orthodox priest had an interesting take on it and agreed that we are asked to feel for others, look to help, and love; that, indeed love was the greatest and highest calling. However, he added, “We are also told to be in the world, but not of it. We are born into a fallen world. And expecting it to be other than it is, is foolish and makes us ineffective. When you know you are in a pig sty, why do you get surprised when you get dirty? You’re in a pig sty. It’s a mess.”

Contrary to my new friend’s call to detach, as I grow older I find myself more surefooted in my commitment to be available, to respond when needed, and to love while I have the chance. As I see it, there may be many flaws in trying to control, but there is no failure in love.

But I continued to pursue the thoughts of others on the topic.

When I asked my husband what he thought about detachment, he admitted he found it hard. “Especially,” he added, “when it comes to what other people think and how they feel. I always want everyone to be happy. I want to like everyone and everyone to like me.”

I brought it to my mother, who in typically no-nonsense fashion, said, “What do you mean by detachment? You mean to let go? Well, then, seems to me you want to detach from evil, but not from good. It’s a matter of choice, isn’t it?”

All this left me with more questions than I’d started with, and certainly more than I bargained for when I went in to buy a bottle of wine.

What should we detach from or attach to?
Does love mean attachment? Are they distinct?
What about the desire to love (as a verb, not as a fuzzy feeling) and make others happy? Should my husband have not bought me flowers the other day because he knew they would delight me? Should he have detached enough to not care how I felt?

We know that control and manipulation and heartache are the results of a failure to detach when that is what is necessary, but what happens without any attachment whatsoever?

In my experience, the failure to attach is like a house built without struts or support beams. There is no connective tissue and the organism eventually fragments, falls apart. We see this in abandoned or severely abused children who are left to their own devices far too early. Without anyone to depend on—to attach to, they become like leaves loosed in a gust of wind. They have no sense of who they are, how they feel, or how to deal with those feelings as they arise. They are socially utterly lost. As a result, what they wind up feeling most of the time is a blend of rage and panic. Anyone who’s worked with these children comes to understand, if only viscerally, the utter necessity of attachment in order to live. This is not limited to humans. It has been shown to be equally as important in other animals, particularly primates.

The problem, of course, is that attachment—even a healthy one—comes with a price tag. When we lose the one to whom we are attached, or the thing (a house, a sentimental picture, a job), we lose a part of ourselves and we grieve. We feel pain. Sometimes the pain is so great that we are forever altered, our lives a limping replica of what they once were. This phenomenon is not limited to humans, either. We see evidence of exquisite attachment and wrenching grief in primates, dogs, sea lions, dolphins, whales, elephants, and geese. Attachment–at some level–seems to be universal.

I think I know what the fellow at the wine store was trying to say to me—that he has learned how to avoid that pain. He was saying that he had become self-aware as a spirit who was temporarily occupying a body, that he had successfully conquered his fears, vanquished his needs as the irrelevant yearnings of a feeble psyche, become part of small club of humans who have surpassed their own humanity.

Foible or fortune, for today I remain rather human.

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Judith,

Although the car accident was awhile ago; I can still remember how well she was able to focus toward me, as well as listen and follow what I was telling her to do. I am always amazed at two things during stressful times:

First:  So many people can mill around an injured person and not offer help, or be unwilling or afraid to help.

And second:  Words are powerful and simple, and if more people realized how much they CAN help; they probably would be more willing TO help.

Marty Reger, Physical Therapist Assistant

Kindred Hospital, Albuquerque and Santa Fe

I thought that last piece was particularly memorable:  "If more people realized how much they CAN help, they probably would be more willing TO help."

Right on the money, Marty.

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I welcome comments on his story. It begs a discussion.

I took my 5-year old son out to play soccer, 1 on 1, father and son. After letting him score a few times I thought, 'Shall I let him win for his self-esteem? No, too easy, and would ruin his Oedipal drive,' I concluded. So I scored the winning goal, upon which he threw a massive fit. Rolled on the ground, cried hysterical­ly, screamed, etc. Parents watching, me incredulou­s, slightly guilt-ridd­en.

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Actually, I just re-read this book, which I first read in 2005 for job-related purposes. Re-reading it for practical, daily purposes enriched it for me. I love this book.

I have this childhood story that I carry around about my sister getting her finger caught in the blender. Out of 3 family members watching, one started screaming, one started running up and down the stairs and my other sister unplugged the machine. Yes, we were all young, but our initial responses to an event say a lot about our reactions to situations and carry forward in life. Have you felt you heart rate go up, or flushed in the face, or that you are holding your breath in reaction to someone's verbal aggressiveness? All of these reactions are embodied and affect our health on all levels. That is the basic premise of this book. While it systematically addresses situations of first aid, caregiving and even dying and how our choice of words directly influences the situation, it is excellent for use in our daily lives. So, the next time I am panicking about a situation, I'm going to recite to myself that the worst is already over.

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Verbal First Aid and Homeopathy

By

Judith Acosta, LISW

I recently listened to a CD of a world-renowned homeopath taking a case. Even though I was not in the room with her, I felt her compassion. She asked questions gently but probingly, she was never judgmental, she shared moments of good humor and made it clear by her tone and phrasing that she understood her patient’s suffering. She was available for his questions and answered them with an eye towards educating and healing him.

Listening to her, I recalled the first time I went to a homeopath, also very well known. His manner was quite different: cool, clinical, terse, impatient. He gave the impression that he wanted me to give him answers so he could find the remedy and be done with it. I was brand new to homeopathy and didn’t understand what to expect from  our first meeting, not to mention the treatment. He gave me absolutely no information and would not tell me what remedy he gave me, which is especially unnerving to someone used to the world of conventional medicine. When I called a week later, worried that some of my complaints had gotten worse (this turned out to be an "aggravation," a temporary worsening of symptoms that actually signals that the remedy is working), he said, “Well, if you want to ruin it with antibiotics, I can’t stop you.”

When I compared notes with others who knew this homeopath they told me, “Don't worry, he's like that with everybody. He thinks that if he gives too much information or gets too chummy, he’ll be unduly affecting the course of treatment. He just wants to see what the homeopathic remedy is doing all by itself."
I encourage you to get the archived edition on the Homeopathy Today website.

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The reason I've done this is because of what I've seen in my psychotherapy practice–people who are afraid, truly afraid, and look to all sorts of products to make them feel better: breast implants (so they feel younger and aren't so afraid of losing their luster or facing their mortality), viagra (so they feel more virile and aren't so afraid of the normal aging process), more and more insurance (so they're supposedly protected against everything the insurance companies can make them afraid of).

I will be releasing a host of new articles on this topic–how the culture and particularly the media perpetuate needless, pervasive and viral fear and, not only what this does to us, but what we can do about it!

As they say, stay tuned.

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This is neither a good nor a bad thing in and of itself. It reflects changes in our culture and in our collective consciousness. It tells history what we hold to be of importance and what we disdain.

Texting, instant messaging, and cyber-signing communication has certainly had an effect on what we are willing to say, how much energy we are likely to expend in order to make sure we are understood and that our thoughts are clearly defined, and how much time we are willing to spend to make sure we understand others. Even though I have no empirical data to support me, I am sure beyond any reasonable doubt that the effect has not been good–that is, if you value understanding, accuracy, and resolution.

The underlying truth is this: what we say and how we say it is a reflection of what we value.

Let's start some more modern definitions of the word "dating." I have worked with clients who thought texting was what I meant by "dating." Not only their understanding of the word has changed, but their values and expectations are almost unrecognizable to only one or two generations before them. To them, texting and exchanging some identifying data on facebook (favorite color, vacation spots, scantily clad pictures) was enough to warrant a "hook-up" on a Saturday night. To those who came before, dating meant a period of time in which two people spent enough time together to know if there was enough compatibility for a marriage or not.

I admit that the word has not yet changed…but it will. It's only a matter of time because the value has already been altered.

Here's another thing about this subtle alteration: Most of the people I know under 25 have less to say than Marcel Marceau. Not because they're not bright or not thinking. In their cases, their certainly bright enough. It just takes too much out of them. Too much time, too much energy, and too much commitment.

So what this insta-code linguistic is reflecting is a lack of interest in face-to-face, mind-to-mind intimacy and a social-emotional lethargy that runs deep. After I asked one client who was "seeing" someone online how she expected to get to know him, she said, "What's to get to know?" She was sincere. I was frightened for her.

If what I'm suggesting is true, then the words that become extinct  reflect a trend that should concern all of us.

When was the last time you heard the word "fidelity" in ordinary conversation outside of a music store? Or the last time someone spoke of "devotion" outside of a church? Or "honor" outside the military?

An example: A woman I know has spent twenty years or more with a man who is deeply disturbed. He cycles up and down, in and out of psychotic episodes and has been hospitalized more times than she can recall. When he's stabilized by meds, she says he's the most wonderful man she's ever known. When he's lost his way and his mind, he has put them into financial ruin, made her do the work of three people and then some, and live without sleep to keep an eye on him for days at a time.

She said the other day, "Everyone tells me to leave him. Even his mother said to me, 'I don't know why you stay.'" So I asked her, "Why do you?" And she said as clear and constant as a call to worship, "Because I love him. I'm devoted to him. He's my husband."

Imagine that.

In this day and age, when leaving is as easy as booking a flight and filing pro se divorce papers, when all the odds are stacked against marriage and devotion is called codependent, she stayed.

The other day, my sister sent me a message on Facebook. At the end she included a face with a "P" at the bottom. At least that was what it looked like to me. After two days I went back to it and finally "got" that she was sticking her tongue out at me!  It made me laugh until I realized that I am living in a world where I don't speak the language anymore and I'm not sure whether to keep laughing or start crying.

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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/judith-acosta-lisw-cht/limit-setting-and-parenti_b_682565.html

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