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What does forgiveness mean to you?

9/27/2014

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by Gwendolyn Plano
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Forgiveness is a complicated process. When just a tiny child, I memorized the Lord's Prayer and recited it with fervor. I did not understand the words, and certainly did not grasp the meaning of "forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us," but I often repeated the refrain.  

I grew up imagining that I forgave those who hurt me.

In Letting Go Into Perfect Love, I write: True forgiveness for me has been and is a progression of faltering baby steps through a storm of flying debris. My experience has taught me that anyone who has known the deep sorrows of sexual abuse, domestic violence, infidelity, cruelty of any kind, must walk through the debris to actually let it go.


What is forgiveness? Bishop Desmond Tutu once stated, "forgiveness does not mean condoning what has been done. It means taking what happened seriously and not minimizing it: drawing out the sting in the memory that threatens our entire existence."

Forgiveness is a process of drawing out the sting.

There are many processes that can help us draw out the sting. It does not happen over night, and it does not happen if we simply say the words. Forgiveness emerges when we feel safe enough to face that which is hidden in our hearts. And when this occurs, we will realize that some people are in our lives as blessings, and others are lessons. Once we understand this truth, we can let go, we are free.


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Who are the people you travel with through life? 

9/26/2014

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by Gwendolyn Plano
Indie Author News recently interviewed me, and one question in particular elicited gratitude--and respect. Alan Kealey asked,

Who are your favorite writers, your favorite books...? My response:

Maya Angelou will always hold a very special place in my heart, because she gave me permission to write about the struggles that I had held secretly within my soul. She opened the doors behind which sexual abuse and domestic violence thrive, and with her courage she paved a path of monumental change. Though I was not fortunate to meet her, she will always be my mentor.

Poet Mary Oliver’s verses speak to my soul. Her ponderings draw me into mystery, where I am brought to a deeper level of understanding. Inevitably, her choice of words guides my own. For instance, this comment left me speechless: “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” How extraordinary!

Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s writing is of similar quality to that of Mary Oliver—it is honest, pure, loving, and transformative. She knows pain and sorrow and yet has found joy. She is like the sister I have never met, a friend who by her life teaches me how to live.

In addition the works of the authors mentioned above, though, there are many others that are part of my life. Viktor E. Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s Hymn of the Universe, are just a few that crowd my bookcases and my dreams.
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I feel very indebted to the writers mentioned above, but I also feel a kinship--almost as though they are part of my family. Isn't this true for all of us? Don't we read for that sense of connection? And, when we discover that another has traveled a similar path as we, isn't it then that we become friends? 

There is a reason a person writes; I try to find that reason. I want to know the person sitting at his or her desk, and when I discover the author's heartbeat between the lines of prose, I join them on their journey.
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Photographer: Lars Van De Goor
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Why do we keep secrets? Why do we hide from life?

9/18/2014

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by Gwendolyn Plano
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Fifty years ago I attended a small community college in the deserts of California. Last week I returned to guest teach a psychology class.
Looking out over the sea of beautiful young faces, I recalled my early college years--the commute from the farm, the new friends next to me...and my dreams. 

When I was a freshman in college, I wanted to become a medical doctor and travel the world helping those most in need. I could not have imagined the life that actually unfolded for me. I was young--naïve, and did not know life's complexities.

My presentation began with a discussion about secrets, about how we hide our traumas deep within our hearts. We want others to see us as perfect, and so we smile when we are actually distraught. To illustrate my point, I introduced them to two students--one wealthy one not, one light one dark. Each young woman had became pregnant while attending the prestigious college at which I worked. Neither student sought help; neither student shared their secret--one of an abusive boyfriend, the other of rape.

One had her baby alone and nearly died; the infant did not survive. The other student gave her baby away to someone who did not know of the rape. Both had secrets that had gone awry.

Think about your secrets; we all have them, we all try to ignore them, we all pretend they don't exist. And yet we judge others for theirs--when the terror becomes public. What if our secrets--of rape, of an unwanted pregnancy, of incest, of domestic violence.....were exposed? Would we still point our finger at someone else?

Two young women multiplied by thousands experience violence every year. Most keep this experience a secret. Why?

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Why did I stay in an unhealthy relationship for so many years? Why did I keep it a secret?

The simple answer is--"I" was not there. "I" had died inside; "I" was a mannequin going through the motions of life. The complicated answer is I was afraid--of my former spouse, of what the church-you-society would think, of whether or not I could support my children, I was afraid of life.

It was when I began writing my book, that I was guided through the corridors of my heart, which I had sealed decades before. The years of abuse were long past and in tow—its numbness, and so it was that tears and gasps came and went--because they could.

The dramas that once controlled my life and held me captive are no more; and, the person I was decades ago lives only in ashen memories. But I wonder....about you, and you, the 1.3 million women who are victims of physical assault by their intimate partner each year--do you feel safe to share your secret?

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A Poem by Mary Oliver...the Journey

9/11/2014

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Mary Oliver has the extraordinary ability to capture universal truths within a few words. In this poem, she writes about listening to our inner voice to discover the one life we are here to save. For anyone struggling to find their way, The Journey offers encouragement and hope.

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The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

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A weekend promotion of Letting Go Into Perfect Love

9/10/2014

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by Gwendolyn Plano
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Mark your calendar for a .99 Kindle Book Sale.

September 12-13-14 the Kindle version of Letting Go Into Perfect Love, Discovering the Extraordinary After Abuse will be on sale for 99cents.

The reviews are excellent, the buzz is "must read" "riveting" "inspirational". Check out the Amazon page for full reviews.


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  "Memoir at its best with practical advice to battered women. In the United States, a woman is assaulted by her male partner every nine seconds. Anywhere from 1 million to 3 million women are battered each year by their intimate partner. Each day, four women die because of abuse. Domestic violence happens to all types of women -- poor, middle class, wealthy, educated or not, old or young, regardless of race or religion. As Gwendolyn Plano aptly puts it, the situation is "staggering."...Plano's story is not vindictive, yet it easily could have been. That feature alone suggests some sort of spiritual power behind the book. Call it perfect love or what you will."

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"...gripping memoir of surviving domestic violence and coping with the sexual abuse of her daughter...Ultimately life affirming, her journey will ring true to readers familiar with domestic violence and anyone who feels trapped and crippled by shame and self-blame."

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"This is a redemptive memoir with healing guidelines for those confined in or exposed to abusive relationships, for any who have endured family outrages, and for those wishing to accompany the writer on a journey towards self-realization."

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Writing about our travels through life

9/7/2014

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by Gwendolyn Plano
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We all have stories to tell--of how we got to where we are now. Without much prompting, we share these travels - and sometimes our dreams. Whether our listener is a friend or stranger, we long to connect, to somehow bridge the mysterious divide. For memoir writers, the motivation is much the same, but the process of writing can be a journey in and of itself.

When I began writing my book, I expected to simply tell my story: a farm girl goes to the big city, falls in love, marries, experiences tragedy, falls in love again, marries but then knows abuse, and along the way has four beautiful children. As the pages unfolded though, I realized that my story was everyone's story. The details of my journey are unique to me of course, but the emotions accompanying those details are universal. We all know sorrow, fear, or regret; and, we all travel through life trying to make sense of it all. 

I've read many memoirs this year, and with each I have discovered new friends. I know them through their struggles and their celebrations. Though I have not experienced the high mountains of Colorado, for instance, I feel as though I have--after reading Gin Getz's The Color of the Wild. Her quest became my own as winter became spring and the mountains burst with life. And, now as she publishes her second book, it is as though I'm awaiting a family reunion. There is so much I want to know, such as how the drought affected life on that soaring terrain. 

Prior to reading Larry Gray's A Boy From Down East, I didn't know what it was like to grow up in a neighborhood in the Southeast, where children spent their afternoons playing baseball in the fields. But I related to the youthful innocence and the stories that bridged generations. I had no neighborhood on the farm where I spent my youth, but I discovered that Gray's questions were like mine, and that realization captivated me within the first few paragraphs of the book. 


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Memories can open doors within our hearts. Sometimes the images become a great expanse of possibility, perhaps forgotten over time. As we pursue these glimpses of the past, a story unfolds which maybe we have not heard before.

Maya Angelou wrote that, "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." I now understand the agony of which she wrote, for the story ultimately is not mine (or yours)--it belongs to all of us. Each of us simply holds a version of it temporarily.


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Unraveling the Language of Dreams

9/4/2014

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by Gwendolyn Plano
My friend and colleague, Fran Kramer, has worked with dream interpretation for 40 years. She holds multiple academic degrees and is trained and certified by the Edgar Cayce Institute for Intuitive Studies. Fran uses intuition to heal, problem solve and create.

When Fran invited me to submit a reflection for her blog, I considered it an honor. The following is what I submitted: 

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From: The Healing Dream Garden, posted August 7, 2014

I grew up on a small farm in southern California, surrounded by cotton fields and grazing cattle. We were isolated from much of the world; but, the arid landscape was fertile ground for dreams. Once tucked into bed and sound asleep, I traveled–to far off lands. I knew I would someday leave the farm; because, I saw that it would be so–through my dreams.

When I got married, though, my nighttime reveries of soaring high into the clouds and traveling to one continent after another, changed. In fact, my dreams terrified me so much that I did not want to sleep. I would awaken with heart pounding, terror gripping—to images of a baby dying in my stalled car. I would frantically try to revive the child and then rouse fearfully from my bed. Visions of a shriveled, lifeless toddler haunted me night after night. And in each episode, I was desperately trying to save the child. I did not know what these dreams meant at the time; but, I worried about my children. Were the dreams about one of them?

Two years ago I began writing my memoir, Letting Go into Perfect Love. In preparation, I re-read my old journals and walked through the years. I had forgotten about my night terrors until seeing them chronicled in my notes. What had perplexed me in years past was now very clear.

For more than two decades I was in an abusive marriage. I lived afraid of mistakes, of saying the wrong thing, of being me. Joy was transient or not at all. I effectively hid from life, behind a closeted door of shame.

My dreams during this unwholesome marriage were about me, and more specifically, my lifeless inner child.

Through repetitive dreams, my subconscious was trying to get my attention. But, I could not hear its speech; because, my intuitive creative child lay lifeless in my nocturnal arms. With time and much counseling, though, this precious part of me revived and through her playful interjections, she helped me piece together a life that is once again mine.


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Fran's Reflection on my Repetative Dream

With horrific dreams my experience has been that we tend to want to find the meaning outside of ourselves, or take them to be literally true as you did when the dream made you worry about your children. That is why as a starter to working on most dreams, I often like to use the classic dreamwork method taught by Fritz Perls that everything in the dream is part of yourself. It is the quickest and one of the most effective ways of getting to the primary message. I also believe, along with Edgar Cayce, that dreams can have many levels of meanings so the dream could have been making a comment on possible concerns you had for your children at that time, too.  If it was my dream and I had kids, I think that would be the case for me.

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Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. ―Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning


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