It is always a good idea for me let God be in the drivers seat of my life. I must practice this often by becoming aware of my behaviors, then become willing, surrender and turn it over. I think asking only for the knowledge of His will for me and the power to carry that out has to be my motto. To do so surely is the gateway to a life of serenity lived in his grace. Much of the time operates my life by remote control without my even being aware of it, directing my body and size ten feet where he wants them to go. It’s cool when that happens.

Last week I found myself almost unbearably burdened by the illness of a loved one. I also had a pile of work on my desk that would choke a horse (some of it is still there, I admit). My goal for the evening was to just sit down and work my tail off until the pile was gone. That was it.

But somehow the bills got paid without the usual hassle. Then the topic for my on-line meeting got posted quite easily.  Somehow the Mt. Everest pile of laundry on the only chair in my house got folded and put away.

Putting God in the drivers seat resulted in Juliet sitting at beautiful, holy, refreshing Tanglewood last Saturday evening instead of staying at home.  I brought my writing with me and did it while sitting on the lawn while I listened to fantastic music. I get so inspired by listening to the performers at this venue. They are all excellent. My creativity level always skyrockets when I am in that space.  And I didn’t direct it. I didn’t plan it or fight it. A a spiritual adviser I am acquainted with said, “let go and let God turn you, then go that direction.” In my experience this day , that worked very well.

I am still so concerned about my sick relative and his burdened family. I am in a constant state of prayer, lifting him up to God for healing, and enlightenment. But I left my precious Tanglewood renewed, uplifted and creatively inspired. And what do you know? I got much of my writing work done.

I am thankful to God for being my Navigator. He drives very well, never gets road rage, never gets lost, has to ask for directions and doesn’t need a GPS. It doesn’t get better than that.

About Suffering

Suffering is defined in the dictionary as undergoing the feelings of pain or distress.  This could be done willingly, as an offering to God, or unwillingly, as a person in pain from a disease.

Why do we have to suffer? I have come to believe that God has us suffer to bring us closer to him.  If we never walked in the darkness, we could not recognize or appreciate the Light.  As humans, we have the tendency to only call on God when we need something, much like the college student, who only calls home when they have run out of money.  We pray when we lose our job, get sick, lose a significant relationship, feel we have been wronged someone, or feel like we just can’t possibly get through another minute of our day.

I have a couple of people who are close to me who have recently been diagnosed with cancer.  Both of them are very kind, sweet, loving, healthy living, and relatively young people.  It is hard to understand why this would happen to such wonderful people. Why not inflict the leader of North Korea with brain cancer? Or maybe that guy who kidnapped those women in Cleveland for ten years?  Or Hitler? Why didn’t he get hit with stage IV prostate cancer?   I know this doesn’t sound very Quakerly of me and I apologize.

I do know this:  there is a God and I am not God.  I know nothing of God’s plans.  He does have a plan for each one of us and that plan is perfect. He has a plan for this universe and for those of us who are followers of Christ and have the wonderful future of eternal life in His presence.  I firmly believe in this afterlife and am looking forward to spending eternity in His presence and finding out the answers to all of these questions.

As a codependent I suffer along with all of my loved ones in that I feel like I am responsible for the their diseases, pain and suffering.  If they hurt, it is my duty to hurt too. It is also my responsibility to fix them. I have to feel their pain and cure their cancer. It sounds crazy, but as a life long codependent that grew up being responsible for everyone else all the time, that is how I think.  Thus I spend a lot of time in anguish and torment. How can I fix it? If I obsess long enough about it I can figure it out, right? Wrong.
So what do I do with all of this? I am not God. I am not a doctor, surgeon, therapist, guru, healer or priest. I am just me. Just your average Josephine trying to walk through this world.

So I do my 12 steps.

1. I admit I am powerless over others, that my life has become unmanageable.  I am obsessing about my loved ones and am in the midst of the codependent crazies.

2. I come to believe that a Power Higher than myself can restore me to sanity.

3. I make the decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God, as I understand him. In other words, turn it over, let go and let God.  I didn’t cause it, I can’t cure it.

4.  I make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself. I am practicing my defects of over responsibility, obsessiveness, compulsiveness, caretaking, feeling other peoples feelings, making other people more important then myself and self abuse, just to name a few.

5.  I admit to God, myself and my sponsor the exact nature of my wrongs.

6.  I become entirely ready for God to remove these defects of character. It doesn’t serve me to try and fix everyone else, obsess about him or her, have my heartache like I was them.  I have enough heartache about all of it enough already.

7. Humbly ask God to remove my defects of character.  I also ask Him to help me through this suffering. I ask Him to heal my loved ones.

8.  Made a list of all people I have harmed and become willing to make amends to them all.  This list is short this time. I am harming myself. I am neglecting myself and overburdening myself by taking the whole world on my shoulders.

9.  Made direct amends whenever possible, except when to do so would injure others.  I forgive myself for judging myself for not being good enough. I forgive myself for not being able to cure cancer. I forgive myself for being healthy when my loved ones are sick.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when I was wrong promptly admitted it. I need to get the focus back on me and what God wants me to do.  I need to do what is in front of me.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with God as I understand God, asking only for the knowledge of his will for me and the power to carry that out. What is my role in this God? Do I have the courage to pray ONLY for God’s will? Do I have the courage to let go of what I want and just focus on what He wants? That takes courage, faith and trust.  I pray for the strength to do this.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, I seek to carry this message to other codependents and to practice these principles in all my affairs.

I surrender.  I humbly recognize that I am merely dust.  God knows all. I know nothing. This entrance into suffering is His way of bringing me closer to Him and needing Him more. I am grateful for these experiences. Although they are very painful, these brushes with mortality, even if they are experienced through others, help the rest of us to remember to live in the moment, cherish the little things in life, and let go of everything else. The only thing that matters for me is to follow God, to pray without ceasing, and to do what I think he is calling me to do.  I read his Word, listen to his voice in Meeting and try and walk the walk as best I can.  Suffering produces fruit.  It makes my faith stronger. It makes each sunrise that much brighter.  I am grateful.  God is always good.

Juliet A. Wright
juliet@hiddenangel.net
Author, publisher, singer/songwriter,teacher.
Author of “Everything Is My Fault,” Singer/Songwriter for two albums “Fearless Moral Inventory” and “Beloved”

http://www.hiddenangel.net/home/book-review-a-long-dark-journey-into-light

This most recent issue of Strings Magazine really got to me. They seem to be really promoting a whole new vibe with this issue. The message seems to be:  Buy purple violins, go rock and roll with your violin, dance while you play.  The cover of the issue is adorned by a new rock violinist with a pixie, cutesy hairdo who dances while she plays, does UTube videos and has more UTube hits than even Itzhak Perlman. Another article in the magazine, the Top Ten Things That a New Strings Teacher Should Know, the author said that we should remember that not everyone is there to expand their mind and be part of a deeper, meaningful experience.  I was struck by what they are trying to say. They are trying to modernize us; lets get into the 21^st century.  Let’s do some improvisation, electric and painted violins are cool, loosen up baby.

So, let’s address these one at a time. Painted violins are cheap, at least the ones most people buy.  The article stresses that maybe this is all the student can afford and please don’t insult their instrument because it will hurt their feelings and then they will want to quit. The maker of these painted gems says they are good enough to learn on and for $75.00 they can get a violin and start playing. But you know what? It is not good enough to learn on.  It does not stay in tune and despite what people say, students can tell the difference.  They know when it sounds right and when it doesn’t.  I’m willing to be a modern girl.  I can start my students colorful violins to get them playing and engaged.  When they start progressing and auditioning for District orchestras and such, then they will see that all of the violins are the same color and they can change then.  They can’t learn on a crappy instrument. Why not make an instrument that works? I don’t care if it’s purple with pink polka dots but it has to stay in tune and not make my life a living nightmare when I’m spending 10 minutes of a 30-minute lesson trying to tune an instrument that won’t stay in tune. It’s just too frustrating and it’s a huge waste of instructional time.

As far as the whole rock and roll violins with improvisation and such. I am willing and able to teach that as well. But you have to give me long enough periods in which to teach it, not these microscopic 30-minute periods where the actual playing time is 20 minutes if you are really lucky.  I need to have time to teach them the basics as well as the improvisation.  And as far as dancing goes, my mother was a choreographer.  I can teach them some moves.  But they need to learn the basics first. Besides I don’t know what violin player can run and leap around while they play and still sound good.  Especially when they are eight or nine.  Geez. Give me a break.  It is important to make it sound good. When they watch this girl on u tube they are going to think “wow. I can bounce around like that and sound good too,” and that’s not true. She is over dubbed and probably sounds way different in person, missing notes and screeching.  The talent show she was on stated as much.  She is probably everyone’s hero.

So give us teachers the time we need to teach and we’ll get as modern as you want.  Give me time to teach the basics and then we can expand. I know that some kids are just in there to be with their friends. But I still need to try and teach them the right way. What kind of teacher would I be if I let them play it wrong? I know I need to try and make it fun for them. Or I could focus on the kids that can and just let the other kids come along for the ride.

Check out my featured blog at my friend and photographer Alice Garik’s site below!

http://www.alicegarik.com/2012/12/30/thoughts-portrait-of-an-amazing-singersongwriter/

The other day I was pacing the floor in the women’s locker room at my local YMCA and complaining about the tardiness of the pool lifeguard.  Once again the other swimmers and I were waiting and waiting for the lifeguard to arrive and open the door.  What is the matter with him? I thought.  Doesn’t he know what time it is? Doesn’t he know I only have 25 minutes to swim on a good day? Doesn’t he know what time I have to be in Pittsfield and that my students will be waiting at the door for my sorry late self?  Doesn’t the world revolve around me?

The lifeguard did come shuffling in at about 6:10, bleary eyes gazing aimlessly through Weezer-type glasses, disheveled hair and a huge cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee. He definitely had that “been up all night” look. He promptly sat down, took out his I-phone and started fooling around with it, rarely looking up at the swimmers.  Someone could have drown, had a heart attack, been swallowed by Jaws or gone swimming in the nude without him noticing.

His late arrival sent me on a mission to squeeze a 25-minute power swim into a 15-minute lap swimming frenzy that would scare even the likes of Dairy Torres.  Swimming off my rage while trying to recite in my head all of my positive affirmations that are meant to calm me down, I started wondering what the guards’ night might have been like to put him in this state of tardiness and ambivalence.  Perhaps he had been up all night writing a paper, solving the riddles of a computer program, doing advanced trigonometry, partying or all of the above.

I was a student myself once and I am very familiar with the all-nighter hell that sometimes swallows up an unsuspecting college student the way acne suddenly shows up on ones face.  They are awful.  I stayed up all night doing an arrangement for my guitar ensemble class once.  It’s not that I was a procrastinator or anything like that.  I wasn’t partying and hanging out with guys all night. I really don’t know what happened.  All of a sudden the arrangement was due the next day.

Well, I stayed up all night and finished it.  My big mistake?  The piece was in they key Bb really. Instead of putting the two necessary flats in the key signature like a normal arranger would do, I wrote them into every measure.  The Bland Man, (the pet name we gave for our guitar teacher at Miami,) really gave it to me for that one.  I felt stupid.  Okay so I’m not perfect.  I can’t say that my mistake on that piece has altered my life in any negative way.  The key signature police never arrested me or anything.  I did spend that whole day in this spaced out, half nauseated coma, wondering how in the world I would stay awake for my music history class with the professor who talked in a monotone voice and repeated the phrase “for all practical purposes,” in just about every sentence.  My grade in that class did not turn out well either.

Well at least I am learning to have compassion for others and that is important in this life.  I was able to put myself in this lifeguards imaginary shoes and to thus be truly grateful for what I have.  I hope he got some sleep.  I hope he finds a job he likes that pays him something.  I had a short swim that day, but I am still living and breathing.  I’m glad to not have to trade places with him. I hope my days of staying up all night to do guitar ensemble arrangements are over.  I was in a good mood when I left the pool that day.  I felt like Rick Moranis in Ghostbusters when he was talking to Sigourney Weaver and told her he did his workout video on fast-forward and cut it down to 20 minutes.  What a time saver.  Thank you God for the small pleasures in life.

Light appeared in my classroom today – beautiful, radiant, heart-warming Light.  This Light had nothing to do with me. This Light came in the form of dedicated Orchestra Angels, their eyes focused, ears open, hearts content to do their best to make the music that fills their souls.  I am so grateful for them. They made my day. How wonderful it is to be a teacher when the teacher and students are on the same wavelength, with the same interests, goals, hopes and dreams.  It is for this that I became a music teacher.

These particular students attend the school we will call School B.  I teach at their school one afternoon a week. The periods are short, only 30 minutes. Most of the eight schools I teach at follow this rigid schedule. This can lead to lots of frustration if the students are late, have a broken string, the bridge has fallen out, had to take a test…. You get the point. But today the water was flowing beautifully and harmoniously down the stream.  All the students were on time, focused, sweet, there to learn and just plain fun.  I don’t take credit for any of this.  This was the Light.  I was merely the facilitator organizing the learning, but it was the Light in the students that made it happen.  We made music together – beautiful, heart-felt music.  I am so thankful to work in a school district that still values the arts.

So one would think that this teacher could just bask in the glory of her afternoon, be thankful, and let that be that.  But no, not when you are a codependent who thinks everything is your fault.  When you are a perfectionistic codependent with low self esteem who blames yourself for everything, it is even worse.

The catalyst that is pouring salt on this hot fudge sundae of a day would be experiences I had a School A prior to my arrival at School B.  I want to be clear that I had some great classes at School A today.  There were many little Angels shining their Light in my School A classes; trying hard to learn, loving music, giving me their eyes, ears and physical efforts to create something pleasing to the ear for our upcoming concerts.  But, there were also some Rascals in orchestra today that wanted to do anything but learn. We were just on different planets. Of course I found this frustrating.  I am so time conscious and some students are so not time conscious.  They don’t have any idea what time it is, how little of it we have together, and the huge mountain of work we have to do to get ready for a concert in a very few weeks.  So why can’t I just heave a huge sigh, tell God I did the best I could, leave it at school, go home and stack my wood knowing I did the best I could? Why can’t I? Because I’m codependent.  I have been beating the daylights out of myself for how that lesson went. I had to pull a girl aside and set her straight on the behavior expectations in orchestra.  Then I feel mean and awful. Did I ruin her life?  Is she crying somewhere? Are her parents going to send me a lambasting email? Am I going to be eating peanut butter next week?  Or is she playing a video game and I am the last thing on her mind? Who knows.

All I can do is the best I can do.  Teachers everywhere work harder than anyone will ever know.  It is a very, very difficult job.  The majorities of teachers I have met work hard every day trying to get kids to learn believe in themselves and become productive members of society.  We do want our students to have joy in their lives.  Sometimes it takes hard work to get there. When we are a team with our students, we can accomplish amazing things.  But when half of the horses in the wagon train are pulling the other direction, it makes it hard to accomplish things.

So I come back to the Light. Every single day of my life, before I go into a school, I give my lessons to God. God, let your will be done with these lessons.  Let my words be your words. I need to have faith that He heard me.  I will, to the best of my ability, try and be a beacon of Light to the many little Blessings who enter my classroom every day.  I will try and deflect the Darkness, or better yet, tell it to take a hike.  And, like any good Quaker would do, I will strive to find and focus on the Light in each and every Blessing that crosses my threshold. And maybe somewhere in there I can learn to give myself a break and realize that I am doing the best I can.

A fatal mistake will finish me,

Like Eve’s tragic fall

And people will finally find out

What’s really behind my wall.

(All These Fears, from Fearless Moral Inventory,

by Juliet A. Wright, copyright 2011, all rights reserved.)

I went to visit my sister and her beau on Martha’s Vineyard over the summer. They had rented a pleasant cottage and invited me down for few days. We had a wonderful time walking through Vineyard Haven, visiting the beach, swimming, running, and picnicking while we watched the sunset. This beautiful serene island was the perfect place to decompress before starting back to school in late August.

The day of my departure we headed over to Chappaquiddick so that I could see it before I headed back to Vermont.  My sister had composed a really funny rhyme about the ferry that transports people from Edgartown to Chappaquiddick.  It goes something like this:

If you want to take a nappy on the ferry to Chappy,

you’d better make it snappy or you won’t be happy!

(by Elizabeth H.Wright, copyright 2012, all rights reserved)

When we drove our car up to the docks to wait in line for the ferry, I could see why the nappy had to be snappy.  What a cute, tiny ferry! It only transports 3 cars the short distance of 300 yards from dock to dock. The ferry is a fun ride and I highly recommend it.

Our first stop on “Chappy” was Dike Bridge, the site of the Ted Kennedy Incident, which occurred on July 18, 1969.   I was told the story of the incident as we stood on the bridge staring down into the murky water below.  I immediately became intrigued about the accident, the details of what happened and why.  Thus, upon my return to Vermont, I hopped on Amazon and ordered a couple of used books on the subject and began my research.

This is my typical human fascination with tragedy, shock and disgust showing through. Why are we like that?  Why do we wait with anticipation to be grossed out?  I don’t know, but I do. It reminds me of all of the countless hours I have spent on the freeways of Los Angeles, completely stuck in rage-inducing traffic, waiting to see the blood, guts and gore that caused me to wait two hours to go three miles.  Somehow that moment of “oh my gosh, that’s awful,” justifies the birth of the screaming out of control maniac I become when I can’t go more than five miles an hour in my car.

Anyway, back to Chappaquiddick.  So, according to research I’ve done, Kennedy was driving to the ferry with Mary Jo Kopechne in the car, when he made a wrong turn and ended up on Dike Road instead of Main Street. His car went off the bridge and turned over. Somehow he got out of the car, but he couldn’t get her out, even though he claims to have tried repeatedly.  Instead of immediately contacting the authorities for help, he chose to go back to where his friends were and ask them for help.  They went and tried to get her out too, but couldn’t.  They told him to report the accident.  The accident, however, did not end up getting reported until 10 ours later.

Kennedy stated that he could not explain his actions at all, except to say that he was in a state of shock.  God rest his soul, but he must have been in shock.  Because if I put myself in that situation, I can’t imagine doing anything less than running down the street, screaming at the top of my lungs for help, finding the first person I see and saying, “Please call for help, there is someone trapped, please help me!” It would be automatic for me.  I can’t imagine handling it any other way.  Kennedy had his political career at stake.  He had also lost two brothers in the past six years.  That’s no excuse.  What’s right is what is right. He made a mistake here.

The point is, however, that sometimes our mistakes end up being our saving grace.  This accident marred his reputation and probably cost him the presidency. It also probably saved his life. He probably would have been assassinated just like his brothers.  God gives us what we need, not what we want. I’m sorry for Mary Jo and her family. It was an awful, tragic accident that was poorly handled.

I have always thought that I would make one fatal mistake that would ruin my whole life, just like my lyrics above suggest.  I thought that mistake was losing the love of my life. It was all my fault. Then I thought I made another mistake by getting involved with Brad, my next and last serious relationship. That dysfunctional union nearly destroyed me. (Also all my fault.)  It also led me into recovery from codependency.  This recovery has saved my life in many ways and I am grateful for it.  I have grown as a person and feel like I am doing God’s will by working my codependency program and reaching out to those who also suffer from the disease.  My lost marriage and dysfunctional union with Brad might have been necessary steps towards my recovery.

Nothing happens in this world by accident. It is all part God’s plan. I wonder if Ted realizes that where he is now. I wonder if he is looking down from where he is and it all makes sense.  I wonder if he is sitting there wishing he could take it all back and do it differently.  I’ve been there too.  But I believe, for me, I’m in a better place now.  I hope he is too.

This country puts too much of an emphasis on the physical appearance of women.  One does not have to do much searching to find tabloid news in which some celebrity is being chastised for weight gain or praised for weight loss.

This judgment and public chastising is not only detrimental to the person being judged, but it’s very superficial.  What is important is what is in a person’s heart and soul.  Every person on this planet is a beloved child of God just the way they are. I think God would be much happier with a person with a person who has warmth, compassion and understanding towards others whether they look like a fashion model or not.

Karen Carpenter was the victim of such criticism. I have always been a fan of hers.  I love her low alto voice.  As a kid I spent hours listening to and learning the songs she recorded with her brother. Years ago I watched a movie about her life and struggles with anorexia. Her obsession with her weight was triggered by a review she had read about a recent performance she and her brother had given. The reviewer had referred to her as Richards chubby sister.

Karen lost her battle with anorexia and died at the age of 32. I know we are all responsible for our own feelings and responses to things and I am in no way blaming whomever that review was for her death.  But I do think that people need to be more mindful of the judgments they pass on people in regards to their weight and appearance.  Looks aren’t everything.

Everything I am saying here I say to myself.  I am just as guilty as the next person for judging people for their weight. Last year I discovered a wonderful new folk singer who shall remain nameless.  I found her through a local women’s music festival, fell in love with her voice and bought her CD.  I still play it constantly. Not too long ago I found a video clip of this person on the internet and discovered that they were heavy.

“Oh wow, that’s too bad,” I thought to myself.  “That probably is going to have an affect on her career.  I wonder why she doesn’t lose weight?” I immediately scolded myself for this superficial judgment and did a 10^th step personal inventory on the subject. I was wrong and I knew it.

I myself have struggled with my weight my whole life. Throughout my career in Hollywood it was always an issue and had a negative affect on my job opportunities. Bandleaders were always getting on me about my weight.  It didn’t matter how talented I was.  How I looked was all that mattered.

Part of this has to do with my upbringing.  Both of my parents were always criticizing me for my weight.

One specific incident is stuck in my brain for all time. It has seriously affected how I feel about myself. What I interpreted from this incident was that I was a fat, ugly, unlovable loser.

My Codependency blames this incident. The reality is that I feel this way about myself because this is how I feel about myself. That’s it. My feelings and thoughts about myself are my responsibility.

Anyway, the following incident affected my inner teenager and me for years to come.

We stopped somewhere along the New York Thruway for a snack on the way home from Madison Square Garden, where my sister had been competing in the National Horse Show on her Saddlebred horse. I ordered a corn muffin with butter on it. Dad went berserk.

“You have a weight problem and you have to deal with it,” he roared in front of the whole restaurant.

I spent the rest of the meal staring at the muffin while I tried not to cry, because Lord knows, I would have gotten in trouble for that too. Don’t show your feelings. I was so mortified.

We were traveling in separate cars and I was riding in Mom’s car. When we got in the car to head home, I started bawling immediately.

“I feel so ugly,” I said.

“He never should have done that,” she responded.

People get judged for being fat. We live in a society where looks matter — a lot. I’ve fallen right into it too. I diet like crazy and work out like a fiend. I write down my weight every day and measure every morsel of food. I feel better though, being lean and in shape, and I’m actually as healthy as a horse.

From that day on, my inner child has felt like a fat, ugly loser. I am currently working with a therapist, CoDA, Overeaters Anonymous (OA), Weight Watchers, my sponsor, and in an inner-child workbook to rid myself of these negative beliefs.

That was one of the most shameful moments of my whole life.

I wrote my song “Expectations” about this very subject.

Why aren’t I thin, I overeat

Why aren’t I pretty, long arms, big feet

Shame on me, admit defeat

With your fantasy, I can’t compete

It’s perfect

 After all it’s all about you

 You’re the one who’s good

Why can’t I be who you want me to be

And take care of you like I should

You keep shoving expectations on me

I just keep trying to please you

You keep shoving expectations on me

I’ll lose myself trying to please you.

(Expectations, from Fearless Moral Inventory, by Juliet A. Wright, copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

Excerpts taken from

Wright, Juliet A. Everything is My Fault. Pownal, VT: Hidden Angel Publishing, 2012. p. 53.

My friend JW Najarian interviewed me for his on line magazine, On Purpose. Follow the link below to listen!

http://onpurposemagazine.com/tag/jw-najarian/