Tag: essay

Somatic (Trump) Healing

Somatic (Trump) Healing

The 2020 Spring confluence of the Covid Shut Down and the Murder of George Floyd both sparked nationwide protests. As an old hippie, I uncharacteristically refrained from the George Floyd, anti-racist marches due to the possibility of covid-contaminated wandering spew. I confined myself to protesting by laptop day and night. On my newly-learned Zoom app, I heard Resma Menakem, psychotherapist and somatic practitioner, offer a description of white supremacy as told in his book, My Mother’s Hands. 

Menakem writes that racism is a form of PTSD that resides in white European DNA. He suggests using body-centered awareness and movements to reduce the trauma and tension stored in the nervous system. With Zoom, I began leading a weekly online meditation group using simple breathing instructions. After I read My Mother’s Hands, I subconsciously expanded the instructions to include somatic thoughts and body-centered words.  

In September 2026, my Zoom book group concluded a prolonged study of Resma Menakem’s book. As the weekly discussions progressed, I slowly became aware that his work has influenced the guided meditation I use to center us before our group discussions. I consider this gradual insight the most important dimension of our book group work. We may not “get it” right away, but the authors’ influence seeps in through contemplation.

On September 27, 2026, David Brooks talked to Ayad Akhtar on his podcast “The Permanent Questions.” Brooks labeled the session “What Is the Meaning of Mystical Experience?” And centered the discussion around Akhtar’s latest book, The Radiance: A Novel. 

Akhtar, my favorite new atheist, revealed that he has a practice that has no words, like a somatic practice of walking in the woods or staring at a sleeping cat. He clearly expects to have transcendent experiences in this practice and used the telling of it to let us know there is a certain spiritual life beyond, or more precisely, without, religion. 

I don’t know about you, but deep transcendent experiences, are flittering away these days. The sight of a monarch butterfly is a momentary, rather than a mystical, thrill because we’re told they are disappearing because of us. Happiness, peace, tranquility are fleeting surface emotions. It’s as if Trumpism has physically removed them from my psyche, excised them from my soul. The longing for them has not, however, evaporated. Ayad Akhtar expresses this as the ultimate human emotion — the longing for it.

“Firing Line” host Margaret Hoover asked foreign affairs scholar and measured journalist Anne Applebaum, “If architecture expresses political values, what should the next president of the United States do with the ballroom?”

Applebaum, a Washington DC native, reacted with visible somatic emotion, “Knock it down.”

She’s longing for it. The bodily return to normalcy. Me too. Ayad Akhtar’s novel has the promise of ushering in spiritual relief, regulated breathing, reduced back pain and a quieter stomach—without religion or God. 

Walking my dog Elsa does that too.

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Guided Meditation as influenced by “My Mother’s Hands.”

Whatever you experience during meditation is right for you. Don’t try to make anything happen, just observe.

Begin by sitting in a comfortable position. Notice how your breath flows in and out. Don’t change your breathing in any way, simply notice how your body breathes. When your thoughts wander, bring your attention back to your breathing.

I close my eyes softly bringing awareness to my breathing.   

I allow my mind to rest in my heart as I come into my body. 

Sitting still. Relaxed.  Alert.  

I hold my back straight, not stiff.  

My torso rests with ease and comfort centered in my pelvis.  

My feet are held up by the floor, my body held down by gravity. 

I sense the temperature of the room.  

I notice sound. 

I notice thoughts of sound.

I imagine stiffness melting away from my neck, shoulders, eyes, forehead, cheeks.

I watch tension leave my face as my jaw drops slightly.   

I breathe in. I breathe out.  

I have no where to go, nothing to do; need nothing to change. This moment. 

And this Moment. And this moment.  

I allow complex thoughts to enter my mind and leave my mind. Feelings, plans, fantasies, memories, conclusions, judgements come in and go out. Come in and go out.

The worries of the world do not own me. I do not own the worries of the world.

I bring my focus to my breath as distractions come into my mind.  

May I be at peace. May my friends & family be at peace. May my enemies be at peace. May all sentient beings be at peace.

I breathe in. I breathe out. 

Sassy Sisters for Biggs

FeaturedSassy Sisters for Biggs

Regan Burke, Roberta Cohen, Janie Urbanic

In the three to four generations we’ve lived in Chicago, there have been very few summers that the Chicago Public Schools have not been in the impending doom segments of the news. And here we are again with errant school board members creating an August budget crisis by trying to shame the Illinois General Assembly into filling a $150 million budget hole. Responsible CPS board member Jessica Biggs voted against this misguided move stating it is “not a reasonable source of revenue” (https://www.biggs4chicago.com/headlines).

Yeah, it’s not.

We’ve had it!

Where is good government? We think, have always thought, as the Chicago Tribune editorial on August 7, 2026 pointed out, that merging the Chicago Teachers Pension Fund with the state Teachers Retirement System is not just a sound fiscal idea, but no-brainer good government. What’s the holdup? Is it some ancient bend to Illinois’ notorious corrupted government institutions? Right about now, merging these retirement funds would be a good public relations move on the part of the Speaker of the House who is facing down yet another sexual harassment foot-dragging scandal.

Good government has brought us an elected school board for the first time in Chicago’s history. From its inception, we cynically worried about another lobbyist-controlled institution run by loudmouth bullies with an ax to grind or point to prove — not a board organized around educating and caring for Chicago public school kids.

In November Chicago has a chance to change the generations old crisis-driven CPS by electing Jessica Biggs as its first independent School Board President.

Oh we get it. The fix will take a while and just like Moses never saw the promised land, we may not see a functioning, well-oiled, incorruptible school board come quickly. But we know Jessica Biggs will lead CPS toward a promising legacy for our progeny, our city’s future.

Jessica Biggs, a graduate of Loyola University and Harvard Graduate School of Education was a special education teacher and a Chicago public school principal. She’s a fiercely independent experienced leader who brings together different points of view that lead to new solutions. 

A current school board member, independent candidate Biggs built a multicultural, multigenerational rare coalition in 2024. She won her 2024 school board campaign by 44% of the vote against two candidates who were funded by special interest groups. Jessica is a winner.

Sassy Sisters for Biggs Janie Urbanic, Roberta Cohen, Regan Burke, Jessica Biggs

Friends in our generation ask why we care about the Chicago Public Schools. We no longer have school age kids or even grandkids in CPS. The answer is easy: 1) The school board budget, funded mostly by property taxes affects our household budgets whether we rent or own our homes. 2) We love and care about Chicagoans, no matter what generation, what age, what income bracket, what education level.

And we want to leave our city in good hands.

We believe leaders like Jessica Biggs are those good hands.

State of the Union? You’re Kidding, Right?

State of the Union? You’re Kidding, Right?

Why did so many people ask me about watching the State of the Union speech? And not just me. Local news reporters asked people on the street.  I’ve Had It Podcaster Jennifer Welch asked Resister Senator Chris Murphy of Connecticut if he was going.

“Well, hell no, I’m not going. He’s made a mockery of the State of the Union. And we don’t need to be a backdrop to his histrionics.”

Honestly, it’s not like the speech was the U.S. Women’s Hockey finals at the Olympics. It was Donald Trump’s State of the Union. The news about the number of Democratic Members of Congress and Senators not heading over to the House Chamber in the Capitol was interesting. However, it was expected. We didn’t need to see breaking news headlines about each boycotter pop out of our phones all day.

Resister Senator Raphael Warnock of Georgia preached at Trinity Church in Chicago Sunday. His sermon was titled I’ve had enough. Using the Hebrew Bible’s Isaiah, he reminded us of wicked kings. These kings and wannabe kings erase anything that looks like diversity, equity, and inclusion. 

“Don’t act like this is politics as usual. This is not just politics, it’s spiritual wickedness in high places. Haven’t we had enough?”

Senator Warnock said God hates solemn assemblies that normalize this political spiritual wickedness. God hates?

“Wickedness in our lifetime is being facilitated and approved and applauded by people who are sitting in somebody’s church this morning,” preached Warnock. I’d hate that too if I were God.

Last summer, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson gathered some of his boys in prayer. They met in the basement of the Capitol. They emerged from their subterranean huddle to vote on the bill that kicked 15 million people off health care. Warnock questioned who those boys prayed to. Who did they talk to?

Senator Warnock did attend the State of the Union speech. Good for him. His ministry of solemn presence condemns the MAGA religion of those boys in the basement.

Trinity Church’s pastor, Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III and Rev. Dr. Raphael Warnock are alum of The Auburn Senior Fellows. They are two of twenty-five top leaders who bring justice-centered faith into the public square. An unprecedented cohort of changemakers, they were brought together by Auburn Seminary in New York City. You’ll see them in places like Minneapolis and Alligator Alley, No Kings rallies and detention center protests. No matter your religion or no-religion, if you ever get a chance to see one of them, go. Just go. They are listed here. 

The titles of Jennifer Welch’s podcast I’ve Had It and Warnock’s preaching I’ve Had Enough are misleading. Yes, they’ve had it, had enough. But they keep going, keep speaking out, keep organizing, keep preaching. 

Because they haven’t had so much that they quit. 

 

The Peace of Non Closure

The Peace of Non Closure

A new concept popped up at the outset of a recent anti-racist training session. Among the familiar “courageous-conversation” ground rules, the leader added, “We commit to non-closure. (pause) Right?”

Whoa, really? My fellow attendees all yes’d the speaker as if they knew this already. I thought I must have ignored an inboxed message, or, in my long season of retirement, missed another new corporate buzz word. Non-closure.

On the brink of Juneteenth, the half-day session promised to address the backlash to Diversity, Equity and Inclusion programs and policies. That morning all of nature said yes! to Chicago. I wanted to say yes! too, and take a long walk in the park with my dog. Instead, I reluctantly ambled over to the dingy conference room in a church basement near my home. Anti-racism churned inside me and I had no organized outlet. I was curious to see if there was anything new.  Answers.

But here I was, swallowing a commitment to non-closure. No answers, no conclusions, no plans, no fantasies of what might be. Of the numerous anti-racism trainings I’ve attended since the murder of George Floyd this may be the first time I recognized that it’s safe to be in that liminal space of unknowing, of ambiguity. There would be no meaning-making, no sense-making, no closure.

Facilitators from Crossroads, an antiracism training organization, gathered us together, not to tell us what they know, but to find out what we know. They see, feel, but even more, they sense, not just a political backlash in anti-racism work but, an active softening in community and personal commitment. 

The air is leaking out of the tires.

This week Donald Trump and I had birthdays. We’re the same age. Several friends asked me how I planned to celebrate.

“I don’t really celebrate my birthday.”

“Why not?” Asked my favorite poet.

I had no answer. 

He asked about my writing.

“I’ve been thinking lately I may not write anymore.”

“Why?” He asked.

Another why question. And no good answer. Is that a failing? No answer? Does it mean I’m not sufficiently self-reflective?

Liminal, from the Latin, “threshold” puts time and space betwixt and between. On liminal days, birthdays dangle off the edge of time. The past no longer haunts me, the future no longer calls me. I neither wait nor wonder. Indeed, birthdays are liminal days.

Anthropologists say that memory disorder, pandemic uncertainty, authoritarianism, virtual reality, border disputes, old-age anxiety, environmental issues, and gender trouble put society in a self-protective liminal state. Whew! Thank you God. This beloved gift  allows me to live on the threshold where social norms, like answering the question “why” or reading every damn email are temporarily suspended. 

In the ninth grade, when I was consumed with past and future popularity by any means, I was inconveniently tormented with one living and one dead poet: T.S. Eliot and Alfred Lord Tennyson. A lot has been written about the spiritual liminality, the non-closure of their work. It’s only now (or is it?) that I see why these vexing lines captured me:

Tennyson’s Ulysses:
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' 
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades 
For ever and forever when I move.
TS Eliot’s Four Quartets:
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.