Older Now- Fathers and Sons.

Well, with Father’s Day tomorrow, I have been thinking of my own Father. Many years ago I found poetry a huge release as a way of writing out and contemplating the inner world. Robert Bly, John Lee, Sam Keen, James Hillman were all men that used story and poetry and that inspired me enormously to be courageous and go within, and write my own. To go inside, under the earth, to some dark and light places. It can be just as hard to confront your shadow, as it is to confront your heart.

My Fathers inner world was something he was quiet about. He was an Englishman. There was a time I even wondered whether he had one. I know now he certainly did. He just did not have the language to share it. I wished he had shared something with me about his inner life, and how important it is as a man to take time out so you can take time in, and just how important that is in becoming aware. To read something reflective, poetry, spiritual literature, stories of men, Earth, Love and Faith. That this time makes a man deeper, stronger, a better Warrior, Lover, Magician and King!

My father found his peace in the vegetable garden, fixing things in his garage, and brewing beer. He was peaceful when I remember him doing these things. He had energy for the family when he spent some time in those places. I know that feeling these days. It’s important to know when you need to take that sort of time for yourself.

My mother use to send him bush when he was retired when he starting getting antsy around the house.  He would go to metal detect for Gold. It was a hobby he picked up when we had all got older and left to start our own lives. He would usually pack up his things the next day and head off for a few days. Searching streams for gold, sitting around a camp fire on his own at night, it was his special place. When he came from England with his father on a boat, a six week journey back then, his first experience in Australia was jackarooing out west. I always thought these times in his retirement reminded him of the time he was free, horse backing riding, living with the energy and dreams of a young man. He made some of his gold into some jewellery for my mother. Now that’s a family heirloom.

The first part of my life I spent running away from myself with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I didn’t start the journey within as a man that until in my recovery, after I had been clean a few years, dealing with relationships and Rage in particular that got me attending men meetings and weekend Gatherings. I changed from a female therapist to a male. Started reading men’s literature. Listening to Iron John by Robert Bly, John Lee’s healing the Father-Son wound. It changed everything. My life changed over a fifteen year period. I used to feel like a boy in a man’s body. These days I feel like a man in a man’s body. It does not mean I don’t have fun and hang loose and be a goose. It just means I have a better sense of when to be in the different spaces of being a man.

Tomorrow there will be two little boys waking me up with my Father’s Day gift. I already have an idea what it is, because they have “told me a secret”. They are four and two. Now we have a secret cause I told them not to tell their mother. (of course she already knows). I am looking forward to it.

Being a Father has been the greatest change of experiencing life on this planet I have ever under gone. Now I live for others. They rely on me, and my wife,  she focuses on their care. It’s a decision we have made. Our Priority. I take this role serious, more than any other role I have, and as a son I made a commitment to my Father two days before he passed that I will always look after Mother to.

This Poem I wrote when we had hugged for the first time that I remember. My Father told me once when we talked about that Hug, that he remembered being picked up once by his Father. He recounted his father picking him up and placing him on a bike. It was only in reflection that I thought that he would have been facing away from his father even then. That always stayed with me.

These days one of my greatest delights is playing with my two boys. Every time I do yoga after walking they climb all over me. Quiet moments at the end of the day when they lay on me and we watch cartoons. Touching them, wrestling, hugging them, being close I think is so important for boys. If we learn it when we are young, then we can get the need met for touch in more appropriate ways as an adult too. I want my boys to grow knowing that it is ok to be affectionate, loving, and supportive to both men and woman. That this is being a man.

So on the eve of my own Father’s Day, and in memory of my Dad, Alan Stokes here is Older Now.

Older Now.

We are older now.

My lines are beginning to match his.

We have talked of prostates, and old mates

Like it was not possible before.

He hugged me at Christmas.

We had talked about it,

And although it was not requested,

Just gestured.

I felt it melt something in my heart.

It was uncomfortable for two though,

For we did not know what do.

For both our Fathers

Had never done this before.

Since then, when we meet,

It is with uncertainty.

My one hand goes out to meet his two spread wide,

And quickly we reverse the positions

Only to fumble into each other’s arms

Friendly strangers,

Who share the same history.

Although mine is much shorter than his.

He asked me to go bush soon,

Just me and him.

I’m excited,

 but I don’t know where to begin.

So many questions.

Yet I have been fed silence for so long

That I am scared of the consequences of truth.

We are older now,

His hairs gone grey,

Some fallen away.

To his surprise I got my cut the other day.

Look more like a man he did say.

Everything changes to our dismay.

So we are going Bush, and who would think

My heart would long to be in sync

With a man I had run from as fast as I could

Away to adulthood, to prove that I could.

Now I know I share mistakes I’ve made,

From plans a wreckless youth outlaid.

He understood for he made the same,

He only tried to shield my pain.

So here we are, older now.

Each facing off a sacred cow.

His life is coming to an end.

Mine is taking another bend.

And we’re going Bush to find some Gold.

He’s going to teach me some things he knows.

And I am finally willing to learn instead,

Of thinking that I know it all.

S.J.S.

A Gift from the Cook. The Mother Son Dynamic. John lee and more

A Gift from the Cook-The Mother Son Dynamic.

Sitting here tonight I have been enjoying reading The Mother –Son Dynamic by John Lee. By enjoying I mean I am identifying with the premises of the book, and grateful that over the many years I have been in recovery I have made some mighty progress in becoming the man that I wanted to be.

A major part of this journey has been healing the wounds I received in child hood, and I found it necessary to work through my Father –Son wound and my Mother –Son wound. To cut a very long story short, in my case, the end result of the work was a compassionate accepting loving relationship with both my mother and father. After one of my conversations about the past with my mother, my initial questions regarding my past with mother, led her to pulling out old photo albums, and sharing with me stories of her youth. Some hours passed, and when she was packing away the albums she said, “I’m not sure you got what you came for”. I replied, your right mum, but I got what I needed! I meant it to. Recovery had taught me to be spontaneous, live in the moment. When I started that moment with her, I had an agenda, but I let that go once we started talking, something bigger and better for me emerged in that conversation.

By the time my father passed I felt closer to him, and I know he felt closer to me. With my mother, I don’t feel resentment any more, That was a major gift, as I resented her enormously, and unconsciously it was playing itself out in every relationship I had, with the women I loved, and with any women that was angry and controlling that I came into contact with. I was never able to protect or contain my reality. It was exhausting. These days , with my wife, and women in my life, its nearly a dream, to not be driven by fear, shame, anger (Rage) and resentment.

In the book, John outlines some of the tasks a man can do to discharge his anger in a safe and appropriate way. I first heard these techniques in one of John’s workshops, and from his book, Facing the Fire. Towel squeezing, walking briskly, punching bags. All tools I have used and taught. But he mentions getting out into the wilderness, allowing yourself to get “Wild” I remember when I had got to my moment in recovery, where I had to make that decision, to head to the wilderness.

I had been asked to write an opening song for a 12 step convention. I of course said yes, but as the convention got closer, I had to admit, that I had not written a song or poem for a long time. I was stuck. My energy flow was trapped. I didn’t fully understand what was happening, and these books and tools I mentioned, had not been written. My therapist was taking me through my Family of Origin work and all this emotion was coming up, but I had nowhere to put it. I decided that I needed some time alone, so I went down to my parent’s caravan at on the South Coast of N.S.W, a beautiful spot called Gerroa. Early Saturday morning, I hired a canoe, and went up river, I found a very quiet spot, then proceeded to gather branches off the ground and put them near a fallen tree trunk. I sat then for awhile and allowed all the anger that I felt about my mother to come to the surface. It was dark, monstrous, and black and rage full. When I bear it no longer, I stood, and started to break the branches over the trunk. I screamed all the abuse I  could muster, unedited, unashamedly, furiously. I screamed and bashed branches till I had absolutely nothing left.

I sat there for sometime. I felt different. I felt weird. Time seemed different. Eventually, I got in the canoe, and paddled gently, up the stream. I was barely in reality. But I was really present. Like I was looking at things through new eyes. I had gotten the canoe so far up the stream that it narrowed so much I could not turn it around, and I looked into the trees, it was early morning, and there was 1000’s of spiders in webs in all the trees. It was mesmerizing. Breathtaking, and I was fully in my body, in the moment. This felt really new. Strange. I took a moment, but eventually it frightened me a bit, and I backed out of there, and then paddled back to the site. It was beautiful on the river, I took everything in. That night I dreamed, and I realized I had not dreamed like that for along time, and then the next day I wrote two poems. One was about the spiders,and another about the Pelicans on the river. I could feel that the energy was unblocked. I went home,and not only did I write the song for the convention, I wrote over the next five years, The Window to the Journey 1,2 & 3. Songs, Poems and stories about the journey of recovery. That first album came out in 1996, and next year I will be releasing the albums together with a new album as I will be celebrating 30 years since I  have been travelling on the recovery road, all going well, a day at a time.

The words that John writes in the Mother Son Dynamic will be a compass for a whole other generation of men starting on their own road to masculinity and I want to honor John Herald Lee for his courage, integrity and commitment to speaking his truth, a truth spoken so well and clearly it has been a calling to many men to stand up, and grow into the men that we want to be, that our families and community need us to be.

Following is a poem from that series that I wrote many years ago, as I confronted the enmeshment that I experienced from my own mother, and the impact of the avoidance of my father.

It’s titled a Gift from the Cook, and I dedicate it to John Herald Lee.

A Gift from the Cook.

How long has my worth been determined by others?

My need to be needed,

Reflects my self perception.

It seems to be the only substance to fill this hole.

To make me complete.

Yet I have always been empty.

The approval have always been an illusionary filler,

For I remain always trying to fill the same hole.

Showing people I was worthy of their need.

And keeping them needy.

For if they grew beyond that place,

What would become of me?

To my mother I was a possession.

She needed me to need her,

So she could feel special,

Whole and complete.

And I grew to need her love, approval and protection.

Yet, there was something wrong.

An anger or resentment,

At my acquired need.

Like it sucked at some life blood that did not exist.

A hunger that was induced,

But no food could be supplied.

 And as the years have  past,

I have lived with this constant hunger.

To be needed or not feel complete.

And for the women of my life,

They served the same meal,

And for a while I enjoyed.

But somewhere the food soured,

And the hole inside grew to the size of a cavern.

My wife found she needed herself more and left.

My mother just grew tired,

And occasionally just turned off the stove.

And now I am alone,

Me and my need to be needed.

And for my father,

Who sat for my entire life

A spectator to this feast,

Resented me.

For I ate his food, from his wife,

And many times he went hungry.

And now we live many universes apart,

And speak very different tongues,

Both with a hole,

A gift from the cook.

S.J.S

Saturday Night, Home and Family

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels

I don't know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels

I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through

Looking into their eyes I see them running too

Jackson Brown

Its Saturday Night, been a big week,all peeps asleep, been a big day of important sand castles, cartoons and Super Mario.The week , well opportunities to learn with kindred spirits, inspired by others turning from Shame to Grace, and a bright flame extinguished, way to soon .

No text books right now, just YouTube trawling great songs of my youth. I have loved so many great bands. I gave up early worrying about what others thought about what I liked. If it moved me , I couldn't help it. That was a big thing to , the not worrying, it rarely happened in any other area of my life.I loved everything from The C;ash To Kiss. To many in between to mention here. I found this song tonight. Always loved the bridge, the last two lines of it. The fear, if you look , you can see, but keep breathing, loving, living, praying like its up to God, and working like its up to you.

Today I was walking with my son Maverick, he was holding my hand, walking and talking. My heart could have exploded . He is so beautiful. He is from me, in me now always.He has come through me from a universe I am humble to admit I know so little about. What a gift, I cant think of a greater gift, a child's love.

I am glad for recovery. It tells me I am not perfect, that it is human to need support, love, care, all the way through, daily. I rang a good friend through the week, a father himself, asking him fathering questions. He is an initiated man in recovery. He was loving, straight, clear and honest with me. I am grateful to know that no matter how long you are on this planet, it is ok to reach out.

So , Tonight, I sit home, grateful for the rest , grateful for this home, grateful for the recovery that is the foundation of my life, grateful for all that have answered the phone to me, that have had cups of tea after meetings, gone for those long walks, weekend retreats, spent days at conventions, nights after the meetings, hanging to the wee hours, well tonight, I thank you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnnL8wEDNJM

Trudging the Road to your Happy Destiny. PTSD and CPTSD Grand Round for South Pacific Private.

"Our bodies don't run from danger because we're afraid - rather, we're afraid because our bodies run."

- William James 1884.

Today's Grand Round went really well. There was a great group of professionals and good presence in the room. I was to present with our Medical Superintendent, Dr Ben Teoh. Ben has many years experience working with Complex Trauma and PTSD from shock Trauma, and gave the opening presentation.
Dr Teoh covered comprehensively the DSM IV & V definitions of Trauma and highlighted their deficiency when dealing with clients symptoms who present with Complex Trauma issues as a result of Childhood Trauma.  He presented statistics from the Adverse Childhood experience study, and linked it to Dr Bessel Van Der Kolk's proposed Developmental Trauma Disorder diagnostic criteria, making the point that Developmental Trauma is still very prevalent in families today.

 I had the pleasure to then link SPP's treatment model , and how we have been incorporating the Body Focused Treatment modalities  of Pat Ogden, Peter Levine, Bessel Van Der Kolk, Dr Allan Schore and Dr Stephen Porges and how they have been very complimentary to Pia Mellody model of developmental immaturity that we have been working form at South Pacific Private.

For many years we have addressed the two recoveries that are suggested by Pia Mellody at the Meadows Arizona at SPP. Firstly, the recovery from our Secondary Symptoms , especially the Addiction Issues, Mental Health Issues and Physical illness. The the second recovery is from our history. The Developmental Trauma that has left a lasting affect predisposing us towards the secondary symptoms. For recovery to take place we need to work on both fronts. Fortunately this day and age there are more resources than before to seek support for addiction and mental health issues, but the recovery from our history, and the immaturity it leaves us to live in gets largely overlooked. Leaving clients in states of Negative Control issues, Resentment and Rage issues, Spirituality issues, Enmeshment and Avoidance issues, deep problems with dishonesty, for example not being able to truly share their reality with others with out feeling any Toxic Shame. All this protected by defense mechanisms that initially saved us at the time of the trauma, but leaving us in our adult life disconnected from our viscera, in a way inhibits any connection with self and others. Also leaving us with regulation issues that promote the trigger a pathological relationship with mood altering substances or behaviors.
Fortunately treatment for both is available at a level that we now have evidence leads to change in the brain in regards to neuroplasticity and the malleability of the existing structure. Extraordinary.

It does not mean that it is easy. As a survivor myself I was encouraged reading Pete Walkers book "Complex PTSD, from Surviving to Thriving". I resonated with his shared experience. For many years I have used walking and stretching to get me in touch with the Body that I disconnected from in childhood due to the Toxic Shame and visceral discomfort I felt being connected to the stress when I felt triggered. It has always felt better when I was finished, but the act of doing  it always took commitment. I use to think it was case I was unmotivated or lazy.
 It was pointed out to me by a mentor that I was the most unlaziest person they had ever met, and they suggested it was fear and shame as I was connected to myself. They were right.

These days when I am travelling well, I do it, feel better after it and see it and mindfulness as essentials to my well being and CPTSD recovery, and part of my 11th Step practice that is my insurance policy against relapsing. Pia Mellody quoted the phrase that in recovery we are " Trudging the road to our happy destiny". That is an apt saying, however words will never encapsulate the reality of the complex difficultly of trauma recovery. "John Bradshaw stated that when we experienced the Toxic Shame core firing in an attack , that it was the "Intolerable experience of being". If you let that statement wash through you, examine it at depth, that comes closer. 

In we attempt the two recoveries, it will get worse before it gets better, but it will get better, in most cases better than you could ever know. 

Spiritual Journey

Here is a song I wrote many years ago, it's a spiritual song, it was for a record of spiritual numbers that celebrated the spiritual awakening that can happen when you work your program. I have been Baptized in recovery by the honorable Greg Hirst, I have studied the Great Spirit and carry pipe under the teaching of Annie Whitefeather, I have sat in Darshan in Puttatparthi India with Sathya Sai Baba. All of these experiences are part of who I am. I do believe though its the 29 years of sitting in 12 step meetings, hearing the hearts of others, and sharing mine that has shown me the face of the creator. All the rest saved my soul, the rooms though saved my life. I am grateful to be on the road of recovery, with a spiritual awakening guiding the way. Thank you to all my teachers, sponsors, sponsee's, colleagues , peers, clients, and friends I haven't met yet. My wifes daily devotion to our children, and the beautiful spontaneous nature of my beautiful boys Marshal and Maverick and opened a deep love in me I never thought I could even feel.What a blessing this all is. Be gentle with your hearts.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViqHj7Icbcohttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViqHj7Icbco

Mentors are for life

Today I wanted to be in Dallas Texas starting the CSAT training with Patrick Carnes, but instead the Universe has me here, at the picturesque South Curl Curl surf club teaching Module One Training on behalf of South Pacific Private, based on Pia Mellodys Post Induction Therapy Model. Today I honour Joanna Mills, Wes Taylor and Earl Cass. Three Americans that taught this to me from the heart, and it changed my heart forever. Life is what happens when your busy making other plans"

Mums Turning 85.

Well, Mum turned 85 this week, second birthday without Dad. That is big seeing they were married for 60 yrs. I have traveled with her for over 50 yrs. Through her mental illness, my drug addiction and recovery. Lots of ups and downs.

I wrote this poem for them, after we had done a lot of healing about the stress and trauma of my early years in that house. It was a house that suffered in pain, but not a house without love. My mother was in an out of hospital for Bi-Polar, at a time they just bombed you out on Medication, and tried to fry your brain. Even she knew it wasn't working and just willed herself off it all and went it alone. She is a woman of great courage and conviction at one level, and what Dr Stephen Porges and helped me explain the bits she was powerless over, the extreme reaction to her own trauma. Parents that parent with Complex Trauma Disorder do the damage they fear was done to them.What we know now, they didn't know then, so good for her that she just said that's it, I'm gonna fight my way out of this thing.
 I am changing my family legacy, the one they they inherited.The one I inherited from them.

My father never understood it, but think he respected me for it before he died. He knew I would look after Mum. I had his value system. I have been thinking of him lately. I have a poem just for him coming up soon. But today, we head out in the soccer mom car, to eat at the same table I have had Christmas at for 51 years. Its familiar, Its my family.

 I have had to create a family of choice to grow and survive, and I am grateful for my Family of Creation as Jen, Marshal and Maverick have changed my life forever.
I still have battles. I also have many years of knowing that there is creation in the love and care of others, friends and strangers. I just have to make a decision to avail myself to this love.

So Happy Birthday Mum and Thank You for everything.

Thank you. ( To Mum and Dad)

Thank you for Kisses and Band-Aids
Pancakes on Sundays
With Lemon and Sugar and Love

For soccer and new boots
Training and tracksuits
And always getting me to the games on time

For saving and holidays
John Denver and jet planes
Hawaiian skateboards and Disneyland

My first day at school
When you walked away from my world
And I swore that I would never talk to you again

Being doubled to school
On your old postman’s bike
Before I knew it was uncool!

For Birthdays and cakes
Fresh and home baked
And never forgetting not one

Plum Pudding and Santa
Opening presents in pyjamas
And the importance of gifts
Wrapped in love

For lying about Santa
The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy
Knowing eventually I would find out
They were real.

Thank you,
For teaching me there’s love after arguments
For staying together
When it would have been easier
 To just leave

For loving me,
When it would have made sense
 To throw me out.

For a sense of duty to Family

Dad,
Thank you for showing me the meditation of washing up
To give an honest day’s work for a day’s pay

For showing me how to be romantic
How to hold a woman when she is crying

For backyard test matches
Soccer ball catches ( Im a Goalie!)
And digging the hole for the pool

For B.B.Q’s, watching the news
Being decent and driving well.

For my first guitar, leather Jacket
And letting me play music way to loud

For adopting me, and treating me like your own
Not letting me leave, when I wanted to go

Thank you,
 For turning up, to truth
And for listening, and seeing me,
 Accepting and allowing me to be me,
And the man into which I have grown.