Comments on: About Judging, or Not http://www.kamlakkapur.com/blog/2009/11/08/about-judging-or-not/ Tue, 01 Jun 2010 03:12:12 -0400 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.5 hourly 1 By: kamla http://www.kamlakkapur.com/blog/2009/11/08/about-judging-or-not/comment-page-1/#comment-2176 kamla Sun, 17 Jan 2010 17:40:12 +0000 http://www.kamlakkapur.com/blog/2009/11/08/about-judging-or-not/#comment-2176 I look forward to meeting you at Warwick's, Deneice! Thanks for the comment. Krone Kamla I look forward to meeting you at Warwick’s, Deneice! Thanks for the comment.
Krone Kamla

]]> By: DENEICE KENEHAN http://www.kamlakkapur.com/blog/2009/11/08/about-judging-or-not/comment-page-1/#comment-2173 DENEICE KENEHAN Sun, 17 Jan 2010 15:42:01 +0000 http://www.kamlakkapur.com/blog/2009/11/08/about-judging-or-not/#comment-2173 Thank Gods for the women who weep for the world. Thank Gods for the post-menopausal krones and the premenstrual maidens who rain the repressed sadness, anger, fear, frustration. To Tears! DeNeice Thank Gods for the women who weep for the world. Thank Gods for the post-menopausal krones and the premenstrual maidens who rain the repressed sadness, anger, fear, frustration.

To Tears!

DeNeice

]]> By: kamla http://www.kamlakkapur.com/blog/2009/11/08/about-judging-or-not/comment-page-1/#comment-1357 kamla Tue, 17 Nov 2009 01:50:18 +0000 http://www.kamlakkapur.com/blog/2009/11/08/about-judging-or-not/#comment-1357 My dear Ahmad, your question has certainly showed up the hollowness of my wisdom. You are suffering deeply right now, I know, and can’t imagine what your reality is right now. To just find yourself nauseous one day, with a headache, go to the hospital, and find that you have an injury to your brain that you don’t remember how you got. Neither your colleagues at the office, nor your wife nor children knew how you got that deep wound. You have no memory at all of the trauma. When my then husband, Donald Dean Powell, committed suicide in August 1993, I was suffering deeply. Two houses down from ours lived an elderly couple with their retarded 30 year old son, Al. Al would stand in front of my house and for sometimes as long as half an hour say ‘why? Why? Why?’ in his throaty, distorted voice. It sounded like the sound of a wounded animal. It expressed my pain so accurately. I can still hear it as I write this, sixteen years later. The sound became for me the voice of raw, unredeemed human suffering. And I heard it again, in your ‘why?’ I have no answers for you, Ahmad. None. And I can’t mitigate your suffering in any way. You are essentially alone on this journey and must figure things out for yourself. It will take its time and go through its stages of despair and anger till you either heal or accept, or not, according to your circumstances and temperament. I am compelled to offer advice – I am wired to do so. Whether it is of any use or not, you alone can decide. I have known from my own experience that taking the path of hope and choosing to be calm and restful during crises can be very helpful. At least, it was to me. The words that helped me endure Donald’s suicide was my father’s gentle, loving, compassionate voice over the phone when I told him what had happened: take this lightly. As the days went by I floated on these words when I could have drowned. I still live by them and they have the power of mitigating a great deal of anxiety whenever I encounter it. This is all I can say, Ahmad, and I hope it helps. All the blessings of the universe on your head, sweet man. My dear Ahmad, your question has certainly showed up the hollowness of my wisdom. You are suffering deeply right now, I know, and can’t imagine what your reality is right now. To just find yourself nauseous one day, with a headache, go to the hospital, and find that you have an injury to your brain that you don’t remember how you got. Neither your colleagues at the office, nor your wife nor children knew how you got that deep wound. You have no memory at all of the trauma.
When my then husband, Donald Dean Powell, committed suicide in August 1993, I was suffering deeply. Two houses down from ours lived an elderly couple with their retarded 30 year old son, Al. Al would stand in front of my house and for sometimes as long as half an hour say ‘why? Why? Why?’ in his throaty, distorted voice. It sounded like the sound of a wounded animal. It expressed my pain so accurately. I can still hear it as I write this, sixteen years later. The sound became for me the voice of raw, unredeemed human suffering. And I heard it again, in your ‘why?’
I have no answers for you, Ahmad. None. And I can’t mitigate your suffering in any way. You are essentially alone on this journey and must figure things out for yourself. It will take its time and go through its stages of despair and anger till you either heal or accept, or not, according to your circumstances and temperament.
I am compelled to offer advice – I am wired to do so. Whether it is of any use or not, you alone can decide. I have known from my own experience that taking the path of hope and choosing to be calm and restful during crises can be very helpful. At least, it was to me. The words that helped me endure Donald’s suicide was my father’s gentle, loving, compassionate voice over the phone when I told him what had happened: take this lightly. As the days went by I floated on these words when I could have drowned. I still live by them and they have the power of mitigating a great deal of anxiety whenever I encounter it.
This is all I can say, Ahmad, and I hope it helps. All the blessings of the universe on your head, sweet man.

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