Archive for the ‘Relationships’ Category

Cluck — then duck.

And there, in that dark park — shark and spark — mark, their responses.

Oh the powerful, how they bluster, hulk, sulk and skulk when exposed. And if they can’t deny it, they mouth crafty-drafty-daffy apologies.

I hate it!

I asked you, “Why?”

“Why do you think that even after you complained, he or she or they or Ray — his supervisor or even, say HR — did nothing?”

You weren’t sure why; I wasn’t either.

Systemic evil, personal stupidity, good-old-boy culture, a bark beetle, a comet, tormented egos, black holes, massive incompetence, weakness of character, fleas — money?

We couldn’t sort it out.

Think about it, all the complaints lodged all over the world — then dodged. It’s maddening!

You do the same job as he does and get paid less? Really?

You are assigned work that isn’t even in your job description? Are you kidding me?

He said, what?


He touched you inappropriately?

My God!

He sexually assaulted you?


The thug!

The sick creep!


Go tell — in order to get well!

Yes, I can see that, and I’m so sorry!

It is horribly and terrifyingly humiliating! But to not tell — that’s devastating!

Prepare yourself. Do it. Of course there will be the denial. the revile, in the aisle, the social media pretrial, the counter attack and threat to sack.

But, keep this clearly in front of you:

Secrets perpetuate sicknesses.

For there within the sinister silence of relational violence oozes the foul psychic puss of false shame and self-blame, a suppurating sepsis of misapplied guilt and a fetid, festering biotoxin of furious fear mingled with ferocious anger.

My God girl!

The organizationally administered inflammagens are virtually dripping out of the open crack at the base of your skull, running off the tip of one of your shoulder blades and bio-trailing you along the office floor.

This cannot continue.

I want you well.

I want you healed.

I want you empowered.

I want you vindicated!

Therefore, fill the hall, and tell it all!

Make the complaint, lodge the grievance, file the paperwork, notify the press, call a conference, sue their asses off! Trap the fly, smack down the lie, out the tie, exposify — him, and hem and them!

This much is certain. We must not go on without you speaking up.

I’m standing with you.

Pellmell, raise hell, go tell!


“No” has a happy home in every wise brain.

What gifts, what endowments, what freakishly fine talents would have been kept from the world without a no to the cheapskate, the naysayer and the lazy bim, bam and bum within.

What successful child ever grew up without no, and the child who was never told no, never grew up.

What dieters ever thinned down or up without no to the sweet whining, seductive call of cake or cookie or calorie?

Which of the bent, twisted, cracked, crumbled, conflicted minds that ever breathed oxygen avoided the penalty box, the ticket, the firing, the expulsion, the drugs, the alcohol, the jail or the prison except by a few stern self-inflicted no’s.

No is needed, a lot, but not just no.

There is more to life than just no. Look around the edge or over the top of every high, thorned, hedged and conventional no, and you’ll see a lovely, nubile, winged, bright, book-toting yes looking right at you.

Run towards that yes yelling and waving. Yell, “Yes, I can! Yes, I will! Yes, I do!” For it is that very yes that has the power to replace old addictions, discover new habits, heal relational wounds and inspire fresh contributions to all the fine arts and the fine sciences.

For within each and every spoken yes there is restored memory, perspicacious reason and a super-gorgeous winged thing of imagination.

Don’t you know that every pen, poem, piece, pan, paper, piper, pean, pastry, panacea or panel ever pieced together has a joyful-howling pack of yes’s pursuing it?

No may be that mangy dog that must have its dutiful, flea-dipped day, but yes, drop-dead gorgeous yes, will drive the sports car with the top down, write the poem, paint the picture, eat the chocolate cake, kiss the fluffy cat, refinish the wood floor and host the latest, flipped over, hip-pity hop, hop, hop bop.

So feed that! Smack that! Yes, jump on that –everyday! Close your eyes and fold your hands and put your heels together and yes your own fresh yes five times a day. Eat it up and go back for seconds and then have a dollop of yes on top of your best yes, for dessert.

The yes within the yes of your own, sweet, self-affirming yes is your best inner guest.

No is fine in its time, but wise souls always fly the furious flag of yes just before charging right over the top of a no longer helpful no.

What hellish hurt hatches here.

Is that friend’s grin a fanged smile?

Is that saint, the poison landlord of the messy web?

Is that coworker a co-conspirator?

It is the most common thing on earth to pretend to be good when we aren’t.

There is a kind of crack that can open up between friends that leaks a treacherous toxicity into the sanctuaries of their souls.

And oozing through the self it trickles into the brain, drips through the jaw, sets the teeth on edge and poisons the tongue.

The henchmen are recruited, the meeting set up, and then follows the under-the-coat thrust, the old behind-the-back stab, the paper grave.

And so the world is again reminded, that deep within the soft coils of friendship may yet slither a fanged treachery, hissing in the soul, undulating through the mind and boring an oily and venomous tunnel into the heart.

To turn on the ones we once loved,

It’s a choice we each make, or not.