What a wonderful cruise to the Baltics! I've been back since July 2, and it's taken me this long to get back in the groove. Oh, I've done what I really had to do, like reminding people of our up-coming JustFaith+ meeting at church on July 14, but for the rest, what I have really wanted to do was win the lottery so I could then just hang out and read. The lottery hasn't materialized, though, and I am beginning to feel the energy again. I have Dr. Dimitri Didaskalou to thank for that. He is the acupuncturist on the Eurodam (Holland America). I've been afraid to say it out loud, fearing some kind of jinxing phenomenon, but today I'm feeling confident enough to come out with it. Yes, on shipboard it cost top dollar, but I do believe my three acupuncture sessions have freed me of my insomnia. And if for some reason it doesn't hold, I am confident I can go to a local acupuncturist and get a booster pin.

I need energy, 'cause I've got to keep following up on the press releases about Mrs. Job. I really want people to know about her. I continue to get really nice compliments from people who have read her, and I know of book clubs and bible study groups who will be exploring her in the Fall. But nothing will happen if I don't get on the marketing stick.

I'm pleased to have had a couple of requests to do interviews on "When to Forgive." Of course I don't see clearly, but as far as I'm concerned, it is one of the best books on forgiveness, incorporating so much of what people have said and researched. I believe, also, that my book is the only one that has a chapter on "The Case Against Forgiving." I keep hoping...

As for the cruise. There are some highlights. First, I think I bored Doug to the point of exasperation in Copenhagen and Stockholm with "I have a picture of that." The fact is, much is still the same as it was in 1955 when I made the trip to Sweden and Denmark with my folks the summer before I got married. It's not really surprising that buildings survive, like the stock exchange in Copenhagen. What did surprise and please me was the fact that the Nordiska Companiet is still one of the largest (or the largest) department stores in Sweden. That's where I bought my stainless steel flatware in 1955. Unlike Dayton's in Minnesota, or G. Fox & Company in Hartford, Connecticut, that store has not disappeared into another name. It's hard to explain, but it gave me that accordion feeling -- so far away and yet so near.

We saw some stunning palaces. I was particularly interested in the enthusiasm with which the Russians showed off those remnants of the Czars. I also boringly repeated my travel theme -- "You've seen one palace; you've seen them all." It strikes me that, with all the beautiful things in the palaces, its occupants must not even have known what they really had. I can't imagine how, even if they spent a day going from room to room, they could finger or eye every one of the beautiful things on display. By contrast, I was warmed and thrilled by the visit to Sibelius's home in Finland. It was a very nice wood structure on a lovely lake. What I loved about it was that he and his wife lived there, raised a family, supported each other, even as he wrote his beautiful music. I don't know any other way to say it, except it felt so "real." I had the same feeling when we visited the home of the Finnish artist Hekka Halonen. (Wikipedia says his name is "Pekka.") I confess I had never heard of him, but again I had that feeling of real people expressing their talent in a beautiful lake atmosphere.

The visit to Estonia was one we had eagerly anticipated, having seen the DVD on the Estonian people's winning their freedom from the Soviets without violence, but through song. It was impossible not to be moved by the visit to the music shell where some 5000 people had dared defiantly to sing their national music at the once-every-five years festival.

Of course, the cruise in general was sheer luxury -- the kind of thing that makes me aware of how very fortunate I am, and how I wish life would improve for all the suffering people in the world. And I didn't even spend all of my $20 gambling money set aside for the cruise. With Doug teaching me how to play poker (on the machine), and the ups and downs of fortune, I had fun winning up to $13.50, ultimately losing it after several days of gambling fun, spending only $5.00 of the $20.00.

I want to do it again. Somehow I've got to see Italy. After all, the Italian heritage has enriched my own Swedish heritage, and made my children 50% Italian.

Thanks for listening/reading. I wish for all of us continued energy to do what we can to make the world a better place.

Oh, and I'd love to see some comments.

WHAT MRS. JOB LOVES TO SEE!

I'm including a couple of e-mails I received recently, just because I want to share my joy, and of course I'd like to hear more good stuff from some of you.

"I got Mrs. Job from Amazon and started reading it yesterday...and couldn't stop until I finished today. What a wonderful story! I wrote this review, which I just posted on both Amazon and Barnes and Noble. 'I enjoyed Mrs. Job on its own merits as fine historical fiction, but throughout my reading I was drawn by its wonderful potential as a companion work to the Book of Job. As a public high school English teacher who has taught the Bible as literature in Advanced Placement classes, having students read Dr. Affinito’s treatment of the life of Job’s wife before embarking on the Biblical work would serve to humanize and contextualize Job’s story, expanding it beyond what students sometimes narrowly perceive as a tale of unfathomable suffering. Through the author’s vivid prose, readers come to know Job the Edomite man, the loving husband and father, the “dissident,” through the eyes, and senses, of his wife who is, in every way, his life’s partner. In the tradition of the day, theirs is an arranged marriage, but one that grows into great love and mutual respect. No shrinking violet she, Dara questions what he does not, she rails against that which he accepts. The foundation of this interplay and conflict serves to more richly illustrate Job’s character (and faith) during his later trials. I parenthesize “faith” because, while the story’s characters are Biblical in origin, the story itself is timeless: Dara’s evolution as a person and the great joys and profound sorrows that punctuate her life resonate through the ages.'"

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"I finally finished reading Mrs. Job last week and have been waiting for it all to settle in before writing you, somewhat like a taste of something you love and it takes time to savor. I had no idea you could write so beautifully! A few things I especially appreciated were: your description of feelings of a maturing young girl; the relationship of two very close friends who even though separated never lose their bond and the concept of hospitality among nomads which, it never occurred to me before, is necessary for their very survival. The characterization of both Job and Dara as really strong individuals really makes the whole story very uplifting, even with all the suffering."

Now for some blatant marketing: A signed copy of Mrs. Job can be ordered by way of my e-mail, for one. forgivenessoptions@earthlink.net

IT'S REALLY ALL ABOUT CONTROL

As far as I know, I'm the only one who has a chapter on the "Case Against Forgiveness" in my book (When to Forgive). One big piece of that is my objection to the shaming effect on the part of well-meaning people, religious and otherwise, who urge forgiveness on people who have experienced an offense. It's also based on the observation that there may be other routes to relief and health. That's why I resisted the publisher's efforts to title my book something like "The Miracle of Forgiveness," because I felt the most important factor was having a choice.

At a recent conference, I found some validation for my belief that forgiveness (deciding not to punish) is not necessarily the only road to wholeness. The presenter was talking about his work with brain-injured people. Toward the end, he provided evidence of two cases of productive psychological resolution even though the physical disability was permanent. I found myself automatically assuming that each of them had forgiven the attackers who caused their severe brain damage. But when I questioned the speaker after the presentation, he told me that neither one of them had given up on anger and seeking punishment for the perpetrators. I hesitate in saying this, because I know this is a complex issue that does require a whole chapter, but I do want to jump off from this with some of my thoughts about control.

I've come to believe that being in control of oneself is the bottom-line essential for all therapy or other routes to healthful resolution of hurt from any source. Life's attacks disorient and disorganize us so that, in a real sense, we are not all together. Putting it this way is not very professional. but I think the key is pulling it all back together under our own control. (Notice that what I'm saying has nothing to do with controlling others, except in the sense of taking back control from those who are hurting you.) Quite literally pulling oneself together provides the energy to be happy, even joyful, and productive.

That means accepting the twelve-step goal of distinguishing between that which we can control and that which we can't and taking appropriate action on that distinction. The gift that forgiveness gives us is point number one on the bookmark in the previous blog: "As long as you can't forgive them, they are in control of your life." But that "can't forgive them" piece is complex. I think what it refers to is obsession with the anger and sense of unfairness, along with an impotent desire to get back at the offender. It was possible for the two people referred to by the conference speaker to regain potency by placing the anger energy in a reasonable place, fighting for legal justice. Life regained its order. I think that's what wholeness is all about. Just for the fun of it, look back on the items in the previous blog and look for the element of self-control in each. I'd love to hear comments and responses on these roughly conveyed thoughts.

THE POWER OF A BOOKMARK

This really is a bookmark, but I had to cut it into two segments in order to upload it. And I did want you to see it, to go with the story I have to tell.

Recently a local business man called me into his office as I passed by to tell me the effect of the bookmark on his life. Flying from Minnesota to the east coast for his mother's funeral, he was troubled by the negativity of the emotions he harbored toward her. To distract himself he was trying to read a book (not one of mine), but what caught his eye was the bookmark I had given him. He wanted me to know that by the end of the flight, after contemplating its words, he was calm and comfortable about his mother. Forgiveness had happened.

UPDATE ON MRS. JOB

This is sort of an afterthought. I tried to attach it to the "Riding in the Back Seat" blog, but my skills are lacking, and this photo kept showing up where it shouldn't be in that blog.

Just for a quick catch-you-up. She's doing pretty well locally. I've been told of book groups that have chosen her, and Bible study groups that are going to study her. I certainly don't need to tell you how exciting that is for me.

I've also had word from folks around the country who are recommending her to friends. Now, that's really exciting!

What I don't know is how she's doing out there in cyberspace. I guess I have to wait another month to get that information.

And here's some neat stuff I've been sharing with people as I follow up on press releases iUniverse has sent out:

I've been receiving some very positive responses as, for example, this one from David Burrell, Professor of Ethics, Notre Dame University and Uganda Martyrs University: "A lovely book: and a brilliant ploy - to contrast her relation to her friends with that of Job with his! Says something, perhaps, about women friends, no? Not always, I realize, of course, but here it so deftly fleshes out the story. At the beginning, I was worried, for the initial pages seem 'over-written,' in the sense that 'adjectives piled up can weaken the noun.' But, when you hit your narrative stride, all that evaporated. Thank you for such a lovely rendition."

Or this, from Pastor Brenda Legred of Mount Calvary Lutheran Church in Excelsior, Minnesota: "I just finished Mrs. Job and loved it! The dialogue is so real and so beautiful. The depth of relationships is profound. Thank you for gifting this book to the world."

And Sandy Rothschiller's original response, shortened later to fit the blurb on the back cover. "I don't just like this book. I love it. I could hardly wait to get back to the beautifully drawn, timeless characters. Dora is my friend. I know her. I am her. Even as I felt Dara's struggles, her sadness, and her joy, I relived the color, feel, and smell of the desert as I experienced it when I lived there. The life of the Edomites, so well-researched, is impressive as is the Biblical insight, so much more accurate than many books of this genre and so informed by the author's deep spirituality. More than that, this is the gripping story of a woman's love for her husband as they share great blessings and terrible trials. Placed in ancient times, yet it is today's love story. Reverend Sandy Rothschiller, ELCA Pastor and theologian.

These reactions to Mrs. Job do, of course, delight me, and, to tell the truth, I'm happy to be consumed by "Mrs. Job" and "Riding in the Back Seat" because, if I didn't have my mind thus occupied, it would be too easy to get depressed about all the negative stuff that's going on in the world.

RIDING IN THE BACK SEAT

This is not the photo of a tragedy, but our Doug and Lisa in 1963, riding in the back seat of our '61 Chevy impala en route to our cabin in Vermont.

I couldn't decide which of my many projects to focus on here, so I chose the easy way -- just letting you in on what I'm working on. This photo is, in my imagination, the cover for "Riding in the Back Seat" which currently is just a thought on the tip of my brain and the edge of my typing fingers. Being very brave and lazy all at the same time, here it is. I'd much rather have the critiques at this point rather than later.

RIDING IN THE BACK SEAT

I’m riding in the back seat, but no one is driving the car. How is it there has been no fatal impact? Other vehicles scream by; fences bend as they barely avoid being hit; trees blow aside in panic; people fly about like cartoon characters. I’m glued to the right rear seat. No matter how hard I struggle I can’t make my arm reach far enough to push down on the brake in the front. In fact, I can’t move it at all. Nor can I move my body into the front seat to take over the steering wheel and apply the brake. I save myself by waking up.

As bad as it is losing control of the car, it’s even worse on other occasions when I see it from outside bursting into bright red flames. I save myself by waking up.

I did wake up. Those dreams are emotion-free memories now, as are those of octagonal rooms filled with ancient debris. Over time I cleaned them out and created a bright, white, sun-lit, fragrantly airy space for myself. Even the dreams of a royal octagonal table standing atop long legs under which is rushing a brown, fetid stream are gone. The water was purified. The dream was no longer needed.

Most of us, I believe, have ridden in the back seat of a driverless car, eventually recovering to take over the direction of our own lives. Some of us have endured the passionate, fiery explosion of the vehicle that carries us through life. Many of us, I think, have discovered the bright new parts of ourselves after cleaning out the old, untended debris in our hidden rooms, or removed the personal pollution that contaminates our life energy.

What I plan to say, however, is much less dreamlike. Besides being a psychologist who dreams, I am in many ways a walking history book. Some of you may find some glimmers of your own history in the stories I tell here. For now, let’s get back to riding in the back seat.

My first back-seat memory probably occurred when I was about 8 years old, or maybe I was 4. The fact is, memory is extremely fragile. Maybe it didn’t happen at all, and probably it didn’t happen the way I think. My father was, of course, driving, and we had been someplace fun. I assume there was an older sibling in the front passenger seat. In fact, both my big brother and my big sister might have been sitting in front, because there was room for three grown-ups in that seat before the drive shaft raised a bump in the middle.

I’m willing to bet that my friend Hallie was in the back with me, because most of the time fun things were shared with her. I was kneeling on the back seat, looking out the rear window when my father had to stop quickly and I was thrown back against the front seat. I knew my back was broken. Fortunately what we “know” is often wrong, as it was then. But I recall being very worried – I think we all were – about getting home and telling my mother what had happened.

Kneeling in the back seat? No seat belts? How could my father have allowed such careless behavior?! I was about four (or maybe eight) years old, remember? Some twenty-or-so years later, in 1956, I was involved as a Graduate Assistant in a weekend working retreat at Osgood Hill. At lunch at the retreat I sat next to a man who had done research on those relatively new car safety aids -- seat belts that fastened across the lap. He was convinced by the data that they saved lives. The general public was still pretty resistant. But he convinced me.

Still, in March, 1958, in a blizzard, as Lou drove me home from the hospital with our newborn Douglas wrapped up in my arms, there was no thought of a secure seat for him. I’m pretty sure no one yet had thoughts of marketing such a protective contraption for newborns. On later trips, though, we did enjoy the convenience of Doug’s car bed, which hung precariously behind us, slung over the front seat by a couple of hangers. (By the way, his crib at home wouldn’t meet today’s required narrow space between slats.) As Doug developed enough to sit up by himself, I remember driving with him sitting next to me in his car seat – just that, a little seat hanging by a couple of hooks over the back of the front seat. Some twenty-two months later, Lisa inherited those comforts.

Lisa remembers seeing, when she was older, seat belts hanging in our garage, to be installed if we chose to do it. Somehow, we did have seatbelts in our ’61 Chevy Impala. They can be seen in the cover photo of those two patient travelers putting up with the long trip to Vermont. They learned early on that the best way to put up with such tedium was to play for a while with the toys that were currently in favor, and then drop off to sleep.

It’s probably clear by now that riding in the car is my metaphor of choice for the joys, hazards, and responsibilities of varying degrees of control over our/my life’s direction. I hope you’ll experience little bolts of memory as you read my snippets. I’ve chosen to make them little fragments so you can pick and choose as you make your way through them. Besides, to be honest, that’s the way they come back to me in the middle of the night – or even while I’m driving/riding in the car.

Sympathy For Theater Folks

I always did sympathize with theater folks, but now I really empathize. Imagine spending months creating and rehearsing a show, with the nervous anticipation of opening night, only to have it panned and closed down in a couple of weeks. What solid personalities it must take to survive that attack on one's creativity and self-esteem. Oh sure, it's really bad for the pocketbook as well, but imagine the takedown as your own creative blood, sweat, tears, and anticipation are dumped (and dumped on).

I guess it takes the same kind of personal strength to be a successful politician. The public, like theater audiences, feel perfectly free to attack with destructive words. I really wonder, in a very personal sense, what it takes to keep on.

Or, on a more life-threatening level, what does it take to be Morris Deese of the Southern Poverty Law Center and have your life constantly threatened because of your dedicated fight against hate and the crimes that attach to it. In fact, I also admire the strength of the people who work to protect women's health at Planned Parenthood. And I know I haven't listed everyone, but I hope you get the idea.

So, why the empathy? Well, here's the story. Several people (I swear it's more than 7) have told me they ordered Mrs. Job on line. And when I follow the ranking for Mrs. Job at barnesandnoble.com, her numbers look a heck of a lot better than my forgiveness books, which pretty much hold up the bottom of the scale. But when I called iUniverse, I was told that a total of 7 books had been sold between amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, and orders from bookstores. The downer didn't last too long, maybe because Mrs. Job isn't my whole life, but I did get cranky and depressed for a few days. Then I decided that maybe sales records get delayed. I still also keep checking amazon.com for reviews people have told me they would write. Oh, is that using hope as a cure?

Whatever, I have really come to appreciate people who live with this kind of exposure to negative responses to their work.

I guess my better mood now can also be attributed to the fact that I think I have pretty much mastered my new Palm/Verizon phone. Whew! And the emergencies that came up with my billing program, costing a couple of hours of telephone time, and other computer related problems, have been resolved -- at least for the moment.

So now I'm free to do other stuff, like write this blog, and follow up on the 186 press releases sent out by iUniverse re Mrs. Job. I also plan today to check on the possibility of getting a tote bag with a photo of Mrs. Job's cover on it. I've already updated my brochures. I read somewhere that a best-selling author, on being asked what it takes to be a best-selling author, responded, "You have to be the best seller."

Thanks for listening.