Joseph Carey Merrick; Written by Michael Howell and Peter Ford, Narrated by Steve West
Sometimes a book affects you.
You already know parts of the story Because it’s legend And you know it’s sad You just don’t know how sad And you usually avoid such things
And then you see That your favorite voice actor narrates the True History And it’s also about the doctor Who did good By a patient, a lovely man Whom the world had degraded and abandoned So you decide to endure Because you know the voice And you trust it to shepard the account With respect and dignity
And through the tragedy That almost brings you to tears Because how can people be so cruel How can one person endure so much And never harbor bitterness, resentment, or rage
Through all of that The line that shines most brightly That calls to your physician, helper, human soul Is one you have not heard in years When you should probably recite it yourself daily:
These days people expect Cure often if not always Relief, when incomplete, disappoints
And Comfort, well, what does that even mean In an age when physician-patient Relationship is defined more and more By transaction than by True and deep human connection
And yet Stories like this inspire, reassure and Comfort us Who do it for the connection Because in the end It’s worth every effort
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The True History of the Elephant Man: The Definitive Account of the Tragic and Extraordinary Life of Joseph Carey Merrick Written by Michael Howell and Peter Ford Narrated by Steve West
Due to horrible physical deformities, he spent much of his life as a fairground freak. He was hounded, persecuted, and starving, until his fortune changed and he was rescued, housed, and fed by the distinguished surgeon, Frederick Treves. The subject of several books, a Broadway hit, and a film, Joseph Merrick has become part of popular mythology. Here, in this fully revised edition containing much fresh information, are the true and un-romanticized facts of his life.
What a revelation, the first time Coach Christine asked me this during a session. It had never occurred to me to tune in to body signs of anything other than hunger, thirst, fatigue, and pain. In this conversation, c.2005, Christine asked me to locate peace, connection, and knowing. Almost 20 years later, the answer now is still the same: deep and central, between my diaphragm and navel but toward the back–where rhythmically mobile and unsung, stable body parts meet and coexist in dynamic balance–huh, I have never thought to describe it this way before.
“What are your body signs of stress?” “What do you actually feel, physically?” “How would your loved ones answer this question for you?”
I make these queries during clinical interviews to help patients recognize how their anxiety, fear, and agitation manifest. Often the physical signs arise before conscious awareness of their origins. It occurs to me now that localizing joy, love, connection, and confidence would also be useful. My inner peace and knowing reside at my center of gravity, now that I think about it. I feel it as a weight, though not a heaviness. It feels solid, centered, grounded, and stable–a substantive, resilient nucleus. I have used ‘unassailable’ multiple times to describe its quality–when that perception occurs, I know I’ve tapped into something important and profound, and good things often result soon after.
Our culture does not often facilitate or value this organic, instinctual attunement to body signals. We look to devices to tell us—how we slept, how much we moved—before we query and trust our own natural knowing. How ironic, that we seek intrinsic information and knowledge from extrinsic sources, without questioning the devices’ precision, accuracy, and ultimate relevance. More importantly, the frenetic chaos of modern life, coupled with the siloed and and non-integrated nature of ‘data’ from any given source, can pull us unknowingly into a vortex of statistics without synthesis. I see it as an epidemic of dis-integration. How much more self-aware and -regulated might we be, how much simpler and better our quality of life, if we just slowed down, got still and quiet, and asked/answered the questions above more regularly and frequently? That investment of time, energy, and connection could yield high returns, no?
What do I feel? Where do I feel it? What does this correlate with? What’s going on with me/us/my world right now? What does this all tell me? How do I best respond?
How do you relate physical sensations to emotions? This is the intersection of ‘sensing’ and ‘feeling’, in all senses (ha!) of both words. Fear causes an agitated vibration in my chest, a shrill buzzing, and makes me want to discharge it with mindless, moderately intense activity, like on the treadmill or ellipitical. Anger also vibrates, but at a much lower frequency (more of a thunder rumble) and lower in the body, in my abdomen. Relief comes from slower, heavier, stronger movement–lower body lifting and lumberjack/throwing motions. Love and connection feel light–both in photons and mass–my visual perceptions are brighter; my chest lifts forward and up; I feel lighter on my feet. In these moments, often after an Ethos workout or quality time with friends, I hear music in my mind, songs like River and and Granted by Josh Groban, Hallelujah and Amazing Grace by The Tenors, and Say It to Me by AHI. Listening to my Agape playlist while in this state sustains both the physical sensations and the psychological feeling of connection and love, giving me mental space and time to revel and reflect. Blog post ideas often emerge in this setting, the words flowing forth in torents of values synthesis and integration.
So this is what I wish for us all, my friends: That we see the value in attuning to our innate sensations, that we practice connecting them effectively with emotions and relationship, that we may trust our intuitive assessments and use this important information to regulate how we show up–to ourselves and one another. I wish for a confidence, an inner peace that emanates from that deep, quiet, grounded, unassailable place that makes us present, open, loving, resilient, and connected.
When/where/how does this already happen for you? How could you get more of it? What would that be like?
Oh friends. So much is going on. How are you this week?
When I posted about white male allies last weekend, it was not just because of International Women’s Day. For the past couple of weeks, the romance audio community has roiled in allegations and discovery of unethical and predatory behavior by one individual, a male narrator and producer, against women–authors, narrators, and fans alike. My new friends and people I respect and admire have been triggered, shocked, saddened and enraged, as well as attacked and dismissed for their experiences. It’s all so discouraging, so human. The allegations are numerous and consistent. Some of the person’s defenders are aggressive and do not refrain from ad hominem attacks against those who have spoken out. Comments on all sides have escalated and people are suffering.
This post is not about parsing allegations or judging a perpetrator. It’s an exploration of the complexities of effective allyship. It’s a lot more complicated than my post last week makes out, though the central values and tenets are simple and fundamental.
Messaging with a friend a few days into the controversy, I asked, “Wondering how any male narrators would be willing/able to step up as more visible, direct allies? This is always such a big ask… I would never want them to put their own careers or personal lives in jeopardy from any backlash or get entangled in unproductive arguing… I guess it’s a question we can all ask ourselves—how we can make the most effective positive difference in our own way, given our own circumstances… how much we are willing to risk, etc…”
So, what are the questions to ask when we consider upstanding and allying?
How does this affect me directly? Indirectly? How do I feel about it? What do I think about it (because these are different)? How does this affect people I care about, whom I respect and admire? How does this affect all of our relationships, professional, personal, financial, and other? What do I not know? What do I need and not need to know, to act? What can I do? What can I do? What can I do? What am I willing to do? What would I be trying to accomplish? Do I have the bandwidth/reserve/resources? What is my role here? What will it cost me? What will I be risking? What is the worst-case scenario if I act or don’t, and how likely is it to occur? What would that be like, could I handle it? What are the consequences for others if I act or not; could I cause unintended harm?
What core values of mine, of the community, are violated here? How can I best uphold and live into those values in this context?
What other questions do I need to ask?
Not all the questions above can be answered quickly or completely. Emotional overload can lead to knee-jerk reactions and do more harm than good, increasing the likelihood of regret and damaged relationships in an already fraught situation. The way forward is often unclear at first. So we must slow down, think things through. In the interim, silence may come across as indifference. Anything said or done, or not, may be criticized; no response is 100% ‘safe.’ Each of us handles stress and conflict differently. We must remember not to judge one another about how we engage–there are many ways to upstand, each partially ‘right’, and also likely incomplete.
Allyship carries cost. The first costs of thoughtful, intentional allyship are emotional and mental.
The next costs are relational, and then reputational, financial, professional–myriad. The more visible we are, the greater the potential risks of taking a stand, staking a position. If we hold a designated or implicit leadership role in the community (and I would argue that we all/each lead in some way, know it, like it, want it or not), our choices and their potential consequences are that much more complex. For someone whose livelihood depends on maintaining relationships despite conflict, costs can be high in multiple ways. Choosing between one’s ethics and paying the bills never feels good, and we never know when someone may be in that situation. We must all decide for ourselves, in real time, the risks and costs we can bear. Not everyone stands in a position to decline work or dissent safely. Conscience and context often conflict. We each make our own decisions, and in the end, we must live with ourselves—our choices, our relationships, our regrets. Judging others for doing differently from us serves no useful purpose.
Some have asked, “Do I have a right to speak here? Is it my place to say anything?” What if the problem doesn’t involve or affect me directly? What if I’m just butting in? I wonder if this is the question that distinguishes an upstander from a bystander?
The list of questions above, considered thoughtfully and with core values in front, can guide us to the words and actions that feel most honest, authentic, grounded, and appropriate. In my mind it all comes back to relationship. As an ally my job, my role, and my ultimate objective is to uplift and uphold my loved ones in distress. Allyship, to me, means showing up with openness, empathy, compassion, kindness, and respect. It means validating someone’s emotions and experience, regardless of my opinions about the situation. It does not mean prosecuting without evidence or attacking on someone’s behalf. In the short term, real allies breathe, hold space, and stand in solidarity. There is a closeness, an intimate proximity that includes eye contact, erect posture, and a deep, resonant presence. I’m here for you. I see you. I’m in this with you. Even if we are not physically together, true allyship can be felt this way across great distances. In the long term, allies work for systems changes that benefit us all. If we start here, tapping into our capacity for deep Agape love, then the words and actions are more likely to come from a place of real connection. As fellow humans, I think we do have this right, and it is our place. We are called to care for one another.
You are not alone. I see you. I stand with you. We are stronger together.
Costs of allyship are real. When we bear them together, the more of us upstanding in concert, we each pay a little less. We all benefit. Allyship is leadership with presence, openness, groundedness, kindness, and love. It shows up as integrity, accountability, and respect.
Practice giving grace. We are all humans, here doing our best. We all fail. Forgiveness and accountability are not mutually exclusive.
I know this post is already long, so I appreciate that you’re still reading. There is more! I write to clarify and document my own thoughts and opinions, to record my own process, so I may look back and see what progress I might make. If any of it resonates with you, dear reader, then that gratifies me.
Compassionate Accountability
I believe the people who have spoken out. I believe they were manipulated, taken advantage of, and harmed. I do not believe, however, that the person they accuse is evil, or in any way deserves to be threatened, dehumanized, attacked, or harmed himself, in any way. He is human, just like the rest of us. One of my core assumptions about humanity is that we are all here doing our best. So how is it that some people’s best is so hurtful to others? How are humans so loving and so scary, so constructive and destructive at the same time? It’s too big a question to answer; we can only live it, as Rilke says.
As some have pointed out in the past week, ‘hurt people hurt people’. I believe this, as it often explains so much. As a fundamental perspective, this default stance in the face of harmful human behavior holds our minds open to empathy, compassion, and forgiveness, which are what heal us, perpetrators and victims alike. We are all the amalgamation of our past experiences and those of our families of origin, traumas included, over generations. We all have our triggers and reaction patterns, established early and evolved over a lifetime. Severely dysfunctional behavior patterns root deeply, and the inner work required to modify or moderate them is arduous. I can hardly imagine how anyone could do it alone—heal and overcome, learn to lead with love and vulnerability—this is not do-it-yourself stuff, my friends. And yet one of the first things we do to hurt people who hurt people is isolate them. We judge, shame, dehumanize, and ostracize them, among other things. How could that possibly help stop them from hurting more, both themselves and others?
This is not to say that aggressors should not be held accountable for their actions and harms. Accusations and evidence must be aggregated and assessed objectively, thoughtfully, and in context. “Innocent until proven guilty” is another useful premise from which to proceed. Easier said than done, though, no? How many allegations does it take for accusers to be believed, for any of us to act on their behalf, to upstand, defend, and advocate? And what actions do we take?
Once again, I go back to the list of questions above. I need to be still, sit quietly, and settle into my own inner knowing. After tending to the affected, how do we address the alleged perpetrator? Separation and protection of victims from additional potential harm comes to mind first. But here is where we must beware of that fundamentally high-risk divergence—encircling victims in love and compassion, and basically throwing away alleged offenders—ejecting them from the tribe, irrevocably, physically and socially. The latter, while immediately gratifying, is counterproductive in the long run. In the end, some felons forfeit their right to live freely among us. Even then, however, their right to be treated humanely and with dignity is still innate and should be held intact.
Imagine confronting the accused calmly, kindly, and compassionately, and also firmly, calling forth their better nature to own their actions and the consequences thereof. Picture having fortitude and magnanimity, enough inner peace ourselves, to stoically withstand their defensive backlash, however vehement, grounded in solidarity and allyship not only with their victims, but with the part of themselves that also hurts. When I think about this, about the magnitude and depth of pain on all sides, the immensity of it all feels almost intolerable. No wonder we short circuit to ad hominem and violence. The overwhelming distress and anguish of holding others’ pain as well as our own, of being with all the darkness, wading into the depths—this is a cave of emotional and mental stress that few of us are experienced or trained to navigate. And yet, I think it is where we must go, a journey we must take, to get past the oversimplified, binary, save the victim/punish the villain dichotomy. I know some who have the skills, who embody this ethos of messy shared humanity, and who can teach and lead us, by example more than anything.
Hurt people hurt people. How can we help one another hurt less?
What does true allyship really mean, and how can we each and all achieve it? For me it is both acute and chronic, simple and so complex: It is about universal love. In each new situation when people are hurting, I can take it slowly, ODOMOBaaT–one day, one moment, one breath at a time–to determine how my allyship manifests best, appropriate for context and aligned with my values.
This narrator/producer controversy feels like an earthquake in the romance community. Or maybe a typhoon? Some felt the tremors, saw the cloud formations long before anybody else. Now it has hit, everything is shaken, and lives are altered. Here in the immediate aftershocks, we must take care of the wounded. First responders have mobilized, and some can only yet self-protect. We all must take care of ourselves first. Next, we sift through the rubble. Everyone is affected, though differently; our losses are unique as well as shared: relationships, valued possessions, assumptions of safety, trust, and connection. Emotions spiral, opinions fly, conflict escalates. The more deeply we can breathe, the more slowly we can speak and act, the better we will all be in the long run. With time, clearer, less loaded assessments may occur. Systems, guidelines, recourse can be revised for better transparency, accountability, and equity. Here we risk overcorrection, a hyperreactive response, all well-intentioned, and also counterproductive. Crises will inevitably recur, and the cycles persist. Alas, that is how we humans do. How wildly imperfect and eternally exhausting.
How else can we go but slowly, one step at a time, and together?
I have included below some ally statements that I admire. Please help me hold the romance audio community in peace and light. And wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, whomever you’re with, I wish you what you need to stand up on behalf of those you can help.
Watch Andi Arndt’s full video here; listen to her describe so adeptly the responsibility of artists who use psuedonyms.
Watch Sean Crisden’s Instagram video here; subscribe to his YouTube channel here. He is preparing a round table discussion, which he specifically states is meant to include a divergence of perspectives. I will try to participate in that.
Watch this heartfelt video by author Cheri Champagne, describing how she is affected by the narrator/producer’s actions, as well as by the backlash against him and his company. The ripples reach far and wide. Thankfully, the community is rallying and hopefully all affected can come through with the least possible damage and trauma.
Healing Through Connection 