Author: Ingrid Rizzolo

The Writer as Conscience

Last week I posed this question to my students: “What is the role of the writer in society?” One particularly bright student said. “The role of the writer is to inform upper class people of what is going on in society so that they could bring change”.  I restated the student’s response in this manner: “So then one could infer that the storyteller/ writer is the conscience of the people”. He concurred. The writer Karl Keating writing on the role of the conscience says, “Conscience is the faculty which warns you that you’re doing something wrong — or neglecting to do something right that should be undertaken”.  My hope is that in some small way I could be a tiny conscience to others on the issue of domestic violence.

In the role of society’s conscience of sorts, I try to accurately describe issues experienced so that at the end of a poem or anthology a reader can at least say that the writer understands what I am experiencing. In my anthology/memoir I try to portray myself as a real person in a quest just like my readers so that my dilemma becomes theirs. At the forefront of my mind is to portray the universality of the issue at hand, and the dilemma of being human.  Thus as conscience the writer begins by being a mirror reflector.

As a metaphoric conscience I aim not to be a mirror that reflects to distort and sensationalize but one that brings clarity to the human condition. I reveal my life with an authenticity that makes me vulnerable to be misinterpreted, misunderstood or frowned upon. Yet I feel compelled to chronicle my experience with a fidelity that has the potential to convincingly expose the dark underbelly of the society and of the self. You see it is my belief that one only has what one gives away. In giving myself away like this and leaving myself open and vulnerable it is my hope that I could persuade others to make psychological investments in human kind. It is my hope to inspire others to bring the change that the student spoke of or at least to agitate to make that change happen. Certainly, I want to spur them not to neglect to do something right or to undertake that which should be done to address the situation

In the poem below I reveal how my life was shaken in the aftermath of domestic violence. In the process not only do I leave myself open to the criticism of others, but I become my own worst critic. Because I try to write with honesty and sincerity at the end of the process I see myself and examine my thoughts and become self-critical. Here is where writing becomes a painful experience as it is hard to face your truth. Even though you may want to take back what was written it is already written and taking it back does not make it less of the truth. Ultimately, I resolve the matter by admitting that it was my truth at the time, but I have grown away from that position.

In honesty I try to show the pain that was my life. As I look back on this poem I see the pain that was my life. I see the ugliness in me that caused me to question my faith- which is my center, and I feel ashamed. I see my weakness and I am critical of myself for allowing circumstances to move me like this. I am still trying to forgive myself for this error.

I hope the poem that follows touches hearts and minds, causes you to have opinions and inspires you to make a difference.

Crossroads

My God! My God!

Why hast thou dealt so harshly with me?

Why hast thou forsaken me?

Why? Why?

O God of my childhood,

sweet gentle Jesus,

I had not known you thus.

Why are pain and unhappiness

constant residents of my being?

God, remember how we were

intimate once, You and I?

I was the lamb frisking

in the green pastures of your presence.

We communed then,

You and I,

while all heaven looked on.

It was good then, so good, Lord.

Now visions of the grave rise

before my eyes and scare me.

Every moment I fear the end,

for in the menace’s eye

is the ominous presence of death.

7

And what is left?

A God who seems absent,

abuse from within and without

at the hand of a stranger—lover and brother.

Oh, my God, it never stops.

I’m the cornered fawn,

forever retreating

before the heinous hounds of hell.

I’ll be good, I say to the menace,

but that’s not enough—

nothing I do is ever enough.

I weep in the shackling gloom

Crossroads and similar poems can be found in my book Splendor from Ashes

Aggressive Ethnicities (2013)

Aggressive ethnicities,

not race but class,

jump-starts this vendetta.

Cain-envy, that’s the story.

Crying shame, Abel’s not to blame.

You are your own fierce pain.

Cataclysmic sounds

scream from your underworld;

guttural cultural sounds

destroy, in any event

stifle the great.

Camaraderie linguistics,

collaborative putrefying hums

imminent birth abort, distort,

noblesse threat to crush.

47

Ghetto halo winging it,

competencies unimpressive,

etymologies of insecurity—

unquestionably, Mafioso eccezionale.

As Narcissus, prostituting other love for self-love,

your reflection in the pool must see,

else soulless gaze transforms to worthless stones.

I, Perseus, have you pegged.

This and similar poems found in my book Splendor from Ashes

The entire poem and similar others can be found in Splendor from Ashes

by Ingrid Rizzolo

We seem to be predisposed to choose as leaders; the physically attractive, the charming and the seemingly self-confident. Many times, however, these outwardly physical qualities mask latent traits of self-absorption, egotism and the potential for oppressiveness and the misuse of power. Wherever this genre of leadership is unveiled it can be categorized as Narcissistic Leadership.

The narcissistic leader is power hungry perhaps driven by the need to compensate for inner powerlessness and lack of self‐esteem.  Compensatory strategizing is key to this type of leadership operations.  As part of the compensatory package, this type of leader self-promotes distinctiveness and evaluative positivity by inflating achievements and works to devalue the worth and competence of those perceived as threats. With boldness these bosses self-categorize as visionaries and transformational leaders, yet they disallow equitable exchange of information among their team or else manipulate information to discredit others to promote their own ego. The narcissistic leader cannot appreciate that there is a direct relationship between quality of leader- follower exchange and productivity.

Death arises with the ascendance of Narcissus bosses for they like Narcissus can only see themselves. For an individual to allow integrity to get in the way of bowing to the manipulative exploitation of the narcissist is to knowingly commit career suicide. Weak others quickly learn that they must prove their undying love for the Narcissus they must sacrifice their integrity and begin on an emergent journey to Echo status. All soon learn that nothing and no one gets in the way of this type of leader, not race nor homogeneity of any kind; for class ascendancy is the grail. Meanwhile the Narcissus boss would only allow for a scant acknowledgment of the Echo group who must walk on eggshells to avoid getting in the way of this Narcissus as he/she reflects on and perceives of his/her own self-importance. The narcissistic leader must see only see herself/himself reflected in the pool.

The above treatise throws light on the poem (Aggressive Ethnicities” shared below  from my book Splendor from Ashes

Aggressive Ethnicities (2013)

Aggressive ethnicities,

not race but class,

jump-starts this vendetta.

Cain-envy, that’s the story.

Crying shame, Abel’s not to blame.

You are your own fierce pain.

Cataclysmic sounds

scream from your underworld;

guttural cultural sounds

destroy, in any event

stifle the great.

Camaraderie linguistics,

collaborative putrefying hums

imminent birth abort, distort,

noblesse threat to crush.

47

Ghetto halo winging it,

competencies unimpressive,

etymologies of insecurity—

unquestionably, Mafioso eccezionale.

As Narcissus, prostituting other love for self-love,

your reflection in the pool must see,

else soulless gaze transforms to worthless stones.

I, Perseus, have you pegged.

We all have the right to chart and navigate the course of our own lives. We have the right to choose our independent course and not always be expected to sacrifice our needs and emotional well being for the security of others. Sometimes we may have to choose to  break with that which stifles our goals and our rights to self-determination. We take ownership of our dreams despite their quirkiness. In taking ownership of our dreams we do so propelled by a sense of inner locus of control, for we act in full awareness that we can exercise some influence over the events of our lives. We’re not powerless, neither will we fall back into blaming others for all that goes wrong in our lives. In fact we are even ready to act before the green light is given. We take ownership of the dreams as we are so persuaded by their potency and authenticity.

I share with you “Dreams” a poem from My book Splendor from Ashes

Dreams (2013)
I live your dreams,
and, oh, how I want to live mine.
Your dreams are not as sublime,
are not easy on the span of my mind.
Dreams, scientific, methodical,
incongruous weighty dreams—
your anchored and balanced dreams
sure don’t fit in with mine.
Dreams mirror the truer self.
My dreams are light and freeing,
infectious and idiosyncratic.
So unyoke my dreams;
my spirited bulls of Miura.
The truth is I would be fine
if you would allow me a slot
to define my own space in my own time,
to walk leisurely with the grace
to change my mind.
44
I need the privilege,
the easing out of tight ridges,
of ideas unprepared
and not quite decided.
I have the need to clear my desk,
without the burden of redress.
Get rid of the clutter,
and with each new dawn,
craft the path of the reborn
with dreams unplagiarized,
not borrowed, boxed, or generic,
and courage to revel
or put the gears in reverse.
I’ve lived your dreams,
and, oh, how I want to live mine.

………………………………………………………………………

The poem; The Abyss reflects the impact of domestic violence on the psyche of the victim. And, although this happened years ago I can recall the impact as if it were yesterday. However, writing provides catharsis and further healing for me and I hope it will do the same for other hurting people.

The Abyss (2003)

There comes a time

when you give and you give,

and then you can give no more.

So the decision is made

to do what you can.

But you being you,

you do and you do

and you fight and you fight

mercilessly.

You become estranged from yourself.

You step outside of you

and wonder who you are.

You find that you are a stranger

looking at your children,

and you are alienated

from the pain or laughter they bring,

for you don’t want to feel.

 Everything is being drained,

drained from you.

You wish that something would snap

and pop inside of you,

hurling you into oblivion

or to times of laughter—and soon.

You don’t want to think, think, think,

for thinking seduces you

and reduces you,

and you fall like a dwarf

before the Goliath of your thoughts.

Taken from my book “Splendor from Ashes” available at amazon

I will like to share the poem “No Entiendo” with you. It  is taken from my book Splendor from Ashes. It was written as I contemplated my journey with its various high points and fair amount of challenges and the seeming comparative inadequacy of my responses. I hope it sets you thinking.

No Entiendo (2012)
Then
gazing toward the horizon
with youthful investments of confidence that
in time we will understand. Get a handle on the puzzle.
Be better at strategizing
for living and loving and being.
Surely like fine wine wisdom will increase in the school of aging.
Surely early stumblings will decline
in the midst of the unfolding surge.

Now,
poised mid-staircase, we’ve still not arrived
’cause we’re still locked on the platform of reaching,
locked in the embrace of youthful yearning
for life’s beautiful things: understanding and clarity
which we no more possess than when we first began.
At the finish as at the start,
we’re condemned soldiers of the dark,
questing for that ever receding light.

Abstractions from “No Entiendo”

Abstractions from “No Entiendo”

The Inadequacy of Subjective Reasoning

Sometimes we think that insight gained as a result of overcoming one challenge would make the next issue we face more intelligible. However, when confronted with the next issue our learning proves to be inadequate and we are again floored. Is it that human reasoning is utterly deficient and therefore not to be trusted? Why is it that when we attempt to bring scrutiny to our logical processes by introspective analysis we still feel like life is an unintelligible abstract concept,  beyond our grasp?

As noted in “No Entiendo” it is logical to think that with experience in the process of time one would be able to accurately abstract the principles/rules by which to understand the puzzle that is life itself. Yet even with years of experience we shudder at the daunting errors we make as we seek to identify life’s signposts and signifiers? Why does life continue to be vague and ambiguous and largely undefined? Is it that life itself transcends any ideas we may have so that as the Bible says we are condemned to be “ever learning and never coming to an understanding of the truth/life?

Probable vs Actual

Since our journey seems, to be limited by subjective understandings then perhps there is really an objective understanding that we should be reaching for. Then perhaps we need to step outside of the subjective realm of understandings  so that we can access objective understandings. Access to more objective understandings can only constitute a real and fuller picture for arrival at greater mental clarity. Accuracy of arrival at this position should help us to more effectively determine causation and its effects  which need to be grasped in order  for us to loop over the tragic/empty  spaces that place limitations on our understandings. Only then would we be able to establish the difference between the probable and the actual, which are key to moving from the darkness of mis-understanding and the  unintelligible, to well lighted spaces of understanding.

From  Dr. Ingrid Rizzolo the author of  Splendor from Ashes

A new woman is born

The portrayal of women in the Black Panther movie seems to be aimed at confronting and redefining myths, and at questioning long held beliefs of causation in an attempt to engage in the reshaping of myths that contributed to the imprisonment of the female psyche. The female characters have strayed from typical textual representations of women. Stereotypical notions of women are ‘garbaged’ as the Women of the Panther break the calcified molds of what women are supposed to be. The women of Wakanda are not presented through the narrow lenses of virgins and victims, women innocent of worldly life, seductresses/vixens and old maids, witches and nags but as women of strength and empowerment who fight with and for their men. It’s a new interface from which they engage with their contexts.

This new militancy finds its parallel in the fearlessness of the women in the “Me Too’ movement which is recalibrating and hence defining for us the status of the new woman. This new woman possesses a fearlessness definitive of certain militancy that affords her the ability to stand up and confront the big and powerful patriarchy. Unlike the feminism of the past this is not a physical militancy but a psychological one. These women do not internalize the male idea of the feminine but create for themselves rejuvenated shapes and ideas that fit with their collective truths.

As newly minted social historians they refuse to settle for retelling of historical events from the perspective of being “othered”. They are re-evaluating and rewriting the stories they were forced to tell and accept as truths about themselves. Empowered by the stories of the collective as  they transact with texts of other women and share their own texts on social media a new woman is born. A new woman is born who is not ashamed to tell her truth or to own her truth, ridding herself of guilt in the process. Through this process of radical constructivism women are making of meaning from their collective experiences as they journey towards self re-definition. Hail the rise of the women of the Panther, the possessers of a new militancy!!!

Written by Dr Ingrid Rizzolo the author of Splendor from Ashes available at Amazon .com. Click on the link to purchase

To be continued