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About Peter Sanford Kahrmann

Writer, disability rights advocate, civil rights advocate.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Happy Thanksgiving to each of you.

I know there are years, time periods, when some of us wag our heads and wonder what on earth we have to be thankful for. Consider this, for a moment. If you are reading this then this moment belongs to us, to you and me. This moment is ours, nothing can take it away. And while I do not know each of you personally, I do very much feel connected to each of you. Your willingness to read what I write humbles me. I am deeply grateful and thank you.

While this blog is not the size of some others, I can tell you that its readership has doubled in recent months and it is now pushing around 1,500 visits a month. I hope some of what you all read here helps your lives in some way. I know being able to write to you, for you, benefits mine.

So, as you go through Thanksgiving remember something. If you find yourself wondering what there is to be thankful for, do the following. Find a mirror, then look in the mirror. The person you see looking back at you is something to be thankful for because it is you.

If ever you lose sight of how valuable you are, let me know, I will try and remind you.

Happy Thanksgiving! Please travel safely…

Peter

More Water

These are grueling times.

As many of you know I am in the process of getting back onto disability, a step I had hoped never to take again in my lifetime. In fact, I got myself off the disability rolls in 1992 soon after my mother’s suicide. But here I am again. Those close to me have rightly, and lovingly, reminded me that, It’s there for a reason, Peter.

I am in a very different place in life now than I was in 1984 when I applied for disability the first time after I’d been shot and badly wounded in a hold-up. I am, I think, more forgiving and more accepting than I was back then.

There are some I could, with great justification, sue. I have more than enough grounds and would likely win. While defamation of character among other things is not always easy to prove, it is if you have a drawer full of documentation, not to mention access to some reliable witnesses. Yet, despite the encouragement of some to go ahead and Nail the bastards, I’ve chosen not to. I think if each of us ran around seeking revenge for every misdeed inflicted on us in life some of us, those of us in the civil rights community for sure, would find ourselves doing nothing but. And then all our time would be consumed by bringing to heel those unhealthy souls in the world that lie about or bully others. Justice is not about revenge.

I have received some striking support from some extraordinary people. I’ve had survivors on fixed incomes shove a $5, $10 or $20 bill in my hand and say things like, Buy food, bro. We love you, you’ve always been there for us. It’s pretty special to discover that a $5, $10 and $20 can feel like a million dollars when given with so much love.

Then, of course, there have been those I would have thought would help and instead have fallen silent and still others who have said, Not to worry, we’re sending you something right away, and they don’t. I think people need to understand that people going through hard times deserve honesty and kindness from their peers. If you can’t help, don’t say you can. There is nothing wrong with that, and no one worth their salt is going to be upset with you.

There is something healthy about all this experience for me. Not pleasant, but healthy. Times like this right size a man (or woman). You are reminded that what makes you valuable is you. A woman I know taught me that Buddha believed life’s pain was rooted in our attachment and drive for material things, for they are what we are socialized (brain washed) into believing wealth is.

I know a man who died recently only days after turning 61. He was a wealthy man on the money front, but starved on the spiritual and emotional fronts. He told me once he woke up ever morning terrified, and so he would work from 7:30 in the morning until three the next morning day after day after day. Like so many of us, he was afraid to be with himself. I understand that because that was my lot for years. It isn’t my lot anymore, and the reason it isn’t has nothing to do with money or material things. It has to do with my sobriety, with being uncomfortable in my own skin, and having some good friends. This man was my friend once, and while our paths separated because we answered to very different drummers, we were ultimately opponents, I did love him and his death breaks my heart. Oftentimes you can dislike someones behavior without disliking the person.

I know some people today who are consumed with making money, being tough supervisors of people, ruling by intimidation; one fellow runs around telling the world he was in the Vietnam war when in all likelihood the closest he ever got to Nam was probably Newark. I know others who spew sentences of saccharin sweetness and compassion when internally they are neither sweet (remember, saccharin is a substitute for sugar, not the real thing) or kind. The thing that makes me feel good about me is that I know that many years ago I would have tracked down one or two of these folks and, as we said back in the day, caved their chests in, an expression I learned in reform school many years ago during a moment I was rudely, and painfully, introduced to the reality that the threat, I’ll punch you in the nose, no longer held sway.

The thing is, if the people who have intentionally wounded me over the past couple of years where themselves wounded in life and reached out to me, I’d go help them. Some might try to dissuade me, but they would not succeed.

Justice has nothing to do with revenge and revenge has nothing to do with strength. That is why the people I could easily sue are people I would help. Perhaps I am talking about some kind of emotional or spiritual non-violence. I’m not sure. I do remember that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Non-violence is like water. If you have a fire and you throw a bucket of water on it and the fire doesn’t go out, it doesn’t mean water doesn’t put out fire. It means you need more water.”
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FREEDOM’S ALLEY

In our days of street
running
island pirates
the world was ours
we had more loyalty
on the tip of our
nail bitten fingers
than those tie wearin’
white-shirt white boys
whose greed flung
them into darkness
tellin’m they were
on the right track

I’d rather feel
my thoughts for the one
I love than think them
I’d rather embrace
her than touch her
remember her soft breasts
the sweet scents
of love rising chanting
pulsing through the air
like gods on
olympus we were

All the world was ours
every sunset and sunrise
through the morning mist
our dreams and hopes
danced and sang
we feared nothing
in freedom’s alley
not knowing yet
how much there was
to fear in freedom’s alley
we swirled around lampposts
into wondrous mouth
on mouth embraces
singing our songs
with all our might
we believed in
everything

We knew nothing
about my history’s
bone crunching approach
the piercing heart splitting
that would pour blood
onto cherished hopes
drowning them into nothing
wiping them away
from our rightful
future on this earth
all our christmas’s
in freedom’s alley
to be never again
no more
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KEEP THE FAITH YA’LL

I go to places like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41xm0apzb1Q&feature=related

Reminds me we have all kinds of reasons for keeping the faith. Sometimes ya just gotta take the leap.

My best to ya’ll, enjoy the clip!

Peter

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A WALK INTO THE UNKNOWN

I am tired. The seemingly endless task of applying for disability, keeping the shelves stocked with food, the bills paid and my spirits high can be exhausting. Let me rephrase that. Not can be exhausting – is exhausting.

I am not at all unique in this experience. Some have rushed to my support in ways that both humble and dazzle me. Others offer lip service (see earlier post), and still others don’t lift a finger. And so it goes, as the remarkable journalist Linda Ellerbee would say at the end of her show, Weekend. A great show that aired for an all-too-brief period of time in the mid 1980s.

It seems clear to me that the key to any successful life management is acceptance. Life is what it is and we are each faced with the task of accepting the reality we are in. This brings me to the theme of this essay: acceptance. The art of acceptance, if you will.

Acceptance does not mean giving in. At times the idea of accepting something can feel like we are giving in, surrendering, engaging in an act of shameful weakness, but we’re not and it isn’t. Not even close. If acceptance is an act of weakness then why is it so hard to do? In truth, acceptance right sizes the reality we are in and, as a result, places us in the strongest possible vantage point from which we can manage our lives.

But why is accepting our realities so hard to so? I think there are several answers. One answer is habit. John Steinbeck said, “We are creatures of habit, a very senseless species.” How true. Most, if not all if us, know couples who are miserable together but stay together anyway. Most, if not all of us, know people who stay in jobs that make them miserable because change is big-time scary. Better the devil you know, is the tragically misguided tenet on those fronts.

I think fear of change is often our biggest obstacle to acceptance. If you accept something you then have to deal with it, which likely means change and change often requires us to take a walk into the unknown. And that can be scary.

But if we do this, and give ourselves permission to take a walk into the unknown, an extraordinary thing begins to emerge from the mist of doubt and step into the light of day. An awareness that we’re okay. We really are okay. And we are okay because no matter where we go, we are there. This emerging awareness leads us to a light that lets each of us see that as long you and I are present in our respective walks into the unknown, we are each our strongest ally.

Once this awareness grows and strengthens, the art of acceptance can be a welcome endeavor. You, like me, get to discover that while change is coming, you are staying, and isn’t that beautiful? I think so.
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