Wow emotional day. At noon I was on the Awakin call. It was meant to be that I listened. I cried for an hour afterwards. Because today's interview was with Gitanjali Babbar, a woman who volunteers with the sex-trafficked kidnapped and enslaved women and children in the brothels of Delhi. There are 4000 women and 1500 children living in 77 brothels. It is a hellish place of suffering, and she helps them. Every single act she has done is done with love. She started alone and now has over 100 volunteers. And it is changing things one woman, one child at a time.

She said something that hit my heart so deeply: "Be with them, in your own imperfection. There is no need to wait."

Suddenly all my fear seemed ludicrous, and all my paper tigers seemed to burst into flames when I thought of the daily degradation and terror these women and children actually DO go through. It's not just a maybe or even (like my fears) a remote possibility.  It is happening now, every moment. It is hell on earth.

Gitanjali said that for the first three years after capture the women and children are held in a room behind a secret wall and never see the sun or feel the rain, and I thought of my mind prison which created the same thing for NO reason at all. And I knew I could be brave again. I have been crying a lot today but "tears water the garden of our souls" (Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés) 

I was a prisoner and a slave to the twisted desires of some family members for 9 years, from age 5 to 14.  But I got to see the sunlight and the rain. I got to go home in between, and I never spoke about it. I couldn't tell my mom until I was 19. But this mind-warp (aka panic disorder/agoraphobia) that is still going on 40 years later puts me back there again, this time behind walls without sun, without rain. It takes every bit of courage that I have to go out my front door every day, but every day I try. I had no clear idea of how to fix it.  Over the years since it began, it has gone into remission with the help of books and support groups, but it is like a disease without a real cure. Now I know the cure. I must continue learn what real bravery is all about and I keep learning from those who are brave, and from those who help them. (My Volunteer Biographers is going to get lot easier: http://jazztizz.pledgepage.org)

I really recommend this call. The audio will be available soon as well as the blog thanks to our wonderful posse. ♥

I am not hiding any more. What I share I share with love, and my fear is not going to stop that. To prove it, despite this terror, I wrote and shared my song. I did my best, with love, and that's all that matters. I hope it helps someone. I wrote this:
 

If you've been through anything like ^ this, this song is for you. I wrote the music at 14 and rewrote the lyrics while it in a DV shelter in my 30s. The sound quality isn't the best, but I have musician friends helping me redo it soon. I wrote a lot of songs about this, but only ever had the nerve to put this one up so far. I'm sharing this because (as I wrote in another song) "If I could I would say the spells, sing your tortured soul from hell, take it from the beast who owns it, send him back into his own pit magic baby I have none to heal what was torn from the little one ...but I was there too. You are me I am you." (Magic, 1996)