CRONEVERSATION: I reminisce with old friend Claudia on how early relationships with our Dads shaped our lives with partners

March 20, 2026

Yesterday evening, I contacted my old friend Claudia, whom I first met in 1986, and who co-counseled with me during the seven-year period when I was concentrating on healing my own “traumatic imprint” from early childhood — the original psychic wound we all endure internally; and if we’re both fortunate and grateful for all experiences, no matter how easy or difficult, then sooner or later, not only will we feel courageous enough to allow our own original wound to surface, but to then consciously work to heal it.

Most people see therapists.

I work alone, while at times “co-counseling”  with a close friend.

To begin this inner work (the most crucial of my ultra long life), I named my traumatized child “Orphan Annie,” the little girl who, subliminally, felt utterly abandoned when young. “Inner child work,” we call it now. I was one of the pioneers, as usual.

 

Long story. In part, it involved me coming to terms with my own father, who was a strict, stern, German medical doctor who left for World War II nine months after I was born, and didn’t return until I was 2 years, nine months old. Meanwhile, Mom was so fearful he would not return that she fell into depression and couldn’t mother me.

As an adult, I was once told by one of my siblings that Dad said to him: “It took me a long time before I could get Ann under control.” Something like that. Not the exact words, but the word “control” is crucial: because that’s what I tried to do as an adult with every man who came into my purview as a possible partner! Not that I ever succeeded! Instead, I was frustrated: I just thought that I was attempting to work it through with that person so that we could successfully partner! In actuality, I wanted him to mirror me, pretending to be “in control” of myself, as my father demanded.

Okay, fast forward to yesterday, speaking with Claudia. And I must say, I’m patting myself on the back a bit, because I actually helped her for once, rather than the other way around. She said she had been ruminating on how every male partner she had in life was “wonderful, sweet, kind.” And she’s been asking herself now, laughing, each time: “Why did I leave him?”

We were both laughing at our younger selves. So much fun, at the age of 83, to be aware of oneself as the pulsing center of a radiating presence within ever-enlarging time-space cycles! Reflecting upon memories, noticing the glitches, watching them resonate, harmonize, grow, shift in importance with continuing exploration. Really fun!

So with yesterday’s remark to me about her partners’ invariably wonderful, sweet, kind nature, I suddenly spoke up, blurted: “That’s because your experience of your father was that he was ‘wonderful, sweet, kind'” — (and a “functional alcoholic” as she then reminded me, who died relatively young).

Wow. My remark blew her away. She had picked partners that reflected her dad’s qualities! About time the psychological/spiritual scales between us (which she has probably not even noticed) started to come into balance (and on the balancing eve of Spring Equinox, day and night of equal length!).

Because, were it not for Claudia’s continuous emotional and mental presence in my life during the time I was working with Orphan Annie, without her recognition of the the authentic self underneath the conditioning that had torqued me into a certain dysfunctional configuration, I wonder if I would have made it, intact! Likely not. I would have addled with addictions until I died, which would likely have been decades earlier than now. (Check tendrpress.com: essays on Addiction . . .)

What prompted me to call her in the first place yesterday, was an old essay that I had just read over again. I had put it in the Tendre Press archive, but now I see that it didn’t get in there yet . . .

“Well, Are you coming?”_

And while I’m at it, I might as well broaden the reflective herstory with, once again, an acknowledgement of what is likely the most crucial essay I ever composed. It was so then; it remains so now. In fact, I’d say this essay documents my coming to terms with the purpose of embodiment.

Again, is it in the archive? I’d better check!

Discourse on Love

Yes, it is! But I see tendre is spelled wrong . . . “tender. . .” so many glitches yet to iron out!

DISCOURSE ON LOVE

 

SPRING EQUINOX 2026: In this time of collective darkness, can I, personally, shine light? Can I hold my own center, balanced between extremes?

March 19, 2026

Two aspects stand out in the chart for tomorrow’s official Equinox date (March 20) and time (10:46 AM EST), when light and dark momentarily balance each other, just as light begins to overwhelm the dark:

First: that seemingly chronic Saturn/Neptune conjunction, now beginning to separate, but still potent, will feature the Sun, always of course at 0°00 Aries on Spring Equinox, and yet in near exact conjunction with Neptune, at 1°46 Aries. That dreamy, delusionary, absent-minded, constantly mutating planet, but now in fiery Aries — new beginnings! — still has us all flummoxed (doom-scrolling much, eh?) on a daily basis, even as the Sun declares that it’s time to rise and take charge of our own individual lives, no matter what!

Because, as you well know, in the internet age, and especially as AI and fake everything comes on-line, who or what can you trust? So why pay attention to any (so-called) “news” at all? What is real? Are you real? Am I? What IS “real”? And by “real,” are we talking Saturnian scientific materialism, or something more waffly, imaginary, idealistic, delusional? — Neptunian.

 

Then there’s the other aspect that leaped out at me: And notice that this one features a totally exact, to the degree, conjunction, between fast moving Mercury and the north node, signifying the direction of the path into the future, but . .  both in Pisces! That final sign of the zodiac, that sign that was finally overcome by both Saturn and Neptune, after, literally, years. Yep, we still have a great deal of work to do, to become conscious of, and articulate, all the ghastly sodden gunk that has poisoned the collective unconscious of humanity — wars to the death, child trafficking, blackmail, greed, on and on —

 

Out walking this morning, as the sun rose in the east directly in line with the path, I was reminded of all the those years in the past when I walked that same path on this date, with the same experience of the sun equidistant from north and south, at the midline. (I’m a day early, but the difference tomorrow won’t be noticeable.) So, wow, there are some experiences we can still trust to repeat on an annual basis? That, frankly, makes me feel utterly grateful.

Because, as you well know, in the internet age, and especially as AI and fake everything comes on-line, I repeat: who or what can you trust?

On the other hand, it does appear that the Neptunian fog of war in the Mideast features ghastly horrors, from anyone’s point of view. Except for chronic TDS’ers, the difference between opinions seems to be mostly centered on whether or not it is necessary.

Inside the horrors of our war on Iran, which yes, some say is utterly necessary (and well it may be, in the 80,000 foot view), I came across this post this morning, by friend and neighbor Margaret Menge, who reminded me that death by murder has been normalized.

(Ever since February 28, when this horror began (closely following the Saturn/Neptune conjunction on February 20), I haven’t wanted to even glance at what Charles Eisenstein has been posting, knowing the despair that would follow.)

How to maintain my own balance during these darkest of times? During these times when I find myself forcing my mind into an 80,000 foot view in space and time that utterly agrees with Trump’s policy to take Iran out “by any means necessary.”

 

This IS Spring Equinox however, so in our earth-centered cosmic view, light shall overcome dark, little by little, from now until Summer Solstice, and then retreat, also little by little, until Autumn Equinox, when again dark shall pull us under for another six months.

Dark and Light. Dark and Light within myself. Dark: unconscious or barely conscious, or utterly ignored because of cognitive dissonance, or just plain denied — “beliefs” (sourced from where? who knows where? Everywhere, in this chaotic media atmosphere), swirling through awareness, threatening, at any second, to overwhelm the light, that part of me that aims to link above and below, grounding my embodied self through feet on ground with head aimed directly toward the sky, sending energy up and down, up and down, both, over and over again, until they meet, in the middle, in the chest, the heart, which hopefully, can remain open and in love with continuous creation, no matter what or who presents itself in the ever receding, ever enlarging, present moment.

“Holy holy holy, lord god of hosts,” say the religious ones. And even I, who gave up on Catholicism, and all organized religions, nearly six decades ago, am tempted to pray, to pray that this world begins, at some point in the very near future, to move into the pulsing presence of peace on earth.

Meanwhile: Got this from old friend Carol Rosin today . . .

Carol, like me, is a crone who devoted her life to preventing the placement of weapons in outer space. Obviously, she didn’t succeed.