[Laughing out lout] I am losing my mind. I am literally trying to type with my sweet puppy, Scout, lying on my hands. If I only had my camera right here - damn! She is no longer 9 lbs....but 16 and a good mid-size for a smaller dog. She's an armful when I need to lug her from here to there, so she's no small, 4lb pile on my lap like Mikey was (except he was usually under my shirt). Scout is on a pillow, on my lap with her head flipped over backwards looking up at the computer screen...that can't be healthy. Why, you may ask do I put up with such nonsense? ...'cause she makes me so happy...and she makes me laugh - done! Look at that mug...could you say no?
I had a little burst of that old "writer" compulsion earlier today and it felt good. When I was younger and flirted with the idea of being a professional writer, the image of feverishly scribbling while an unfiltered cigarette dangled from my lips and a tumbler of bourbon sat within my reach was in direct conflict with my real calling - a starched-white ethereal figure of mercy. Ok, so I'm a bit of a romantic-sue me. The part of my image of a writer that was accurate is when I'm gripped with that urge of, "I've got to get this down" - when I'm using the backs of parking tickets, church bulletins, or used tissue (yuk) to get an idea saved. I LOVE that although it raises havoc with my driving. I haven't felt it lately....not for awhile.
Why today? I'm not sure. It could be a result of a memorial I attended, on Saturday, of a 95 yr old woman who lived the DASH of her life to the fullest. You know, the dash as in November 4, 1916 - March 3, 2012. There is even a popular poem that has been written about it:
The Dash Poem
I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of his friend. He referred to the dates on her tombstone from the beginning...to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth and spoke of the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time that she spent alive on earth… and now only those who loved her know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own; the cars…the house…the cash. What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard… are there things you’d like to change? For you never know how much time is left. That can still be rearranged
If we could just slow down enough to consider what’s true and real, and always try to understand the way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more and love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile… remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy’s being read with your life’s actions to rehash... would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash?
by Linda Ellis
So, yes, that could have given me my little spark or it could be that I finished my final student conferences today and while I still have a few complex loose ends, I'm almost free for a couple of weeks. But I think it might have more to do with my encounter with a former student this afternoon. He told me that he'd stumbled accross my blog on the internet and that he was really moved by it. This is a very special person who has experienced some obstacles in his life - so what did he do?.....he went on to another challenge by deciding to go to nursing school - no easy feat. It meant a lot coming from him. I'm so proud of all he's accomplished. I am usually in that role of cheerleader to my students and here he was encouraging me. The teacher becomes the student. You know, I write these little drivels almost to myself and every so often some one comes from the shadows to sprinkle a little sunshine on me and it's then that I remember how good it feels. (Thank you sweet man.) Or maybe it was my own three kids who inspire me daily.....I think it was maybe me being open to all of it.
I found an old post of mine where I printed this quote:
“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes.” Charles R. Swindoll
This is posted on my office door at school. I revere the word "attitude" and, as I mentioned in that past post, for me it is second only to "love". Maybe it should be first because our attitudes can often open us up to love that we would possible otherwise miss. Anyway, I collect all sayings having to do with it: "Gratitude is an Attitude" and one that was the motto of windsurfers which was a sport our son enjoyed in his "before" days: "Attitude is Everything". I think of that often about him. I think that may well have led him right up to that LA podium Saturday night where he won the "Endurance Live Award" for Challenged Athlete of the Year. But one of my more recent favorites is "Attitude is the cure for resentment".
Grief is a dark room. It shares the hallway with other gloomy chambers like resentment, discontent, and regret. My spiritual self believes that the God of my faith will always be there to help us but it is up to us to ask. We can stand in a dark room all night long feeling sorry for ourselves for it's bleakness, but it is our responsiblity to reach out and flip the switch.
We wait for the miracles that we so want to believe can happen, but it is often the little ones that occur around us daily that we miss. The ones so precious, so vital, and so necessary for us to move through this thing called life. I've lived in the brightness of the sun for much of my life, very blessed and extremely grateful, but when the darkness shrouds it's difficult to remember what that warmth felt like. I may bump into a wall now and again but I feel so comforted in the knowledge that sooner or later one of my little undeserved spots of light will guide me to the switch. Thank You for all my little miracles....and for my three big ones.
Congratulations, dear son - you light up my life. You deserve it all and more.
The Prayer I pray you'll be our eyes, and watch us where we go. And help us to be wise in times when we don't know Let this be our prayer, when we lose our way Lead us to the place, guide us with your grace To a place where we'll be safe
Well, maybe it's just me, but they make me weep. ...and the words, for me...right now, says it all. Such beautiful music.
I'm trying very hard to get kick-started into this new year with thoughts, ideas (which are thoughts with a little more energy, I guess) and plans to keep my little buniony toes moving forward. It's hard work I'll admit. Committing, as always, is the problem but it feels SO good to accomplish something. Not easy to do when one is adept at making excuses.
BlOG NEWS I did manage to do a few things last year. I survived, for one...I thought that was a good one to start. The good news is that my Project 1000 (to rid myself of 1000 un-needed items) was successful. The bad news is that it didn't even make a dent :( ...so I'm launching a Project 500 to keep the momentum going. Hey - every little bit helps, that and instituting the buy one toss one rule (toss two is even better, but hey - baby steps). So, I've got that going for me.
Next up is my Progetto Italiano! Yep, I'm learning Italian - gotta keep the brain cells working. My daughter-in-love speaks the language (among others) and has offered to teach me but she's pretty hardcore so I think I need to get a small vocabulary base before I face her - we're on good terms so far.
In addition to all of that, work, the house falling down around my ears...etc, I'm trying to journal more. This consists mostly of letters to Apu, but it is relaxing, theraputic, and satisfying in a very personal way. I do find myself editing to some degree. You can't lose a spouse, watch your children go through every piece of paper in his desk and not learn a lesson or two. Yes, I'll be doing some paper shredding soon.
BUT - the big news is my new blog! I'll let it speak for itself because as, my son said - I did plenty of speaking in the first post. In my defense, I had to start with some background and I never pretended to be concise - in all fairness I am, after all, Italian (and Irish, but I am not learning Gaelic). Here is my new blog address a Lick and a Prayer. Please include your email address at the bottom of that blog page if you have the remotest interest in being notified of future posts, which I promise to keep shorter....most of the time. Oh, come on - how much can you write about a dog? Yeah...I know.
This is a shout out to the owner of Belle & Tinker. Thanks Jim for my new blog title - it's perfect! And thank you to my son for my banner - he makes it all seem so easy. It's been challenging to learn a new blog-site and will be even more so moving back and forth between the two different formats, but again it's all about the gray matter. Thank you for going on this ride with me. You've helped me, especially this last year, more than you'll ever know. So here's to the months ahead. I know I'm guided with grace from above and whispers in the Devine ear by a newbie with an accent. That reminds me - tonight while I was in my kitchen I heard Baby, my African Grey parrot, say "SheeeeT" in a most unmistakable voice. I almost burst into tears....but I laughed instead. Miss you sweet man - and Baby does too.
About a month ago, my dear sister-from-another mother, Penny wrote to me and suggested that I attend an upcoming faith sharing retreat for women at a retreat center located just south of Seattle. It was billed, "Finding God in All Things. Most often we expect to find God in Church, or during retreats, or in our formal prayers and devotions. But since God is present everywhere and in every circumstance of our lives we can find God in All things...in nature, in music and poetry, in our relationships, and in the struggles of our daily lives." It sounded good to me - just what I needed - or was it? Penny seemed truly surprised that I agreed to go.
Little Church Ladies (friends since 1st grade) Love you~
I am familiar with this place. Years ago, as a young mother needing a little peace and time to myself, I attended a retreat or two here with other women from my parish. It was difficult saying goodbye to my little needy children back then and even more difficult reintegrating back in to "real" life. I can't believe that I actually made it through those "silent" weekends - not me. I'd sleep, pray, eat, sleep, walk the beautiful grounds....sleep - you get the picture. I'd recharge my batteries and jump back in to my world feet first. This experience would be different.
The Palisades Retreat & Faith Formation Center is the retreat house of the Archdiocese of Seattle and is located on a bluff overlooking the beautiful Puget Sound (For Info). The ministry is not just for women; the yearly calendar includes retreats for men, couples, and young people too. I was relieved that this was to be a "sharing" weekend, I didn't think I was ready for the silent treatment - not now. As the weekend wore on I wasn't so sure.
I drove down Friday afternoon in time to check in, meet Penny and some women from her parish and have dinner. I remember the awkward, quiet meals from my earlier experiences and was grateful for the conversation at our table. It was wonderful meeting Penny's friends, putting faces to names I'd heard about over the years and thank them in person for all of their faithful prayers for me and my family. I got to know them pretty well over the next six meals that we would share together. That evening about 60 women met in the large, water view, conference room to meet our retreat directors, get oriented, and hear what was in store for us.
Rev. Father John Fuchs is the Superior for the Jesuit Community at Bellarmine in Tacoma (a Catholic Academy) and Pam McCauley is the program Coordinator at Palisades. She and Father team up once a year and their annual program is very popular. One of the more touching images I'll take from this weekend took place Saturday evening at a prayer service in the chapel. We had attended mass earlier so after dinner I opted for some private time (as we are encouraged to do whenever we feel we need it). I wandered into chapel just toward the end of a special "blessing" ceremony. As each woman felt comfortable they walked to the front of the chapel, placed a personal written prayer request in a basket and then Fr. John stood on one side and Pam on the other as they gently and silently prayed over the person - Fr's hand was placed on the person's head kind of - well, fatherly like, and Pam's was on their shoulder. The lights were low, candles were lit, soft Gregorian type chanting music played, and the atmosphere was so serene. Father would then anoint the individual forehead with holy oil (we Catholics love all that oil and incense kind of stuff). Finally, Fr. lifted his hand to Pam's head and just stood quietly .... the kind of "time sort of stands still" quiet. Then Pam lifted her hand to Father's head and prayed over him. It was somehow so moving to me in this old male dominated church to witness this - times they are a changin'. Only Fr. anointed with the oil though, that's a priestly duty - some things never change.
....but I jumped ahead. I didn't just feel all spiritual and renewed right off the bat - quite the opposite surprisingly. I thought I was coming down with something, my head felt congested and kind of spacey. The first evening, after our welcome, we had Silent Prayer before the Blessed Sacrament with soft music - it was beautiful. It felt familiar and comforting. I guess this is what I expected the whole weekend to be like...just "sitting" with myself, not thinking...sleeping, eating, walking. But no, this weekend was to be different - uncomfortable. When we were asked what each of us expected to get from our experience I had no trouble coming up with my practiced mantra of late: "Be still, contemplate, and trust in the heavens." Off to my little monastic room I went and against the "suggested" rules I checked my email. You reap what you sew or what ever cliche you want to stick in here!
I felt better in the morning - rested, not so 'out of it'. I made it outside for a short walk before Morning Prayer and returned invigorated for my day of "me" "me" "me". I think maybe I became confused after my recent conversation with my oldest about needing a trip to a destination spa. You'd think I'd get the picture when the first thing I met after checking in to my room was the "retreat rules, regulations and schedule" and the clean sheets on the end of my bed with instructions of how to make it....hello? I guess I'd blocked out that part from my earlier experience, or maybe the whole "monk" thing fit the silent retreat image. Maybe it was just that as a young wife and mother it seemed natural to be making someone's bed! It wasn't really so bad. I even found a little humor when I realized not only did you not get those cute little shampoo bottles, there were no shower caps either. What was I thinking? Luckily I had a plastic bag for dirty clothes - I'm innovative if anything. Look out MacGyver!
I'd reflected on the comments the women had shared the night before and was overwhelmed with the amount of loss, pain, and suffering. By the end of the first presentation of the morning I felt a bit unsettled; after my small group faith sharing I was just plain aggitated. Out of the five women in my designated group, three of us were widows. One woman, younger than me, lost her husband two years ago and the other one's died just three months ago on my husband's birthday. I tried to keep quiet thinking they needed to speak first - for once just close my big mouth and be still. Finally, after they had all talked it was my turn - nothing came out the way I wanted or expected. It was like, who is this person? I felt like I should be comforting them and I was so angry....I don't know why. It was as if I couldn't bear anyone else's pain - I'm lost in my own, I didn't come here to hear about yours. Of course, I didn't say that but it's what I thought and I felt ashamed of myself. By the next presentation I was not in my right skin. It was just so disconcerting...and I couldn't put my finger on it. Just not me....not like me at all, but who is that person these days? I'm really not sure.
Pam told us about a new addition to the property - a Labyrinth. The labyrinth, or the "Sacred Walk" is a devotional practice that is rooted in many faiths (Learn more). My first thought was of the old english garden variety labyrinth with the tall hedges and dead ends if you make the wrong turn. I had visions of missing lunch and then dinner after becoming hopelessly lost in it. Pam read my mind as her next comment was, "don't worry, you won't get lost in this one". I must have walked the immediate grounds three times before I had to ask where it was. "It looks like a patio" was the response and then I remembered the one my daughter and I walked at the beautiful luxury spa, Miraval, in Arizona (no wonder I was irritated). That one was stone lined clay gravel surrounded with desert plants. This one was made of brick and overlooked the breath-taking Puget Sound, Olympic Mountains and towering evergreens. I tried very hard to make myself one with nature. Pam said it wouldn't happen, but as I stood on this open labyrinth, trying to follow the path to a clear mind and insight - I got lost.
One moment of true joy that I had that afternoon was when I got to lead the Rosary in the chapel that afternoon. Volunteers were requested for various activities the night before. I'm a natural for my beloved Rosary-touching and moving the beads can calm our spirit and help us focus. I signed up quickly before I was asked to do the dishes. I'm kidding, we didn't have to do the dishes, but we did clear our table. I'd never make it in a commune. Part of our experience was to find God in all things....even the mundane.
On this note we were asked to find something in nature or we could use a special personal object that we had and bring it to the large faith sharing group to tell how we could see God in that item. My first thought was that I'd go down all 200 stairs to the beach, give thanks if I didn't have a heart attack and then find a rock. I like rocks - how they feel, how solid and permanent they are and how they find their way in to every one of my pockets. I'd work the God part out later, but then I remembered the cross that my husband gave to me on my last birthday. I brought it with me to think of him. He was the best man I've ever known, good, decent, honest. He was agnostic but so supportive of my faith and our children's Catholic school education. The funny thing is that this chain and crucifix is really a man's. It's huge and clunky and the choice so odd, but I love it.
So time came for faith sharing and I could not muster interest. Ol' loquacious me didn't want to share anything - what a mood! First off three women had collected rocks - thankfully I hadn't climbed all those blasted stairs. I was still debating about telling everyone about my husband's gift, when Vickie, from my small group, who'd lost her husband two years ago began to tell of a Valentine's Day when her husband came up behind her and slipped this delicate, beautiful cross around her neck - that sealed it! There wasn't a dry eye in the house.
After dinner was when I decided to have my own pity party, pull the covers up and pass on evening prayer. Even though we'd been encouraged to make this weekend anything we wanted - attend or not; I still felt like a delinquent nun. I pulled out my phone and checked my email (be still, contemplate.....) and there it was. My husband's email buddy, a colorful old Greek fisherman who had no idea where in the world I was, sent me the most unlikely thing - he sent me a prayer:
"Dear God....help us to remember that oaks grow strong in contrary winds, that diamonds are made under pressure, and that a pearl is the fruit of irritation. Give us reassurance of Thy presence and Thy blessing in the work we do, so that above the noise and challenges before us, we may see the open doors of opportunity. Enable us this day to bring help to others, credit to You Dear Heavenly Father and joy to those who love us."
That's all it the email said...no explanation - nothing. He's never sent one religious thing that I can remember. Thank you Johnny - I needed that.
So....I threw back my blanket, washed my face, adjusted my attitude and went to chapel. That's when I tiptoed on to that candle-lit, Gregorian chanting scene. I felt bad, like I'd really missed out - something very spiritual, very special was happening. "That's what you get" I told myself. So I sat there and "watched" these women who had poured out their hearts faithfully, receive their reward. Pam had just place her hand on Father's head like a loving mother to an adult son and the women were slowly departing the chapel. Sweet Penny saw me and stopped to say she was worried about me. I told her not to be, I was just working some things out on my own. She handed me a small slip of paper and a pen and said that the basket was still up on the altar and I could still write a note, "what I'd ask God to do for me if he was right here, right now" and place it up in the basket. I wrote: "Dear Heavenly Father, I know You are right here, right now and You know my needs. All I ask is if you'd please say hello to my husband". Father was just about to take the basket so I hurried to him and slipped in my note. I asked him if he could spare one more blessing? We were nearly alone in the candle-lit chapel and he calmly place his hand on my bowed head. We stood for a while, quietly and then he said, "May your eyes and your ears be open. Be still and listen for God as the world is loud." For the first time all weekend, I had a sense of peace.
I couldn't sleep for a long time. I began to understand that being alone is different than being "still". In my quest to "contemplate" I know I'm going to have to stop trying to distract myself from feeling this loss. I have several theories as to where this restlessness came from this weekend, but most of the many gifts I received were from the women I spent it with. I've read a lot from the Bible, but I've never READ the Bible. Without asking for it, Penny's sister, Janette (the big sister I wanted to have growing up) made a copy of a Bible reading calendar. It breaks the readings up into manageable sections throughout the year. One of the "rock" ladies gave me a paper explaining that some of the most striking and beautiful images of the Bible are based upon rocks: " They are a symbol of God - Yahweh is my rock, and my fortress". "The rock is a symbol of that which endures" and then a line from a song we sang in our last mass: "No storm can shake my inner-most calm while to that rock I'm clinging...."How can I keep from singing?"
Before Sunday morning mass we had one last big group gathering. I was able to express what was in my heart - My stated reason, that first night, for why I had come did not match up with how I was feeling. I am so consumed with my own grief that I couldn't bear to hear about theirs, that I'm afraid to hear in them that I'll never get past this - that I'll never be the same. I was able to thank them for what they had shared with me and taught me. I've learned that remaining still enough to actually contemplate something is going to be hard work. I told them that I've never seen the Grand Canyon and that I haven't read the Bible - this year I plan to do both. I just might read the Bible in the Grand Canyon. I read Johnny's prayer to them admitted that I like diamonds and pearls as much as the next gal so under pressure and with the fruit of my irritation maybe by next year's retreat I'll have earned a whole necklace! We attended mass together, sang "Amazing Grace" and "Here I Am Lord". Yes, faith has many expressions and we can find God everywhere if we'll only look, be still, and listen.
This amazing place worked it's magic once again. Somehow I think the communal effort is all part of the plan, even making the bed and talking in whispers (sometimes). I hugged my women goodbye after lunch and as they headed out I had one last journey to complete - 167 stairs (maybe more, I lost count) to the beach - and THEN back! I had some walking and thinking and singing and praying to do - a beautiful, empty stretch of pacific northwest beach is just the place to do it. I knew I wasn't alone~
"Simplicity is making the journey of this life with just baggage enough." Author Unknown~
Today marks a new adventure! Well I wouldn't really call it an adventure, more of a goal. In my effort to move forward I am going to try to add a couple more uplifting items to my web log this year. One of them will be to unload THINGS! This is something that Apu and I actually began last year and talked about quite a bit in the months before he died. The weight and burden of so much unnecessary clutter is quite suffocating and stressful - it adds to my overwhelmed feeling.
I'm not sure where the term "1000 Project" came from. I first heard it from one of my former students. I think she and her mom or sisters started doing this, but I never found out if they completed what they started. Once when my youngest daughter was home visiting we were watching the A&E TV show, "Hoarders" which, if you don't know, is about people whose lives have become out of control due to their inability to part with their belongings. I can hardly believe that people actually live like this. The horror must have shown on my face because my loving adult child looked over at me and said, "Don't worry Mom, we'll never let you get that bad!" Mind you this is from one who hasn't seen the bottom of her closet floor in months.
I'm not laughing, however. After my husband died the reality of what my children would have to dig through, should I drop any time soon, was a sobering thought! For a while I've had a "buy one, get rid of one" rule, but that just keeps me even. I need a running start - heck, let's be honest...sprinting wouldn't help me at his point. So, I'll try this 1000 project - getting rid of 1000 things during the course of this next year. That can't be so hard, right? My daughter-in-law and I have even talked of having a garage sale before the end of summer - now there's a plan. She is so excited. I've done one before - they aren't so exciting. I think most of us know that they are a lot of work and you don't make much for the effort, but she's only been in this country a couple of years - it's almost unAmerican not to experience one at least once.
So, that's it! I just wanted to let you know that I've started slowly to unload my clutter and I'm hoping that in the process I'll let go of a few things. My husband's belongings will be the last to sort and I'm sure I'll have a few nostaligic journeys along the way, but maybe, just maybe by ridding myself of some of this materialistic burden my heart will lighten a little too. I'll keep you posted.
BTW - my Widow Walk continues as well as my regular ones....the dogs would never forgive me!
If You Always Do What You've Always Done, You'll Always Get What You Always Got!
My son and I were driving together recently and we were trying to remember the exact phrasing of the above quote. It came abruptly back to me just last night. Its been attributed to several people and I'm certain many have borrowed it and altered it along the way. It's a good one.
OHhh, terrible! I am getting so lazy - not about walking, but about writing. The sad part is that's what's supposed to be the point of all of this. I have no excuses, I just feel sort of wiped out - kind of a post reaction to all the recent stresses, I think. Whatever the case, I had a little pep talk with myself and have moved beyond (I hope).
My last few walks have kept me in the general area of my hometown, but with a few variations. I've been in my neighborhood, in my little downtown area, at the marina, and on the railroad tracks. My head is abuzz with thoughts as I walk (a little schizophrenic?) and I know I should have pen in hand but I don't. That would feel a bit like editing while I talk and Lord knows that will never happen. The next best then would be to jot it down as soon as I get home but, as I stated, I'm just tired.
As I usually do in these slumps I turn inward both intellectually and spiritually. I pray for the strength to "pick myself up" and the courage to remember "this" is not all about me. Then I begin a regimen of renewal. This involves: a) Getting proper sleep - "Walk away from the computer! Turn off the TV!" b) Eating something other than sugar and carbs - "Yes I know the pick-me-up is immediate, but the crash is painful". c) Stimulating my brain - I repeat, "Turn off the TV." d) Meditate - in all the many forms. e) Exercise - "Come on! That wasn't a REAL walk!" So, as you can see - I have some real work ahead of me. ~sigh~
A couple of days ago Rufus and I were walking near our home in the early evening when a young, skinny, wild-looking coyote ran out in front of us. He(?) zigzagged across the road and back, behind us, a few times and disappeared into the bushes. A couple of people, putting out their garbage cans, looked up with the same stunned expression that I'm sure I wore. Rufus was in hyper-alert mode and also seemed taken off guard. Once he snapped out of it he pulled me over to the place we last sighted the mongrel and began to bark. Yeah, right, Rufus - you're all about bravery now! It sort of reminded me of high school students who are intrigued by the new kid, but don't quite know how to approach him. The moment any kind of vulnerability is shown, especially if they look different to begin with, it's time to pounce!
My immediate reaction was to feel sorry for this wild animal - wiry, lithe, and running helter-skelter, probably looking for it's next meal. I'm quite certain it was no accident that he revealed himself so blatantly the evening before garbage pick up. I lovingly looked down at overweight Rufus pulling on his leash while on his allotted 20 min walk. I had a sudden and intense realization about all the "poor souls" that garner my sympathy in this great wide world of ours and fleetingly thought, "Who should feel sorry for whom?" How pompous I can be at times.
Last evening I was by myself watering the plants of a dear friend while she is away on vacation. I sat on her front deck and enjoyed the majestic view and read for awhile until I'd nearly flooded her planters. The sun was close to dipping behind the Olympics and it was a time for quiet reflection. The waterfront is so near that I could hear the waves gently splashing on the beach below the railroad tracks. I suddenly changed my plan of walking down the road (which used to be an ancient neighborhood of ours) and instead making it down to the beach while it was still light. I found the access gate nearly hidden in the bushes and walked down the steps to the railroad tracks. As I crossed the twin tracks I could see that the tide was all the way up to the retaining rock wall and there'd be no beach walk in my immediate future.
I looked to my right and then to my left as the empty train tracks stretched in both directions. In a instant I was 21 again and living on Day Island near the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. I lived in an old rickety house with two other classmates in our last year of nursing school. One end of the island was attached to the mainland only by railroad tracks. It's a wonder that none of us were ever killed or seriously maimed considering the amount of time we spent on and around those railroad ties. One of our favorite adventures was to walk down them in the early evening, passing around a wine skin filled with some kind of "rot gut" (hope my kids don't read this) until we could hear the rails start to sing. We were usually warned of this by a distant thunder way off down the sound and then we could glimpse the cars dipping in and out of the coves coming up the coastline. Not too far from our island was the "Big Bend" and if you hurried you could plaster yourself up against the rock wall just before the train BURST around the corner arching concavely! It was at that moment that blood curdling screams would emit, involuntarily, from our chests as if taken by surprise instead of waiting in titillating anticipation. What a thrill it was! Like, I said - it just wasn't our time.
I thought about this and just life in general as I walked up the tracks in the warm glow of a mid-summer sunset. All of my youthful bravado was mercifully gone as I kept one eye peeled in each direction and even knelt down to place an ear on the rail (we found out on Day Island that it works). Any sadness at the loss of my adventurous self was replaced by the happiness that I can still fold myself down flat against the gravel and get back up again. What can I say - it's a trade off. No train passed that evening - I'm not sure my heart could have taken it, but I did enjoy my irregular gaited (one stride is too long for the space between ties and too short for two, sigh) trek down memory (dare I say) track. I reintroduced me to my old self and made some new resolutions. I love that I can count on myself to be my own cheerleader and know that while I kick my own butt, I can gently hug what God has made - in all of us. Acceptance is a glorious thing!
Yes, it may be an excuse to say that a few days rest from writing gives me a little more fuel for my effort - it's just a thought. I hope it's worth it....the effort that is. Now, I need a nap~
Sometimes inspiration hits me over the head in an obvious way, like our son (he doesn't really hit me on the head, well not often anyway) but occasionally it comes in other ways, like in an email for example. A friend of ours sent me the above video recently and not only did I love it, but it gave me an idea - not an altogether comfortable one.
Anyone who knows me can attest that I am a born hugger. I'm not the best one by far; I've received some world class hugs in my time - but I'll go in for a clutch sooner than offer a hand. One has to be somewhat sensitive these days because not everyone is receptive - it does require an ability to make a quick assessment. Sometimes I'm wrong, but that's okay, I'm willing to risk it. This usually involves people that I know or at the very least have made an introduction. I set out on my walk, yesterday, with an agenda.
I love this little video for many reasons. This harmless gesture requires minimal effort, moderate discomfort (at first) and maximum benefit (for the most part). Did you notice the response of most of the people once they'd accepted and reciprocated the hug? Once lady even skipped for a second. I wanted to experiment with this. I'm not shy, I love to hug - how difficult could it be to offer some free hugs to complete strangers? I decided to find out. I took Rufus along for moral support.
I had an errand to take me to our little town (not downtown, Seattle. For some reason I think that would have been easier - weird people are expected). I parked the car and let Rufus out. I was strangely nervous. I think the older I get, doing things outside my comfort zone is more difficult - all the more reason to challenge myself. I was on a time limit so that worked to my advantage to get me moving. I imagined myself getting back into the car having fulfilled my mission and I wondered how I'd feel, how successful I'd be - silly girl, get on with it. Okay, I can do this.
The first one was easy. I had a transaction to complete for something my sister-in-law ordered when she was visiting us last month. The woman had gone to some trouble for us so when all was finished I asked her if I could give her a hug to thank her. Her whole face changed! I walked around the counter and opened my arms and I could tell she was a first class embracer. She had one of those earthy, bosomy bodies that felt like falling into a down comforter, not my bony-backed, spindly-armed kind of hug. "Thank-you", she said. "That was so nice!"
Well that wasn't so bad. I walked on down the block, encouraged, looking for my next victim. Then I saw her: youngish, slim, casually elegant in a velor jogging suit, dark hair pulled back, wearing large sunglasses and a grim expression. She seemed to scream "Don't touch me!" So I didn't - barely let the thought cross my mind. I immediately regretted it - I think she needed it more than anyone. Even if she had refused, I think the offer would have warmed her. Next time?
That's okay, champ, don't get discouraged - this is just a test. I bravely moved forward. Rufus was busy skimming his tongue across each water bowl that was provided by EVERY single retailer we passed. What a gimmick! The next woman in my path was older and more cheerful. She was a little oblivious with her mind seemingly on other things, but there was something approachable about her. "Excuse me - my dog and I are offering free hugs today. Could I interest you in one?" She looked a little startled, but much to her credit she smiled and said, "Why yes. I'll take one from you anyway." We had a nice, quick hug and I then demonstrated how Rufus gives a full-body, gentle hug when I tap my own shoulders. She gave a hearty laugh and we both wished each other a nice day.
I had just enough time for a Starbuck's stop - whoa, a tough crowd! Not so much, as it turned out. I had just finished tying Rufus up at the outside bench when I spotted an elderly woman struggling, with her walker, to stand up near an outside table. Her thin, gray hair clung to her aged-speckled head and her ravaged, bruised arms reminded me of my own sweetie-pie as she finally found her balance. "Could I interest you in a free hug?" "Eh? What's that?" she yelled. I moved in closer to her ear and loudly repeated my request. She giggled uncertainly and then, God love her, she wrapped those loose skinned limbs around me so tight I had trouble breathing. "Oh, oh, oh," she murmured, "Thank You!" "I thank you!" I replied. Then, "Would your dog like a free dog biscuit?", her slightly younger companion offered? Imagine - they upstaged me! That's one I'll have to try next time. I immediately fetched Rufus and brought him over to do his hug trick (on me of course) and then politely wait to accept the doggie treat when it was offered. By then we'd attracted a bit of a crowd, mostly young kids wanting to pet Rufus and see his "warm embrace" hysterically laughing the whole time. I manged to sneak in a few little kid hugs, as well.
By the time I retied Rufus outside and made my way to the coffee line inside, I was feeling pretty damned proud of myself. As I waited for my turn I felt strangely unsatisfied as though I hadn't really tested my boundaries enough. I hadn't approached a man - a bespeckled five year old didn't count. I collected my drink and acknowledged I was running out of time, I had to head back home. Then it happened - the Holy Grail! He was young, handsome, and completely engaged with his laptop and the blue tooth in his ear. He was of a fine figure and dressed in a business suit - oh, and did I mention that he was African American? I say this to illustrated that he was my complete and total opposite in every way and while my brain was screaming, "are you fricken crazy???" my body had already moved in for the kill. Not only did I have to scootch into the booth where he was sitting, clearly to be undisturbed, but he was clutching something crumbly and his mouth was full. Did that stop me??? Uh-uh...nope, not on your life, because all logic had disassociated itself from my motor skills. "Hi there, I'm giving out free hugs today and was wondering if you'd like one?" Mother of God help me!!! I'd totally lost it. He only blinked a couple of times before the pearly whites flashed and he stood dusting off his fingers and choking down his last bite. "Sure, why not!" Flustered, it was then that I said it! "Well it was either me or my chocolate lab outside". MY CHOCOLATE lab....holy shit, did that just fall out of my mouth!??!! Will somebody please just get me out of here??? Who knows what went through that poor man's mind, but he had the grace to wish me a "nice day"....or some such thing - probably a good life with lots of help. Well, I did it! I lived through it and made it back outside to Rufus who was still fondly looking over at the "free doggie treat" ladies. We stopped by for a second course and by then we were all just in love with life. It was truly more fun than I've had in a long time.
I made it back home in just enough time to see my boy friend off for an afternoon doctor appointment. He was just about to leave when I caught him by the front door. "How about a hug, sailor?" He put one arm around me and gave the usual cautious "corporate" hug we've come accustomed to due to his cane toting and multiple blue marks. "Sorry fella, that's not going to cut it" I declared as I put the cane aside and gently folded myself against his frail frame. It felt so good, it felt so complete - it felt like home.
Not an earth shattering, life changing experiment, but a worthwhile one, I think. I challenge each of you to try it, maybe not like I did, but with those you know and love. Let me know how it goes. For some of us it is more difficult than others, but I promise you won't be disappointed....not in the long run, anyway - not where it counts.
There are so many Wonderful Hugs. Here are just a few: Loving Hugs ~ Father-Daughter Hugs ~ Girlfriend Hugs ~ Special People Hugs ~ Old Classmate Hugs ~ Colleague Hugs ~ Congratulations Hugs ~ Sister Hugs ~ Till I See You Again Hugs ~ Auntie Hugs ~ Twin Sibling Hugs ~ We've Made it and We're Still Here Hugs ~ Hello and Farewell Hugs~ I've Got a Wonderful Secret Hugs ~...oh yeah, and Rufus Hugs~
I'm sitting here on this bright and beautiful morning sipping my coffee and giving thanks for the delicious breakfast my hubby made me (Eggs Florentine ala Apu). The memory that just a few short weeks ago I was trying to manage work, house and home while dressing, feeding and doing every other little thing for him is not that distant, but seems quite impossible. That we can do all the things we do when we must is an incredible thing. I think I'm still recovering and storing strength for the next onslaught. Speaking of that - I'm just lamenting all the things that I coulda/shoulda done these last two days but just couldn't muster the energy to accomplish. I don't even have very good excuses, but they are behind me...moving on to this day.
The past couple of walks have been just around the corner and down the block, pleasant, but not very exciting. The fact that I have moved well into the second half of this walking endeavor with very little fanfare is not lost on me. It's nothing special really, just part of my everyday life now. The truth is that I have made room for it relatively effortlessly and it makes me wonder what else I could add to my life - or improve at the very least.
I was going to come to my computer early to write last night, but got caught up in a movie instead. The whole time I was sitting and watching I was thinking, "You could be doing something else more productive", but then I convinced myself that this was what I was CHOOSING to do at the moment and so it was ok. Right, fine...I was choosing it because I felt hot and lethargic and couldn't be bothered to get my fat butt off of the couch and up a short flight of stairs. I always know when my choice has be a good one when I don't feel a sense of guilt or remorse when the credits roll.
I can't remember how I felt about that, exactly, because as the movie ended last night I just burst into tears. It could have been disappointment over the poor use of precious time, but I think it was more likely because the movie was devastatingly sad - I watched 'The Lovely Bones'. It was my own fault, there were no surprises because I had read the book. I wondered why I was so eager to see this movie that I knew would be a heart wrencher - what possible redeeming value could be obtained? Was it curiosity at how they pulled it off or how it compared to the book (I will never read a book if I've seen the movie first, but I'll often watch the movie several times if I feel a particular book has been given justice).
Stanley Tucci talked about his role as the creepy serial killer in this film. He, like most of us, is sickened by such things and I was interested in why such a talented performer with a amazing body of work behind him would agree to take on such a role. I could try to summarize his take on it, but it's much better in his own words and not essential to my posting.
Alice Sebold wrote the story that my book club read (GAB - Girls About Books) some time ago. We choose a variety of different material, but our main goal is to evaluate how any author is able to take a subject and turn it into literature - or not. If they have accomplished this in anyway, my visual self can't resist knowing how the film creators' imagination and interpretation compares with my own. I have some friends who are bona-fide professionals in this (yes you, Marcel) but I love it too. I think that I could have chosen a few different professions in my life; I have a top three that would have been my favorites - this would have been one. But....to accomplish these things you have to get a big derriere off the sofa (unless, of course, you're doing research) - I'm going to work on that.
Some excitement is brewing (at least to us) stay tuned!
I just returned from a nice stroll through downtown Edmonds with Rufus and Mikey. If I had been a little quicker with the camera I could have captured twin squats - Mikey in perfect sync with Rufus in front. Maybe nicer for you that I didn't get it. They sure made my work easier...oh the simple things in life.
The above banner was taped to a window I passed on First Hill yesterday afternoon. It was a sweet reminder that came non too soon. I drove Daddio down to the Polyclinic to receive his 2nd outpatient treatment of IV steroids for his back. I kept hoping that after his infusion was done he'd leap up out of his chair and walk out with his wheelchair on one shoulder and carrying me sitting up on the other like the Incredible Hulk or something. It's not that kind of steroid treatment - doesn't quite work that way. Fortunately our drive down was prearranged and less frantic than the one last Friday. His appointment was later in the afternoon again, but this time we were able to fit in a dialysis cycle first so he wasn't behind by the time we got home.
Once he got all settled in the infusion room I decided to take advantage of the time to walk in new surroundings. As I left I passed several lounge chairs and beds where other patients were receiving their treatments. From my medical background it was easy to realize that several of them were getting chemotherapy and many were not very old. We don't have to go very far to find people worse off than we are. Sobering and humbling at the same time.
I headed out what I think was the front door of the clinic, but I've gotten turned around so many times and gone in and out of different doors and elevators that I'm not really sure. It is quite a complex of clinics and laboratories that all seem to run quite efficiently - and everyone is SO nice. I have found, though, that the "be like honey" concept really works; if you're sweet and kind to people most of them are quite pleasant right back at ya.
I didn't really have much of an agenda except to not get lost. For those of you who are familiar with First Hill in Seattle you know it to be also referred to as "Pill Hill" since there are so many hospitals and medical clinics up there. It is also one of the oldest parts of Seattle and there are some real gems to be found if you take a good look.
I love being a tourist in my own metropolis and I must admit that a little break from the hustle and bustle as well as a bit of fresh air was welcome. I try to remember to bring a proper camera with me, but sadly most of the time I'm lucky to have my phone. I snapped a couple of shots of areas that made me stop and smile or suck in my breath just a little. Some of the old apartment buildings have beautiful trim, moldings, and carvings on the buildings that you just don't see on construction today - mostly it's just too expensive. Some of it was crumbling and falling apart and I felt sad to see it wasn't being cared for. In a way some of the human beings I passed up there near a little serene park gave me the same feeling for much of the same cause - just let go for one reason or another.
Considering the trip down, the parking and the ordeal of starting an IV on my sweetie-pie's miserable veins, the actual treatment was mercifully short and we were out the door before we knew it. Of course Daddio knew all the ladies by their first names by check out time. To be fair, he did ask me to find out the name of the young, earring-wearing man who checked us in both days at the registrar's desk in the lobby. Last Friday it was because of him that we made it in the nick of time. He personally took my guy to the Dr's office while I ran to rescue my illegally parked car. He remembered us when we came in yesterday and asked how things were going. He didn't just inquire, he really wanted to know. Daddio wanted his name so we could send him a note of thanks. I saw a pharmacy in the lobby and suggested that we purchase a card "now" while we were thinking of it. We both wrote a note, found out his name and then left it with a co-worker. We didn't even leave our last name, but he tracked us down and called us today to thank us. He said it made his day. So easy, so simple - why don't we do it more?
So many lessons in one day: Much nicer to drive down the freeway without a knot in my stomach and my husband's white knuckles clutching the dashboard, it can be fun discovering neighborhoods I thought I already knew, no matter where I go - there I am and of course my all time favorite, 'be like honey' (from an article shared by a fb buddy) - the repercussions can be quite amazing.
PS- The verdict is still out, but I think my sweet toad might just be improving. We made homemade pizza tonight...together. Thanks for all well wishes/prayers. Stay tuned!
What a glorious day! I started it off with a mug of hot
creamy coffee while I got ready for mass. My poor guy’s left big toenail was
totally removed (yuk) last Friday due to a fungal infection that wasn’t
healing. He is high risk, of course, and heals so slowly so he’s been in a lot
of pain. The bleeding is always a curse for him since he is on Coumadin because
of his mechanical heart valves - sigh. As my Pop-Pop used to say, “What a mess,
what a mess.”Anyway, my point in
telling you this is that the nearest to the beautiful outdoors that he could
get was our backyard, and he was grateful for that.
I, however, took the puppas to the Edmonds dog beach. It was
full of canine fun and many humans had a good time too! It was so wonderful to
walk in the warm sun with just a light sweater on. Come on summer!!
Father Petosa gave the homily at mass today and as usual it
was a simple, clear message. You never need to really chew on his meaning; you
can just let it sit on your tongue and slowly dissolve. Today’s Gospel was on
the idea of forgiveness. After the Passover meal, or what we call “The Last
Supper” (which is the foundation of our whole Catholic mass), Peter denied
Jesus not once, but three times, out of fear. Jesus not only forgave him, but
entrusted him with new responsibilities – that of building His church. Peter
felt unworthy because of his betrayal and Jesus asked him, “Do you love me?”
Rather than ask for forgiveness Peter who felt undeserving had to be convinced
that he not only was forgiven, but also was needed to lead the flock. He became
our first Pope.
Then Father asked us, “Can you forgive and forget? Being
human we offend each other in so many ways.” I see it in people around me, in
my own family. For many years my husband was estranged from his youngest
brother who remained in Europe. As all too often happens, there was a dispute
over distribution of family property after the last parent died. It was a very
complicated situation and distance, time, and lack of resolve played a large
role. It was very difficult for me to respect my husband’s wishes and stay out
of it, but I always urged him to try to let it go, that in the final analysis
it wasn’t that important. As usual there was a lot of pride involved and each
waited to see if the other would make the first move.
Finally it was his sister who lived in yet another country
that was the one to bring the brothers together. In many ways it was this very
sister who my husband was trying to defend and I think it was her change of heart
and my husband’s life threatening status that caused the healing process to
begin. We all have experienced some major transgression or even a lesser
offense from someone we know. Or more difficult yet what about a misdeed from a
total stranger? Is exculpation even possible to be considered in such horrific
acts as slavery or the Holocaust? How do we learn to live a life where
forgiveness is our habit and not an isolated act, and is subsequent atonement a
necessary part of it?
It has been considered that all of this is not so simple and
that perhaps forgiveness is a two-step process: 1) First a surrender of any
desire for revenge, and 2) and then attempt to build something new without
forgetting the past. So maybe we can, in fact, exonerate and still recollect.
Forgiveness can have a releasing power for the forgiver. Well, we know it’s
complex just from all the variables alone, but to approach the idea of being
capable to forgive and to have it permeate our everyday existence – well that’s
a powerful idea.
I thought about this while walking on the beach today and one
conclusion I came to is that I can only be responsible for my own actions and
maybe through them I’ll be able to influence another. I decided that I can
forgive almost anything on a day like today, but the verdict is still out on
how I’ll feel about it tomorrow.
It all begins again bright and early tomorrow morning. The
students have selected their patients and as I write they are preparing all
their paperwork to show me, tomorrow morning, that they’re ready to give good,
safe, compassionate care. We shall see….
I was kind of hoping that the warm feeling of yesterday
would boil over to today, but I guess it’s greedy to expect a zip-a-dee-do-dah
day every day. I have discovered that I most likely had norovirus - a
virus that causes gastroenteritis. That’s old news, but during the violent,
frequent vomiting (sorry – it’s such a vile word) that left me so dehydrated, a
blood vessel burst in my left eye and I look like a battered wife. I tried that
story on a few people and it didn’t go over well. Sorry L the
good news is, although I still feel weakened, I’m safe to enter the hospital.
At least I pose no danger….hopefully the patients will be equally kind to me.
My baby child and I managed to sneak off for manicures
together before I had to do my candle duty and then go to work for a few hours. She had dinner ready when I got home. Her father raised her right! I’m soaking every ounce of that kid up before she heads to Chicago, Friday, for a couple of days
and then returns to London until June. I’ll miss her like crazy, but when she
comes home we plan a road trip to move her to California for her internship.
Having her back on the west coast will be a dream.
Rufus and I walked late, but it was still dusk. I didn’t
plan to go too far and since it was sprinkling I slipped on my low-riding
rubber boots. It wasn’t a very comfortable walk as my socks kept slipping off my
heels inside my boots. Dang it, I really dislike that when it happens – kind of
threw me off my rhythm. Rufie’s heart wasn’t in it either, I think he’s had
more exercise than usual lately with our youngster running every day, so we put in
our time and hoofed on home. It certainly wasn’t wasted time, but not stellar
by any means.
I’ve decided to add a little feature occasionally called
“Life Lessons Re-learned”. When and if, I’ll just tag them on to the end of a
post. Well, off to bed early to get an early first day start and show a good
example – I know, shock and awe!
Life Lessons Re-learned: #1) Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate! #2)
Check your socks before your walks….(a little poem) #3) A walk is never a waste of time!
Recent Comments