Janis Dehler

Life Is An Adventure

We had dinner last night with friends, Andy and Joan. Andy is 69, very active in backpacking, fishing, many adventures. Just last year he climbed to 14,000 ft. This year he had a simple fall off a stool on wheels that eventually led into deeper investigation to the diagnosis of Multiple Myeloma. Andy is a Vietnam vet serving 1967 to 1968 in country and being exposed to Agent Orange. As Andy explains it, “I know guys who have died, lost limbs, lost parts of themselves to PTSD or alcohol, and I thought I was a Vietnam survivor.” At 19 years old his own government whom he served placed him in the position to be exposed to Agent Orange. It is like having a delayed hit by friendly fire.

Andy refuses to call his experience of cancer a battle. He does not feel at war. He is calling this experience another adventure in his life of many adventures. In Andy’s words, “Life is an adventure, and death is so much a part of that.” Andy is the kind of guy who goes all in wanting to know everything about his disease, the process, and his choices. Andy is authoring his life.

Last year he and Joan traveled to Vietnam as he wanted a different memory of this country. He was not disappointed. The warmth and hospitality they received and the beauty they experienced was healing. He and Joan met a man from what was then North Vietnam and who was a soldier on the Ho Chi Minh Trail at the same time Andy was in country; they shared a drink and a toast together.

It was a privilege for Leo and I to sit with Andy and Joan for three and a half hours talking about his current journey into the medical realm, decisions that have been made and will be frequently made, the uncertainties of the future, concerns about talking to their adult children and grandchildren, looking at a probable move to a smaller home, pain issues, medications, and the challenges of doing normal everyday tasks, not being able to drive, the desire to keep living, and the meaning of quality of life for Andy. A very rich discussion not without humor and shared laughter. And, it was all very poignant being Veterans Day weekend and Andy now knowing he has not escaped the “negative effects of being in that war.”

I have always felt conflicted about Veteran’s Day. My father enlisted and served in WWII and kept in touch with his close Army buddies until he died. He was buried with colors and a full military guard and it was very moving. He was proud of that part of his life as was his country proud of him. My father in law was also in the Army in WWII and was one of the first Americans to enter Dachau after the war ended. That experience was what he came home with and sought emotional support for to help him make it through. He rarely spoke of the war.

I came of age during the 60’s in a conflicted country and a war that tore a country apart. I had friends who marched against the war as did I and I dated and married a man who escaped the draft and being sent to the front lines by learning to be a pilot in the Marine Corps which took most of the rest of the Vietnam years except his term doing mine sweeping in Haiphong Harbor and occasional mail runs in country. I lived the life of a military wife which left us on the outside of some of my college friendships. Most of the young men in the Vietnam war were drafted and fighting not by choice but the “luck” of the draw. Andy told us he felt proud to help his country but when he returned and watched four more years happen in Vietnam he also began to doubt and question what we were doing there. Andy states, “in excess of 11 million gallons of Agent Orange were sprayed during the war, from 1961 to 1972, to eliminate and deny forest and jungle cover to the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong troops, and to destroy crops which might be used to feed them. Well in excess of 2 million U.S. Military Personnel served in Vietnam during that period.” The Vietnamese people have lived through and continue to live through generations of severe birth defects in their children.

These are Andy’s words on Veterans Day:

“This year, however, Veterans Day has taken on new and different meaning for me. Now, it is me who is working through those after-effects as I undergo chemotherapy and other treatments for multiple myeloma. One persistent thought is that previously I believed that I had escaped the negative effects of being in that war. Now I know that I have not.

At the same time, it has given me a new appreciation for those friends and relatives who have been dealing with these things for years. I envy the strength they have shown in addressing whatever effects they have experienced.

Yesterday, someone asked me what the appropriate greeting was to use in responding to veterans on Veterans Day; he thought that “Happy” Veterans Day simply didn’t sound right.

We veterans will sometimes hear people thank us for our service. I always appreciate that acknowledgement but find that I don’t know how to respond to it.

More recently, I read a suggestion from someone that we should thank veterans for their “sacrifice.” I’m still thinking about that one.”

How we experience war and its aftermath is unique to each of us as to our perspective, our past experiences, our spiritual and religious beliefs. May we honor and hold sacred each others opinions and experiences even if they feel foreign to us. And, may we find a way, as people living on shared limited real estate on this evolving planet, to be people of peace, abiding peace.

I am giving Andy the last word: “A person I know, in remarking about adventures, says that it isn’t an adventure until “shit” happens. Well, apparently the “shit” has happened, so I’m off on my …. LATEST ADVENTURE! “

Amen and so it is..

All That We Carry/Part 2

Phase two of clearing. Phase one was putting everything in my art closet and trying to get the door closed. Phase two, today, was cleaning everything and bagging it and making any last minute changes as to keeping or giving away. I do take seriously all the stuff we leave behind when we leave this world, which I don’t plan on doing any time soon, but…it feels good to stay on top of the stuff.

The hardest is books. I enjoy books, reading and having them around but I do have many that I will not read again and then I bring more into the house. Of course, not everyone I live with agrees with my decisions. Sometimes I have gotten rid of something I later needed and had to buy it again. And, maybe the books aren’t the hardest. The hardest I think is my art closet which holds more than art. It holds all the paper memorabilia from kids and grandkids, photos that have not been catalogued, stuff from my former businesses, wrapping paper that needs to be sorted with all sorts of ribbons. It is amazing how much one can get into a closet. But I try to keep it in order and am waiting for a time when I have a week to really focus. It will take focus and willpower, because it will.

I like fall cleaning. In the spring, I want to get outside and not think about the inside of the house. Also, in the fall it is a natural time to empty before we enter the long winter ahead both physically with maybe a cleanse and emotionally with a good hard look. Let’s throw in mental as well. November is a time in many spiritual traditions when we attend to our losses for the year or maybe a lifetime. What still needs to be said, done, mourned, named?

The physical level of clearing can be pretty straight forward with dieting, cleanses, eating healthier. Spring and fall are the most important times to pay attention to clearing on this level. The emotional level is more of a challenge. Being willing to be honest with how we are feeling, not on the surface, but deep down. What adds to our emotional weight? What needs to be named, talked about, cried over? These are some of the probing questions. Sometimes we can do this clearing on our own and at other times we need to have a person at our side who can guide the process. And then we get to the mental level. Some of these thoughts just have to go. It can get awfully crowded in there with voices criticizing ourselves or others, wishing us well or telling us we can’t do this or that, worries or regrets that are so old we can’t even remember when. And some of this crowd may have a face from the past that is long over due to let go of.

It can be a tall order but again willpower and focus are needed, and time. As with the house, when we look at the whole it is overwhelming to think of sorting through and making decisions but as with the house, the freedom that results from clearing out unused and out of date stuff on all levels can be exhilarating. It can feel like we are full of unwanted guests who arrived and never left. Sometimes, just being straight forward and showing them the door is all that is needed. Other times, we need to have a good sit down discussion and come to a point of understanding, forgiving, with movement toward peace. In this way we make more room for our spirit, our heart of love and compassion, our kindness to self and others, and our creativity. We can then begin to stay on top of it so it is not a lifetime to look through and deal with as we move through our day to day living. We can begin to notice earlier when the closet is getting a bit full.

Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes. Carl Jung

Stuff that is headed for the door.

The space that is open and waits.

All That We Carry

It is Autumn and we are moving back into the house from summer fun and clearing out unused stuff has been my recent activity. Do we use it? How often? Does it lift me? Bring joy? Does it burden me or just sit there taking up space? These are some of the questions. In the midst of all the clearing I have found myself in a synchronistic moment/process.

On Monday, I opened the book The Wisdom of the Native Americans Edited by Kent Newburn to a piece on giving, “The Beauty of Generosity”. In this section was described the tradition of the Giveaway Ceremony. It was customary at a wedding, funeral, or birth to give everything away to the guests, to the poor, the aged, fostering right relationship with the whole community, and this ritual was shared with the community as a value.

It reminded me that when my children were younger we rented, with a group of friends every New Years, a Girl Scout camp lodge. It was fantastic for the adults and the kids. We camped out in the lodge for a couple of nights, shared meals, cooked, played games, went sledding. One year I had read about this practice of the giveaway and suggested we all bring something to give away, something that was special or useful. So all the adults and all the children gave something away to whomever wanted it. It was fun and we all talked about what it felt like to give away something we really liked but were willing to part with having no expectations of the use of the gift or getting something in return.

I remembered a man I knew a number of years ago who gave all his possessions away, everything. He said it was his way of answering the call of all the many Bible verses regarding wealth and materialism. He thought there might be some effect in doing so. Maybe a cleansing, less burden, feeling more spiritual, loving, feeling closer to God. I heard the surprise and disappointment in the telling. He was free of possessions but still had the same life issues, relationship, work issues, and security fears. He acknowledged that while the giving felt good it did not give him what he expected or sought.

That evening I opened the Dhammapada (ancient memorized teachings of Buddha translated by Eknath Easwaran) and the section read, “Let us live in joy, never attached among those who are selfishly attached. Let us live in freedom even among those who are bound by selfish attachment.”

Today, the noon hour on MPR was devoted to Dorothy Day, activist and leader of the Catholic Worker Movement who inspired me in the 80’s regarding voluntary poverty. I read everything she wrote and was written about her. Leo and I were in a simple living group who supported each other in making decisions in our life that honored the environment and global living, conscious of consumerism. It is no secret, we still very much consume, a long life learning. (Just as an aside, during that time I also read all of Carlos Castaneda’s books. What an interesting and intense time!)

Anyway, all these stories have in common the concept of attachment. We can have healthy attachment and non healthy attachment. Being defined by what we have in the material world or being burdened with the weight, the worry, the care of life goods keeps us bound. But we can also let ourselves be attached to a person with fear of loosing, loss of love. The monastic life in any tradition asks for a vow of poverty but even a monk living in a cell has to deal with attachment, to other monks, the robe, the cell, the community.

Most of us know the freedom of going camping or backpacking or on an extended trip and living with less for some time and the enjoyment of the experience. We also know we will be going home to all our goods. I think of all the people this year worldwide who have lost everything to fire, flood, wind, rain. The acts of nature that take all the possessions. And, all the acts of violence that take loved ones and has hit hard again this week.

i don’t have answers to any of these ways of being, stories, losses, and connection to stuff and people. What is intriguing to me about these stories has to do with being in right relationship whether with an object, a person, myself, or community. For me right relationship simply put is being mindfully present, allowing the person to be him or herself, allowing the object to be the object not my identification. Right relationship means that we do not bind each other from loving, growth, learning. Right relationship helps us identify what we actually need to live. And right relationship allows us to continue to help each other to move through this world as spirits in a body that we are, moving to Self actualization or God realization however we wish to name.

We all know we will go to our death and take nothing yet we all probably have something we do not wish to part from at this time. I think it is good for us to know. We may find over time that this object no longer means what it did as it’s meaning came from within us who is constantly changing. We may find over time that we have attained a sense of freedom that puts us in right relationship to all that we carry, lifts our spirits, and brings us to joy.

Our backpacks when walking the Camino 2017

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Walking In The Stream

We live in bodies that are constantly changing. We make new cells at the rate of millions every second. The mind as well “is a field of forces in constant flux.” One of my favorite authors, Eknath Easwaran, teacher of Indian spiritual classics and meditation, says, “There is no such person as Jim. There is only an ever-changing combination of physical and mental energies which for the sake of convenience we call Jim.” I really like that statement. There is a lot of freedom in this definition of self allowing us to feel fluid in this solid mass while living in a creative milieux that is constantly birthing and dying off. What an amazing design feature. There are no illusions in this statement that causes one to believe they are the same person throughout life, that one can never change, that this is who I am. We are, by the mere fact of being in a body, constant change with moment to moment opportunity for growth.

That awareness brings me to yoga. I returned today to a practice of a 1/2 hour of yoga once or twice a week. I drifted away last year as I prepared for the Camino. No, it does not make sense but I fought with my mind so many times to take the time to enter my yoga practice that I gave in to giving the time over to walking and upper body weight training, preparing for a big walk. Yes, counter intuitive as yoga does all of the above, but here I am trying to get this dear body to do what it used to do with more flexibility. I am now in a different body. Not better or worse, different, tighter in the knee joints. We will get there, my body and mind, we just need some time with a bit of patience and humor.

The point of doing yoga is to calm the mind and bring awareness to each movement of the body and in the traditional sense prepares one for sitting meditation. By day 3 of walking on the Camino, mostly in alone space allowing for deeper awareness, I found walking offered the same body/mind awareness as yoga and meditation and brought me to the moment of entering a flow or stream as I call the experience. I have experienced this in the past when working on a longer writing project, so deeply present in the moment that all sense of time is lost. Occasionally with art, but that activity is usually done, at this time in my life, with too many time constraints. I have not been able to give myself over as easily yet which entails allowing the thinking rational mind to rest. Moving into the stream is a wonder. When it happens, a gift. It is like finding a door that was always there but could not be found. When it is found and experienced we want more. “Oh, this is what it is to be alive,” we exclaim.

It is difficult to put words to this experience but time is not what we know it to be, the relationship to the physical world shifts, peace, calm, oneness, creativity, intuition, open heart, are some words that might express. Where is that door? We can’t rationally search it out but we can find it by allowing the mind to quiet and open. The mind, ” a field of forces in constant flux”, quiets. We all, by nature of being spirits in a body, have the same access, we just need to find the form that brings us to quiet open space allowing us to walk into the stream.

A stream and pathway in Padrouzo, Spain along the Camino

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A True Sister Relationship

Yesterday was a day for my sister, Mary Beth. Acting as her guardian, I attended her annual review. I have another biological sister, Diane, who I travel with, shop with, laugh with, and reminisce, and support each other in many ways. I have soul sisters who enjoy what I enjoy, see and experience life similar to me, sharing each others life journey as chosen family. These sister/female relationships are important to me, helping me to see and understand myself, challenging me to grow, offering the welcome place that needs no reintroduction when there has been absence.

My relationship with Mary Beth is different in that she does not have verbal language or adequate sign language to engage in conversation. In her 55 years of life she has remained at mental age 3 – 4 years old. She was born with an extra chromosome which gave her the label and diagnoses, Down Syndrome. In small town North Dakota in 1962, there were no support services for her or our mother and our family. Mary missed out on the early stimulation that is now begun immediately after birth. Our mother, father and us 4 children missed out on education, emotional and psychological support, peers and mentors who understood the challenges ahead. The family felt and experienced the many emotions and changes this birth brought without the guidance, supportive services and compassion that was needed and our parents navigated the waters alone through some thoughtless hurtful comments made by people who did not know what else to offer.

Throughout all of this, Mary has made herself known through her wants and needs and her personality shines. Sweet is a common word used to describe Mary. A sweetness of being that is at her essence. She is very independent minded, focused, determined, creative, and unique in her style. For years Mary loved to buy jewelry and would daily wear almost every piece. Mary loves to work and stay busy. She will be the one at her day program who with a sensibility of hospitality, or control, will take everyone’s coats and hang them up, take everyone’s lunches and put them where they belong. Mary loves to exercise, especially dance. She loves going out, shopping, eating, and riding in the car. Mary is an artist at heart. She seeks out art materials, has had caregivers who help direct her with painting and creating. Drawing and coloring are soothing to her and hold a special time for her each day. When she was small she used to sit on the floor in the bathroom while I was dressing, doing hair and make up. Mary is a “girly girl” loving to have her hair, nails, facial, any primping will do. Mary has had a long time boyfriend named Bob. He is very attentive to her. At socials he will come get her to dance, until Mary wanders away distracted by balloons or pop, then Bob will find her a bit later for more dancing. Every year they attend prom together.

Mary has a new challenge that has been growing over the years and is the added layer of Alzheimers. Sometimes in the day, her sweetness is hard to find. She is not sleeping well. She now is eating all pureed food as she cannot tolerate texture. When frustrated she will lash out physically or drop to the ground. An hour later, she will be back to Mary as we know her. She has forgotten to wear her jewelry. She lives in a group home and I am eternally grateful for the love, care, understanding and determination of her caregivers to keep her quality of life to what she knows it to be and work with her to soothe and comfort.

This is a hard piece to write as there are so many feelings surrounding this relationship. I can easily name some of them, grief, guilt, joy, love, compassion, ambivalence, affection, admiration, irritation and at times I have felt disgust at some of the behaviors. And, did I say guilt? It is a relationship where enough never seems enough. There is always more to be met. These feelings rise and fall. There is no justification of the feelings, no rhyme or reason, they are just present when they are present. My own acceptance of the feelings makes all the difference. I don’t own any one feeling in this relationship. They are all present and all matter and do not define me or Mary or the relationship. They simply rise and fall.

When I feel guilt especially, I do a reality check and breathe it through. I can no longer enjoy bringing Mary Beth home for over nights as it is too far out of her daily routine. It is too challenging for her and for me. I miss the Mary who was not driven by her compulsions, who was not affected by all the medications. And yet, I know that the change we live through is the nature of life. Everything is change. We change and strive for adaptation. Our bodies and minds age and we seek ways of comfort and normalcy. I do not long for the sweet days when my children were little; I delight in their growth into their mature life. I realize I can let go of the longing for the Mary of the past and celebrate the life she is striving to live. I continue to see the sweetness, continue to hold with compassion this sister relationship that has been part of my life since I was 12 and which continues to grow in its own complexity as every sister and sister/friend relationship does.

Mary offers me the same mirror of relationship as does my sister, Diane, and my adopted sisters as well. We are all here to help each other in our journey of life navigating the waters as spirits in a human body. That is what I offer to Mary Beth and that is what Mary Beth offers to me in return, as we each challenge each other to show up in what ever way we are able, to a true sister relationship.

Posing

The Face of Resilience

The senior apartments I visited yesterday morning were full of little goblins ages 2, 3, 4, wandering from one elder to the next who sat in the entry and had bowls of candy pieces they would drop into each bucket. Then up the children went to the apartments and walked the halls popping in as cats, princesses, spiderman, to bring laughter, hoots, and smiles. I arrived early and was able to sit and take it all in. When the time was right, I went up the elevator and found the woman I was visiting, having recently lost her husband of 60 years, in her apartment looking deeply sad, feeling lost in her loss.

As we talked and she shared with me the story of her life with her husband a smile arose on her lips as she was there in her memory of him when they were young. Her face lit with contented love and then she returned to the feeling of sadness and weariness. So many emotions riding the waves of grief that it can be exhausting yet that is the sign of hope and resilience, we are not sunk in one emotion. We are complex beings and as the building was full of laughter and fun while behind a closed door a woman sat in sadness we also have access to an array of emotion at any time throughout our day.

Sadness, loss, feeling out of step, are feelings that will need to be navigated as she makes this journey and yet there will be a child, an animal, a memory that will call for attention, surprise her in a moment and her heart will respond, a smile may form, a memory of her love will show, a feeling of herself being a child again might delight. These moments are what bring us further and further to the surface so we might catch a breath before we again descend. Each day, month, year, we stay on the surface a bit longer as we attend to each feeling as it arises.

Our natural instinct is to flee from the pain. That is how we are wired. When the pain is so great, we might seek to numb ourselves, deny the pain, anything to avoid. If we can act contrary to our instinct and allow the feelings to move through us, allow the memories to arise, allow for help in the process when it is too great to be left alone, we find that out of the muck, the mud, the rocky soil of our soul the flower of our life rises. There is no time line on how this all moves. It is unique to each individual, to each loss, to each story. The loss is part of our life journey. No more no less. It is what we look back to at the end of our days as we start to name what is of value, what we have accomplished, what we have brought to the world, what we grieve and what we celebrate.

Some choose to make the journey, others do not. Some talk it through others create or write or build. There is no way. There is no judgment. There is no promise. There is only hope for the journey and the renewal of life as we heal. As we daily attend to all the losses that come our way and increase our emotional vocabulary and intelligence we build resilience for the tougher times, the losses that seek for transformation of a soul. Those losses that turn life on its head.

A flower on the Camino rising in the drought and rocky soil

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Waking Each Other to Now

My quote for the day on Friday, our first snow storm, was from Wyat, the cashier at our local food coop, City Center Market. Wyat is 20 something with wavy blonde hair down to his shoulders. He has a very direct look when speaking to you and enjoys engaging in conversation. Friday his question in an exuberant tone of voice was, “So how do you like this snow?” Having canceled my massage appointment so I wouldn’t have to drive 2 1/2 hours in the stuff, my response was lukewarm at best and my head was still in a meeting I had just left. Wyat’s reply while waving his arm toward the window was, “Just look at that ambient atmosphere!” and he went on to express how he loved days like this. I looked. I let go of all the other stuff around the fact of the snow and looked at the day. It was beautiful. I smiled. We laughed together and chatted.

When I was in Spain walking the Camino we marveled at the attitudes of all who served us, their seeming love of their job and their willingness to share that with us. It was rare at best to encounter anyone quick, rude, brusk, or impatient. We talked about how it is not like this back home with tired harried wait people, cashiers, with our fast food mentality. There is truth to this perception but there is something more.

Since my return I have been observant and what I am seeing is people like Wyat. What I am learning and being reminded of is the relationship that happens in the encounter between server and customer, relationship here being key as we expect servers to be kind and available for our needs but the question then is, what do I bring to this encounter? When I approach the register or the wait person at a restaurant with my mind somewhere else or in my own version of fast food mentality, I am not available. When I don’t take a moment to smile, to ask how they are today, I expect more than I am willing to give back. Wyat likes to test himself and see if he remembers my member number. All the cashiers at the coop wear their names on their shirts. I don’t even know all of their names because I haven’t looked.

Wyat reached out and woke me up to my day but also to what it is to encounter another and be in the present moment with that individual. I left smiling wanting to write about this young man and the gift he gave me. This is a man who enjoys himself, who takes the risk to challenge others to enjoy themselves as well. Wyat challenged me to see beyond my own perception and judgment. I only hope I am able to pay it forward and offer another this gift as well.

Ambient Atmosphere

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What Brings you comfort?

It has been a busy week. My daughter’s kitchen was flooded, my mother in law fell, my sister Mary with Down Syndrome and Alzheimers is having moments of acting out, my uncle was placed in memory care and we will visit tomorrow. Client X is raw with grief and planning a trip to “just get out of here.” Client Y feels that she is loosing her faith and belief in God. Client Z needed placing in a mental health unit for protection in his grief. Some days, some weeks are more painful than others.

It is a good day to seek comfort. People, even clients, will ask, “How can you do this day after day?” “How do you take care of yourself?” In my department we ask each other the same question. It is the same question I ask my clients. Tonight I turned to spaghetti, Modern Family, a bath and music. Going for a walk is always good. Some days it is a bigger hunk of chocolate than the usual small square.

I always ask my clients early on in our sessions, “What gives you comfort?’ “What do you seek for support when you are hurting?” Many times I receive a blank stare. Who would know the answer to that question in such rawness? That is a fair response. Who would know when all we want is the one we love? But I let the question sink in. Maybe in a week or a month the body, the mind, or the spirit might offer up the answer. I need to start reading novels to quiet my mind. I need to have some quiet reflection time every morning. I turn on the tv to get to sleep. I like to turn on music really loud and cry. I buy myself flowers as he would have done. I might hear, I have been drinking every day. I just want to go to a bar and meet someone. I turn on the tv and sleep with it on all night. I don’t turn out the lights. It is the only thing that gets me through.

There are as many unique answers to this question as there are people and losses. Maybe comfort is that which makes us feel at home with ourselves. Or maybe it is simply something to help ground us. Or maybe to help us be somewhere away from the pain or to be in a state of numbing ourselves from the pain. In our pain and loss we ache for the familiar to take a break from the new world that is opening before us. To be someplace where we can feel at home and be ourselves. Maya Angelou in All Gods Children Need Traveling Shoes states that “The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” Away from any judgement and attempts at smoothing things over, both from others and ourselves. The spiral is a good symbol of this journey of comfort as we empty ourselves on the journey in, find our center, sit in peace, allow ourselves to be filled and then bring that which we find back out into the world, into our own soul.

So, it is a good day to remind myself that every home in my community has a story of loss. No one is immune. We can’t compare. Whose pain is worse, more? We each are called to live out our story as it appears. It is a good day to remember that simply looking someone in the eyes and smiling can change the world of that individual for a bit of time. Someone smiling at me gives me a lift into peace and joy. It is how we care for each other, even the strangers that we might be, not knowing what effect we make in the world but always believing we are all of consequence. We all matter. We all make a difference.

At David’s on the way to Astorga on the Camino Frances

Expecting the Unexpected

Unexpectedly, there was a man on my roof at 3:30 pm Monday. Yes, really. But more about that later. Also, unexpectedly, we gave over the morning to putting the travel trailer and fishing boat in storage for the winter. The opportunity arose so we could be free of doing this job in the snow on Thursday. While I was in the trailer setting odor repellent for mice, I took off my prescription sunglass clip ons and set them on the counter. The inner voice said, “Don’t set them there, you will forget them.” “Nah.” I said. And I set them on the counter.

Two hours later I was looking for my sunglass clip ons. We headed back to the storage and luckily I was able to get in and crawl on my belly under the slide in to retrieve them where they had fallen during the transport.

In mid afternoon a man arrives at our door wondering if we need any tree trimming done. Leo jumps at the chance to have someone cut down the large branch hanging over the house. After dickering on a price and with a cherry picker and his helper they ascend. The helper is on the roof. The wind whisks his prescription sunglasses off his head and away they go with the wind. The men look around for about twenty minutes before giving up. The man on the roof says, “When I put them on this morning I said to myself, don’t wear these new ones, wear the old ones, but I didn’t listen to myself.”

We don’t always listen to ourselves let alone the wisdom from within, however we name that voice of wisdom, knowing, collective unconscious, all pervasive Spirit. Some days we don’t have much time to interact with our spouse, our kids, friends, or even ourselves. The inner voice whispers, talks a bit louder and then one day screams until we have to pay attention. It can get awfully lonely inside when we don’t spend a few moments with ourselves daily. Just listening. We might think of it as meditation, prayer, reflection time with a cup of coffee. Whatever, we call it, the time with self deserves our respect, as it does with anyone we care about.

When we first learn to sit quietly with ourselves there is the inevitable question, “What if there is nothing there?” We wiggle, squirm, adjust this and that, feel impatient. It is amazing how long 5 minutes can feel when we are counting every second and itching to get away and “do something.” When I first started learning to calm my mind and meditate in the mid 80’s, it was met with the same questions and concerns, “Am I doing this right?” Maybe I should take a class to learn.” Wouldn’t that be nice for my busy mind? But really, it is about breathing, Just sit quietly and breathe. Notice the breath. Be present. So easy and so hard. It takes practice, a little bit every day.

When I encourage a grieving widow who is trying to stay busy so as “not to dwell so much” on the one she misses, and offer to her that she can sit quietly every morning or evening to just be with the loved one. Be with the memories, the feel of the person. The suggestion might be met with uncertainty or resistance but after giving it a try can become a moment of balm for the day. A base line that can be carried throughout a busy chaotic day, “I remember how I felt in quiet this morning, all is well.”

We will go on ignoring the inner voice at various times. We are human. But more and more we will recognize, calm ourselves, be patient and listen. Breathe in and then respond rather than give a quick thoughtless reaction. We can strengthen the intuition as we strengthen a muscle. Our quieting becomes an invitation, allowing a connection to the language of the world, as Paulo Coehlo calls it. We can learn to expect this inner voice who alerts us to the unexpected.

To know yourself as the Being underneath the thinker, the stillness underneath the mental noise, the love and joy underneath the pain, is freedom, salvation, enlightenment. Eckhart Tolle

Seeing is Not Believing

This weekend was cleanup weekend as we head into winter and are feeling close on its heals. Window washing is part of the process. I wash in and Leo washes out. My job is done. It won’t last long but it is fun to see clear glass letting the light in stronger and giving more of a feel of inside is out and outside is in. There will soon be the finger smudges, markings from birds that hit the window, and general grime. The light now shines clearer on cobwebs, the dead flowers in the crystal vase that two weeks ago declared “Welcome Home” and now beg for the compost pile, the juice from a tomato that died before we could eat it. It is the end of a season. After the bright light of summer everything is looking tired. I declared to myself that I could now see out much clearer now that the windows are washed. The reality is that Leo has not washed the outside yet so it is possible that I just believe I can see better.

Studies have been done that show we all see things differently, even color. The green you see is not the green that I see. We can all see an event and walk away with a different version of what happened. You may focus on something I did not even see. In Hospice we use the team approach. There might be one person on the team who sees entirely different than anyone else. And someone then might say, “Oh, yes, now I see.” or “No, no I don’t see it that way at all.” It does not matter. All views matter and help to build a whole and we all discuss what is the best approach from all the input.

In the beginning of the year I had a cataract removed. The first day of sight is amazingly clear. Shocking in a way to see so clearly and then it begins to wane over a bit of time settling into a more ho hum vision. Shock will do that as well. After I had been in the hospital with a dying baby and was driven home after a week of interior life, I was stunned at the green beauty before me. How did this happen? It was as if everything had been painted in bright bold colors. I had been deprived of this long enough in a haze of grief that color lost its normalcy.

I made my 8 year old grandson a book for his birthday through Shutterfly and it is on its way. I took a photo of the cover and pasted it in his card so he could see his gift. My daughter saw what I and Leo could not see, I had given Remy his brother’s middle name. Not just once but twice in the book. I read and reread to proofread, as did Leo. We could not see what was before us and know to be incorrect.

No matter how much we polish the lens that we see through we still have bias, belief and life experience that we have to move through to really see. We begin to see with a ho hum vision that reads from habit, and conviction. There is a space, a gap, between what we see and what we tell ourselves we see. Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinkers Creek, talks about going into the gaps. Those spaces between things, in this case between what we see and don’t see. Go into the gaps with courage, that narrow space before bias, conviction, and belief. We might see a whole new universe in raging color that does not match what we thought was alway true. We might be brave and allow ourselves to not believe what we are seeing and challenge ourselves to look again. Looking again in the gaps.

Rum River , todays walk.