Joyful Wrecks: Reflections on living...

No Reason to be a Cynic

Historian Howard Zinn wrote in an article for The Nation, called The Optimism of Uncertainty and I like his words.

"An optimist isn't necessarily a blithe, slightly sappy whistler in the dark of our time. To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places - and there are so many - where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction."

 

Once In a Blue Moon

Did you know that New Years Eve 2009 had the 2^nd full moon of the month, the first one being Dec 2^nd? This is known as a blue moon. The last time this happened on New Year’s Eve was in 1990, 20 years ago. Hence, the expression, once in a blue moon.

 

I have been thinking about this for 2010 and thinking about coincidences, and surprise, and “could have’s” or might have been or almost…the things that surprise us with joy or catch us off guard with grief and sorrow. The unfairness of life, sometimes in our favour and sometimes not and always the mystery. The “not knowing” of what is around the corner.

 

If I think back to January 2000, I would never have imagined being in Calgary, working at Wellspring, living through cancer. My children had not met their mates, Sheila didn’t know Jim, we didn’t know our dear friends John and Meredith yet. Now at this New Year, John along with other dear ones, are no longer here to welcome in 2010. This really is life, this constantly changing whirlwind where we live and breathe and laugh and cry and find our way - birth and death, joy and disappointment, success and failure, forgiveness and gratefulness, celebration and creativity and holding it all together.

 

The truth is that we never know what will happen to change our life. In 2000 I could not have imagined where I am today so who knows what another year or ten will bring, if I’m lucky enough to be around. But if I look at my experience I am filled with thankfulness for all that has been and especially for the people in my life.

 

Good heavens, it is a gift to be alive just for the people. A pension would be nice, but it is the people who count.  

 

 

 I think what I’m getting at is the importance of not waiting for a blue moon to be fully alive and present to the life we have now, whatever that is. One of my favourite Zen teacher’s, John Tarrant, writes about the pity of wasting a good crisis and there seem to be plenty of those; so working, living, learning, contributing, laughing and loving and  even thriving through it all, whatever comes, may be the way of a well-lived life.

 

May 2010 be a year where we say, “bring it on,” whatever it is and we will dive deeply, knowing that we can find, with a little help from our friends, the courage, buoyancy, grace and always the humour to handle what arrives. May this year be the best that it can be, whatever our circumstances.

 

With love, trudy

Christmas Eve

The magic of Christmas shines in the eyes of children and  allows us to experience this festive season with our own fresh eyes. Mind you, I have always loved Christmas and I am thinking especially today about all the magical Christmas Eve's on Gabriola Island with family and friends, candlelight, music, good food and drink. It can't be compared and I miss it.

As the blue hour descends on this beautiful day, right where we are, and we finalize dinner for our dear Calgary family I send good wishes for Santa's helpers all over the world. May all of us keep the spirit of Christmas burning bright and may we have the best possible Christmas time surrounded by those we love. 

It wouldn't be Chrismas Eve for me without re-reading the words of GK Chesterson along with a few other special stories, and I offer the Chesterson one here.

With lots of love, Trudy

"What has happened to me has been the very reverse of what appears to be the experience of most of my friends. Instead of dwindling to a point, Santa Claus has grown larger and larger in my life until he fills almost the whole of it.

It happened in this way.

As a child I was faced with a phenomenon requiring explanation.  I hung up at the end of my bed an empty stocking, which in the morning became a full stocking.  I had done nothing to produce the things that filled it. I had not worked for them, or made them or helped to make them.  I had not even been good - far from it.

And the explanation was that a certain being whom people called Santa Claus was benevolently disposed toward me. . . .  What we believed was that a certain benevolent agency did give us those toys for nothing. And, as I say, I believe it still.  I have merely extended the idea. Then I only wondered who put the toys in the stocking; now I wonder who put the stocking by the bed, and the bed in the room, and the room in the house, and the house on the planet, and the great planet in the void. Once I only thanked Santa Claus for a few dollars and crackers, now, I thank him for stars and street faces and wine and the great sea. Once I thought it delightful and astonishing to find a present so big that it only went halfway into the stocking.  Now I am delighted and astonished every morning to find a present so big that it takes two stockings to hold it, and then leaves a great deal outside; it is the large and preposterous present for myself, as to the origin of which I can offer no suggestion except that Santa Claus gave it to me in a fit of peculiarly fantastic goodwill.”  G.K. Chesterton

 

 

At This Busy Time - something to think about...

Interesting and controversial advice from Picasso:

"You must always work not just within, but below your means. If you can handle three elements, handle only two. If you can handle ten, then handle five. In that way, the ones you do handle, you handle with ease, more mastery, and you create a feeling of strength in reserve."

Hmm...

Warm greetings from cold Calgary.

 

UK makes online safety lessons for kids compulsory

Hi everyone. Thanks to my son-in-law I just read this piece about complusory online safety lessons for kids. I hope this indicates a trend for all countries to consider.Along with "stop, look, listen" kids will learn "zip it, block it, flag it." Yeah for the UK!  This is a short piece and you can read it here.

Few Words that say so much

I don't know the title of this little prayer/poem but I love it. Thanks to my dear friend Patrica Ryan Madson for sending it to me, along with a few others by Nancy Gibbs Richard.This is from a collection called, A Small Steadying Sail of Love. It seems to me that these words are grace-filled and from the heart. I felt them as a blessing. Perhaps you will too.

 

 

In this time of waiting

And not knowing

How things will unfold

May you find a pool of calm

A place of peace and rest

Deep within your soul.

 

 

And thanks to Lydia for the photo she took in Austria this fall, while waiting for the harvest.

 

 

 

Awareness, Teamwork and the Pink Glove Dance

I often don't like these productions but I really enjoyed this one from a hospital in Portland Oregon. Not only did they make the entire hospital aware of breast cancer but by the looks of things they boosted morale and improved team spirit.

I hope you enjoy the Pink Glove Dance.

Have a lovely week-end. Trudy

Ever Widening Circles

This week-end we spent a lot of time with an old acquaintance-Rabbi Rami Shapiro. It all started when I read an ad in the paper that Rabbi Rami was coming to Calgary, invited by the Wisdom Centre, and partnering with Temple B’nai Tikvah, the Anglican Parish of Christ Church and others.

 

Since Rami is a bright light on my spiritual screen, and I had not seen him for 18 years or so,  I was delighted. I immediately signed up along with 174 other people to attend his one day workshop on the Sacred Art of Loving Kindness: an interfaith exploration of compassion. And what a rollicking day it was. Not only were we inspired, enlightened, educated and entertained our immune systems got boosted with all of the laughing. Quite frankly, Rami is a delight. And not only that, he is wonderfully irreverent. Not in a cynical way but in a joyful mix of intelligence, wisdom, open mindedness, truthfulness,  and absolute compassion for the human condition.  If you think I loved the day, you are right.

 

Probably my favourite thing among many that I took away was the idea of being a “trim-tab.” Rami had studied with Buckminster Fuller and had learned about trim tabs from him. In fact when Fuller died his epitaph reads simply TRIM TAB.

 

So what does that mean? “A trim tab is the tiny, trailing part of a ship's rudder. Slight pressure on the trim tab moves the rudder, which in turn directs the ship. We are all trim tabs, tiny pivots affecting the overall direction of humanity. As Fuller advised, it is time to take a long view. Zoom out, look at where we've been and where we might be going. See it? Now choose your path and act accordingly.”

 

As Rami said, “you don’t have to turn the weight of civilization, but you can be a trim tab and be part of the turning.”

 

The other very special aspect of the week-end was attending our first Shabbat Supper, which was memorable and delicious, prepared by friends and followed by going to their Temple B’nai Tikvah for Shabbat Services. A first for both Gottfried and me and such a special occasion to experience as guests. I loved everything about it.

This week-end was filled with freshness, learning and laughter. Just what the Doctor ordered. Thanks to Debbie, Steve and Rabbi Rami along with all the others who made the whole thing possible.

 

As always, Trudy

PS: Below is a little more info about Rami.

 

Rabbi Rami Shapiro

Rabbi Rami Shapiro is an award winning author, poet, essayist, and educator whose poems have been anthologized in over a dozen volumes, and whose prayers are used in prayer books around the world. Rami received rabbinical ordination from the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion and holds doctoral degrees in both Jewish studies and divinity.

A congregational Rabbi for 20 years, Rabbi Shapiro currently teaches Religious Studies at Middle Tennessee State University, and directs One River, a not-for-profit educational foundation devoted to building community through contemplative conversation. Rami writes a regular column for Spirituality and Health Magazine called Roadside Assistance on Your Spiritual Journey. His most recent books are The Sacred Art of Lovingkindness, The Divine Feminine, and Ethics of the Sages

A Blessing

I found this blessing at Callanish Society, a non-profit organization in Vancouver providing retreats for people living with cancer and their families. It appears, per their website, that they have adapted it from Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, CA.

We give thanks for places of simplicity and peace.
May we find such places in ourselves.
We give thanks for places of freedom and beauty.
May we find such places in ourselves.
We give thanks for places of refuge and love.
May we find such places in ourselves.
May we begin to mend the outer world
According to the truth of our inner life.

Charter For Compassion

You may want to join in, if you haven't already, to view the launch on November 12th of the Charter For Compassion.  You can watch a preview on the site and when it is launched you can view sites all over the world, where people of all religions and no religions are taking part in this event. Charter for Compassion

Seems like a good idea to me.

November 11 Remembrance Day and JWS

 

 

I have been thinking of all those who have died in the service of their countries and it saddens me that these acts of service have required the deaths of so many people, especially young people. My prayer is that we can come to settle our differences without war and one day we will remember those who will bring us to a new way of resolving conflict. A pipe dream?  Maybe. But since what we are currently doing isn’t working well, we can always hope for a better way.

 

The other truth is that today I am mostly remembering our friend John W Stephure, whose Birthday is November 11^th.  Had he not died in June, we would have all been celebrating his 59^th this evening.

 

So today I am especially thinking of his beloved wife Meredith and his children whose loss is simply beyond words. And I’m thinking of John’s brothers and sister and families and the “nephers” as he loved to call Joy’s four boys.

 

And so it is. A loved one deeply and sorely missed.

 

I understand the story the Buddha  told  of the grieving mother and the mustard seed. When a mother loses her only son, she takes his body to the Buddha to find a cure. The Buddha asks her to bring a handful of mustard seeds from a family that has never lost a child, husband, parent or friend. When the mother is unable to find such a house in her village, she realizes that death is common to all.

 

The head gets the story but the heart still weeps. And so my thoughts are with the Stephures everyday but today I just want to say how much we miss this dear friend and honourable man who was in particular your beloved husband and father and brother.

 

A toast to John with thanks and appreciation and love, T&G

 

PS And of course all of us who knew John can never forget that laugh.He continually broke up an International Conference on Morita Therapy at UBC. Everyone wanted to be at John's table because of all the fun.

 

"Family, Faith, Friends and Fun." John's Four Fs.

 

Don't Go It Alone

Aristotle said that in order for people to become virtuous, we need role models—others who have developed their capacities for courage, self-control, wisdom, and justice. We may emphasize different sets of virtues or ideas about what makes a proper role model, but ... as we are all connected and interdependent, none of us can do it all on our own.

Acknowledging this dependency is the first step of real emotional work within relationships. Our ambivalence about our own needs and dependency gets stirred up in all kinds of relationships. We cannot escape our feelings and needs and desires if we are going to be in relationships with others. To be in relationships is to feel our vulnerability in relation to other people who are unpredictable, and in circumstances that are intrinsically uncontrollable and unreliable. - Barry Magid, "No Gain," Tricycle Summer 2008

And so it goes. Who wants to be vulnerable? Who wants to deal with unpredictability? Who wants to be needy? Surely not me. And probably not many of you. But this is the stuff of relationships. And we were made for it. I wish us all good luck.   Trudy

 

20 Years Ago: Fall of Berlin Wall had significant impact on SA

 

Nov 9, 2009 11:49 PM | By The Herald Editorial

 

---

The Herald Editorial: The 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 is a reminder of the impact of that tumultuous event on this country. Among other things, it contributed significantly to the creation of a climate for the release of jailed ANC leader Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners, and one in which negotiations could take place leading to the adoption of an interim constitution, the advent of democracy through universal elections in April 1994 and the election of South Africa’s first black president.

 

We never know the ripple effects for good or ill, at the time things happen. And it is seldom either or. It is true on the public stage and in our private lives. And 20 years goes by in a heartbeat. The fall of the Berlin Wall was a significant symbol of change in my lifetime. May the next twenty years bring peace and compassion to our troubled world. As always, T

 

PS domino photo courtesy of Istock and orchid courtesy of Gottfried

 

Through Leaves Over Bridges- for Gottfried

I have been gone for awhile (metaphorically) and now I’m back. Life sometimes hits us with a wave and while we are getting our footing we get bashed about by another. And, all the time this is happening, it is hard to remember that we are still carried, on the currents of a blessed life.

 

As for me, it has been hard to find my footing this latter half of 2009. I seem to go one step ahead and two steps back and even though it will never all come together by design, it does come together and then it falls apart and then it comes together again. Maybe that is the design. Maybe that is life. Not for all, but certainly for me.

 

And then there is Gottfried. Caregiver personified, who found himself in dire straits this summer and sought refuge in the mountains. Human suffering. Human fraility. Human resilience. Sometimes it seems like the world pretends none of this happens and yet it happens to most of us-all of us, sometime or other.

 

And here we are, still standing.

 

 

Today is Gottfried’s namesday. In Austria, as in many Catholic countries, babies are named after one of the saints so there are calendars that show the birthdates of the saint whose name you carry.

 

November 8th is the day for Gottfried-whose name means God’s peace. An old fashioned name and an old fashioned meaning. In Austria, “namenstag” used to be a bigger celebration than your Birthday although like many traditions it is slipping away, but not in our house.

 

This Sunday the sky was blue, the air was crisp, and the leaves were rustling. We got to spend three hours out doors walking along the river and maybe for the first time in awhile there was a gentle awakening of peace.  Perhaps it was Gottfried’s saint putting in some extra effort on our behalf. Perhaps it was recognizing that even though the world is full of suffering and how can we possibly complain of anything-the truth is that we are warm, vulnerable humans and sometimes our hearts get broken and stoicism isn’t the only answer. Sometimes we need to grieve our losses before we can move on.

 

And so I will once again do some scribbling. What does that mean? Not sure.  But my true, blue mantra from Pema - start where you are.

 

With appreciation for all that love and goodness that keeps us going.

 

And Gottfried, Happy Names Day. With love, Trudy

Mountain Pose

This evening was my first session in the Yoga Thrive program, designed at U of Calgary for people who have had cancer. The first step is a seven week program and this fall it has been rolled out across the city at 20 different locations. Wellspring is hosting three sessions.

I have committed to the research component and to attending the seven sessions. After tonight, I can see that this will not be a hardship but rather a privilege to get to go to yoga on Tuesday evening, with a dedicated and experienced teacher and fourteen other eager people.

It is the right thing to do. This is the time to give my body/mind a helping hand so that it can continue to help me. My version of the "mountain pose" was not strong, stately and well balanced  like this photo, but that's not the point. The point is to do what I can today. And I did.

It is truly amazing when you think of the army of people in the world working steadily to help others. I have been a fortunate recipient of so much of this help my entire life. 

With thanks to all. Trudy

Me and My Bike

 

Ok. I love my bike. And we are getting use to each other. I have an inner bubbling joy when I get on my bike coupled with uncertainty and nervousness. It has been a long time since I rode a bike, yet, there is a familiarlity. My skill does not equal my enthusiasm so my natural caution holds me in good stead and at the same time I can't allow it to be a dictator, not even a benovolent one.So I need to pedal. That is the only way I will gain confidence and expertise.

Today I was skimming a book by Margaret Wheatley, who by the way, will be giving a free public lecture at the Banff Leadership Institute on Wednesday night. In this book there are several wonderful quotes but the one I like at the moment is from Vaclav Havel:

"Hope, is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out."

Thinking of all of you, dear readers, and wishing you well. As always, Trudy

Get Active

(logo of Now Magazine Toronto)

In July and August this summer I was fortunate to meet Pamela Bowes. She is one of the Toronto Wellspringers and a prime mover behind the Return to Work program and the creator of the amazing Money Matters program that are available for free to any Wellspring member.

Besides her long list of attributes, which I won't go into here so Pam doesn't blush, she told me an extraordinary story on my most recent trip to Wellspring Toronto.

Several years ago, shortly before her friend Rob Cole died, they were discussing what she might like that belonged to him. It was a no-brainer. Pamela wanted his beautiful, cushy, green leather sofa. Considering this a done deal, imagine her disappointment when she not only didn't get the couch, but instead received a gift she hardly knew what to do with - a green, yellow and white Marin bicycle, with a two-word message: Get Active.

This gift, unbeknownst to Pamela at that time, would change her life. I have the story that was published in Now Magazine and I would love you to read it. The tag line reads On my pal’s wheels, I dropped 100 pounds and pedalled my way out of a rut.

Pamela had a wise and caring friend. I think his gift and message was an amazing bequest and her remarkable response brought honour to his gift and inspiration to others including me. I love this story and I salute the memory of Rob Cole and his very alive friend Pamela. May you continue to keep turning those wheels, Pam, one pedal stroke at a time.

With appreciation for your story, Trudy

PS My bike will appear on this page for sure on the week-end.

Bike Part 2

 

I was just speaking with my friends Sheila and Jim and they had assumed from my last post that I was already riding my new bike. Wrong. I was just wanting a bike last week. Today, however, is a different story. I bought my bike late this afternoon. My friend Nancy Wright helped me to make my final selection. Nancy is the amazing rider who rode to Philadelphia in August 2008, on my behalf and to help raise funds for Wellspring.

As soon as I can get a photo taken, you will see me and my bike. It will probably be Wednesday or Thursday. I plan to ride (hmm-I need a name for my new transport) to work for the first time on Wednesday.

Maybe I will start paying more attention to my wishes. You never know what will happen next. As the ancient Roman poet Ovid, reminds us, "Let your hook always be cast. In the pool where you least expect it, will be fish."

That's it for now.  Trudy

A Bike

  

Today was one of those perfect days where the external weather was just as brilliant as the internal weather. I left work early and was propelled to the cycle shop to look at bikes. I have an irresistible impulse that is gathering strength everyday that I need a bike for my birthday.

I looked last week-end  but I didn't like what I thought I wanted - one of the new "cruisers" or "town" bikes. I sat on a couple and they seemed unwieldy for me. Of course I haven't rode (is that the right word??) a bike in over ten years, but I live where I can safely ride a bike to work, to visit my little family, cruise for miles along the river and I have a growing desire to do just that. So today, I left work and went straight to another cycle shop and I may have found exactly the right bike, thanks to Bryce, the young man helping me out.

I was reminded, in this process, of my last day of school when I was ten years old, and all I wanted was a bike. My parents were of the mind that with the final day of school came a gift and I was expecting a blue CCM bicycle. I have a photo of me with severe disappointment written all over my face while my sister is grinning from ear to ear, as we pose holding our new giant panda bears. I could hardly bear it. I  suspect that my parents were holding out for my birthday, three months later, but my disappointment was so palpable I think my father gave in before summer was over. 

And now I am experiencing a similar longing. I want to get back on a bike and discover Calgary along the bike paths. So heaven only knows what I might do this week-end.

Every now and then maybe we need to "just do it." The bike, the trip, the dream...whatever it is. For a country known for 'instant gratification "we are also a people who postpone, or put off until it's too late. And I don't want to do that either. One thing for sure, if I go for it, you will see the evidence here.

Enjoy your week-end.

As always, Trudy

Musings

It is time to put cancer in its place, so I have made a slight change to my blog title and simply call it - Joyful Wrecks: Reflections On Living...  We all shoulder heavy burdens from time to time and although we can feel "ship-wrecked" we can and do still experience so many joyful moments, even in rough waters.(and especially when the storm blows over :-) And yet in the midst of suffering and uncertainty, there is always something that emerges: a person, an encouraging word, a life-raft, an unexpected gift, a glance, another chance. Life begs to continue and we appear designed to keep on reviving and even thriving. And sometimes we don't. That is also true. 

Cancer changes you forever but so does marriage, childbirth, divorce, death and betrayal (those who have betrayed us and even worse, those whom we have betrayed ) - so many things. In a moment, everything can change and then it can change again. We are frequently caught by surprise.

These past 18 months have truly contained the "full catastrophe" of sickness, death, fear, joy and uncertainty. And it has been full of the "everyday" miracles. The fact that I/we wake up at all is one example. The luscious berries and fruit that I could not eat this time last year but can relish once again, is another. The ripe peaches and blueberries galore have never tasted so good. And yet I fear I may go back to slumbering and take all this "goodness" for granted.

First steps: After the slight change of name, I also changed my photo. Every time I opened my blog and saw that picture, I was taken aback at how I looked last year in January. Curiously, I thought, "that's not me anymore." And yet, no other photo seemed like me either. But today I chose the closest representation I have.

Second steps: I will  continue my blog in a slightly different direction. It will still be a place to gather poetry, quotations, reflections that I want to capture for my dear ones - an on-line commonplace book. One that Emmerson (or maybe it was Whitman) wouldn't have approved of but one that I enjoy nonetheless. It will continue to be what captures my eye and heart and nourishes my spirit in the beautiful and sometimes brutal everyday. Perspective.

Going forward I thank-you - dear, faithful readers. I have been nourished and encouraged by you. You shone the light through the cracks. May we joyful wrecks, all, continue to help each other, wherever we are and whatever our circumstances.

As always, Trudy

A Poem

I have the book of poetry that contains the poem you can read below, but I had forgotten about it until tonight when my friend Patricia (Improv Wisdom) sent me a copy. This is one of the joys of poetry and friends who love poetry. Even if it is a poem I know, love and have memorized, when I receive a copy by email or postal mail my heart gives a little leap of recognition, a bit like the leap of joy that happens when a good friend arrives at the door.

Today we spent the day at a friend's beautiful lakeside cottage, about 45 minutes from Ottawa. The seven hour outing felt like an entire holiday that included a ferry trip across the Ottawa River to Quebec, past fields of Queen Anne's Lace as in the photo, a tiny, twisty, gravel winding road through the woods, and the arrival at a sun-filled and soulful paradise for a few hours of enchantment, refreshment and friendly companionship.

It was a place where the magic of the following poem could have happened.

The Place I Want To Get Back To

by Mary Oliver

is where
in the pinewoods
  in the moments between
the darkness

and first light
two deer
  came walking down the hill
and when they saw me

they said to each other, okay,
this one is okay,
  let's see who she is
and why she is sitting

on the ground like that,
so quiet, as if
  asleep, or in a dream,
but, anyway, harmless;

and so they came
on their slender legs
  and gazed upon me
not unlike the way

I go out to the dunes and look
and look and look
  into the faces of the flowers;
and then one of them leaned forward

and nuzzled my hand, and what can my life
bring to me that could exceed
  that brief moment?
For twenty years

I have gone every day to the same woods,
not waiting, exactly, just lingering.
  Such gifts, bestowed,
can't be repeated.

If you want to talk about this
come to visit. I live in the house
  near the corner, which I have named
Gratitude.

"The Place I Want To Get Back To" by Mary Oliver, from Thirst

 

 

 

 

True Words

"What I’d like to say is this. Live fully every moment of your life. Do not wait for everything to be threatened before you realize the value of all you have.”

From The Dr. Will Not See You Now, by Dr. Jane Poulson, who died in her early 40’s. 
 

Something to Ponder

"Providence has hidden a charm in difficult undertakings which is appreciated only by those who dare to grapple with them."
 
Anne-Sophie Swetchine

Let's say,sometimes I find fool's gold and sometimes a gem. But grapple I continue to do. I had never heard of Anne-Sophie Swetchine, but her words ring true.Thanks to gratefulness.org for sending this to my in-box today. Wishing you all a good week-end.  As always, Trudy

 

Hope

 

"Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all."   Emily Dickinson

Thinking Out Loud about grief and mourning

I have been thinking a great deal about the customs of mourning these past several weeks. It appears to me here in North America that we are nudged to be "OK" as soon as possible following a death and never to impose our unhappy state on others. (except for the briefest of moments) In fact we reward those who act “normal” carrying on as though nothing has happened. We use words like strong, courageous, resilient, “bounced back” and so on. We are suspicious of grief prolonged. (prolonged being anything more than a few weeks)

 

I know that I have been caught in this web. I have experienced death a few times and in recent reflections realized that there had been no chance to grieve or mourn those losses. I was reminded of an old friend who took a sabbatical from work when his wife was dying and then stayed off work for six or seven months following her death. The latter had struck me, intuitively, at that time, as a wise thing to do, if not an unusual one.

 

I am now thinking that activity and staying busy and involved isn’t necessarily the antidote to grief. It may be for some but not for all.  “Time out” from all of our obligations including social ones may be good Dr’s “orders,” and not just for a month. (each person, of course, will  need to help figure out Dr’s orders for themselves)

 

Even though arm bands, veils, black garb, and drawn blinds are gone, it may be that we could benefit from a reprieve from our usual duties albeit in a sunny room, not a darkened one. A room where we don’t need to talk or greet or comfort another but where food magically appears along with a hot cup of tea from time to time, and where a fire is laid and burning.  A room where we can fall asleep in the chair and where fresh flowers adorn the single table and where the cold is banished.

 

A room where you are automatically excused for not taking calls or answering emails or from trying to cheer up. A room where you can still expect, at any moment, for your loved one to re-appear- where maybe it has all been a big mistake, until you remember- no - this won’t happen. This room would look out on to trees, and birds and water. There would even be a door leading to a path. But no fear of encountering anyone (no matter how dear) who wants to offer comfort or be comforted by you. A cloistered place where one is permitted to be alone with ones thoughts and fears and prayers and pain. And where no one else expects otherwise. No excuses are needed here to decline lunch or any social gatherings. No explanations are required.

 

One day in good time, (whenever that is) the desire awakens to move beyond the walls. It is different for everyone. No explanation for staying or leaving is required. Life does indeed move on but not easily or quickly for some and not at all by the timeline we typically use in our country. We speak a great deal about grief, the internal process of grieving. And we have few rituals for mourning-how we express that grief externally. I have no words either. Only glimpses these days of possibilities.

 

In Joan Didion’s book, The Year of Magical Thinking, she quotes a passage from Emily Post’s 1922 book of etiquette, which she found affirming after her husband of 40 years suddenly died.

 

“Persons under the shock of genuine affliction are not only upset mentally but are all unbalanced physically. No matter how calm and controlled they seemingly may be, no one can under such circumstances be normal. Their disturbed circulation makes them cold, their distress makes them sleepless. Persons they normally like, they often turn from. No one should ever be forced upon those in grief, and all over- emotional people, no matter how near or dear, should be barred absolutely. Although the knowledge that their friends love them and sorrow for them is a great solace, the nearest afflicted must be protected from any one or anything which is likely to overstrain nerves already at the threatening point, and none have the right to feel hurt if they are told they can neither be of use or received. At such time, to some people companionship is a comfort; others shrink from their dearest friends.”

I am holding in my heart those who mourn, especially the “nearest afflicted.” And I think I want to say that there is more than one right way to go through this pain, so that we can all remember to tread gently with our dear ones and ourselves. For some, companionship is the answer, and for others, solitude is what helps the most. (solitude doesn’t mean physically alone but the chance to be alone, even with particular others)

 

And these words won’t help anyone either but they help me to reflect on “loss” including my own losses but in particular what the loss of a beloved and lifelong soul mate can mean to the bereaved.  With special thoughts of M.

 

Love always, Trudy

Words For It

 

“One woe doth tred upon another's heels, so fast they follow."

 

 

Sometimes we simply do not have words for it.

 

For me the cumulative it that has left me speechless was the death of my dear friend John Stephure. It seemed and still seems impossible. It still seems unbelievable. It has seemed at times unbearable. It seems, although untrue, that I will be sad forever. And I cannot even imagine what my dear friend Meredith, who was married to John for 38 years, is enduring. And their children. And his siblings.  And all of his other friends who knew and loved him even longer than the almost ten years we did.

 

I have asked myself why this man’s death has left such a hole in my heart and in the hearts of his family, so many other friends, colleagues and acquaintances. I guess it is because of his own good heart. John’s heart was open, honest, benevolent, and full of fun and purpose and it was a “no strings attached” kind of heart. He sometimes (although rarely) wore his heart on his sleeve but it was always a living, breathing, beating heart that never resisted the “generous impulse,” never had a hidden agenda, and never missed the chance for laughter.

 

Rachel Remen, physician and author of Kitchen Table Wisdom, wrote “You can get a lot accomplished if you don’t care who gets the credit.”  John was able to make all kinds of things happen, large and small because he only cared that it got done. He didn’t want the credit.

 

It has been shocking to me that I find it all so unbelievable. The gap between my intellect and my heart is enormous. No matter how many times I have written and spoken about the “moment” and how anything can happen, and how precious life is, I cannot “get it” yet that John went for a Dr’s appt on June 10^th and died 18 days later on the 28^th of June, having never left the hospital. I find it impossible to imagine that I will not see that face nor hear that laugh nor have him as my teaching partner ever again. And beyond all that the additional loss of no longer getting to see him with others - how he was when he was with X or Y or Z. (and how they were with him) Or no longer getting to see that sunny face or the subtle and ever so kind ways that he quietly gave to individuals going through cancer and other difficult life challenges. And especially no longer seeing him with his beloved family.

 

I have no words of comfort for his loved ones. Every word sounds trite or a mere platitude. I have no words for myself either. It is the poets that I turn to for reminders. I think of Kobayashi Nobuyuki, who published Haiku under the name of Issa. When his beloved daughter died he struggled to reconcile the Buddhist doctrine he sought to embrace – that life is transience – with his deep desire to hold his child again. 

In the year 1819, in the sixth month, Issa, composed the following haiku:

The world of dew

Is the world of dew

And yet, and yet.

 

My friend Patsy after weeks of my silence, kindly sent me this poem from Rumi.

 

 Secretly we spoke,

that wise one and me.

I said, Tell me the secrets of the world.

He said, Sh... Let silence

Tell you the secrets of the world.

 

And Karen sent these words:

 

 “to love a person

is to learn

the song

that is in their

heart

and to sing it to them

when they have

forgotten"

 

And an old friend from Nova Scotia recently wrote that the way he has dealt with loss is “to place even more value on the friends who are still here, and magnify their importance in my life….” And of course it is what we can do. It is why we go on living after loss…to be with our loved ones as we continue to journey together and to appreciate them while we have the chance. And to experience the pain of loss is the other side of the gift of great joy and love. What a gift we all have in each other.

 

And so we need each other in this life of ours. We need to be reminded of what we forget, of how precious it all is.  We need to be held, to speak, to be silent, to weep and grieve and mourn as well as to celebrate. Together. We need to embrace our humanness. When we lose those we love, no matter how spiritually aware we are, we miss them. And it is mostly unexpected, no matter how prepared we think we are. It is a loss that doesn’t get replaced. We learn to live with it. There is now a missing pearl in the beautiful strand that makes up our lives.

 

I have been silent because I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I also didn’t know how to tell the joyful stories that also happened during this time, especially in Newfoundland. One day they too will be told.

 

For awhile, I am in Ottawa with my daughter, son-in-law and Sophie, who is now 3 yrs and 5 months. She is still the “Sophie factor” in my life and each day is a good day. Some people go to the “spa” to rejuvenate and I go to Ottawa to care for my Granddaughter. The effect is amazing.

 

Thank you for your notes. I am sorry to have worried you, dear readers, and dear friends. Life indeed goes on and the best way to honour John’s memory is to live fully. John was a gift in my and Gottfried’s life, and his death left me speechless. It is time to speak again.

 

With appreciation, gratitude and love to you all, and in memory always of John (who mostly liked my blog and wanted me to keep writing it)

 

Trudy

Saint John's Newfoundland: here we come

As those of you know, who are regular readers of my blog, I have a crazy Mother. Crazy in a sweet, generous-spirited, loving kind of way. She has invited me and my sister (in honour of my sister's 60th) to a week's holiday in NFLD. In addition to this wonderful gift, my daughter has decided to join us for five days as well. Imagine: four women who are not only related but who are wild about each other, ranging in age from 37 to 89.

We will meet in one of the oldest and the most far eastern cities on this North American continent. A city renowned for colourful picture book houses, music, laughter, and friendly people. My Mother (in fact we all) will fit right in. This will be a remarkable holiday and one we will all revel in as we allow ourselves to experience the magic of NFLD and the fun of being together.To tell you the truth, I can barely believe it is happening.

And, believing or not, this Friday, following the grand opening of Wellspring's beautiful new home, I will board a plane in Calgary and disembark about eight hours later in the rarefied "breathing room" (make sure you read the description of what this means)called NFLD. Funnily, I have been attracted to the full page ads about NFLD, in the Globe and Mail, for the past several years. And now I am going.

If all goes according to plan I will post a photo or two from our B&B in St. John's. There is certainly more to tell. And one of my favourite parts of this trip will be on my return where I have a planned three hour lay-over in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Watch for the next posting on how I plan to spend that time. You will then think my Mother's not crazy, it is her eldest daughter.

People have told me to bring more clothes since it is cold in NFLD, in the month of June. Since I already live in the "land god gave to Cain"- it snowed here yesterday on the 7th of June...need I say more. I'm not anticipating any environmental surprises in Saint John's.

with lots of love, Trudy

It Is Done

June 1st. The last infusion. One poke by an angel of a nurse called April, and an hour and a bit later, I was walking home. Fourteen months of showing up every three weeks.  What to make of it all? I looked around today at the crowded waiting room and I saw the new-comers and recognized the regulars. Every age and shape. What I mostly sense, however, is courage and hope and kindness. Yes, bitterness and disappointment and anger also appear as the whole catastrophe of life is represented in this space within the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. Yet, it is a lively, light-filled environment where people devoted to their work are doing the best they can to help us all along. I will be forever grateful for the help they have given me.

Talk about the joys of the unexpected, can they compare with the joys of the expected, of finding everything delightfully and completely what you knew it was going to be? Elizabeth Bibesco,  Balloons

When I read that quote today, I smiled, look at the name of the book it is from - Balloons. And today I too experienced the "joys of the expected."It was a glorious day.  Sweet dreams. Trudy

PS This digital bouquet of red balloons from Sheila was delightfully unexpected.

Sunday Morning

On the last day of May I am thinking about many things but foremost in my mind is the sheer exuberance of summer. Calgary doesn't have spring. We go from winter to summer and it is an overnight transformation. I wish I could invite you to my yard to see the crabapple trees in bloom. They are heartstoppingly beautiful. Every shade and hue of rose, plum and pink. And the yellow finches. The one you see here, perched on a branch of the weeping birch outside the dining room window. Today, this must be the most beautiful place to live. And I bet everyplace on earth has those days.

Today is, also, the day before my last herceptin.

March 31st, 2008 was my first chemotherapy and tomorrow June 1st, 2009 is the last time I go to the chemo lab for an infusion. I can hardly believe all of those months have passed and to think of what a long stretch lay ahead (or so it seemed) when I started out. I have much to be thankful for.

And today I also think of the irony that I get to celebrate my last treatment and others I know, along with many I don't know, will be told there is no treatment available for them. "It is all relative, dear Watson..."

Endings and beginnings. They meld into each other. And yet we do need to celebrate the little victories that come with our particular set of cards. Life and death pronounce itself daily. Maybe tomorrow I will buy myself a red balloon and get one for M too. Why don't we all get a red balloon and  celebrate the reality that we are alive and breathing and life is good, in this moment.  With love and thanks, Trudy

 

Musings at the end of May

May is wedding month for many of our friends and family and it is also the month to honour Mothers. And being a Mother is a forever responsibility and gift. Once a Mother, always a Mother. Before the month of May is over, I wanted to let you read this poem I stumbled upon, by Ellen Bass. Gottfried finds it way too dramatic but I suspect that any Mother (maybe some fathers too) who has seen a child happily married can identify.

The poem brought back a flood of memories of our daughter’s beautiful May wedding five years ago on Gabriola Island. A wedding filled with music, joy, love, laughter, family and friends. And the tears shed were those of happiness and gratitude for this amazing day and all of the wonderful people who were celebrating with us. And central to it all was the good fortune that Meghan and Graeme had found each other – the gift of kindred spirits.(I always forget when to use or not use apostrophes, so I beg forgiveness from the grammer police)

When I read this poem I realized that yes, I too, like the poet, had been so grateful on that special day that my daughter was alive, strong, healthy and gloriously happy. That she was here and it was her wedding day. It is not so, for everyone, and although I knew it then, it is with me everyday now. This precious, precious gift of life, with all of its tribulations, so easily taken for granted.

So allow me to extend a belated anniversary greeting to my daughter and her husband and a prayer of thanks to the universe for all of these precious moments, days and years we share together.  May we all live with awareness, how ever many days we have. With love, Trudy

After Our Daughter's Wedding by Ellen Bass

While the remnants of cake
and half-empty champagne glasses
lay on the lawn like sunbathers lingering
in the slanting light, we left the house guests
and drove to Antonelli's pond.

On a log by the bank I sat in my flowered dress and cried.
A lone fisherman drifted by, casting his ribbon of light.
"Do you feel like you've given her away?" you asked.
But no, it was that she made it
to here, that she didn't
drown in a well or die
of pneumonia or take the pills.
She wasn't crushed
under the mammoth wheels of a semi
on highway 17, wasn't found
lying in the alley
that night after rehearsal
when I got the time wrong.
It's animal. The egg
not eaten by a weasel. Turtles
crossing the beach, exposed
in the moonlight. And we
have so few to start with.
And that long gestation—
like carrying your soul out in front of you.
All those years of feeding
and watching. The vulnerable hollow
at the back of the neck. Never knowing
what could pick them off—a seagull
swooping down for a clam.
Our most basic imperative:
for them to survive.
And there's never been a moment
we could count on it.

"After Our Daughter's Wedding" by Ellen Bass from Mules of Love. © BOA Editions, 2002. 

Hurry Up - a poem by Kevin Griffith

TED KOOSER, former U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006, notes the following about this poem. American literature is rich with poems about the passage of time, and the inevitability of change, and how these affect us. Here is a poem by Kevin Griffith, who lives in Ohio, in which the years accelerate by their passing.

It resonated with me, only too clearly when I read this today.

Hurry

We stop at the dry cleaners and the grocery store
and the gas station and the green market and
Hurry up honey, I say, hurry,
as she runs along two or three steps behind me
her blue jacket unzipped and her socks rolled down.

Where do I want her to hurry to? To her grave?
To mine? Where one day she might stand all grown?
Today, when all the errands are finally done, I say to her,
Honey I'm sorry I keep saying Hurry--
you walk ahead of me. You be the mother.

And, Hurry up, she says, over her shoulder, looking
back at me, laughing. Hurry up now darling, she says,
hurry, hurry, taking the house keys from my hands.