Grant yourself a moment of peace,
and you will understand
how foolishly you have scurried about.
Learn to be silent,
and you will notice that
you have talked too much.
Be kind,
and you will realize that
your judgment of others was too severe.
Two weeks ago when my Granddaughter Sophie was here, the only time she cried was when she was getting her hair washed. One evening Opa asked her during the “hair-washing” what was wrong. She looked up at him with tears flowing, and said “sometimes it gets a little tricky, Opa,” and continued to sob for a couple of more minutes.
Now, although her Nana thinks she is absolutely brilliant, even I know that she hadn’t strung those words together on her own. She has obviously heard her Mom say this during a previously difficult time. And I know that Meghan has tried all kinds of ways to wash her hair and she doesn’t like any of them. So at the moment, when hair washing needs to be done, tears also fall and it is over quickly.
On the other hand, Sophie does know what she is trying to express with that sentence. Something like, "this is tough or difficult, I don't like crying and I wish there was another way." Shortly after her birth as I was writing to friends and family about this precious new addition I described her as congenial. And I still do. She doesn’t like to cause a scene so when something isn’t suiting her she tells her Mother but doesn’t announce it to the world. She doesn’t throw temper tantrums but rather explains what she wants and needs and her verbal skills are sufficient to be able to do so. But when it comes to hair washing this is a different story.
So when Opa asked the question, she would have preferred not to be crying and she was. She would have also preferred not to be having her hair washed but that was happening too. She perfectly expressed the tension that we all experience in negotiating difficulties: sometimes it gets a little tricky.
The last few days, I have felt much the same. I don’t like what is happening to my body and yet I know it needs to be done. In fact, having the “effects” I am having, shows me the chemo is doing its job. And yes, there have also been tears.
I was thinking about what Sophie said that evening and realizing how true it is. Trying to find a way to exercise my will, (more about that illusion another day) not wanting to feel how I was feeling, desiring to be courageous and not a complainer while at the same time being less than the model of loving kindness with Gottfried. And crying at the drop of a hat. For a few days, I would wake up feeling momentarily “together,” the phone would ring, and if it was someone I knew I would immediately burst into tears. (I learned quickly to not answer the phone)
And yes I thought, “sometimes it gets a little tricky.” And we simply have to live through it. There is nothing to fix, or change in this situation but rather to see it for what it is. An unpleasant experience that also has a good purpose. And “this too will pass."
Today there is a big improvement and I am learning to relax into what is. Maybe I will just get a hammock for the next and final round, and you can wake me when its over. With love, Trudy
Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering.” Winnie the Pooh
Pooh's advice is helpful - with thanks to JS. Love, Trudy
“Think of the magic of that foot, comparatively small, upon which your whole weight rests. It's a miracle, and the dance...is a celebration of that miracle.”
Martha Washington
Feet are on my mind, since my two feet aren't working as well these days. Amazing and natural how we take so much for granted. I wonder how long my appreciation will be sustained once things are back to so-called normal.
For my Canadian family and friends, enjoy the celebration of July 1st. I know my Mother will be dressed in red and white and relishing every minute of the day. Have fun. With love, Trudy
We have a friend Lydia who lives in North Vancouver. It has been a few years since I have seen her, and it is thanks to her perseverance that our friendship has survived. She is Austrian, loves nature, music and poetry, her children, family and friends and sees the world through an artist’s eye.
She has been like a spring of cool, clear, refreshment over these past few months sending beautiful photos, lines of poetry, encouraging words and offers of help of all kinds. It occurred to me once again how deeply I appreciate her efforts on my/our behalf.
Today I received this photo that you see, taken when she was out spending time cycling in back lanes with, “a little friend to allow his mother some time to work in peace and to bring me the joy of laughter and mischief with a young boy...This is what I saw amongst other miracles of nature.... I was thrilled to see this rosebush climb high up into a tree!”
So I simply want to say thanks, Lydia, for your joyful spirit and for taking the time to notice beauty wherever you go, and under all conditions.
Love to all, Trudy
Today it is 30 degrees in Calgary. The sky is blue, the air is filled with sounds of summer and I made a pan of muffins to have with Sheila and Jim before they left for the drive home. When they arrived this morning, they brought a bouquet of sunflowers, a special gift from a woman called Pat. We sat outside and talked about many things but not about cancer. (except to say that I am coming to the home stretch with chemo)
Yesterday, the weather was much the same and so were the people. The difference was that I was having difficulty even getting from room to room- one of the effects on my joints, muscles, legs and feet of this type of chemo is pain. Plus I was monitoring a fever, which was becoming very close to the “danger” zone. This too is an effect. In these particular circumstances there was nothing to be done for the fever or the pain but monitor and wait and so I did.
The best advice I ever received was to take one day at a time and respond to the conditions of that day. So, yesterday, meant trying to get comfortable on the couch, calling to cancel our previously accepted dessert invitation with relatives, checking my temp, not having a walk and doing what I could to stay cool. It meant making a couple of tel calls, reading my email, posting a short piece on my blog. It also meant asking for favours-help to do something's that I couldn’t do alone and shedding a few tears.
My experience of the day improved when I settled into what is rather than what I wished it to be. And when I woke up this morning at 6:00, I knew immediately that today would provide possibilities that hadn’t been available yesterday.
When I take it one day at a time, I eliminate the drama. So much of additional suffering is a mind game,
and working within the confines of a day make it possible to do what I can do rather than fight what I can’t. This was true before I had cancer and it is true now.
With thanks to my teachers who passed on this good advice. As always, Trudy
Yesterday I received a beautiful book from a friend. It is a manual of Epictetus with Calligraphy by Claude Mediavilla. I have always had an affinity to the stoics, especially Epictetus, so of course I have enjoyed perusing this small book.
One of the passages keeps leaping out at me, each time I pick-up the book, which is three times already. This is the suggestion.
Determine for yourself as of now
a way of life
a plan of conduct
that you will follow,
both when you are alone
and when you find yourself
with others.
Self-reflection is important all the time, but especially so when we are reminded that the length of our days don't come with a guarantee. I think about this "way of life", and variations on the theme and what it means to me. Some things are obvious and some are not. No matter our circumstances, conflicting purposes arise. Saying yes to this, means no to that. But one thing I know for sure is that heart, kindness, laughter, and generosity figure prominently in the plan. May I/we all choose wisely, and when we don't, generously choose again.
Lots of love, Trudy
Yesterday morning I received a virtual bouquet from Karen's garden along with this beautiful Mary Oliver poem that was unknown to me. What a beautiful surprise to read these words from one of my favourite poets. Now you get to read them too. Enjoy your day. With love, Trudy
Why I Wake Early
Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who make the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and crotchety-
best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light-
good morning, good morning, good morning.
Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness
Mary Oliver
For anyone remotely interested or concerned about this area, this is the place to go. Pat is a stellar researcher, a darn good writer, funny, poignant, thoughtful, poetic and wise. And it seems to me that everyone who knows her loves her to bits.
About 40% of women living with ovarian cancer end up with bowel complications--and so did my friend Pat Clifford. This blog is a way for Pat to catch friends up with an ever-changing health picture. It's also a way for other cancer survivors and caretakers who deal with the effects of cancer on the bowel to benefit from some hard-won experiences, tricks that have worked for Pat, and musings about how life changes constantly.
I have known Pat for less than a year and I also love her to bits. She is one of my favourite mentors on being a joyful wreck and I happily introduce you.
Pat Clifford's BlogLook for additional postings of good blogs on the right hand side of my page, above the books.
Our friends, Sheila and Jim, from 1000 Cranes fame, arrive today from Gabriola Island. They left home yesterday, by car, to drive the 1064 KM just to have a visit. How good is that! I know they are bringing more cranes, tickets to Dave Brubeck, who is performing at the Calgary Jazz Festival tonight and lots of good wishes. Since it isn’t a good time for me to go to a public event, my grandson Jonathan will go in my place. He is thrilled.
Friends. One small word that makes all the world of difference.
Friends trump cancer, health, wealth and all adversity. And as Aristotle said, “Without friends no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods."
I love and cherish all of my friends, old and new. With a special thanks today to Sheila and Jim.
We just came back from an hour walk. I was tired and weary before I left, and refreshed when I returned. I am convinced that walking is the thing to do, if your legs move at all. Whether you are tired, blue, weary, stressed, feeling unwell, want to improve health, relationships, creativity, productivity, you name it- take a walk!
I walked slow tonight but I walked. The air, the light, the birds, the green, green grass of the park, the river and the people: it all added up to refreshment, and being re-spirited.
And the one thing I know for sure is that I cannot rely on my feelings. The last thing I felt like doing was walking but I have a clear purpose, which is to walk out doors at least one hour a day. Kilometres don’t matter, but putting one foot in front of the other does.
So my antidote for almost everything is walk, walk, and walk.
Just wanting to pass on what I notice about how truly helpful walking is, especially these days, and also knowing how helpful it was before I had cancer. I offer it as one of my best recommendation’s for absolutely everything. With love, Trudy
PS We choose walking parks with lots of benches, so there is always a spot to rest if need be. The one hour walk can take longer, but it helps make it doable.
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters
and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
Like a shadow or a friend.
Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye
And kindness is what I have experienced all day. With gratitude, Trudy
A quick good morning.
Today I go off for my fifth round of chemo, knowing before I leave home that I will actually receive it. This is a new and exciting proposition for me, and one I attribute to the Sophie Factor.
Last evening we took a short stroll in the Silver Springs area to celebrate this novel event and were greeted by the beautiful Alberta Wild Rose. What a beautiful surprise. I suspect the wild roses are also blooming on Gabriola Island now. This is one of my favourite times of year, right next to the fall.
I wish you all a wonderful June day. Don't forget to drink all this beauty in.
With love, Trudy
A few hours ago I was speaking by phone with my dear friends from Vermont. I was talking about friendship. What I was reflecting on was my 61 years of knowing and meeting and being supremely blessed with incredible friends. I talk alot about friends and family these days because the truth is, it's the heart of the great matter of living and dying.
When I consider the twists and turns of my life and the great good fortune to love and be loved and what that all means, it is humbling to say the least. I have learned the most from family and friends. I am carried and bouyed by their kindness and efforts on my behalf.
I wonder today how this has come to be. When I think about God or Buddha or the Universe or Reality or whatever I mean by Mystery, the only think I know for sure is that I have been held my entire life in the palm of love, even when it may have appeared otherwise.
The advantage of being 61 rather than 31 is that you have the opportunity to look back and see the pieces of the puzzle fitting into place. And even the dark pieces in contrast to the "whole" begin to make sense. And even when they don't make sense, they are what they are. My life. Your life. And it is precious and human.
Today I get another chance. Not to be perfect but to realize that I get more moments to hum and sing and work and play and love and be bossy, mend fences, appreciate, act and respond to my circumstances right now. I plan and hope and dream but I don't want to assume anything anymore. Covey's quadrant of important has never seemed more real, while the unimportant has come straight off my "to do" list.
Which reminds me, it's about time I send Chuck my granola recipe, help Gottfried apply for Canadian Citizenship and get my personal directives finished. Not earth shattering but important for me to do.
With love to my friends and family on this beautiful Sunday afternoon. Trudy
For those of you who read my blog regularly you know I fail my blood tests every Friday before my Monday chemo. Yesterday was that 3rd Friday and since my latest chemo does even more damage to my immune system than the previous regimen, I was expecting the worst and as it turned out so was my Oncologist.
Imagine my surprise when I met with my nurse and we reviewed my blood work to discover not only had I passed, but my results have never been so good. We both presumed I had someone else’s report but apparently not.
My Oncologist consulted with a colleague and after ruling out any obvious infection, concluded that although most unusual we would go with these numbers. So it means that I get chemo on Monday and don’t have the additional blood tests.
What’s so human is that we always want the norm. Even now. Had my blood work come back with a passing grade-i.e., I met the minimum requirements, we would all be surprised and happy. Now it has come back so good that the celebration is tempered with the concern of why??
Since my Oncologist could offer no explanation, however, I’m going with the Sophie factor. Of course this is completely unscientific, cannot be proved or replicated in another lab, and as far as I know there are no clinical trials about to begin.
The Sophie factor is simply my experience of pure unadulterated joy everyday, all day, since Monday the 16th. When my Oncologist asked what was different, I told her about Sophie. She laughed and suggested that I have them come back for the third week of the next cycle as well.
So, since we don’t know “why,” I have decided to celebrate my healthy immune system, give lots of credit to Sophie and assume that my body is doing a fine job of taking care of what is out of my control.
Round five out of six on Monday. I look forward to it.
With gratitude, Trudy
“Everything is the way it is because it got that way.” (D’Arcy Thompson) with thanks to an old friend for this quote.
This morning when I heard Sophie call my name I went into her room and was greeted by her smiling face. “I 'woked up' Nana,” she said, with a look of delight shining from her beautiful dark brown eyes. "I 'woked up' too," I said to her. And then we laughed.
There is nothing like a two year old in the house to make you stop and enjoy the moments. Every little thing from cheerio’s, to blackberries, from an ant or a bird or her stuffed pig is sheer magic. Jumping in one spot, getting into her car seat by herself, singing and playing the toy piano, and relishing every bit of her vegetarian chilli. Passionate about life. Holding nothing back but giving herself away, all day long.
This week is such an added incentive to be a good patient. To do my part.
I am so deeply grateful that there are excellent treatments and good medical professionals dedicated to helping me get and stay well. I have every reason to have total confidence in my medical team. My hope that I can always do something to help my situation has never waned. And the encouragement and example of others is simply a god-send.
Everything else is gravy. Family, friends, colleagues, neighbours, and acquaintances have been nothing but phenomenal. I realize that I can never truly reciprocate. The only problem with living a long life is that the debt keeps mounting. I’m coming to see that there is no way out of that conundrum. And so I simply say thanks. With love and gratitude, Trudy
"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense."
Rumi, Quatrain #158 from Open Secret
The path of developing loving-kindness and compassion is to be patient with the fact that you’re human and that you make mistakes. That’s more important than getting it right. It works only if you’re aspiring to give yourself a break, to lighten up, as you practice developing patience and other qualities such as generosity, discipline and insight. As with the rest of the teachings, you can’t win and you can’t lose. You don’t get to say, “ Well, since I am never able to do it, I’m not going to try.” You are never able to do it and still you try. And interestingly enough, that adds up to something; it adds up to loving-kindness for yourself and for others. You look out your eyes and you see yourself wherever you go. You see all those people who are losing it, just like you do. Then, you see all those people who catch themselves and give you the gift of fearlessness. You say, “Oh wow, what a brave one - he or she just caught themselves.” You begin to appreciate even the slightest gesture of bravery on the part of others because you know it’s not easy, and that inspires you tremendously. That’s how we can really help each other. Pema Chodron
I love this little commentary from Pema but then I love almost everything Pema writes. Since I have been going through cancer treatment I appreciate this one even more, especially the last part. I have had the privilege to meet and observe so many incredible people who are brave in the face of adversity. Who are able to sustain their courage and perseverance even in the face of so much uncertainty and to do it not in short bursts but over the long haul. I am inspired and awestruck by who they are and they are my models and mentors of whom I want to become.
In the meantime it is seven times down and eight times up. With gratitude to the joyful wrecks in my life. You know who you are. As always, Trudy
Yikes! I'm late. Let's blame it on Sophie, my two year old Granddaughter who can't defend herself.
My family arrived intact although late yesterday. Apparently thunderstorms in the east wrecked havoc on air travel from east to west. Rob's flight arrived late morning and Meghan and Sophie had a seven hour wait in the Toronto airport before their four hour flight to Calgary-they arrived at 8:00 in the evening. Tired but happy.
My secret fears that Sophie would be a little timid of me because of my change in looks were quickly vanquished as there wasn't a moment's strangeness. Believe me I was grateful.
This morning Sophie and I made blueberry muffins, used the swings and slide in our friendly neighbour's yard, walked to the park and built a tower of lego in the living room. The sun has been shining all day, with just a gentle breeze, a chorus of birds are singing in our neighbourhood, and quite frankly I couldn't be happier.
To top it off Patti and Teresa popped by from Wellspring with a magnificent bouquet of flowers to welcome our little family. Nancy had dropped off a delicious lasagna for last night's dinner, Rob had set up the crib, and I am deeply appreciative of these days, the beauty, the help, and the amazing people in my life.
When Sophie wakes up from her nap, we will have our first tea party. With gratitude, Trudy
Today is the day that my daughter Meghan and Granddaughter Sophie come from Ottawa for a six day visit. At the same time my son Rob is arriving from Vancouver for a couple of days. I am sooooooooooooo happy to see them all again.
The sun is even shining for this special occasion and we will have a celebration every single day. We will use only our best dishes, and bake blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies.
Miss Bannerman from the Bureau heard that Sophie was coming and found the loveliest china tea set in a butterfly pattern all tucked into a wicker basket, and we will have a tea party every afternoon.
My lovely neighbour Tina just dropped by with a basket of toys and a special waffle maker that makes waffles in the shapes of farmyard animals. So our delicious whole wheat waffles with mixed berry sauce will be extra tasty-just like a B&B.
What a fun week we will have together. I don’t want to miss one moment of this special time: walking, swinging, drawing, reading, baking, laughing, singing…so many precious moments to enjoy.
Thanks to all those who have made safe air travel possible. 2600 km is only about five hours worth of air time, and I am glad I live in these times when this kind of travel is possible. I am also deeply grateful to be alive and well so that I can be part of these cherished moments. As always, Trudy
My two year old granddaughter Sophie has the best Dad. He knows how to change diapers, cook good food, work hard, read books, advocate with her Mom for a tricycle, dance and sing and play. He loves taking Sophie to the library on Saturday mornings, doesn’t mind her splashing in puddles, will always share a bite of his bagel, and never leaves home without a pink cloth. Be prepared, is his motto.
Sophie’s Dad is the kind of guy who does what needs to be done with imagination, generosity and enthusiasm. She is lucky to grow up with a Dad like this because she sees first hand that you can have grand ideas, go to Home Hardware for supplies and voila, a new work-in-progress playroom is underway.
Sophie has never heard an unkind word from her Dad. This doesn’t mean he is a pushover but it does mean he is wise and knows how to teach Sophie important things with great love such as: how to get along with others, how to enjoy her meals, how to take care of her toys, how to notice nature’s beauty, how to share with others and how to love life.
This dad of Sophie’s is hospitality personified. So Sophie’s extended family is often found visiting and thus Sophie from her first day of life got to know and love all of her family members. Speaking of family, Sophie’s Dad comes with a great one so we all know this is an added bonus in a child’s life: Grandparents, Auntie Jen, and more fine relatives.
The best thing about Sophie’s Dad, however, is that he loves and respects Sophie’s Mom Meghan. We don’t need any more research to show what a good thing this is in a child’s life. So Sophie is growing up in an atmosphere of love, respect, laughter, seeing first hand how to live well with another, how to solve difficulties, how to help each other and how to be the best that you can be. It couldn’t get much better than that.
Sophie’s Dad's name is Graeme and he is my son-in-law. It is no secret how I feel about him.
With love and respect, Trudy
There was once a king who commanded his wise men to make him a ring that would make him happy whenever he was sad, and sad whenever he was happy. They thought and thought, and finally decided that the ring should simply be engraved with the words, "This too shall pass."
Enjoy your Saturday. As always, Trudy
Aldous Huxley wrote the novel “Brave New World.” Toward the end of his life an interviewer asked, “Dr. Huxley, perhaps more than anyone else alive, you have studied the great spiritual and religious traditions of the world. What have you learned?” And Huxley answered, “I think we could just be a bit kinder.”
I was the beneficiary of extraordinary kindness in 1971, when I was 24 years of age. I have forgotten his name, but not him-I just refer to him as my guardian angel. He was an orderly in a French hospital in Ottawa and thanks to his dedication and caring I recovered from a car accident several months before the orthopaedic surgeon had predicted.
Following a bad accident on a hot July 1st, I regained consciousness in the recovery room of the Ottawa General to discover that I had a broken pelvis and collar bone while deeply convinced that I was also pregnant.
The next few days were difficult for the nursing staff as I stubbornly refused all pain medication and as a result would pass out/faint from the pain. I was determined that my unborn baby would not be exposed to any drugs that were potentially harmful.
My French guardian angel, who spoke limited English, appeared in my room at midnight, three days into my hospital stay. When we met he took my hand while questioning me on my reasons for being uncooperative. After listening to my story with his serious and open heart, he agreed to help me and help the nurses responsible for my care. “It is not good for you to be in so much pain, he said. “There is only one thing to do; I will have to help your healing through laughter.”
“The nights are quiet here,” he explained, “so I can spend time with you. And you aren’t sleeping anyway, so we will tell stories.” And that is how he began his ten-day midnight shift and I began my healing journey through nights of laughing and crying to his stories and songs, mixed in with the pain of broken bones and bruised ribs.
At first I would beg him to stop as the laughter worsened the pain, but he kept on, while holding my hand and fanning me from the heat. My suffering, however, began to ease. The fainting stopped. I soon could sleep for a few hours, and physiotherapy began. As the days went on and I was able to be lifted into a wheel chair, he started the next phase, which was to get me to eat.
“If you could have anything you wanted to eat in the whole world, “he asked me one night at two in the morning, “what would it be?”
“A pepperoni, green pepper and mushroom pizza from Mario’s Pizza,(not the correct name)” I answered instantly.
“You’re in luck, “he said, “I will order out right now and when it arrives, I will bring you down to the nurse’s station and we’ll all have a pizza party. I’m buying,” he insisted.
Eating began again.
And so it went. Caring, kindness, skill, devotion, humor, thoughtfulness, even his own money, to help a “patient” who was lucky enough to be there on his shift.
My daughter, born eight months later, and I are eternally grateful to this extraordinary caregiver of our lives. With lifelong appreciation and love,Trudy
I am thinking about Eva, who died on June 6th. I knew her for a short time but her presence in my life was an inspiration and a blessing. In fact she was the one who introduced me to the idea of all weather friend. I wish it weren't so that she died at 45. I too will never forget her. With thanks for the gift of meeting Eva. From one who wants to be an all weather friend, Trudy
In Blackwater Woods by Mary Oliver
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
The truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. Pema Chodron
Some people may feel discouraged when they read this quote as in "what's the use."
I am gradually starting to get the idea that it simply reflects the way things are. I finally get the papers organized and the plumbing bursts; I get the loan paid off and the car breaks down; I get the perfect job and my life looks like clear sailing and surprise, I get cancer; I vow to never say another harsh or complaining word to Gottfried and before five minutes are up I have been rude; ah! but wait, the office is finally organized and perfect and we spring a major leak that very same day, directly under the 1000 lb (only a slight exaggeration) desk.
Now, or rather some of the time, or maybe I should say once in awhile when things in my life fall apart for the 100th time I think something like, "of course this is what happens AND they will come together again." So rather than throw in the towel or browbeat myself, I call Gottfried (I wish I were kidding but these days it is true) - look what life is giving you a chance to do today, I declare. And the truth is, I do find assurance that tomorrow is a chance for things to fall into place once again, and we make sure we celebrate those moments. Now its time to fall into bed. With love always, Trudy
I told two women friends that I was being a bit of a wimp today, after I gave my litany of pain and complaints. I then added, "after all I’m not being persecuted and tortured behind iron bars and I’m not on death’s door, and I am still very functional. Maybe I need to go watch the African Grandmother’s video again." They reacted the same. I promised never to use the “wimp” word again.
The truth is, it isn’t helpful to compare our own suffering to others. It is relative to our experience. I believe it is helpful to acknowledge how fortunate we are, but I have come to the conclusion, at least in the last 20 minutes, that it doesn’t help anyone to line up suffering on a scale and plot a graph as to who suffers more or less. (or even who should be suffering more or less) It is an individual experience.
Take my two year old Granddaughter Sophie. When her Mother came to see me for four days in February and left her in the loving care of her amazing Dad and paternal Grandmother who adores her she had a few moments of suffering. She told her Mother on the phone, “I’m crying and I’m coughing and I need a cloth.” You need to hear the way she says this to get the full impact but I have used her line several times since I got cancer. (her “cloth” is a basket full of colourful little square cloths that she can choose from and holds in her right hand, which offers a certain comfort for difficult moments.) At that time a “pink cloth” was the favourite one.
We smile when we think about this because she is very good at articulating her state of mind and heart and expressing what she needs. This is a good thing. After a song with her Grandmother and good night stories from her Dad and kisses from both, she went off to sleep. Before she did, she said “I’m okay now.” In a way that sums up my own ongoing cancer experience.
Before cancer I was one of the fortunate few who mostly sailed through life with no health issues, other than my car accident in 1971. I didn’t even get headaches unless I missed my morning coffee. Cancer was a surprise and it took me from being a person who took no medication to one who says “bring it on.” “Whatever is needed I will do.” And along with that new experience came what are called side effects. I think a more appropriate term is simply “effects” as they aren’t much on the side but rather more front and centre.
So now what happens? A new surprise and a new learning curve begin as the body we once took for granted is no longer the same. Chemotherapy becomes an exercise in mindful living: special and timely practices are required for teeth and mouth, skin, food, hands and feet, plumbing, medications, fluid intake, exercise, and more. You learn what to do and not do to minimize undesirable “effects.”
The truth is, however, that you can do everything right and the effects still arrive or not arrive. On my first set of treatments I found it not so bad. Maybe I felt a teeny, teeny, tiny bit self-satisfied that I was doing better than I thought. When I would hear what others went through on the same protocol, however, I simply felt grateful.
On this new regimen I began last week I did everything as I should and guess what, effects landed on my doorstep. They have not been life threatening or incapacitating but they have been difficult to live with because they are unfamiliar, uncomfortable, scary, and I can’t help wondering when and if they would go away or if they might get worse. This has caused me to reflect yet again on the question of what constitutes (suffering), let’s call it distress or even moments of anguish as we speculate on the fear of the known and unknown.
I have come to see that within every perfect life there are imperfect moments, and insecurities that we all must face. I believed that as long as I had my health I could manage in this world. Even if I didn’t have lots of money, I would always be able to work. The truth is I thought good health was more or less guaranteed. It was my security blanket; a gift from a long line of healthy long-living ancestors.
Wouldn't you just love to step onto this path and see where it ends up? My friend Karen took this photo in her garden and sent it to me moments ago. She said in her email, "This particular pathway is meant to slow you down, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, leading to a beautiful place, a place of rest."
As I put one foot in front of the other today I was thinking of how blessed we all are to have an immune system. Until a few months ago, I certainly took mine for granted and now I think the entire thing is a miracle. Imagine the life force that so wants to work for us, to bring us to equilibrium, to fight infection and no matter how we wreck havoc with it, still tenaciously keeps coming back. So today I want to say thanks for the gift of my white blood cells and the baby neutrophills who work hard to help me with my healing. And I want to say thanks for all the good wishes and prayers and blessings that are with me every moment from near and far. I suspect that in the end there is nothing to say except THANKS. As always, Trudy
People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle. Thich Nhat Hanh
Two weeks before my son Rob’s 2nd birthday, we along with his Dad were involved in a July 1st car accident at the corner of Elgin and Albert in Ottawa. Rob and his Dad were unscathed, the little VW bug was a write off and I was removed unconscious from the car with the help of the jaws of life, (sounds very dramatic), and when I was revived, I discovered that I had a broken pelvis and broken collar bone. I was also newly pregnant but that is another story.
Rob was the dearest child and throughout that recovery time he was tender and solicitous beyond his years. By the time my birthday rolled around on September 13th, I was able to walk again, three months before my orthopaedic surgeon’s projected date. One day as Rob and I were taking the city bus to the Dr. I became nauseated and had to get off the bus. As we stood in the median, on that hot September day, and the bus pulled away, this little boy looked up and said, “Don’t worry Mom I will take care of you.” I recall being deeply touched by the sincerity of this little child and surprised at the actual relief and courage that immediately sprung into my heart. I was soon revived and we caught the next bus.
Today, 37 years later, this incident came to mind. I suppose it was inspired by the sunflowers. Rob has been planting, nurturing and tending to his balcony garden in Vancouver and because I too am interested in his little garden, he sends me regular photo updates. Today I thanked him for all those pictures and mentioned how I LOVED the sunflowers. The next time I checked my computer, I had an equivalent moment of “getting off the bus” and being revived, for there in my email was a dozen plus photos of the lone sunflower plant from all directions. The message said, “The sunflower was so happy you liked it that it insisted on posing for a few more pictures.”
In many ways we are all tender creatures and today I especially want to acknowledge Rob’s tender heart and his quiet, gentle, low-key approach to what’s needed. It hasn't gone unnoticed. This little golden thread winds along the decades, marking life's bumpy trail with love, gentleness, hope, perseverance and encouragement. With love always and heartfelt thanks, Mom
Greek mythology tells the story of Sisyphus, king of Corinth, condemned by the gods to Hades and eternal punishment. Endlessly he had to roll an enormously heavy boulder up a hill-and when it reached the top, it would roll down again. He struggled to bring the boulder to the top of the hill, only to watch it roll back down, over and over again, for eternity.
Sometimes, when we are going through difficult times, it feels like this. Today, and yesterday as an example, I want this treatment to be over and done with. My bones and muscles are hurting no matter what position I am in, I have developed thrush in my mouth, (which is being treated,) I developed a fever which is anxiety producing, nothing tastes right and it is hard to swallow. Relatively speaking, this still isn’t bad but today I would prefer to be done with it.
A favourite teacher, Charlotte Joko Beck, sets the question of “eternal” punishment aside in the story of Sisyphus and turns her attention to the simple fact that our ordinary interpretation of this story is that Sisyphus’s task is difficult and unpleasant. Beck shifts my view, however, when she says,
“yet all that happens is simply pushing the rock and watching it roll back, moment by moment. Like Sisyphus, we are all just doing what we’re doing moment by moment. But to that activity we add judgements, ideas. Hell lies not in pushing the rock, but in thinking about it, in creating ideas of hope and disappointment, in wondering if we will finally get the rock to stay at the top. “I’ve worked so hard! Maybe this time the boulder will stay.”…perhaps the boulder will stay at the top for a while, perhaps it won’t…the weight of the boulder, the burden, is the thought that our life is a struggle, that it should be other than it is. When we judge our burden to be unpleasant, we look for ways to escape.Part of the package is, “I just don’t want to do this day.” Acknowledging this, I am just pushing the boulder. “I go through the difficult day and I go to bed, and what do I get to do the next day? Somehow the boulder slipped back down the hill while I was asleep, so here I go again: push, push, push. “I don't like this… I wish there was someway out, but there isn’t, or at least I don’t see a way out right now.
When we truly live each moment, what happens to the burden of life? What happens to the boulder? If we are totally what we are, in every second, we begin to experience life as joy. Standing between us and a life of joy are our thoughts, our ideas, our expectations, and our hopes and fears. “It’s not that we have to be totally willing to push the rock. We can be unwilling, so long as we acknowledge our unwilligness…it is when our unwillingness drifts into efforts to escape, that we run into problems…”I’ll call up my friends; we’ll talk about how terrible things are.” “I’ll creep into a corner so I can really worry about how bad my life is and feel sorry for myself.”
When we entertain the rocks in our head, the rock of life seems heavy. Otherwise our lives are just whatever we are doing. The way we become more content to just live our life as it is, just lifting the burden each day, is by the experience of lifting, lifting, lifting. That’s experiential knowledge and intellectual understanding may evolve from it.
So today. What can I do today? I don’t have lots of ability to concentrate today, but I can take my medication, I can write this blog, (which is what I am doing right now,) I can do a little tidying up, I may have a nap this afternoon, and a walk around the block, and I can organize all of my beautiful cards from family and friends into one treasure chest so they will be ready to put into albums. What a joy to spend the afternoon doing that.
Walking’s not so bad. Pushing the rock up the hill, is doable. With thanks and love from a joyful wreck, Trudy
Little Owl Who Lives In the Orchard
His beak could open a bottle,
and his eyes-when he lifts their soft lids-
go on reading something
just beyond your shoulder-
Blake, maybe
or the Book of Revelation.
Never mind that he eats only
the black-smocked crickets,
and dragonflies if they happen
to be out late over the ponds, and of course
the occasional festal mouse.
Never mind that he is only a memo
from the offices of fear-
it's not size but surge that tells us
when we're in touch with something real,
and when I hear him in the orchard
fluttering
down the little aluminum
ladder of his scream-
when I see his wings open, like two black ferns,
a flurry of palpitations
as cold as sleet
rackets across the marshlands
of my heart,
like a wild spring day.
Somewhere in the universe,
in the gallery of important things,
the babyish owl, ruffled and rakish,
sits on its pedestal.
Dear, dark dapple of plush!
A message, reads the label,
from that mysterious conglomerate:
Oblivion and Co.
The hooked head stares
from its blouse of dark, feathery lace.
It could be a valentine.
By Mary Oliver
This special DVD I ordered, from Borderless Productions arrived today. I watched it and was saddened, enlivened, inspired and awestruck at the amazing stories of these grandmothers in Africa who are now raising their grandchildren because the parents are dead from HIV/AIDS. And quite honestly I can tell you that I have no reason to ever complain about anything ever again as long as I live. (Too bad this feeling won't last and I will continue to forget how lucky I am)
"Set between a tiny village and the largest slum in Africa, comes a story of two remarkable grandmothers. It is a story of countless sub-Saharan grandmothers who have lost adult children to AIDS and are now left to care for their orphaned grandchildren. With determination, tenderness and an indomitable spirit, these elder women now carry the hope for the future of Africa."
The Stephen Lewis Foundation (SLF) is the primary beneficiary of the portion of funds available that are raised from this documentary. Borderless Productions chose the SLF as they work with hundreds of grandmother groups, providing direct support to 140 grassroots initiatives in 15 African countries. The support they give is built on principles of sustainability and respect and helps to empower these women in their tireless efforts to improve living conditions, create safe and healthy homes and educate the furure generation of Africa. The film is designed to introduce us to these resilient grandmothers and the children and encourage us to take action through a five step "Take Action" program.
The fifth action step is to send money to the Stephen Lewis Foundation where you can designate a donation directly for the Grandmother to Grandmother Campaign.
When I see the priviledged life so many of us lead in this country and the medical care that I especially am receiving right now and can so easily take for granted, I could not rest until I passed this on. Thanks for reading and thanks to all those who are working for the grandmothers, especially my three friends Patsy, Karen and Fran. With gratitude for my life here in Canada and my treatment at the Tom Baker Cancer Clinic I was compelled and inspired to tell you about this as even through small donations we can help make a better life for these Grandmothers and children everywhere. I remain, as always, Trudy.
Patricia Ryan Madson: Improv Wisdom: Don't Prepare, Just Show Up
Gregg Krech: Naikan: Gratitude, Grace, and the Japanese Art of Self-Reflection
Robert Maurer: One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way
Arthur W. Frank: At the Will of the Body: Reflections on Illness
Greg Anderson: Cancer 50 Essential Things To Do Revised And Updated
Twyla Tharp: The Creative Habit: Learn It and Use It for Life
Anne Lamott: Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
Brenda Ueland: If You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit
Patti Digh: Life Is a Verb: 37 Days to Wake Up, Be Mindful, and Live Intentionally
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