Joyful Wrecks: Reflections on living...

The Secret Life of Bees

"It takes honeybee workers ten million foraging trips to gather enough nectar to make one pound of honey."  ----Bees of the World

We went to a movie last night: The Secret Life of Bees. Other than going to the gala opening of the Metropolitan Opera (broadcast through selected theatres) in September, this is my first movie since last January when we saw The Bucket List.

I enjoyed the movie, and the book. And of course the 60's backdrop in South Carolina was an unforgettable time with Martin Luther King, the passing of the "right to vote" legislation, and all of the hopes and pain implicit in radical change. This is however, a fictional story about the non-fictional power of love, with a happy ending. For that alone I loved it.  I am glad we went, and although Gottfried was one of three men in the theatre he liked it too.

When we left for the movie, it was chilly so I wore "fuzzy" on my head. I am now naming all of my hats. This a habit I picked up from Sophie during our Thanksgiving visit. She would say to me, "Nana, you're not wearing stripey today," or "Nana, take your sleep hat off and put on your day hat." Or "Nana, you're wearing 'wooley' today." Or "Nana, where's your 'cozy' hat?" And on it went.

Fuzzy arrived on Wed. in the mail; a gift from my dear friend Karen on Gabriola. It is knitted with beautiful greens,  hints of gold and turquoise and oh so soft, warm and cozy. Fuzzy and I have been inseperable since its arrival in my mailbox. There is a lovely warm energy to fuzzy just as there was a lovely warm energy in the beekeeper's home.

"Honeybees depend not only on physical contact with the colony, but also require its social companionship and support. Isolate a honeybee from her sisters and she will soon die." ---The Queen Must Die: And Other affairs of Bees and Men.

Thanks so much to my "sisterhood" of caring, loving, doing, being women friends. I surely couldn't have managed this past eleven months without you. And of course the same applies to my dear men friends too. I treasure you all.  With love, Trudy 

A Fall Day

Tuesday was another beautiful day in Calgary. This field and shed is typical of the scenes on Highway 1, heading west from the city. Fifteen minutes out and you are in this countryside. I never tire of the scenery whether it is golden fields, mountains, rivers or streams.

Today I enjoyed a walk to and from a Dr's appointment. I love it when I can walk to an appointment. Somehow I feel like I have done something particularly good for my health, when I walk, not to mention how it makes me feel, which is excellent. I'm also aware of how fortunate I am to be able to walk. Not everyone can.

The weather gods continue to be in fine spirits this last week of October. They just keep pouring on the sunshine and wind up the days with pink and blue skies and cloud formations washed with every shade of pink that are almost other worldly in their beauty.

Thinking of you all and sending greetings.  Love, Trudy

A life practice from Br. David Steindl-Rast

Try pausing right before and right after undertaking a new action, even something simple like putting a key in a lock to open a door. Such pauses take a brief moment, yet they have the effect of decompressing time and centering you.

This practice from Br. David coincidentally has support from Dr. Heather Palmer who developed the program Chemo Brain. This program addresses the cognitive decline that happens to many patients after undergoing chemotherapy.

When I heard her speak at Wellspring last January this was one of many practices she suggested for anyone going through "chemo brain" or suffering the loss of memory that sometimes comes along with aging. Imagine chemo and aging at the same time...Yikes! You now have a snapshot of my situation. Turns out Brother David's suggestion is good for our spirits and for our brain. Sounds like a good practice for me.

Monday Morning

Yesterday I spent the day at a breast cancer conference called Positively Pink. (I have to confess that the whole "pink" thing is too much for me but it has raised alot of money for research so I am not  grumbling) It was a great day with fascinating speakers like Margaret Trudeau along with cancer oncologists, pathologists, psychologists, and cancer survivors. The information and stories were current and relevant and I came away informed and inspired. The exhibitors were excellent, and  Wellspring was there with two of our fantastic volunteers. For anyone going through breast cancer or who knows someone going through it, this annual event started by Dr. Barb Whalley, Medical Oncologist at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre, is the perfect place to get up to the minute information on treatment, follow-up, advances in early detection and a whole variety of psycho-social resources.

The most inspiring presentation was delivered to a full house by Lisa Rendall. Lisa was born in a small town in Saskatechewan and while building her career as a radio personality, was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer at age 35. After eight years and an unbelieveable story of a first class medical team and her personal courage and determination her cancer remains stable. She continues to receive three different treatments per month and her personal mission is now to raise as much money as possible for breast cancer research.

Her presentation was called Living Proof and she credits herceptin, the treatment I currently receive, for keeping her alive. Since the start of her fund raising at C95 Radio Marathon in October of 2000, over 1.7 million dollars has been raised for breast cancer research at the Saskatchewan Cancer Agency This is an amazing amount to raise in a small prairie city. I was swept away by Lisa - her humour, her mission and her total dedication to helping others by raising money, telling her story and being a pioneer in the way she lives her life. She is a powerful presence and she concludes her talk by stating: "cancer lives with me; I don't live with cancer."

It is not everyday you meet a Lisa Rendall but when you do, it is a gift.

Have a lovely Monday and may you treasure each day. As always, Trudy

 

Excuses and Explanations

Good grief it is hard not to make excuses. Too busy,  too tired, not feeling well, the unexpected emergency, the pipes burst...it goes on and on. What would it be like to live an excuse free life?  "Do or do not..." says Yoda and that's the end of it.

I often feel compelled to give an explanation or explain why I am saying no, for instance, or why I am late or why I didn't do what I said I would do for the simple reason that I don't want to fracture my relationships. I'm sure I'm not unusual in this regard. I think most of us want others to think well of us. We don't want to believe and we don't want others to believe that this is our typical behaviour. It "feels" better if we all agree that this behaviour is, well, not MY norm, heavens no.

I have been thinking about excuses and explanations since my return from Ottawa. I had thought the "excuse and explanation" response to be typical of adolescent behaviour as well as being an adult response to navigating those areas where we don't want to say yes, or we have let someone down. But having spent a week with Sophie who is two years and seven months old, I now wonder if it is "built in." The desire, I mean,to preserve the relationship by finding an acceptable way to say "no," as an example.

Sophie ordinarily is willing to share what she has. On the Saturday of Thanksgiving week-end I had cut several cherry tomatoes in two and had given them to her in a small dish. We were outside enjoying the sun, and it occured to me that those tomatoes were looking rather tasty.

 I said, "Sophie could Nana have a tomato?

She looked in her dish, saw there were only two halves left, and looked me in the eye and said, "Nana, they're not quite ripe yet."

 I mumbled something profound, like "oh, okay then," and she cheerfully ate the rest of the tomatoes.

I was speechless that this toddler had not wanted to appear unwilling to share, so chose to give me a rational explanation that would allow her to keep the tomatoes for herself and avoid saying no. Now obviously she didn't think this through, as it all happened in a few seconds. But I was flabergasted and amused.

If this would happen again, I would be prepared, and let her know that I actually like unripe tomatoes. "I'll take my chances," I would tell her. But at that moment I was too surprised to have an alternate response.

I imagine that at one time she must have  asked her parents, in the produce section of the grocery store, for berries that were sour, and they would have told her that they weren't ripe yet and she recalled the explanation and the result was that she didn't get the berries. She has now discovered that this explanation works for her too. Logical and harmless in this case. She wasn't being devious. It is a sweet story of  "underripe" cherry tomato's and a two and a half year old who loves them and wanted to eat them all. Every single bite.

It has prompted me, however, to re-think how I use excuses and explanations to explain what I don't want to do, or to justify my behaviour. Surely if I have developed bad habits in that arena...well, ok, I have, I had best become more mindful of my words because they are bound to be fed back to me, at a different time and in a different context.

A child is truly the perfect teacher. Thanks Sophie, for the reminder, to see what I can do to cutdown on my own excuses and explanations. With love to all from Sophie's devoted Nana.

"He who cannot dance claims the floor is uneven." Hindu saying (a quote from Life Is A Verb)

The Art of Disappearing. By Naomi Shihab Nye

The Art of Disappearing. By Naomi Shihab Nye

 

When they say Don't I know you? say no.

When they invite you to the party

remember what parties are like

before answering.

Someone telling you in a loud voice

they once wrote a poem.

Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.

Then reply.

If they say we should get together.

say why? It's not that you don't love them any more.

You're trying to remember something

too important to forget.

Trees.

The monastery bell at twilight.

Tell them you have a new project.

It will never be finished. When someone recognizes you in a grocery store

nod briefly and become a cabbage.

When someone you haven't seen in ten years

appears at the door,

don't start singing him all your new songs.

You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf. Know you could tumble any second. Then decide what to do with your time.

 

Bill Moyers of PBS fame carries this poem around in his wallet. According to an interview he conducted with the poet, following his heart surgery eight years earlier, he took comfort in poetry and the one that helped him the most was Ms Nye’s, The Art of Disappearing. 

 

I too believe this to be a significant poem. It bears such a strong message of the preciousness of time and how we intend to use it, and the obvious truth that we never know when death will come. It confronts us all with the question of what is “mine to do” and what is “not mine to do?”

 

We cannot do everything. To say yes to this, means saying a dozen no’s to other attractive offers, and still we often delude ourselves that we have all the time in the world, so we make promises, at least implied, that we cannot keep.

 

As a person who likes to say yes to everything, but who cannot always follow through on all those yes’s, it is disconcerting to read a poem like this. At first blush, it seems selfish and self-centered and counter-intuitive to my goal of “living in a house by the side of the road and being a friend to man.” And yet, with the second and third and a dozen readings, it seems both wise and difficult. It suggests protecting our time for those things that are really "mine to do." It is a courageous and challenging poem. I give it to you because of those attributes.

 

As I reflect on what is “mine to do” I think of my passion for lifelong learning, for having fun, making memories, and supporting my family and friends. Although it is included I have to note my role as a Grandmother.  I think of my work at Wellspring, what I believe to be my calling, including teaching, and the writing of this blog. It is also “mine to do” to get healthy: eat well, exercise daily, have quiet time, and reserves to respond to the unexpected and unplanned. And of course there is so much more.  And if I am not clear or forget what is “mine to do” I can easily spend all of my time on the urgent and trivial with nothing left over for the most important. This I know for sure.

 

So, my dear readers, this poem makes me think and it reminds me to be discerning about what I take on, at least most of the time.  Thanks to all of you for including me in “what is yours to do.”  I am deeply grateful. As always, Trudy

You Have Been Asking about My Hair

Every blade of grass has an angel that bends over it and whispers, “Grow! Grow!” -The Talmud

As I look at my head each morning, I swear that my hair grows over night. I am now inclined to think that I also have an angel that whispers to each little follicle, “Grow! Grow!

When I talk about my hair (which is a lot) I get very excited because it seems like such a miracle that it is coming back. It isn’t red or curly YET, but it is still early so a cover of pepper and salt will suit me quite well for the time being. And of course there is always that stylist who can give me anything I want.

 Now, when you look at these photo's it won’t seem as dramatic as my excitement warrants. But not having a cynical bone in my body, except perhaps when it comes to politics, compared to bald, and compared to “goose down” it seems like an amazing amount of hair to me in a very short time.

This evening, for example, I could actually gather a little tuft together at the back of my head and give it a tug. ( using two fingers, that is, not a handful) I’m not exactly able to run my fingers through my hair yet, but I am delighted with what has returned. Hair is amazing! What more can I say. Enjoy yours. No such thing as a bad hair day. Lots of love, Trudy

PS You may notice on the second photo, if you click to enlarge, some eyebrows and eyelashes are  barely and slowly making their way back. You can also notice the still quite bald patch. This is normal and is on both sides of my scalp. You can't tell from this photo but hair is slowly making its return there as well.

        

 

 

Two Kinds of Intelligence

 

There are two kinds of intelligence: one acquired,
as a child in school memorizes facts and concepts
from books and from what the teacher says,
collecting information from the traditional sciences
as well as from the new sciences.

With such intelligence you rise in the world.
You get ranked ahead or behind others
in regard to your competence in retaining
information. You stroll with this intelligence
in and out of fields of knowledge, getting always more
marks on your preserving tablets.

There is another kind of tablet, one
already completed and preserved inside you.
A spring overflowing its springbox. A freshness
in the center of the chest. This other intelligence
does not turn yellow or stagnate. It's fluid,
and it doesn't move from outside to inside
through conduits of plumbing-learning.

This second knowing is a fountainhead
from within you, moving out.

 

From the translations of Rumi by Coleman Barks

 

In the book Heal Thy Self, Saki Santorelli, a colleague of Jon Kabat Zinn, suggests a liitle exercise to accompany this poem. He asks us to take time today or during the week to stop and sit for a few moments and notice our breath gliding in and out of the body. As you sit allow yourself the possibility of settling into "this other intelligence that does not turn yellow or stagnate."  Nothing to acquire, no test to pass, just to be still.

 

As you, dear reader know, I love poetry and the poet Rumi. This tiny exercise is a reminder to slowdown, breathe and be still. Heaven only knows what can come of this kind of practice.

 

Have a lovely Sunday. With love, Trudy

 

Thriving

Last night I attended the opening of the 2008 International Health Work and Wellness Conference. Having participated for the last nine years as either speaker or volunteer, the HW&W team are another community close to my heart. It so happens that this year’s conference is being held in Calgary and they kindly issued an invitation for Gottfried and I to come by for a visit and we did.

 

Imagine my surprise when I met colleagues and friends from past years who said “Trudy, you are glowing.”  Imagine that. I even had compliments from strangers on my hat, the one that Sophie calls “stripey,” who didn’t realize I was wearing it because of my mostly bald head. And then the comment that left me dumbstruck came from a presenter I know and like: she looked at me and said,”Trudy, you look healthier than you have for the past couple of years. You are thriving.”

 

I don’t think this was generosity and they are not speaking of beauty as we tend to view it. And I’m not telling you this out of vanity but rather out of a desire to share the joy of health being restored. It is true that I am still undergoing treatment and of course there are things not quite working up to par but I looked at myself later in the mirror and thought “hmm...you still don't look like how I remember you, but it's true there is a glow and a spark. You are indeed thriving.”

 

 

I prefer for myself, to use the word thriving rather than surviving because for me it is more powerful, more vital, and less like I just managed to make it through. I also understand the idea of survivor but I don’t really resonate with the word. But beyond the words of thriving or surviving, whenever we do come out of a difficult challenge, health or otherwise there is a sense of triumph. At this moment I am quietly and joyfully reveling in this new found sense of well-being.

 

Thanks to all of you from the bottom of my heart. I am convinced (without benefit of a clinical trial) that all of you dear faithful family, friends and readers have contributed enormously to my recovery.  You have my deepest thanks. With much love,  Trudy

Joyful Morning

 

Today I woke up and was struck by a wave of unadulterated joy. Where did it come from? Who knows? Especially on the morning after the "non-election." (this is as political as you will get from me)

 I am not a moody person so I almost always wake-up cheerful but every now and then I have a wave of joy that rather bowls me over. This happens to be one of those days. So today I am overflowing with gratitude for all the goodness in my life from home and family, living in Calgary at a time when it has made such a difference to me, my returning strength, hair and eyebrows...the sale of my Mother's condo, my wonderful Wellspring where I will return in January, my treasured friends old and new, my precious children and grandchildren, the Photographer in my life, the ability to see the beauty all around, books and music and, good grief, I could be here all day listing things off. A bubbling spring of joy is always there, I suspect, but sometimes it comes to the surface and I/we have a clear awareness of how very precious life is, this moment, this day. I can only say thanks for the bounty. The hardships too. There have been gifts in all that has been. With love, Trudy

PS I just received a new text editor from typepad so I have more flexibility with fonts and colours etc. It looks like more learning to do and fun.