The Rattle Bag: Dances with Wolves, Translations, and Gun Control

Living in D.C. in my early 20s, I remember discovering a bookstore called Kramerbooks and Afterwords, which I loved the way book nerds like me love bookstores.  Which is to say, I felt totally cozy and at home there.  Independent bookstores often effect me as church or museums do - I get solemn and sense a connection with Big Things.  With my very little expendable income, I picked up a poetry anthology called The Rattle Bag, edited by Seamus Heaney (the Irish, too, do something romantic me) and have picked it up periodically and read and appreciated for the past 20 years.  In part, what I take the word Rattle Bag to represent is a hodge podge - a poetry book full of interesting poems, related only by the fact that the editor liked them.

So today is a Rattle Bag of some ideas I've been working through and a couple bits that have been helpful that have stumbled across my path recently.

First, I want to share with you, that it's my intent to start work on a book in 2016, and perhaps finish it too.  It will be part anecdotal/memoir and part self-help workbook/journal for readers.  Through work and life, I've experienced a variety of interesting, joyful and even harrowing things, and certainly been witness to others' lives and through the past 15 years, I've journaled almost every day.  It's an important part of how I stay truthful with myself, how I feel connected to myself and other people, how I work through puzzles and pains.  If you are interested in reading bits as I go along, let me know.  In that spirit, I offer you a new exercise that I've been using in my own journaling, and that I plan to include in what I put together in a larger picture in 2016.  Here goes:

Over Thanksgiving weekend, my family and I watched Dances with Wolves together and I was struck by something that had never resonated with me in the same way before - the meeting of the Sioux to decide what to do about John Dunbar (Kevin Costner), who they'd found living alone at the soldier fort.  Sitting around the fire, the Sioux men met and each had their say, which was listened to fully and seriously by the other members of the tribe, including the chief, Ten Bears.  The men spoke one at a time and paused to take in all that the other man had just said - one man was angry and vengeful, one man was curious, maybe each man had a slightly different opinion, but he was fully heard.  Then, Ten Bears, after taking it in, made a decision - that no decision had to be made at that time.

From a psychological perspective, I loved this as a metaphor for how we might better solve problems or questions in our lives - i.e., what should I do about the problem at school, at work, with my friend, with my sister, with my spouse?  Many people react quickly without thinking through all the different internal responses they are having.  Other people get so stuck in pondering and puzzling that they never do anything.  But the important part is, that in order to proceed with wisdom (even, if your decision is to do 'nothing' at this time,) every part of your personality needs to be heard fully.

In puzzling out how to deal with my own kids, who have been bickering, fighting, complaining and hitting each other recently, I drew out a big circle on a piece of paper.  I put a small circle in the middle and pie pieces coming from the middle circle to the outer edge.    On each pie piece, I wrote a feeling that represented a member of my internal 'tribe' and what that member would say at a tribal council.  For example:  Disgusted/Exhausted, "I'm sick and tired of all this fighting"  Or, Failure, "They fight because I didn't teach them well."  Or, Normal, "It's normal for brothers and sisters to fight like this."  In the end, I had seven representatives on my council, each with a different feeling about the same problem.  Then,  I imagined what the chief would say after having listened to all the different parts of me.

What I noticed after I wrote all this down, is that I felt much more peaceful about the problem than I had before I wrote.  I needed to consciously acknowledge that I was being driven in part by guilt and feelings of failure, but after admitting that to myself, the "chief" also saw that it was best to listen to the voices that said be both consistent with consequences and patient because this is normal.

I just want to encourage you to try something like this, if you are grappling with a problem right now - what are all the different ways you feel about it - even if they are illogical, unattractive or silly?  Don't try to impress yourself, just be real.  After knowing ALL the different ways you feel, what makes most sense?   Feel free to let me know how it goes - I'd love to hear if this works for you in bringing a greater sense of quiet to a problem that's kept you stirred up.

And of course, in my Rattlebag this month has been deep sadness about the gun violence in our world (we can't just say the U.S., now), terrorism, and rage in general.  A young person I know recently shared with me that the root of the word 'sin,' really translates to 'missing the mark' (it actually had to do with archery).  I am a person who gravitates toward words and religious words have power for me, even if I am not a dogmatic at all.  Sin can be such a polarizing word - lots of non-religious people sort of roll their eyes at it.  Yet, missing the mark is a concept that resonates beyond the religious.  I think about the overlap of the metaphor -  of shooting, missing the mark or hitting the mark, good and evil, peace and violence, injustice and justice.  Each of us must look at our own thoughts and actions.  Where do we 'miss the mark' in our thinking, feeling, or how we treat others?  I know I say it all the time, but our little bit counts in ways we can never fully understand.

And finally, I have been thinking a lot about gun control and what the nuances of that mean to me.  I could go two routes - one, is that I do understand that many people feel extremely threatened and perhaps rightfully so, in willy nilly changes to the Bill of Rights.  This is how the Second Amendment reads:  Amendment II

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

I just want to pose a genuine question, in tribal council mode:  Would the Founding Fathers, given today's technology with firearms, adhere to this?  I truly wonder.

But the second route I go is more practical, I suppose.  I understand that many people who don't hunt or otherwise use firearms are confused by the differences between semi-automatic, automatic and assault style weapons.  My own son is a hunter and enjoys trap shooting, so I've learned a lot more than I ever would have known otherwise.  I believe that as a society, we must implement regulations that slow the legal processes of acquiring firearms and maintaining them.  I don't believe that solves the problems we are facing, but does that mean we shouldn't do it?  We should do all the things we can to create a common sense society.

That's the Rattle Bag today, I suppose.  And one more thing  not to be forgotten - hopes and wishes for your family to enjoy a December that is gentle and full of love.

The Times They Are a Changin'

For a person who makes her living essentially helping people to thrive in or at least cope with change, it might be surprising just how mixed up I myself can feel when change happens in my life - even good change.  Or little changes that can bring with them some weird baggage.

Case in point:  we live in a really old house - it was built in the 1860s, and though many updates have been made by various owners over the years (thankfully, we have indoor plumbing), we don't have a 'master suite', unlike many newer homes.  The four of us in our family all share one upstairs bathroom.  Even though we have a downstairs full bath, it's more convenient to shower by the bedroom.

Yet, the kids are getting older. My son and I have had a couple blood curdling (for him) run-ins when our downstairs toilet was broken and I was in the shower upstairs.  The kids don't neatly fit around the sink to brush their teeth at night and the screaming and shoving matches at tooth-brushing time are more frequent and ridiculous.  So over the weekend, my husband announces that he thinks the guys in our family should start using the downstairs bathroom.  And I'm like, "Great idea!"  But, then a little part of me gets sad (I know, it's weird).  A little part of me is sad because the kids are growing up.  What if spreading apart in physical space means growing apart?  Listen, I know it's crazy.  I'm just saying that that one little change, which is really a good thing and shows an acceptance of our family reality, has it's own little moments of grief.

Another bigger change occurred in my life in the past couple of weeks.  For twelve years, since I became a mom, I've worked part time Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and two Saturdays a month.  My weeks had a consistency and rhythm.  It's just what I did and how I did it.  Recently, I was given the opportunity to change my days to Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday and two Saturdays a month - and suddenly it seemed like this amazing opening of time.  I hadn't realized how much I needed it until it was offered to me - a way to feel a sense of being more present - both present at home on my home days and present at work on my work days.  A way for me to organize and compartmentalize my time.  What an opportunity.  And last week was my first week of that change.  It felt great!  But it also felt uncomfortable.  It felt uncomfortable because it made other people uncomfortable.  My change impacted my office mates in some good ways, in some ways they didn't like, and in some neutral ways.  It made me kind of itchy on the insides because one of my issues is not being an issue to other people.  It made me itchy on the insides because I'm a person of routine and my routine is shaken up.

I've been thinking about changes in our community/public life too - what change is happening, what it will look like, what part do I want to play?  I am thinking today about my church and minister which is taking an active role in allying with the Black Lives Matter movement, and the football players at Mizzou.  Something is changing in our racial culture and St. Louis and Missouri are an integral part of it.   There is conflict, discomfort, burnout, dread.  There is great discomfort on the part of both black people and white people.  Change is happening, we just don't have the perspective of time to know what these changes really mean and what they will look like - it's not as simple as changing your workdays.

Most of us don't make changes in our lives until way past time.  That's how hard change is.  Most of us go about our days, not realizing that the feelings of discontent or burnout or lack of energy or creativity, the negative relationships, or the dread, are all indicators that change is wanting to happen.  Change starts telling us it's needed or imminent, if we pay attention and are willing.  Change can be internal (how we think about something) or external (how we do something). Change will happen whether we want it to or not, whether we are ready or not.  Sometimes we know exactly what needs to change, sometimes, we don't know what, but something needs to change.

Listen to your life.  Look at what's happening in your life as if you've never seen it before.  It's not right or wrong, better or worse, to make a change happen versus let a change happen.  The real wisdom is accepting the change.  Just accepting it.

My mom will sure love the title of this blog, because she raised us on protest and folk music of the 60s - it probably shaped the deepest parts of my brain in ways I'll never fully know - so I might as well leave you with a little Bob Dylan, who talks in his own way about acceptance, too:

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'

Read more: Bob Dylan - The Times They Are A-changin' Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

My Cure for Loneliness

It seems to me that most of the things that I've done 'right' in life (my criteria for 'right' is that so far they seem to have worked out well and had positive results over a period of time) have been mostly an accident.  I tried something and it worked and I kept doing it and it kept working.  So here's something:  I feel connected to other people and I really like most people.  I count myself lucky in that way because I sometimes hear from others that they feel lonely and disconnected and don't want to feel that way and wonder what they can do to change it.  It's made me wonder what it is that I've done 'right' - why don't I feel that way?  So here's what I'v come up with...

Utter helplessness.  I feel connected to and caring for and liking and loving most people I encounter as a practiced response to utter helplessness in the face of death.  I guess this means I'm getting ready to tell another hospice story - 

When I worked in hospice, I often listened to the Be Good Tanyas while I drove around the city, county, and rural Missouri - a cover of the Neil Young song, For the Turnstiles.  The line that just got me in my guts was this -  'Though your confidence may be shattered - it doesn't matter.'   I came into social work like most good-hearted sorts of people -  naive and probably a little irritating in our naivete or hubris - "I just want to help people,'   But in the face of suffering, death, poverty and grief, I often felt helpless to help people.  I quickly felt small.

So I went into Observer Mode - like noticing what helps and what doesn't as if I were gathering information for a research project.  And what I saw was not every situation was bleak - sometimes things made a positive difference, even if it wasn't me.  I wanted to find a pattern in that - what alleviates suffering, what helps?

I think of a man with late stage Alzheimer's, whose daughter came to the nursing home to have lunch with him literally every single day.  He couldn't even remember her name and if you asked him about his daughter, he would say,  "She never comes to visit me" in a bitter and lamenting tone.  When he was finally dying, his daughter was stricken at his bedside. The nurse, an outspoken little Peruvian lady commanded the daughter - "Tell him you love him!  He is waiting for that."  When the daughter said, I love you, Dad, he sat straight up in bed after not having been able to sit up for days, and looked her right in the eye.  In a few hours, he died.  

I also witnessed less dramatic moments - another patient who had lost an adult child and had been on the receiving end of generally bad luck.  In her late years she had become a lonely person, a hoarder, and lived in conditions that were quite overwhelming due to all the papers and junk in the house.  Yet she was a sweet, gentle spirit and the hospice team really cared for her because she was with us a fairly long time.  I don't think she had a very happy life, but I think the tenderness and care she received from extended family and hospice caregivers made a true difference in her quality of life and thought there was no pivotal moment of healing or change, I think she died feeling cared for.

So, what I began to notice was that love makes a difference.  Some form of love that in Christian or Western tradition is called 'agape' - which means,  the highest form of love, especially brotherly love, charity; the love of God for man and of man for God." (that's from Wikipedia)  You might not be able to do much to change people or circumstances, but what happens, what opens up for someone when they feel your openness to them?  When they feel heard and seen?  When they feel liked?

I started saying to myself before I went to go visit a new patient - try to find something to love about them.  When someone looks or feels like you on the outside, that kind of connection or love isn't that challenging to find, but if someone is very different, it can be harder.  One patient that comes to mind is an African American man living in North County - his home was in disrepair and he had a fish tank overgrown with green slime, a  big dead fish floating in the tank.  I was challenged to not judge these circumstances, but what I found in being open and not judging was that he and I had something important in common.  He shared with me that he had been a 'go go go' person in his youth and health - he was a do-er and his illness had robbed him of that.  I felt I was a go go go person too and I wondered what illness and lack of financial resources would do to me.  I felt connected to him because I looked for what we had in common, not what separated us.  And he was kind enough to be open to that.  After lots of hardship in life, not everyone is willing to be open to others - so I am grateful for that experience.

I think this started to become a habit for me - instead of worrying about whether other people like me, I flipped it almost all the time.  What do I like about them?  What do I see that's wonderful about them?  The result, for me, has been a feeling of welcome in the world.  I don't mean that I think everyone likes me because I like them - there very well may be people who don't like me at all, don't care if I like them, and God knows what else.

But again, what happens when your confidence is shattered?  What happens when you are willing to be vulnerable, as Brene Brown http://brenebrown.com/ so often talks about.  What happens when you're willing to give up trying to create an impression about yourself.  I'm speaking only from my own experience when I suggest that instead of worrying about what others think of you, think about welcoming someone else, seeing something unique and beautiful in who the other person is.  You can almost always find that thing if you look for it and when you see the unique and beautiful thing in another person, you don't feel alone or disconnected - you feel all the things most people want to feel - gratitude, joy and delight.

To a**hole or not - how I spend my time and words (after a thought-provoking question from a friend)

A dear friend wrote me recently after reading my last blog post and asked me this question:..."what about the people who don't care if they do wrong and aren't looking to correct or make amends for their mistakes?"  I wrote back and said something like, "well, now you're asking me about a**holes and I need to think more clearly about what I think of them or how I deal with them."  So this post is my take on that.

It seems like it's timely because there have been several of them in the news lately.  Donald Trump and Bill Cosby come to mind.  But before I say anything more about that, I hope you'll indulge me in a little story.

About two years ago, I was driving down my street, which happens to be a pretty busy thoroughfare.  My kids, who were in 2nd and 4th grades at the time were complaining loudly - it was after school, they were hungry and we were heading to therapy.  And despite being children of a therapist, they look at therapy like most kids who have to go to therapy look at it - basically as torture.  But the reason we were going was that our family was in a terrible crisis.   My husband and I were separated and it looked like we were heading for divorce.  I was working, taking care of them, and thinking that my marriage and life as I had hoped it would be was over.  I was almost at my wit's end.

So the kids are complaining (maybe one of them was crying even?!) in the backseat and we were running barely on time for therapy.  And there was longstanding street construction on our road that entailed a detour, which was totally a nuisance at that moment.  I knew the construction project was almost complete and it was around 5 pm on a darkening October day.  I noticed the truck in front of me going straight down the road rather than taking the detour.  Multi-tasking, I continued to encourage and/or berate my kids in the backseat while making the split second decision that the construction zone must be re-opened and that since the truck in front of me was going through, I could too and thank God, because that will shave 2 minutes off my drive time and be ever so much more convenient for me.

But I was wrong.  The truck was a construction truck and in fact, was entering the work zone to work.  An older gentleman from one of the neighborhood homes happened to be out in his yard as I realized my mistake and began the process of a 10-point turn to get myself out of the work area.  I soon saw that he was screaming at me from his yard, something like, "Don't you read?!?   The road is closed!  I'm sick of you people who think you're above the rules!!"

"I'm sorry!"  I sheepishly grin, using my cute lady persona.  "I'm just doing the best I can."

"No, you're not.  You're not doing the best you can!"  he yells back, face contorting in rage.

Now, I'm offended.  Screw him.  Doesn't he know I'm probably getting divorced, my children are miserable and I'm driving them to therapy after a full day of work?!

"I'm sorry you're such an angry person."  I retort indignantly, as the kids are hiding on the floor of the backseat totally embarrassed by my talking back to this man.

(Most of you know, the larger picture ends happily because my husband and I were able to reconcile and not only repair but renew our marriage.  And our kids are wonderful and goofy like kids are supposed to be and we all get support from friends, family, therapists and community and we are all in a much stronger place to give that support to others too.  But this is not a story about reconciliation and renewal.)

This is a story about being an a**hole.  So, when I think about being an a**hole, I think it means saying or doing whatever you want, whatever feels good or easy in the moment without care or concern about how it impacts others.  In the story above - I was kind of an a**hole, even though I felt justified in the moment.  Though my neighbor could have been more gracious toward me, and must less a**hole-ish himself, I did not take into account what it must be like to have construction in front of your home for 6 months, or what it must be like to have the confusion and noise of unheeding drivers right next to your home.  I felt that my personal misery gave me the right to do what I wanted without regard to him.  Or hoping I wouldn't get caught.  I don't beat myself up about this, I feel compassionate toward myself in that moment.  And I also feel compassionate toward him.

So, here's where I come down on "What about people who make mistakes and just don't care.  What about people who do wrong again and again and hurt others?":  Spend as little time focusing on those people as possible.   If I focus too much on people who are doing wrong, maybe I feel temporarily superior.  Maybe I feel good because I'm on the side of being 'right' and they are on the side of being 'wrong.'  But chances are, if I think too much about them or my rage about them, I start to become more selfish, more intolerant, more cruel.

In many ways, I am one of the least naive people I know.  I have worked with children who have endured terrible cruelty at the hands of people who were supposed to take care of them and love them.  I have seen people kill themselves with drugs and witnessed the wake that leaves behind for their families.  I've been in homes where people don't have enough money for food or medicine for their children.   I cannot deny the existence of bullies like Bill Cosby or Donald Trump in the world.

But, I don't even like the word a**hole, though I guess I've used it for some effect while I've written this.  It reduces people to objects.  Even a person who embodies the worst of humanity is still a person.  If I reduce them to a stereotype or a slur, I make them an object in the same way that I am pained that women, children, and in our society, non-white people are made objects.  When people are made objects, all sorts of heinous things are done to them.  I don't want to add to that.  It's all inter-related, so I must do my part

Here's my answer, Friend, long though it is:  Let's think more about the front end than the 'back end'.  If I am kind and you are kind, love grows bigger in this world.  I think that's the best we can do.

what I learned from Boy Scout camp

My son recently got back from a rain soaked week of Boy Scout camp.  When I went to go pick him up, besides being disgusted by the smell of soggy pre teen boys, I was impressed that he'd toughed it out for a week under the 1960s type conditions.  In fact, I think the camp has been relatively unchanged since the 1960s.  The tents were canvas "A-frames", about 5 and half feet tall, with canvas 'doors' that don't zip shut.  There are 2 to 4 cots per cabin, situated on a 1-inch tall wooden platform.  When it rains, the water just flows under the little platform and the current carries the water through the tent and out the other side.   When I say that everything my son brought to camp was wet, that is no exaggeration.

So we loaded up all that stinky, wet stuff  in my car and we were off.

Driving home from camp,  I was also quite impressed when he piped up, philosophically,  "Mom, I made a realization yesterday."  (He is not a very philosophical type.  Though in my mother's heart, I harbor the secret hope that he is philosophical and just doesn't share that part with me).

He went on to say,  "I've just realized that is takes a lot of blunders and mistakes before you get something right."

(Ah ha!  I thought.  Wisdom!  This is a side benefit I was hoping he'd get from camp, in addition to leather-working).  "Do you think you made blunders and mistakes this week?" I asked.

"Hundreds of them," he answered.  "I just takes so many mistakes before you get a good system."

 "What would you do different next time?"  I asked.

"I'd zip my bag shut every time I opened it," he said.  "Even if I didn't want to.  Because I ended out with cockroaches in my bag."

That made me want to throw up, but he assured me that he'd killed them all.  And I assured myself that not one item from camp would come in the house until it had been dumped on the back patio, any vermin killed and then the item would go straight to the washing machine or trash.

That all being said, I thought a lot about what my son said about blunders and mistakes over the past week or so since he got home.  There is something both innocent and wise about knowing that life is just going to take a lot missteps on our part.  It's nothing awful.  It's nothing devastating to make a mistake.  Just learn from it.  Rework your system.  Try a new system and maybe that will be a mistake too, but you can make some little change to that and try yet again.

As adults, we tend to fall into two camps:  some of us take our mistakes really seriously and beat ourselves up for hours, days and weeks about them; others of us pretend we didn't make a mistake or blame somebody else for the mistake.  I'd venture to guess that even people who seem to act as if they didn't make a mistake are really quite hard on themselves and that's why they're working so hard not to accept responsibility.

So maybe we could all gain from this practical/Boy Scout approach.  Here we are everybody and we've got this life we're living  We are doing are best.  We really want everything to be good and right.  But it's not always going to be. We're going to mess up.  We're going to take the 'wrong' job, we're going to discipline our kids the 'wrong' way, we're going to make a bad investment, we're going to hurt someone's feelings, we're going to turn left when we should have turned right, we're going to judge someone unfairly.  We are going to all of those things and more...sometimes.

Not all our mistakes are as obvious as cockroaches in our clothes, but if we slow down, ease up and know blunders and mistakes are just part of life, I bet that makes it easier to try again - do some little thing differently - and see what happens.

hilarious vs. armageddon

So, my kids are in various weekly summer camps right now and I discovered (rather brilliantly) last week that I could carpool with other parents to summer camp.  (I am a slow learner sometimes).  Thanks in large part to the deft organization of another mom - this week I have an emailed schedule of each morning and afternoon pick up/drop off and who in our group of parents is to do it.  Monday was a designated pick up day for me.  At 3:15 in the afternoon I got in the long line of cars waiting for sweaty children.  Still waiting at 3:25 I got a text from one of the other moms in our group, who coincidentally, was ALSO in line for pick up.  Here's a little play of my interior monologue and the texts.

Katy gets text from Other Mom, which says:  "Don't worry if we're late, the line for pick up is long."

Katy thinks:   "Oh shit.  I'm a screw* up.  I probably read the email with the schedule wrong.  I'm probably not supposed to be here and now I messed the whole thing up."

Katy sends text :  "I'm in line too."

Other mom texts back:  "Hilarious.  I didn't read the schedule and was going by memory."

* Full disclosure - it was really the F word.

Here is why, even though I'm a therapist, I still have work to do on my Self.  There is an ocean of difference between your first thought, after making an error (or possible error) being - Oh shit. I'm a screw up and that first thought being, Hilarious.

For those of us prone to perfectionism (and hence, anxiety), the smallest glitches in the system can feel horrific.  When I am stressed or rushed or feeling highly responsible, something happens to my subconscious mind.  It gives me instantaneous emotional feedback that my 'error' will cause Armageddon and/or the lifelong misery of my children.  If I were doing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy on myself I'd say that my perfectionism causes me to Catastrophize.

Now, my logical brain knows this is not true.  But my body feels like it is true and I have to go through a process of talking myself down from the ledge.

One of the great things about being a therapist, is that you talk to so many people about their inner lives, that you realize whatever it is you yourself struggle with, millions of other people struggle with it too and this is why I like to write about my life.  If you are a perfectionist or a ORP (Overly Responsible Person), your first thought is not reality.

I talk all the time about compassion and self-compassion.  One piece of that is also being humble in a good way (not self-deprecating).  The truth is, it's okay to make mistakes, to cause other people inconvenience, to say something awkward, because we are human.  Because we all make mistakes.  Because our mistakes don't really add up to much in the scheme of things.  How we talk to ourselves about those mistakes does add up though.

Because of this smart mom I know, I now have something better to say to myself next time I make a mistake - something wise and true and humble:  Hilarious.

Postlude to Mother's Day: Not all mothers have children

As pretty good, fun, loud movies go, I can recommend The Avengers:  The Age of Ultron , which we saw over the weekend.  Here's a link to a funny review from The New Yorker and I'm really only linking it because it's funny http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/05/04/fighting-on.

In the movie, Black Widow (Scarlett Johannsen) shares a tender moment with Bruce Banner, in which she tells him she was sterilized as part of her assassin training graduation.  She says something like, "you still think you're the only one who's a monster?"  I am taking the quote somewhat out of context, but we certainly see the character grappling with what it means to not be able to be a mother. And implying that not having children is something at best 'other' and at worst, disgusting.

Notably, a number of women I know in real life recently have spoken about what it means to them to be childless in our culture.  One woman  said there is a way of feeling, 'anonymous' as a childless woman.  Another, who has chosen not to have children, continues to get family pressure - her parents make remarks like, "There's still time for you to give us a grandbaby."

I do have children.  I also have a mother.  I also have other women in my life who have acted as mother's to me at different times.  And I've thought a bit about what it really means to be a 'mother.'

There are mother archetypes we all draw on (I just Googled Jungian archetypes: mother), but I'll just define the most basic core of motherhood as I see it:  I feel that the best of mother is 'nourishing life.'  Not just literally feeding life, but creating and supporting an environment where life thrives.

You definitely don't have to have a biological children to do this.  Expanding what 'mothering' means is good for all women.  I see women I know 'mother' in many ways  - we cultivate imagination, we encourage dreams.  We nourish these qualities in ourselves and in others.  We are mothers when we create businesses or mentor employees.  We tend life when we garden, when we read to our nieces and nephews, when we get up at 5:30 a.m. and walk our beloved dogs.

I want to give a shout out to all the non-mother mothers.   I also want to point out that every woman has a story beyond what you see on the outside.  A woman without children does not mean that she hasn't literally or figuratively been a mother - I know women who have lost children, who have lost pregnancies, who have chosen to end pregnancies (no one I know has done this carelessly).  I know women who had parents who were ill and took care of them from a very young age and therefore decided not to have children.  I know women who just didn't want to have children.  I know women who very much wanted children, but their lives took turns that didn't allow that to happen.

As a recipient of lots of love on Mother's Day, I appreciate being honored.  I also honor all the women I know - their rich stories, their loving hearts, and their friendships that nourish all the variety of life.

assertiveness for kids and adults

I haven't written for awhile and am feeling frustrated with myself about it.  It's not that I haven't been inspired or touched.  It's not that I haven't been sad or angry or joyful.  It's not that I haven't been creative.

I've been living my life, which in the past month has included the death of a friend from high school. Reconnecting with an old friend from high school.  Trying to reignite my poetry mind and writing poetry about housework (of all things), giving a presentation that I started out very apprehensive about (it went great!), and being a wife, mother, friend and daughter.  A buyer of birthday presents and planner of birthday parties, a Target shopper and meal planner.  A therapist.  A media consumer.  And probably 50 other things I'm forgetting.

But I know that if I don't write a blog, it's going to hang over me.  So I'm going to start simple with what's right in front of me this week and here's the theme:  learning to be assertive and teaching our kids assertiveness.

Two different people in my life in the past two days have told me stories about four different children they know who are being bullied and/or harassed at school.  The kids range in age from first grade through high school.   For all these kids (the ones being bullied) - the question I am being asked, I assume because I am a therapist, is, 'how do we empower them? ' 'how do we help them find their voice?'

I love these questions, and it makes me wonder - what does it even mean to 'have a voice.'  I could probably wax on in a number of philosophical ways about this, but what I think might be more effective and simpler is to tell you what one of my best friends said.  And the reason I listen to this friend is because she comes from a paternal line of straightforwardness that might make some people's toes curl, but which has enabled her to be one of the best managers I've ever heard of in an industry known for it's eccentric (to say the least) characters (restaurant).

So what does said friend say about finding your voice?

"It's nothing personal, but don't touch me again."
"I've got nothing against you, but that's my seat.  Get out."

I could extrapolate this out to adult life to:

"It's nothing personal, but I can't talk now."
"No, I can't do that."
"That won't work for me."
"I'm leaving now.   I'm willing to talk when you calm down."
"No."

So, I'm the first one to say, there are nuances.  There are times when it's good to push our boundaries or to say, yes.  I'm not talking about these times.  I'm talking about the times when we know.  When our kids know.  When we are being taken advantage of physically, mentally or emotionally.

Finding your voice and being assertive is being okay with someone else's discomfort.  Why are we all so worried if someone else is uncomfortable?  I believe we mistake hurting someone's feelings with making them uncomfortable.  We also want to avoid our discomfort at their discomfort.  It's hard for us 'nice guys' to think - 'I caused that.'

But what if we stopped distracting ourselves by thinking that we are hurting their feelings?  What if we stopped taking responsibility for other people's discomfort?  They can deal with their discomfort just like we deal with our own discomfort.  Maybe they won't be uncomfortable, but they'll just leave us alone knowing we stand tall, look them in the eye and say, unflinchingly, NO.

Uncomfortable in the pew

One of my best friends recently asked if I would go to her church with her on her birthday.  I don't know if that seems weird to anyone, but it was truly an honor for me.  This friend grew up fairly non-religious and now attends a United Methodist church, which is the denomination I myself grew up in.
Unlike some people, I had an awesome growing up in church experience overall.  It was a place my parents were very involved in, it felt vibrant and energetic to me, I liked the music, I liked the big mural of Jesus with a lantern that hung in the foyer of the 'old chapel.'  I liked the smells of the place, the ministers, my friends.  I liked the songs and I liked what I learned about Jesus being a champion of the underdog, a friend of the reviled and outcast.  What I absorbed was more about Jesus' life than his death - that the meaning of his life was about lifting up the oppressed and doing unto others as you would have them do unto you.  The way I saw it, was that it didn't matter that much to me, anyway, about getting into heaven - being good was to make the world a better place.

So, I was interested to attend this relatively young, new, exciting congregation of United Methodists, especially considering that I've attended a Unitarian Universalist church for the past 11 years.  If you're not familar with Unitarian Universalism, it's a liberal denomination that emphasizes "deeds not creeds" - many inter-faith couples/families attend as well as people who are scientists, seekers, and skeptics of many varieties.

When my friend and I pulled up to her church that Sunday in March, we were warmly greeted and welcomed.  Coffee and treats were available right away and smiling, outgoing people were present as helpers of every variety.  Everyone was enthusiastically ready to worship.  And when we sat down to the service, I was feeling very uncomfortable.  Very.

It was kind of like the feeling you have when you're a teenager and your mom is with you in a public place and you feel weird about her.  Some of it had to do with smiling enthusiasm, which UUs are not known for, being that we are quite influenced by people from the Northeast.  And introverts.  Yet, the discomfort was also like a blanket that spread out over both the church I'm in now and the church I grew up in.  I found myself with a lot of "us" and "them" thinking:  "We don't do it this way."  Or, "Why do they do it that way?"  Or "They do this better than we do."  Or, "That wouldn't fly with us."

And after I hung out in the pew with my discomfort, it faded.  I probably really started enjoying myself during the sermon.  I heard familiar ideas and stories I'd grown up with from the Bible.  I heard philosophies that match my current spiritual experiences. For me, it became less about the 'us' and 'them' of the outer trappings - the rituals or music and smiling - and more about a kind of joy in realizing that there are communities all over the place that are helping people find meaning and hope in their lives and take action that makes the world a better place.  I didn't really need it to be the exact same as what I hear or experience every Sunday.  I didn't need it to be the same as what I grew up with.  I felt a sense of a large community.

If we sit down and listen to whoever we see or feel is 'other', we have a lot to gain.  So, I am challenging myself and you, if you'd like to take it on:  try attending a religious service that is not familiar to you in the next couple of months.  Even if you're not religious.   Maybe you'll like it, maybe you won't.  Then try another one.  The point is not to be converted or even to believe something, the point is to notice what gifts you find in being uncomfortable.  Yours may be different than mine.  If so, I'd love to hear those stories from you.

pure joy, chosen joy, and Mrs. Piggle Wiggle

I'm getting a presentation together for a conference in April, and I am not talking with myself nicely about it in my head.  I'm presenting with a friend and colleague who, "I'm sure is much more polished than I am."  I'm second guessing myself..."does my topic even fit with what the audience is expecting?!"  "Will I be able to make this cohesive by April?"  The ridiculous part about it is that the presentation deals with play, humor, and connecting with joy after loss.  And I'm taking a distinctly un-playful approach.

So I started thinking about people who convey a sense of play and joy...the first person who came to mind for me was Jimmy Fallon.  Here's a link to his top 10 most viral clips:  http://uproxx.com/tv/2014/02/10-viral-clips-late-night-jimmy-fallon/ .  He is so awesome because he conveys a genuine sense that he loves what he is doing.  He laughs with his guests, he laughs at himself, and he seems really spontaneous.

I know I'm going old school, but one of the other people who came to mind quickly was Mary Lou Retton.  I think most people who read my blog are old enough to remember her - the Olympic gymnast from the 1984.  If you go back and watch any clips of her competing, she is much more noticeably joyful compared to not only her competitors then, but to any gymnasts now.  People loved her because she conveyed an enthusiasm and joy in her immense talent.

And what about the Kid President - pure joy!

I think playfulness and joy must indicate some level of confidence.  And if not confidence in the very thing we are doing, confidence that even if we 'mess up', we'll figure out a way to get back on track.  I also think that play and joy indicate generosity - 'I have a gift, talent, or idea and I want to share it with you!'

I know people who are joyful coaches of their kids' sports teams, playful nurses, exuberant artists, and delighted skiers.

Where and how do you spend your time in ways that bring you joy?  When are you able to convey a sense of playfulness and spontaneity?  Can you find a way to do that thing more?

And what about the things we have to do?  Things that aren't intrinsically playful?  Housework is the first thing I think of.  Sometimes I feel like folding the laundry and the dishes will never end.  And indeed, they won't.  Unless I become super rich and can hire people to do that for me.  So given that I spend probably an hour a day doing dishes and folding laundry or other housework, is it possible for me to choose a joyful approach?  I have nothing to lose by trying.

For me, it's not only a conscious shift in mental attitude but it's bringing an element of play into the task - for me that means listening to a podcast that interests me or music that makes me happy.  This is the grown up version of my own Mrs. Piggle Wiggle.  If you haven't read these kids' books from the 1950s, you should.  Mrs. Piggle Wiggle lives in an upside down house, smells like cookies and was once married to a pirate and she plays with all the neighborhood kids and uses games, make believe and mischief to 'cure' them of all their childish ills like not taking a bath or not cleaning their rooms.

Really this post is a reminder to myself and maybe a nudge for you at the right time...if we find ourselves procrastinating or approaching a task with less than enthusiasm, take a few minute to suss out your obstacles.  For me and my presentation, it's this great unknown - where to start?  It's a little insecurity - will I be as good as I want to be?  But now that I'm aware of the obstacles, I also have the power to make a shift.  I have the choice not to take this (or any other task), quite so seriously.   That's why I need to tap into my inner Jimmy Fallon and Mrs. Piggle Wiggle and put CCR on the ipod.  If you take this approach too, I recommend a little Bad Moon Rising.

A Not So Simple Pep Talk

As I was making chocolate chip pancakes for my daughter Sunday morning (combining three out of 6 items this child eats - eggs, milk and chocolate), and listening to Weekend Edition on NPR, I heard a giggly kid's voice on the radio.  The Kid President was being interviewed.  As his brother points out - it's a self-appointed position.  Have you ever heard of this guy?  He's awesome!  Here's a link to his YouTube video - 20 Things We Should Say More Often:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5yCOSHeYn4

What I love about this kid is how he clear he is about what people can and should do. He says, “This is life people… you got air coming through your nose… you got a heart beat… it’s time to do something”   His message is about hopes and dreams and making life more awesome. 

Some days - like random Tuesdays or after the Seahawks lose the Super Bowl, or in the middle of breast cancer treatment or when we visit  mom and we notice that she's really getting forgetful, or when our child has a terrible temper tantrum before school - we need a pep talk.  The Kid President is great at pep talks.  I love the idea of a pep talk and there are so many people out there who are inspiring and innovative and are offering through YouTube or books or their websites or blogs, words of encouragement and wisdom that help us put one foot in front of the other on a hard day or they might help us do something courageous and bold on a day we are feeling good.

Yet, I know there are days when lots of us feel un-inspirable (I made that word up).  We feel cynical.  We roll our eyes at pep talks.  A hospice patient I once worked with was threatening suicide.  He was in his nineties and bedbound, but I had to assess him for suicidality.  I climbed right up in bed with him and shouted in his ear (he was hard of hearing), "Are you planning to kill yourself?!?"

This is what he said to me, "Are you one of those goddamned do-gooders?!?"

Here's what Parker Palmer says that I really like:

For me, the ability to hold life paradoxically became a life-saver. Among other things, it helped me integrate three devastating experiences of clinical depression, which were as dark for me as it must have been for Jonas inside the belly of that whale. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”, was the question that came time and again as my quest for light plunged me into darkness...understanding of paradox came to my rescue. Eventually I was able to see that the closer I move to the source of light, the deeper my shadow becomes. To be whole I have to be able to say I am both shadow and light.

From my own life experience and from working with people who are grieving the loss of someone they love - a simple pep talk often feels empty...when they hear things like, "he's gone to a better place" or "at least he's not suffering anymore", this feels empty and flat.  Yet, at the same time, grievers long for comfort.  Maybe that's how we all are - part of us wants to be comforted and part of us wants to wallow in our bitterness.  It truly is a paradox.

Maybe life is simpler when you're a kid, but maybe not.  The Kid President, for example, has osteogenesis imperfecta - his bones break easily and he's had more than 70 breaks in his life.  So, while his message is simple (you can make life awesome!), he knows about this other side that Parker Palmer talks about...that we all have light and shadow.

To paraphrase, Brene Brown, hope is a function of adversity.  We can't have hope unless and until we face hard times.  Hope is a learned cognitive response - it is not an emotion.  We can learn real hope that is beyond a simplistic platitude, but it takes great patience.  Patience to sit through the hard times and our own eye rolling.  Patience to earn our own hope:  there are hard times but we are strong enough and the good times do come again.

#day7 - what it was like to take the challenge

So this is my last day of the blogging challenge.  Here's what I learned:  Seth Godin is the devil.  No, I'm just kidding - I still love Seth Godin.  His blog and thoughts about business, creativity, and being relevant as a 'product' in the market are challenging.   Reading him is like having a boss that really demands that you be your best and not just get by.

I think I took this challenge, because, like many writers, I often tell myself, "you should write more."  And then, I don't do it.  For me, this stems from my desire to write something that means something to somebody else besides me.  I write because I like a good story.  I write because I want to try to tell a good story - whether it's with a poem or with the blog or with my graphic novel (which means comic book, for those who have asked me whether I'm writing a sexually graphic novel.  I am not.  But I think it's fun that people might even think this about me!)  If it's 'good' writing, that means something to me.  If I am able to take a metaphor or current event or idea and tie it all these seemingly disparate pieces together - like Broadcast News and Imagine Dragons - that feels fun to me.

It's just so hard to get started and if it's not 'good' or as good as I want it to me, I am frustrated.

So this is my first lesson from the #day1 challenge:  Stop trying to be so good and just write.

The second thing I learned is:  Know why I'm writing.  Am I writing for stats?  Am I writing to get a book deal?  Am I writing for 'likes on facebook?'  Sure.  But, also, no.

At the very core, I am writing because despite looking like a pretty regular midwest working mom, I've had a few extraordinary experiences.  And because of these experiences, I have something that I think is worthwhile to share - whether that's with one person or one million.

Just today, my dear friend sent me this link:  http://markmanson.net/not-giving-a-fuck
This is a hilarious piece of writing with a lot of truth in it.  This piece challenged me too - to be a writer or artist, in some way, you have to 'not give a fuck.'  What if my ideas are weird?  What if no one likes them?  I put myself out on a limb...maybe it doesn't seem that scary because I'm not saying anything that crazy, but what is scary to me is that I believe in it SO much.

I write this blog in a much gentler voice than Mark Manson has - and the reason I do this, is not because I am a goody-goody or that I disagree with him.  The reason I write this gently but also feel so passionately, is because I've seen a gorgeous world, but a world full of hurts and pain.  In my experience, the world of healing is a world where we start by being kinder to ourselves - gentler with ourselves.  Then, gentler, less judgmental, more big-hearted with those in our families and communities.

There's a place for challenge and there's a place for gentle and there's a place for gently challenging.  That's why I learned  this week that I might be blogging more often, but I'm not going to beat myself up if I don't.

Thank you for reading.

#day6 - where my demons hide

Having an 11 year old son, my life is full of an extraordinary number of poop, penis and passing gas 'jokes', if you can call them that.  Almost anything in the world can be made into such a joke (note:  watch Space Balls - get it, balls).  So there's a fairly popular song by Imagine Dragons called "Demons" and because we often listen to pop music in the car and because my son often chooses to let loose with passing gas in the car, we have begun to associate the lyrics, "that's where my demons hide" with my son passing gas.   It's a family song.  We are wholesome like that.

Probably because this song, tune and lyrics are so catchy, I've found myself thinking what does this really mean?  I can't believe it was the intent of the songwriters for the general public to abuse it's meaning in such a way as we do.

So today's #day6 entry is about what I consider one of my biggest demons - one thing I try to exorcise, but which seems to find new permutations in my life.

Have you ever seen the movie Broadcast News?  This is a great movie and Joan Cusack has a hilarious scene where she's trying to get news copy to the news anchor within minutes of going live.  The scene is called pushing.  Here's a link:  https://search.yahoo.com/search?fr=mcafee&type=B211US747D20140716&p=broadcast+news+scene+pushing

This is how I feel trying to get out the door in the morning.  And there are occasional days where I feel this way much of the day (particularly around Christmas).  My demon is overestimating my ability  accomplish tasks, and underestimating the time I will have to relax when said tasks are done.

I see this in my daughter who does all her homework for the week on Monday.  I was the exact same way - I liked to get my work done so I could play.  The problem in adult life is that the work is never done.  While you were getting some tasks done, more to do's were piling up.  I have all the 'accomplishment' but none of the relaxation and play that I had up until age 22.

So here is something I'm trying.  When I have my get out the door 'to do' list - whatever I think I can or should get done, I am mentally taking one thing off the list.  Sometimes, it's as banal as, I'm not going to scoop the cat poop.  When I am particularly "pushing" a la Broadcast News, I have to deliberately talk to myself and reassure myself :  Katy, if the cat poop doesn't get scooped today, everything will be okay.  Your house will not be condemned.  There will not be a terrible, permeating smell of cat pee."

I know in lots of ways, I'm being silly about this, but I also want to say that we all have 'demons' - usually more than one.  I think it fits in the category if it's something you consistently want to change and you know is inhibiting your quality of life, but you 'keep doing it.'

There's a story/myth that I think is Native American in origin about many animals trying to reach the Great Spirit on the Mountain.  Unfortunately, a gigantic demon stood in the path and the animals were afraid to pass.  But a small fawn approached the demon and said, "Please, I'd like to go see the Great Spirit."  The demon instantly shrunk to a very small size and the fawn and all the other animals could pass.

Gentleness, often is the best remedy for our demons.
p.s.  Mom,  I changed my profile pic to a pic from Broadcast News.  I'll change it back soon, I promise!

#day5 - it's just simple...friends

When I began to blog again after my year or so off, I began by thinking about this theme in my life of 'bouncing' - my mom used to compare me with Tigger, who often bounced himself into situations that he didn't like half so much as he thought he would.  And my dad has always compared me to the Unsinkable Molly Brown, who survived the sinking of the Titanic among other things.  I guess that's a reverse bounce, right?

And I thought about how I do feel really resilient.  I have a deep sense that I am not only okay, I'm good.  And if I'm not good, I know I'm going to get good soon.

Recently, I wrote about how to keep it simple and take care of yourself after really bad life events -one little moment at a time.  For me, it's helped to get in practice of checking in with my body...how does it feel?  Am I enjoying my food?  Am I getting enough sleep?  Do I need to stretch? Do I need to be warmer, cooler, more comfortable?

But after taking care of your body, the other big, big thing I learned about bouncing is that you must have friends, cultivate friendship, cherish your friends, and give them a wide berth (because let's face it - we're not always perfect friends ourselves).

In bad times, my friends have made me dinners, called or texted me every day over months of time, they've given me Xanax that wasn't prescribed to me (just once), they've listened to me cry, they've laughed at weird SNL clips I've sent them, they've taken me into their homes when it wasn't convenient.  So in some way, this blog post is to say THANK YOU, FRIENDS.  Also, that's a thanks for just the bad times - the good times are the best - giggling our heads off at live theater, when it's really not appropriate, marching in Fourth of July parades, sharing dinners and concerts, and a love of Andrew Lloyd Weber.  I could go on!

But, for the wider audience, I want to notice a couple things - first, I hear complaints from a variety of folks - 'this friend wasn't there for me as much as I wanted her to be', 'this friend only thinks about himself', this friend said she would do this or that and she didn't.'  It's true - sometimes we can choose crummy friends.  But I think more often than not we can remember that different friends are great at different things.  Some friends are great with words.  Some friends are great to laugh with, but can't be serious too easily.  Some friends will come to your defense.  Some friends always want to make peace.

My mom has been part of the same 'book club' for over 30 years (I use the term very loosely because I don't think they've read a book in 24 years).  These friends have helped each other through divorce, moving, and deaths.  We all need a book club like this.

So there you have it - my second big lesson in 'bouncing' - make friends, keep friends, be a friend.  Love your friends.  I know I do.  From the bottom of my heart.

#day4 - rebels, change-makers, big and small

This evening, for the first year in 11 that I have lived in my community, I took part in the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. events.  My family and some dear family friends walked from City Hall to a local school, we ate dinner in community with our neighbors and we took part in a 'service' in the school auditorium that included music, theater, awards, prayers.

Since it's my family, of course there had to be some 'sidebar' discussion and disagreement.  One theme, stated by one of the award-winning elementary school essayists was about starting change on a small scale.  This young lady wrote, "What I can do to stop racism is I can set an example, because I want to make sure my brother as he gets older that he learns that what is inside matters and what is outside does not.  And then, he will tell other people and it will become a chain."  WOW!  I totally agree.

Yet, my son (age 11), had to disagree and let me know during program.  No, he said.  Real change has to be big.  It has to be laws and it has to be whole groups and organizations doing things differently.  (Why haven't I been able to brainwash him more adequately?!?)

Interestingly, I listened to this being discussed on an On Being podcast recently: http://www.onbeing.org/program/parker-palmer-and-courtney-martin-the-inner-life-of-rebellion/7122

Two religious 'rebels' and social activists of two very different generations talked about the pitfalls of only thinking about change as meaningful if we 'change the world.'

Increasingly, I have to agree - this comes from my work and is illuminated for me again and again.  Small changes are the 'chain.'  In fact, there is nothing too small.  Every time you or I act or speak out of thoughtfulness, rather than reactivity - that's a win on a universal level.  Every time you or I choose kindness to ourselves and others over judgement - that is a cosmic triumph.

It also reminds me of It's A Wonderful Life, which we watched over the holidays.  One person's life effects so many - don't underestimate the difference you make.

So, though I'm tempted to 'correct' my son or try to convince him of my opinion, I'm also aware that each of us comes to our own wisdom in life and his answers might be different from mine.  My little piece of this chain is keeping my big mom mouth shut, and instead writing this blog.

#day3 - for my college friends to giggle: I am me, I am ok

Just thinking today about how many people I've worked with over the years who are embarrassed or even ashamed of who they used to be at some younger age.  "I was a bully" or "I was a mean girl."  "I was slutty."  Or "I wasn't good to my mom and now she's gone."  "I was drunk."  "I lied."  The list goes on and on.

I've been doing research into the relationship between humor, play and grief and it reminds me of something I found recently:

Isn't Calvin the best?  Sometimes we are all like this - not accepting the past, and trying to change anything and everything out of our sheer will for control, and not seeing the reality that we're in.  

I'd like to propose that if you have a version of yourself from your past (even if it was yesterday), that you're not proud of - try to use a lighter touch with yourself.  I remember when I moved to DC after college and started wearing a lot of black and feeling I was very sophisticated, I became embarrassed of the Midwestern version of myself who wore Christmas sweatshirts and had a Virginia Satir poster on my college dorm wall (my East coast self thought that was WAY too sentimental).  Then,  I got older and became embarrassed of the posturing young adult who had to wear black to prove she was cool.  Now, I like both those girls.  They were doing their best to figure out "who am I?"  

I hope that you can go easy on you.  You may just have been trying to figure out who you were too.

Since I have no pretense of being cool anymore.  For your pleasure and in the immortal words of Virginia Satir

I am Me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it – I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself.

 I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts.

I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know – but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me.

However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded.

 I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me.

 I am me, and I am Okay.

 From Self Esteem by Virginia Satir

Close Encounters, Alzheimer's and Art - #day2

One of my 'old hospice patients came to mind recently - she's probably been gone about 8 years now, but she lived remarkably well over 102 years and always seemed to have a smile on her face.  She'd been a wife and mother, but also painter in her younger years.  Her loving family often visited and they'd decorated her room with some of her own oils and watercolors.  The paintings were realistic portrayals of the natural world, and really very beautiful.  Though she had this upbeat demeanor, she appeared to remember nothing of her days or her life.  She appeared to live each moment and let it go in the next.  She had dementia.  As our hospice volunteers worked with her, they began bringing papers and watercolors for her and she began painting again.  Her paintings were totally different than those of her 'youth' - abstract, the colors and brushstrokes were bold.  I found them actually more beautiful than her realistic paintings and I know that creating them brought her some connection and satisfaction, which I could see from the look on her face rather than anything she was able to articulate.

As a poet and writer, I want to share my enthusiasm for the healing power of art of any kind.  I recently became aware of The Alzheimer's Poetry Project  http://www.alzpoetry.com/index.php  , which connects people with Alzheimer's to young writers, to art, and to some kind of meaning through poetry spoken aloud.   I also want to mention my friend and colleague, Anna Lehrke who offers a number of creative services to help organizations and individuals work in  holistic ways with the elderly and people with memory impairment.  She's at Care Beyond Words  http://www.carebeyondwords.com/CareBeyondWords.html .  Not to mention music therapists and art therapists who are lending their immense talents to helping all different kinds of people.  Or the way listening to a song on the radio can help us get in touch with feelings we didn't even know we had.  One of my friends from high school recently shared how much music helped her in dealing with the loss of her much loved cat.  Not to put myself out of business, but sometimes art can leave talk therapy in the dust in its ability to quickly get us to a place of greater understanding of ourselves, feeling our feelings, and then feeling connected with the whole history of humankind who have had similar experiences.

As I was thinking about how to sum this up, the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind came to my mind and the scene near the end when we humans connect with the aliens through tone, music and light.  It is really a tingly scene - the hope we have of connecting, communicating.  What art and music and poetry offer is a way to say, I am like you.  I come in peace.

#day1 - In grief, holding on to the little things

Ok, so I haven't been blogging, but I've started about four different posts since the last time I wrote.  They were long and cumbersome and only halfway inspired.  But in the meantime, I've become slightly obsessed with Seth Godin, who is an creative guru, marketing/pr/tech guy who has some philosophical and spiritual ideas I like too.

Here's his friend and colleague:

http://yourturnchallenge.strikingly.com/

Here's him:
http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2015/01/getting-unstuck-a-one-week-challenge.html

His colleague, Winnie, is challenging bloggers to blog everyday for a week to get in the practice of 'shipping', which must be a business term that we poets/psychotherapists are unfamiliar with - kind of like putting something on 'the parking lot' or some other thing I learned from management seminars I've been to.  I've blocked it, But I do remember there was a funny send up of this type of thing in an early 30 Rock episode.

Anyway - I'm taking the challenge:  Here's what's on my mind today - no frills, no long stories, just getting it going.

My nine year old daughter and I just finished reading The Diary of Anne Frank.  We lingered over that book for months and I couldn't figure out why, until I realized it had to do with grief.  I felt like I knew Anne Frank - she came alive to me through her diary.   I also came to realize that when the diary ended, I would have to grieve her.  I would also have to think about what a tragic end to her life and especially so since it was so close to the end of WWII.

It made me connect to all the grieving people I've worked with over the years - the one who kept her husband's voice on the answering machine, the one who didn't clean out the laundry bag of a teenage son who died, the one who kept his wife's dish of loose change on the counter for years.  Now we even have text messages we can save or facebook pages.  We long to keep our loved ones alive in some little way.

As a grief therapist, I think this is all ok.  People ask me "am I normal?"  Yes, I think so.  This is a story we are all a part of  - loving deeply.   And losing.  We want something tangible to keep and something that is true.

I just wanted to say that.  Let the voice, or the email or the dish with the quarters remind you also that you are connected with all the other people in the world who have lost someone they deeply love.  It is one of life's comforts to know you are not alone.