Change is inevitable

I used to think that I could be in the heads of my loved ones, and tried to help them avoid the pitfalls of life, or at lease find a way to soften the landing when they fell, but now I know that this is not possible. I have tried in my life to anticipate the needs of those I love, and to provide whatever was needed if I was able. But I have come to realize and understand now that everyone has to take their own blows, everyone has to suffer their own crises, and all we can do is stand by and let them know that we will be there with them all the way through, not to suffer in their place, but to lend an ear, a hand, a shoulder, or any other appropriate body part. If we can help them believe that we will not judge, that we will not withdraw in horror, that we will never be ashamed if we know that they have put forth the best effort of which they are capable, then we will have done our best. And since we ourselves are capable of making mistakes, just like everyone else, sometimes, we will let them down despite our best efforts. I have again been de-cluttering today, and have read and discarded many articles that I had saved for a day when I had the time to look at them. A lot of what I came across was about trust, and confidence, and learning to live on in the face of life-changing circumstances. I also had lunch with a wise friend who told me that as she reaches a milestone age, she is realizing that there are things that she is no longer willing to put up with, and told me some instances having to do with her work life and her social life. I hope that she knew that I was applauding her the whole time. Life changing circumstances are happening to us all the time: we reach a new age, our work goes well or not, we become ill, we make a decision to make a change, we loose a love one. We have to adjust to loss, to illness, to changing financial circumstances, and to happy times as well that change our life situations: an adult child finding the love of his life, a wedding, a job change or a move to a new home--all are causes to rejoice, and yet they are stressful and mean a drastic change in the way we see life. Learning that change is inevitable, and learning to flow with it can make all the difference.

Life isn't fair, but it is good

Some time back, Bob forwarded to me a list of life lessons that a columnist, Regina Brett, of the Cleveland Plain Dealer had written. It is a list of the lessons taught her by life. Some are better than others, or more pertinent to one time of life than another, but all are worth being reminded about. I thought I might use some of these life lessons as jumping off places to write about. I almost don’t know where to begin, because the wisdom contained in each short sentence is so important to take in and use. Right now, when I am beginning to be—or at least look like—who I use to be, it is useful to be reminded of the simple truths that make life easier and more worthwhile. We might as well start at the top, so here goes: #1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good. Do you find that to be true? I look around myself and see how my life has changed in the last six months and I want to cry out “it isn’t fair”, the phrase I remember hearing so often from the children I had dealings with over the years as a parent, a scout leader, and a teacher. That phrase used to make me grit my teeth. What is fair? The last few years of my life have been extraordinarily difficult and filled with loss. Some days I feel such sadness, but on balance, even if we would not choose precisely the same path, or make exactly the same choices, can you say that life is good? I can. I am sure that in the fairness department, I have ended up on the plus side. I am a great believer in appreciative living, and research has shown that gratitude is vital to well-being. I wish that I could say that I kept up my gratitude journal while I was in the midst of diagnosis and treatment for cancer, that I found the time and the heart to appreciate that something could be and was being done for me, to preserve my health and my life, and to give me years to look forward to. But I am only now coming out of the dark tunnel where I found myself. Making a decision to be positive, to think appreciatively, and to feel gratitude can take you into a new state of being. I am often curious about the people who walk in the park when I do, hurrying through their exercise regimen and never noticing the smell of the newly cut grass. With their headphones fit snugly into their ears, they cannot hear the songs of birds. I suppose that they can appreciate the music they listen to, or the newscast or commentary they are hearing, but I wonder about all they are missing. For me, the things that G-d, or Nature, or the Universe (take your pick) has provided are things for which I am unendingly grateful. And in addition, it is open to all to appreciate and to allow to enhance our lives if only we will take advantage of it. So while life may not be fair, it is good. It helps to remember that.

New experiences

The past two days have provided me with two wonderful experiences that I have enjoyed thoroughly, and have made me thoughtful as well. On Sunday, my daughter invited some of her friends to come and meet us for the first time. Since she lives in the city and we live further away, we do not get the opportunity to meet her friends as readily as we once did. The friends came, bringing good cheer and fun with them, and it was a pleasure to learn what they were doing and thinking. We are less exposed to the opinions of younger people and it is fascinating to see and understand how they think. It is also somewhat disconcerting to see how different things are today than they were when we were their ages. Our generation married younger, we were more on our own, more independent, more grown up. This generation, gen X and Y are extending their youth far longer than we did, and perhaps that makes sense if they are going to live to more advanced ages. The group that I met were interesting, actually fascinating, and interested in their world and creating a better place. Were we more self absorbed, interested in getting ahead, making money rather than making a mark? Comparisons are fruitless, I have decided, since the times were so different then. Each generation has to play the hand they are dealt, and that is just what this one is doing, and what we did as well. To our delightful guests, I thank you for a most pleasurable day. My other new experience came today, when I attended my first ever Qigong class. I had no idea what to expect, and was pleasantly surprised to find that there was a knowledgeable leader, sweet of face and kind of disposition. The guided imagery brought me back to my childhood, a carefree and happy time, and helped me to feel surrounded by love. The tears that came unbidden were necessary parts of the healing process, I think. I will now do some research on the process to find out more about it. I have finally come to the place in the process of my recovery where I feel a need to take better care of myself, and this was the way I began. It was a good beginning.

I'm back

I’m back—7.15.14 I am learning what it is like to have ADD! Lately, my mind darts around, landing on one thing and then another, knowing that I need to catch up on all the things that have gone by the wayside since the end of January, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and all hell broke loose. The first thing I want to express is how grateful I am to the people who have helped me through the fear and terror of diagnosis, surgery, complications, and finally encouraging me when I sought second opinions and decided to make drastic changes in my care. My family, both immediate and extended, provided me with the bedrock of love and support on which I was totally dependent. They made me feel that I was never alone in decision making, in difficult choices, and even in finding something funny in all the bad stuff to laugh about. My dear friends remained close and caring, helping me to know that I was loved and never forgotten. My children helped me to know that there was a future to aspire to, to see them settled and happy and successful, and my husband helped me with his understanding of the things that were not necessarily rational, but important to me nevertheless, and was often able to put aside his own needs in order to meet mine. For now he has put aside his dreams of traveling, because I need to feel safe and secure here at home. I need the loved and familiar around me, and I need to slowly find the parts of my “old” self that are to be found, and to learn to let go of the parts that cannot be regained. My community, which honored me with their Los Merecidos (meaning “the deserving ones) Award, helped me to remember that I am part of something much greater than just myself, and that the tradition of service that was handed down to me from my parents and grandparents makes me part of a chain that deserves to be extended, so knowing that there is still work ahead to be done, I can concentrate on others rather than just myself. And to the medical community that has cared for me, done their best to provide good and appropriate care, I am also grateful. So to all the people in my life who have helped me back to life, back to laughter, back to thinking of others, back to the mundane things in all are lives that are so precious only when the threat of loss is imminent, I offer you the gratefulness of a very full heart. I hope that I will not leave you for a long time, and that I will become the productive member of society that I have always meant to be.

Lessons

The ‘dreaded day’ is here. My hair is coming out and I will join the leagues of other bald patients. No tears, only fascination, and saving the clumps to put outside for the birds to use in building their nests. The lovely silver strands are soft and will be a good place to rear this seasons fledglings. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes, that “every ending is a new beginning”. I am somewhat prepared: I have hats, scarves, even a wig, but I suppose that this is not something that we women are ever really prepared for. So the ending of my head of hair will be the place where our little neighbor hummingbirds will lay their eggs and raise their young and have their beginnings. And we will have the pleasure of watching the tiny eggs until they hatch, and we will see the long skinny beaks stretch upward to be fed until the day that they leave the nest and we will not see them again. And my hair will come back. Perhaps not the same as it is now, but it will eventually come back. And I will have my own new beginning. And with each change that takes place in my body, and in my household, and in my psyche because of the change in my cellular structure, I learn new things. There is a whole world of things that I have only known from afar, like from magazine articles, that I am learning about from much closer up. In the arrogance of good health, we think our passing familiarity with the vocabulary and the appearances of illness is all there is to know, but we are so wrong. Soon the vocabulary becomes personal, and the appearance becomes our own, and the feelings and the fears and the triumphs also become personal. No matter that one’s family, if one is as lucky as I am, is pulling for us and encouraging us, and helping us over every hurdle, the battle to stay real, to stay the person we have always perceived ourselves to be is an uphill daily battle. I ask myself daily, who is that woman in the mirror with the sunken chest, who is this person with the thinning old lady hair; who, indeed is this person who watches so much television because I am too tired to read and know that if I give in to a nap, I will pay the price in the small hours of the morning with wakefulness when everyone else sleeps. So every day I have to reintroduce myself to me, because every day there is something new to be learned from this path down which I am traveling. Some days I can taste my food, and some days not. Some days I am so tired for no apparent reason, and I will nap in the morning, and some days I seem to have enough energy to accomplish almost as much as I did before, until the moment that I seem to be dropping from exhaustion. For the days that I fought each new feeling, each new development, I tired myself out without anything to show for it. Now I look at each new thing and think, ‘now that’s interesting, I haven’t noticed that before.’ I guess what I am trying to say here, that if I can take life at its most frightening, and see it as something new to be learned, something interesting to be noticed, it takes away some of the sting. And when I see the love and support that is all around me from kind friends, loving family, even strangers that we encounter along the way who tenderly and hesitantly ask, ‘would it be all right if I pray for you?’ I know that I have come to visit in a place of great compassion and sensitivity, and that there are so many lessons to be learned here, and that no matter how hard it may be, I will labor to carry them back with me to the land of good health, and then offer them to those in the midst of their struggle for health. Do not shy away from the difficult. There are many valuable lessons to be learned there.

To My Mom

It was something that I already knew--that if you are open to it, there are so many things to be learned every day--but now that time seems to be so concentrated, the learning is more important, more poignant more essential to pass on so that others may benefit as well. A lesson that I learned from my mother, of blessed memory, and that was brought home again to me yesterday, is how much better off we are to let go of the small hurts, the petty angers, the negatives of all kinds and move ahead with life and with love. Who among us has not suffered a bully, a mean girl, a disappointing relationship? Of course all of us have. If you are human and have relationships with other humans, you are bound to be disappointed by some of them. But it is not what ‘they’ do that is important, but rather what I do with it. Mom was one for moving on. If there was a problem, talk it out, wrangle it down, say sorry, or curse, or whatever, but in the end, let it go, because the reiterating, the re-chewing, the endless review of all the slights, the slings and arrows, if held too closely, poison us in the end. My mom was a person who made and kept friends easily. Today she is remembered fondly by those who knew her. She had an open heart and while by no means an angel, she was a pretty happy woman. She had a great laugh, which she wasn’t afraid to use, and she loved to gossip, but never in a mean way. But the best thing about Mom was that she was always open to amends. And she passed that on to my brother and to me, and we learned that you were not giving up your soul if you had to say “I’m sorry” but rather the opposite. You were recovering your soul and moving on. Sure there are some things that no amends on earth can make right, so you pack up your old kit bag and move on. But what my mom taught us that while you are packing, if you are actually leaving, be sure to leave the problem behind on the side of the road. If you take it along, you might as well not leave at all. I also learned that there was no problem so great that there did not exist a remedy. Especially if the relationship was worth keeping. And often the remedy was a simple “sorry, I made a mistake”, or a declaration that something that happened was hurtful, so that the other person could offer the same “sorry, I made a mistake”. Neither holding on to the hurt, nor to the righteous justification that ‘after all I was right’ does anything to bring or to keep loving people together. While my Mom was very far from a pacifist, as I reflect on the things I learned from her, I am astounded at her wisdom. She was a great role model in so many ways. She was not a dreamer, and I think that the way she thought, the way she organized, her efficiency, were great things to watch and learn, although I was not so admiring when I was the child in her home, wanting and needing to dream. There was very little wasted motion in my mom’s life. Her household ran like a top. It was ready to receive guests at a moment’s notice--no last minute pick-up needed. She scheduled fun and respite into her life and maintained the social closeness with others that social scientists today are just learning are so essential to good health. She had her weekly mah jongg group every Tuesday for forty or more years (something we used to laugh about as kids), and encouraged my dad to have his weekly pinochle game. Saturday nights meant gathering for a light meal, or coffee and cake in the home of one of their regular group—no restaurants involved. And just like fun was ever present, so was the imperative that we never forget those less fortunate. When the old itinerant white bearded Rabbi came to our house to collect the dime banks for Israel that he had left the month before, my mother always invited him in, gave him coffee and a fresh biscocho, and let him rest a while on his rounds. The lives of the depression generation was far from easy, but they were also the generation of the post war boom, and it is easy to see that life in their circle could be filled with smiles and laughter, friendship, family, picnics, and innocent good times. My mother, fun loving, could never be described as carefree, because life was hard. But she was the embodiment of any positivity that part of me today. She taught us the lessons that I so value today, always practical, always with an eye toward healing, toward keeping the family together, toward keeping any small rift from becoming an impassible gorge. So today, Mom, the day we remember you each year with Kaddish, I will not be in synagogue because I cannot, but your granddaughters will be there, carrying on the tradition of Remembrance, and honoring your memory. I will be home, thinking of you, and reflecting on how lucky has been my life, not in any small way, because you were my mother and took the time and heart to teach me the value of letting go.

Wherever You Go...

I had a plan, a blueprint, a route, a map, a trajectory that was supposed to take me into old age. I was comfortable with that plan. A plan doesn’t usually have imbedded in it surprises or shocks that knock the traveler off course. Of course there are sometimes roadblocks, but those can be gotten around, rerouted, and the destination essentially remains the same, with perhaps a bit more time added on for the detour. You will arrive at your destination, essentially the same, only a bit later. Say you are driving from New York to California in April. Weather can be unpredictable, and while you are sometimes driving in a southerly direction, the overall picture is that you are going West. Snowed in in Amarillo Texas? Watch the farm report on TV and add two days to the trip. Those two extra days that you planned to relax in Las Vegas? Well you’d rather just keep moving and start your new chapter. But whatever happened on the trip was simply a detour, a diversion, a sidetrack and getting back to the plan was always in the program. Until now. There I was, happily traveling the planned route when I fell into a sinkhole. Now the whole character of the trip has changed. I am no longer free to change destinations. I am on a whole new road with plenty of road signs, plenty of traffic cops, but nothing looks familiar. [I have got to get out of this traffic metaphor!] The whole point of it was to say that just like Dr. Suess so aptly said: Wherever you go, there you are. I did not ‘come’ here, but I am here nevertheless. And now I have to see the lay of the land. The last month that I have spent in denial, not that I have cancer, but of what I must do to accommodate this new state of health, has not been wasted. I got sick, and realizing that I cannot afford to be cavalier about where I go and what I do, how I deal with the people I see, was an expensive and rather unpleasant lesson. But it is pretty ordinary, no? We go to a new place, not necessarily being familiar with the local customs or the shortcuts, blunder around for a while, make some mistakes, pay for them, and then finally settle into the local ways. I sat back as others spoke of their journeys with cancer, and thought complacently ‘well, that’s not going to happen to me’ but I learned that I have no real say in that and no immunity. What will happen will, and I will have to get used to the idea that I will have to deal with it. I am learning to negotiate a new country, one in which I have some control, but not nearly as much as I thought I did. I am learning that each new day may have a new challenge, but it may also reveal a new part of my own, or someone else’s character. I am learning to let go of the things that I knew for sure, like how certain things were supposed to be done, and to embrace the things that others, out of a sense of good will and lovingkindness, are willing to do for me. I am learning that I am not the only one who can do certain things, and that there are things that I need to teach others to do so that they can do them too and carry on without me. I am learning to relax when I have no other choice, and I am learning that I am not an addict if I take a pill now and then for its prescribed purpose. I guess I am learning how to be a more grateful human being, even though I was pretty grateful before. Appreciative Living is an art that we are called on to perfect every day. When our pins are knocked out from under us, it’s hard to regain our balance. It has taken me a couple of months. I expect that each day will be its own test. But here in this new country, I will be watching for the vista points, and the parks, and hoping that I don’t have to pull from too far down to get to the appreciation.

Lessons on Trajectory

Over the past couple of months, I have learned many humbling lessons. The first is that whatever life trajectory you think you are on, you can be knocked off in a flash, and laid lower that you imagined possible. I recall when we moved to southern CA from the Bay area, a bit over twenty years ago, we had experienced the Loma Prieta earthquake there, the confusion, the loss of services for a while, the fear, and the aftermath. I vowed then never to be caught unprepared. I was co-chair of the earthquake preparedness committee for our local school, and we did the research, bought the equipment, found the storage space so that everything would be accessible, and we felt prepared. We had drills, teacher meetings, teams, and the whole nine yards. So when we left the Bay Area, I collected all of my necessary earthquake supplies for my new home in TO. Then the Northridge quake struck, and I remember crying out loud, “but I’m not ready yet”. Fortunately unhurt, I got my butt in gear and finished my preparations, got all of the necessary materials together, and was again (kind of) prepared. The question is: are we ever really prepared for what life throws at us? You go along as if every day will be like the last, and then a loved one becomes ill, or there is an unexpected death, or even worse, an expected death, one that you thought you were prepared to handle, one that might even be a mercy, and again, in your head, you say “but I’m not ready yet”. In your daily routine, there is room for the odd head cold, a sprained ankle, but no one is ever ready for a tragic auto accident, or a Boston Marathon bomber, curse him forever. My trajectory was set. I was a high energy, positive person, getting many many things done each day, enjoying life, smiling at every stranger, and fitting in the intermittent appointments that we all deal with: teeth cleaning, podiatrist, dermatologist, yearly mammogram, and then going on about our business as if these screenings were all meaningless tests to just get out of the way. This year, I had to postpone my annual mammogram, which I usually have in December, because I was sick and took the first available appointment in January. Within three days, my personal trajectory was a matter of memory, and I was traveling a new road. A suspicious lymph node had been found. New tests were required, not some time in the future, but NOW. The first surgery told the tale of breast cancer. Decisions to be made, how extensive a surgery, who to see, what to do. My brother, a doctor who had succumbed to cancer the year before was the person I always depended on to help me make decisions. I felt lost, not to mention angry. My second surgery was scheduled, performed, an oncologist joined the team, and I was on a road I never imagined. My life of perfectionism was going to have to take a back seat to this new trajectory. I was going to have to leave the “doing” to others, and not only that, how ever they managed to do whatever it was that needed doing, would just have to be sufficient. Many things have changed for me over the last couple of months. My husband has taken over my care and the running of the house. He has been an angel. I have learned to sit when others are doing stuff. I have also learned that if something gets done, not necessarily the way I would do it, but done all the same, that is just fine. I have learned that the warnings I have received from doctors and other experienced patients do not mean “everyone but me”, that I too must heed the signals, or suffer the consequences. I am sure that there will be other humbling lessons ahead, but I hope that I will take to them with greater ease that I have in the past. I will be telling you what I learn as I go along.

Today on the menu

When I woke up this morning, my first thought was “you go along thinking…….” And then when I decided that this would be the beginning of my blog today, I thought I would depersonalize it and say instead “one goes along thinking….” But as the hours since I woke up have passed, I realized that I have little idea what YOU go along thinking, and as for what ONE goes along thinking, this is only conjecture, so instead I decided that I would say “I have always gone along thinking that I essentially know who I am,” and as I have ‘matured’ (i.e. gotten older), I have known myself better and better, so that what I could imagine that what I was thinking was true. Today, I had a revelation, that who I thought I was, how I happened to form thoughts, and how I looked at and negotiated the world was definitely not set in my character and unlikely to be affected by outside forces. I am learning every day that outside forces are making me doubt all the things that I thought I knew about myself. Previously, when I had a new experience, whether positive or negative, I would study and learn about it, I would find a book about it and be at peace with the changes, because I would ostensibly ‘understand’ them. Also in time gone by, I was possessed of a generally happy mood, always a smile, and plenty of energy to tackle my list of things to do. My highly organized personality, and adherence to my mother’s teaching made me prepared for almost any eventuality. I had extra stashes of tissues, t.p, canned goods, paper goods, even little amusements for visiting children, not to mention organized earthquake supplies and water. What I did not have was a way to deal with the runaway train of a disturbing and frightening diagnosis of breast cancer. Suddenly I was in the midst of a maelstrom that just did not end. No planning, no thinking ahead, no advance preparation made me ready to hear that I was now going to begin a new chapter for which I had no plans or preparations. There was no time to read or reflect before I boarded that train that was whisking me so fast into unknown territory, with little guidance and less experience. The train entered many dark tunnels that I was sure would never end, and then they did, and I had the light of friends who wished me well, the love and caring of my husband, who had previously known mostly how to be the patient, and my daughters, who, in the midst of creating their own places in the world, are also loving and caring and certainly almost as afraid as I am. What I was not prepared for was the ups and downs of mood, depending on how I had slept, and what I was able to eat, and how the healing was progressing. Bumps in the road throw me into abject depression, something I have not suffered from in the past, until I can get some rest or relief from pain. The days that I think that I simply cannot face what is ahead leave me limp and a stranger to myself. I always thought I could face with courage what came my way. I don’t feel courageous, I feel uncertain and afraid at times, and I have found myself looking to rely on outside support, something I have seldom sought in the past. I have realized something that perhaps I should have known, or perhaps nobody knows until they have to, that there is no yesterday, and no tomorrow, there is only today and making the best we can of it. Yesterday, after an unanticipated medical procedure, I just wanted to be taken care of by my mom, who has been gone for eight years. She would, in my imagination, have known just what to do, but certainly no more than my loving and caring Bob, who is feeling his way around in the dark trying to help my in any way he can. When I propose a new way for me to be able to do Passover so that I can accomplish it, he is on board. When I ask him to go shopping, or to help me, he is on the spot, and he has become a pro at keeping the kitchen as straightened up as possible. So here is what I know for sure, that appreciating what we have today—a caring spouse, a good night’s sleep, a knowledgeable doctor—is something I can get my mind around, even if it takes me a day or two to realize it. Yesterday is gone, for good or ill--let it go. Tomorrow is at best iffy, with the unknown looming, and we may get there or not. But today is golden. Today is what there is. Today can be what I make of it. Whether raining or sunny, whether hot or cold, if I put my mind to looking for it, I will find the good in today, because, it’s all that’s on the menu. So, Worry about that other stuff tomorrow, Scarlett.

Regaining Control

It was never my intention to take a month off from writing my blog. But I have been caught up in a whirlwind of diagnosis and its aftermath. And while that in itself is disorienting and frightening, I realized this morning that the worst part of it is the loss of control that comes with it. It seems to me that for the last month I have been at the ‘mercy’ of doctor appointments, pain and fear. But yesterday I got a wake-up call from an unexpected source and I am very grateful. The past couple of weeks have been full of bad news and worse news, the prospect of what is ahead, and the feeling that I am being battered about like a straw in the wind. I was not quite sure what I was-- and was not--supposed to do. I know that there is all kinds of support out there, but I was not reaching them and they were not reaching me. Worst case scenarios were all I could see, and I was mourning all the things that I was thinking I would be losing. The pain from my extensive surgery was completely out of my control, because I never knew whether it would be there on any given day, and whether it would be bearable. In addition, each time I dress and undress, the scars are a reminder of how tenuous is our hold on life and health as we have known it. Up until the moment that I heard the doctor say “the biopsy was positive, you have breast cancer” I thought of myself as a healthy energetic person, in control of my life and my destiny. From that moment on, life began to spin out of control, and I was forced to march to a wholly different drummer. While pain and fear are equally unpleasant in the health sweepstakes, I have come to understand that a loss of control is the most frightening thing that has happened to me so far. When the doctor said “make an appointment today with the surgeon, or get this test or that one sooner than later, and schedule this or that now, despite whatever other plans you may have thought you had, you know that you are losing, or have lost control. When one day you wake up in pain, with no explanation as to why that is-- no overdoing it in the garden, or at the gym—and are not sure of when it will stop or how to stop it, you know that control is out the window and for me at least, a mild panic began to set in. Pain pills give me nausea and headaches, so it’s not a good tradeoff. Pain drains me of energy, so I was doing a lot of sleeping, also the healing process takes lots of energy, I am told, and what with not being able to eat either, energy was at a low ebb. Another source of “okay, where do I go from here?” I had not connected with any of the many support situations that are available, so lots of empty time and space was hanging on me. Deciding I had had enough of sitting around, I went to the bra shop. Linda had so much good information for me, that I was weak with relief. I think that this was the beginning of getting some control back in my life. As the day wore on and I made phone calls and connected with people, I felt stronger and more like ME. While I was aware of needing support, I didn’t really realize that my family needed it too. So tomorrow we will all go off to an orientation at the Cancer Support Community and get some of our needs met. Another step on the road back to control. Then the mail came, and I was surprised to receive a booklet from a friend of my sister-in-law. She explained that this had helped her on her road to recovery, and was sharing it with me, and hoped that I too would pass it on when the time was right. Long story short, the author feels that she has healed herself and others with a method of breathing and visualization that she has used over many years. She claims that it can cure users from stress and pain. So I decided to try it. Trying her method, I realized it was the equivalent of meditation, which I have practiced for many years. So when a sharp pain struck, I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and found some relief concentrating on my breath. She concentrated on a “great white light, which had come from a rainbow”, but I realized it was the interruption of the panic that ensues when pain strikes with no understanding of how long or how bad it will be that takes the focus off the pain and onto the breath. It was the road to the recovery of control. I have a book given me by a gentle Buddhist friend—“When the student is ready the teacher will appear”—and so often in life, that phrase proves itself to me. When I am ready for a new thought, or new understanding, something comes to me in some form to reinforce what I really need to know. I needed to understand that abandoning myself to the fear of pain was not healthy. While my breathing exercise does not always take the pain away, it gives me a response to it other than panic, and erasing the panic gives me a sense of control, a sense that I am back in the game. The teacher was unexpected, but the lesson was all important. I, the student, who had taken a dim view of concentrating on the “great white light” realized that we all have our own version of the great white light, and it was a reminder to use the resources that I have developed over a lifetime to help me when I needed help most. So welcome back, control. And thank you Marsha for thinking of me and passing on something that this student was ready to hear.

Feeling Lucky? Well,You should

I have been thinking over the past week how much we take for granted, and how much the poorer we are for that. I suppose it is a human failing, and since we are human, we must accept imperfection. But wouldn’t it be nice if we could appreciate more, and I’m not talking about the extraordinary things, but the ordinary everyday things? Last week’s rain seemed to have brought with it an allergy bomb. Everyone I know who suffers from seasonal allergies surely thought they had a cold last week. I know I did, and it made me quite miserable. Since I was also recovering from a surgery I had had, it was twice as miserable to have a drippy nose and cough. But with the exception of the cough, it’s all behind me now. Our everyday good health is something we surely take for granted. We awaken, even if we have had a poor night, and go about our business. For some it means getting off to work, or getting the kids off to school, or pulling ourselves into our day. Easier said than done for some who are struggling with illnesses or mental or emotional challenges. Wouldn’t it be nice to take note of how you are able to negotiate that stubborn toaster, or how easy the commute to work was today, or how your stubbornly picky eater ate the breakfast without a single complaint? No need to thank God or your stars or the Universe, but just to take note. It will lighten your step. I am also guilty of taking for granted the plenty that I experience every day, although I work hard to make that a fact. I was thinking of running out of the tissues in my box in the middle of the day, and I had but to ask Bob to get me another from under the sink where I store extras to be supplied with a fresh box. How lucky am I that I can afford to keep extra boxes of tissues on hand? Same goes for bread and butter and milk. If we have run out of the spare half gallon, then someone can zip down to the store and get another without having to retrieve change from the couch cushions. Not everyone is that lucky. I realized today that although I have been ill, all of my needs were met, I was never hungry or cold, I had the luxury of clean clothes and sheets, medical care available—what more could one need? What we need is to notice our amazing luck to have been born in this time and this place, to these parents, who taught us and nurtured us and educated us and loved us. So today, while people are still asking “How are you feeling?”, I can say truthfully, that I am fine and for that I am grateful. So will I not take things for granted in future? Of course I will because after all, I am human. But will I continue to take that five minutes before sleep claims me at night to realize a couple of things I have to be grateful for? Nothing formal, nothing written, yes, I will do that too. Today I learned something so significant from just the preface of a book loaned to me for my convalescence, that I can’t wait to get to the meat of it. And that is that every act has two parts. The giving and the receiving, the speaking and the hearing, the teaching and the learning, and so on. When we are on the giving or speaking or teaching side, it is incumbent upon us to make sure that the other side is possible as well. If what I teach falls on deaf ears, then what have I offered. Today I am grateful for that. And I will not take for granted that what I say has been heard or understood, that what I have taught has been learned. And this goes for the "luck" we experience in our lives. It happens and if we receive it with awareness and notice, it brings more joy, a better outlook, the ability to think of ourselves as "Lucky", which make our whole life seem better. I think of myself as Lucky, I hope you will too.

What is Life?

My family sometimes loses patience with my cutting out of interesting articles for everyone to read, cute cartoons to save, and all kinds of stuff that I think will make us better people, make our household run better, help us to work more efficiently, and on and on and you get my drift. Part of the reason I cut them out is that I want to discard the magazine, but I don’t want to lose the ideas, so I file them, but in the short term, they can certainly add to the problem of clutter. This morning I ran across a random piece of paper on which I had written a quote that I thought at the time was brilliant, but today, I am not feeling it quite so much. It says: “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” In my kitchen, I have had a long vertical cartoon on my frig, that shows a baby creeping toward the end of a tall diving board, and then shows a progression of him going off the board as a toddler, then falling as a kid, then a bored adolescent, then a joyous young adult, and a businessman in suit and tie, then a possible retiree, and finally an oldster, letting go of his cane and grabbing his knees for that final cannonball. At the bottom is a small pool, with a great splash of water and at the edge is a tombstone. The quote is “LIFE: It’s not the size of the splash, but the joy you find along the way.” Before I looked at them together, I thought they said the same thing, but now I see I was wrong. If we measure our life, or our success, or our happiness only by the moments that take our breath away, we might be waiting a long time in between to consider it well lived. But if, along the way, we see the joy in every day, in the small things that bring comfort, or that lighten someone else’s day, or that are just a joy in the doing, then life is full indeed, and there is no waiting involved. If you awaken to the smell of fresh coffee being brewed, and it is your beverage of choice, then that aroma can bring so many things to you, the ‘joy along the way’, of knowing that someone wants to please you, or even if you set up a timer to put on the coffee the night before, the pleasure of having a cup of fresh brew, hot and ready when you are, a small pleasure that you can start your day with. This morning, I got up early, and changed the linens on my bed. I love the feeling of fresh linens, so that the next time I lay down in my own bed, ‘the joy along the way’ will involve the self-care that I took the time for, the ability I had in my own strength to accomplish that task, and the clean fresh smell that will greet me when I fall into the bed next. The moments that have taken my breath away are indeed those high point memories that we so love to review and to talk about. They are the stuff of day dreams. I remember seeing the murals of Diego Rivera in person in Mexico City. It did indeed take my breath away. I remember strolling through the Alhambra in Granada, Spain, and wondering of my forbears were ever there, and what did they think of what they saw. And I remember standing outside the British Museum, having seen the Elgin Marbles, and being quite amazed at how small they actually are. All of these were breathtaking events in my life, and it isn’t that I don’t want or expect to have more of them. I do and I will, I hope. But these memories are no match for the joy and the laughter that I experienced yesterday when my niece came with her lovely boyfriend to visit, and we looked at old photos of her Mom and Dad, both of blessed memory, and told stories and made dinner together, and I finally swept them out the door because I was tired. Huge breathtaking memories are no match for the family movies we watched, of a times when my parents were younger than I am today, smiling and laughing, and my girls as youngsters, and so many of our loved ones who have passed on by now were young and vibrant and full of life. They were so real, and we saw the joy again in their faces, and heard the loved voices that soothed us when we were ill, and scolded us when we needed it. Life is a series of twists and turns, and I am coming to realize that so much of it is just not of our own making or intention. We go along thinking that we have some control, and then the bubble bursts and we see that life, or depending on how religious you are, G-d, or the Universe has a different plan for you. I think that it is the grace with which you navigate that river of twists and turns that makes up a life. It is the joy in seeing the lovely things along the banks of that river, rather than worrying over much about the destination or whether there is going to be a thrill ride involved, and the quiet inlet that you arrive at, not finally, even though you make think it final, that is the story of a good life well lived. Happy Anniversary, Robert.

You are a hero--act like one.

Have you ever felt that your life was a novel? And there you are, the hero or heroine of it, but you are not feeling much like a hero or heroine. Because what does a hero do? He (or she) saves the day, right? They behave as if no danger is too much for them to take care of, no villain too evil for them to vanquish. And they do it as if it is the stuff of every day. To the observer, it does not seem as if they are breathing hard, or as if their heart is beating faster, or as if they are experiencing fear. For the hero (or heroine), fear is just not part of the program. But for us regular folks, fear is a part of our everyday existence. Well, as I grow older and wiser, I realize that I have but to look around myself at any gathering of people, and all I see are heroes. And why do I feel this way? Because I am coming to realize that we are all the heroes of our own novel. There are so many old sayings that recognize that life is not really that “bowl of cherries” from that old, old song. “Into each life, a little rain must fall”. For some, it seems like a drizzle, and for others, a downpour, intermittent showers or even a veritable flood. But we all get wet. Some of us put on a raincoat and continue on our way, and some take shelter in a doorway, but in the end we all have to deal with it, and that dealing is what makes us all heroes. Sure, some deal better than others, some have support, some resort to things that in the short term make the problem worse, but we all have to deal. So today, I am having intermittent showers. Too bad I can’t transfer that to the outside where the weather is so dry that the wild creatures in my yard are coming to the pool to drink. But I am dealing with it, if not like Superman or Wonder Woman, I am being the heroine of my own life. I am meeting the lumps and bumps of life with a positive, appreciative attitude and helping those around me to see the sunnier side to whatever we have to deal with. I am fortunate to have great friends and the best family who are supportive whenever I need them. What could be better than that? Of course the answer that leaps to the lips is “not to have any lumps or bumps”, but that is not only unrealistic in this imperfect world of ours, it is also uninteresting, and it doesn’t help us to grow. If you just sailed along, what would you learn about overcoming adversity? If there was never a bump in the road, would you know to slow down when you saw one ahead so that you could either navigate around it or slow down to take it easier over the top? So while I hope that the road will always be smooth before you, I know that it won’t, so I share with you what I have learned. Take it easy. Being too serious about the rain means that you are not appreciating that the flowers are being watered, and the tomatoes as well, which means both beauty and food. Also, be mindful that every ending is a new beginning (my new favorite saying), so be on the lookout for all that there is to learn, all that there is to experience, and all that you have inside you that proves that you are the hero of your own life.

The Joys of Mastery

It occurred to me this morning that when I wrote yesterday about repeating some action or effort you once took that was so hard the first time, I was really talking about the Joys of Mastery. Just about the only things we are born knowing how to do are eat sleep breathe, and basic bodily functions that are not yet under our control. Actually even eating sleeping and breathing are things we learn to master later. Earlier they are just “there” under the control of the autonomic nervous system. Think about all the things you do in a day that are done on automatic pilot—in other words, you don’t have to consciously think about them. From the moment we arise in the morning, we go to the bathroom, something we learned to control when our mothers thought we were ready to do so. We talk to our spouse or child, another learned behavior that we mastered at a very young age, dress ourselves, which I’ll remind you we took over the job from Mom or nanny or whoever, walk through the house. Walking is a trial and error experience that we work at until we get it right. And from that we move on to running and jumping and playing games. Think of how masterful you are that you not only know how to do these things, but you have Mastery. Unfortunately, war, accidents, or trauma sometimes intrude on our mastery of a skill, and it has to be learned all over again, but the brain is a marvelous place that allows new pathways to be built when something causes an established pathway to close down. We get so good at things and sometimes we do them so on automatic pilot, that we forget to pay attention to what we are doing, hence, the idiots who text while driving. While we can drive along and listen to the radio or a book, we have to be ever vigilant and prepared to slow down or stop. Just because it’s easy and it feels as if we have mastered all the little nuances of the activity, it doesn’t mean that we can be ‘out to lunch’ when we are doing it. I seem to have slipped off the track here for a moment, because what I really wanted to say today is very much the way I want to live my life, and if you try it, you will love living yours. Appreciate all the things you have mastered in your life, all the things that we all come to take for granted. Everyone masters different life skills, corresponding to what their life is like, but we all master the basics, talking, walking, etc. If you grew up on a farm, you might notice the weather far more than if you grew up in the desert. If your life was in the city, you might know how to hail a cab, or jump on a cable car or make the subway. If you lost a parent early in life you learned skills that others might not have, and the same if you lived in a place where war touched your life. As human beings, we have such elasticity, such adaptability, such amazing powers of Mastery. So take some time to appreciate all the things you know, all the things you are, and all the possibilities out there of things you can learn and master. And then, Appreciate what an amazing creature you are, and bask in the Joys of Mastery.

Doing things again.

Today I decided I was too tired to do anything but sew. It is one of my favorite pastimes, and better than therapy when I am mulling things over. It seemed a good time to make something really hard, so I undertook to make a jacket that I have made before, and was probably the hardest thing I have ever constructed. It is a jacket designed for travel, with lots of secure pockets in the lining for carrying passports and money and whatever. Although I am not much of a traveler, I made this jacket a while back, and it took me a couple of weeks to follow all the detailed instructions of where things were supposed to be attached to be both secure and accessible. Today, I wondered at first why I wanted to spend another couple of weeks making a jacket that have not yet worn, but in another fabric. Then I knew that I needed to be absorbed, and this would fill the bill. But I found out something very interesting. After about two concentrated hours of pinning, pressing, and sewing, I am about one third of the way finished. The way is familiar, the destination plain to me, and it just requires my attention to get the job done. It occurred to me that there are so many things in life just like that. Remember finding your way to school for the first time? It all seemed so mysterious, and then it wasn’t. Remember your first day on the job, any job, and how you wondered if you would ever master this complicated process? And then you did, and by the time you taught it to your replacement, it all seemed like a piece of cake. So many of the firsts that we do in life are like that, aren’t they? How nice to confirm that we learn by doing, and that life can get easier in some ways while it is getting harder in others. I think it is important to confirm to ourselves that we are constant learners, and that with the learning comes something else—the responsibility of passing on what you have learned to someone else. Last week I shared some of what I learned at the Shoah Foundation to a class of 6th and 7th grade students. I cannot know what they took away, and of course it was not the first time this subject has been introduced to them and surely it will not be the last, but it felt right to be a conduit between the past and the present and the future. Teaching is something I have not done in a while, and it reminded me of how very important it is to keep in touch with those learning about what you already know. There is always a new question that comes up that makes you think or reflect. There is a new pair of eyes that you can look through to give you a new view. So today, I recommend that you do something complicated—again. It might be cooking a complicated dish, or writing something about your thoughts, or building something, or fixing something in your house. It might be repairing a relationship that needs some work. Doing it again is easier and nicer the second time around.

The Elasticity of Time

The last weeks have treated me to a lesson in how differently we see time in different stages and experiences of life. Remember being a child and waiting for something that you wanted pretty badly to happen? The wait was endless. For some kids, waiting for Christmas or Chanukah or a birthday makes time creep along like the slowest snail on the team; for me it was waiting for the first day of school. It was the day I wanted more than anything else, and since it came generally the week after my birthday, it was a double waiting whammy. In our house, by the time I realized that I was the only kid left behind when the others went off to school, I figured that school must be some terrific place. When finally my family moved to our own place (we had been living in a multiple family home) I was ready for kindergarten and that was just fine with me. I loved school and could hardly wait for the end of weekends, and later the end of summer. When we were older, we waited for what? We waited for summer to begin, we waited to be asked on dates, we waited for graduations and milestones, and we waited for love. Some of our waits were open ended, like waiting for love, and some had a time stamp, or an expiration date. If we had no date for the prom, well, it wasn’t really the tragedy that we felt it was at the time. But the expiration date took away the pain until the next occasion that we wanted to go to and needed to be asked. (You can tell this was prior to the freedom of girls doing the asking) The time stamped waits were for parties, the end of the school year, graduation, and later, weddings and pregnancies. It only seemed like the period of gestation for a human being was two or more years. The same nine months, give or take a week, applied to everyone. As we mature, the waits become quite a bit more profound, and not easier, and while some seem to stretch time beyond imagining, and others seem to shrink it, the same sixty minutes pass by every hour, and the same 24 hours every day. Waiting to hear the doctor’s pronouncement on your sick child’s status makes the clock seem to be stuck in molasses, and knowing that death lies close by our sick parent reminds us of all the things we meant to say and didn’t take the time. Same 24/7, but couldn’t be more different. Each of us experiences crises and high points, thrills and chills as they say in the movies, and feels them differently. I have been reminded in the last couple of weeks to slow down and appreciate, and to hurry up and get things done. I have kicked myself for wasting time watching TV, and thoroughly enjoyed myself teaching a class to sassy 7th graders to remind them that they must take up the reins to be witnesses to history. I have, as we always do, reminded myself that this is only February, and I have already let some of my resolutions take a back seat to my busy-ness. So while time seems to be crunching up when you are paying attention to getting those taxes In to the accountant, filling out the forms that they need at your child’s school, and paying your bills, don’t forget to put “you” on the list, and let the elasticity of time stretch out so that you can read a couple of those magazines you love that are getting stacked up in the corner, don’t forget to stretch the time you spend hugging your kid or your dog, or making the acquaintance of the elderly couple that walk in the park at the same time you do. It’s all time well spent.

Living Mindfully

How does it happen that the days go zipping by, and we hardly notice them one by one, but then we look up, and it’s already February? I think that from now on, I am going to have a summing up time, so that I can mark what has happened in my life. If every day, or let’s say every evening, I were to take five minutes to look back on the day, and see what went well, what I might like to have done differently, where I need to make adjustments, I think that this reflection might be beneficial. Don’t you? It could be done while I brush my teeth. Your mind is essentially unoccupied while you are flossing, so what about taking up that empty space in reflection? And then, while I am changing my clothes, another mindless activity, take another five minutes to think of the day ahead, not to plan my to-do list, but to plan how I want to feel, what way I can leave the world a little better, how I can make someone else’s day a little brighter, I think that would be a good thought to take to bed with me. Perhaps then the days would not just slip by without notice, but be time periods when differences were made by mindful living and thinking. At the end of a week of more mindful living and thinking, I will have some worthwhile things to reflect on. Sometimes, and I am in one of those times, we are brought up short by the unexpected. And it is not necessarily even bad things that happen. It is just not part of the regular program. It is a reminder that we have only so much time on this earth to accomplish what we hold most dear. Today is the day to get about it. Leaving the important stuff, like taking better care of ourselves, until we have time, is just silly. We have to carve out the time to do what is important, to say what needs to be said, and to be who we want to be. I have a quote on my refrigerator, the source of all wisdom. It says: When you know who you are and what it is you want, you are that much closer to getting it. So take today to think about those two things. Who are you? And What do you want? It won’t come to you all at once, and tomorrow you might change, but if you start to think about it today, you are that much closer to the answer. Have and great and mindful day.

Wellness

Have you ever noticed that when you are sick, you always think about how appreciative you are going to be when you are well again, and then, like everyone else, when you get well again, you start taking your wellness for granted? You know, of course, that you are just like everyone else in this case. Don’t we just get busy doing what we are doing, taking care of appointments, going to meetings, seeing friends, and the occasional festive outing, and just figure that nothing is going to stop us from this routine. And then, no matter what else you have going, something unexpected happens, and you get the flu, or a cold, or a pulled muscle, or a broken something-or-other. And you are down for the count. That’s where I am right now. I have the miserable flu, even though I took the precaution of taking a flu shot in good time before the season, and have tried to eat my fruits and veggies. It’s like looking at yourself from afar. You’re cranky and you know it, but you feel awful, so WTF. You know you should not only drink liquids, but replenish the minerals that are being drained out, but you feel too miserable to pay attention or make sure of anything, so you pass good sense right by. You know that you need sleep, but darned if you can get it, so you even forget about the value of catnaps. This brings me to the subject of wellness. I have vowed to be more appreciative of the healthy happy busy days that I usually have, and work to optimize them by doing all the things I know I should. Since by now I am on the mend, I am thinking about whether I should go to meetings or shake hands or be out in public. Kissing is out, hand washing is in. Sleeping, that inexact activity is sometimes hard to come by at the right time. Yesterday’s catnap took its toll on overnight sleep. So do I catnap today or not? I know that part of the reason I got sick was that I was sleep deprived. Do I eat raw veggies since I am not so active these days, or do I stick with soft foods that go down easier? The point is that taking care of ourselves is a very inexact science at best, but the most important thing we have to do since everything else depends on it. I am an inveterate clipper of columns on health, advice, wellness, etc. One that I am trying to follow lately is on “Trying to achieve calm”. Because I think that wellness really needs attention and the only way to truly give it that is to do so in a clam state of mind. So one of the things I am trying to follow is to give myself three minutes every hour of every day, no matter what else is going on. This is from a column of Iyanla Vanzant, take one minute three times an hour to take a deep breath to a count of four, and then let it out, again to the count of four. She says it’s a way to achieve calm, and I am working on it. You try it too and see what happens. I hope it will add calm to my day and my life, and what life can’t use a little extra calm. I am trying to schedule the calm, not wait until I have time to get to it, because by that time, I am so frazzled, that it would take heaps more than a breath to achieve calm. I think it will add to my attempts toward wellness. Remember that wellness is not just the absence of sickness, it is the good feeling that contributes to creativity, happiness, and a positive outlook on life. So go for it and and breathe your way to wellness.

The Price of Love

I have found that often, when I come across something and put it aside, it sometimes turns up just when I need it. Is this a coincidence or does the unconscious know that it is there and go for it at just the right time? Last night I came across this quote by an unknown author, that I had copied down on a 3 x 5 card, and I have no idea how long or since when it has been sitting on my desk. It is as follows: “Grief never ends…But it is a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith. It is the price of love.” And in thinking about this, there is no price too great to pay for genuine love. All the poets and the song writers who have tried to capture the essence of love have come close, but alas, no cigar. Love is not something one can describe, it is something that one can only feel. If you are a parent, do you remember the way you felt while you were waiting for your child to be born? You thought you knew what love was then, right? And then came the moment when you first laid eyes on this child of your heart, and you may have realized that you never really knew the meaning of the word love. It’s like a switch that is thrown, and only after that do you know what you have been missing. Being human, we all must experience loss, and in the process, grief as well. But the advice that grief is a passage, and not a place to stay is sage indeed. We never stop missing those we have loved, whether it is a grandparent, a partner, or a pet. It doesn’t go away, it only changes. And it is right that it should change. Are we not lucky, that even with the grief and the pain of loss, there comes a time when there is again enough room in our hearts for new love to blossom? It is never the same, it is different in one way or another, and we may call the new love by a similar name-- partner, friend—but as surely as we are human, with dozens of people inside of us, we will find new and sparkling ways to love the new people and pets in our lives when we are ready. So today, on the first day of this New Year, that I begin with so much hope, I will count my many blessings, and I will take the time to feel true gratitude for those I have loved and lost, and for all of the delicious and wonderful ways they added something to this world of ours. I would not be the person that I have become without them, and though there is still much I want to do and learn and be, those I have loved have given me the start, and I live with appreciation every day that I have had them in my life, and whatever pain I have experienced at their passing, is nothing in comparison to the gifts of the love I have experienced and well worth the price.