"Our children are living messages we send to a time and place we will never see."
... I think this includes nephews, too.
Last weekend, he and I went to a Native American celebration at a nearby park. He was very excited about this latest adventure, and reminded me repeatedly that his great-great-great somebody was "100% Indian." I listened to the enthusiastic pride in his voice, and replied, "You know, Buddy, that means you're a warrior yourself. That means you work hard for the things that matter, and you don't give up." As we drove the long road to the park, I pressed on,"You know, Buddy, one of the things I admire most about you is your loyalty. You are a good friend. You have a gift for looking out for people. That one trait will serve you well in life, if you are a good friend."
Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell he was listening, and grinning a little.
From the moment he was born, he's had to work harder than most. He's my inspiration, and if I could give him a world without any more pain or disappointment, I would.
Be well.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
That Whole Work-Life Balance Thing
I'm not sure what gets the credit: the early morning meditation, the exercise routine that follows, or the new vitamins.
Years ago, I participated in guided meditation classes in a granola-y,-Every-day-is- Earth-Day,-can't-we-all-just-get-along part of town. As much as I loved that neighborhood, those were some of the longest evenings, where time ticked...ticked...ticked by so slowly in that blank, still room. Emptying and quieting one's mind required inner discipline I didn't possess then, and wasn't all that interested in obtaining. Frankly, I spent more time trying to catch other people's eye, trying to make them break pose and laugh out loud.
In any case, meditation this time around feels more centering and not such a power struggle.
All this healthy stuff means I've been making some other choices, too, like separating from some fruitless activities unworthy of my time and effort. It's funny: once you do rake out the cobwebbed debris of old patterns and mind games, suddenly the calendar cracks wide, and expands for more fun, enlightening stuff.
Lately, I've been building into the workday little bits of things that make ME happy: photography, film editing, writing, daydreaming, reading, visiting, music, laughing.
I've gone out of my way, in small, but significant steps, to actually live out what I believe deep down, which is that life is good. Not perfect, but good.
I'm thanking God more for the blue sky, and the four hundred million other things I take for granted. I'm trying to be thankful for the things that are now, the things that were, and the things that are to come.
(Yep, it's a long list.)
This happy burst of energy, however long it lasts, is welcome, and I hope it stays a while.
Be well.
Years ago, I participated in guided meditation classes in a granola-y,-Every-day-is- Earth-Day,-can't-we-all-just-get-along part of town. As much as I loved that neighborhood, those were some of the longest evenings, where time ticked...ticked...ticked by so slowly in that blank, still room. Emptying and quieting one's mind required inner discipline I didn't possess then, and wasn't all that interested in obtaining. Frankly, I spent more time trying to catch other people's eye, trying to make them break pose and laugh out loud.
In any case, meditation this time around feels more centering and not such a power struggle.
All this healthy stuff means I've been making some other choices, too, like separating from some fruitless activities unworthy of my time and effort. It's funny: once you do rake out the cobwebbed debris of old patterns and mind games, suddenly the calendar cracks wide, and expands for more fun, enlightening stuff.
Lately, I've been building into the workday little bits of things that make ME happy: photography, film editing, writing, daydreaming, reading, visiting, music, laughing.
I've gone out of my way, in small, but significant steps, to actually live out what I believe deep down, which is that life is good. Not perfect, but good.
I'm thanking God more for the blue sky, and the four hundred million other things I take for granted. I'm trying to be thankful for the things that are now, the things that were, and the things that are to come.
(Yep, it's a long list.)
This happy burst of energy, however long it lasts, is welcome, and I hope it stays a while.
Be well.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Brains and Hearts
Today one of my favorite people came in for a chat. She keeps her weekly visits brief, always punctuated with calm smiles and generous doses of humanity. Today, though, the conversation turned, and I learned more about her husband, and the challenges he's faced since his brain injury a few years ago. She shared about his depression, and their collective frustration over his short-term memory.
All I could do was nod and listen, and hand her tissues.
I thought of a hundred ideas to share, but today, I think she just needed someone to talk to. Somebody who could relate. That somebody was me today.
Less than an hour after she left, the phone rang, and I learned that someone who had listened to me for countless hours over the past six years, had died. I'm having a delayed reaction to this, and I can't fathom that someone who was so strong for so many is not here any longer.
Dr. C. was pragmatic, and sensible, and funny. She was also a laser beam - able to look squarely at a problem, and then get you to talk about ways to cope with it. She asked the questions that we were often too tired, or close to, or frightened, to ask.
Dr. C. made us dig for, and expand, our internal resources, but at the end of every time together, you were better for it. That newly-discovered strength made us stronger for the people we cared about.
Maybe that's her legacy: she imbued so much encouragement and hope to others, that now that same strength is still going out into the universe, to the people who need it most.
Be well.
All I could do was nod and listen, and hand her tissues.
I thought of a hundred ideas to share, but today, I think she just needed someone to talk to. Somebody who could relate. That somebody was me today.
Less than an hour after she left, the phone rang, and I learned that someone who had listened to me for countless hours over the past six years, had died. I'm having a delayed reaction to this, and I can't fathom that someone who was so strong for so many is not here any longer.
Dr. C. was pragmatic, and sensible, and funny. She was also a laser beam - able to look squarely at a problem, and then get you to talk about ways to cope with it. She asked the questions that we were often too tired, or close to, or frightened, to ask.
Dr. C. made us dig for, and expand, our internal resources, but at the end of every time together, you were better for it. That newly-discovered strength made us stronger for the people we cared about.
Maybe that's her legacy: she imbued so much encouragement and hope to others, that now that same strength is still going out into the universe, to the people who need it most.
Be well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
