My 4 rules I live by:

1.  Be thankful for all things

2.  Do the best you can

3.  Be mindful of the present moment

4.  Show people you care

Same...

I met a man today in a business meeting.  As is often the case, we veered off the meeting’s agenda and spoke a bit about our lives.  On outward appearances we were distinctly different. He was a black man, a Muslim and was tall in stature.  I am a white woman, Christian and slight in build.  As we conversed, however, it became apparent that our lives held many similarities: we both have adult children in their twenties; we had both made the choice to  home school our children when they had entered their teen years;  we both placed high value on education; we both were intrigued by and enjoyed immersion in other cultures;  we both practiced mindfulness and being present in the moment; we both were advocates of  time spent with our children; we both surrounded ourselves with individuals who supported us in all ways; we both believed in a higher power; we both had traveled extensively; we both were yoga practitioners ; we both preferred fresh food, prepared at home; we both felt that our country was in turmoil . Two people, outwardly opposites.  Inwardly, were two were people, very much the same.

The Pilgrimage...

I've been reading "The Pilgrimage" by Paulo Coelho which is about his experiences in walking the Santiago de Compostela (I hope to walk it myself someday!).

I came across this quote last night and thought it was so indicative of where we are as a society at present, or perhaps where we always have been.

Sage words and four mantras by Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh

“I think we always learn from our suffering.  From the ash of suffering, a phoenix can be born. That is why mindfulness helps us to look deeply into into the suffering we have. Many positives will come out of that. It depends on our way of responding to the event.”

 

“Happiness and suffering support each other.  They are inter-are.  It’s like the left and the right.  If the left is not there, there can be no right. The same thing is true with suffering and happiness. Good and evil are inter-are also. In every one of us there are good seeds and bad seeds. There is a lotus which grows out of the mud. We need the mud in order to make the lotus. You cannot grow the lotus on marble. You need to grow it on the mud. So, suffering is the type of mud we must be able to use in order to grow the flower of understanding and love. “

His four mantras you must say to your beloved:  

1.   “Darling, I am here for you.”

2.    “Darling, I know you are there." (To be loved is to be recognized as existing.)

3.   “Darling, I know you suffer.  That is why I am here for you.”

4.   “Darling, I suffer. I am trying my best to practice. Please help me.” (When you are deeply hurt by your beloved.) 

Dementia is a a son of a bitch

I’ll start by apologizing if I offended anyone by the title of this writing.  I spent the late morning and early afternoon with my mother and her sister, my Aunt Bobbie.  Bobbie drove by herself from Denver Colorado to spend time with her only sibling, my mother.  Bobbie has had the good fortune of beating the odds and not being afflicted by dementia.  Their father, my grandfather, was not so fortunate.  When I see my mother struggling to find her words I am, painfully, reminded of him. 

My grandfather’s dementia began to affect his gait and balance. One day, while taking his daily shower, he became unsteady on his feet and grabbed the towel bar. According to my grandmother, it didn’t work.  He fell to the ground with the towel bar in his hand, ripped from the wall.  My grandfather was a large man.  Not slight of build and not heavy, but in between.  He was the only man I have ever seen that looked regal in his overalls he wore while farming.   

My grandmother decided that my grandfather needed care that she could not provide.  He was placed in a long-term care facility.  It was the only one in Bedford, Iowa.  She tried to make his room as comfortable as was possible.  A recliner was placed in the room, as was a television. Despite these comforts of home, my grandfather was saddened.  Saddened by not living in the home he had earned by his hard work. Sometimes he farmed for 14 hours a day.

I was close to my grandfather and I adored him.  He must have known this somehow and reciprocated with kindness and love.  He phoned me one night shortly after he was placed in the nursing home.  He said that he was “losing his mind”: that he couldn’t find his words to effectively communicate.  I believe a loss of this type is a large blow to a man who was quiet yet thoughtful.  He was a listener instead of a talker.  When he did speak, however, his words were thoughtful and picked with precision.

My grandfather passed away from a heart attack.  He had been in the nursing home for one week.  I think his heart gave out around the time he realized that his cognition was deteriorating.  I do hope my mother is spared from this, but I feel I sadness for her loss of memory and ability to communicate her thoughts and feelings.  When Bobbie and I were with her today, I asked my mother how she was doing.  She replied that her mind was “jumbled”; that she was in “a terrible state.”  Bobbie and I got quiet. We knew that her sentiments were real, and we knew that we must give her the time, the respect to express her feelings. 

I wish that I could fix my mother—for her sake and for our sakes.  This is the situation however.  This is the luck of the draw.  Dementia is a son of a bitch.

We write the narratives of our lives...

We write the narratives of our lives. Bit by bit we have experiences that change us and we become the persons, the beings of who we are.  I would hazard to guess most of us do not realize that the day to day, sometimes mundane experiences shape us into who we are. You see, that's the thing that often escapes us. We are our authors. We write the narratives of our lives.

Travel without fear...

Travel without trepidation or fear.

Do not worry, you will not fall off. 

The world is not flat.

Hard work, beans and beer....

I just had the most interesting conversation with the cable guy. He said he was from Miranda City which is in south Texas (population is around 160). He said when he was 5, his grandmother had her 106th birthday. When they were having her birthday party they saw a Presidential motorcade driving down their dirt road. President Reagan stepped out to wish her a Happy Birthday and eat tamales and birthday cake with her. He even drank a bottle of Modelo Especial with her! How many times in a person's life do you enjoy a birthday party with a President?! 

P.S. When the President asked her the secret to living to 106, she said "hard work, beans, and beer."

Making it through...

I had a friend that shared with me that his friend opted out of this world. They had served in the Marine Corps and had experienced things which we could never comprehend as we set safely in our insulated bubbles.

My friend and I texted back and forth about this.  My response: "I'm glad you felt you could share this with me. I have thought about this many times-of the things you guys have seen and maybe cannot be unseen.

We all struggle with our demons. Some take human form, some are those nightmares we have which can climb out of our unconscious when we are sleeping. I know for myself that I cannot dwell in those dark corners too long.

You asked me awhile back why you didn't put an end to your story when times got dark. I asked you to give me some time to think about it. The short answer is this-maybe you have it in your DNA to be in the light. That if you just make it through that dark period that there will be enough of someone or something to make you want to stay.

But what do I know? I'm just a skinny, middle aged, white woman from Iowa just trying to make it through. It is not a bad life if you have a few good family and friends, a few good times, and a few good memories yet to be had."

Arc...

Sometimes you have an experience 

that changes the arc of your life.