Steady CM readers know that my siblings and I recently set up our 91-year-old father's house to accommodate round-the-clock nursing care. We turned our late mother's dressing room into a pretty single bedroom just twenty feet from Dad's bed so that the live-in nurse can quickly rise and attend to Dad in the middle of the night.
When a nurse or hospice worker is on the job, the relationship gets quickly intimate. It's almost like an angel-confessor flutters in, and magically absorbs the family's woes. All was well when I came back to New York, and Dad was bonding nicely with all three of the women sharing his care.
Of the three, one woman stood out as an especially sweet, well-meaning soul. While Dave Ann was forty-something, and a mother of nearly grown kids, she seemed surprisingly young, like she was still emerging from a protective cocoon. In the course of the time my sister and I were down there, I developed the self-indulgent fantasy that Dave Ann was opening up and finding our family fascinating: she accompanied Dad to his first appointment with an acupuncturist two weeks ago (somewhat thrust upon him by his bossy urban daughters), she listened to a Handel oratorio with us at high volume, she watched parts of a long documentary on the life of Theodore Roosevelt (and seemed so interested that my sister offered her the tape to take home), and she'd helped Dad and his wheelchair get to church just last Sunday.
Wednesday night, we received the most implausible, tragic news from her employer: Dave Ann was dead. She'd died in a car crash on Tuesday. A rear tire had blown, and she'd lost control.
My first chattering thought, upon getting this news secondhand from my sister, was: "No, it's Dad who is close to death. Dad is 91. Dave Ann is young. She just joined us." After processing the fact that I knew she had children, and that her husband had died several years ago, I was racked with grief for her remaining family.
"Dad," I said the next day, still struggling to absorb the sequence of events, "since you still write columns for the newspaper, maybe you should write something about Dave Ann. Perhaps you should gather your thoughts on the...I don't know, maybe it's the seeming randomness of death. Maybe in paying tribute to her, you could also deal with what's happening to you."
He didn't jump at my suggestion. He is still weak. He can only do so much. So he sent a wonderful note, a check, and a ham to Dave Ann's family.
Up until this morning, if you can believe it, I'd actually forgotten that I am blogging, and that I could tell you about this up-ending experience. When I told the whole story to Beliefnet.com's astrology columnist Shelley Ackerman, she said, "When you analyze the final days of someone's life, they are always amazing."
And Dave Ann's were amazing. One light has been shut off. But another is lit and burning. I remember giving Dave Ann a kiss on the cheek when I left. Silly chattering me was thinking: "I wonder if kissing Dave Ann is appropriate." And now I'm so glad I kissed her. I'm so glad I did.
"Death is a difficult topic, but thinking about it is so worthwhile. Understanding death will transform how we live. We will instinctively know what's important and what's not. We will want to cultivate qualities that will make us blossom spirtually and radiate peace and joy for all--and not just in this life, but also in the infinite future."
"I sometimes wish you were more of a religious teacher," I once told a therapist I'd been seeing for years.
"My own children have said the same thing," he said. Then I think he chuckled softly.
Today, many more psychotherapists are acquainting themselves with life's spiritual dimension in spite of their training. Times have changed, and the realms of psychotherapy and spirituality are cross-pollinating!
That's why I'm ecstatically gleeful to introduce you to the audio downloads at Shrink Rap Radio! Here, you'll find psychologist David Van Nuys's fascinating conversations with a crew of highly regarded psychologists and psychiatrists interested in spirituality, parapsychology, healing, and higher consciousness. This morning, for instance, I listened to a wonderful interview on Shrink Rap with renowned psychologist Charlie Tart, who was among the group of curious researchers who first wrote about the spiritual characteristics of psychedelic drug use in the 1960s. Today, Tart wants to know more about the altered states of consciousness achieved through meditation. A godfather of the New Age movement, Tart also edits an archive of hard-to-explain, "transcendent" moments experienced by scientists.
Shrink Rap has other interviews with marvelous titles like: "The Impact of Spiritual Transformation on Healing from Serious Illness," and "Shamanic Psychology." By all means, check it out!
Hey gals: Do you want to have a good menopause? This may not be the most burning question for all of my readers, but for those of us contemplating it, please, can we talk? I was just saying to the critical care nurse practitioner/nutritionist who has become my reproductive health caretaker that I really want to have a good menopause--that doesn't seem too much to ask--but everything I'm hearing in the news has made a woman's later years sound confusing and awful.
Fear not, this herb-and-vitamin dispensing medical professional (who comes from a food-loving Italian family) told me: There is hope, there is time, and many gazillions of pioneering women have gone before me. Apparently, the roots of a good menopause are embedded in the adrenal glands. These cute adrenaline-producing little fellas sit on top of the kidneys, releasing hormones. And as a woman ages, her "mission control" shifts from the ovaries to the adrenals. That's why dehydrated women who drink coffee heavily, shout directives at coworkers, and locate stress in every disappointment, might have a harder time with hot flashes than women who eat wisely, stay hydrated, and get their C- and B-vitamins ingested between yoga sessions. I know, my explanation of this is not phrased in the language of an expert. But the bottom line is that if the adrenal glands are stressed going into menopause, then menopause can become the hardship that breaks the adrenal's back, as it were.
Let me refer you to good online sources that describe this phenomenon properly (here and here and here) and echo what my nurse just told me. Additionally, I have discovered a website on menopause that I'd like to share. Write in if you have "good menopause" stories!
If you work as a manager/team leader, or if you know someone currently struggling to stay conscious and heart-centered in a business management or ownership situation, the Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care, and Society is coordinating a "Power of Mindfulness" retreat October 27-November 1, 2006 for leaders within business and nonprofit organizations. The instructor is spiritual activist/meditation teacher Jon Kabat-Zinn, founder of the Center for Mindfulness at the University of Massachusetts Medical School and author of the mind/body classic "Full-Catastrophe Living."
Held at the Menla Mountain Retreat in Phoenicia, New York, the conference will give business people the opportunity to learn about "moment-to-moment, nonjudgmental attention," and will provide guided instruction in meditation aimed at "cultivating stability and ease, penetrative awareness, and the insight and creativity that flows from them."
Only problem: The business leaders who most desperately need this life-altering opportunity may not get there. But that's OK. The world will transform without them.
This month's Sage Woman magazine ("celebrating the goddess in every woman") gives Real Simple and other slick, "complicated lifestyle magazines" a run for their money with articles like "Simplicity as an Act of Worship," and "Packing Light." Formerly the mag of choice for goddess worshippers and pagans, this now 94-page long publication has much to offer every wild person, and there are growing numbers of us.
Let the sunshine in! Naturally. I've purchased three seven-ounce tubes of UV Natural SPF 30+ sunscreen, which is now selling at Whole Foods, Nordstrom, and in the Chinaberry and Isabella catalogs. (Pssst: here's a link to a place that reduces the price if you buy more than six tubes.) Glowing write-ups insist this non-greasy formula contains none of the toxic chemicals you'd find in grocery store sunscreens. And even though the label doesn't say it, UVNatural is also biodegradable, which means it won't hurt marine life (years ago, shouldn't that film we left in the ocean have told us something?). I feel safe in telling you this product is biodegradable because I just anonymously emailed the company's California-based president (the company's Australian) to ask if I could snorkel anywhere in it, and he said he'd gladly write a note to any resort attesting to his product's biodegrade-ability since he hasn't yet received new product labels that say as much! Nice of him to offer, don't you think?
Explore other options by reading this excellent natural sunscreen guide in the Green Guide that lists sunscreens made by Lavera, Epicuren Discovery, Devita, California Baby, Jason, and a few others. Finally, here's a pediatric dermatologist attesting that UV Natural's most active ingredient (good old zinc oxide) is one of two good things (the other being titanium dioxide) to use on children more than six months of age. Gosh, it makes me recall one trip to Florida when our youngest Chat was fat, dimply, and too young for sunscreen. I walked with him in his snuggly on the beach daily, but he never saw a thing; I kept him covered head to foot with a white towel. Protective mom extraordinaire, that's me!
I think we did so well by Paul (whose spam filter has kicked back my note telling him we tackled his relationship problem last week), that I'm now encouraging all readers to ask me for assistance in addressing personal/spiritual challenges. You may email me any time at chatteringmind@beliefnetstaff.com, and I will send you my best advice, as well as share with you the wisdom of my community of friends.
Together, I know we can shed light on whatever is troubling you. In looking around the web to see who else is taking spiritual questions from readers, I found this useful page on Sally Kempton's (a.k.a. Swami Durgananda) website, where she publishes generous responses to both personal and meditation practice-related questions. I'm always helped by her columns in "Yoga Journal".
Brooklyn-based, internationally-known Feng Shui teacher Nancy SantoPietro recently sent the following invitation to those interested in studying what she calls "Chakracology," a healing method she created that combines shining colored light on the body with music and sound to heal and re-direct stuck energy. Of more general interest to CM readers, perhaps, is the language she uses in her note to convey her enthusiasm for the times in which we live (which many people find more than a tad depressing). Tell me what you think of her assessment:
Calling All Lightworkers The past few years have been very challenging times on the planet! Since the Paradigm Shift that occurred in 2000, there have been several very exciting planetary events that have allowed for a massive influx of "light" to enter the planet. As this infusion of light enters the planet, it is also entering our bodies (Chakras), our homes (Feng Shui) and changing the vibrational frequency of our DNA! This unprecedented increase of solar light energy is bringing with it many new opportunities for us to transmute old paradigms and release all the things that we have been working on so hard and so long to change.
This is a Wonderful Time to be on The Planet! This light is also bringing us the energetic opportunity to rework our lives at a very accelerated speed, rapidly changing the way we think, feel, love and manifest the things we desire! For some, this transmutation process can create much personal (and global) chaos, especially during the period just before the new higher vibration and energy patterns set in. Relationships, finances, careers, spiritual concepts and personal desires are all in flux, causing much confusion for those who desire to make changes but lack the clarity needed on which direction to take. To further complicate matters, many of the healers, Feng Shui consultants and other lightworkers we have traditionally turned to for clarity, advice and support are also being impacted by this shift, feeling confused and without their own sense of direction. Although this may feel scary and ungrounding at first, it is the beginning of the "greatest period of time on the planet"!
Do you believe what she's saying? Would you go so far to say that the next thirty-five years will be the most exciting in human history?
posted by Chattering Mind @ 10:17 PM | Permalink |
Thanks to reader Wendy for recommending these two uplifting, well-reviewed GameCube games: It's a Wonderful Life (part of the "Harvest Moon" series), and Animal Crossing. I'm ordering them today (since the elder Chattering has a birthday in May), and I'll report back.
I have seen the future of jewelry and this is it: beautifully arranged, energetically potent gemstones charged with healing Reiki energy. Wow. Wouldn't you love to wear jewelry that has been prayed over to bless you? If you were ill, wouldn't you want to wear stones that might give you a physical and psychic boost? I took jewelry designer Liz Alpert's business card at a recent conference. Looking at her site, I see is that she's re-introduced a healing dimension to wearing metal and stones that dates back centuries. She struggled with back pain that inspired her to infuse her work with more spirit.
Of course, Roman Catholics know what a sacred medal (metal) can do. And surely, jewelry passed down through a family has a significant psychic charge. But our mother's generation sometimes wore earrings, brooches, and necklaces to look dressy, pulled together, or even well off--that appears to be over! There's also non-custom, spiritual jewelry from EnergyMuse.com made with Chinese coins and stones. Spiritually-inclined celebrities like Tony Robbins and Heidi Klum wear the stuff (I have to admit this gang looks deliberately pulled-together and prosperous). Be on the lookout for department store or flea market spin-offs. And Tibetan and Hindu sites abound with items folks like us want to wear.
Also remember that you can charge or bless any object yourself by holding it and filling it with good intention. What uplifting stories do you have about the jewelry you wear? (I've started wearing a favorite rhinestone bracelet in the daytime. I say: What the heck? I'm spreading good chi throughout the land.)
In the coming monthsOmega Institute will provide live web broadcasts of three major workshops. For a fee that ranges from $65 to $100, you'll be able to experience retreats broadcast live from Rhinebeck, New York, from the comfort of your own meditation cushion or yoga mat. Then, for 90 days you can review any webcast session as often as you wish, and even stay connected online with others who took the workshop this way.
The first three teachers whose seminars will be offered are American Buddhist nun and sell-out lecturer Pema Chödrön (May 12-14), Insight Meditation co-founder Jack Kornfield, Ph.D. and lay-Zen Buddhist Trudy Goodman (August 4-6), and the fun-loving, charismatic anusara/hatha yoga teacher John Friend (September 17-22).
To register, visit Omega on-line. This page includes broadband moments with each instructor. Pricing varies depending upon how you intend to watch.
Below, a request from CM readers researching a spiritual pet book:
- Do you consider your relationship to your pets(s) sacred and spiritual? - Do you count furry, fishy, or flying friends as part of the family? - Are there any family events, experiences, prayers or blessings that you share with your animals? - Is there a special way you have remembered a lost pet?
If you answered yes to any of the above, all-faith ministers Rev. Laurie Sue Brockway and Rev. Vic Fuhrman would love to hear your stories for possible inclusion in their upcoming book. The book is in part inspired by Kismet, the dog they rescued from Katrina when their son spotted her and fell in love. They are writing about ALL pets--dogs, cats, birds, fish, ferrets, etc.
To participate, please drop Rev. Laurie Sue an e-mail.
Much as I'd like to say, "My kids play their cellos every morning and are partial to Bach," they actually play computer games on Saturdays, Sundays, and some vacation days. I held off on these until the oldest Chattering felt socially stigmatized, two years ago at the age of nine. We gave him a game called "Civilization" for Hanukkah, and life hasn't been the same since. Drawing the line on those small-screened Game Boy nightmares has been easier: The answer has always been "No." And yet, CM recently found herself so worried about the development of the boys' visual systems (since behavioral optometrists feel we are all screwing our eyes up by staring too long at screens) that I reluctantly agreed to the family purchase of a GameCube, an appliance that runs animated games on the large screen of the television set--instead of the computer. This acquisition seemed an all-round great concept until the boys informed me in the car today that many GameCube games involve shooting at something.
"Shooting at stuff that then shoots back?"
"What did you expect, Mom?" asked the eleven-year-old.
"Well, I was thinking you could find something involving villages or societies that you could design!"
"That you could get with a computer game, but not with a GameCube."
We were parked outside the neighborhood game store, a place I've been uncomfortable with ever since a salesman informed me he doesn't stock educational games or typing software because they sell so poorly.
"So what kind of GameCube game can we get?" the nine-year-old Chattering asked, worried that this outing was a bust.
"I guess I should talk to your dad. I just wanted that GameCube because I thought it would be better for your eyes!"
My sons stared at me. College suddenly looked really good to them.
"Mom," said the elder, trying to stay calm. "You do not live in the real world. You should try to go a whole day living like everybody else."
"Have you EVER played a game on a Game Cube?" the younger asked.
"Well, I'm not a game person."
"Ever in your life, even when you were in high school, did you play Pac Man? Or Mario?"
"I played a game once where I hit gophers on the head with a mallet."
At this point, I was toying with them, but they fell for it and rolled onto their sides laughing.
"That was WHAC-A-MOLE, Mom! You play that in an arcade!" Then they asked a very penetrating question: "What have you been doing all this time?"
"Reading, mostly!" I said.
"Oh man…" they groaned.
I left them to do my own shopping at the Park Slope Food Coop. They spent forty minutes at the game store, finally emerging with an E (for Everyone)-rated GameCube game spun off from the movie "The Incredibles." No shooting. Just a lot of jumping around. The boys were happy with the game upon playing it too, though I now see its press reviews are tepid.
It isn't good that the Chattering boys find me removed from reality. But my influence helps them make good choices. My brother predicts that once they're away from me, all hell will break loose. But I don't think so. Am I kidding myself?
"Movie Mom" Nell Minow, my favorite online film critic, recently wrote a great piece for the Chicago Tribune about her reaction to seeing parents plop a DVD player in front of their daughter so the youngster could watch a Disney film while they all dined in a restaurant. Check it out here.
posted by Chattering Mind @ 10:05 AM | Permalink |
"One lamp--thy mother's love--amid the stars Shall lift its pure flame changeless, and before The throne of God, burn through eternity-- Holy--as it was lit and lent thee here."
Thanks for your posts! Keep writing! I got some good ones on how to speak to the dead. A reader named Mary said that she talks to her deceased Mom all the time. "I ask her for guidance. She helps me find things. Now, it is sometimes not clear whether I am talking to my physical mother, my grandmothers, the Mother Goddess, or just the Universe. Whoever it is, they are there, and they answer."
Reader Seamus says it took time to get used to the idea of communing with those who've departed but that now, he personally believes that "we have access to all the wisdom in the Universe and now I see that whatever it takes to access that wisdom--be it prayer, meditation, angels, cards, channeling, or contact through dreams--is OK. Whatever face people need to put on it, it's the same Source and it comes as we can accept it."
Chanteuse writes: "I value my time more highly and my money less so, so I take less care of it while I focus on getting kids to various activities and on arranging a few for myself--the joy of experiences and social connections.
"However, I sometimes wonder if there is a reverse snobbery about money in there for myself... about either not valuing it enough or trying not to value it enough because we either do care or think we should care about other things more. For some (me?) perhaps even a certain "guilt" about paying too much attention to money so as to "grub" our way toward a higher economic status (than we grew up in?), one which we or our parents or our 70's consciousness might disparage as being too materialistic, too luxurious and not in line also with global issues--environment, poverty of others, etc. How do we reconcile having that much money/things with global issues arising from consumerism?"
Trusty Seamus writes: "My wife and I approach finances with the old Sufi saying, 'Trust God, but tie your camel.' We understand that nothing in this world is really ours and that it's all on loan (even our physical form)."
CM reader Paul has a dilemma. He writes: "I'm in a relationship with a woman who, over dinner, continues to bring up incidents with grown children (who've moved away), and an ex-husband (who has remarried). She does not understand why I am not sympathetic. I believe that what is over and done only gets in the way of the future. What can I do???"
It's a painful and fascinating situation, Paul, placing you in the middle of two relationship philosophies. On one side are those who see sharing personal and spiritual biography as essential to a couple's dialogue and a prerequisite to healing. Then there's the"power of now" way of thinking that says narrative begins anew with every breath; it says history happened, but doesn't matter so much--just be, just open to love.
On the other side are many styles of psychotherapy, "me"-centered decades, and successes of intimate memoirs, all of which have opened floodgates to the sharing of past disappointment or graphic incident. There seems to be some broad confusion regarding what's appropriate to share in new relationships and what isn't. To say nothing of mindful behavior at meals (don't forget that food is sacred!). You are entitled to enjoy your repast and your friend's presence without tales of her damaged kids or failed marriage (if that's what the story is).
Paul, your friend may get upset when you seem unsympathetic to her history because she wants to be unconditionally accepted. She seems to be saying "Here's my big, ugly suitcase, darlin'. And I'm settin' it down!"
What you're noticing (and you must stay modest) is that you have cultivated a greater ability to stay in the moment. Only, you too--like all of us--have your lapses. You're sitting there thinking: "Hey, I could really get into this! Oh...if only she didn't say...Oh, why does she keep going back to that?"
True, your lady friend seems to be avoiding the lovely, aching pain of loving, or feeling vulnerable, by training her thoughts on people who've disappointed her, moved on, or remain at a distance. Tell her you hear her, tell her she's more to you than her suitcase, and then wonder aloud if she might be open to finally letting her suitcase slide out on a cosmic conveyor belt.
Your friend needs to do her own spiritual work in a retreat setting where she can meditate and find specific ways to forgive herself and others. She may need months, even years of flying solo before she is ready for an open, available man like you (of course, if you stay on with her, it is wise to look at how you tend to be present to the troubled, embracing your own low-grade despair with open arms). Don't settle for crumbs!
Hey readers, any other thoughts? It would be wonderful if we gave Paul a lot to truly digest!
"Leave behind all regrets about the past, let us not make the path to the future difficult for ourselves. The very mistakes of the past must not fix attention upon themselves. Striving into the future must be so strong that the light will not grow dim in eyes which are not directed backwards. Let us forsake the past for the sake of the future. One can strive so strongly into the future that in all conditions this blessed eagerness will forever remain."
"In the practice of Intimate Communion we learn that love is something you do, not something you fall into or out of. Love is something that you practice, like playing tennis or the violin, not something you happen to feel or not. If you are waiting to feel love, in passionate sex or safe conversation, you are making a mistake. Love is an action that you do--and when you do it, you feel it. When you are loving, others find you lovable. Love is an action you can practice." --Davd Deida.
After blogging last week on James Van Praagh's views of the afterlife, I was asked by reader Azmina how she might contact her deceased husband. I have my own ideas, but on this I decided to consult my pal Sarvananda Bluestone, an author and psychic with considerable experience.
Bluestone says Azmina could locate a small object that still contains, even symbolically, some of the deceased person's energy. Then she could ask for dreams about her husband while going to sleep with the object under her pillow. "Psychometry with just an article itself might also work," Bluestone adds. "For example, take a ring and hold it, then close your eyes and see what comes. It's one of those cases where the person needs to be as creative as possible."
"All I can do is speak from my own experience," Bluestone says. "A few years ago, I was in the midst of directing two plays with the Woodstock Youth Theater. I had bit off more than I could chew and was miserable. It was one of those times that I really could have benefited from a talk with my mom, who was one of the most incredible teachers. She had died seven years earlier and I was going up to her house on the anniversary of her death. On the way there I simply said to her in the car 'what suggestions do you have?' Instantly, two wonderful suggestions popped into my head. Were they from her? In one sense, absolutely. In another sense, who knows? I'm not exactly saying 'ask and you shall receive,' I'm saying 'as the kingdom of God is within you so are those who have been with you and are no longer in their bodies.'"
Addendum: Since Chattering Mind's mom died three and a half years ago, I've only "spoken" to her once. All I did was tune into the idea of speaking to her, and her voice came quite quickly to me. And do you know what she said? She blurted, "You wouldn't believe how hard they've got us working here."
But I do believe it. And I haven't heard from her since.
"If we have lost someone we love, we must be able to raise ourselves to a feeling of thankfulness that we have had him; we must be able to think selflessly of what he was to us until his death, and not of what we feel, now that we have him no more. The better we can feel what he was to us during his lfe, the sooner will it be possible for him to speak to us; to speak to us through the common air of gratitude."
The Chattering boys are out of school all week, so today I took them to New York City's historic Central Park Zoo (I had to blog until three in the morning to earn this day off, but I'm so glad I did.) Spring is in full flower here; the portrait artists were hawking their services down the sunny path to the zoo's entrance. Horses and buggies! Blossoms! Hot dogs! Candied peanuts! Hasidic families with fathers in fur hats and traditional garb were pushing strollers, enjoying the more relaxed pace of the days after Passover. Yuppie NYC mothers (whose average age, I've noticed, hovers around 48) were hot-flashing and fanning themselves in the zoo's steamy Amazon rain forest. Lovers on lunchbreak were holding hands, gazing longingly into each other's eyes.
Taking this in and not rushing became my practice. The boys weren't ever the problem, it was my mind that wandered off in all directions. At the Chinstrap and Gentoo penguin exhibit, for instance, my kids were enthralled. We stood there as a threesome, watching penguins do everything penguins can--swim, dive, flap, poop, waddle, nudge, nuzzle, and cry. As we stayed on, laughing and pointing, the pushy ambitions of my chattering self kept insisting that I interrupt the boys' obvious enjoyment of the moment and say, "Okay, that's enough. Let's go on," but I stayed mindful and silent. "Wait. Wait. Wait," I thought between breaths. "Wait for the boys to be ready to leave." And they did finally say they were ready, but it was a good seven minutes after I would have left the comic penguin troupe had I been watching on my own.
On the rafters of the red panda house, some smart zoo designer inscribed Walt Whitman's words from a passage of "Leaves of Grass":
"How would love wash a dish? While standing at the kitchen sink, breathing love in and out of your heart, feeling outward to the moment's open edge, how does your body rub the soapy sponge across the surface of each plate?
How can you give your open heart-truth to your coworkers, even when you disagree with them? Should you smile, tell jokes, act efficient, touch them, or walk away and give them space? Day by day, practice unfolding love as your body's skillful offering, from your deep heart outward to the moment's open horizon.
Knowing the truth is fairly useless; feeling it is profound; living it makes all the difference."
I've been thinking about the soul of money because, as you know, it's tax time. Happily, our 2005 return is ready to mail, but once again, Mr. Chattering and I won't know what we're really owed; we're too busy with parenthood and spiritual development to itemize our home-office deductions. A third of our finished basement is consumed by a two-terminal workspace. And I know we're entitled to deduct a small percentage of our mortgage payment, a bit of our large phone and electric bills, office supply expenses, monthly Internet service, etc.
But we don't and haven't for years.
Do you think this points to a generosity of spirit, or a childish relationship with finances? The tax lapse is part of a pattern: I pay babysitters well, tip cab drivers a tad more than most people, and forget to ask for receipts when giving clothes and household items to Salvation Army. It's not that we can afford this largess, it's just that I'd actually rather leave our boy's outgrown bicycles on the sidewalk with a handwritten sign that says, "TAKE! FREE! IT'S YOUR LUCKY DAY!" than sell them on Craigslist. I feel like the universe has a financial ebb and flow. I try not to grasp or cling.
My sister, who itemizes for every business lunch and travel expense, says our relaxed manner with our tax deductions "is stupid! Why GIVE your money to the government?" she asks. It would be better, wouldn't it, to get the larger refund and donate it to an environmental group.
Anyway, tonight I tried to get my mind straight on this by reading a marvelous book called "Money, Money, Money: The Search for Wealth and the Pursuit of Happiness," a compilation of interviews with folks who have fresh perspectives on the almighty buck. Of particular interest: a riveting conversation between New Dimensions Radio co-founder Michael Toms and philosophy professor Jacob Needleman (definitely one of the loveliest men in the world). Their idea of making more our spending habits more "conscious" would, in the end, help my dear young Chatterings. I've noticed that one of our boys keeps his allowance money floating free in an open box, with bills and coins spilling out. If Mr. C. and I do not get a firmer grip on our purse strings, neither will he.
One last chattering thought: I sometimes appear to overspend to make a point, especially when it comes to food. When I buy additive-free groceries, I am saying to the merchants who control the supply: I honor these products and am willing to pay handsomely for them. In this way, I vote with my dollars and perhaps change the world.
How do you connect your spending habits to your spiritual beliefs?
posted by Chattering Mind @ 12:33 PM | Permalink |
"Spiritual development is basically an attempt to balance two opposing forces in human nature. We are two-natured beings. One in us moves toward God, and the other moves out toward the world. This is humanity's uniqueness, its glory, and its challenge. To find the force within ourselves that can balance and find the proper place between these two natures is, to my mind, real inner development."
From reader Pacific231: "Borg's "Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time" is essential reading. I could totally relate to his personal religious conundrum and found his book extremely helpful."
From reader Rebecca T: "I'm not a fan of Borg myself. It's not that I think he's horrible or digging his own pit in hell or anything, but I really need much more to hang my hat on that what is basically one man's reasoning. There's just nothing at all in the bible or accounts from that time to support the idea that the apostles believed anything less than that they had physically met the risen Jesus. I mean, if all they meant was that Jesus was alive in their hearts, why in the world would they have gone to their deaths proclaiming a physical resurrection?"
posted by Chattering Mind @ 12:24 AM | Permalink |
Do you want to eat healthier and raise kids with good eating habits, but lack new ideas as you stand at the health food store thinking, "I'm so tired of packing my kid's lunch, I can barely stand it"?
My heartfelt thanks go to Beliefnet's Spirituality Editor Valerie Reiss for alerting me to the most tantalizing, oddly captivating, award-winning vegan blog (destined no doubt to become a great book): Vegan Lunch Box!
Cook, knitter, and mother Jennifer McCann of Kennwick, Washington puts great care into every photo and description of the wildly varied, creative, and seasonally appropriate lunches she makes for her child. Read just a few of McCann's posts and you'll fall in love with this woman--a stay-at-home vegan mom with a lucky work-at-home husband and well-fed kid she calls "Schmoo."
P.S. The ultra-cool bento style lunchbox Jennifer repeatedly features can be found at laptoplunches.com. With this box, you don't have to pollute the world with plastic sandwich baggies. I'm ordering two for my young Chatterings today!
"Somehow the notion of putting specific requests to God strikes me as unseemly, if not absurd. I squirm when I hear trendy clergymen asking God to attend to our balance of payments, or to adjust the terms of trade more in accordance with the interests of under-developed countries, or to ensure, in a forthcoming general election, that the best man wins. Also, when old-style evangelicals, with, I am sure, utter sincerity, recount how in response to their prayers God made their businesses prosper, or brought them into contact with a particularly lucrative client. In all this field of our material well-being, individual or collective, I can never find anything to say to God except: Thy will be done. If it is true, as St. Paul tells us--and it surely is--that all things work together for good to them that love God, then all that is required of us is that we should love God, and in loving him, fall in with his purposes."
NOTE: I've been reading Muggeridge to my 91-year-old father lately since we both fondly remember the days when William F. Buckley regularly featured author/broadcaster Muggeridge on "Firing Line." Buckley once described Muggeridge as "perhaps the most eloquent English-speaking lay apostle of Christianity." I'd argue that Buckley's conversations with Muggeridge rank among his greatest contributions to public television.
"National boundaries are illusions. They are man made. So for instance, if a rainforest is cut down, we lose the lungs of our planet. And when the lungs are lost, the results are felt throughout the whole world."
Do you keep non-functioning electronics, hoping that some day you'll figure out how to responsibly trash them? As if in honor of spring cleaning, Salon has published a hugely helpful article by Elizabeth Grossman on how to recycle toxic trash. Some manufacturers will take back their appliances. The EPA and other groups can guide you toward proper disposal channels. Lots of great links here.
Easter is never problematic in terms of what I like to do: dye eggs, stage an Easter egg hunt, eat at least one chocolate bunny, enjoy the warmer weather, and wrestle once again--quietly and in my own way--with the notion of Christ's resurrection. Perhaps the thing preventing me from feeling fully religious (I'm more comfortable embracing the spiritual) is that I still see the resurrection as an idea. It's still one great story to me. Don't try to convert me. I see my life as a journey toward greater religious understanding. I'm happy with my pace.
Thirteen years ago Mr. Chattering and I attended "Historical Jesus," a seminar led by Oregon State University professor Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, a professor emertis at DePaul University. Their thoughts on the resurrection seemed so helpful at the time. Here are my best recollections:
* They speculated that as soon as Jesus was arrested, most of the disciples fled Jerusalem on foot.
* Then, by the time news of Jesus's death reached them, the disciples were twenty or thirty miles outside of town, and three days had passed.
* So obsessed were the disciples with the man Jesus, the teachings, the love they had for him, that they "experienced" the resurrection when they realized that though Jesus had suffered and died days earlier, he had been "alive" in them.
* The resurrection of Jesus then, was a living presence experienced internally by his closest friends.
Hmmmm...
When I enthusiastically paraphrased this lecture to a staunchly Roman Catholic friend, she quipped, "Well, if you believe that, you don't believe anything!"
Since that exchange, I've stayed open to anything that might help me process Christ's life story--not only with my mind, but with my heart too. This heart work has led me to connect with the contemplative traditions of the East. Today, I gravitate toward teachers who might help me understand what Christ called the Kingdom of Heaven, and how I might know that place on Earth.
I'm thinking that you too--whatever faith history you carry, even if you call yourself "spiritual but not religious"--will be interested in a more recent Borg address presented in March at Washington's National Cathedral. The subject: The last week of Christ's life. A regular contributor to Beliefnet.com, Borg's most recent book with Crossan is called "The Last Week".
"We don't need to overcomplicate things with all sorts of wandering discursive thoughts, superstitions, doubts, and over-thinking everything. Be strong and straightforward within, have strong intention, and develop firm faith, devotion and inner conviction. What you decide to do, you can do; just keep practicing and learning."
-- His Holiness the 12th Gyalwang Drukpa, head of the Drukpa School of Tibetan Buddhism in an interview with Lama Surya Das.
I'm not complaining. My father is staying in a pretty good hospital, but if I ran the zoo (a reference to that amazing Dr. Seuss book), man-oh-man, everything would be different. My ideal hospital would be a center for true renewal where colors, music, foods, and technicians would all contribute to the healing process. Could such a place be broadly appealing? I think so.
But questions arise, even as I fantasize: Would Enya's music piped into the elevator soothe or annoy patients? Would the chiropractors and osteopaths come to hate the orthopedic surgeons? Will the chef drive me out of business with huge bills for high-priced organic food? Where should the juice bar go--next to the gift shop or nearer the yoga/therapeutic movement studio? Could the nurses and orderlies be engaged in their own healing process, be sufficiently rested, not overweight? Would the Feng Shui-ed lobby seem too Asian-influenced for some people's tastes? Would the gals in the aromatherapy division get sufficient respect? Oh, and here's a good one: Could the doctors have real conversations with their patients? And could the pain management experts and the anesthesiologists not hammer every patient over the head with their big-gun narcotics?
Could the suffering associated with most illnesses be seen as a challenge, as well as an opportunity to change or grow?
At first glance, my dream hospital sounds like a chaotic place. But by the time you and I are elderly, gentle reader, there will be hospitals and healing centers struggling to balance all this good stuff. The town of Woodbury, Minnesota, for instance, boasts a "holistic hospital" that features complementary therapies. And in nearby Minneapolis, a cardiovascular surgeon from the Minneapolis Heart Institute recently conducted a study that shows heart surgery patients receiving alternative treatments, "including music, massage and guided imagery," experience "less pain and tension during recovery than patients who receive standard care."
We'll return to this subject. I'd love to know what you think. Obviously, AFFORDING all these "extras" at a time when many Americans lack the most rudimentary health care is the BIG issue. But perhaps, by the time many of us die (or even before it), nearly everyone will have access to fresh thinking on the subject of health and healing.
Thanks to all the readers who've shared their stories about caring for elderly or ailing family members. Kathryn, currently preparing to bid farewell to her dad, wrote this:
We have decided to obey his every request right now, including letting him eat foods that he should not be eating for salt reasons. But, it's that or seeing him starve to death. It's giving him hope, comfort, and peace at this time. We will know when God's time comes, but until then, we will resist death. My prayers are with you and your family, and with all families who are going through these times right now. Take courage and have faith.
Evelyn, who is nursing her ailing mom (and whose father passed away two years ago), writes:
You want your parents around but you don't want them to suffer any longer. Almost everyone goes through this eventually. It's now our turn. Hang in there.
Seamus can relate:
One saying that has helped me in ALL of my life transitions and spiritual growth is this: "You cannot lose your real treasure." It may feel like you've been separated from your father when the drugs and complications have blurred who he was to you, but you cannot lose him--the real him--even as we can never lose our true selves."
Dr. Amy D'Aprix, a reader caring for her 85-year-old father, agrees that the Internet is a place to find loving support. On her site, "The Caregivers' Coach," folks exchange wisdom related to caregiving challenges. Also, remember that Beliefnet.com has a caregivers' support group, and that Share the Care is a font of useful material on the subject.
posted by Chattering Mind @ 11:23 AM | Permalink |
"I don't know if the conversations I have with God are actually prayer, but I have faith that the conversation is enough. I believe in karma and trying to 'do the right thing.' I believe in Mother Nature and try to treat her with as much respect and admiration as possible. When I don't get that parking space close to the store because someone else zoomed in to catch it, I thank God that my legs are strong enough to walk from a far distance. When I'm running late, I have faith that by running late, I missed the accident up the road that I could have very well be involved in. It is the little things that keep me centered."
Do you hate hospitals? Almost everybody does. But today, my ten hours in a regional medical center tending to my ailing father weren't awful. I went in well-armed with bottled water, Arnica creams, essential oils, and yes, even Steven Halpern's angel music. And I didn't eat the hospital's airline-quality food, driving to a Ruby Tuesdays instead around noon where I purchased two generous plates of salad bar fixin's. "Back to my father's hospital room!" I announced to the bartender. "Oh, good luck!" he said.
I've found that when you share news with strangers, they are almost always there for you.
The world takes on a dreamy quality when someone dear to you is seriously ill. "Is he dying?" I asked myself, staring into dad's unshaven, sleeping face. No, not yet, came the answer. In a weird flash-forward, I imagined his body even thinner, skin sunken, taut, and translucent--the way it got for my mother at the end. He isn't at that stage yet, though in many ways, I know he longs for an end soon. "God wants you alive," I told him yesterday, "You've got more to do. We'll all here to help you figure out what's next."
Dad's occupational therapist told my brother and me about new pieces of elder-care equipment we must buy. I was proud of my architectural renderings of the first floor of dad's home, sketched on scrap paper to demonstrate to her how difficult it's going to be for him to move around. I caught dad staring at us from his wheelchair across the rehab unit's "gym," and knew he was troubled by all our proposed changes. He is worried we'll spend too much money on him. And of course we will, since we are baby boomers striving for perfection.
As the sun cast longer shadows, I read him an article from his favorite conservative periodical, "The Weekly Standard."
"Do you get the "Standard" at home?" he asked weakly, flat on the bed, with all the gravity of the Goldwater Republican that he is.
He thinks I don't consider "the other side," but I know "Weekly Standard" writers! So I stretched the truth and implied that I read the "Standard" all the time.
"You do?" Dad said, eyes widening, surprised.
"Well, I see it," I assured him, veering more towards the truth.
My father's head relaxed into his pillow. He seemed content, and he fell asleep soon afterwards.
Apparently, Moses is a common male first name these days, "ranking 472 out of 1219 for males of all ages in the 1990 U.S. Census," says the baby naming website ThinkBabyNames.com. It's much more mainstream than Apple (Paltrow's little girl, now two), so let's give them a break, shall we?
I'm generally not so keen on contacting the dead, and I'm bothered when TV psychics and mediums say things like, "I'm seeing a girl. Do you have a sister? A daughter? Oh, of course, your niece!" I essentially agree with Beliefnet.com writer Sarvananda Bluestone: The dead have a lot of work to do, and it's best to leave them alone.
But at the Omega "Being Fearless" conference, I sat in on a Q & A session with medium James Van Praagh, and he struck me as a wonderful friend, the sort of person you could talk to for hours. He wasn't cheesy at all. Here are some of his best lines from my notes.
"We all wash our physical bodies every day, but I think it's important to wash internally as well. When I shower in the morning, I visualize gold light coming down, going inside me, cleansing me internally, then I seal it all off with white light, and I'm ready for anything."
"Prayers are pearls of unconditional love."
"We all have lessons to learn from suffering."
"The easiest way to communicate with the dead is through dreams at night."
"If you want to talk to a lost love one too much, if you're saying, "Come to me, come to me, come to me"; if you're trying to control it, then you're blocking it. And the person won't come through. It's like pinching a garden hose."
"Hell is the mind."
"The surest way to be reincarnated with a group of people is to hate those people."
"We are on this earth to learn."
"We have the energy of love all around us, and yet we choose not to use it."
"We are receiving signs of the spirit every day, but we're just not paying attention."
Check out the April issue of Real Simple. It contains a marvelous article about Kate Munger's all-volunteer choir that sings for the terminally ill. "I don't feel like I've given up anything to do this. I get unbelievable riches, though not the kind you can hold in your hand," said Munger.
"I thought it would be a way to do somethig for others--a mitzvah [a kind act]," said one of Munger's choir members in the story, "but the more you spend time at bedsides, the more you realize what's important in life. I left an unfulfilling corporate job to go back to school and try something new. The choir was a catalyst for change."
posted by Chattering Mind @ 10:49 AM | Permalink |
I believe that there is a mysterious and graceful and miraculous Coherence stitched through this world. I believe that this life is an extraordinary gift, a blink of bright light between vast darknesses. I believe that the fingerprints of the Maker are everywhere: children, hawks, water. I believe that even sadness and tragedy and evil are part of that Mind we cannot comprehend but only thank, a Mind especially to be thanked, oddly, when it is most inscrutable. I believe that children are hilarious and brilliant mammals. I believe that everything is a prayer.
There's much to tell about last weekend's "Being Fearless" conference, organized by the increasingly influential Omega Institute (be sure to get a copy of the summer program catalog here). Within twenty hours, I saw Malcolm Gladwell, Caroline Myss, Wayne Dyer, James Van Praagh, Rev. Dr. James Forbes, and Elizabeth Lesser—with about 1600 other attendees. I missed the whole second day and I'm dying to know what comedian/telethoner Jerry Lewis said (anyone?).
Rev. Dr. James Forbes, Jr., pastor of New York City's Riverside Church, gave a rousing sermon in which he listed his strategies on how to overcome "the spirit of fear" that sometimes keeps us from being who we want to be. They include:
--Join a group: "You can't transform the world by yourself."
--Find the right project: "When you keep busy praising God, you don't have time to die."
--Find the right comfort/commitment ratio: "You must take care of yourself before you heal the world."
--Stay open to receiving God's love: "Perfect love casts out fear, and God loves you beyond consideration."
--Find occasions for unrestrained joy: "You can't stay frowned-up this way and bring in new order!"
posted by Chattering Mind @ 11:47 PM | Permalink |
What is it about teacher, intuitive, and mystic activist Carolyn Myss? Over the years, I've been sort of put off by her. But after hearing her Omega fearless speech, I'm utterly smitten. She's got this marvelous stand-up schtick, with her cropped hair and bright business-y suit. She reminds me of Lucille Ball after a couple of drinks, eyes narrowing for penetrating emphasis. Myss clearly gets a buzz off her innate spiritual essence. She is wise as well as hysterically funny.
Myss told us that she's too stressed to meditate, but has been helped by the realization that she's "living in a meditation." She prays like crazy, is grateful to the Roman Catholic template she was raised within, but is no fan of the Vatican.
Here are some nice lines from her presentation:
"Nothing requires as much courage as looking into your soul."
"The New Age spiritual movement gave us a wonderful playground to go into. It got us to enter the world behind our eye. But now it is middle-aged. And it needs to be reevaluated."
"We are mystical activists. We are being called upon to be active."
"Reason is the greatest obstacle. Reason stands at the door of your soul."
"We struggle to forgive because we try to do it through our ego. Forgiveness must be done through the soul."
"Great mystics changed the world with their souls. Their souls were a vessel for a source much greater than themselves."
"If you rely on the power of your soul, then you're in bliss."
"Go into your soul. Go into your task of prayer. Pass it over to God."
"Your soul is coming up. There is a place of service for you in this world."
Next week I'll tell you about James Van Praagh's presentation on the what happens to the soul after death!
Lord, make us instruments of your divine madness. Make us empty so we can know the fullness of your mysteries. Help us experience who we are not so we can become who we are. Help us be serious about the absurd, and absurd about the serious. Fill our bodies and minds with creative energy and inspired expression. Bring us contrary visions. We rejoice in being spiritual idiots, fools, and imbeciles completely devoted to your unattainable wisdom. For these things we pray. Amen.
"You know, according to Tibetan Black Hat Feng Shui, when a light fixture in the center of the house is broken, it can affect the residents' health," I said to our electrician while he installed a mission chandelier at home yesterday.
"You think so?" he asked, smiling.
"I don't know that it's so."
"Well, I KNOW it's not so!" he said. He's a successful guy who works big construction jobs.
Hmmm. Chattering Mind didn't argue. But I put faith in things that may not be verifiably—or reliably—effective. For me that's okay. Prayer, meditation, angels, homeopathy, Feng Shui, Reiki, acupuncture, Chinese herbal medicine, osteopathy, astrology, chakra work, earth devas, fairy sprites, and tarot and I Ching readings have all helped me at various times in my life.
I know it's important to test validity and confirm legitimacy. And I really want alternative practitioners to get certified and licensed so they can work in hospitals, be covered by medical insurance, go more mainstream, etc. But for me, even if certain parts of these notions are truer some times than they are others, I still believe—meaning, I hand off control and stay reverent, aware of the mystery. Does this mean I'm a susceptible to every passing alterna-breeze? Do I swing down the streets with a magical umbrella a la Mary Poppins? No. But it's a constant balancing act between my fact-finding journalist self and my surrendering spiritual self. Asking the questions yet being open to any possible answer. I am an open channel; life is weird, always miraculous.
How do you balance your chattering mind with your open spirit?
posted by Chattering Mind @ 12:42 PM | Permalink |
My substitute last week posted an item on why she was "over" astrology, and she got this thoughtful response from "Willsea."
"Astrology, taken from the broad view, can create metaphors that lead us back to the self. It's not about "accuracy" but the clues that we get about who we are. Just like the song on the radio, the vanity plate, or the church saying of the week on their sign, we get clues from the Infinite at just the right time to help direct our inward journey. And I am open to these clues everywhere, because the Beloved (a.k.a. God) is always speaking. And when God speaks, it's always exactly what I need to hear."
posted by Chattering Mind @ 12:13 PM | Permalink |
I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge-- That myth is more potent than history. I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts-- That hope always triumphs over experience-- That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.
Now, who am I to stir you up? Is it my job to give you more chattering thoughts? Well, I felt I needed to alert you to a new cell phone/brain tumor study. It's not definitive. But it's not good news. The study's lead researcher said that people who spend 2,000-plus hours on their phone increase their risk of malignant brain tumor by 240 percent. Hands-free devices cut the risk, he told Reuters.
I pass this on because I know in my heart (and my more energetically-sensitive friends agree!) that it can't be good to let a cell phone become your primary connection to the outside world without a hands-free ear piece.
To see how your particular phone fares in terms of RF (radiofrequency) emission, check out these helpful CNET lists.
I forced myself to watch (for you) the online trailer to the upcoming film about United's Flight 93, the flight where passengers bravely disrupted the hijacker's 9/11 plot to destroy the White House. It's being billed as an "unflinching drama" made by "acclaimed filmmaker" Paul Greengrass (who directed "Bloody Sunday," and "The Bourne Supremacy"), but I don't see how this endeavor, even if it sincerely pays homage to the heroic passengers, is going to fly.
I'm thinking that while our senses might be titillated by the idea of the movie, our souls will not tolerate it. My prediction: Large numbers of people will refuse to see this film when it opens April 28th, but DVD sales this summer will be more robust.
What's your guess?
posted by Chattering Mind @ 12:54 PM | Permalink |
Oh my G_d! The first time I tasted horseradish on a matzoh with haroset (chopped apples, dates, raisins, and nuts with a dash of red wine), I thought I'd died and gone to a very different heaven. "Can we eat this all year?" I kept asking the young, Jewish Mr. Chattering. I was imagining it served on toast points or in endive as an hors d'oeuvres à la Martha Stewart.
Here's Mr. Chattering's family Haggadah, skillfully cobbled together by his mother Sandra from various sources.
posted by Chattering Mind @ 12:36 PM | Permalink |
Have you noticed the songs of the birds returning to your neighborhood? I’m always amazed at how they spring into song the moment the weather warms. Our parakeet, who recently died, was a marathon warbler. Three years ago, we bred him with a cute female by giving the smitten pair a bigger cage and wood nesting box (unlike human beings, hens generally won't lay until they have a warm, safe place). The experience of watching two birds have babies was one of our best as a family. The male sang every minute his mate was warming those eggs. He contained and comforted her with his song. We still talk about this.
So I was all ears when I reached the following passage of an interview with Peter Kingsley, author of "In the Dark Places of Wisdom," and "Reality," featured in the Spring issue of the fab quarterly "Parabola."
"The famous mystic Rudolph Steiner has said that for the agricultural process to happen, for seeds and plants and trees to grow, birdsong is absolutely essential. This is a beautiful truth that very few people know. But we also need to take what he said one stage further, because birds call and sing not only to quicken the plants, they also call to awaken the human seed that we are. They are actually singing for our sake as well. If we can start to listen to them, really listen, they will draw us into this greater consciousness I have been talking about. They will be our teachers, because outer nature is able to point us to inner nature."
I suggest checking out the whole interview if you get a chance.
Those of you reading this blog Tuesday evening will appreciate that tomorrow, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 a.m., the time and date will be
01:02:03 04/05/06
That won't ever happen again.
Thanks so much to Rev. Vic Fuhrman, interfaith minister, wedding officiant, and Reiki master for notifying me!
My fourth-grade son is required to write a 600-word biography of the Portuguese navigator Esteban Gomez, a man known for establishing that there was no easy trade route to China through the New World, around 1524. Because the young Chattering can't type and because I'm a little irritated with his school for not teaching him, I am typing Gomez's story as my son spins around in an office chair while dictating.
But here's my take: Gomez had such a dysfunctional relationship with the more famous, formidable explorer Ferdinand Magellan (Daddy transference, most likely) that his story leaps off the page as a parable in how not to behave. Always fuming for not getting promoted, Gomez navigated--but didn't command--one ship of the five in Magellan's fleet. After being reprimanded for criticizing the boss, Gomez inspired other men to mutiny, then seized control of his ship and returned to Spain, where he was incarcerated. Once out of jail, Gomez charmed the emperor into letting him sail west again. When he reached what’s now America, he cruised up and down the waters of our east coast, only going far north enough to discover that the riches of China weren't near.
Henry Hudson, by comparison, is the Hudson River's namesake because he simply explored Manhattan's river. Gomez, by comparison, was a generalist, always acting for himself, and has nothing else of consequence attached to his memory--except maybe my son's paper, which thus far, reads rather nicely.
Can't we also see ourselves in the furtive, ambitious Señor Gomez? Last week, I came home depressed, thinking that my Chattering Mind blog was going nowhere. Where's the book? There's no money in this. And so forth. I was sinking into Gomez Country....
Today, I'm so pleased to have this lovely outlet, this opportunity to speak and perhaps even help people. Some days I feel I'm writing in the dark. Other days, I know I'm seeing beautiful New World territory.
I've seen a realm I knew existed but hadn’t visited before. It's a world in which you say to a Delta ticket agent: "My 91-year-old father is terribly ill, and I can't spontaneously pay $1,200 for every plane ticket." It's a world in which pastors, hospital social workers, well-appointed ladies granting tours to managed care communities, and agencies that employ sitters for the aging all intersect. It's a world in which you and your siblings try to convey to new physicians, "No, this is not the way he always is." It's a time when you stare into the face of your disoriented dad and still see his love, gratitude, and ability to tell a great joke.
My father had double pneumonia in January, then fell backwards down our back steps, collapsing his L-1 spinal disc. He is now in constant pain and coping with congestive heart failure. He's gone from functioning well as a town father and local newspaper columnist to seeming ancient. The question becomes: Do we eliminate his pain while monitoring his sometimes bizarre reactions to narcotics, or do we compromise his physical comfort so he seems like the dad we all know?
Interestingly, in addition to my own siblings and friends, the Internet has comforted me. So many other people are also pondering these questions, posting stories, exchanging stray bits of experience and wisdom. Experts in pain management have emailed me promptly, hotline hugs have been dispensed at no charge. The blessings in all of this have come in the form of a loving virtual community. I am incredibly sad. And yet, I feel blessed.
It was great to see Mr. Chattering and the kids again. But while I was gone my children acquired new friends--thriving head lice. Apparently, our school has become infested.
Two hours into my homecoming, I was combing Pantene cream rinse through each tangled, fine-haired Chattering head. With the younger, I tried to make the hunt for vermin seem like a fun science experiment: "Oh cool! Look at this guy's little legs!"
Once again, the Internet came to my aid. You can treat head lice without harsh chemicals. You just have to comb and comb like crazy. And then comb and comb again after a few days, and then a week after that. I found good advice here about using mayonnaise as a lice-loosener. And here's a product I've ordered to keep on hand. Our drug store stocks Lice Free, a "homeopathic" agent that I’ve found effective.
Sadly, for me head lice are forever linked to the days of post-9/11 grief, when the younger Chattering got lice from his kindergarten class. I had wild, recurring dreams in which voices said, "They'll come back. They'll come back," and I couldn't determine if they were speaking of bugs or terrorists. In any case, the two are forever entwined in my mind. And this most recent case comes right behind all the stress and worry about my father.
I was getting through it, though. I was outwardly calm. But then yesterday, some paper jammed in our laser printer, and I found myself frantic, perspiring, cursing out all electronic equipment. It was only as I pinched at the printer's spool with a pair of tweezers that I started to sob. After a moment, I crept upstairs to recline on the couch and listen to Robert Gass's "Chant: Spirit in Sound" CD.
Did you catch actor Hal Holbrook (in the guise of a hospital patient) tell Tony Soprano last night that "We are all connected. We are all one"? Later in the program, the nation's favorite gangster confesses that he's thinking we are all part of "something bigger." Finally, at episode's close, Tony stares up into the trees of his own backyard and seems to hear wind chimes.
He's back from the land of the dead. Will he find a better way to make a buck?
posted by Chattering Mind @ 12:22 PM | Permalink |
Chattering Mind is a blog on motherhood, aging, health and healing, yoga, whole foods, spiritual music, meditation, as well as the struggle to manage time and clutter.
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