Writing for Wellness Chapter Two

I'm glad I'm prefacing these with a note that these are rough drafts. This haibun is too vague and the haiku are not very good. But rough drafts are not about perfection and this is a good point of reference for future revision.

Without you, I would not understand the implication nor the full meanings of sacrifice and forgiveness. That which preachers propagate from the pulpit becomes words withered into meaningless metaphor when measured in stretch marks. After all, aren’t the gods supposed to lead by example, sacrifice and forgive to show us the way, their way? But you—you are merely human and no matter how deeply I cut my teeth into your heart with my selfish and foolish beliefs, you turned to me with compassion.

Because you had no
Insurance, you had your teeth
Pulled out one by one

* * *

For Christmas you filled
My tights and life with lavish
Generosity

* * *

Even when I fought
To pull away, you promised
Not to turn from me

Writing for Wellness Chapter One

I wrote the following in response to the exercise in Chapter One of Writing for Wellness by Julie Davey. This is a very rough draft (very very even) and I suppose I ought to apologize for the American haiku when it would be better for me to try to create one more traditional. I will try to do so when I revise. In the meantime, the rough draft in all its rough glory.

* * * * *

These apron ties that bind us grow stronger as life and experience continues. Now a new thread connects us. Two conditions. Similar experiences. We know the exhaustion of mindfulness as we measure each move we make, look to the horizon to assess the weather dreading anything inclement. We know the cost of going through the motions while weighed down with something incurable. Her neuropathy. My vertigo. Across the telephone we agree, say in empathy, “I know. I know. I know.”

* * *

these things that hold us
together are not
as lasting as love

* * *

could it be the times
I had benign lumps
my love went too far?

* * *

some things are unchanged
like how my hand in yours still
feels so much smaller

too small to hold on
when letting go becomes so
inevitable

What A Difference Two Years Make

Today I did a lovely walking meditation. I first spent 10 minutes in seated meditation and then followed that with 20 minutes of walking meditation, basically pacing, very slowly, the span of the great room. Romanov watched me for a while but then decided it was entirely too boring and moved to lie in the kitchen.

Contrary to some assumptions, walking slowly requires much more balance than walking naturally. In other words, my choosing to do this is a triumph over the vertigo. It takes concentration and mindfulness.

This is how I live even when I move “naturally,” always aware of the slight shifts in my balance and making adjustments accordingly. I used a cd that came along with a book I have on walking meditation. Two years ago when I received this book/dvd/cd combination, I read the book (devoured it, really) and watched the dvd. I listened to the cd but I did all of these things in my bed, unable to participate in it actively. Instead, I visualized myself, focused my intention upon the day when I would do the meditation as it is presented.

And today I listened to the seated meditation practice and then allowed myself to explore the first walking meditation. Listening to Anh-Huong Nguyen soft voice reminded me very much of the first time I heard Thich Nhat Hanh speak. The only word I could come up with to describe it was/is Peace. I followed her delicate guidance throughout the thirty minutes and when the time was done, I just let the silence, disturbed only by the sound of my various wind chimes, embrace me.

It is a lovely day for me. A gracious and gentle day. I feel so wonderful for doing something today that was impossible for me two years ago.

Below is a portion of the video included in the book—Thich Nhat Hanh leading a discussion on walking meditation. The dvd that comes with the book is longer but this will give you an idea of what it is I am describing.

The Power of Self-Talk

Today I looked at my resume again and noticed a mistake. I sat there, my jaw literally dropped. About once a month I update my resume in some manner—usually changing a few words here and there. I do the same thing with my cover letter and less than two weeks ago I was horrified to realize that there was an incomplete sentence in my cover letter.

Naturally, seeing this glaring error in my resume caused a flurry of fearful thoughts. How many jobs received this horrible resume from me? Why did I not notice this mistake previously? Should I reapply to those positions or just move forward with my now corrected resume and consider the previous jobs to which I applied a hopeless and lost cause?

Then came the more self-abusive questions. What is wrong with me? How could I not notice this mistake before? And after I already sent out that messed up cover letter, why am I continuing to sabotage myself? How could I be so stupid? So careless? How do I expect to get a job when I can’t even be professional enough to write something that isn’t a riddled with mistakes?

I didn’t indulge in this for more than a few instants.
I stopped. I breathed deeply. Then I replaced the thoughts with more gentle and compassionate words.

You are imperfect and made a mistake. That's okay. You are now aware of the mistakes and have already corrected them. You can update your resume on the various job search sites and do the same with your cover letter. There are other
jobs to which you can apply. Move forward. If you have the time, you can always go and reapply to the previous positions with the corrected copy of your resume and cover letter. The people who saw the incorrect ones would not recognize you if they passed you on the street so it won’t have far-reaching repercussions. Life goes on. So shall you.

I made a conscientious effort to say more positive things than I had negative. I chose to replace the self-abusive thoughts with more loving encouraging words. In essence, I said what I would to my children, reassuring them in the face of a seeming disaster in hopes of empowering them to move on.

No matter how often I remind myself to do so, I still need to be reminded to be as gentle with myself as I try to be with others. It’s good to see, I’m still open to learning and trying to learn from my mistakes.

The Fine Line Between Reason and Excuse

In keeping with the epiphanies Rob and I seem to be having with this new year, I’ve had yet another and this one has to do with my qigong practice. I wrote the other day about how I didn’t sink into the practice and just sort of gave up on it for the day. I tried again and pushed through the next day but the day after that the same thing happened. And, the truth is, even on the one day I finished it although I felt the energy (the chi) it never reached the full experience.

Today I chose not to give up nor push through. Instead, I allowed myself to feel the experience to see why I wasn’t sinking into the practice as I have before. It didn’t take long to feel the tension. It was in my feet because the vertigo was shifting my balance ever so slightly.

The tension in my feet was only the starting point, however, because as I kept adjusting for the vertigo, my legs and hips and lower back were also adjusting.

When I was finished I knew why my qigong practice felt so compromised. I talked to Rob about it and explained that I probably have to put the standing practice aside for now. I am going to listen through some of the cds I have to see which, if any, have seated qigong practices. (I have a dvd that has seated meditations and if necessary I will use that but I would prefer to use the cds that come along with the qigong course I have.)

What will I do if the kit does not have a seated qigong practice?

I will begin doing Reiki to myself on a daily basis.
I will do yoga each morning and perhaps a second practice in the evening.
I will do the things I know that help me live more comfortably with the vertigo and . . . .
. . .avoid the things that exacerbate it, to the best of my ability.

All of this got me to thinking about the differences between reasons and excuses. I have a reason not to exercise—vertigo. There is a list of things I simply cannot do because they push me beyond my physical limits. The idea of a long hike through the woods is lovely. The thought that I might have a full episode halfway along the trail is not so lovely. Rock climbing and/or bouldering are no longer a possibility and although I’d hoped to someday learn how to enjoy inline skating, unless the vertigo goes away completely I doubt I’ll have the opportunity in this life.

And that’s okay. These are all things I cannot do *with good reason.*

However, there is a tendency to let a reason become an excuse. Because I can’t do so many things I have never tried and some things I love doesn’t mean I can’t do something. It is so easy to let reason slip into an excuse.

When the vertigo first hit, I was literally slammed into my bed and stuck. Imagine my delight when my mother sent me a book Yoga in Bed. When I grew stronger and more able to maintain my balance, I graduated from my bed to a chair and used a dvd Sitting Fit: Easy and Effective Chair Yoga.

Now, nearly two years later and able to walk without a walker, I still can’t do a full tree pose. Instead, my “raised” foot remains near my ankle, sometimes so low that my toes are touching the floor slightly. Sometimes I have a good day and surprise myself by being able to raise my foot closer to my knee.

But two years ago when I couldn’t even stand without leaning on something, I didn’t avoid tree pose. Rather, I modified the pose. I created, although I’m sure I’m not the first to do this, the supine tree pose. In other words, instead of standing I lay on the ground and slowly moved into the pose just as though I were standing. Of course, I knew I was not reaping the full benefits of the pose because I did not have to work to maintain my balance. Still, as I lay there I visualized myself standing. Sometimes, I would even press my foot into the wall or a piece of furniture to add a physical stimuli reinforcing my visualization. I would feel myself standing on the floor and then slowly raise my one foot along my leg, draw my hands into prayer position, and breathe as I allowed myself to sink into the asana.

I have a reason why I can’t do tree pose. It is simply too easy for me to fall over and possibly hurt myself. But that reason cannot become an excuse.

I will continue to push my limits and hit many walls as I occasionally push myself too hard. This is the act of love I give to myself, a desire to not live within my limits but to expand them.

Maybe someday I’ll be standing in vrksasana and feel my raised foot move up to my thigh. I still hope and believe such things are possible. In the meantime, on a good day my foot will settle about halfway between my knee and my ankle and on a bad day you can find me lying on the floor somewhere.

Emotions in Motion

Lately, I keep reading about ways to allow time for “negative” emotions. No emotion is actually positive or negative but we try to avoid those feelings that are less welcome—like depression or anger or worry. It is easy to try to push these feelings away when we are feeling overwhelmed by them. But we know that avoiding them is not the answer. Dr. Carolyn Myss, in her book Why People Don’t Heal and How They Can, suggests setting aside some time to immerse one’s self in the emotion for a few hours or even a full day.

Of course, there are legitimate times for these emotions to arise and saturate our daily experience. It is natural and necessary to grieve and feel depressed when experiencing a loss and only someone with an abundant savings account would not feel some stress and anxiety when faced with a lay off.

To be honest, there are simply time when it is perhaps best to sit with the sadness, the anger, the fear rather than avoid it. Interestingly, everything I’ve read cautioned against sinking into a pity party. In other words, while giving permission to feel whatever it is you need to feel, there is a warning to not allow one’s self to feel too much of anything.

I wonder if it would not be best to say it is okay. It is okay to be so consumed by grief that this is all you can feel. It is okay if you are scared for your future when struggling to make financial ends meet in the face of unemployment. And when these “negative” emotions have a hold then it is also okay to set aside time to feel something “positive.”

When immersed in worry, it is okay to make time to feel relaxed. Take a soothing bath. Meditate. Listen to soothing music. Give yourself a massage.

When immersed in anger, it is okay to make time to feel peaceful. Go outside for a relaxing walk. Breathe deeply and slowly. Sip a cup of herbal tea.

When immersed in grief, it is okay to make time to feel joy. Play with puppies or kittens. Dance wildly. Sing. Paint. Watch a funny movie.

All of these things have a natural time limit and when the time is up, if you still need to feel anxiety or rage or sorrow that is okay too.

Test

All of 2008 I had requested that the admin look at my blog which was, for some erroneous reason, labeled as spam.

It looks like the annoying verification has actually been removed. If so, then you will read this post and wonder what it is about.

What you are looking at is evidence that tenacity is not pointless.