Thoughts for Tonight

April 29th, 2015

"Love is that which enables choice.

 Love is always stronger than fear. 

Always choose on the basis of Love."  

                                                                                (F. Landry) 

...and it begins with honest love and respect of self. There is where the gentleness toward all else is born. We can not hate ourselves and pretend love, complete, for others...I don't think. Knowing our failures and foibles, the achievement of self-love teaches us love for all else, as we can then understand that nothing is perfect, and our love going out is not dependent on others' perfect behaviour. Love of the imperfect, especially that which lies within us (which we know so well, and impotently lament without avail) is a key to deep understanding of the universal condition of  l-i-f-e. 

I will struggle with it for the rest of the days I am granted, but I will NOT stop plodding...working...yearning, and practicing healthy actions. It is the only way to have a dignified life, one that demonstrates  respect for what is real and true. To die a whining, insecure jellyfish is the biggest disrespect for all the posibilities, chances, and opportunities that we -- every one of us -- are given. FORWARD. You can not hate youself into self love,  and, as my guru would say, very tenderly, "Stop it." 

Love to all today, Joana

Focus -- elusive quality in today's craziness.

FOCUS

So, after writing about "Type-A" personalities, a friend brought up the idea of focus, something that I believe becomes a challenge for many of us -- ill or not. Thanks, Donna, for reminding me of this.

Focus -- it's something that has been very compromised in my life by narcotics, depression, and plain old illness. I am trying to return to a more linear approach to life -- something that has never been quite "me." A long time ago, I was taught a method of focused mindfulness that works well, when you do it.

It consists of simply telling yourself, as you are doing things, "I am doing this now. I am washing my hands. I am sweeping the floor. I am writing this post." As you do it, you are "in" it because you are also dedicating your language to it. You can say anything you want about your "task," as long as you are talking (thinking) about it with these descriptive sentences. "The water is hot. This soap smells like lavender." And so on.

One of our "productive society's" tendencies tends to be to do one thing while thinking of another, or of several other things. In truth, it renders the task at hand one done without respectful attention. It lends itself to error, and jobs not attentively and well-done. We are constantly pressing ourselves to be "multi-taskers," and when this multi-tasking is not controlled by a perfectly together, healthy Type-A persona, it leads to fragmentation and scattering of the mind.

At least this is true for me. "Mindfulness" practice is wonderful, and I am getting to know it all over again. There are tomes and tomes out there about this, as it has now become quite a popular cultural topic in the States. (Currently, for example, I am reading a book on mindfulness and chronic pain.)

My husband is the most linear person whom I have *ever* met. I used to think that it was not as efficient or "quick" as I was. It somehow seemed plodding when I compared it to my flying around doing a million things. I now, after many, many years, see that he gets many more things done than I, and they are always done with care and attention. If he is driving, he is driving. If he is reading, he is reading. If he is cooking, he is cooking. He enjoys the well-deserved reputation of a man whose work is always quality and who *gets the job done right.*

Another things that his mindful, linear "way" gives him is a communication mode that is wonderful -- he is completely PRESENT. He doesn't go off on jags of thought, he doesn't fly off the subject, he solidly listens, with complete attention, He knows what I have said, and is respectfully thought of, and responded to. Now me? Ha. I am all over the place. One thing I say relates to another, and *that* to yet another...and conversation is like a big tree with a million branches...fun? Perhaps? Interesting? Perhaps...but attentive to the theme at hand? No. My conversation is frequently a flight through the gigantic tree of a million branches and turns. Some people are driven crazy by my "horses bursting forth."

I have been working on this, and it has been very interesting to discover the ways that society, and I, have formed this personality of inefficiency, in the name of multi-tasking. It has been very intriguing to catch myself and to effect changes in myself at almost 60 years old. Very intriguing to observe my ways. To *gently* observe them. "Gently" is an operative word. This is not a personal growth efficiency competition any more. It is a serious, calm look. A look at my ways, my unquestioned modes that no longer serve me well.

Granted, as young Mothers, and in other positions of life, multitasking is the name of the game. Nevertheless, I am not a Mother, and I have no need to be a multi-tasker. It is simply a product of a society that presses the trait (confusing it with efficiency), and my personality, which is hyper and naturally energetic and nervous. It has not been a gift, and as the years of illness and heart-struggles have endured, this "multi-tasking" has detracted from both my quality of life and from the task at hand, which is commonly left unfinished, along with several other unfinished tasks.

You have no idea the quantity of *started* projects I have looming around me, and the scarcity of finished projects present. And the result of that is the old self- punishment -- "You are a flake now, Joana, you can't do *anything!* You are a loser."

Yes, such a help. Again, "gentle" is an important word in this whirlwind of self-re-description. Becoming something else requires friendliness toward ourselves. As someone recently said — something that I love and will adopt — “You can’t hate yourself into self-love. “ Simple but spot-on. 

I am typing this post now. I am about to drink my tea. I am signing off now. I am sending my love. Tee hee.

Sending Love, Joana

Don't Say This to a Bereaved Parent ...Please!

Don't Say this to a Bereaved Parent:

Most of you know of my passion in my work with bereaved parents. Today, I had the opportunity to have a conversation with a bereaved Mother, and we were addressing the age-old phrase that is a really bad one to say to bereaved parents:

"I could *never* go through that! I would just die if I lost my child."

And

"You're so strong. I could never do it."

These two phrases, and their variations suggesting the same are a really unhelpful, and can commonly even hurt.

A bereaved parent can not help but feel this reaction: "Does this mean that you love your child more than I love mine? Does it mean that my grief doesn't match the loss? Does it mean that you are more sensitive than I? Does it mean that my grief should be more if my love is as strong as yours?"

I think that most bereaved parents clearly understand that people say things that hurt NOT out of *any* maliciousness or obnoxious bent, but because they are -- as is the majority of the nation -- completely unfamiliar with the territory of death and are at a clumsy loss for words. In my extensive work with bereaved parents, I have not met bereaved parents who did not understand this.

As this on-line conversation proceeded, someone suggested that people who are hurting sometimes have emotional reactions to others' comments and actions. And that it helps to remember that the people making the unhelpful comments are, for the most part, trying their best to be nice.

I understand this.

However, irrespective of whether or not the bereaved parent's "hurt reaction" is disproportionate to the utterance or not -- these comments *do* hurt, and that hurt is very real. It is not to be denied and altered for the comfort of those who are not able to step into her/his experience.

They do not have to be snappy, or mean (*nobody* does), but they should not have top feel obligated to accept everything that people say, without being able to answer with a kind yet pointed answer. To the comment, "Oh I would die if I lost *my* child!" I thought of the response: "You're right. I *can't* do this. It is living death. You are right. It *is* impossible. And you're right. I do want to die. Bu that would not be my son's wish. So in his honor, I choose the most difficult thing. Living."

I have no judgement toward the masses of people who say these clumsy, un-helpful things. It is nobody's fault that as a by-product of the cultural values that we have adopted, we can not stand the presence of death in our lives, in our friends, in our conversations. We have been *taught* to stay the hell away. We have been *taught* to try to make it all better, but not how to be *present* with it in any significant way.

It has done us all a great disservice, as ALL of us WILL suffer deep losses through death, and there are so many ways to approach it that we lose out on, due to a society that shoves it under the rug as soon as the service is over and the mess cleaned up.

Bereaved parents so frequently *get the shaft.* I do not completely blame those o' the clumsy comments, I don't judge. I do however, feel passionate about promoting education around death, *conversation* about it, and talk of the unusual, rare blessings that death offers the bereaved --*and* those who are not personally bereaved-- through life's guaranteed pain.

Bereaved parents, suffering the most supreme pain of all life (ask any parent, they would much prefer to be tortured, or go to war, over losing a child, and would do it in a heartbeat), is something that should be afforded the supreme response...interest, care, compassion, and the two most important elements: presence and listening. Most people don't want to hear it. And many will even say so..."Oh, let's not talk about such sad things..." or "What can I do to make you feel better!?" They want to fix it or escape.

Bereaved parents are shut down in so many ways. They are made to feel inadequate for not "bouncing back." They are even chided by others who advise them that they "need to get over it." They are avoided, they lose friends, and they are sometimes accused of "not even trying to be better."

Bereaved parents are my martyrs and heroes, and that is where my loyalties lie.

When we run, we always get caught.

Love to all tonight, Joana

"Type-A" -- something to be proud of?

Type-A -- something to be proud of?

I am in a pissy mood today. I have finally gone into POST acute withdrawals, after four+ months of acute. Yes, it does happen to people. I am on the exaggerated end of the "withdrawal-o-meter," because of my age (almost 60, my health stuff, and the types and taking-duration of medicines that I was on). I finally, *thank God!* turned a corner awhile back, but am still pretty ill. Just not torture now, which in all seriousness, it had been. I have not been as ill since I was in my second cancer treatment, and that says a lot. I am extremely weak. 

I am doing that thing that so many of us who deal with chronic illness do -- feeling exasperated and angry with myself for all of the things that I am not getting done. And there is SO much to do... Every day, I see it build up more. As somebody who was a very "type-A" go-getter personality, this is very, very trying for me.

I also muse over how many of us who have these enduring illnesses self-describe as "Type-A" people. I know that it may sound odd to many but I am inclined to say that the touted "Type-A" personality is one that does more harm to us than we would like to think. Type-A's are driven...almost to the point of obsession with being "productive." Type-A personalities rarely are contemplators and meditators. Type-A people tend not to allow themselves to rest, and take pride in that sacrificial drive. Type-A people tend to ring with that high tension that one can feel as soon as they are near.

Type-A people also seem to thrive on the idea that they are considered so important to the functioning of "x" thing (be that a work project, family running smoothly, etc.). "I am Type-A, and people seek me out for that organized, super-proficient capacity." Type-A people are almost always over scheduled, over worked and over depended on. They feel a sense of pride over this. And it slowly sucks the life from them. 

Yep, Type-A's get things done, but they also commonly become ill with stress-related conditions. They typically have digestive problems, blood pressure problems, stress itself that is high, and little capacity to calm down and *accept.* Many have depression issues. Lots are getting drinks after work. Many have troubles enjoying the simple things of everyday life, because they so often have "just this one more thing I have to get done." Many have limited communication and time for their families, and the things in life that nourish the soul. In fact, Type-A personalities rarely have time for the soul and spirit.

Type-A -- is this a position that we truly *want* to adopt? Certainly it has been one that employers enjoy and encourage (duh). Certainly, when the words "Type-A" are uttered, people imagine things getting efficiently *done* by efficient, organized, productive people. 

The Type-A personality has a very ugly sides. I am not sure that I am so proud at having been this type for my entire life. It led to self-recrimination when I was not "productive," and did not lend itself to the more subtle beauties of quiet reflection and non-judgmental *acceptance* of the fact that we are not always going to be as productive, or as "together" and efficient as we would like to think. There is so much to discover outside the boundaries of "efficiency."

The brain-addling activity of multi-tasking; being a "multi-tasker" is another self-description touted by many, and encouraged by employers...but I have come to seriously believe that multitasking has extensively fragmented our ability for concentration, memory, communication, and courtesy. How many times do we switch the page as soon as another little things strikes our fancy? How many times do we allow ourselves to do ONE THING, with dedication and true attention? How often do we live with that little buzz of distraction in our ears...where to click next...whose post to read...what little thing to react to...?I know that I am working on consolidation my concentration and dedication to the task-at-hand, as my concentration, DUE to multitasking, has greatly suffered.

I read less than I used to. Hell, if I am posting on FaceBook (or doing something else less observable) day and night, it is clear that I am not doing a lot of dedicated reading. I deeply lament this. 

Now that I have become disabled, my old "get-it-done" personality has done nothing but hurt me. I am learning, from the beginning step, to be a different person. Someone who does what is at hand, someone who is trying not to synonymize illness and rest with slovenly, unworthy being. 

Type-A has been a disservice to me. 

Has anybody else thought about this?

I need to rest and not be angry at myself for doing so.

Sad is good.

Morning rush of writing.

Hope you enjoy it.

SAD IS GOOD

I am extremely moved by Eastern thought, and love one of the principles of many approaches that sees suffering as a crucially important element in -- if not the definition of -- life.

In our society, we desperately try to deny it. "Move on!" "Screw you!" I'm out of here!" "I don't *need* this." "Be happy! Be happy! Be happy!” Rise above it! It rings from the hollows of our cells...every magazine shouts ways to be happy! Every TV show reminds us that a pill will take away our chemical imbalances, because God forbid one feel a sadness tat lasts more than 48 hours! Every friend wants us to “be happy!” We strive after the elusive state constantly, and we are perplexed when we simply do not reach that blissful state with some lasting stability. Problems throw us off track, and life’s guaranteed unfairness will topple the smiley-face. Many people say, “I have never felt 'happy' as others seem to.”  Or all too commonly,  they feel self-recrimination for not being smiling hap-hap-happy puppets. I hear many people, people who have good reasons for feeling very sad, say, in embarrassment, "I just can't sake it...what is *wrong* with me (nothing)!?" Society tries its best to pull us, as soon as possible, from our sadness and heartbreaks. “Let’s not talk about *that,” people suggest, meaning well, and promoting the illusion of attainable happiness that can *replace* sadness.

It can not. In our extraordinary spectrum of spiritual and emotional potential there is a reason and a truth to the dark side of it. To deny the days of sadness is to deny the reality of life, and the depth of our own vast emotional breadth. 

To run from heartbreak is to deny an entire side of your makeup. 

I am not referring to longstanding, profound depression, from which I have also suffered. I am talking about the dirt of everyday living. The messy, risky, emotional minefield of LIFE. 

Our society is so paranoically  bent on getting (back?) to "happy" that people praise us for our "resilience (I detest the use of this word to justify and tout people’s stuffing and hiding their pain, especially when used in describing children)" and “come-back," and encourage us to forget! Come out! Have a good time! Screw them! Get over it! Move on! Cheer up! Smile!

We are encouraged, constantly, to *not* be sad, to *not* be heartbroken, to *not* be discouraged, to not be grieving. We are even accuse of being self-sorry, or of *wanting* to be sad. How absurd! I do not want to be sad...I do not want to stay sad, it it is a guaranteed part of what life is. 

There is a place, and a honor due to our negative feelings. There is a life to our heartbreak, and it will bloom in myriad ways if we stubbornly deny its existence, or play to “get over it” sooner than it is truly “over.” It WILL be present in us, in uncontrolled, inefficient, un-beneficial ways, if we shove it down. 

We blame ourselves for feeling bad,we blame ourselves for not popping back and doing all of the superficial remedies that people rush to (going to the gym or the bar; doing “fun” rings with friends; etc. etc.). We chastise ourselves for not popping to the call and making that smiley-face and acting happy. We are so cruel to ourselves. 

Frankly, when I am heartbroken, it is very difficult for me to do these "happy" things with a true spirit. I am false and I am lying when I subscribe to others insistence of “happiness” and choke forth a jovial countenance. The door shuts, and I dive to darkness once more. I am ashamed of my heartbreak. I have been taught to be so, both by family and by society, which is bent, to a point of madness, on denying its existence. I mean, it’s OK to feel sad for a short time, but if your pain lingers, that is cause for the average Joe’s worry and distaste. 

I am NOT talking about being a mopey-joe.  I find nothing more repugnant than the self-sorry person whose martyrdom drips like a sticky, immobilizing syrup. I am talking about *honoring* our sad times, and allowing ourselves first, then others, to know —  that yes, we’re OK, but we are feeling sad. Period. No it is not the end of the world. We are not going to toss ourselves from the bridge nor slash our wrists, even though we feel that way. We are simply, and beautifully sorrowful. Nothing to “correct.” Nothing that we have to live up to. 

I know that while I have been down, I isolate, because I am ashamed of presenting a continuous presentation of sadness. People judge.  I keep it to myself. 

And I love the friends who simply accept that I have days that feel like hell. Like shit. Those who sympathize and also support. It does not take a lot to make me smile and laugh. I love so many things about life that even when heartbroken, I look out my window at the birds that I feed every day, I hug my little fat doggie, and I drink tea that tastes delicious. In the darkness there are smiles and pleasures. And it can live together. 

I was living in Spain, and had been offered a wonderful job in Barcelona, the city I really wanted to live in, when my Dad called me and told me that he’d been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. That was that. I moved home, and into his house, and helped care for him until he died. Shortly after Dad died, I returned to work, a teaching job that I had in Costa Mesa (Orange County, Southern CA).

I will never, ever forget something that happened that impressed me in a way I will always, always love. Among the many, almost creepily constant expressions (by very kind, well-meaning people) of “Oh, I am so sorry,” and “He is no longer in pain,” I was bowled over, completely, and so unexpectedly comforted when Linda, a robust, beautiful colleague, said, “It is *shit,* isn’t it. My parents died over twenty years ago and I still hurt for them every day.” 

Her lovely, lovely understanding, her blunt proclamation of THE TRUTH…was so welcome to me that it somehow effected a shift in my heart that very night. I will never, ever forget that moment of sadness-acknowlegement. 

People are highly uncomfortable with anything but “happy.” As a grief counselor, I see the consequences of this societal madness…and if you have lost someone, about whom your heart is shattered, you know well of what I speak — there is NO PLACE for it in everyday life…people don’t want to know, they don’t want to “handle it,” they don’t know what to say or do, and they shut it down. There is no isolation as deep as that of profound grief in a world that does not acknowledge it, after the sympathy cards are sent and the services are over and cleaned up. You are on your own. And this is a heartbreak and alone-ness with acutely painful aspect. 

Pain, heartbreak, love lost, disillusion, meted unfairness, and disappointment *are staples of this human life.* There is no constant “happy,” even though so many would like to imagine it to be so. And, though “happy” is a good thing, the honorable PLACE that the negative emotions deserve and *function* in is also profoundly healing and above all, spirit deepening and compassion-building. A shattered heart can learn to be exquisitely sensitive and loving. A painful disillusion can be searched through and felt…toward a growing of an accepting attitude and grace toward life and importantly, toward ourselves. 

As someone whose heart hurts all too often, I am intrigued by what I believe to be true, though still practice hard, to do -- and that is acting on the concept of *approaching* pain, diving into the heartbreak, sleeping with the fear and hurt, and allowing it all to BE, without prescribed remedy, and PARTICULARLY WITHOUT self-judgment. In fact, the way through it is to give yourself credit for allowing the simple presence of pain to lie next to you, without judging yourself, without having to find that answer o-u-t.

At our most dark, we tend to see ourselves in negative terms also. You who know me know that it would be very easy for me to go on about this, but I must get going. The bottom line: self-negativity while we are down robs the experience of teaching and learning potential. It robs us of our natural possibility for deepening our spirits and hearts, and it robs us of our dignity. We need to stop that, me first. 

Love, and happy Sunday to all, Joana