Inspired Possibility Blog

Life... What's the Point?

9/12/2024

Photo by Nathan Cowley: https://www.pexels.com/photo/shallow-focus-photography-of-man-wearing-red-polo-shirt-920036/

What is the point of this human life? We know how it’s going to end – 100% of the time for 100% of us, at least as far as I know. And when we face pain, challenge, or loss personally or feel discouraged about the state of the world, it can be easy to ask, “What are we doing? What’s the point? What’s this all about?”

I hope you didn’t start reading because you thought I’d have the answer, ‘cause, here’s the thing… I can’t have your answer. That question is one for each of us to ask, over and over, and explore and discover answers that ring true in our hearts and souls.

As I muddled around with what to write this week, knowing that something was brewing but also that what I had wasn’t feeling cohesive, Maggie Smith popped into my inbox and let me know that Mary Oliver’s birthday was this week! I found my thread! Mary Oliver, the great contemplative poet who has opened many hearts and minds brings it together for me.

One of her poems springs to mind immediately (though admittedly there are many that have touched me over the years).
“The Summer Day” with its compelling lines:

“Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”

Don’t these words address this inquiry head-on? Yes, everything and everyone dies at last and too soon. So, what is it we plan to do with the time we’ve been given? Why are you here?

I’ve come to the conclusion that my life isn’t about what happens in it, but how I respond to what happens. This isn’t just some simple teaching. It’s what I know to be true based on the life I’ve lived.
I’ve had some devastating losses in my life, and each one has taken its toll. Each one has brought me to my knees. And, somehow each one has also called me to keep on going.

One of my closest friends, Michael, died in my first year in college. He was 19. I sat in the funeral home for 3 days straight with my friends, trying to make sense of how this gentle being, who’d been living his dream in Hawaii, could be lying lifeless in a box.

My dad, who would not drive a foot until everyone’s seatbelt was safely secured, ironically was killed instantly in a random car accident while he was still in his prime, starting what he probably thought were the best years of his life with his new wife and new freedom. I was 21, finishing my senior year of college.

My mom, my best friend, died at age 83 (the age she had told me years before seemed like a good time to go) when I was just 39, raising 2 young boys who missed their Mima very much. I thought I’d curl up and disappear myself, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have time to let the pain of grief take me down which I suspect was both a gift and unfortunate.

My dear Mary Lally, my person, the Christine to my Meredith, died far too young just a few years ago – right before Nate was to be released from prison. I didn’t get to share that joy and hope with her, and I still miss being able to call her and laugh and cry about all that life has brought in that time. In the aftermath of her passing I had time and space to feel the loss of my friend, something the world doesn’t understand the devastation of, and it ripped me apart. It also revealed to me the grace that is also available even in grief. I wrote about that time in Good Grief, Gratitude, and Grace and Swimming in the Messy Stages of Grief.

Maybe all of these losses were the dress rehearsals for the most crushing loss of all – my beautiful son, Nate, died just a few months before his 30th birthday, just 6 months after being given his first real chance at living on his own. When the call came, a wail unlike any other came out of this mouth, over and over and over as I doubled over, trying to make sense of what I was being told. Numbness and shock settled in as we moved through the days and weeks, feeling little but pain and agony. Again, I said goodbye to a beautiful young man in a box, something I needed to see but never wanted to do. Somehow even then I knew I’d go on, but honestly there were times I didn’t want to. There may be times again. Sometimes the immensity of his absence lands like a sledgehammer on my heart.

I know some people don’t like the words lost and loss when we talk about death, but I use those words because these people have been lost to my day-to-day life and their absence is a loss that I feel deeply. It makes sense to me, and you’re free to use whatever terms make sense to you, of course.

After Nate left this earth, even though I saw him in the dramatic sunset that very evening and I felt his presence with me immediately, his absence in our life still hits me. There are still times I want to pick up the phone and talk with him or Mom or Mary, and the things we won’t get to talk about face-to-face hurt, leaving a big void in my world.

So, if we’re all going to die in the end, what’s the point of being here in this not-so-easy human reality? I’d love to hear your answers to this question – sharing our ideas is one way we learn and grow, which I do believe is the point of this Earth school.

We’re spiritual beings having a human experience, so we’re here to experience human – to feel all the feelings, and to grow as a soul. This is what makes sense to me. We’re here to live and to love, even after we’ve lost people who are so dear to us. We’re still here, and so we go on, trying to make sense of things that might never make sense, trying to find a purpose.

One thing I know for sure is that the lives of those gone before me matter, no matter what they looked like on the surface – these people touched lives and left a mark. Part of my purpose is to carry on the legacy and lessons I’ve learned from Nate, from Mary, from my mom. These lessons revolve around love and compassion and giving it freely. Michael and my dad showed me what it’s like to follow your dreams and listen to your heart, even if others don’t love that you are. Mary and my mom showed me what it meant to live, even when dealing with a disease that would ultimately take them out prematurely.

As I pondered this, “What’s it all about?” question, here’s some of what arose for me at this time in my life (I am quite sure our answers change over time):

The point of this life is to learn and grow so that we can serve others. The point is to be present for it, with it, to live it fully and to feel all the feelings that human brings with it, including joy and deep sadness, love and loss, and to not hold back on one for fear of the other. Life is here to be lived, and we are here to bring love, compassion, and healing to ourselves, to one another, and to our planet. That would be today’s answer, I think.

To show up for life. To embrace it. To be who we were born to be. To give what we have to give, and to keep asking the question, “What’s the point?” To listen and open our eyes, minds, and hearts to fresh insights, new understanding, different perspectives. To love. Above all else, to love and be loved. To challenge that which is not love.

I asked Love what she would add to these thoughts, and here’s what she offered:
Life is here to be lived, to breathe into your whole being. Life is within you and all around you – a mighty force to be honored. Life is a gift that was never promised and is never promised again in any moment. It is to be savored and cherished, for it is truly a precious, sacred journey of the soul. You are here to be and experience human, which includes pain. And, you are built to learn and grow from that pain so that you can deepen into love, connect more deeply as a soul, and open your heart even more. Let your heart be broken open.

In the times when you feel like you’re facing an unending battle, feeling lost, confused, alone, or scared it can be hard to see the point or to remember that things will shift. When you can’t see the way forward, maybe the point is simply to take that next breath… and then the next. I know people who have overcome dark, dark times and deep, deep hardships. They show me what’s possible when I find it hard to keep showing up.

And, so, I invite you to reflect and consider, what is the point of this life that is yours? How do you want to live it? How do you want to show up? Who do you want to be? Who can help you when times are tough? There are choices, even if life has been shitty.

As we honor Suicide Prevention Month and National Recovery Month, this feels like a relevant exploration. If you need help and don’t know where to turn, text or call 988 or chat https://chat.988lifeline.org/ . You don’t have to face your hard times alone.

Nate’s life was chaotic and tormented for much of it, but I am clear that his life mattered, and I’m touched by the way he lived – resiliently, passionately, loudly, creatively, curiously, joyfully, and painfully, and always with love.

May you know that you are loved.   May you know that you matter. May you be supported to make it to another day. Because, you’re here for a reason, and we need what you have to share. May you know laughter and beauty. May you cry your tears and scream your rage as you feel the impact of your losses and pain, as you fully embrace your humanity.

I’ll close with my favorite Mary Oliver poem that always, always, always moves me to tears:

The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Can you hear this new voice arising within you? What does it call you to?

We’re here to live. Of this I am certain.

What does it look like to you to live? What helps you keep going when times are hard?

If you’re in crisis, please call or text 988 – support is available.
There are also many resources that might support you on my Resource Page.
#RecoveryMonth
#RecoveryIsPossible
#SuicideAwareness
#SuicidePrevention
#MentalHealthMatters
#MentalHealthISHealth

Here's a playlist I created that I hope you enjoy - Life...

Please share your ideas and reflections with us - help us keep on going and remembering we're not in this alone! Much love to you as you keep on showing up.

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Different from Self-Care

8/20/2024

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Self-kindness… it’s what the Invitation to Change (a wonderful program for those who love someone who struggles with substance use) invites people to offer themselves every week (or better yet, every day). Every chapter in The Invitation to Change: A Short Guide ends with “What is a kindness I can allow myself this week?” and the caution to not jump over this critical consideration. But what does it really mean? Self-kindness is different from self-care, though certainly linked.

I told a friend recently how hard I had been on myself, how much I had been beating myself up, comparing myself to others and falling short, how harsh my words had been to my own ears. She listened with sadness and a a little confusion, saying, “But you’re really good at self-care. You do a lot of things for yourself.”

That’s when I knew there was an important distinction to make between self-care and self-kindness. Between what goes on above ground and below the surface, in the mind and heart.

She’s right. I do a lot of things for myself. I get myself to appointments that help keep this body going the best I can. I talk with my counselor regularly. And even healing practitioners, who do such a great job caring for others, also struggle with applying that same kindness to themselves.   Why? Because they’re human. And human is messy…

One shared with me her own invitation into self-care in the middle of the night, beginning with “I’m going to soften my jaw.” Yes. That is self-kindness. Simple, but not natural or it wouldn’t have required an intentional reminder. She invited me to think of 3 things I could do to be kind to myself during my session on her table. I began by softening my face – I hold SO much tension there. My grief lives there. The mere softening led me to letting my tears bubble up, come out, and flow, allowing the sobs that had been held for too long. In the safety of this alone time, I could do that, and it was kind to do so.

I don’t consciously hold it together, but subconsciously, I do. Too much. So much that it has to come out. It's kind to allow my grief space and expression. I was afraid I’d sob uncontrollably the whole time once I began. I found my fears were unwarranted. By simply allowing myself the chance to cry, to feel my sadness and grief without shying away from it, it could rise up, come out, and move through. I didn’t need to shove the pain down or push it away. With kindness and tenderness, I could allow it a much-needed release. After a few minutes, I found myself feeling more peaceful, calm and present, and I could breathe more deeply. For over an hour, my simple kindness to myself was to soften my face, feel my feelings, let my tears come, and breathe, riding all the waves that came without chiding myself, questioning why or where this came from, and simply allowing true expression.

So, how is self-kindness different from self-compassion and self-care?

Self-care is often thought of as the things you do – taking a bubble bath, exercising, eating right, getting enough sleep, or getting to appointments that help your well-being. BUT those same things done from a place of harshness, judgment, or obligation aren’t necessarily self-kindness. If, while you’re exercising, you’re berating your jiggly thighs or your inability to do as much as you think you should be able to, is that really self-care? If you’re forcing yourself to go to the gym because you know you should exercise, but you hate the gym, does that count? If you’re beating yourself up for needing so much sleep or for eating out when you were just too tired to cook, how kind is that? If you’re carrying out acts of self-care while also being really mean to yourself, how can you make peace with yourself and bring in more kindness and compassion?

I’ve learned that true self-care is deeper, more subtle than the things you’re doing on the surface and I’ve reframed it as being true to and gentle with yourself, one moment at a time. A friend recently shared to her true self-care as intending to be as tender as she can be with her whole life. We talked about tending the spirit being different than getting a pedicure. Oh yes, soul care, spirit care, tending our tender hearts is definitely different. Our hearts and souls need time and attention beyond what’s happening on the surface. They’re deeply affected by what’s going on within. Without mindful attention, I miss the inner battle between what I know to be realistic and true and the opportunity to stop the downward spiral into perfectionistic striving and feeling “not enough…”

Self-compassion is a way of being - an attitude with which we turn toward ourselves. According to Kristin Neff, self-compassion researcher and teacher, self-compassion has 3 elements: mindfulness, self-kindness, and common humanity. Self-compassion invites us to be mindful, present, and to acknowledge our feelings, as we remember that we’re not alone – that other people feel the way we feel at one time or another. Self-compassion invites us to be with ourselves with kindness rather than judgment, the way we would a beloved child or friend. It may involve forgiveness or gentle reassurance when we feel we’ve messed up or we’re falling short.

Self-kindness is one element of self-compassion that comes through in our words, thoughts, and actions toward ourselves. Are we being understanding, gentle, allowing the messy, imperfect experience that is the very essence of being human? Are we beating ourselves up or tearing ourselves down, harshly criticizing or judging, expecting more from ourselves than we would anyone else? Expecting perfection often gets in the way of self-kindness. I should know better! I can’t believe I did that! How could I forget? When we thrash ourselves with thoughts like this, we are not allowing our humanity. We are not taking into account things like burn-out, stress, lack of sleep, grief, or fear that get in the way of clear thinking.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I caught myself feeling and thinking, “I hate myself” one day. The harshness of this thought caught me by surprise. As much as I chastise myself with little slips of, “What an idiot… how could I?” hate isn’t an energy I often experience, and I didn’t really know where it came from. I certainly didn’t want to reinforce it, but I also didn’t want to shun it.

Self-kindness invited me to look at what it was all about, to see it came from my mind that told me I wasn’t doing enough compared to others. I felt burdened by too many mistakes in a short period of time. I didn’t understand how I’ve been grieving almost 17 months and was doing better earlier on, so I judged that something was very wrong with me.

In the early days and months after Nate’s death, I easily and genuinely extended myself “all the grace,” because I knew it wasn’t reasonable to expect much, or anything, of me. As time goes on, even though intellectually I know I’m still very early in this grief journey, my conditioning creeps in making me feel like I’ve fallen behind and urges me to play an impossible game of catch-up.

There’s a big difference between what I “know” and what I do. Intellectually I can say, “I just don’t have the capacity for XYZ…” but when XYZ don’t get done, the louder voice inside of me berates me, judges me for wasting another day when I had the time but not the energy or desire. People who care about me see what’s really needed and invite me to “just be.” To rest. To do nothing and let it be ok. I get it. I’ve been learning these ideas for decades and teaching them for over 10 years. And yet, I’m not sure I really know how to just be and truly feel at peace with myself in that space. How do you really do nothing? What does that look like?

Signs of self-unkindness:

Judgy, critical thoughts like “What is wrong with me? How could I have done that? How could I have forgotten this?” are prevalent in a world of not-so-kind.

Basing how ok I feel about myself upon whether the kitchen table is clear of last month’s mail (it wasn’t until a few minutes ago), or whether the hutch has been dusted (it most definitely has not been since Nate died), or if I’ve remembered to pay the bills on time (I didn’t this month), or if I’ve sent the cards I’ve been meaning to send for weeks (Nope! They’re sitting here in a pile waiting for me), or if I’ve worked on my book as much as I wanted to (you probably already guessed - I haven’t! Shocker!).

Pushing ourselves to be more or do more than is reasonable.

Burning the candle at both ends, exhausting ourselves trying to get all the things on the never-ending to-do list done.

Sacrificing our own well-being for what others need from us.

Overwhelming ourselves with worry.

These are some of the ways unkindness might show up. Take a moment to think about how it comes out for you.

Why is this self-kindness thing so hard?

Most of us have never been taught to be kind to ourselves, and instead learned to be “nice,” and “good,” generous, and thoughtful toward others. And those are all good things, but somehow our minds have twisted that to make us believe that others’ needs are more important than ours. That it’s selfish to even think about ourselves, much less be kind. That it’s narcissistic to focus on our needs.

Kindness ought to be extended simply because you are, not because of what youI’ve done or haven’t done. Kindness doesn’t need to be earned. But when we’re not being kind to myself, we forget all of that.

My counselor recently said to me, “We know ourselves through doing. We must learn to love  ourselves for simply being.” (or something like that – I hope you get the gist of it). Ugh! I know, I know, I know, and it’s still so hard to do in everyday life! I recognize that my upbringing taught me to value my productivity, my contribution, and so when I don’t have the energy to produce or contribute much, I struggle. I feel better when I’m bringing value and serving in a way that brings meaning.

Grief often leads me to fritter away a blessedly open day, which could be ok if I would be kind to myself about it. If I’d give myself permission to do nothing or to just putter and see where the day takes me, then maybe I could feel ok about it. But when I hold unreasonable, unspoken expectations that don’t align with the reality of my energy or mindset, there’s a huge risk that I’ll fall into a spiral of shame and shortcoming.

If you judge yourself by how much you do, what you accomplish, or how well you’re keeping up with the demands of life, even if you’re going through something really hard right now, even if you’re completely exhausted and drained, or swimming in grief or struggling with a loved one, how might you be a little gentler with yourself?

Ways to get to self-kindness:

Ask “What do I need in this moment?” Take the time to pause and tune in to respond with gentleness, kindness, and true care. I often forget to remember this key question that readily leads to self-kindness.

Liz Gilbert has a beautiful practice of conversing with Love (the giant force of unconditional Love that’s available to us all). Asking, “Love, what would you have me know?” and jotting down Love’s response can render surprisingly tender and supportive notes that reveal what we, in our humanness, might be missing.

Talk with someone when you’re struggling. Know who your safe people are - people who can go to this very vulnerable place with you. Who can hear you? On a very anxious day, I felt validated and supported when my husband listened and reflected back to me all that was weighing on me. I was definitely minimizing the list! It’s also helpful when a friend gently says, “Don’t talk to my friend that way!”

Put up post-it notes to remind yourself of who you really are or to take time for self-kindness – good to look at when you begin to swim in regret. Things that will make you smile or laugh. As a friend reflected, this is a way to shift your mindset and, “Drink in more love, rather than bathe in self-hatred.”

Pause, breathe, and put your hands on your heart - a simple gesture of self-compassion that lets you know you’re here for you. Listen to any guidance or insights that rise up or simply take the time to whisper softly or silently to yourself, “I’ve got you. I love you. We will get through this.” ❤️

What might self-kindness look like?

In essence, self-kindness begins by paying attention to how you’re treating yourself. Noticing if your inner dialogue is harsher than you’d use with anyone else. Being aware whether your choices are harmful or supportive to your well-being.

It can be as simple as choosing to soften your jaw or your face or your fists.

It could be opening up some white space on your calendar if you’re feeling particularly stretched or just need a little more time and space. If there’s something you’d like to reschedule, give yourself the grace to do so.

Making a pact with yourself that you’re not going to talk meanly about yourself – your body, your intelligence, your behaviors… whatever it is for you. A friend shared with me her conscious decision to catch herself in the act, and gently say, “Oh, I’m not doing that anymore.” Honestly, self-abuse doesn’t help and may just drive you more deeply into whatever it is you don’t want to be doing.

Bringing curiosity to yourself can free you from judgment – “I wonder what’s going on for me?” rather than immediately jumping to “What the heck is wrong with me?” Maybe nothing’s wrong. Create a little space to find out.

Asking for help and delegating what tasks you can when overwhelm is bearing down on you.

Instead of beating yourself up for not being able to hear, make an appointment with an audiologist to get things checked out and maybe getting some support!

Saying “no.” Stepping away from people or groups that drain your energy or bring you down.

Taking time for the people, activities, and practices that you know fill you up and nurture and nourish you well.

Taking a conscious social media break – there’s a lot brewing out there right now, folks! You have to digest everything you take in, so take some breaks.

Letting go of “should’s” and instead being true to what you know you want or need.

Saying “yes” to fun, to life, even if it doesn’t “make sense.” Some of my favorite moments come from spontaneity and ventures that might look ridiculous but bring me great joy – like traveling hours to see a band we love.

Letting go of unrealistic expectations and cutting yourself some slack when you don’t make the best choice or you’ve been a little judgy toward yourself – remember, you’re human. Let go of any worry of, “But aren’t I just letting myself off the hook? Don’t I need to hold myself accountable?” You can get back on track without beating yourself mercilessly for a slip. Accept the reality that slips will happen.

Why does it matter?

Because the kinder you are to yourself, the more loving and available you can be for life and the things and people that need you. Because you deserve your own loving care. Because life is stressful and self-kindness can help soothe that stress which contributes to better physical and mental health.

Here’s a beautiful song from the masterful Brandi Carlile that I invite you to play on repeat if you need to. I think I’m going to give it a go myself! Stay Gentle

What are your thoughts?

What gestures of self-kindness do you allow yourself? How do you know when you’re being unkind to you? What strategies do you have for coming back to self-kindness? Why does it matter to you? Please share so that we can build our reservoir full of ideas to turn to when the going gets rough. Life’s hard enough without us piling more on ourselves.

May you be peaceful. May you be happy. May you be kind – to yourself as well as to others.
May you know you are loved and soak in your worthiness for love all the way to your very core.

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Why CompassioNATE Care?

8/18/2024

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It occurred to me that although I’ve been on a mission that has made and distributed over 450 CompassioNate Care Bags since August 2023, I haven’t talked a lot about why this mission means so much to me. I’m assuming you can tell that issues of mental health, substance use, and homelessness are important to me and that compassion and kindness are my jam. But why?

Our Story - What We Didn't Know and What We've Learned
💕 Before our beautiful son, Nate, passed on March 29, 2023 just shy of his 30th birthday, we had gone through 14 years of pain, struggle, challenge, as a result of substance use and other serious mental health challenges on top of a lifetime of school struggles. Life for us, and particularly for Nate, was beyond hard. In those 14 years, despite our love and efforts to help him, there were too many times he struggled with homelessness in part because Tom and I didn’t know what we know now.

We didn’t understand that his behaviors were serving him in some way, even though there were so many negative consequences taking a toll on him and us. We didn’t know that ambivalence, especially when one is considering a gigantic change like recovery, is super normal and not a reflection of his desire to get better or how much he cared about himself or us. We didn’t know that there were ways to recover other than traditional treatment, 12 step programs, or abstinence – all things he had tried and “failed” at, giving him more things to beat himself up for. These are the lost “tough love years” which I grieve along with grieving his death.

Not only were we lacking in knowledge, understanding, and guidance, but because we hadn’t yet found the Invitation to Change and had never heard of peer support, recovery coaching, or harm reduction, we were misinformed about addiction and misguided about our role and ability to help. We hadn’t yet met other parents who had found healthy ways to be in relationship with their kid or professionals who knew effective ways for families to recover together. We believed we needed to let him (or make him) hit rock bottom, we shouldn’t help him for fear of enabling, and we were powerless.

Society’s prevailing messages convinced us that trying to detach was what love required of us. The chaos in our lives was painful, harmful, and ineffective for us all. Not only did tough love not help Nate’s recovery, it took away his family support and put him in survival mode which only contributed to his cycle of shame, use, more shame, and more use. It hacked away at our relationship, broke trust on both sides, and put Nate in situations where he experienced trauma we’ll never know about.

In the times when he couldn’t live with us and didn’t know where to turn, various people - friends, family, professionals, and strangers - stepped in as angels on earth, helping him make it one more hour, one more day, and possibly 11 more years than he might have had otherwise. I am forever grateful for the people who turned toward him in his times of despair, letting him know he wasn’t alone, that someone cared, and that he and his life mattered. I am deeply grateful for those who extended kindness, care, compassion, and a hand up when he felt desperately lost, and we didn’t know what to do.

Paying it Forward with Gratitude
💕 That love and those people fuel my intention with the beautiful bright CompassioNate Care Bags as one way to pay it forward. My husband, friends, and I load up these bags with niceties (pens, notebooks, and a little money) and necessities (resource numbers, personal care items, clothing, food, and drug testing strips and Naloxone) to spread this ripple of love to people, our community members, who may be feeling lost and alone. My friend, Chris Abert, from the NY Recovery Alliance, says, “Yours may be the last interaction a person has. Be kind.” Makes good sense to me.

Doing What We Can
💕 I’m embarrassed to admit the times I struggled with what to do when I saw a person sitting alongside a building or standing on a corner with a sign asking for help. One December, in NYC I saw a person bundled in dirty blankets, sitting on cardboard outside Macy’s with a sign declaring, “You don’t even see me.” Oooph! That hit my heart hard. They weren’t wrong – thousands of people looked away as they went on with their shopping and window-gazing.

Though I always felt a tug to help, I was afraid to offer money for fear they’d use it for drugs or alcohol. Why did I care? I’m not in charge of that. Maybe they’ll get a McDonald’s meal, a cup of coffee and a donut, and they’ll be a tad more comfortable for a little bit. Maybe they won’t, but I don’t have to assume the worst. Far too many times I’ve looked away and moved past someone in need, my heart breaking, feeling powerless and lamely excusing myself with, “You can’t help everyone.” No, I can’t help everyone, but I can do what I can.

Everyone is Someone's Child
💕 Knowing that any one of these people in need could be my son and remembering that they are someone’s child, I now look at people and see their humanity. Not too long after Nate died, I pulled off the highway and noticed a man staggering by the railing, looking as if he might fall over. I stopped, rolled down the window, held out my hand and offered a snack, some money, and a card with Nate’s picture, some encouraging messages and local resource numbers on it. I looked this man in the eye, and said, “This is for you. My son died. I don’t want that to happen to you. Here are some numbers and some things for you.” He asked my son’s name, I told him, and he kindly offered his prayers for us. I pulled away sobbing, heart breaking open, somehow knowing this was only the beginning.

A Collective Effort Honoring a Legacy of Love
💕 These care bags are created with so much generous support from others. They provide a chance to offer a little kindness, to see and reach out to our neighbors in need. One of the things I love most about Nate is that no matter how little he had or how hard he was struggling, he always thought of others, shared what he had, and did what he could for people who were struggling. This project keeps his legacy of love and caring alive. I am deeply grateful to the hundreds of people who have donated items, cash, time, and energy to help reach and serve people in need with over 450 bags that have been gifted in the Rochester area and beyond!

What it's been Like
💕 My friend, Cheri, who has jumped onboard with boundless passion, has so many beautiful stories to share – taking Leo for coffee, learning he’s an artist and buying his beautiful painting of a moon; seeing a woman collapsed on the sidewalk, pulling over, grabbing Narcan from a bag and reversing an overdose. Cheri regularly looks for people in need, asks them if they’re hungry, if they need water, and encourages them to call home as she hands them her phone. She gives hugs freely and meets people where they are, as they are. We don’t know how things play out, but we know in these moments a genuine heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul connection has been made.

Another friend carries bags with her, hands them out at lights, and wonders about the stories of the folks she reaches. People share how surprised and grateful recipients are to be seen and treated kindly. Some volunteers have enhanced the bags with an apple, another snack bar, a little more money, or some clothing they’d otherwise leave sitting in a drawer unused. They have chats with people they are meeting and sometimes share a hug.

This project benefits both the giver and the receiver! Our volunteers are people who don’t typically work in street outreach - people who want to make a difference, to do something, and haven’t known how. These bags offer a relatively easy and meaningful way to make a direct impact to a person in need who often feels invisible or scorned.

If I'm in a funk, nothing lifts me like being able to share a heart-to-heart connection, a smile, and a little offering of compassion and kindness.

If You'd Like to Be Part of the CompassioNate Care Mission
💕 If you’d like to be part of the CompassioNate Care mission, there are a variety of ways you can join in. Find what feels good, right, and doable to you, whether that’s shopping for items directly from the wish list, sending donations that allow me to shop and fulfill my commitment, or by being one of the people to carry these bright bags and hand them out with a smile and a blessing when there’s an opportunity! Thank you to those who’ve helped me so far and thank you to those who’d like to jump in now!

And to all of us, may we be beacons of light, hope, and kindness in a world that is desperately in need.

✨Here's how to help create CompassioNATE Care Bags ✨

We last put together 142 bags to hand out in the Rochester area in June - our magical number of 111 plus 31 for his 31st birthday. I anticipate assembling our next batch this fall, sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

🌟 Each bag has a card in it with Nate's picture, encouraging messages, and resource numbers to support people in finding the support they need.

🌟 It's easy to contribute! I've created a wishlist which is open for ongoing donations to make it easy for anyone from anywhere to contribute the items we need.

🌟 Cash donations: We could also use cash donations - these help me to buy what's missing and to put a $5 cash in each bag. You can contribute in this way through Venmo - @Barbara-Klein-25. Simply note “Care Bags” to let me know to direct your goodwill to this effort.

🌟 Want to send loving encouragement? If you'd like to write some notes of love, care, and encouragement to be included in the bags, please mail them to me at PO Box 612, Livonia, NY 14487 - send them any time, I will include them in the next batch we put together.

🌟 Willing to help hand out bags? I'm looking for people in the Rochester area to carry bags with them and hand out when they see people in need. Contact me if you're willing to be one of these people!

🌟Want to help this mission grow? Maybe you live outside the Rochester area or you're part of a group that would like to assemble and distribute bags - I'm happy to help you get started. Just e-mail me and I can share with you what I've done and help you get the resource number cards with Nate's picture and messages on the front. I'm very grateful to my friend, Judy, for helping bring some cards and bags to the Albany area in our first large-scale out of area effort!

Let's open our hearts and spread some compassion this summer! You can help to spread some light, warmth, and love to those who need it most.

Thank you so much for your consideration! The journey continues! The love lives on!

Many thanks to News 8 for covering this effort in a short story in June. You can watch here.

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Surprised by Delight

6/9/2024

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Me with my birthday "sandcastle!"

It's been 3 months since I've written, and I want to share with you the way delight has woven its way into these months, sidling up to ever-present grief. These last 3 months have held it all – deep grief as we marked the one-year anniversary of Nate’s passing and entered year 2, periods of drawing inward, withdrawing from people, earnest reflection on this life, and also moments of inspiration and joy. I want to revisit one particularly fun weekend from way back in early March – for you and for me. To remember that I know how to have fun and maybe spark some ideas in you. This was exactly the gift my husband, Tom, gave me for my 60th birthday! Discovering delight, finding fun, and remembering that fun and delight live within me right along with grief and heartache. One does not cancel out, minimize, or replace the other. They are all part of me. Part of our human experience.

What did he do, you might ask? What did he give you? Well, what he did was let me enter the day in my own way. I took a solo walk to the beach at sunrise, which I wrote about in my last blog, Answering the Call, following the magnetic pull I felt to begin my new decade with the sun.

Later that morning, he presented me with Card #1. In it was a color pencil sketched-out map on a piece of graph paper torn from his notebook. Inside its ragged edges was a rough rendering of Hilton Head with 13 activities that I could choose from – things like pastry and chai at the local bakery, make a sandcastle, go into the ocean up to my knees, and pick up my mail at the post office wearing the ginormous silver cone birthday hat he’d bought me. Each one had its own point value, and after I accumulated 50 points, I would get my first gift (and Card #2). Each activity was something he knew I would love - something that would bring me peace or joy. My heart smiled as I took in just how well this man knows me and how deeply he loves me. The quest for delight began! 😊 I’m glad to say that over the course of the weekend, I earned all my points and we had so much fun. He even got me a blow-up unicorn and lots of birthday decorations scattered throughout the condo.

In May we headed to Colorado with a couple of our music-loving buddies, and over lunch at a sweet vegetarian café on Pearl Street in Boulder, I remarked to Tom how surprised I am that we have as much delight in our life as we do. It’s surprising because we also feel the depth of pain that comes with Nate’s physical absence in our lives every single day. As we miss him, we find great delight in the signs we know our son sends us in clouds, bunnies, birds, butterflies, owls, and music. We feel him with us even as we yearn for one more hug, one more talk, one more chance. Delight is a funny thing – its energy light and twinkling, surprising with its little tickles.

Mostly I delight in simple things:

Being hooked by a beautiful sunset or shimmering full moon which take my breath away, but also the sweetness of a baby crescent new moon
Going through all my drawers and closets and putting together a giant bag or more of clothes I've loved but no longer wear to pass along in hopes they bring delight to someone else
Standing barefoot in the sun kissed, dew-dampened grass feeling my connection to earth
Watching a dancing flame of a candle or campfire
Cooking up some yummy food from the fresh produce from a farmers market or produce stand
Closing my eyes, slowing my breath, and soaking in the sun that warms my face
Going for a spontaneous movie or dinner date with Tom – spontaneity is definitely a factor in delight!
Diving into rich, deep conversation with another person who’s willing to dive right in with me, sharing layers of life, dreams, pains, and joys
Feeling the angel artwork in the clouds calling me as I stop to take it in, allowing images to be revealed, imagining their delight at splashing these gifts out for us
Catching beauty every single day indoors and out – colors, textures, life
Watching 2 sweet brown bunnies hop and romp in the yard or the comings and goings of cardinals, finches, mourning doves at the feeders
Homemade potato salad that reminds me of mom
Fairy hair – colorful strands of rainbow, copper, and mermaid blue tinsel threaded into my hair! A magical playful addition I discovered in a little gift shop called Bliss!
Dancing around the kitchen barefoot, ignoring the dirty dishes till later, as I sing loud, hoot, holler, wave, and stomp, freeing my body and voice, letting this movement bring me into this day
Receiving an unexpected phone call or card from a friend (or unexpectedly calling or sending a card to a friend)
Listening to and feeling my heart be moved by live music, especially outdoors in a beautiful place
Hearing the heart-opening stories of joy of someone who’s offered the gift of kindness to a stranger, feeling the depth of these soul connections

I’d love to hear from you:

What are ways you create or find delight in your days?
Where do you find wonder, beauty, and awe?

Please share with us in the comments. As always, we cherish your wisdom!

An Invitation so Share Delight:
Want a chance to help create delight in someone else's life? Someone too many people look away from or don't even see?

Join me in creating 142 CompassioNate Care Bags to be handed out in the Rochester, NY area this summer in loving memory and honor of my son, Nate's 31st birthday. Each colorful string bag holds necessities and niceties along with links to local resources. The bags are handed out by volunteers - people in our community who look for the chance to turn toward a fellow human and offer some love and compassion. The stories I've heard from these encounters are heart-warming, and definitely a source of delight for both giver and recipient. The ripple of love flows outward.

If you'd like to join this mission of compassion and kindness, here's what you can do:

👍Order items to arrive by 6/22 from the wishlist that will be shipped directly to me: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/3CDA1IVBB8BMB...
💕 Write simple notes of encouragement or care (messages like “You matter” or “Keep going!” Or whatever comes to your heart) signed with your name or simply as “a friend “ or “someone who cares.” Get artsy! Get the kids involved! All I ask is that you mail them to me at PO Box 612, Livonia, NY 14487 to arrive by 6/22 for them to be included in our bags.
😊 Volunteer to take some bags to carry with you and hand out when you see people in need - email me if you’re interested in meeting this need and we’ll coordinate picking up bags
💰 Cash donations will be used to stock and supplement the bags with beneficial niceties and necessities - email me for my Venmo or mail checks directly to me at PO Box 612, Livonia, NY 14487

The heartfelt stories from those who have helped offer over 300 bags this past year have been amazing! The ripple of kindness and love is deep and wide!

It’s my hope that we can expand our reach beyond the organizations that already serve these folks who struggle with homelessness. It’s also my hope that more hearts will open and may be a beacon of love and hope in dark times. Maybe we’ll even help save a life. I know we’ve saved at least one.

Also, please share this post to expand our circle of possibility if you feel inspired to do so!! We all know someone touched by substance use or mental health and this is what often leads to housing and food insecurity. Help me invite more people to turn toward our fellow humans in their most vulnerable times.

I’m just a mom trying to spread some love, kindness, compassion, and care, so there is no tax benefit to supporting our cause. However, I promise the heart expansion you’ll feel by joining me will be like the Grinch’s heart… growing 3x in one moment!! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you!

Some of the CompassioNate Care Bags we put together in March!

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Answering the Call

3/8/2024

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Image by Aurélien Barre from Pixabay

Answering the call… what's it mean? Not what it would have meant if I had written this several years ago. Then it would have been about following your heart, your dreams, your passion. Creating a life or work that calls to you. Today, it's something much simpler. A gentle and fairly easy way to tend my heart. (if you missed last week's post from guest blogger, Heather Ross, you can find Tending Your Heart here).

For the third time this week, the birds, ocean, and sun called me to sunrise. For the previous nine weeks, I often slept til 8 or 9, but now, with 3 days left in Hilton Head, I don't want to miss it. I started my 60th birthday with a solo sunrise and lots of tears because there is grief about entering a new year without my son, Nate, physically here. And because sunrise at the ocean breaks my heart open for some reason. Even today it brought tears. There's a primitive force that I feel in my heart.

This morning, most people had already left or were leaving. Some would say I'd missed it because I wasn't there for the breaking on the horizon moment. I knew that would be the case and still I went. Some would say it wasn't very dramatic because there weren't many clouds. The breaking of a new day is always a miracle, and I rarely rise to greet it, to celebrate it - so with or without clouds, it's a powerful force, a tremendous beauty to me. I'm glad I was there mostly alone, so I could take it in, feel, cry, let the sun and the wind caress my face while I closed my eyes and communed with, joined with them. It's breathtaking, and I'm glad I answered the call and gave myself this time with nature rather than lying in bed trying to go back to sleep. No, I didn’t want to miss these moments in my last days here. I’m not a National Geographic photographer – it’s not about the perfect image – it’s about being there for it, feeling the rhythm of nature, the steadiness and impermanence in the sand as the ocean washes over the beach.

Today I wrote 4EVER LOVE in the sand at the shoreline, and while it stayed untouched for a few minutes, it wasn’t long before it was quickly, gently swooped away, yet still there. Nothing can take it away. For some reason I like offering it up to the sands and the ocean – to mingle with, become a part of these forces of beauty and nature.

To breathe in the damp morning air, to bathe in the resonant sound of waves, the wind, the birdsong – it takes me away from the worries of the day, the troubles of our times, the political divide that’s already and ever escalating. Just for a few moments, I can truly feel peace, contentment, and I don’t need to do anything, produce anything, think about anything, worry about anything. I can just breathe, listen, and take in the gift of another new day. That, my friends, is a beautiful miracle that I will savor.

Even now, hours later as I sit at the kitchen table, typing up this reflection, it fills my heart, soothes, my soul, and takes me over with its magnificence. Captivates me. Entrances and enchants me. Beauty. Wonder. Awe. These are a few of my favorite things. Happy to share them with you!

What is it that brings you this sense of wonder and awe? How can you give yourself more moments with gifts for your heart and soul? What call is awaiting your response? Please share!!

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Tending Your Heart

2/19/2024

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Image by Kevin McIver from Pixabay

Guest blog by Heather Ross
Some events are so impactful that they create a distinct before and after in the timeline of your life. The events that unfolded in the second half of 2021 forever altered the landscape of my existence. Within just 6 months I was diagnosed and treated for breast cancer, including a double mastectomy, my divorce was finalized (resulting in the loss of crucial medical insurance which I needed for future treatments), and my 21-year-old daughter Helanna passed away from an overdose.

I realize this is a grim way to start a blog post, but surprisingly, the intensity of those experiences led me to a profound perspective shift and opened my life to new possibilities. Has it been easy? No! But I want you to know what’s possible, even after facing such huge challenges.

When I was in high school a friend and I were sitting on the front of a pontoon boat enjoying the refreshing breeze as her father was driving us to a restaurant on the lake. A water skier made a massive wave that caused the front of our boat to dip in the water. My friend and I were deep in the lake before we knew what happened. At first, I panicked, disoriented because I didn’t have time to take a deep breath. Then I stilled myself and waited to see if I floated up. Once I figured out which way was up, I also noticed the sunlight, and I swam toward it as fast as I could so I could take a deep breath and fill my lungs with oxygen again.

Unlike this boating accident, the events of 2021 left me disoriented with no buoyancy to help me float. There was no light to guide me to the surface so I could breathe again. I felt like I had lost everything. My mind relentlessly told me everything I had worked on for the first 49 years of my life had failed and I had no future. The grief from breast cancer, divorce, and losing Helanna sometimes felt like drinking from a fire hose, flooding me and taking me down.

I consider myself to be resilient, and before this time, when an area of my life collapsed, I built it back up better and stronger, but losing my daughter tested my strength in every way imaginable. I couldn’t imagine ever having the strength to face a future without her, so the painful thoughts intensified, becoming more and more believable.

I also started noticing memories that had not bothered me before my daughter passed away suddenly became traumatic, and I couldn’t understand why. After struggling on my own for a while, I sought EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) therapy to help me process my traumatic memories.   EMDR encourages the patient to briefly focus on the trauma memory while simultaneously experiencing bilateral stimulation (typically eye movements), which reduces the vividness and emotion associated with trauma memories, calming the nervous system.

Trauma is not only about the event itself. It is also about what happens inside us in response to the event. Trauma can be caused by any event that we experience as emotionally distressing, not just life-threatening events. The loss of my daughter made me feel very unsafe. I became preoccupied with thinking about the other horrible things that could happen. The more I thought about bad things happening the more unsafe I felt. It was a vicious cycle.

Trauma's impact extends beyond the event itself and infiltrates our thoughts, emotions, and memories. Our brains work in a think-feel-act cycle. We have a thought. That thought releases chemicals that we feel as an emotion in our body, and emotions lead us to action. Beliefs come from thoughts we think repeatedly. Our thoughts and beliefs affect our memories because our memories aren’t fixed. Each time we retrieve a memory we can distort it.

Over time a memory can become more about your thoughts and judgments about the memory than the actual memory. When trauma is involved, we distort our memories even more in what is called memory amplification. We change our recollection of our past, essentially changing our past. In this case we are making the past worse than it was. Changing our past affects how we perceive the present moment, and it can change our future because of the state of being we’re creating in this process.

This explains why my memories that weren’t traumatic previously became traumatic after my daughter passed away. Every time I retrieved those memories, I loaded the trauma with my judgments and feelings of guilt, grief, despair, hopelessness, and shame. I wasn’t aware I was distorting my memories until I started sorting it all out with EMDR.
The original feelings associated with certain memories had been written over, as if I had made changes to a Word document, and saved a newer, harsher version. The more times I retrieved the memories, the more painful they got. I was changing the feelings associated with the memories and what I made them mean about me. I started seeing myself differently – it was painful and it felt very true.

After an EMDR session where my counselor helped me peel away the layers of a highly charged memory of a conversation with my daughter, a lightbulb struck! For the first time I saw how I had changed my memories. The main emotion I had been swimming in with my memory before EMDR was shame. After EMDR, that feeling transformed to love for my daughter. Suddenly I could see the real picture and I could feel being with my daughter in that heartfelt moment again. I felt proud of how I supported her during that conversation, and I deeply felt the love between us as we talked.

This is where I got curious. If I had changed my past, present, and future by changing my memories in a way that was hurting me, maybe I could harness that power to create a positive healing experience instead. When I retrieve memories now, I include loads of compassion and understanding so I don’t keep traumatizing myself. Compassion and understanding are keys to unlocking healing.

My new perspective has me thinking about the possibility of building a beautiful future. I don’t know what my future will look like yet, but opening to the possibility that it will be filled with love and fulfillment rather than being dominated by pain and loss is the first step to creating it.

It’s not about sidestepping the pain of the void left by my daughter’s physical absence from my life. It’s about living with all that’s here and all that’s possible. I have an ache in my heart for my daughter and my life is beautiful because of my deep appreciation for every joyful experience and every moment with the people I love.

Want to hear more about this experience? Listen to Heather's podcast here!

Here's a meditation I recorded to go along with this post: Tending Your Heart. Lean in. You deserve your own tender care.

Heather Ross is the mother of a child who struggled with Substance Use Disorder, A Family Recovery Coach, Invitation to Change Certified, CRAFT trained, and the host of the popular podcast called Living with Your Child’s Addiction.

Heather offers a program for parents that is compassionate, family-centered, based on science, and teaches parents how to create their own peace of mind whether their child is in recovery or still using substances. She believes parents have more power than they realize and the best gift they can give their child is a healthy parent.

When Heather is not helping other parents, she enjoys spending time in nature with her dogs, going to sound baths on the beach, traveling, and creating beautiful memories with friends and family.

You can find out more about Heather and her offerings by visiting Heather Ross Coaching.
Here's Heather's free "A New Perspective about Enabling"
Listen to the Living with Your Child's Addiction Podcast

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Showing Up

2/4/2024

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Guest Blog by Steve Aman
There is a shadow that lurks in me that often whispers “you’re not good enough.” That shady shadow might add “what makes you think you can do that?” or some other diminishing words of gloom. It has taken many years for me to learn how to speak back to that voice. Today I can tell it, “thank you, but I don’t need you right now. Step back and I will get to you later.” In the meantime, I discovered that when I just show up, things move along pretty smoothly and even incredibly.

Some time back I learned a universal truth. When we come into this world, we arrive with our own unique set of gifts and challenges. Truly, there is no one else on this earth with an identical mix like our own, and I have no doubt that this is no accident. When I compare myself to another, I automatically withhold some of my gold, and that is not what I came here for.

On the other hand, when I simply show up and open myself to the flow of energy, what I call Spirit, and I trust that flow, I cannot go wrong. Some folks call this energy intuition. I call it “hollow bone” energy. When I allow myself to become the conduit, or the hollow bone, between Spirit and this physical world, magic happens. The most challenging part of this for me over time has been to trust what I am hearing or feeling. “You want me to do what?” I have often asked. And, when I simply showed up, trusted that there was something bigger than me behind the scenes so to speak, it has never failed to turn out beautifully. Indeed, it seems that paying attention to that energy often turns out to be a significant gift for someone involved.

Please join the conversation:

Do you have internal messages that keep you from showing up?
What have you discovered when you've overcome the doubt or fear and shown up to give your gifts anyway?
Is there an opportunity for you to show up where you might feel a little hesitant? What will it take to do it anyway?

Please share with us in the comments below. Thanks for adding your wisdom!

Meet Steve:
Steve is a retired farmer and has been deeply in love with the Earth his entire life. He and his wife of 53 years, Mary, live on a wondrous bit of creation in upstate New York that includes woods, meadow, wetland, stream, farmland and pond.

Steve has been deeply immersed in teaching nature awareness and primitive skills for decades, and is currently co-developer for the Resilience and Acceptance in the Face of Collapse course (https://acceptingcollapse.com/) currently being offered across the globe. He strives to live by the maxim "balance is the key", and recognizes that absolutely nothing provides meaning like being of service.

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Changing Perspective

1/23/2024

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Image by □ Mabel Amber, who will one day from Pixabay

Perspective – a way of thinking about and understanding something. A point of view. The way we view our world and the people, events, and circumstances in it. Our thoughts, stories, and beliefs about ourselves.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how a shift in perspective can have a significant effect on our lives. How we view something informs our experience. Perception is reality. Where we focus our attention affects how we feel. Our minds quickly and naturally categorize things as pleasant or unpleasant, good or bad, right or wrong, and we may accept these labels without question.

Do we see the world through rose-colored glasses or do we jump on the misery loves company train more often than we’d like? What stories do we hold about ourselves? "This is just who I am. I don't... I always..." Are they solidified from years of repetition or do they allow for evolution, expansion, becoming? What would it be like to shift to "Maybe... I don't know. It might be possible."

Since there are so many places we could go with these ideas and questions, I’ve invited some wise and beautiful souls to write a series of posts about perspective that I will share with you in the upcoming weeks. Asking them to share their experiences with changing perspective and the impact it’s had on their life. I’m excited for us all to hear what it means to them and to learn from them what’s helped support a shift in a challenging time.

Sometimes asking a new question or considering a different viewpoint can lead to a pivotal moment in one’s life. For instance, when I came to terms with the idea that my son might never find recovery, that he might not even want the recovery I envisioned for him, I softened a bit, nagging him less, listening more (at least every now and then), and our connection deepened.

The Power of Questions

Questioning our own beliefs or pithy phrases thrown around as if everyone knows and accepts them as truth is healthy and wise. For instance, “You’re only as happy as your unhappiest child.” Is that the only possible truth? Does this have to condemn you to their level of sadness? Or is it possible that you can be happy, even if your child is struggling?

Lucy Hone, a leading authority on resilience poses the question, "Is this (thought) helping or hurting me?" Thinking about what serves you and what disempowers you invites you to make a change.

"It shouldn't be this way" is a thought I've entertained, held onto, and dwelled in many times in my life. A thought like this can lead to advocacy or taking a stand for change, but it can also keep you stuck. Even with advocacy, we need to begin with the reality of what's here. For healing, we need to let ourselves feel what's true. When we can come to, "I don't like it, but it is this way, so now what?" we can lean into what's next. We can discern what steps to take, what's called for.

Shifting from "I can't" to "I won't" can move you from feeling a victim to making an empowered choice. Feel into the difference between, "I can't take this any more! I can't do this!" vs. "I won't do ____." Won't feels like it gives you ground to stand on and also opens the door for "I won't do this, but I could do this other thing." Thoughts that land as absolutes are limiting whereas questions open possibilities.

Learning to discern for ourselves, “Is that really true?” can open our minds and maybe reveal another path or ground of being. Is it true that I'm not a good public speaker? Is it true that my kid always lies to me? Is it true that things will never change? Never and always are pretty good indicators that we're locked into a limiting story.

Please enjoy exploring this contemplation with our guest writers in the coming weeks!

So many questions...I’d love to hear from you

How does this land for you? What does it stir up?
When have you changed perspective on something?
Is there a perspective shift you're playing with right now?
Change is hard - particularly mindset change. What helped you to get there?
How have things in your life changed as a result?

Please drop me a note or share with us in the comments below. Thanks for adding your wisdom!

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Beauty and Gratitude can Change Your Life

10/31/2023

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I struggled with whether to publish this post at this time; daily we are bombarded with heartbreaking headlines. Is now the time for a post about beauty and gratitude? I decided yes, it was. Because in times like this, we need to find a counterbalance more than ever. We need to remember that our world is more than horrifying headlines and traumatic events. Always, even now, there is beauty. There are things to be grateful for.

It’s a profound understatement to say there are a multitude of horrible, terrifying, and devastating things happening in the world – in our communities, country, and across the globe. Whether you’re glued to the news or not, the energy of these events affects us all. We likely feel powerless as to what to do – especially for things that are happening far away or are so impossibly overwhelming we don’t even know where to begin.

Also, we may not know what to do in our own lives when things feel out of control, scary, uncertain, and people we love are in trouble. The more we fret, the more exhausted we become, and we think less clearly. When we rehash the bad, the painful, re-telling the same upsetting story over and over, we strengthen the heavy impact it has on us. We add to our own stress.

Every single one of us is programmed to focus on pain, what’s wrong, and to be on the lookout for danger or impending doom – that’s part of human nature that has kept us safe and alive for eons. Scientists call this the negativity bias.

In his blog, Rick Hanson describes it this way - “Your brain is continually looking for bad news. As soon as it finds some, it fixates on it with tunnel vision, fast-tracks it into memory storage, and then reactivates it at the least hint of anything even vaguely similar. But good news gets a kind of neural shrug: “uh, whatever. In effect, the brain is like Velcro for negative experiences but Teflon for positive ones.”

The negative experiences stick to us, poke at us, and wear us down, while we ignore, brush off, or don’t even notice positive ones. Sometimes we miss much of what’s “good,” simply because we take it for granted. For instance (and hypothetically speaking, of course! 😉), you might not think about how strong your legs are and how much they do for you until you break your foot. Once you’ve broken that foot and your mobility and independence are affected, it grabs your attention and pulls you into the pit of feeling bad. It can be hard to think about anything else, and you may pile on by judging yourself for having such a stupid accident (hypothetically speaking, again!).

The good news is there are simple and accessible ways to shift our mindset and experience – when we do so, we can better show up for the things that require our energy.

We need to find ways to re-energize ourselves, and one of those ways is to find a broader perspective and remember things are not all or nothing, good or bad. Truly, a wide array of experiences and offerings aany given moment. Yes, there's horror, and yes, there's more than that.

While I’ve learned that I’m not in control of the experiences in my life. I broke my foot, my son died, it’s raining, wars are raging worldwide – these are facts, and obviously facts that vary in intensity and severity. They are things I wish were different, and there's nothing I can do to change them.

And yet, even when times are tough or excruciatingly painful, there is still good in life. We have the ability to find it, notice it, or create it. And, let me be clear, I’m not talking about avoiding, denying, or jumping over the rough stuff through pretending, spiritual bypassing, or looking for the silver lining too soon (or ever) in untenable events. Nor am I suggesting you say affirmations that tell you things are better than they are (unless that works for you. In which case, affirm away!).

But, what is true, is that each and every day, no matter the agony, pain, and heartache, there is also beauty somewhere in life. Whether it’s the red-bellied woodpecker flitting through the trees, crying out to be seen or the cascade of golden leaves floating to the lawn or the dandelion brave enough to peek up through the cement, there’s something beautiful here. A coffee mug given by a dear friend. A photo of a special memory. The scent of a pumpkin chai candle. Beauty does not have to be big or bold, but it does long to be seen, witnessed, savored.

In her beautiful book for navigating tough times, Keep Moving, Maggie Smith speaks of the way she and her children delight in sharing “beauty emergencies” – those things that have to be seen right away, before they’re gone. If one of them sees a spectacular sunset or a dinosaur in the clouds, they’ll call out to the others, “Beauty emergency!” so they can cherish it together and no one misses out. What a sweet way to be on alert for something wonderful.  Maybe all emergencies aren’t bad.

Life has been very chaotic for us over the past 14 years with my son’s struggles with substance use and other mental health challenges. So much despair. So much fear. Times adding up to months of lost connection and opportunities over the years. It would have been easy for me to have been all-consumed with all that was bad, scary, unknown. In the deep grief since his physical passing, it’s easy to cry endlessly and think of nothing other than how much I miss him. But even with all the pain and suffering, there is also much to be grateful for.

That we had 29 years with him, I am grateful for. That I got to be his mom. For the happy and hopeful moments that were scattered in there, I am grateful. The small things like a hug or a deep conversation – those were always a gift. Because I knew how precarious his life and our time together was, I learned to cherish precious moments along the way. And when I was too upset with him to find gratitude within that relationship, I opened my heart to the fullness of life. A delicious meal, a warm home, fresh water and air, or a friend who’d let me vent were things I could be grateful for.

Gratitude:
Taking time to pause and open my heart to beauty and gratitude has changed my experience of life – the way I feel about and within life. For over a decade I have had an intentional gratitude practice. Usually that means in the evening taking some time to reflect on the day and list things that I am grateful for, things I’ve noticed throughout the day, and share it on Facebook. I’m not sure how this practice started, but it has become a daily ritual that strengthens me; sharing with others fills me up.

On particularly hard mornings, I’ve taken a little time while still in bed, reflecting on what I’m grateful for; this practice helps me enter the day. Somehow something inside of me softens as I remember and acknowledge beautiful bits of life. The other day I sat on our deck and softly offered verbal thanks for the people who’ve shown up to walk through this chapter of life with me; taking just a few minutes to acknowledge long-standing friendships and new people who are coming into my circle – feeling them in my heart as I pictured each one. These are some of the ways I’ve taken time to intentionally reflect and feel into gratitude.

Finding Beauty:
I also look for beauty each day and share pictures on Facebook as well. “Today’s beauty” posts seem to offer a welcome and different vibe to this platform. I like sharing sunsets, cloud formations, leaves, trees, and flowers with people. I love rippling beauty into a dark and ugly time and a space that is too often contentious.

The more I practice gratitude and look for beauty, the more I find myself noticing throughout the day. The more I notice things I appreciate, the less I dwell on all that’s wrong. This isn’t a magic formula or an exercise to check off a list, but rather a way to open my heart and spirit to all of life. Gratitude lives alongside grief in my mind and heart, woven together, inseparable. After my dear friend, Mary, passed away, I wrote a bit about this in “Good Grief, Gratitude, and Grace.” I was absolutely devastated to have lost the one person in my life who always made me laugh and who willingly opened her heart to all of me. There was nothing I had to hide from Mary. Who would I turn to now? And yet, gratitude and grace were there too. It’s been the same since my son, Nate, died; this crushing loss has dropped me to my knees and isolated me more than any loss in my life and it lives inside my heart right along with beauty, grace, and gratitude.

Life will bring what life will bring. How we meet it is up to us. I’m in for the full human experience, so I don’t shy away from the depths of grief and sadness. But I’m also always on the hunt for beauty and gratitude. Slowing down enough to feel gratitude seep through the cells of my being, breathing it in, allowing it to permeate the deep dark places softens my heart, welcomes the tears, and expands my capacity for living fully. Savoring beauty often takes my breath away, filling me with wonder and awe.

Beauty and gratitude help us to see and think about more than all that’s wrong with the world, all that’s hard or painful in our lives. They remind us that life is full of a vast variety of people, things, and experiences. We’re not trying to cancel out or deny anything; we’re adding in more of what we might have been missing. Where we choose to focus our attention affects us.

“When you do nothing, you feel overwhelmed and powerless. But when you get involved, you feel the sense of hope and accomplishment that comes from knowing you are working to make things better.” Maya Angelou

An Invitation:
Today I invite you to join me in this quest to find moments of beauty and gratitude. Let’s try it right now. Wherever you are, whether it’s on the subway or in the most peaceful bedroom sanctuary, look around.   What do you see that’s beautiful? Take it in – the colors, shapes, texture, scent. Allow its beauty to lift a smile. As you sit here, close your eyes and feel into one thing you’re grateful for, no matter how big or small. Experience what it feels like to fully appreciate something. Breathe in the feeling of gratitude and allow it to flow through your cells. What do you notice?

Take your time and take in as much beauty and gratitude as you like, and then throughout your day be on the lookout for more. Give thanks. Appreciate what you find. Over time, you may just find your experience of life shifting. Please share your experience with us here!

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Awareness, Recovery, & Retreat

10/14/2023

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August 31 is International Overdose Awareness Day - all around the world people gather to remember and honor the way too many lives lost to substance-related deaths. We grieve. We mourn. We come together to hope for recovery for those still here.

This year was my first from the perspective of having lost my son just 5 months earlier - 5 months to the day we cried over his casket to say our final goodbyes to his physical form. When invited to speak at our local Scotty B Overdose Awareness Day (created by another mother in memory of her beloved son), I didn’t skip a beat as I replied to the full-body goosebump “Yes.” I didn’t know why or even what I’d say, but I knew it was an authentic yes. That morning I reached out to several people asking, “What do I even have to offer? My son didn’t find recovery. My son died. How can I offer inspiration or hope?” I cried. Big tears. Lots of tears. I received their encouragement and gathered my thoughts, pulling together a message intended to raise awareness, to share Nate’s story, what I’ve learned over the past 30 years, what I wish I had known, and an appeal for greater kindness and compassion for all people.

My dear friend, a fellow angel mama, and I started the day at an Overdose Awareness Vigil in a part of the city where the need for compassionate, non-judgmental support and care is immense. We sat in a circle with people in recovery, people in active use, family members, friends, and allies, and people at dire risk. We shared pizza and memories of those lost. We shared what called us to this circle that day. We learned how to use Naloxone to save a life. We learned about Overdose Prevention Centers and the critical need for them, and we shared space, time, and life. It was beautiful. Heart-touching. Heart-wrenching, and heart-opening.

From there over to Scotty B Day where I met and visited with people in the recovery community - some of the most authentic, sensitive, creative, beautiful people in the world. I shared table with my friend, the beautiful writer, Jennifer Collins. In addition to selling my book, I had care bags to give away for those in need, along with Nate’s cards (which have his picture and the messages “I see you. You matter. You are not alone.” and local resource numbers on them) and Never Use Alone cards. I watched as one young man picked up Nate’s card and withered into a gut-punching, disbelieving gasp… “No, no, no… tell me it’s not true…” He had been Nate’s neighbor in supportive housing. “He was doing well…” his confusion voiced as he took in this news. Yeah. He was. Until he wasn’t. Awareness awakening.

After I spoke (you can listen to the talk here), I had the beautiful opportunity to connect with so many open-hearted people. Parents who wanted to know more about the Invitation to Change, who longed for a different way to be with their loved ones. Parents who heard our story and committed to being with their young ones differently - to let them be who they are, whether they are 3, 9, 11, or 15. Parents who had lost kids somewhat guiltily confessing, “I did the whole enabling thing…” because they had gone to their child, supported them, loved them. I offered a reframe: “Sounds like you loved your kid. There is no need to apologize for that. Ever.” Phew. Exhale. No need for shame. You loved your child, as did I. Let’s let the stories go, drop this all-too-common cultural narrative, and begin to heal around this loss. Find our recovery. Other people I met love people in active use, kids who are on the streets, at great risk; these people are doing what they can to love them well, to support them, while also taking care of themselves. There’s room for it all. Awareness. Connection. You’re not alone. One tiny moment at a time…it’s enough.

It was a beautiful, encouraging, uplifting, devastating, heart-opening, heart-wrenching day. I wobbled away from the podium, away from the space, and met up with my husband to celebrate, debrief, and cry. I was wrung out and filled up all at once.

The next day kicked off National Recovery Month. And, I felt myself slide into a valley. It had taken a ton of energy to prepare for Overdose Awareness Day, only a little over a month after Nate’s memorial service. It was time for me to immerse deeply into my own recovery. After putting myself out there, there was a natural reaction to pull back, go within, hunker down, and restore myself. You might have experienced something similar in your own life. Even as I continued to post support and encouragement for the recovery movement, for individual and family recovery, I was heading into a gentle crash and into my next phase of recovery.

Here's what I know about recovery: it begins within and is a deeply personal journey. As my friend, Chris’s shirt says, “Recovery is any Positive Action.” It’s not clear, straightforward, or linear. It is often painful and painstakingly hard. Recovery can only be approached and managed one minute at a time. It requires a leap of faith into the unknown, hoping that the effort will be worth it. Recovery requires letting go of tried-and-true comfort and survival tactics to find new, less certain ways to be. It calls us to look at past pain, to open our hearts to grieve what might have been as we lean into what’s here, and step toward what’s possible.

Recovery calls us inward to reconnect with ourselves – our hearts, our spirits, to touch what’s true and to connect with what’s available to us. Anything that requires a lot of energy, particularly emotional energy, will invite a period of respite and recovery afterwards. Awareness. Can we pay attention to the needs of our body, mind, heart, and spirit and find a way to honor that need?

The first weeks after Overdose Awareness Day were very uncomfortable as I found myself confronting some dark, haunting questions: What if? What if I had seen how desperately Nate was spiraling out of control and had insisted he come to dinner with us the night he dropped off the grid? What if I had invited him to stay with us for the weekend the last time I last saw him, 6 days before he died? Would he still be here? I suspect this is a natural grief response, grasping for what might have been different. Not so much blame, but a desperate wish that I had known and had the chance to make different choices. Recovery calls us to face our shadows in order to move forward, so I met myself there and sunk into the feelings and thoughts that swept through.

After a couple of weeks in intentional recovery mode, I also added retreat into my life, packing up and getting away from home, from Rochester with all its ghosts and ghostly places. First I headed off with my husband, Tom, to hole up in a hotel and sleep, read, and write some overdue cards, while he worked.

Next, we headed off to a massive music festival where we could easily get lost in the crowd in Louisville, Kentucky. We savored an evening with Brandi Carlile (I just love her...sigh). Total anonymity and shared love of a great artist held us in this musical escape.

Then Tom dropped me off at a rustic retreat center in the mountains of western North Carolina for a women’s retreat – my first big social space with mostly unknown women since Nate’s death. I was welcomed with huge hugs from two loving women, soul sisters I’ve known for almost a decade, women who have answered the call to show up for this deep mama loss. I found my way to my remote charming cabin by the creek and settled myself into it for a musty nap, the creek offering its gentle natural white noise. And I bawled. I let my tears soak my pillow. I let my body shake as sobs moved through me. In this quiet space of solitude, I let myself feel the fear of something happening to Tom, and felt the deep awareness of how desperately I need him to be ok, to be safe, to stay alive. How much I need him. Period.

Eventually sleep found me, and after a refreshing rest, I was able to enter retreat tentatively, gingerly, dosing out bits of my current reality as I was able. Giving myself the gift of my own deep attention and care – what did I need? Feel? Want? Following this inquiry, moment by moment, without expectation, without judgment. Allowing space for the bereaved mother, the open-hearted dancer, the tearful singer, the curious writer, and all the bits of me to be present. Allowing the silence to deepen my connection to myself. I let myself be filled up, sharing space and energy with other women, each on her own journey, each in her own space, facing her own longings, fears, awakenings, awareness, and insights as retreat worked on us. It was healing, cathartic, transformative, and I am deeply grateful for it all.

As we cycle through life, when we can allow ourselves to follow Awareness, Recovery, and Retreat, we grow. We evolve. We let go. We connect. We become. The next iteration of who we are in this moment of life emerges. We open to what’s possible. We face hard truths. We heal. And then we do it all over again. Maybe this is all life asks of us.

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