Journal of Sacred Work

Days 364-365 How to "Stay Glad"

By ~liz Sorensen Wessel

On this Eve of ringing in a New Year there is a temptation to try and turn over a new leaf. After all, the year ahead is as pristine as freshly fallen snow, the path untrodden and before us glistens the hope of a new beginning.

(For fun, I've included Woody Guthrie's 1942 New Year's resolutions, below.)

 
Source:gothamist.com                                                                                

Yet, how quickly New Year's resolutions are broken with our motivation dissipating like smoke. Perhaps, this is because our approach is often about "doing" something (or not) rather than cultivating a relationship with ourselves and with life (as Erie alluded to in this weeks Journal essay, "The New Year's Bell of Kindness").

I can't help wonder if the seed of meaningful change begins first with a reversal of thought.  A thought beyond intellect that flows forth from the heart. One that holds an intention of opening to what arises within us in a friendly way. A state of being that is diminished when trying to describe it with words.

This past week I read an inspiring reflection about living an intention of "giving", which I highly recommend. The author offers a wonderful illustration of giving. (Make your Life Into A Giving, Jaggi Vasudeva,12/27/2011) www.iJourney.org). Often, my thoughts wander towards reaching for what seems to be lacking in my life. I've known of a spiritual truth that reveals one cannot give without receiving because they are both really one and the same. I experience this truth, especially when my giving is pure and without any expectation of return. This level of giving is deeply satisfying and nourishing to one's soul.

If we contemplate the gifts life has given us we awaken to significance. Our journey begins with Ruah breathing life into us. Mother Earth provides an abundance of miraculous conditions for our sustanance as well as Beauty to spark our spirits' dance.

When we live an intention of "giving" ourselves to life, of only giving (even though  receiving is inevitable) I imagine a subtle shift might occur in our relationships.
This week, Erie's thought provoking essay speaks to us of living a heart of kindness. My heart's intention is to live "giving"  as a way into a deepening relationship with life, my friends and loved ones. 

Caregivers give because they love. They open the doors of their hearts to the worlds great need without expectation of anything in return and they find themselves sailing upon a wonderous sea of gratitude.

Wishing you much giving in this New Year!

~liz

Days 362-363 - The New Year's Bell of Kindness

  Jimmy Stewart's daughter in "It's a Wonderful Life" reports that every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings. It's a sugary end to one of film's best-told stories.

   It's also an image of opportunity. Over the next weeks, fitness clubs will boom with those in search of body training. 

   Where are those signing up for kindness training? I have never signed such a list.

   Mostly, I traffic in words of advice rather than acts of Love. I am Woody Allen's proverbial Rabbi Blitzstein who dispenses counsel he himself ignores.

  With discouraging self-talk, I find myself wondering why my life is so desperate to hold on to itself. Why, now that my career is over, am I still fond of breathing and passionate for peaks when the abyss cuts so deeply?

   At each click of the clock my heart will stock up another cupboard full of scars if I allow it to dwell in the pool of self-pity.

   See the stars? How content they are in their shining.

   And there stands the embattled sailor. How intent he is on conquering the sea when he could choose to slide his hand into the silver horn and ring out kindness.

   Kind acts need not be grand. Small gestures can change lives.

   That is the song that rings from Naomi Shihab Nye in words that echo Love:

   "Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,/ You must know sorrow as the other deepest thing./ You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth."

   If there is one thing veteran caregivers know, it is "the size of the cloth." No heart stocks a greater cupboard of scars then that of the healing caregiver.

   Think not only of Mother Theresa but of her anonymous colleagues. The back streets of Calcutta hold need. It is there that the bell of kindness can ring clear - or hang silent.

   Need stalks the corridors of every hospital, nursing home and hospice. It calls, as well, from your own home.

    First, the face in the mirror must have kindness. 

   "Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore," Nye writes. "...only kindness ties your shoes and...raises its head/ from the crowd of the world to say/ It is I you have been looking for,/ and then goes with you everywhere/ like a shadow or a friend."

   You will ring the bell of kindness many times this year. Begin by ringing it for yourself each morning before you sail into the sea that needs you.

-Erie Chapman 

Photograph - Reaching into the Horn - copyright Erie Chapman 2011

"She Who Reconciles"

[Note: The following reflection was written by regular Journal reader Karen York (in photo). Karen is a past Executive Vice President at Nashville's Alive Hospice]

  The college girls are home now for the Christmas break, once again filling my empty nest with joy. At this point in my life I spend more and more time gathering a thought here and a memory there to weave a tale of my existence.

    My life has been a journey of the day-to-day, minute-by-minute accumulation of working, driving, shopping, cooking, eating, sleeping; much like everyone else.  In the midst of these anchors that hold a life together, are the opportunities to grab hold of something that makes an eternal difference. Like the way I speak to the elderly gentleman having trouble with the plastic bags in the fruit section at the market. Or the empathetic smile to the mom whose baby won’t stop crying on the airplane.

   Maybe it’s the ever-ready all-encompassing hug to anyone who is open to receiving it, or the opening of a door to a stranger. As caregivers, we pave the way for others to be open to receiving love and healing through our compassion, our gestures of grace, and our always-open hearts.

    This poem of Rilke is found in his collection of Love Letters to God. Each time I read it, I uncover a new experience as it becomes a deeper part of me.  Without the centering of God’s grace and the sharing of love, my life wouldn’t amount to much. It’s in that deep and quiet place, when I come back to where I know I belong, that I am able to stretch beyond the fear that limits me to surround my world with love.   

    Today I thought of Mary as she held her newborn and perhaps reflected on all that had occurred.  In a very deep place, a seed of love was planted and she went about her life, doing her duties, cleaning her house, raising her child, letting him go, and preparing the way for the gift of agape so that each one of us can know Him. 

Here is Rilke's poem:

She who reconciles the ill-matched threads of her life,

and weaves them gratefully into a single cloth—

It’s she who drives the loud mouths from the hall and clears it for a different celebration

 

where the one guest is you.

In the softness of evening it’s you she receives.

 

You are the partner of her loneliness,

the unspeaking center of her monologue.

 

With each disclosure you encompass more

and she stretches beyond

what limits her

 

-Karen York

Coming Home

Written by ~liz Sorensen Wessel

This Christmas Eve, my thoughts turn towards home. My heart opens into scenes of years gone by, of a young girl growing up in the Sorensen family. Oh, the many selves we carry within us as we journey through life. Personally, I have not gone home for Christmas in over 30 years. This year, I will surprise my mom with a visit to Vermont. My sweet mom will soon enter her 96th year and is the last of her generation.

 A woman who lived in an age of innocence, Elizabeth Dorothea Lawler was the youngest of six children. She was raised in an Irish Catholic family in the Bronx, New York. But don’t let stereotypes deceive you, it was a young and vibrant city, sparkling with life. In a family of eight, money was scarce but they were rich in love for each other.

 My parents grew up in the same neighborhood and were acquaintances since childhood. As mom  flowered into womanhood her beauty drew captured him. He would find any excuse to ride the same train into Manhattan as mom in hopes of striking up a conversation. Eventually, his strategy paid off and they began dating. As one might say, the rest is history.

 On one level, this coming home, of returning full circle is nostalgic and abundant in gratitude. An expansiveness flows from the pain and joy of being alive; of living and dying; of loving and letting go. Yet, this coming home, of turning towards our Mother and Father takes us into a deeper sacred realm. The Aramaic word "Metanoia" means change of heart, “and refers to the meeting or coming together in the innermost part, the center, or if you will, the heart.” (Journal Essay, Oct. 15, 2011).

"Through the heart, we come to know of the Divine and through the heart the healing Grace of Love manifests in our lives." ~Fr. Michael Adams

This particular understanding of Metanoia is especially meaningful to me. A precious gift awaits us, as we are called by One who loves us, to return home. Wherever you or I might find ourselves, when our hearts open in Love, we are home.

Oh, You who are born of Love…

Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,
May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.

As the wind loves to call things to dance,
May your gravity by lightened by grace.

Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,
     May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.

As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become.

As silence smiles on the other side of what's said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.

As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.

May your prayer of listening deepen enough
to hear in the depths the laughter of God.”

 John O'Donohue

Mandala by ~liz

Belief - Experiencing Santa

  Across six and a half decades, the wide-eyed-bursting-with-wonder little kid in the picture telegraphs to us  an image of coming face to face with a god. He is an image of unbounded amazement.

   My older sister Ann's expression reflects a different feeling. Opposing faces of joy and dismay, we signal our experiences of Santa. (Note the other kids in the background, all of whom had already met Santa.)

   It took sixty-five years for Ann to reveal to me a secret about this photo. The event was held at the Hollywood, California YMCA which my father headed at the time. All children were told their names would be called to receive a present from Father Christmas. 

   Our names were never called. Dad didn't want it to look like the children of the boss were benefiting from a Y-sponsored event. He failed to share that crucial fact until afterwards.

   Everyone raised with a belief in Santa reaches the day when myth melts into a new reality. How we respond to such news can affect our sense of trust. 

   Most seem to travel this passage with relative ease. After all, hundreds of myths collapse as we become older children and then teenagers.

   There's no Tooth Fairy. The Easter Bunny doesn't hide those eggs. Superman can't really fly (Darn it!) 

   As these characters cumbled I shot a question at my dad: "If there's no Santa, what about God?" He assured me God existed.

   But, I wasn't so sure. Maybe God was just another con game foisted on children by adults who knew better. I'd been tricked before. Was I being tricked again?

   Why do so many enthusiastic children become cynical adults? Could it be they've been "conned" too many times?

   Many adults continue the idolization game. We "believe" in movie stars and politicians for example - as superhuman people beyond we ordinary folks. Routinely, public examination reveals flaws and we are, strangely, surprised as well as disappointed.

   How do we nurture belief and its attendant hope amid life's "betrayals?"

   When my dad acknowledged there was no Santa he assured me there was other good news. There's "the spirit" of Christmas.

    An invisible spirit is obviously harder to grasp than the apparent reality of something we can see. But the invisible holds a special power - it can be flawless.

   The question is not whether our love is perfect but whether we, as humans, are able to let God's energy flow through us. 

   The world's cynicism blocks God's light. Still, we must retain enough discernment to live in society. 

   The door to Love's light is always open. The portal to our hearts will remain locked unless we can open enough to let Love illuminate our way.

   What the best caregivers do is to help us keep our spirit's ajar. Christmas opens a window for us to revist Santa as a hopeful reminder of sharing. That giving is, of course, the mother of the love we call caregiving.

-Reverend Erie Chapman  

You Can Sing This Song

  Written by ~liz Sorensen Wessel

 In the quiet of the pre-dawn morning, my thoughts are with an old friend. Through the years, he wove his being into the fabric of our family and became a beloved member of our clan.  Our world intercepted by seeming happenstance. Yet, I’ve heard it said that everything is by intention; that nothing happens by accident or in a mindless random fashion. This is a concept I am uncertain about but I must admit our friend showed up at an earth-shattering time in our lives. Vividly etched in my mind are memories of that era.

 It was spring in 1999, my dear father-in-law was succumbing to the ravages of cancer and our family was grieving. Our boys, Lee age 13 and John age 9, had experienced the tremendous loss of their beloved grandma who died the year before.  It was nearing the end of the school year and our sons were anxious to show off their accomplishments at Open House that night.

 When we met our friend to be, it was love at first sight. There was an instant recognition an intuitive knowing mixed with nervous excitement upon greeting him. My stomach was all butterflies and I could feel my heart racing. His large brown eyes and gorgeous auburn hair were an irresistible combination but it was the warmth of his greeting that captured my heart. He had imprinted his soul upon mine. That was the beginning of our true and lasting friendship. As it turned out, he was in need of a place to stay and on a surprisingly unusual impulse; we welcomed him into our home.

 Although he disarmed us with his charm, it was also a time of great adjustment for our family as we became better acquainted.  He assumed almost a regal stance and expected the utmost respect when one approached him. We soon learned that this fellow had strict boundaries that demanded attention. He never tolerated playful roughhousing or spontaneous physical embraces by the kids. His reaction was so unexpectedly harsh that you were afraid he might bite your head off. Yet, what he lacked in social graces he made up for in unconditional love for each one of us.

 Over time, it became apparent that we meant the world to him. He was very protective of us and had many idiosyncrasies that were so endearing. For instance, he would not go to bed at night if someone was still up, no matter how late that might be. He had to make sure that everyone was tucked-in-tight before he could take his rest. Often he walked the perimeter of our property hourly as if on guard to ensure our safety. His heightened concern for our well-being created a magnetic field of safety for our family and our home.

 Ah, but his unconditional love was what astounded us all. Never a day passed that he was not overjoyed to greet us upon our return home. Ours was a relationship that went beyond mere words for he lived the language of Love. Judgments never entered into our relationship. Those human characteristics that eventually become irksome when living under the same roof, never bothered him.  No matter, if we harbored a sullen temperament, felt ornery, were unbecoming in appearance, held unpopular political views, or had differing religious preferences, he adored us. He loved us without bias, cause, or reason.  That love grew daily until all that was left was love and our gratitude.

 

 

 

 

 

 

His name was Pudge, our beloved friend and family member.

April 6^, 1999 - December 15, 2011.

 

 

 

Above drawing by~liz

“My goal is to be as good a person as my dog thinks I am.” ~Harvey Mackay

 

"Recruiting" Spiritual Strength

    When I told my doctor recently that I sometimes felt more strength in the middle of weight-lifting than I did at the beginning he said, "That's because your body is recruiting more muscle."

   I had never thought of bodies in terms of "recruiting" muscle. Maybe this explains how small women can lift huge cars - if the car is crushing their child. 

   Maybe this is how old men can run marathons and how some cancer patients condemned to die in six months end up living six years. Perhaps this is how human beings recruit enough muscle to climb Mount Everest.

   And maybe this is how ordinary painters change the movement of their hands to become great artists. They recruit spiritual energy the rest of us leave idle.

   "We're all so much stronger than we think we are," I heard author Norman Cousins say twenty years ago. At the time, he was about ten years beyond a terminal diagnosis.

   How did Cousins "recruit" sacred strength?

   He laughed. 

   In Cousins' book, Anatomy of an Illness, he describes watching Groucho Marx and other comedians. He claims laughter released healing strengths in his body. His evidence was his survival.

   Can we "recruit" spiritual strength in this way? Is this what Cousins was doing?

   Dr. Victor Frankl hypothesized that focusing on something meaningful opens the door to spiritual (and survival) strength. Meaning is the medicine that fuels hope. 

   Hope is the key to recruiting spiritual strength. Without it, we are lost. With it, we can survive against all logic. 

   The analogy between recruiting physical strength and awakening spiritual power seems clear. We need to work at nurturing our spirits just as we need to exercise to build muscle.

   We need to know that we carry within us a well of sacred energy far deeper than we imagine in our ordinary hours. This power, however, will only arise if we find the courage and the faith to call on it. 

   If we fail to exercise our spirits, our earthly soul withers. We need laughter, the encouraging presence of friends, Beauty, and the waters of Love to thrive in this world.

   This is a key gift healing caregivers offer. They help recruit hope for their patients, for their fellow caregivers and, thus, for themselves.

   When we provide these rays of hope we receive a great gift: God's gratitude.

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Photograph: Painter's Hand - copyright Erie Chapman 2011

Days 359-360 Hundreds of Thousands of Years of Imagination

 “All you can ever achieve is a sense of your soul. You gain little glimpses of its light, colors, and contours. You feel the inspiration of its possibilities and the wonder of its mysteries.”–John O’Donohue

  Reflection by ~liz Sorensen Wessel

The luxury of sleeping in on a Saturday morning can seem quite delicious to most, especially for caregivers after a long week of toil. Yet, I find something so warm and inviting about rising in the early morning to keep company with such a hospitable friend.

 In the quiet hush, before day awakens, time seems suspended. As the primordial darkness hovers, on the slate, as black as night, all is unwritten. Thoughts begin to form as shimmering stars. The newness of clay undefined, without shape, receptive to your hands, hopeful that you might discover the shape of your dreams and your one true gift.

 I recently watched a video featuring the late, John O’Donohue. He shared a unique concept that I had never considered. He said, “Each of us has a huge pre-life that we have before we ever show up physically on this planet. Hundreds of thousands of years of imaginations and dreaming at the divine level went into the creation of the masterpiece that is each individual.” 

Each one of us, with one irreplaceable time of "being" in this world.

 The pre-dawn invites us into an in-between space of calm, one that reveals a threshold to remembering. What clues might you uncover in the stillness before all the "doing" must begin?

 A time of expansiveness and exploration to touch upon your soul’s Beauty, to greet the One who longs to be seen. In the quiet, She will enter in.

Of course, there are may ways to experience the sacredness of a moment. 

When day breaks and you return to the world of caregiving,  may those who are in need of your healing touch feel the miracle of your Love.

 ~liz Sorensen Wessel

Watercolor by ~liz

Days 357-358 - The Art of Seeing - A Guest Column

The Art of Seeing - a Reflection by Maria Doglio

“To me the art of seeing is coming into an understanding of the whole of what’s occurring.” 

      --Jane Rosen, Artist

    As an artist, I understand what Jane Rosen means in this quote from an interview with the artist.  This also served as a personal “aha” moment as it summed up my continuing journey towards self-discovery.  To continue this journey I have to practice the art of seeing within for greater understanding of “the whole of what’s occurring.”

  What if we took the “art of seeing” and applied it to all aspects of our lives?  How would this change our world?

   The art of seeing goes beyond using our physical eyes. It encompasses how we feel, our intuition, our experiences, our personality, and our judgments.  I notice that the more I understand the whole - body, mind and spirit – the better I understand myself, others and the world. As I embrace a new way of seeing, I encounter the world in a new and more sacred way.  

   There are as many aspects of  “seeing” as there are people.  The influences of parents, teachers, and life events all color what we perceive and understand.   Perhaps, we too often judge what we see as negative or positive before understanding the whole. 

   The art of seeing unconditionally falls into the realm beyond positive and negative judgment where unconditional love lies. Practicing the art of seeing depends on our understanding of the whole of life on a much deeper level.  It leads us to a better sense of who we really are as we travel our earthly journey.

   If we continue shifting the way we see, our understanding of the whole grows in every aspect of our worldly life.  When we embrace the art of seeing, the art of unconditional love follows naturally and enables the flow in Loving Care.

   It takes conscious practice. Just like art.

 -Maria Doglio

Note: The above painting is by the artist, Maria Doglio

Day 354-356 - Top Five Regrets of the Dying

   A friend forwarded to me observations a caregiver offered in a comment he posted on a weblog. This writing discuss the caregiver's long term experience of listening to the joys and regrets of the dying. His name only appears as "T Kelly." - Erie Chapman

"Top Five Regrets of The Dying

Posted December 1, 2011 By T Kelly 

"For many years I worked in palliative care. My patients were those who had gone home to die…I was with them for the last three to twelve weeks of their lives.  

When questioned about any regrets they had…common themes surfaced again and again. Here are the most common five:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

This was the most common regret of all. When people realize that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honored even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.

…From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realize, until they no longer have it.

2. I wish I didn’t work so hard. 

This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.

By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities….

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.

…When you change the way you are by speaking honestly, in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends. 

Often they would not truly realize the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip... There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.

When you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away…All that remains in the final weeks is love and relationships.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier. 

This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realize until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns…Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to themselves, that they were content when deep within, they longed to laugh and have silliness in their life again.

When you are on your deathbed, what others think of you is a long way from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, long before you are dying."