[he following meditation was written by Karen York. Karen is a Vice President at Nashville's Alive Hospice.]
One of the cornerstones of the work of loving care is the
notion of “presence”. We work toward attaining some sort of balance in our
lives so that while we are in a moment, we are really “in the moment”. We ask caregivers to clear their minds of
schedules and paperwork and other personal burdens so that they can hold the
hand of their patient and provide comfort. We ask them to cultivate quiet time
into their daily lives to refresh their spirits so they are calm in the midst
of chaos. We hope that they remember to play and to laugh and to have fun so
that they are also able to weep with a disconsolate family. But what does it
mean to be in the present?...
How do we fully take in life as it comes at us without
grieving too much over past mistakes or anxiously anticipating what is to
come? We do our best to be prepared for
whatever comes our way, yet we have no idea what the next moment will bring.
Polish poet Wislawa Szymborska* (see photo, above) writes delightfully and
poignantly about the feeling of being unprepared for “now” in Life While You
Wait
Life while you wait.
Performance without rehearsal.
Body without fitting.
Head without reflection.
I don’t know the role I’m playing.
I only know it’s mine, non-convertible.
What the play is about
I must guess only after it’s begun.
Poorly prepared for the dignity of life,
I barely keep up with the pace of the action imposed.
I improvise, though I loathe improvisation.
At every step I stumble over my lack of expertise.
My way of life smacks of provincialism.
My instincts are those of a rank amateur.
Stage fright, although an excuse, is all the more
humiliating.
Extenuating circumstances I perceive as cruel…
If only one Wednesday could be practiced ahead of time,
or if only one Thursday could again be repeated!
But here it is nearly Friday, with a scenario I don’t
know.
Is it fair—I ask
(with hoarseness in my voice,
because I wasn’t even allowed to clear my throat in the
wings).
Illusory is the thought that this is just a pop quiz
Taken on temporary premises. No.
I stand amid the scenery and see how solid it is.
I am struck by the accuracy of all the props.
The revolving state has long been in operation.
Even the most distant nebulae have been switched on.
Ah, I have no doubt that this is opening night.
And whatever I may do
Will be forever changed into that which I have done.
How often do we find ourselves in the midst of life’s
rotation and feel inept to face its mix of challenges and blessings? Sometimes
it seems like life has run us over and we can no longer keep up the pace and
frankly don’t know how to re-engage with what is important. The gravity in the
last stanza of her realization that everything we do has lasting impact could
be enough to cause us to hide in fear.
There is no practice, no dress rehearsal for this thing
called life. We build each day on what we have learned in all the days before.
We plan ahead with the illusion that we have control over the future. Living in
the now means experiencing life as it comes at us. Not in reactive
victimization, but with proactive intention on how to embrace opening night.
That is why I am convinced of importance of self-care. The discipline around
the intention of being a healing presence is what allows us to charge fully
ahead with dignity and grace, anticipating that each moment will somehow affect
all that is eternal.
I invite each of us
to breathe in all that is life giving, and exhale all that saps us of energy. I
invite us to hold each moment for what it is – the mystery of the unknown and
the power to make it all that it could be.
*Wislawa Szymborska is the winner of the 1996 Nobel Prize
for Literature
