Journal of Sacred Work

Day 90 - The Power of Small Talk

When we live surrounded by people, some of the passion and insight natural to us leaks away through the sieve of small talk. -Ardis Whitman

[cartoon from xkcd.com]
   Technology is providing us with ever more easy way to reach each other. Beyond email, texting and cell phones, there is Facebook, My Space, instant messaging and the rapidly expanding Twitter.
   What do we say to each other through this magical new technology? Hang around an airport or a shopping mall or a teenager and you will discover that the most important question seems to have become, "What are you doing?" Based on the responses so easy to imagine from the loud talkers that populate many cell phones, the most popular response must be, "Not much. What are YOU, doing?"
   Of course, small talk matters. Everything we have to say doesn't have to be weighted with deep meaning. Small talk is wonderful if it helps us enrich relationships. It's even more wonderful if it involves a caregiver who is saying something to a patient beyond, "open your mouth," or "take off your clothes and put this on."
   What Ms. Whitman seems to suggest in the quote, above, is that small talk can literally take over our lives so that there is no room left for us to advance the dreams that are most meaningful to us. Several years back, I heard a successful business leader say that we should all write three goals down on a piece of paper and put it in our wallets to be checked frequently. The three goals should be things that we are capable of doing, but which would be somewhat of a reach for us.
   The most important thing he said was, "Do NOT tell anyone your goals." Why the secrecy? There are at least two reasons. The first is that other people naturally tend to dismiss our goals and discourage us in accidental ways that can kill dreams. What do you suppose most people would have said to Barack Obama as little as five years ago if he said he dreamed of being President?
   The second reason is equally telling. Sharing big ideas in their embryonic state can dissipate their energy. The dreams may be stillborn in a swirl of small talk. I have often been amazed by the number of people who describe, particularly in party situations, cool things they are thinking of doing. I routinely heap praise on these folks and then I ask them what sadly turns out to be the killer question: "When are you going to start working on this?" Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the response I see is either a shoulder shrug or a comment from the dreamer who says, "Oh, it was just a thought."
   When other people make big things happen, we like to say, "Well, I could have done that." The question is not whether we can think of the idea but whether we will have the persistence to transcend the small talk and make the dream come alive.   
   The departure from small talk can be dangerous (see Cartoon, above.) I've often been warned by my wife to stay away from religion, politics and any other subject that might be controversial in group settings. Harmony seems to be the watchword. And harmony is lovely just so long as we don't live ALL of our lives seeking to achieve it. The best ideas, the ones that truly help others, are the ones that often sound crazy and controversial at the beginning.
  What others need from us is a certain measure of small talk, and a bigger measure of courage to live the Love that is present around us every moment.
   How do we avoid letting small talk dominate our lives and dissipate our dreams?

-Erie Chapman

Day 89 - Living Differently

We are called to see differently - and then to live differently.  - Rev. Dr. Sallie McFague (below)

    Debbie, a nurse herself, lay writhing in pain in her car only a few feet from the entrance to a Nashville hospital E.R. Her husband dashed inside and called to a nurse to bring a wheelchair. "My wife is a nurse and she thinks she's dying," the husband called out.
   As the nurse started toward the E.R. door with a wheelchair, another nurse intervened. "No wheelchairs outside the E.R.," the second nurse commanded. "Rules are rules."
   "But my wife is right there and she can't walk," the husband pleaded, pointing to his spouse in a car that suddenly seemed miles away.
   It was one of those moments where humanity teetered in the balance. We have all heard these stories and shake our heads in wonder at the cold-hearted (though perhaps well meaning) nonsense of slavish adherence to rules.
   Systems command us to live by laws. Humanity often calls us to "see differently" and then to "live differently." Hospitals, hospices, nursing homes and charities that are run by control freaks seem to want everyone to "see" the same way. Since some rules are, in fact, necessary for safe operation and justice, how are we to know when to break a rule and when to follow it?
   The right way to live in a rule-oriented society is simple to describe but can be hard to live - as hard as it is to live Love or to be a Christian. Follow rules when they will advance Loving care. Break them when they don't. And then find the courage to endure the consequences that come from living differently. Heroes like Martin Luther King, Gandhi, and Jesus have shown us the way.
   None of us are wise enough to make the right call every time. If we listen to Love, we will find the right pathway. It can be very hard to live differently, to be the one who follows the call of the heart amid others who are hiding behind rules.
   Fortunately for Debbie, the original nurse glared at the rule-conscious one and said, "I don't care what the rule says, I'm going to help that woman in pain."
   If only every one of these stories turned out like this.
   How can we create cultures where more of us know when to follow the rule and when to ignore it? How can we find the courage to "live differently?"

-Erie Chapman

Days 86-88 - Open Forum for Caregivers

These are open forum days for caregivers. Please share your thoughts on any subject affecting caregiving by clicking on Comments, below.
Thank you.
Erie

Day 85 - Woven Together by Love

Today's meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice-President for the Baptist Healing Trust.

A recurring theme has emerged like weeds in a garden, finding its way into scientific exploration, leadership development, healthcare, social change, and environmental protection: replace what is broken, create the better product, rethink the programming, reprogram the thinking,  refit the body, recharge the battery. Our very language exposes our beliefs that all is mere machinery and that with a little tweaking here or there we can expand the potential for a few more miles, a few more days, a few more turns on the dial. When we are slowed by a steep climb or a heavy load, we press harder and look for ways to control the results so they meet our desires. For some the inability to control turns into fear and anger, for others melancholy and sometimes despair sets in.

Decades ago we began to envision ourselves and our work as mechanistic – something controllable – and in the process we lost sight of spirit, passion, compassion, love, those qualities that no machine can ever possess. We put on the masks of doing-well, high-performance, quality-control, focused-output, and precise-efficiency all in the name of organizational commitment. And when those with whom we work fail to respond as we wish, the problem becomes their lack of motivation or sense of responsibility, or obstinacy, rebellion, laziness, or selfishness. We, when honest in self-reflection, so easily begin then to look to someone else or something else that can just fix those problems!

Scholar Margaret Wheatley asks the question “Are expectations of machinelike obedience and regularity even appropriate when working together?” It seems we have lost sight of our very humanity and the intricate, interwoven, connectedness that we are and must be in our human being-ness. We hear cries for change, justice, and even peace but somehow look to others to brings those things about, hoping they can occur with no cost to our selves.

We seem to be in denial of what is a real interconnectedness, believing that what happens to a child in a small hovel half a world away does not threaten me or my children. Our recent economic waves around the world suggest we are more interconnected than we perhaps want to admit. The homeless man we pass on the street is our brother, the quiet elder sitting in the waiting room is our mother, the hungry child looking through wide eyes captured in a moment’s snapshot is our child.

It takes great authenticity and integrity to live from the core and substance of spirit, passion, compassion, and love that makes us human, to live interconnected, woven together by Love. Fear holds us back, keeps us from speaking up or reaching out, but what is it we fear we might lose? What do we fear might happen (or not happen)? What keeps us from reaching across the table to make contact with a gentle touch? Why do we let silence grow into an icy gulf when one softly spoken word of concern would bridge the gap? It takes courage to love boldly; it takes perseverance to love broadly. Love connects us, but fear can break its strands. What keeps you connected to others through Love’s healing force?

Day 84 - Compassion for Shadowed Lives

"And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all." - poet Ted Hughes (below, with wife Sylvia Plath) in a letter to his adult son Nicholas Hughes, whose mother, poet Sylvia Plath, committed suicide when Nicolas was nine months old.

   We never know how much courage it takes for some to live at all, much less to live boldly. When the news was released on March 23 that Sylvia's son Nicholas had, himself, committed suicide at the age of 47, so many must have thought to themselves, "Ah, just like his mother." 

   The causes of suicide are always more complex than our pat explanations can penetrate. We are often quick to judge. It is harder to try and understand the darkness that shadows the days of some among us. This is true in spite of modern drugs that have eased the pain of many, but not all.

   Ted Hughes wanted his son to live not only boldly but courageously - to risk the hurts of being humiliated or embarrassed. But we cannot program the lives of others. All we can due is try to understand and, in our understanding, to withhold any judgment. Life is so hard for so many. Some of us hang on, some of us find it easy to do so. And others simply cannot make it. For those, we need to reach into our hearts and find compassion and love.

   So many of us travel dark passages. It is then that suicide may cross our minds. Disappearing can sometimes seem like not only the safer path but the more loving one. After all, if we imagine we are just trouble to others, why not leave? This is, of course, an illusion since suicide rarely, if ever, makes things better (the suicide of Hitler would be a rare exception.)

   The vast majority of us strive to save our lives and those of others, not to take them. As we find our own sunlight, may we not forget to love those who may be living in shadows.

   Shortly before taking her life at age 30, Sylvia Plath wrote, "I shall never grow old." Sadly, she seems to have influenced the length of her son's life as well. Today, I mourn for both of them and for all those who find it so hard to find Love in this world that they choose to exit early. Here is something Plath wrote shortly before she took her own early departure from this earth:

I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.
I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

   How can we best help others through times of melancholy?

-Erie Chapman

Day 83 - The Golden Thread of Faith

All existence seemed to beat with a lower pulse than her own, and her religious faith was a solitary cry, the struggle out of a nightmare...  - George Eliot, Middlemarch

   George Eliot (1819-1880) wrote in a time when women writers were so disdained that Eliot (nee Mary Ann Evans) had to adopt a male identity in order to be published. She must have often felt like her character, Dorothea, bereft and discouraged with only her faith to sustain her.
   When my friend Rhonda was undergoing the horror of chemotherapy (for two different kinds of cancer) she tried to describe to me the loneliness of this kind of agony. "When life drags you down that far, you feel worse than s--- there is no one there for you. It's then that you discover it's just you and God."
   Exhausted caregivers may sometimes feel the same way. In the solitary hours of the night shift, with too many patients and too little staff, or in the middle of a hard day, the golden thread of faith may feel frayed.
   Ancient Greeks thought of the body as being pulled toward the ground. The only connection to God, they believed, ran along a slender thread that extended from their hearts to the heavens.
   We imagine friends and family as real and God as intangible. After all, in the middle of our darkness, how can God give us a hug? Yet, the presence of God is the only unconditional Love we may know. God is pure Love and attaches no conditions. God is present to us. Are we present to God?
   Is this Love enough for you when you have lost hope? How do you sustain the thread of your connection to God when life seems empty?

-Erie Chapman

Day 82 - Memories of Waves & Work

A man, yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,...
   -Walt Whitman (1819-1892) from "I Sign The Body Electric"

    I grew up, like some of our readers, near the Pacific, "throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves" and now have the great chance to do the same, once again. This time it is by the Atlantic, where I encounter the waves with my tiny granddaughter and wonder what storms she will meet.
   Most caregivers live their careers between the coasts, confronting and healing the waves of pain that wash over others. Along the way, I wonder how many of us pause to reflect upon our memories of work?
   Each of us lives so much of our lives in the middle of our jobs rather than at home. When our work nears its end or reaches it, what will you remember? Will you recall the joys of working alongside friends? Which patients will stand out in your recollection?
   When I was a little boy playing by the ocean, I dreamed of one day doing important things. What I think of as important now is different from what I conjured in my boyhood imagination. As Whitman writes:

   From those beginning notes of yearning and love there in
      the mist,
   From the thousand responses of my heart never to cease,...
   From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
   From such as now they start the scene revisiting,..

   Behind closed eyes I am easily able to revisit my first days as a hospital leader. I can see the associate nursing director, Marian Hamm, who remains my friend to this day, greeting me in a hallway at Riverside Hospital in 1975.
   Now, in the blink of an eye, she is seventy-five years old. What Marian and I discuss is not the daily census or staff morale. Instead, we reminisce - about challenges we dealt with in two different hospital settings; about characters who amazed us with their odd behavior; about battles with doctors; about disputes within staff and various scandals; about how we handled several different emergencies.
   Most of all, we revel in the fact that, for a time, we had the chance to influence the lives of others for the better. We had the opportunity to build cultures of loving care. I am so grateful we took that chance.
   One day, if you are lucky, you will have the time to reflect on your confrontations with the waves. 
   Meanwhile, as Whitman wrote,

   I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,... A reminiscence sing.

   What do you think you will remember most about your work life?

-Erie Chapman

With my two sisters on the beach at Santa Monica, circa 1950

Days 79-81 - Keeping Our Humanity in Techo-World

   In the midst of my usual morning exercise, I saw the last part of The Stepford Wives (the 2004 version based on the book of the same name by Ira Levin) on television. Although this movie remake got mixed reviews, there is no way to overestimate the power of the core story. Its message rings as true as books with similar themes like Brave New World and 1984. The world of technology and money where the efficiency of first line workers is often valued over their humanity is a theme even more chilling in this century than it was in the past.
   The Stepford Wives posits a community in which married women are reshaped as robots, designed with "perfect" measurements, and programmed to do whatever their selfish husbands wish.
   It's not too difficult to imagine a parallel movie in which power hungry hospital bosses might acquire the power to program their employees? What would they do?
   How do we, as caregivers, preserve and protect each other's humanity while simultaneously striving for efficiency and  what some call "perfect" care? Some leaders adopt programs that promise efficiency by forcing employees to follow rigid protocols in an unquestioning way. These CEO's dream of Stepford Caregivers. Should their wish be granted, patients would be doomed to an efficiency as sterile and heartless as the environment in the movie.
   Life refuses to deliver such perfection (thank God.) Instead, we are challenged to deal with a world where mistakes occur, people cry, and tempers are sometimes lost.
   How do you preserve your humanity when confronted with pressures to conform?

-Erie Chapman

Day 78 - Everyday Ephinanies

Today's meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice-President for the Baptist Healing Trust.

"Today a new sun has risen. Everything lives. Everything can speak to your soul passionately if you will be still enough to listen." - Sarah Ban Breathnach.

     His face lights up as he catches sight of one he loves deeply, his laughter swells to a gentle roar from somewhere deep within. His hands and face are a bit chubby, and when he smiles his eyes disappear somewhere far into crinkled creases of delight. At times he sits quietly and seems to comtemplate the universe; then suddenly, at unexpected moments, flashes of boundless energy propel him into unfettered expressions of sheer joy and delight. He brings all of himself into his work of the day. He seems to understand what really matters. He is a sage about love, knowing and conveying that what matters most is relationship.

     Some believe what we do inside relationships matters more than any other aspect of human life. Within relationship the value and practice of love as a shared and positive value is central, whether the relationship is familial, neighborly, or within an organization among leaders and followers. That shared love results in a desire to reach toward the other, to meet needs in other whether physical, emotional, or spiritual.

     Our very being is the result of relationship, yet as author Walker Percy once wrote: "modern man is estranged from being, from his own being, from the being of other creators in the worlds, from transcendent being. He has lost something, what he does not know; he knows only that he is sick unto death with the loss of it." One of the most famous elegies written - Elegy in a Country Churchyard - was penned by the English poet Thomas Gray as he wandered among the headstones of a graveyard one evening, considering the meaning of life and its toils. He apparently decided that life doesn't make much difference: simple joys are forever gone, destiny lost. "For them no more the blazing heart shall burn/Or busy housewife ply her evening care...the paths of glory lead but to the grave." His words of mourning are for those who have slipped through life unnoticed and unappreciated. His words seem to mourn the loss of what is essential in life, Love borne through relationships and moments of beauty.

     Somedays we seem more capable of capturing the beauty of the moment, other days we pass as if in a fog and often in frenzy - stealing time, making time, taking time - when time is here and all around us. And somedays, like the sage of love, we fall headfirst into the delight of relationship, shared moments in time. Sarah Ban Breathnach calls such moments of beauty and awareness, like those experienced by that sage of love whose face called this meditation into being, "everyday ephinanies." What grace and thanksgiving we can share in the sighting of a familiar and loved face, a warm embrace, a wonder-filled sunset, or like my little sage, the joy of a game of hide-and-seek (which 16-month olds seem so to love!).

     Love invites us to cherish relationships - all relationships - and especially among those whose needs we move to meet. We are so fortunate to be called into this sacred work. Will we cherish the relationship we find there? Will we let Love engage us in a laughter-filled game of hide-and-seek? 1, 2, 3, here Love comes, ready or not!

 

Day 77 - Bidding for Relationships

[The following meditation was written by Rev. Jerald Smith, Chaplain at Parrish Medical Center in Titusville, Florida]

“Through some moment of beauty or pain, some sudden turning of our lives, we catch glimmers of at least what the saints are blinded by…” (Frederick Buechner, Listening To Your Life, p. 169) 

 

My first experience at an auction was as a boy at the Bradford County fair in Starke, Florida. The auctioneer was selling steers that had been raised by kids in the Future Farmers of America (FFA). I remember thinking how foreign the language sounded and wondering how anyone could spit words out so quickly. He called for bids, acknowledged bids and challenged the bidders to ante up higher and higher until he said “Sold!”

 

In their book, The Relationship Cure , authors John Gottman and Joan DeClaire talk about relational bids. These are efforts to connect with others. We all make them, these bids, with a look, a smile, a greeting or a comment that invites others to connect with us. Dr. Gottman speaks about three possible responses to bids and the differences those responses can make in a relationship. Take the simple question, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”  Turning toward looks like this. “I’d love to, thanks.” Or, “That’s a nice invitation, but I can’t. I have to get home to my boyfriend.” Turning away is illustrated by, “No. Sorry, I’m busy.” And turning against by, “No, I’m cleaning the lint out of my dryer tonight.”(p. 55)

 

The different responses show varying levels of regard toward the other. Turning toward shows a highly positive regard. Turning away is less positive and bordering on indifference. Turning against is negative and moving toward hostility.

 

Dr. Gottman’s research with hundreds of married couples revealed that in couples headed for divorce, men turned away or against their spouse’s bids 82% of the time and women did so 50% of the time. In happily married couples the numbers were 19% of the time for men and 14% of the time for women (p. 4). Dr. Gottman observed that when people received consistently negative responses to their bids, they quickly gave up trying and the relationship deteriorated rapidly.

 

This bidding process doesn’t just happen between couples. We make bids and receive bids from co-workers too. Patients bid for caregivers’ attention with call lights, questions and facial expressions.

 

Right now, somewhere, someone is making a bid to you, bidding for your attention or care. Which response will you choose?

Day 76 - Why God is Love, Not Fear

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7). There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment.” (1 John 4:18).

    As a small child I sat in church and wondered what God looked like. Similar to millions of kids, I assumed God must be some kind of giant possessed of every possible magic power. A friend of mine grew up thinking God was probably the Civil War general memorialized in a giant statue in the town square. When you don't have an answer, the temptation is to fill in the void with whatever images come to mind. In the case of kids, this can be very scary. It's  amazing how many adults still retain an image of God not dissimilar from Michelangelo's painting [detail - above]. As adults, I suppose it's time for us to put aside our childish impressions and begin to respect God as a great and loving energy.
   But children don't know about this. As a child, it was clear to me and the other little kids that God was all powerful and he had a temper. If I crossed up God I was pretty sure I would end up vaporized by the kinds of ray guns I saw on Flash Gordon.  

   Fear is a terrible thing. I know of no more toxic human feeling. Fear is the father of anger, anxiety, resentment and revenge. There is rarely anything good that comes from fear. Our primitive instinct to run when chased by something threatening is just that - a primitive instinct. The better angels of our nature urge us to act from Love to save life, not from fear.
   I suppose it's not surprising that early Jews, and many Christians, wanted to create a "hellfire and damnation" God. They were seeking to create order so that their civilization might flourish. Fear is the quickest, though not the best, way to bring the errant into line. But, careful reading of the entire Bible reflects a larger truth. I do not believe we are called to fear God. Instead, we are asked to treat God (Love) with respect - to to honor what Love offers us and asks of us.
   The truth is, fear is out of place in a culture of loving care. Enlightened members of all faiths understand that the highest human motivations come from Love and the worst are born from fear. The best leaders engage Love's energy and avoid fear tactics. This is the kind of environment that every caregiver seeks. Loving cultures always deliver the best patient care.
   The best reason for giving the right medications is because we love others and want to heal. The worst reason to give the right medication is because we are afraid for ourselves - that we will be punished by a supervisor or be sued by an injured patient.
   So what about fear? What do you think? Does fear have a place in healing environments?

-Erie Chapman

Day 75 - The Charter for Compassion

"The Charter will show that the voice of negativity and violence so often associated with religion is the minority and that the voice of compassion is the majority." - from the website: www.charterforcompasion.org (If you go to this website, be sure and click on a lovely 3 1/2 minute video featuring Karen Armstrong.)
"We do not live in a compassionate society," says Karen Armstrong, a former Catholic nun and member of the Council of Conscience for the Charter of Compassion. Armstrong talks of speaking to numerous religious groups about the need for compassion and often noticing both resentment and resistance. People don't want to accept the imperative to live compassionately, she says, because compassionate living is hard work.                     

   Compassionate living steals from fundamentalists their ability to trumpet their version of faith as the only true way. The notion that a particular denomination or religious pathway is the only avenue to God is, she says, a deep sign of egotism.
   This sounds true to me. I have stood before so many audiences to speak of Love and compassion. The beginning is always easy. Everyone agrees that Love sounds like a good thing. But, as soon as I speak of engaging Love in the workplace, I see arms begin to cross over chests (as if to protect the heart) and executives (particularly male ones) begin to squirm.
   Compassionate living requires that senior executives and middle managers cede power and arrogance and yield to humility and loving service.
   "Compassion is hard work," Armstrong says. She's right, of course. This is why she said on Bill Moyers Journal on PBS that we need an organized initiative to engage this critical work.
   Do you live each day in a compassionate workplace? I don't mean to you see occasional acts of compassion. I mean do you think of the culture where you work as being one that is primarily informed by compassion grounded in Love?
   What I hear from too many health care workers is that they live in cultures dominated by the god of  technology and driven by ferocious  budget pressures. There is obviously a place for technology and money in charity service. But these twin gods must always be subordinate to Love, not the other way around.
   It is startling to hear how often most of us confuse compassion with pity. In many ways, they are opposites. A saying I have quoted here before goes, "Pity stops and stares. Compassion stoops and shares." Compassion is about imagining ourselves into the needs of the other. It is about living the essence of The Golden Rule. And we all know how hard that it.
   If we, as Armstrong says, "do not live in a compassionate society" than how can we change that? What can we do in each of our workplaces to help make compassionate behavior the norm rather than the exception?

-Erie Chapman   

P.S. On a personal note, today would have been my father's 104th birthday. I celebrate Erie D. Chapman, Jr., as a leader of great integrity who lived his entire career with the Y.M.C.A. and lived the creed of the "Y" in every aspect of his life.

Days 72-74 - Crisis Learning

"A crisis is a terrible thing to waste." - NPR commentator

   Everyone is always telling us how much we can learn in hard times. Of course, none of wants to endure the pain of this period with so many out of work, losing their homes, and having their cars repossessed.
   Where's the learning for caregivers? What do you think?

Day 71 - Silence as Sabbath

Today's meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice-President for the Baptist Healing Trust.

"I have often repented of having spoken, but never of having kept silent" - Arsenius, early Christian Desert Father.

Not too many weeks ago the sweet respite of silence came to me as a gift on a weekend retreat. Many who know me well were astonished that I would knowingly and then capably enter into extended silence (it seems the gift of gab is written into my DNA and there is usually music playing in my office/car/home). Nevertheless, the experience of silence on that weekend retreat was not only welcomed by my heart and mind but relished in my soul.

Wayne Muller, author of a gentle yet firm encouragement to practice Sabbath, speaks of silence with words shared with you here today in a piece simply titled Silence: 

"When Eugene Peterson served as pastor of a church in Maryland, he took his Sabbath on Monday. He and his wife regularly packed lunches and binoculars into their backpacks, and drove a short way to a trailhead that meandered along a river or into the mountains. Before they began the hike, they would read a psalm, and then pray. After that, they hiked in complete silence for the next two or three hours, until they stopped for lunch. "We walk leisurely,' he writes, 'emptying ourselves, opening oruselves to what is there: fern shapes, flower fragrances, bird-song, granite outcropping, oaks, and sycamores, rain, snow, sleet, wind.' And when it was time for lunch, they broke the silence with a prayer of blessing for the food, the river, the forest. Then, free to talk, they shared their bird sightings, observations, feelings, and thoughts."

"This kind of silence alters perception," continues Muller. "We see differently in silence, when we are not expected to comment, analyze, or respond. The Buddhist precept of Right Speech includes the concept of refraining from speaking words that are not absolutely necessary. Things find their way deeper into our body when we are not in such a hurry to spit them back out."

"Things are born in quiet that cannot be heard in the din of our overly verbal days. Sabbath time," suggets Muller, "is enriched by some period of intentional silence." What might emerge in your life today during a period of intentional silence? Try taking a few minutes on a walk, sitting in your office or car, and just be silent. Notice what arises in that silence - perhaps an impulse to speak, to judge, to respond to what you see, hear, feel. Silence can be a place of sweet and genuine sanctuary in time, if we are but willing to go there.

Day 70 - Forgiveness & The Problem of Pain

 "But forgiveness needs to be accepted as well as offered if it is to be complete: and a man [sic] who admits no guilt can accept no forgiveness."  - C.S. Lewis - The Problem of Pain

    I wonder when you have had the experience of offering forgiveness and discovering that it was rejected? Perhaps, you have done the same in reverse. Someone has offered you forgiveness and you responded with, "Thanks, but I don't really think I deserve it."

   Forgiveness truly works in a circle. What is most startling, however, is the impact forgiveness has on the forgiver even when the circle is not complete. There is a Buddhist saying that goes, "Holding onto anger is like grasping is like grabbing a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned." 

   Anger, resentment, and revenge no matter how justified, are each hot coals that burn the holder. Two organizations are seeking to expand our understanding of the power of love and forgiveness. One is the Fetzer Institute which has launched what they call The Campaign for Love and Forgiveness. The other is a British organization found at www.theforgivenessproject.com. If you explore either site, what you will discover there are some astounding stories of the power of forgiveness. Told there, are sagas of women and men who have been brutalized by others, have carried the scar of the brutalization, and then discovered they were carrying a second, even heavier wound - the burden of anger and resentment. In each case, when they found the strength to forgive and let go, they were stunned by how much better they felt.

   Any kind of abuse is painful. What's surprising, perhaps, is the relief that comes when we let go our inclination to seek revenge. Contrary to the belief of many. Letting go of righteous anger does not mean letting go of justice.

   What do you think about this? Does it make sense? How might this affect your life as a caregiver?

-Erie Chapman

Day 69 - The Problem of Pain - Judgment

   "The boss wants to see you." "The committee will meet and review you." "The jury will retire to deliberate." "You need to go to the principal's office." "Wait until your father gets home." "The doctor wants to talk with you."

   Every one of the above sentences creates its own kind of pain. I've felt every one of these sentences and each has marked my spirit in its own way.

   As a kid, I made endless trips to the principal's office and spent lots of time in halls outside class and in detention throughout my school years, banished there by a long line of teachers who had lost patience with me. Elementary school, indeed, school in general, is designed for people who like to color inside the lines. That wasn't (and isn't) my gift. So, early on, I decided there was a way to free myself from such tough judgments.  I needed to learn how to perform well in a wide variety of areas. I thought, naively, that when I had finally gotten enough schooling, collected enough degrees, held enough big jobs, been on enough boards, learned how to do enough different things, knew enough of the "right" people, had enough money, had a corner office...that finally I would be accepted, that somehow I would not need to keep proving myself.
   Of course, I was mistaken.  
   There is no such thing as to live in society and not experience an endless pattern of judgment from those who we allow to have the keys to various doors we think lead to happiness, peace and safety. Even, for me, the process of joining a new church has required that I win approval. As for the process of ordination? Well....
   I know the obvious part. Civilization is, after all, founded in laws and rules. I'm a lawyer and a former judge. I know about this. We can't just let people into the various rooms of our lives without requiring some evidence of competence and some sign of integrity, can we? I guess not. But, I wonder when the time comes for suspending judgment and just accepting, on faith, that the person before us is fundamentally good, even divine?

   What scars might have been, and might be, avoided if kids like me encountered teachers and principals who approached us with understanding and compassion instead of with pre-judgment and condemnation?
   I understand that the recent deluge of trouble from Wall Street suggests that some people received too much trust. Yet, does this sense of distrust grounded in greed need to infiltrate the lives of all of us doing charity work, breeding suspicion from seeds of fear?
   The harsh judgment of others can be a source of great pain for so many. The harsh judgment we direct against ourselves is far worse. One kind of judgment we can manage. The other we cannot.
   One reason so many supervisors working in healthcare have adopted harsh tones is because they have grown up receiving the same thing. And that is the point of this essay. Perhaps, we all need to take a two-part look in the mirror. In part one, we need to ease up on judging ourselves so harshly. In the second part, we need to see if there are other ways we can communicate our feelings about others, using understanding and compassion along with the other elements of Love, accountability and respect. But, then, am I sounding too judgmental?
   Whatever the question, Love is the answer. What do you think?

-Erie Chapman

Day 68 - The Problem of Pain & Silent Light

"[The] signature on each soul may be a product of heredity and environment, but that only means that heredity and environment are among the instruments whereby God creates a soul."  C.S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain

   What are the other instruments through which Love marks and shapes our soul? Through his writing, C.S. Lewis found many ways to expand our sense of the meaning of pain.
   I thought of Lewis during the first, startling, dialogue-free fifteen minutes of a film that is unlike anything I've every experienced. And I thought about it again as I traveled for two hours and fifteen minutes in the world of a Mennonite community in Mexico that serves as the setting for a rare and remarkable film experience called Silent Light (Stellet licht).

   Long after leaving the theater, this film still infiltrates my consciousness. As a veteran of thousands of films, I know this one will stay with me. It has signed its name into my soul. How many films reach us in such a way?
   Writer/Director Carlos Reygadas is the one responsible for creating the masterpiece of Silent Light. To have any chance of appreciating the way the creator of this film invites Love into our souls, you will need to let go of any other experience you've had at the movies. I can't imagine any American filmmaker creating such a piece.  
   The minimum dialogue in this film (not unlike Ingmar Bergman's work) mark it as the opposite of an action movie. since I am self-trained as a still photographer, I am fascinated by the impact of Reygadas filming technique and the impact it has on our sense of presence to the world. Instead of the dozens of quick cuts per minute in typical cinema, Reygadas allows his camera to stay fixed for long moments as characters enter and leave the frame. Sometimes, the camera remains aimed at a chair as we hear the characters off camera. Sometimes, we only see the tops of a group of character's heads. Reygadas changes the way we see and hear.
   I doubt if I'm describing the experience of this film very well. Most likely, you might be thinking, Why would I want to sit through such a thing? If you choose to, you will be rewarded with something unforgettable.
   Those of us blessed with vision sometimes imagine what it would be like to be blind. We marvel at the hearing acuity of those without sight. Yet, you probably know that the hearing of blind people is, physiologically, no different than the rest of us. What creates the sense of difference is the ability of blind people to be present to their senses!
   This is what Reygadas does for us in Silent Light. At the opening, we hear a cacophony of cicadas and experience the arrival of dawn in real time. Those who keep expecting gunshots or car chases will immediately wonder, Where's the action? We're so accustomed to movie directors playing to our impatience that the several minute experience of watching the sun rise on screen in real time becomes unbelievable and astounding.

   Throughout Silent Light, we hear crickets saw, flies buzz, boots squeak through snow, chairs move, cows groan, farm machinery roar, doors clothes, floors whine and the astonishing thwap (there's no word I know for this) of buttons being undone. The reason we hear all of this is not only that the volume may be up on these sounds, but because Reygados begins to signal to us something we may have forgotten: These are the sounds of life. There are no gunfights here. No bombs exploding or secret agents driving by in sleek cars.

   And the movie, for me, was riveting.  

   I imagined the day/night role of caregivers as I watched this Silent Light. I saw you sitting by a bedside writing on your chart or typing into your computer; the soft clicks on the keyboard, the sound of your shoes as you enter a room, the exchange of voices down the hall, the ebb and flow of ventilators, the beeping of monitors interrupted with occasional alarms that are so often false. The sound of a human heart beating through your stethoscope
   What does it mean to be present to such sounds? It seems to have something to do with Lewis' notion about pain. Silent Light shows us the ancient love triangle with all of its pain, joy and peculiar result. Yet you may feel that you have never seen a love triangle that plays out like this one.

   For caregivers, the third party in your Love triangle may well be the patient who is before you at the moment, drawing your heart away from someone else. Work can be, for some, as demanding as any lover. 

   The other film I recommend to you from this weekend's movie experience is called Two Lovers. There's plenty about the problem of pain in this film as well - particularly as it is realized through the wrenching performance of Joaquin Phoenix in the lead role. The Academy might as well give Phoenix the Oscar right now.
   Some people go to the movies to escape. I like to watch episodes of Seinfeld for the same reason. If you're looking for a deeper experience, take yourself to the local art theater and see both of these films. They will tell you as much about the problem of pain as any two hours attending to the needs of your patients. And after you see either or both of these movies, you will be even more in touch with Love's power. These two movies may change how you hear the world. If they do, they will mark your soul.
   Let us know what you think?

-Erie Chapman

Days 65-67 - Face to Face Meetings?

   It's hard to write a poem, a play, a situation comedy, or a contemporary movie screenplay today without including a cell phone. Face-to-face conversation, even for caregivers with patients, has a whole new set of distractions. In person encounters now require that we compete with not only cell phones but texting, instant messaging and the incessant noise of others doing the same at nearby chairs and tables. How are we to sustain presence in the presence of such clatter?
   Knowing of my concern over this my longtime friend, Emily Fluhrer, who lives in Greenville, South Carolina, sent me this poem which I pass on to you.

Bridal Shower

by George Bilgere

Perhaps, in a distant café,
four or five people are talking
with the four or five people
who are chatting on their cell phones this morning
in my favorite café.

And perhaps someone there,
someone like me, is watching them as they frown,
or smile, or shrug
at their invisible friends or lovers,
jabbing the air for emphasis.

And, like me, he misses the old days,
when talking to yourself
meant you were crazy,
back when being crazy was a big deal,
not just an acronym
or something you could take a pill for.

I liked it
when people who were talking to themselves
might actually have been talking to God
or an angel.
You respected people like that.

You didn't want to kill them,
as I want to kill the woman at the next table
with the little blue light on her ear
who has been telling the emptiness in front of her
about her daughter's bridal shower
in astonishing detail
for the past thirty minutes.

O person like me,
phoneless in your distant café,
I wish we could meet to discuss this,
and perhaps you would help me
murder this woman on her cell phone,

after which we could have a cup of coffee,
maybe a bagel, and talk to each other,
face to face.

Day 64 - The Imperative of Rest

Today's meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice President for the Baptist Healing Trust.

 "Silence is the fabric upon which the notes are woven" - Lawrence Duncan.

        Rest seems as important a part of the arts as the work of the brush or the focusing of a lens. It's been said in music the pause is as important as the note. To rest is certainly an imperative for leader and caregiver alike, yet it is the most often overlooked vital element of sacred work and Love that is radical. A scholar in the field of leadership has recently asserted that the average number of daily work hours for Americans has increased by 14.5% over the past years, although many have voiced a perception that the increase seems much larger! For American leaders, that figure has risen an additional 22% resulting in an average working week of almost 60 hours (G.Thornton, 2008). We are a hard working people, but what about time of not-working, a time to re-create?

     Rest is often defined as a cessation of energy-requiring activity allowing for physical and mental renewal and revitalization. My personal physician, Dr. John Thompson, commented this week that rest and sleep are the opportunity for our bodies and mind to hit the "reset" button - at least, he mused, when we experience "good" rest and sleep. It seems in our quest for job security, profit margins, market share, recognition, productivity - or even from a stoic determination that believes it can meet every need - our psyches have become compelling engines that continue their incessant drone even when our eyes have closed and our consciousness has let go its tight grip on mind and heart: we should, we must work without ceasing and, often, without joy. Somehow, in some way, taking time for rest has become associated with weakness, low commitment, or misplaced loyalty. I hear and see that deceptive voice echoed in the lives of caregivers every day.

     Maybe it is time to redefine success. I love the metaphor of the winemaker and the first cup as a reminder to take care of myself in ways that make it possible to be Love in this world. According to the winemaker, no matter how carefully the juice is filtered, small bits of grape pulp or skin find their way through into the bottle of what will become a sweet wine. These small bits and pieces are referred to as the "dregs." Although most would not be able to distinguish the difference between the first cup of wine that is later poured and the last cup that comes from the bottom of the bottle, connnoisseurs are adamant that the first cup is the sweetest. The wine that comes from that place where the dregs have been is more bitter.

     It seems so many of us give from the dregs, with little rest, revitalization, re-creation in our lives. Those who receive our care may not know, but we know - when we are honest - that often what we give is not first cup. To pause, to ponder a happy distraction or a compelling film - time to rest, to revitalize, to re-create - can this become an imperative? Are you willing to give of your first cup? Love asks no less and welcomes us to that place.

    

Day 63 - Poetry & Presence

    

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility - e.e. cummings

The advent of email and texting causes lots of us to write in lower case letters. For the great 20th century poet e.e. cummings (above & below, 1894-1962) lower case writing, including the way he wrote his name, was a signature element of his radical style. For cummings, poetry needed to be straight forward, passionate and free from the the forms of ordinary grammar and punctuation. He wanted to provoke and startle us toward poetry as well as to paint his idea of the divine.
   At the time of his passing, cummings was the second most popular poet in America (after Robert Frost.) For me, a fine example of cummings' gifts is seen inthe power of the poem below. This passionate man had a seering ability to bring us face to face with a particularly powerful kind of presence.
   To appreciate this poem, we are asked to let go of traditional grammar rules including word placement, punctuation and spelling, so that we can experience the rhythm and flow of Love's beauty in all her glory.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,my
steriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands.

How does your heart experience cummings poem at this moment in your life? 
How does it inform your caregiving experience?

-Erie Chapman