Journal of Sacred Work

Days 119-123 - Twenty Milligrams of Love?

   Medicine loves metrics. Twenty milligrams of this drug and ten cubic centimeters of that one dominate treatments and the lives of those who administer them.

   Surgeons calculate to the millimeter. Accountants determine the numbers needed to meet budgets. Executives review patient satisfaction scores. 

   Amid this world of measurement there are many who cannot fathom the value of life's most important energy: Love. For example, in my years of leadership I have been challenged repeatedly to explain the role of compassion.

   Loving care is nice, many say, but how does it fit with a business strategy? One board member once asked me: If you can't measure it, how can it matter?  

   I asked him if he loved his children.

   "Of course," he said.

   "How much do you love them?" I continued.

    "A lot."

   "Can you measure that?" I asked.

   "Of course not," he said. 

   What you cannot measure matters most.

   The peeking child delivers a dose of joy. He carries no hypodermic. 

   How many milligrams of love do you want for your child as she awaits chemotherapy?  How many cubic centimeters of kindness do you wish for your mother the night before surgery? How many liters of compassion causes a patient to love their hospital experience?

   Radical Loving Care calls caregivers to master the hard work of soft skills. True leaders know how to harness Love's energy to transform the medical experience into a sacred encounter. They understand that our humanity thrives in the land beyond measure. 

   Emerson wrote, "In silence we must wrap much of our life, because it is too fine for speech."

   In healing you must let Love flow, because she is too beautiful for calculations.  

-Erie Chapman

Photograph - Erie Chapman

Days 117-118 - The Holiness of Life

-by Liz Sorensen Wessel

It was one of those spontaneous moments when you take a chance and say yes to life. My friend Richard extended an invitation to join his family for dinner. I accepted, unaware of the extraordinary expeirence that awaited us within the inner sanctum of their home.

“Well, we will have to hurry because we need to get there before sundown” Richard said. At this pronouncement we hopped into his ivory, round-back, classic old Volvo. The road hugged the Connecticut River as we wound our way up route 30 towards Townshend, Vermont.

Whew, we arrived just as the sun was beginning to set. Richard’s older brother, Ben and his lovely wife, Jenny greeted us warmly. We gathered to welcome the Sabbath or Shabbat in Hebrew, שַׁבָּת‎. Jenny began by lighting the candles and Ben recited ancient prayers. A freshly baked loaf of Vermont wholesomeness was presented as each person broke off a piece and passed it to another as blessings were lovingly bestowed.

I was a young adult and keeping the Sabbath was completely new to me. I discovered an intimacy and peacefulness in honoring life’s Holiness. Being together in this way was a simple, yet deeply moving experience. We shared a meal within the ease of conversation. After dinner, Ben played his guitar as our voices splayed the evening’s sacred requiem.

It grew late, so we accepted their invitation to sleep over. The guest room was rather unique as it was located out of doors. It was a cold autumn night and the stars sparkled in Morse code upon the velvety sky.

Richard pulled back the flap of an authentic custom made teepee (how Ben made his living.) I was surprised at how large it was in diameter and height. In the center was the hearth and Richard lit a wood fire within a ring of stones. Smoke escaped through the teepee’s opening high above. We both shimmied into our own sleeping bag and soon drifted into sleep.

 The cherished memory lingers, still, after all these years. What is it about rituals that transform the ordinary into something divine?

Rituals enable us to pause to acknowledge, affirm and honor the unseen aspects of our lives that are most meaningful.  These rites help us to reconnect with the sacred thread that underpins all of life; Love.

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Days 112-116 - After Easter - "A Trace of Eternity" & Letting Go

 

"And being dead is hard work/...before one can gradually feel a trace of eternity....But we who have need/ of those great mysteries...could we exist without them?" -Rainer Maria Rilke - the Duino Elegies. 

   

   Easter may well be the dearest of holidays. How can any other celebration surpass the promise that lives in the Resurrection?

   Before that long-ago day life, in many ways, consisted of marching relentlessly towards dark Death's certainty.

   After that day life eternal entered human consciousness.  All the terror of sin found relief in the loving sacrifice of a single being. 

    On the day before the resurrection, all hope was lost. In the days after all hope was gained.

   "Being dead" was (and may still be) "hard work." Life is softened by Jesus' sacrifice. 

   In these days after Easter can you celebrate the power of the resurrection mystery? Could you exist without the light this mystery offers?

   The ill often lose hope. A diagnosis of cancer can kill the will to live - or strengthen it.

   In so many ignored corners of the world, hopeless people crouch horrified by the terrors of life, tortured by the evil spirits of cruelty, pummeled by hunger and thirst.

   The poor suffer in the interstices beyond the comprehension of the healthy and the rich and the well. For them, Jesus is an idea. Suffering is a reality

   Amid the daunting challenges of caregiving you give hope to the hopeless before you. You offer healing to the wounded. 

   After Easter, can you celebrate the raw excitement of knowing that you carry within you Hope's electric energy? Can you feel what Rilke called "those harmonious vibrations which now enrapture/ and comfort and help us?"

   Can you live Easter after Easter?

-Reverend Erie Chapman

Photographs - "Hope" & "Mystery by Erie Chapman

                                                                                      --------

Note: I also offer a startling poem in which you may find further meaning.

LETTING GO

Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of fear.

She let go of judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.
She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.
Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice.

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.
She just let go.
She let go of all the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.
She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.
She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t utter one word.
She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations.
No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing.
Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad.
It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her.

And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.

Here’s to giving ourselves the gift of letting go…

There’s only one guru ~ you.

The author of this poem is unclear.  A few sites list Ernest Holmes as the author, another Jennifer Eckert Bernau

Days 110-111 Transformation

 

 

"Teach only Love for that is what you are." -A Course in Miracles

 Transformation

It happens suddenly. There is a Voice
That speaks one Word, and everything is changed.

You understand an ancient parable
That seemed to be obscure. And yet it meant
Exactly what it said. The trivial
Enlarge in magnitude, while what seemed large
Resumes the littleness that is its due.
The dim grow bright, and what was bright before
Flickers and fades and finally is gone.
All things assume the role that was assigned
Before time was, in ancient harmony
That sings of Heaven in compelling tones
Which wipe away the doubting and the care
All other roles convey. For certainty
Must be of God.

    It happens suddenly,
And all things change. The rhythm of the world
Shifts into concert. What was harsh before
And seemed to speak of death now sings of life,
And joins the chorus to eternity.
Eyes that were blind begin to see, and ears
Long deaf to melody begin to hear.
Into the sudden stillness is reborn
The ancient singing of creation's song,
Long silenced but remembered. By the tomb
The angel stands in shining hopefulness
To give salvation's message: "Be you free,
And stay not here. Go on to Galilee."

(The Gifts of God, p. 64)

Dr. Helen Schucman

 

Contributed by Liz Sorensen Wessel

Photo: Ireland,  2011, from a church that my grandmother frequented in her youth.

Days 105-109 - The Elegance of Sleep

     Sleep rounds the edges of our days if we are lucky enough to hold her hand until dawn. 

     Sleep gives us what we so desperately need - a chance to rest from the weight of caregiving. Each night, we seek to be cradled in her precious lap until the morning light wakes us to celebrate the day. 

     Yet, she can elude us. 

     How often have you awakened at 2:00 a.m. and struggled to return to her kind embrace? But, a clatter of worries destroys your peace. Suddenly, you cannot find your path back to her rounded world. 

     Sleep is so important that we take drugs to find her if she does not come voluntarily. 

     E.H. Chapin captured her value: "What a blessing man acknowledges in sleep, whose soft oblivion makes an island of every day, and breaks the hold of continuous care; that cools the hot brain, and bathes the weary eye-lids, and lets the buffeted and foundering heart cast anchor every night in some harbor of happy dreams."

     There is an elegant truth in sleep, an innocence on our faces when she comes to disarm us. In her presence, we abandon our defenses. Is there anything more precious than the look of a child caught in her arms? 

    Sleep is a truth dance. Isadora Duncan wrote "I have something very pure, a totally white thought...I would like to no longer dance to anything but the rhythm of my soul."

     What is the rhythm of your soul? Listen for it tonight when your soul lives as honestly as it can. Sleep knows no pretension. 

   Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Honor sleep and she will enrich your love.

-Erie Chapman

Photograph: "Rest" -Erie Chapman

Days 103-104 - Grant Us the Courage and Bless Our Pilgrim Hearts

 

A Pilgrim’s Prayer by Sr. Joyce Rupp

 

God of our life, create in us the heart of a pilgrim.

There is a part of us that fights letting go.

Do not allow us to become so rooted or so accustomed to our daily tasks

and inner securities, that we miss your voice

calling us to greater growth and deeper maturity in faith.

God of the journey, I know you are near.

Grant us the courage to change,

whether that change is an inner or outer one.

Deepen our awareness of your faithful presence

And bless our pilgrim hearts

 

Watercolor by Liz Sorensen

 

Days 98-102 - Painting in the Dark

For beauty does not seek its adequate, proportionate level. It is not like water that will find a place to lie flat, or a temperature at which to freeze or boil. It always exceeds the mark; indeed, if it did not, would we even call it beauty? - A.G. Harmon

   Amid playing that odd game called golf a member of my foursome suddenly shouted, "Hey, look at this!" I knew it must be something important for Steve to have broken his laser focus on the game.

   It was.

   Gathered beneath a spray of grass edging a pond (also known as "a water hazard") was a nest holding eight brown eggs. Like a Norman Rockwell painting, we four golfers, putters in hand, leaned forward in silence until the nearby mother goose honked a warning.

   What do you see in this tableau?  Grass, water, a twig-thatched nest. Your eyes gather information. Your mind translates. 

   But, what lies beyond your senses? A photograph tells you what the camera saw. An attentive viewer experiences more.

   Artists and lovers know what their five senses cannot: "It is only with the heart that one can see clearly. What is essential is invisible to the eye." (The Little Prince.) 

   You create your best work "in the dark" because you cannot "see" Love's energy.

   Leonard Cohen wrote eighty verses before paring them down to his immortal song, "Hallelujah." Where did that song come from? Why does it move millions? Neither you nor he "knows."  

   Cognition and intuition - two such different ways of experiencing life as you attend, each day, what a friend of mine calls "Earth School."

   One of earth's best lessons? Change requires humility. Humility triggers the three-step move to transformation: From awareness to acceptance. From acceptance over the bridge to picturing your new life. From that vision to a new life practice. 

   Your senses alone cannot take you to that new life you seek. Only your intuition can lift you to transcendence.

   Next autumn when that signature V wedges the sky, I will imagine that eight of those fliers came from this nest. 

   Meanwhile, listen to Leonard Cohen sing of "a secret chord." (link below.) With eyes closed ask, "What if I painted this song? 

   What has been born in the nest of your meditation?

Download 1-13 Hallelujah

-Erie Chapman 

Days 96-97 Life’s Best Medicine

"Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it." - Bill Cosby

I read the physical therapists report that described Mrs. M as being tearful today, “I have cancer and if that is not enough, now an earthquake. This is just too much.” I picked up the phone and decided to place an outreach call. “Hi Mrs. M, this is Elizabeth, one of the nurse managers from home health. I just thought I would check in with you and see how our services are going?” “Oh, there fine, everyone is very nice.” Well how are you doing? I asked. “I am feeling very cranky today. I am so overwhelmed by everything. I have all these doctor appointments and nurses coming out to see me and the physical therapist, I am just too busy. I am so frustrated I don’t have any time to do things. I haven’t cleaned my house and there are bills that need to be paid. It is all too much.”

She went on to say, “I’m sorry I know I should not be complaining.”  “You are not complaining. It sounds as if you are going through a very difficult time.” I said. Her voice cracked and she became tearful. “I don’t have much help; my step son comes on the w/e to do my grocery shopping. I am very weak and unsteady and you know I live alone. The social worker is supposed to come  tomorrow.”  “Yes, I think she might be able to help you sort through some of this to figure out how best to support you.” 

“Well, my blood count is low so they could not give me chemo this week. I am having this awful pain that shoots down my leg, they call it sciatica.” She proceeded to tell me about the unpleasant side effects she was experiencing from chemo.  “Our medical director will be here this afternoon. He is a pain specialist. Can we call you and see if there is something that might help ease your pain? “Well, I have a new pain medicine but I am not taking it. My friend looked up the side effects and it can make you suicidal.”  Perhaps, that is a potential side effect but it is very rare and it is unlikely that it would affect you that way. Is it okay if we call? I asked. “I am sorry but I am having a bad day and I am not in a good mood.  I’m sorry; I know I shouldn’t be this way. Maybe he could call when I feel more cheerful.”  I responded, “Mrs. M, you have every right to feel the way you do. You are going through a very rough time. He can answer your questions and address these concerns about the new medication.”

“You know I went to my doctor’s office building yesterday and there were big holes in many of the windows. It was a big mess. I figured it was from the earthquake but the nurse told me that some enraged man caused the damage. I don’t know maybe he was frustrated about his care or that of a loved one.” “Oh no, that is terrible, was anyone hurt?” I asked. “No. It happened on the weekend and no one was there. I guess they caught him. He hurled big rocks through a bunch of the windows.” “Thank God, no one was injured”, I replied.

“Wow, I guess there is someone even more frustrated than you!” I exclaimed. At that, she began to laugh, and then she made a silly comment, “Yeah, perhaps, I should call him up and tell him how I feel too.” We laughed and she made another humorous remark as a flood gate of laughter erupted from both of us. We connected. All the sadness, pain, anxiety and the irony was released in a moment of understanding. I felt a shift in her energy as her voice gained a lighter tone. She no longer was crying. It seemed that our encounter was cathartic and therapeutic for both of us.

I am not sure what it is about humor. It can strike at the most inappropriate times; especially when something is not funny and you know you should not laugh. I guess you could just as easily cry. They say laughter is on the other side of tears. Mrs. M agreed to our phone call that afternoon. Yet, intuitively, I knew that our little conversation offered something more healing than any pain medicine  could ever provide.

~liz Sorensen Wessel