August Break :: Handwriting

Sometimes, when awake in the early hours, I'll start my journal page with a quote.

Grinning with a shrug because my handwriting can be hard to decipher at times, even for me. 

I can type so much faster so unless I'm really concentrating (and feeling patient) or wanting it 

to look nice, long gone are the days of beautiful penmanship.

'sides, she adds with a mischievous twinkle, with so many fonts out there?  

I enjoy playing that way. 

😉

 #augustbreak2016

.              *               .

Everyday Beauty :: Something in My Hand

There's something very healing for me about taking an almost daily, "everyday" type photo.

I'm finding that it gently affirms for me that it really is ok to show up in my own life, notice 

the goodness and beauty that is there, and, when it feels right, to share my picture. To my 

delight, this is becoming a welcomed, gentle practice encouraging and reminding me to name 

my place and claim my (rightful) space on this beautiful earth of ours that we all (((share))).

I've invited my goddaughters to join me in revisiting some photo prompts from last year and yesterday's invitation was "Something in your hand." In response, I shared this photo with 

the caption:

"Something in my hand (and in the background 

are my crutches, things that are in my hands a lot)."

As I continued to sit with my Grace (<-- my fond nickname for my Higher Power) mug filled 

with warm, soothing chai tea, I remembered something that I so loved in Brene Brown's Self-Compassion course with Kristin Neff.

First, we did a review of the oldest part of our brain, our amygdala or reptilian brain, which, 

when triggered, automatically throws us into Fight, Flight or Freeze mode. They talked about 

how this part of our brain is the easiest to trigger and how it sees our self-criticism as a threat 

to our self-concept. (!!!) While self-criticism is actually a misguided (and unhelpful) attempt to protect us - it wants us to do good but beats us up as a way to try to help - our brain sees our 

self-criticism as an attack and tries to protect us from it(us) using Fight, Flee or Freeze!!

(wow.) 

I'd never thought about how self-criticism could be one of my (old) brain's way of Fight-ing 

what it sees as a problem - "You're doing that all wrong and people won't like you!! You better 

shape up *now*!!" It's simply my reptilian brain, or what I've come to see as the voice of the 

little girl who still lives inside my heart (so I want to use great care in how I refer to this part of 

my brain because she's simply doing the best she can and wants to help me, too) trying to keep 

me safe. Her methods aren't real effective, but still very well intentioned from her very young 

stance.

Pausing here for a moment to place my hand over my heart, close my eyes, and take in a deep 

breath. I want to honor for myself that this is very valuable and crucial info in my continued 

healing of the expectations (both inner and outer) placed on my young girl self to caretake my 

family at a very young (way too young) age.

They then talked about how we also have a Mammalian brain and, because mammal's babies 

are born helpless and need their mother's care for for a very long time, this part of our brain's automatic responses are Tend and Befriend.

Yay!!!!! :)

I *love* this so much and find so much Hope in it.

I had a Psychology professor who used to say All. The. Time. "When the emotions are high, 

the brain doesn't work." He'd always follow it with something like "we have to wait for our 

emotions to come back down before we can access our brain again."

While it felt deeply wise at the time, I didn't fully understand what he was trying to convey. I 

realize now that this fits in perfectly with what Brene and Kristin were talking about. When we 

are being taken over by our emotions and/or lost in our storyline (so when our reptilian brain is 

front and center), we *can't* access the wise part of our brain until we can find a little space 

from the Fight, Flight or Freeze response.

Yes.

And

so I'm not broken.

Here's the wonderful news: Kristin said there are ways that we *can* access our Mammalian 

system even when our sweet mind can't and/or isn't ready go there (and boy-oh-boy, do I know 

this one!).

Yay!!!!

Three things that "trigger" our Tend and Befriend responses are:

1. Physical warmth

    The example was given that a warm compress is more soothing than a cold one.

2. Gentle Touch 

    Kristin said not to underestimate the power of touch 

3. Soothing Vocalization 

    She said "tone is everything!" and also that the *universal* vocalization, 

    meaning across cultures, for compassion is "awwww." (!!!)

So, if we are stuck in strong emotion and/or our head's storyline, doing one or all 3 of these 

can help call our mammalian brain back online.

I'm sharing all of this, first because I love it *So. Much* (can ya tell?, she asks with a playful, 

twinkly grin).

And also because, while I always knew that holding a warm beverage was soothing (and the 

shape of the mug matters a lot for me!), after posting my photo yesterday morning, it occurred 

to me that holding and drinking a warm cup of tea is really about Tending and Befriending 

myself and practicing self-compassion thru warmth and gentle touch, all while taking exquisite 

self-care.

So is putting my hand over my heart. As an aside, one of the exercises they had us do was to 

close our eyes and spend some time trying out different comforting gestures to find what is 

most soothing for us because the same one won't work for everyone.

And so is taking 5 (or more!) deep breaths!

Isn't all of this about trying to make a little space while also Tending and Befriending?

Yes.

Smiling softly, fondly, warmly, thinking of that story of the tribe that encircles members that 

have lost their way and are acting out and the community bring them back home to themselves 

by singing their song to them. So rather than ditch or throw away a part of themselves, they 

love them back home.

Yes. 

♥

.             *             .

Focusing on the Beauty

.              *                .

Touching Birthday Gift

On the afternoon that we celebrated

our May Sisters Birthday and Mother's Day,

my sweet girlie wanted to paint my nails.

So, of course, I said yes. 

💕

#touchismylovelanguage

.              *              .

Being Seen :: Tears

I took this photo this morning before I got up to get in the shower. I had just written a note to

myself of all of my fears and then, as invited in our Being Seen e-course, I folded it up so that

all of my fears were tucked inside.  As Brene Brown has taught me to do, I then wrote a 

permission slip on a blue post-it note, taped it to the top of my fears and held it to my heart 

along with a sweet little red heart that was close by.

When I was in daily mass a short while later, a ritual that comforts, blesses, and soothes me, 

and on my way to communion, I accidentally tripped and fell back onto the chair behind me. 

I am permanently on crutches and pretty solid on them so it was startling for me, and three 

women from three different directions rushed to me to see if I was ok.

While grateful for their concern to be sure, I felt embarrassed and also annoyed and frustrated 

with myself. One kind-hearted woman sensed my discomfort and warmly shrugged it off with 

a "it just happens sometimes" which was such a gift.

Returning from communion and sitting in my seat, I was surprised to have tears well. I reminded myself that this was a safe space and there was at least 10 minutes before mass was over so 

it was ok to let them fall. (hmmm.... tears well as I type). I think if I had been alone, I might've 

sobbed (we are headed to Texas for a short visit with my family later this week and work has 

been so tough for four months now with a new supervisor.  The transition simply isn't going
well for me). 

I had planned some errands after mass but was still pretty shaken up so I came on home and 

laid down. Afterwards, I looked at this picture and was surprised to see that in reality? 

The tears were already right there . . .

. . . here.

.              *               .

April Love :: Day 14 :: Dear Courage

Dear Courage,

Today was about trying something new in a difficult situation, a practice in courage and 

discernment as well. 

After I'd written (and rewritten) my email, I took some time to be with it and ponder. 

Was I sharing too much, being too vulnerable?

While an old, painful pattern to be sure, I didn't think so.

Would it be received in the spirit I intended?

There was no way to know. 

Would I regret sending it?  Would it be used against me at a later time?

.

Perhaps. 

Would I regret it more if I didn't give this a go?

In my heart of hearts I knew the answer for today was "yes."

So I took a deep breath, whispered a little prayer, and practiced being Brave by clicking 

"send."

'tis in Grace's care now. 

Blessed be

❤️

#aprillove2016

.              *            .

Abide and Trust in Love

The beautiful foursome of charming angels was my favorite Christmas gift from hubby this 

year and they are circled around, ever-so-gently leaning over, my sweet little red oil lamp, 

bought at a lovely Grist Mill turned pottery shop about an hour's drive away from here.  (If 

you follow me here, you'll know that it was "rent" for time spent in my favorite porch swing 

away from home.  You may already know this story, too.)

This beautiful tableau has been gathered since Christmas day. Smiling because it didn't take 

long for me to realize, 

Oh!!! 

So *this* is what 

Abide, 

my word for this year, 

looks like for me..... 

intentionally placing myself 

in the midst of cherished beloveds 

and allowing them to tend and love me, 

while practicing trusting that they want to. 

All that is required of me in that (this) moment 

is to rest in their caring presence.

For this?  

I am deeply grateful.

.             *              .

Cultivating Enough :: Day 27 :: Presence

Today we said a much too early and very unexpected goodbye 

to a kind church friend. 

Practicing Presence has been:

gathering together, 

trading stories, 

eyes welling, 

fierce hugs, 

belly laughter, 

tissues dabbing, 

awkward standing, 

finding seats, 

unison praying, 

singing her favorites, 

benediction blessing, 

catching up, 

and sharing a potluck 

(both food and love). 

(Everyone brings what they are able, yes?) 

❤️

#cultivatingenough

.              *            .

Cultivating Enough :: Day 8 :: Boundaries

Years ago a wise one, who knew and loved me well, made the keen observation that my eye 

for detail is so well tuned that I notice details without even realizing it. She said that the 

things I notice are just "there" for me (so it's not something I'm seeking out) and that most 

of the folks around me simply don't see what I see. (And so they are able to let them go, 

sometimes a whole heckuva a lot easier than I am).

I've noticed lately that, once again, I've been tempted to pull off my path and get stuck in the

ditch ruminating about what I'm noticing that could be improved, especially at work. Smiling 

softly because with my wiring and conditioning, this one may be a lifelong journey for me so 

even that becomes a practice. Can I be gentle with myself when noticing this old pattern 

coming up in me again?

I am growing quite fond of this mug and it's quirky little angel playfully reminding me to 

"Water Seeds, Pull Weeds" and so I'm asking her to be my guide and teacher in the next 

little while.

I want to focus on what is going well and water those seeds rather than getting stuck in the 

weeds, *especially* those I can do nothing about, simply don't have the time, energy, or 

patience for, and/or are not mine to tend to.

It dawned on me this morning (so I had a spiritual awakening) that it really comes down to intentionally practicing my word for the year, Abide. By making a conscious choice (again 

and again if need be) about *where* I want my attention, dear heart and beautiful soul to 

Abide, and then honoring my choice, I am setting and holding internal boundaries.

Of course, there are times when weeding needs to be done. I just want to use care and be 

mindful of when I might be stuck in a ditch, overgrown with weeds. So a playful example 

would be, "Whoops! That's a weed, Deb, not a seed!" 

With the help of my Gardening Angel, Mama Grace, Auntie Mercy, Hope and Peace, may I 

become a good winnower, one who is learning the art of separating the seeds from the weeds.

#cultivatingenough

.              *             .

Abiding Pilgrim

Had my annual (routine) mammogram this morning and, on a whim, I took this wise book 

with me. Between it and the very kind woman who registered me again this year (she 

remembered me!), both were very good, soothing company, their presence alone easing and 

calming nerves that just naturally arise, even when all is well. 

It was such a lovely, unexpected gift to share my word, Abide, with dear Miss Stephanie. 

Not only did she instantly resonate with it, she also said some kind words, blessing and 

affirming me.  

While sometimes far and very few between, today I am deeply grateful - again and again! - 

for those dear, soft lights that were there along my cancer journey trail (and other paths since) 

quietly encouraging me by their prayerful presence to Trust and Hope even when I was 

running on empty.  And in those moments when I just couldn't?  They were right there, 

allowing me to borrow their faith. 

.            *             .

January Abiding

Even on cold, gray, and wet January days 

the stark beauty 

of quietly Abiding in your life just as it is 

(and just as you are) 

all while trusting that in this moment?

It is Enough. 

❤️

.            *             .

Gentle Evening Abiding

Gently Abiding in

the sheltering presence of

my sweet friend named

Beary Star

as a wave of grief begins to wash over me.

Not too unexpected, really, 

my supervisor's last day was Thursday

so there are changes going on at work.

And my Moma died on Epiphany

nineteen years ago.

(How on earth can that be?)

May she rest in Peace.

.              *             .

Week 8 :: Beginning to Let Go

And so Little Sister's releasing begins. 

(It feels holy somehow 

to continue to stay with her 

thru this process as well)

 ❤️

.             *              .

Week 7 :: She's Peaked!

Lookie what Miss Pretty has been up to

while we were on vacation!

(Smiling softly because I had visions

of coming back to her with half of her leaves gone)

I'm feeling so grateful I decided to follow "my" sweet tree companion 7 weeks ago.  It's been lovely to watch her patient progress and also such a powerful, quietly gentle reminder for me that sometimes transformation takes time and when it does? Even when it doesn't feel like it, change is still happening. In the last few days, our journey together has reminded me of why I love Advent so very much.

While I'm not sure that I'll still be sharing weekly pictures of her now that she's peaked, I'm thinking I will continue to watch and witness her way of being in her world.  My thought being that offering my presence by quietly witnessing the process of losing her leaves, too, it might just be quite a touching blessing for me as well.  Continuing to watch her, with my eyes wide open, feels like a gentle invitation to also witness and be with my own discomfort with the barren times in my life, both past and present. 

May it be so.

.            *           .

Studying. . .

. . . on how to get my porch swing put back up. 

Big yay! 

(Fingers, eyes, and toes crossed that it works!)

.              *                .

A Very Good Start

Lookie who we found at the airport.  :)

My sweet Daddy enjoying our back patio

It's been a good day

and I was in bed by 8:45.

(We were all tired!)

.             *              .

A Daddy's Love

In the arms of my Daddy.

Saying good-bye at the airport, he's holding me as I cry

while patting me and speaking the soothing words

he knows to say.

While it sometimes feels like he's trying to stop me 

because I'm "too big" once again

(and there is probably a piece of that in there

as my emotions are much deeper than 

he knows how to care for and tend),

this morning I realize 

that it may just be 

that he's trying to help get me buttoned back up 

so that I can leave him

and head home.

(tears)

.            *            .

My Daddy flies in this afternoon for a visit with his girlfriend, Brenda.  While hubby and I usually fly back annually, this is his first trip over in 12 years.  He turns 75 in December, so part of me is very aware that this may be his last trip here.  

In preparation, I've been quite busy over the last few months physically getting ready by cleaning, tidying, and letting go of things and our house feels so good.  Last night in our writing group without fully realizing it, I was emotionally and spiritually preparing by writing the piece below.  Our prompt was:  "From memory or imagination, write about a fragment."  As I read it to our group, I was surprised by the tears that arose... well, perhaps not really.  Tweaking it just a bit, tears arise again this morning.

.            *             .

With a flourish she adds the final swirls of the billowy chocolate frosting on the rich, Devils food cake and steps back for a moment to admire her work.  She loves to bake and these last touches are her favorite part. 

Smoothing a stray strand out of her eyes, she thinks to herself, “maybe a fragment is enough.”  She’s made the last 20 of her father’s 75 birthday cakes and, deep down, she knows that he does love her.  Maybe it’s not to the depth she’d like and perhaps it isn’t to the extent that he loves her other siblings (or is it a simple matter of “able to show?”), but he’s always hugged her warmly when they greet after being apart.

Absent mindedly licking the sweet icing off of the side of her hand, she remembers the day in the airport many years ago, one of the few times she’s ever seen her father cry, and it was as he was saying, “I really want to get out to see you again, sis.”  Remembering that “sis” is his fond name for his girls, she smiles softly and, in the moment, she knows in her heart that, in his own, imperfect way, he does love her.

Can that fragment be enough?  Gathering the measuring cups and spoons into the now empty white, glass mixing bowl, she reminds herself that this might be the last time he ever comes this way.  Can she let what slice of love she has glimpsed over the years, be Enough?

She sure hopes so and she knows that only time shall tell.

.             *             .

Grateful for your witness.

Your warm thoughts, love and prayers 

over the next 5 days would be most welcome.

.            *             .

Gratitude for Bridges and Honoring Crossings

I drew this picture featuring a poem I wrote two years ago, not long after a painful (and very right) decision.  The imagery of a bridge had just come to me and was an especially powerful and so incredibly helpful metaphor (a lifeline, really) for me at the time.

As I thought about them and what they might mean, bridges spoke to me of Hope, which I was in desperate need of.  Right as I was leaving something behind that was no longer working for me, I deeply resonated with the idea of leaving where I had been to cross over a bridge into a new place in my life.  While circled in grief and fear, and feeling very alone, the other side was calling out to me with promises of refreshment and new growth.  Alls I had to do was to step onto the bridge.  At first my steps were heavy and awkward and slow.  But, with practice, patience, and persistence, they became more steady and sure.

With time, as happens in life, it felt right to turn the page in my art journal and continue on in other areas of my life, too.

A few days ago the timing felt right to take a moment to turn back to my picture and sit with it, basking in and honoring my journey of the past two years.  I took this photo including my feet and crutches on Friday morning as a way to acknowledge Grace and Peace, and the few kind angels (human and spirit) lighting the way ... my way .... across the bridge.

Smiling softly because as I take the time to remember and honor my pilgrimage today, I am also intentionally and ever-so-gently reaching back to that battle-weary, grief-stricken, and fear-soaked woman I was.  As I do so, I am tenderly whispering in her ear, "yes, dear-heart, leaving was exactly the next right thing and I'm here to let you know that you will survive what felt so unfathomable and very brave (because it was) at the time.  Promise."  

(hmmmm.... tears)

Yes.

  

After taking a few pictures like this one, I wondered if it wouldn't speak to me more if I was standing on the other side of the bridge so I turned my art journal around and snapped a few more photos.  In the end, it just didn't feel right.

And now I know why.

With my photo framed the way it is here, I see (and feel!) very clearly the me of today standing firmly behind and supporting the struggling me of then.  This picture speaks to me on so many levels of my taking my place among the angels and wise souls that were there for me during An. Excruciatingly. Difficult. time.

(I love that about faith and mystery .... 

it isn't tied to chronological time at all!)

Smiling softly because it also reminds me of how, more and more, the little girl who still lives inside my heart is able to lean back on the me of today in complete trust.

Yes. 

This is exactly the way my photo is meant to be.

It's such a gift to take some time today to bask in gratitude 
for how far I've come and honor where I am now.  
 I am thankful for your witness. 
(and kind words are always welcome)

❤️

Before closing I'd like to add that, once again, I am so, So, *SO* very grateful for the encouragement and role modeling to practice seeing and loving myself thru selfies!!!  Gracious, who *knew* what a difference that could make!!

 .              *              .

August Break 2015 :: Breakfast

Woke up with an upset tummy this morning 

so starting slow with saltines and water, 

with a little hope and love tucked in.

.            *           .

Witness

Witnessing and breathing 

through a rough spot at work. 

.             *              .