At 6:36 am on Sunday, July 4, 2010, my oldest brother phoned me with the news that my dear mother, Elaine Kiener, had passed away that morning at 5 am. 

At 7:36 am, I received an email (from a Google Group that explores the crossings between  Nonviolent Communication and  Focusing. 

In that email, a colleague shared a poem entitled:  Your Mother and My Mother by hafiz.

Fear is the cheapest room in the house.
I would like to see you living
In better conditions.

For your mother and my mother
Were friends.

I know the innkeeper
In this part of the universe.
Get some rest tonight,
Come to see my verse again tomorrow.
We’ll go speak to the Friend together.

I should not make any promises right now,
But I know if you
Pray
Somewhere in this world–
Something good will happen.

God wants to see
More love and playfulness in your eyes
For that is your greatest witness to Him.

Your soul and my soul
Once sat together in the Beloved’s womb
Playing footsie.

Your heart and my heart
Are very, very old Friends.

Such a beautiful poem and message – in its own right. 

And yet, even more fitting considering that I had been with my mom a few years before as I watched her NOT die (all within a peaceful sleep), and had also been with her during times of panicked breathlessness.  I am so grateful to know that fear was not a companion along her final journey.

There’ve been times in life
when I’d felt like a mother-less child,
adrift at sea
with no land in sight.

But those were different long-ago times
When neither she nor I
knew how to be–
one with the other.

Then through the past two decades,
travelling simple journeys together,
mother and daughter learned to also become friends.
Content to simply be with each other–
watching and waiting–with neither judgment nor expectation
nor even need at time for words of any kind.

Yet now in this moment -barely a single day
since the mom has died,
I, her daughter, greet this new day
on the threshold of the rest of my life.

Never again to sit together,
nor again to see her look of pure delight and happiness
as she’d open her eyes to see me there with her.
No one last “Tussie Mussie” bouquet
lovingly carried from my home to hers,
Nor bowl of fresh-picked raspberries
For her to lovingly devour.
And no more tales of days gone by,
sharing both laughter and the tears
of being two strong women –
the only mother and sister
to three long-grown men.

With memories of that mysterious, witnessed moment
once on a day she didn’t die,
alongside other breathless, panicked moments
when she’d feared she’d die afraid/alone—
knowing now she’s found her peace at last.

And while I’m no longer by her side,
Content and grateful just to know
she’s resting there deep within my heart
Even as I proudly carry forever
HER name within my own.

Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, a mysterious, tall green stalk magically began to grow two stories beneath my bedroom window.  It had appeared in the flower bed, snuggled up so tightly against the sidewalk that we knew no human being could have planted it there.  At the time, it seemed that no one even knew what kind of plant it was.

Then, one day, the mysterious stalk revealed its wondrous blooms.  And later, when the blooms were spent, it seemed to die.  Except each year, again and again, the magical stalk again emerged from the soil to repeat its blooming refrain.

Many years later, my mom had enjoyed another Amaryllis bulb miracle.  No mysterious planting this time–the bulb had arrived nestled inside a florist’s basket.  A perfect gift for my mom—for whom one of her greatest (and simplest) pleasures is to sit and watch flowers bloom.  This special bulb—which grows at a pace that you can almost observe–provided a bright spot in her one-room, assisted living space. 

Once its blooms had been spent, mom sent the bulb home with me, with the hopes that someday it might bloom again.  For a few weeks, it sat on a shelf near my back door, enjoying occasional sips of water as its drooping leaves continued to feed the bulb.

Until one day, I noticed that a new stem had begun to send up its pointed tips.   Gradually, another set of blossoms appeared at the tip of the magical stalk, bringing a double round of enjoyment – both for me and to share long distance with my mom.

And then, wonders of wonders:  yet another stalk began to climb—stretching upward toward the still-present blooms.  And as this latest stalk (the bulb’s third in as many months) reached its lofty destination, the final bloom from the second stalk completed its own cycle.

For me, an amaryllis bulb is no longer simply a mysterious gift from within my childhood garden.  It is also both memory and a reminder of the magical beauty that exists in the world.  Or, as Muriel Barbery writes in The Elegance of the Hedgehog, an “odd moment of beauty, where time is no longer the same….[rather] a sort of interlude in time, something suspended, an elsewhere that ha[s] come to us.”

May your own life be blessed with many “odd moments of beauty” that both suspend and transcend time, while linking you with thoughts and memories of those whom you love.

Image credits:

1) Amaryllis from Clearly Ambiguous  Flickr (cc) Some Rights Reserved

2) Amaryllis Rebloom by Mary Elaine Kiener, RN, PhD (cc) Some Rights Reserved

One, two, three, one, two, three…. My fellow workshop participants counted off in preparation for our first small group exercise. As the counting reached me, Michael, our workshop leader interrupted: “No, you’re not included.”

I felt as though a rug had been pulled out from beneath my feet. I struggled to control my emotions, my face betraying a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and disappointment, mingled with a vague sense of betrayal.

During planning for the workshop (ironically, the theme was “loss”), my fellow co-organizers had repeated assured me that I could be a full participant throughout the workshop itself. While small group exercises were normally done in triads, their experience had been that an occasional group of four was formed if the overall group size was not divisible by three. However, on that particular morning, Michael appeared unwilling to make an accommodation.

As the triads began their work together, I attempted to regain my equilibrium. I began a stresswell™ spin of the wheel while I tapped into my usual repertoire of stress management skills. I stopped to breathe and shift into coherence. I acknowledged my feelings and released them. I examined my beliefs and judgments about the incident.

Although one of the groups had invited me in as an observer, I found myself continually distracted by feelings of loss and abandonment. I felt fidgety and unable to sit still in a spirit of presence within the small group. Eventually, I was pulled away from the exercise by an administrative task, and decided it would be too disruptive for me to return.

I left the room for a few moments to wash my face and provide some distance from the workshop itself. As the exercise ended, lunch arrived and I realized how hungry I felt.

Conversation during lunch was also awkward. My fellow organizers shared my puzzlement and empathized with my sadness. Yet, I was also aware of wanting to maintain a positive atmosphere for the rest of the participants-even though I still was unsure of my own status for the remainder of the workshop.

A gnawing sadness continued throughout lunch. Tears lingered just beneath the surface and threatened to erupt without notice. I was puzzled by how important it seemed to be for me to actually participate in the workshop.

Finally, lunch was finished, and the group came back together. I learned that Michael had decided to let me participate in the rest of the workshop exercises. That afternoon, we would be take turns telling a story about a loss in our own lives.

I paused for a moment to invite a felt sense of which story might want to be told that afternoon. Ah, along came my sophomore homeroom and English teacher, a nun whose name I could no longer remember. What I did recall, however, was that “Sr. Mary NoName” and I had become fast friends that fall. She was perhaps no more than ten years my senior. I had found myself enjoying our conversations immensely and looked forward to the times we spent together.

Then, one day, she had stopped me as I was leaving homeroom and told me that we could no longer spend time together outside of class. She had offered no explanation as I sensed a door in my heart slam shut. From that day forward, I was invisible to her and I felt shunned.

That afternoon, however, as I told the story to my “listener” within our group of four, I began to see threads linking that long ago experience with the intense feelings that had haunted me just a few hours before. I began to recognize that those threads were linked as well to other losses throughout my life that had included themes of exclusion and abandonment and which had never quite lost their emotional sting.

As part of the workshop exercise, we also had the opportunity to address our listener with whatever words we would wish to say directly to the person we had been telling the story about, as well as offer a blessing to that person. I found myself speaking both to myself as the devastated 15 year old girl and to my beloved teacher, acknowledging the pain she must have felt as well (because I felt sure that the forced separation had not been her choice).

As I spoke, I felt as though I were laying down a heavy burden, that I had carried for so long. And throughout the rest of the workshop, I could feel the healing continue.

Of course, old habits sometimes are reluctant to slip away quite so easily. As a result, in the days following the workshop, I’ve noticed occasional twinges of old, familiar, well-rehearsed feelings of abandonment. Yet, as quickly as the twinges appear, they now disappear with the recognition that the initial hurt has been healed and that I no longer need the protective shield.

Lessons learned? First, that any experience can affect us deeply within all dimensions of our being. Second, that a lingering response to a stressful incident might have deep taproots to an earlier experience that yearns for a transformational healing process. Third, that a “spin of the wheel” may become a three-dimensional spiral of growth and healing that transcends time and space.
Image Credits (unless otherwise noted, all on Flickr (cc) Some Rights Reserved) :
1. Not Like the Others… by greenapplegrenade
2. Wellness Wheel ©2002 by John W Travis and HealthWorld Online (used with permission)
3. parla con me by la bella polenesiana

A Love Letter from Alex (printable/pdf version)

Some days it really pays to sort through old files.  This afternoon, I found a stack of love letters and cards from my late husband.

He wrote an especially beautiful letter at a point during our courtship when I was going through a really rough patch at work.  I thought you might find his words as comforting-and inspirational–as I did.   Both then, and now:

I send you my affection and love to be with you….keep us close together during the trying times….calling on our total energies to help you through….but also call on our combined energies and love when it is time to celebrate at the high times of each day – there should be at least 8 celebrations each day….

1. When you awake…to another day, the purr of a cat, to the sneeze of [the dog], to the song of birds or to the first ray of sunlight.
2. Sipping a cup of tea, munching on a crust of toast, peanut butter or crunching a dry cereal for breakfast.
3. Taking a walk in the out-of-doors regardless of snow, rain, sleet, sun, or cottonwood seeds gliding down to earth, smelling the scents of earth, water, cut grass, sweat of a horse, after shave lotion, fresh dab of perfume or baby oil.
4. Greetings from friends, acquaintances, students, strangers, passer-bys, your own image reflected in a mirror or storefront window.  Surprize….being alive to all which surrounds you each moment in each day.
5. Listening and hearing the sounds of your own voice…talking, yelling, singing, laughing, whispering.
6. Touching…oh so many objects, people, animals, buildings, your car, a flower, a caterpillar, the wine in your goblet, the lips of your lover….your own body….with pride, delight and passion.
7. To be emotional….full range and depth…no limit…full limit…restrained and then abounding…internal and external-Yeah!  Take it in…Give and let it out….Human and Full of Life.
8. To sleep and rest after a fantasy called life which has been experienced….throughout each day.

That my Mary Is what you do!  Each and Every day of your creative and beautiful life.  Celebrate the existence of yourself with each and every living creature-

I too will celebrate life with you….each day and each moment of that day-

I enjoy spending these seconds with you.

*****

Image Credits:

Love Letters by Patricia Lazar on Flickr (cc) Some Rights Reserved

Is the upcoming holiday season bogged down with a clutter of “shoulds” and “oughts” that detract from your enjoyment of the season?

Are you a newlywed trying to juggle the long-standing holiday traditions of multiple families?

Are you longing to create or adapt holiday traditions for your own family that your children will treasure as they grow older?

On the other hand, perhaps you are adjusting to the loss of a pivotal family member who provided the focus for important holiday traditions.

Often, our holiday traditions include some “emotional clutter” that add unnecessary stress to our lives and hamper our enjoyment of the holiday season.

I have found the following four “clutter-control” questions to be helpful guides for choosing which traditions to keep or adapt, and which ones to let go of completely.

• How meaningful is it for me? - How much of an impact does this tradition have on my life? Is it important to me? Can I let it go?

• Do I love it? – Is this something that brings me joy? Or is it something I simply tolerate? Or does it create added stress in my life?

• Do I want this? – Is this something I need or want as part of my life? How important is it to keep this “intact” or is there a way I can reduce the “clutter” effect?

• Does this need me? – If it is not important to me personally, is it important to someone I care about? Is there something else that I need to consider (or do) about or with this?

As you clear away the excess emotional clutter, you will find a gentle spaciousness that enables you to embrace the richness of those holiday traditions that provide the most meaning to your life and your relationships.

I’d love to hear about your experiences in clearing your holiday-related emotional clutter.

(image credit: The Clutter of Death by GrandWaz on Flickr, some rights reserved)

Change Your Attitude About Change

by John Bishop, Executive Director, Accent on Success, Greater St. Louis Area

The world is changing. The changes will be rapid, constant and revolutionary. We can’t stop it.

At best, we can slow it down a little. But, change will be coming from all directions and at speeds we have never seen before. If rapid change is inevitable then how can we prepare for it?

Seven Ways to Look at Change:

1. Today’s change is tomorrow’s norm.

2. Change is as good or as bad as you make it.

3. If you are a change oriented leader expect others to paint a bull’s eye on your back and then shoot arrows at you.

4. Substitute the word “growth” for “change.” It will revolutionize your perspective about new things.

5. “When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge.”  [Tuli Kupferberg]

6. “Change is a challenge and an opportunity, not a threat.”  [Prince Phillip of England]

7. If you can’t control the changing event, change how you react to it.

By changing our attitude toward it and insuring that the changes make things better and not just faster.

By changing our attitude toward it we can make the change in our section of the world better – not just faster.

Our personal attitude toward change will ultimately determine our destiny.

www.GoalSettingForStudents.com/archives.html

(If you like this life skill idea, please send it to others. Thank you.)

Today’s lesson came in the form of my monthly telephone bill. As I briefly scanned the bill, I felt (and then heard) the sudden gasp escape from my throat: the amount due was TRIPLE its usual cost!

As I looked further, I discovered that the additional charges stemmed from a business call I had placed last month to the Bahamas. My colleague and I had experienced several delays in making scheduled appointments–due in part to interruptions in her internet-based telephone service, plus we had dismissed her cell phone option as too cost-prohibitive. So, when she gave me a new land-line number to use, I didn’t even think twice. I made the call and we had a productive 60-minute conversation. What I didn’t know at the time was that the call was being billed at my phone company’s “primetime overseas rate.”

Yikes! But also, DUH! I’m so spoiled with my unlimited long distance service plan that I didn’t stop to think that it only covers the US. Plus her phone number “looks” like a regular US number (that is, it doesn’t have any international code prefix to the number).

Once upon a time, I probably would have reacted with anger, frustration and tears, punctuated with feelings of blame and self-loathing for having made such a “stupid” and costly mistake. I might have then railed against the telephone company for what I believed to be exorbitant rates, and/or harbored a lingering, unspoken sense of bitterness toward my colleague for not having “protected” me from my ignorance.

Instead, this morning, I chose to take a deep breath and quietly pay the bill. And, without shame or blame, acknowledged my simple (albeit costly) error in judgment, that was based merely on my not knowing that which I didn’t already know. And then pondered some lessons to be learned from my experience–to help me and others not make a similar mistake in the future.

There are days in life in which we learn costly lessons. And some days in which our lessons simply cost us money.

Learning how to avoid the first type altogether while also minimizing the second is perhaps one of our most important lessons in life.

(note: image from Patrick Q on Flickr)

Was it stressful?  Well, in a way, yes.  Actually, I’d prefer to view it as a time filled with ripe opportunities to be present in the moment.  Moments where time often compressed or expanded in the blink of an eye.  A month of rich experiences, thoughts, feelings, insights, new relationships, healing within lifelong relationships, finding meaning, and all those things that make life worthwhile.

And the icing on the cake?  Or the ribbon on my Christmas-time present?  The fact that mom is still with us–with all her glorious one-liner-laced, common-sense, steadfast approach to life.