Destination Unknown

ACHTUNG – there’s a lot of metaphor coming up!

Finally, the day is approaching. The day I get a functioning, new, shiny, apple red convertible, I mean, kidney. The day I’ve been envisioning for years now is fast-approaching, looming just the next hill. It’s as though I’ve been driving on the longest windy winding road without a map – no landmark to guide me along the way. No signs to say STOP! or ONE WAY or WRONG CHOICE. No signs to tell me if I’m moving in the right direction.

I’ve moved through the dark and the daylight. I’ve felt as though I may never get to my unknown destination. For a while I forgot to put the top down and just enjoy the sunshine on my shoulders. I was too busy worrying to take in the view and to notice the scenic surprises along the way. I had my head down and my arm in front for protection, so I missed some of it.

I dreamt so many days about what it would be like when I finally got there. Would I arrive at a big house on a bluff, or a cottage in the woods, or a waterfall in the forest? What awaits me beyond the canyon and the next bend? Another twist, another turn…more hills.

I had to speed up a lot on my way down to ensure I’d make it up the other side.

A few times I hit a dead end and didn’t know where to go next. Without a map it can be so daunting. I often wondered if I was making the best choice or going down the right trail.

Until one day, something beautiful happened.

I stopped trying to figure out exactly where I was headed. I took deep breaths. When uncertain, I made decisions using my intuition and I stopped fretting (for the most part) about whether or not I was on the quickest route.

If stuck in traffic I sang in the car, practiced a new language, had conversations about imagined moments with imaginary people.

If one road led to the edge of a cliff, I just stopped. No biggie. Just because I was headed that direction doesn’t mean I had to drive off. Instead, I took a moment to soak in the expansive view – to let the panorama bounce off my retina and hit my brain. I took time to admire the details of all around me.

And then, with a spirit of exploration and adventure, I turned and proceeded a different way. I began noticing so many more details and tiny beautiful miracles all around me. The wild grasses and the flowers in the ditch were vibrant and dancing in the wind. An eagle perched on a high post, overlooking its domain with regal splendour. A butterfly landed and fluttered its wings as though it were waving to me.

I smelled lilacs as I drove past blurry lavender-coloured blossoms.

I let joy be my compass. I let my heart lead and I began to communicate with my body more, asking what it wants and how it wants to be.

I realized, along this meandering journey that as long as I enjoyed the trip it didn’t matter as much where I ended up.

I suspend judgment on what it all means, because I cannot possibly know at this time. Each day holds a new lesson for me when I am attentive and present.

For now, I am here. I am alive. I am happy.

And once I finally reach the lighthouse, or the mountains, or the bustling city, I will take a deep breath in gratitude for the roads that led me there.

I’m not sure what to expect, but I promise to send you a postcard when I get there.

Simulacra

I’m shedding my skin –

like a Band-Aid pulled off

the pain is sharp, but short-lived.

 

Bits of ego on the floor –

layers of skin and experience

for the wind to blow and scatter.

 

A dry pile of remnants remain;

dusty old me’s to be swept away

under a carpet or into a corner.

 

I’m shedding my skin.

 

Sloughing off past habits,

collecting hair from the drain

to make a sculpture.

 

I keep an ear, an eye,

a piece of brain stem.

Teeth and bones

Stitched with sinew –

a simulacra of my self.

 

I resolve to remember.

To preserve in pictures –

recollections flattened

between pages,

preserved in a jar.

 

I’m shedding my skin.

 

But what’s underneath

is not fully ready.

Nerves are raw,

lungs, undersized,

gasping for air

and understanding.

 

I reach out –

but what once was my hand

is now a claw,

a talon –

a sharp tool for piercing.

I cannot hold hands

Or caress my lover’s chest.

 

I’m left with a lizard’s tongue,

split and uncertain,

flitting in and out,

discerning its surroundings.

 

My old covering sits alone

in a chair near the corner.

Empty eyeholes for gazing –

seeing nothing.

An empty shell.

 

What I once was,

or wasn’t,

cannot be pieced together

from skeletal suggestions.

 

Details are lacking –

Contours and movement,

the shape of the lips,

the twinkle in the eye.

the curve of the neck.

 

 

Formless and crawling,

I begin to grow a new outer casing –

a shell-like protection

for my neophyte softness.

 

All I can do is wait.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Gift of my Heart

The other day something miraculous and out-of-this-world beautiful happened to me. I want to share this profound experience with you, as it was a life-changing and extraordinary moment.

As some of you may know, I’m currently experiencing the final stages of kidney failure, and I’m waiting patiently for a kidney. Ok, some days I’m not that patient, but overall I think I’m doing pretty well. I don’t say this to garner sympathy or to go into a “woe is me” tirade. I’m simply stating what is happening in my life, and yes, it is affecting everything. Yes, it is a big deal. My kids and my husband have been dealing with zombie mom for the last while, and it’s gotten waaaaay worse over the last few months. I’m in bed much of the day, and I can say, with definite confidence, that I have recently beaten my previous marathon naptime record. I’ve been utterly exhausted – like a battery on its last legs. My “get up and go” has definitely “gone up and went.”

Being an optimistic and positive person, I’ve been keeping my mental state pretty upbeat (all things considered). I’ve accepted the fact (to the best of my ability) that I need to nap almost all day…every day.

Do I love experiencing this stage of life? Although I’ve been fortunate to have more time to spend with my children (before they move out – they are going to move out someday, right?) I’d say the cons are outweighing the pros at this point. I struggle against what my body wants and needs. I get frustrated with my limitations, and my incessant need to rest. I even have moments of feeling really angry with my body for not being able to keep up with everything that I want to do. I’m only 47, and I’m not ready to feel like I have one foot in the grave.

Desperately tired and drained, I went to acupuncture the other day in an attempt to relieve my constant headaches and back pain. I also hoped that it would, in some way, help me with my complete lack of energy. Laying on the table, I reflected on something that photographer and joy researcher Jesh de Rox said during an interview on my favorite podcast, The Creativity Habit, with Daphne Cohn. He had spoken about getting to know his body by talking to his heart.

So I decided to do exactly that. I said hello to my heart. It said nothing. I simply waited. I then asked how it was doing, and I waited again…for a response…a message, an image, a vision, a feeling…whatever.

The most amazing thing happened. I saw a picture of my heart, wrapped in a package with golden wrapping paper and a big red bow, stuck in a wooden crate. As though I was connecting with how my heart felt, I could sense that it was not unhappy in the gilded package in the crate. It liked being able to see through the slots between the wood pieces, and it felt cared for in the fancy “emballage.”

When that vision started to fade, I asked my heart what I could do for it. It took a moment, but then it showed me that it wanted to come out of the crate and that it wanted to be unwrapped. I visualized lifting the parcel out of the container, pulling the straight end of the red satin bow and opening up the delicate golden paper.

As soon as I began to pull at the paper, the brightest, most intense, golden light shot out from inside the package. Suddenly my entire being was flooded with this sublime golden light, with its warmth and love and strength. And, as I looked closer, at what was radiating this extraordinary light, I noticed my heart, made of a translucent diamond-like material (but it was soft) that was made of intensely bright and highly vibrational white light, and it was pulsating. I can still feel it right now, the incredible life and Divine “being-ness” that my heart possesses.

I got the message that although I valued and loved my heart, I’ve been keeping it locked up and imprisoned in the crate. Yes, I was keeping my heart safe in the crate, but I was also distancing myself from it and not allowing it to breathe and share its love and power. To really feel alive, I need to open it up and let its light shine out.

I felt immediately different. I left my treatment feeling awake, alive, and re-connected to a larger spark of Divinity. Interestingly enough, I did not nap at all that day or the next day! I feel reborn, as though my heart has given me a new beginning because I reached out and connected to it in a deep and authentic way.

What would your heart say to you? I will meet with my heart again, and speak with it, and hold it, and thank it. But mostly, I will listen.

You Are A Flower

You are a flower.

You begin as a seed.

A possibility.

A potential.

An expression

of the be all end all,

all loving all powerful,

of the all entire universe compacted

into the tiniest piece of a piece of peace.

Some of you survive storms;

some aren’t given enough water.

Not enough sustenance,

not enough care,

not enough sun,

not enough warmth,

not enough love.

 

Some of you have to struggle

to push your way through the cracks,

compete with the neighbors,

conquer the pavement.

Reaching upward with determination,

you fight for what you need.

 

Some of you shrivel.

Some you feel you are not the right seed.

Some of you are not the color you envision,

not the size nor the shape you can see in your mind’s eye.

 

Some of you are parched and starving,

barely surviving.

Then, for the briefest of moments,

glory.

The light shines down,

and you are gifted with what you need

(the tiniest amount will suffice).

 

Something is different,

you feel it.

The growth,

the gestation,

the transformation.

Germinating,

you are emerging

evolving

becoming

and still

you have dragons to slay

and predators that attack.

Your leaves stretch

reaching for nourishment,

transmuting warmth into energy,

into life,

into vibrancy.

 

Suddenly, you are more than you imagined,

more than you envisioned,

more than you knew you could be.

Your beauty is breathtaking.

 

You are opening,

You are blooming.

YOU ARE MAGNIFICENT.

 

You fan and flutter,

You summon other flowers over.

They are beguiled and intrigued;

they want what you have.

 

You finally see yourself clearly.

 

You are a flower.

You don’t compete with other flowers.

You stand side by side and protect each other.

Together you create a garden

of beauty, serenity,

acceptance,

and love.

Exploration

Learning to paint was such an eye-opening experience! I thought that I’d be so free and unencumbered, like an inspired artist in the flow simply emoting through the medium. I pictured myself in a black beret, in a big studio throwing paint around energetically. Or, like in the movies and t.v. shows, dancing around in a studio with big windows to cool music just grooving on my creative vibe. So fun! So free! Letting my wild inner self speak through the brushes!

Now for a wee dose of reality: I stared at that blank canvas for ages, totally unsure of how to start. I felt inadequate and insecure, and my first paintings were terrible. I had no skill set and no experience except for the art that I had done in elementary school. What did I want to make? What did I want to say through my work? I would hold the paintbrush above the canvas, frozen and unsure of where to begin. A barrage of questions pinballed around in my brain…Where should I start? What brush should I use? What color? Should I paint something abstract, or maybe a landscape?

I’ve gone to galleries for much of my adult life, and I loved looking at art. I knew what I liked, but I didn’t know what or how to paint. In my first few paintings, I tried to emulate a modern painting style that I admired – very geometric and simplistic. These were a complete bomb. So, to improve, I watched a few tutorials about acrylic painting, but I still didn’t know what I was doing. I’d always figured I’d just be really good at painting right away because I wanted to be.

In order to progress, I had to come to terms with the fact that I was a complete novice. I decided to have zero expectations. I had to distance myself from the desire for a particular outcome, and I also accepted that my paintings might suck for a while.

In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron wrote, “In order to recover as an artist, you must be willing to be a bad artist. Give yourself permission to be a beginner.”

And then, I just started to paint without thinking. I turned off my brain and simply started. I would paint some lines, some other lines, some shapes, some colors, some dots…whatever I intuitively felt like doing. I tried varying sizes of brushes and whatever colors inspired me in the moment.

Suddenly something shifted. I embraced being a beginner. I was ok with the realization that my paintings might be shitty for a while. I let go of my expectations, and I noticed a few things right away:

• I was completely present in the moment.

• It was meditative and relaxing.

• Whatever I was doing was ok, and I didn’t have to worry about making “mistakes.”

• I had to take a leap of faith each time that I painted – I had to simply let go and do the work.

• I felt like a little kid again- free and unencumbered.

• It was exciting because I never really knew what was going to be unveiled.

Each time I painted I had to step into the unknown. I had to take a leap of faith and simply let go and do the work. I began listening to each painting, and I allowed them to communicate with me as though each had its own personality and spirit. I would sense a painting stop at different points, and then I’d back off, look at it with squinty eyes, turn the canvas, close one eye, go closer, leave it for a while and come back. There are some paintings that I started months ago that I haven’t come back to. I’m getting perspective on them, and at some point, I’ll decide to add to what’s there or to paint over something, or change something else.

I wasn’t sure what to think of my paintings. I couldn’t tell if I even liked some of them, but I reminded myself that I wasn’t painting for a gallery. I didn’t have to be awesome. That was the magical part – when I allowed myself to simply open up and to express painting became a beautiful and liberating experience. Don’t get me wrong, there were moments of frustration when I really didn’t feel like the painting was working or looking great. For one of my first paintings (one of my favorites), I ended up throwing a bunch of watery green paint on it, as I wasn’t happy with how it was turning out. I’d basically given up on making it look like something, and in annoyance, I threw it on the floor and dumped the paint on it. Honestly, at this point, I didn’t care because I had assumed that I would probably end up just throwing it in the garbage. Magically, it was the addition of the green paint at the end that made it look fantastic!

This process of creating and trusting was really beneficial for me. It took me from being mostly a product person into more of a process-oriented person. When was the last time you did something without any expectations?

Denial

Dip your toe in the ink of expression.

Be not be afraid… the impression

you make

is not all you will take

from this free-writing sound,

this whirling dervish

of sanity unwound.

 

Nourish the remnants of the real.

Though a simulacrum,

what you feel in each moment

is but a crumb,

of the anguish and pain

of the dragon you’ve slain.

 

Your reflection remains

in  blood stains,

in fragments of mirror

under your bed.

They said

you can’t walk with shards in your feet. 

I repeat, have a seat.

 

The mess you’ve made,

is now worse since you stayed,

You should never have strayed.

Keep that canary in the cage,

encapsulate the rage,

don’t put it on the page.

 

Hold it on the tip of your tongue,

breathe it into the side of your lung.

Soak your will in silence,

deny the violence,

refute the truth,

and just smile in the photo booth.

 

 

 

 

 

How to Support Someone With Chronic Illness

I was diagnosed with Polycystic Kidney Disease when I was 8, but it never became something debilitating until I reached stage 4 and 5 kidney failure. My kidneys are now functioning at 13% (this is measured by the GFR which is the Glomerular Filtration Rate). Luckily, I don’t need dialysis yet but I am definitely experiencing many symptoms of kidney failure. I spend the days exhausted (I have usually at least two naps a day), and I never feel rested, even after I nap or sleep all night. I experience daily headaches, nausea, body pain, and itching, which are also symptoms of kidney failure. 

I find it very frustrating to not being able to maintain a normal life. I have little energy to run errands, do daily tasks or meet with people for visits. I have to be ok with days on end in which I accomplish very little. For me, being a bit of a busy bee, this has been a difficult transition. Of course, I am one of the lucky ones. Although I have chronic illness right now, my symptoms will be alleviated once I have a kidney transplant. Others are not so fortunate, and many people suffer daily with chronic pain and illness. It can be extremely depressing to not feel like yourself day after day. So what can you do, as a friend, a family member, a partner or a co-worker?

Here are 5 ways to support someone experiencing chronic pain or illness:

1. Check in on them – it’s bad enough to be diagnosed with a chronic illness let alone debilitated from it. One of the most difficult things to experience is the isolation that goes along with being chronically ill. You become disconnected from your social circle and from your work colleagues, and it’s easy to feel like you don’t matter. Just a text, a phone call or a visit can brighten their day.
2. Be empathetic – be compassionate about your friend’s situation. Even if you can’t exactly imagine what it’s like for them, put yourself in their shoes. Someone with chronic illness who can’t work isn’t sitting at home on a vacation, eating bonbons with their feet up all day. Chances are they have pain and discomfort that goes along with the illness that makes it hard to do the most basic tasks. One of the most hurtful and insensitive things that I experienced involved other teachers that I knew saying things like “oh must be nice to be home getting paid for it,” or, “ well if you miss teaching you can come do my report cards and quit complaining.“ These types of comments do not help. Needless to say, I stopped spending time with these individuals after that.
3. Keep inviting them to things – even if you think they won’t come or can’t come. You may think that by inviting someone who is ill to come to an event or gathering that you will be bothering them. Who knows? Maybe they can’t come for the whole event but just knowing that you wanted them there can uplift their spirit.
4. Offer to come and visit them – perhaps your friend doesn’t have a lot of energy to meet you for a coffee or dinner. You can always offer to come to their place if they are open to that. I always appreciate it when someone pops by or asks if they can come to see me.
5. Ask if there’s anything you can do to help – there may be nothing that you can do, but even offering shows that you care and you are available. Even picking up groceries, running an errand, or dropping off food can really help someone who is sick. Small gestures can go a very long way.

Do you know anyone who is experiencing chronic pain or illness? If you suffer from chronic illness, what type of things help you to feel supported?

Boredom

I’ll be honest, it makes me a bit crazy and agitated when students of mine tell me they’re bored. It doesn’t happen often (probably because I tell them I don’t want to hear it if they are), and when it does, I tell them what my dad used to tell me: “only boring people get bored.”

I don’t know when kids decided that life had to be a constant stream of entertainment and fun. I’ve heard so many kids complain about being bored at recess or bored with an activity that we are doing in class. Sometimes, as a teacher, I feel my job is to be as excited and enthusiastic as possible about what I am teaching to keep their attention. Sometimes I feel more like a tv show host than a teacher. I bring in props, use funny voices and dress in costumes to keep things interesting.

So what’s with the whole boredom thing?  Do kids say they’re bored when they find something uninteresting? Or is it that they would rather be doing something else? Is it because they are used to playing video games, watching tv or having someone schedule an activity for them?

Whatever happened to free time? I remember feeling like summers lasted forever when I was a kid. There were so many days to fill, and my friends and I used our imaginations to come up with things to do. We had cartwheel and handstand contests on the front yard for hours, we choreographed dances, made up plays, lip-synched to our favorite songs, wrote songs of our own, read comics, went for walks, hung out at the mall, drew pictures and listened to music (to name a few things). I don’t remember ever saying that I was bored as I could always come up with something to do.

I think that it’s a good thing to have quiet time or downtime. We fill our lives with so many distractions in order to never be bored, but I feel that this may be limiting our creativity. Out of boredom comes the desire to do something or make something. According to Teresa Belton, visiting fellow at the School of Education & Lifelong Learning at the University Of East Anglia and boredom expert, research shows unstructured downtime helps kids become creative, independent thinkers. “Boredom needn’t be feared, and it can be seen as an opportunity.” What do you think about boredom?

What do you do when you are bored?

~Graffiti picture from the streets of Vancouver – unknown artist.

Happy Anniversary (to me)

Yesterday was my anniversary. Well, I guess that could be relative, depending on when you are reading this post. Let me be more precise. Yesterday, April 2nd, was my anniversary. It was my 6th wedding anniversary with my incredibly awesome husband.

6 years ago we said our “I do’s” barefoot on a beach in Belize (that has the making of a good tongue twister). Our witnesses were the salty breezes, the sea birds and the undulating Carribbean waters (and two people who worked at the resort and a bunch of guests lounging in the pools beside where we were married). Our Marriage Commissioner was some kind of tv celebrity there (he hosted a morning show) so that was quite fortuitous and exciting for the locals.

But I didn’t notice anyone but him. After so many years of hardship, emotional upheaval and struggle, I had found my perfect partner in the form of a German helicopter pilot with a sharp intellect and a wicked sense of humor (he isn’t too hard on the eyes either). These 6 years have flown by. When I met him my kids were 15 and 12, and I had already been married twice (the first was to their dad and the second was to a guy who wasn’t that great with them), so it wasn’t exactly my intention to get too serious with anybody.

For our first date, we met at a sushi restaurant, which for those of you in the dating world is the perfect place to go. If the date doesn’t go well, you can leave before too long as the food comes quickly and doesn’t take long to eat. My daughter had also come up with a plan to save me from the date in case it was potentially a dud. She would call me about 20 minutes after our meeting time, and if I wanted to leave, and I would act like there had been some emergency at home. I practiced my reaction at home to see if I could sound convincing.

Me: “Hi honey….slow down, I can’t understand you. He did what? Your brother’s arm got cut off? or “THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE??!!! Oh my god, yes, I’ll come right now!!”

Him: “Oh no, did something happen?”

Me: (super flustered and worried-looking) “Um, yeah, I’m so sorry but I need to leave right now!!”

And then I would throw some money on the table (’cause I don’t expect him to pay for everything, it’s 2019, right?) and run out the door, never to be seen again.

This is not what happened. Instead, I was having a wonderful time and really enjoying the conversation when ZuZu called. The actual version of the conversation went something like this:

Me: “Hi honey, what’s up?” (I pause for response and random words on the other end of the phone and quietly tell him it’s my daughter calling)

“Oh, ok. Yes, everything is going great. Yep, I’ll probably be home in an hour-ish. Did you want me to pick you up something from the store? Ok, love you.”

He asked, (being the astute man that he is) “was that your get of out jail free phone call?”

This is not verbatim, of course, but you get the point. After our fantastic date, we went on a walk around the reservoir and got along amazingly. I was delightfully surprised by him…he was super articulate, smart, funny, charming, charismatic and handsome. It was the best first date I’d ever been on and, although I didn’t know it, the last first date I’d ever have.

Happy Anniversary to me, to us, and to all you out there who have found someone to love. xo