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A Borrowed Blog: “It’s Time To Stop Avoiding Death: You can’t have the life you want without letting go of the life you have” by David Cates

I thank David Cates for permitting me to post this timely writing (original post March 30, 2020).

“It’s Time To Stop Avoiding Death: You can’t have the life you want without letting go of the life you have”

I’ve been stunned by how thoroughly a tiny virus, barely 0.0001″ across, has brought our human world screeching to a halt. In a few short months, on a global scale, it’s kicked over all the old bedrocks, nation by nation, and clearly revealed the dark, wriggly underworld hiding just out of sight.

That sense of unease we’ve had — about governments and politicians, scientists and institutions, economies built on hope and lies, nature gasping from our poisons, societies splintering into dry tinder — all that is laid bare. And in the deafening silence of shutdown, there’s nowhere else to look. The veil’s been lifted. The world’s turned upside down. The roots are rotten.

This is what we have become.

Some of us still sneak out to the streets; some pull the netflix covers over their eyes. But as the days wear on, in quarantine, we’re being forced to see our lives, our jobs, our relationships, and our selves without those layers of frantic busyness and protective gauze. Exposed. Naked, squinting at the sun, unsure who we are, uncertain what to do.

*

I’ve been meditating lately on the vast, hidden networks of nature: the mycelium, bacteria, microbiota and yes, the viruses. The original organisms from which complex lifeforms evolved, and likely, the ones who will take over again when humans disappear from this world, adapting to eat up our plastic pollution and radioactive waste, and more immediately, to compost our physical bodies as each of us dies.

Nature is a web, innumerable networks in constantly shifting yin/yang balance. Death is an essential element in that balance. Embracing death brings us back into harmony with the underlying game as it’s played in this world, at every scale, from insects to empires.

Resisting death puts us at odds with the whole natural order.

*

These past few years, I’ve been pulled down into an underworld initiation. I accompanied first my sister and then my mother through the final months of their lives, sitting with them as they took their last breaths. Death is ordinary, terrifying and beautiful all at once. It cracks our hearts open in a way that nothing else can.

So before this new virus appeared, I’d already made friends with the dark and wriggly worlds under those flipped-over rocks. My naked skin had goose-bumped in the cold shadows. I’d felt the grief pooling in my lungs, and seen the world strangely magnified through tears.

I may be a bit further along this path than some of you. But maybe not. For in the bright light of these revelation-times, many of us are showing our hidden battle scars and secret hurts, the ancestral wounds we carry, the loves we’ve lost — all the tiny deaths we’ve not yet mourned and celebrated.

Apocalypse: the uncovering. What happens when the Emperor has no clothes? What happens when I lose my job and social place? What happens when I’m locked in a house alone with my family? When we can’t get food or medicine? When one of us starts coughing? When my competent identity crumbles, and you see who I really am, underneath the facade?

*

I’ve been reluctant to speak these questions out loud.

Many people have reached out to me for soothing, for certainty, for reassurance that we’ll soon be back to normal. Uncharacteristically, I’ve been holding my tongue.

I don’t think we can go back to “normal”.

Forgetful as we human creatures are, I can’t unsee this revelation. On every level, from the meta and systemic to relational and personal, this is where we are now. In the midst of the sixth mass extinction, pounded by climate change, with 20,000 children dying of hunger every day.

Much of our generalized panic about this situation, I believe, is misplaced. We’re focused on personal human deaths, our own or our loved ones. But when I step back, relax my gaze and focus on the bigger pictures here, it’s clear what’s really dying.

Our old, “normal” world has been rotting on its deathbed for decades. That stench in my nostrils is not from a few thousand (or even, soon, a few million) human bodies.

The social order has already broken down, politics is lethal, and nature is drowning in poisons.

Underneath the rocks, below the foundations, the roots are rotten.

And everyone knows it.

Our avoidance of death hasn’t actually stopped our world from dying. It’s just left us delusional, little children with our eyes squeezed shut, fingers plugging our ears, tongues babbling nonononononono.

The coronavirus SARS-CoV-2 has burst that dam of denial. It’s an equal opportunity killer, impacting every nation, rich and poor alike. No more bullshit. No more hiding.

Death is everywhere.

*

As we quarantine in place, isolated in our homes, the truth couldn’t be any plainer.

We can’t survive alone.

We’ve got to come together.

We’re social creatures, relying on each other for food, healing, touch, kindness, understanding, information, and a thousand other services.

Without others, we’re doomed.

And, as this current situation makes abundantly clear — as the virus passes from person to person, from hand to mouth to lungs — we’re also doomed with others.

Doomed if we do, and doomed if we don’t.

That’s the basic fact of life we have forgotten in our modern, go-go-go, scrambling-for-survival world.

Life is short. Death is certain.

Here it comes.

*

I’ve been short and ruthless with my closest friends and students. “I’ve made my peace with Death. You won’t find peace with this virus until you do, too.”

Certainly, protect yourselves and others in the ways that you can. Don’t be foolish. No need to race toward death.

But also don’t be foolish, thinking you can beat death forever.

Let’s take this precious time-out-of-time (while the world is holding its shocked breath, the rocks are kicked over and the curtain’s pulled back on the Wizard of Oz ) — and look deeply into why we’re all so terribly frightened of dying.

So frightened of dying that we’re willing to hide in our houses, let doctors and nurses do our dirty work without protective gear, abandon our grandparents to die alone in nursing homes.

So frightened of dying that we hand our power over to despots, and sacrifice a world worth living in together.

*

This is a moment of truth.

This tiny “enemy” we’re trying to defeat is just another face of Death. (Not to worry, Death has millions more.)

The entire natural world, for billions of years, has been an intricate, ever-changing dance of life and death. That’s the game here on this planet. We’re all just borrowing material from other lifeforms to make our own bodies. They dance together for a number of years, and then decay and are recycled.

It’s a beautiful system, when I surrender to it.

So many cells and atoms and microbes come together to support my personal creation! So many beings give themselves to feed and nourish me each day!

When I stop and really feel that gift, I’m overwhelmed with love and gratitude.

But rather than live with humble gratitude, and die with grace, we humans get selfish. Personally, relationally, economically, politically. We want to grab and hoard and hold on forever.

And in doing so, we miss the point. We may gain a few years, but we lose our hearts and souls.

We can see that clearly in the selfish 0.1% who hoard more wealth than they can ever use. We see the results of our collective greed as it kills off entire species and trashes the living biosphere.

We see that greed and fear strangle our own lives and relationships. Mememememememememe…

We may have separate bodies, but we’re not designed to live (or die) alone.

For better or worse, we’re part of an intricate, unimaginable, mysterious whole.

And when we turn away from Death, we lose our connection to that whole.

*

When my mother died, and the muscles in her face let go, her individual “personality” vanished: the twinkle in her eyes was gone, the way she smiled, the tilt of her head. But in their place, the bones revealed themselves, and in that distinct marble sculpture (the slope of the forehead, the thrust of the jaw) I saw her mother, and her mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother’s mother.

She was clearly part of something bigger, a temporary form borrowed for a handful of years, one face of a lineage that stretches back for millennia.

The rest was compost and ash, returned to the earth, gifts now available for other creatures to create their own turn in this world.

I want to be that let-go, that surrendered to everything: life, death, love, fear, all the beauty in this unfathomable mystery.

I want to enjoy my time in the sun, and then enjoy my time in the dark dreaming night. I want to remember my place in the whole.

*

All the best things in my life were unpredictable surprises. They came when I surrendered and let life take me somewhere new. New love, new work, new place in the world, sometimes even a new sense of self.

The trick, I believe, is not holding on to what life has already given me.

When my time comes, early or late, ugly or beautiful, I want to surrender again, and let death take me somewhere unfathomably new.

I wish the same grace for you: to turn toward apocalypse, curious, open, not knowing who you are, loving all that you’ve been given, maybe scared, maybe not… ready to let go of the old familiar world, and begin to assemble, from the strange scraps and compost and imaginal cells all around and inside you, something humble and connected and new.

Reach out to others. Share your heart, your joys and fears. Give your gifts. Connect to something bigger than yourself, human and more-than-human too.

Embrace the unknown. Be willing to die. A new world can’t come until we finally let go of this one.

We can let a tiny virus do the heavy lifting for us. We can wait for the next virus, and the next.

Or we can push through this birth canal together.

*

A few days before my mother died, when she was getting frustrated and frightened and losing her anchors to reality, I told her, “You’re doing such a great job, Mom! You’ve never tried to die before, and this is all new to you. I think you’re doing this perfectly.”

She smiled the most glorious little-girl smile, and content with herself, finally stopped fussing with the blankets and let go.

And as she died, she showed me that death is not the enemy here.

Death is a doorway to love.

In the same way that birth blows hearts open and changes lives forever, so does death.

Don’t turn away.

Don’t turn away from all that’s dying.

Face it, feel it, mourn it, grieve it.

Let it blow your heart open.

This is the doorway to a new world.

Here, in your lost and scared and grieving heart.

This is the opening.

We’ve never done this before.

But now the lights are on, and we can see where to begin.

 

Follow David Cates https://medium.com/@kauaidavid

View at Medium.com

 

View at Medium.com

 

 

Mourning Dove

I am up and out at 8am on my deck again, listening and watching. I hear what must be a mourning dove cooing. A sound so gentle emitting from the trees, underneath the squawking of jays, the caw of crows, the joyous singing of the red-winged blackbirds. Two ducks come out of the cattails, dark in the shadows of the morning light, and head for the edge of the pond where I can longer see them. Are they nesting there? Is this their time to nest? So much is going on outside. So much to observe and contemplate. What are the wrens singing about? Are they telling each other something important, are they broadcasting sheer happiness? What happened to the wood duck that was there the other day? Do mallards and wood ducks get along?

Is there a way I can watch and listen to nature that will guide me during these uncertain times? Even though I live in the country, I can get caught in distraction and restlessness.

This coronavirus hovering about can lead me to feel anxious and fenced in, sometimes overwhelmed. Again and again, nature encourages me to live in the moment. It also awakens me to a childlike curiosity that feeds my spirit.

My meditation group, now no longer able to gather physically, is still sitting at the same time, once a week. This week, we are invited to envision a better future. What is coronavirus teaching us? How well are we listening? What needs to change, within and without? There’s no doubt that, by sequestering ourselves, we bring more peace to the planet. The air over large cities all over the world is clearing up. Animals are coming out of hiding, understanding we humans are pulling back, taking a break.

Coronavirus is forcing us to look within and ask questions. Are we living a life we can be proud of? Are we listening to Mother Nature and what she is telling us? Can we help others who are suffering more than us? Can we befriend our neighbors at this time, even the ones who differ greatly from us? Can we create a warmer, cooperative, more functional society? A society that is all-inclusive, or are our differences too fundamental? Is it too late to change?

After I ponder these questions, I come back to the sound of the mourning dove’s soft cooing, as other birds carry on, fluttering about and hopping from tree to tree. Her voice is consistent and calm beneath the chaos and activity, her feathers, I imagine, soft and unruffled.

 

After Reading Peterson’s Guide by Linda Pastan

I used to call them

Morning Doves, those birds

with breasts the rosy color

of dawn who coo us awake

as if to say love . . .

love . . . in the morning.

 

But when the book said

Mourning Doves instead

I noticed their ash-gray feathers,

like shadows

on the underside

of love.

 

When the Dark Angel comes

let him fold us in wings

as soft as these birds’,

though the speckled egg

hidden deep in his nest

is death.

The Bodhisattva Response to Coronavirus by Jack Kornfield

“Dear Friends,

 

We have a choice.

Epidemics, like earthquakes, tornadoes and floods, are part of the cycle of life on planet Earth.

How will we respond?

With greed, hatred, fear and ignorance? This only brings more suffering.

Or with generosity, clarity, steadiness and love?

This is the time for love.

 

Time for Bodhisattvas. In Buddhist teachings, the Bodhisattva is someone who vows to

alleviate suffering and brings blessings in every circumstance. A Bodhisattva chooses to

live with dignity and courage and radiates compassion for all, no matter where they find

themselves.

 

This is not a metaphor. As Bodhisattvas we are now asked to hold a certain measure of

the tragedy of the world and respond with love.

 

The Bodhisattva path is in front of us. The beautiful thing is, we can see Bodhisattvas all

around. We see them singing from their balconies to those shut inside. We see them in

young neighbors caring for the elders nearby, in our brave healthcare workers and the

unheralded ones who stock the shelves of our grocery stores.

 

As a father, if she called me, I would fly to the ends of the earth to help and protect my

daughter. Now she and her firefighter/paramedic husband and my toddler grandson

await the virus. His urban fire department, like many hospitals and first responders,

does not have masks. Eighty percent of their work is emergency medical calls and they

all expect to get the virus. They will not be tested, because the department can’t afford to

lose the help of too many of their firefighters.

 

What can I do? What can we do?

 

In this moment we can sit quietly, take a deep breath, and acknowledge our fear and

apprehension, our uncertainty and helplessness… and hold all these feelings with a

compassionate heart. We can say to our feelings and uncertainty, “Thank you for trying

to protect me,” and “I am OK for now.” We can put our fears in the lap of Buddha, Mother

Mary, Quan Yin, place them in the hearts of the generations of brave physicians and

scientists who tended the world in former epidemics.

 

When we do, we can feel ourselves part of something greater, of generations of survivors

in the vast web of history and life, “being carried” as the Ojibwa elders say, “by great

winds across the sky.”

 

This is a time of mystery and uncertainty. Take a breath. The veils of separation are

parting and the reality of interconnection is apparent to everyone on earth. We have

needed this pause, perhaps even needed our isolation to see how much we need one

another.

 

Now it is time to add our part.

The Bodhisattva deliberately turns toward suffering to serve and help those around in

whatever way they can.

This is the test we have been waiting for.

We know how to do this.

 

Time to renew your vow.

Sit quietly again and ask your heart: what is my best intention, my most noble aspiration

for this difficult time?

Your heart will answer.

Let this vow become your North Star. Whenever you feel lost, remember and it will

remind you what matters.

 

It is time to be the medicine, the uplifting music, the lamp in the darkness.

Burst out with love. Be a carrier of hope.

If there is a funeral, send them off with a song.

 

Trust your dignity and goodness.

Where others hoard…..help.

Where others deceive……stand up for truth.

Where others are overwhelmed or uncaring…..be kind and respectful.

 

When you worry about your parents, your children, your beloveds, let your heart open

to share in everyone’s care for their parents, their children and their loved ones. This is

the great heart of compassion. The Bodhisattva directs compassion toward everyone—

those who are suffering and vulnerable and those who are causing suffering. We are in

this together.

 

It is time to reimagine a new world, to envision sharing our common humanity, to

envision how we can live in the deepest most beautiful way possible. Coming through

this difficulty, what we intend and nurture, we can do.

 

In the end, remember who you are is timeless awareness, the consciousness that was

born into your body. You were born a child of the spirit, and even now you can turn

toward the awareness, and become the loving awareness that witnesses yourself reading

and feeling and reflecting.

 

When a baby is born our first response is love.

When a dear one dies, the hand we hold is a gesture of love.

Timeless love and awareness are who you are.

Trust it.

 

Dear Bodhisattva,

The world awaits your compassionate heart.

Let’s join in this great task together.

 

With metta,

Jack”

 

The Bodhisattva Response to Coronavirus

 

My Anxiety and the Unknown; COVID- 19

I am all over the place lately, leaping from fear to peace. I am reflecting what is happening all over the globe: Chaos and fear, yet a slowing down of activities. Sometimes I obsess about all kinds of things: Will I get this illness? Will I die a horrible death? Do I have enough tp? What if one of my caregivers gets sick and spreads the virus to others? What if I am left with no caregivers? How do I clean properly? Did I wipe down the doorknobs after someone left? What if I forgot? Anxiety loves this kind of stuff. It thrives on it.

And then, suddenly I am peaceful and feel wide open and content. Calm. And more connected to nature. The trees around my house seem more vibrant than ever. I watch the ducks in the pond happily waddling about, and I breathe more deeply. The red-winged blackbirds sing their delight at being alive and dive in and out of the cattails. Sometimes I go outside and sit on the earth and cry. I don’t know what I’m crying about, but tears run down my face. I sob. It feels good to do so. And I feel supported by the earth when I do.

Yesterday, while I was out there, Simon, our cat, came and sat with me and then curled up in my lap. We both surveyed the pond, the meadow, the hills. And I thought: If all humankind died, the earth  would heal and that thought gave me peace. I love my friends, family and community, and sometimes am able to love all humankind, but, as my mother used to say, “We are the most destructive species on the planet.” She was right and it’s a hard fact to sit with.

Sometimes, I open my heart to not knowing. Not knowing if certain people I know and love will survive. Not knowing if local businesses will survive. Not knowing how long the virus will survive. And these thoughts take me to the big “I Don’t Know” – the mysteries of The Universe. And this thought leads to Freedom.

 

 

Hope – Excerpt from the Book I Never Finished

As people dealing with the ongoing struggle with our bodies, hope is a quality that is sure to enter our life at one point or another. When we wake up to the too-familiar pain in our joints or the weakness in our heart, or whatever is still waiting for us, it is easy to touch or give into fear, despair or bitterness. Hope is a wish that arises from the heart and offers us a chance at something better and keeps us going. Hope reminds us we often do not know the outcome of our illness, that science and technology are always expanding, that there are so many alternatives out there still to try. Hope whispers to us of all sorts of possibilities, and that whisper propels us forward and encourages us to not give up.

That being said, my own relationship with hope is not always an easy one. There have been times when I’ve lost hope, when I’ve given up hope, when I’ve clung to it. There’ve been times when it seems to me that to have any kind of hope that my health would ever change for the better was a dangerous tactic to take, as it could become a set-up for disappointment and then a plunge into dark emotions.

It is a good idea to look at our own relationship with hope and ask ourselves a few questions: What are we hoping for, exactly? A cure? A healing? An improved condition? A full recovery? Should our hope be “realistic” – whatever that is? Should we let go of hope altogether, because it creates a striving in the heart that just perpetuates more suffering? Perhaps if we’re to hope for anything, we should hope for an open heart to our on-going experience… but if that’s all we hope for, does it shut us down to any physical change?

At the onset of our illness, before we understand that it is a chronic condition, most of us hope for a full recovery or cure. Let’s be honest. We want our bodies to function as well as they did before we got sick. We miss how active our lives were and we yearn to “get back into the game”. But, as time goes by and we try various treatments and practitioners, we start to see that maybe a cure isn’t in the cards for us. We begin to see that yearning for such a thing takes us out of our life and away from the possibility of experiencing any happiness with things as they are right here and now. As we listen to our body’s needs and stories with compassionate awareness, we realize what we’ve been longing for all along is a healing and that healing is a wholeness that includes everything we experience as a human being: our bodies, our stories about our bodies, our fears, desires, our ups and downs, etc. This kind of healing doesn’t mean our bodies will suddenly be cured. “Healing” and “curing” in this case, mean two different things.

It can take us a while before we come to this conclusion. We begin by exploring beneath the surface of hope where there is often fear, loss and sometimes, desperation lurking. Having the courage to meet these powerful emotions from the soft places in our heart, encourages us to cultivate a kind of hope that buoys us, rather than feeds our fears of never getting well. Through the lens of this sort of exploration, we move into the spaciousness that allows the ultimate hope, the ultimate healing: We come into alignment with our innermost essence, from which all possible outcomes are born. This kind of open hope moves us away from a fear-based one that clutches at one particular outcome. Sharon Salzberg, Buddhist teacher and author, calls this “fixated hope”. She writes: “Fixated hope”…. like hope itself, resembles faith in that both sparkle with a sense of possibility. But, fixated hope is conditional, circumscribing happiness to getting what we want… when our hope for relief from suffering is based only on getting what we want, in the precise way we want it, we bind hope to fear, rather than to faith.”

“Buddhism regards fixated hope and fear as two sides to the same coin. When we hope for a particular outcome to arise or a desire to be met, we invariably fear it won’t happen. Thus, we move from hope to fear to hope from fear in an endless loop.”

I understand that loop intimately. And I understand another kind of hope; one that takes us out of that loop and inspires us to move forward. Some years ago, I had to detox from an antidepressant I had been taking for sleep, because it no longer worked for me. The process had left me anxious and fragile and my sleep worse than ever. On top of that, I had lost hope and became despairing that anything could help me as I had tried so many different remedies and medications – some of which worked for a while and then at some point, my body would habituate to it and no longer be of any help. This kind of process was a long and difficult one – one I’ve repeated again and again – first lifting my hopes, just to have them dashed again. The fragile physical state I was in at this point, deeply affected my emotional and mental states, and not only that, the specialist I had been seeing inferred that he had run out of things to try with me. What was I to do? Seek out yet another doctor? Find a new practitioner? I felt completely overwhelmed and was in a state of great anguish. As I often do when in dire straits and can’t see my way out, I called on people from my support system. One night a good friend came over to help out and when I told her all of my fears (what if there was nothing out there for me and I’d have to live this way for the rest of my life), she gently reminded me none of us knew what was around the corner, that the future held all kinds of possibilities beyond our knowing at this time. I listened to her intently and later stood out on my deck and looked up at the dark and clouded sky. Just then, like a schmaltzy movie, the clouds parted and revealed this glowing golden moon that I hadn’t noticed before, because I had been too caught up in my own despair. In that moment, my energy shifted, and that despair left my body. And in its place, hope moved in. Soon after that, I went back to my original doctor who determined that the combination of medications I had been on might have caused a reaction in me that made my sleeping more difficult than usual.

I want to be clear here. I am not suggesting that just because I was able to shift my energy, I was able to find better solutions — there are too many variables to know why any outcome comes to pass (see my January 3, 2020 blog post Creating Your Own Reality). I am suggesting that by moving into an open hope that has no set outcome in mind, aligns us with that which will work best for us in whatever condition we find ourselves. It allows us the ability to receive a new answer, whether it be acceptance or a step in a direction we may not have considered (or noticed) before. By letting go of fear (not always an easy feat for us) we bring about a greater potential for change.

Another element we would do well to cultivate here is equanimity. Living with the ups and downs of difficult symptoms, it is easy to emotionally feel on a roller coaster as well. We’re ecstatic when our blood work comes back negative after a long struggle with cancer, only to be devastated when, six months later, those same test results come back positive. Cultivating a kind of hope that is centered in equanimity, gives us an emotional balance with which to deal with the volatility of our lives. A good example of this, is the story of the old farmer. One day his horse ran off. When his neighbors heard, they dropped by. “How awful!”, they said, hoping to comfort him. “Maybe”, was all the farmer answered. The next day, the horse came back with three wild horses in tow. This time, when the neighbors came by, they said, “What great luck!”. “Maybe”, said the farmer. The next afternoon, his son attempted to break in one of the new horses but was thrown off and broke his leg. The neighbors showed up. “I’m so sorry, what a terrible loss!”. “Maybe”, replied the old man. The following morning, two military men came by looking to draft young, able-bodied men into the Army. When they saw his son, they moved on to the next farm. The neighbors congratulated him on his good fortune. “Maybe”, said the farmer.

Maintaining a hope with this kind of equilibrium while we deal with all our physical discomforts may feel like an impossibility, but I find it a good model to look toward. After years of struggle with getting good sleep, I’ve noticed that when I stumble upon a new remedy, etc., that helps me get a decent night’s sleep, there is always something inside that asks “Will this last?”. It so far never has. I have learned to develop a “maybe” attitude. Maybe it’ll be this way for the rest of my life, but maybe it’ll be better at times, and maybe worse. Meanwhile, whatever happens, my mental and spiritual goal is to maintain an even-keeled attitude, understanding like the farmer, that all mind states pass, eventually.

You can also practice the quality of equanimity to help you along. Just as with loving kindness meditation, you can construct phrases to meditate on (see my April and May 2019 blog posts Introduction to Loving Kindness and Loving Kindness, Part II). Jack Kornfield, Buddhist teacher and author, offers these phrases:

“May I be balanced and at peace”.                                                                                             “May I learn to see the arising and passing of all nature with equanimity and balance”.

Of course, you can create your own phrases that better reflect your circumstances.

“May I meet the arising and passing of phenomena in my body with ease and balance”.

Just like with loving kindness meditation, the more you practice, the more the phrases become a part of you instead of just wishful thinking.

In the end, I have found hope to be an essential ingredient on the spiritual path of chronic illness. Hope has come to mean for me a way of holding space for all possible positive outcomes. I make sure I leave space for miracles.

On the one end of my personal spectrum of hope, I Ieave space for the possibility of deep sleep and no seizure activity, to enough sleep to keep me functioning well enough and little seizure activity. Failing that, I hope to have an attitude and a relationship towards my health that is kind, compassionate and equanimous. Hope then, is an antidote to despair, bitterness, and a closed and fearful heart.

“When my house burned down, I gained an unobstructed view of the moonlit sky.”                                                                                                             ~ Zen Poet Mizuta Masahide

 

For more information:

Jack Kornfield (equanimity, loving kindness meditation) https://jackkornfield.com/meditation-equanimity/

Sharon Salzberg (fixated hope) Faith: Trusting Your Own Deepest Experience. Riverhead Books (2003)

 

burn burnt candle candlelight
Photo by Tucu0103 Bianca on Pexels.com

Poems: These two poems are from the lovely and talented Helen Falandes.

Do the Next Two Things

After the last friends depart

empty glasses and cups

are collected and washed,

the floor swept and that first night alone

the best I can do

is the next two things.

Feed the cat.

Make tea.

Shower.

Dress.

Braid my hair.

Discard the obvious junk mail.

This is how to get through

when the light and dark

are completely different

slants and hues,

when every moment’s routine

holds the unexpected news

of your absence.

Feed the cat.

Empty the dish rack.

Fold the blanket.

Clear the answering machine.

Pick up the empty can

tossed out by the mailbox.

Bless the dust which

can be wiped away,

dirty laundry that can be washed clean,

the path that can be shoveled clear of snow.

Bless the hungry cat.

~ Helen Falandes – 2/07

 

Start Again Now

Start again now

As often as needed

Choking on the dust of falling walls

Gather stones and bricks

Start again now

Glue the broken edges

Match up at least

The larger pieces

Start again now

Dislodge what blocks

The narrow airway

Hear ragged breath

As new music

Start again now

Gather the wooly tangles

Take two sticks

Re-knit any pattern

That forms itself to cloth

                                        ~ Helen Falandes

 

 

 

A Journey into the Dark

Sometimes things come together: I sleep well enough to enjoy my day, and, after checking my daily to-do list, see that there is nothing that really needs to get done. It suddenly occurs to me that I could visit my friends Jesse and Shay, who live a little more than an hour north from me, and have my caregiver Jenna drive me.

When she arrives, I tell her my idea and find out she’s up for it. Let’s get out of town!

The day is perfect for an outing. It’s nearly the end of August and there’s a bit of coolness in the air, the heaviness of summer lifting for a bit.

We leave town and immediately get on the highway. We pass steep hills full of leaning redwoods and pines and I feel my senses awaken. Traveling – even a short trip out of town, always opens up my world, reminding me there’s more to life than the inside of my mind and the confines of my home.

Image T Redwoods

Jenna and I converse on the way there. She’s only been working for me for a short time and this gives me a chance to get to know her better. She tells me a little about her unhappy childhood – growing up as an only child in a small town outside of Madison, Wisconsin and how she tended to her lonely spirit by climbing trees and watching all kinds of critters. I learn that she has moved around a lot since an adult, until she arrived in Mendocino County ten years ago and realized she had finally found her home.

I tell Jenna I need a break from conversing, knowing that when we arrive at Jesse and Shay’s, there’ll be plenty of it. I don’t want my brain to go on over-load before we get there and spoil the visit.

I turn and look out the window. We are passing through the tiny town of Laytonville, which holds not a whole lot more than a gas station, a general store and a few small restaurants. Old hippies live here side-by-side with rednecks pretty much amiably, it seems to me.

The road flattens out as does the scenery – there are less trees here, revealing gentle hills that are golden brown from parched grasses.

Finally, we reach Bells Springs Road and I direct Jenna to turn right onto it. The car immediately climbs, pavement turning to dirt and gravel. The washboard road jostles our bodies as we drive up and up, rounding one curve after another, a cloud of dust following. Occasionally, there is a break between madrone and manzanita on the right, revealing spectacular views of ridges spreading out for miles, with no houses in sight.

Eventually, just as I am becoming impatient, the road straightens out and we arrive at their driveway, which is steep but short, guarded by a large gargoyle leering at us at the base. We park at the top at level ground and get out.

Image gargoyle Strasb Cath

I am always struck by the quiet here. I pause and take a moment, breathing in the stillness, which is settling after such a long and bumpy ride.

We stretch our legs and look around before nearing the house. Two large goddess statues line the pathway, almost as tall as full-grown women. Flat rocks nearby them have been carefully stacked creating a natural tower.

balance blur boulder close up
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The house is unusual – what I would call a Northern California home, probably built back in the 70’s. It is weathered and rambling with two stories and sits amongst trees. Two decks are connected by a narrow walkway, which leads to the front door. As we walk in that direction, we pass potted plants and a large stack of wood, forcing us to walk single-file.

I hear voices call out and see Jesse and Shay out on the front deck. When Jenna and I reach them, I introduce everybody, then hug my friends hard – it’s been too long since we’ve gotten together.

A big oak tree bends over the deck, one of its huge branches almost touching it. Beside us is a carefully and lovingly constructed ornamental terraced garden. There are small, meandering pathways and a tiny pond with a run-off that’s gently burbling. It’s truly a thing of beauty.

Gardening has always been one of Jesse’s passions Faerie GardenIMG_3808 and has kept her busy over the years, but now that she’s in a wheelchair, she can no longer tend to this incredible creation of hers and has taken to making what she calls “faerie gardens”, that line the deck.  These miniature gardens that she has worked on meticulously are made up of tiny plants made to look like trees, with elfin bridges, houses, and even people, and not one of them is the same.

Faerie GardenIMG_3751 They reveal the patience Jesse has, Faerie GardenIMG_3811 which is one of her most admirable traits, along with her great intelligence.

We take our seats and immediately launch into deep conversation. I have known these women for a very long time, so there is no need for small talk and pleasantries. Although I haven’t seen them for months, in many ways it feels like yesterday.

Inevitably, the conversation turns to health. Last year, Jesse was diagnosed with cancer. Surgery became necessary and she has recently finished rounds of chemo. Her hair has just started coming back and when I rub my hand across her head, I’m surprised with how soft it is. She talks about frequent doctor visits, anticipating test results, and the hardship of having to go to Ukiah for appointments, almost 2 hours away. As she talks, I check out her appearance more closely and realize she’s lost a lot of weight, which concerns me. Nevertheless, she seems cheerful and talkative, and my concern, at least for her emotional well-being, begins to wane.

Locally: Cancer Resource Center of Mendocino County https://crcmendocino.org/

It’s Shay, really, that worries me more. She has suffered from depression since she was a teenager. Her voice is often flat, and she sleeps a lot and has little vital energy. Jesse’s cancer has certainly added to her mental state, and so our talk turns to her struggles.

For information and to learn the symptoms of depression: https://www.apa.org/topics/depression/

She has been on antidepressants for some time. At first, she had a hard time adjusting to one medication, but then they gave her some relief. But not long after, the effects abated then stopped working altogether. The doctors wanted to increase her dosage, which she did, and that helped briefly, but then again, stopped working. Discouraged, she cut back, but found it difficult on her body and even though she’d like to go off altogether, it became too hard to do, so she has given up and stayed on them, even though she no longer feels any relief.

She has also gone to therapy, read countless books on depression, quit sugar altogether and changed her diet. But all this has had no effect on her body/mind.

“The only thing that really helps”, she says, “That really gets me out of my head is being creative.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “I can get in this zone and it takes me away from everything and into this other world.”

Shay is an incredible artist, with many interests. Her main focuses have been jewelry, painting and drawing. Her studio is a work of art itself: Sketches are set up here and there. Cups and cases hold pens, colored pencils and brushes in various shapes and sizes. Tiny drawers hold all sorts of beads, necklaces, chains and clasps. Easels lean against walls. There are leather-bound journals with her creations in them, reams of paper for watercolors, as well as others’ artwork – from small sculptures to paintings to help inspire her.

After Shay speaks, Jesse adds, her voice becoming soft, “What’s hard for me is seeing how her depression affects her self-esteem. She’s so damn hard on herself!” Tears spring to her eyes.

I know this to be true. Shay constantly puts herself down, downplays her artistic abilities, compares herself to others in many areas of her life, and often, in her mind, coming up short. It’s painful for me to see this in her. I love my friend dearly and know her not only to be talented, but extremely kind, sensitive and thoughtful. I only wish she could turn those qualities towards herself.

Jenna chimes in, “Well, I’m not clinically depressed, but I have my days and my cycles with it. When the days turn into weeks, I start to microdose myself with magic mushrooms. It works for me. It interrupts the cycle.”

We’re all interested in what she has to say, and barrage her with questions. What kind of mushrooms? How much do you take? Do you get high? Can you take it with antidepressants and other medications?

Jenna answers carefully. “I can only speak from my own experience. I take a teeny weeny bit of psilocybin and I don’t get high. But, I feel…” She thinks a bit, “I feel better, is all I can say. Different. Something shifts inside, and my brain resets itself.” She shrugs, as if to say, “That’s the best I can do to explain myself”. “And I want to be clear here: I don’t know if it will work for you. I don’t know if you can take it with your meds. I don’t have all the answers.” She shakes her head with a sad expression on her face. “And unfortunately, I’ve run out of mushrooms myself and don’t know where to get any.”

We’re all quiet, taking in all this information.

“I do think,”, Jenna adds, “That if you ever try it – don’t do it alone. Have someone there with you. I’d be willing to do that with you, if you’d like.”

“But you don’t have any,”, Jesse says, making sure. “No. But I’m looking. I could let you know if I find anything.”

Shay sighs, sounding weary, but says “Well I like the idea of taking something natural…” She drifts off, “I’m not sure if I’m up for something new.”

I understand this reaction. I’ve tried so many other things over the years and got my hopes up: Maybe this will work. Often, I don’t get the results I want, or it makes me feel worse and/or gives me intolerable side effects. Even something as simple and benign like vitamin B-12 to help feed my nervous system, took me a long time to try out. I just did not want to be disappointed yet again.

There’s a lull in the conversation and suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, their scraggly black, Noche (with a tiny spot of white on the tip of his tail), shows up demanding attention, putting smiles on our faces. More shadows have moved in on the porch, taking over most of the sun spots. As much as I don’t want to leave, it’s best that we get on the road before it becomes too dark.

We reluctantly say our goodbyes and as we pull out of their driveway, I look back and see Shay holding Noche and waving at us.

We’re quiet as we head home as I process the visit. Seeing these beloved friends always warms my heart, but breaks it, too, if that’s possible. I realize I want to “fix” Shay, as others seem to want to “fix” me, but I know it’s not possible and that hurts. Maybe, if Shay wants to try them, those mushrooms will help, I think, as we whiz by trees and hills. And maybe they won’t.

Microdosing – disclaimer:  I am not endorsing the use of illegal or potentially dangerous drugs/medications. The subject of microdosing is only to inform my readers.

Psychedelic Times: “How to Find Psychedelic Treatment for your Psychological Disorder” Posted by Wesley Thoricatha April 28, 2017  Articles, Psychedelic Integration, Psychedelic Therapy 3 https://psychedelictimes.com/find-psychedelic-treatment-psychological-disorder/

“It’s also important to know that not all psychological disorders lend themselves well to psychedelic treatment. While there is no scientific basis for the propaganda that psychedelics can “make you crazy,” it has been suggested that those with latent schizophrenia could have their condition triggered early by a strong psychedelic experience. Keep in mind this is still a new frontier of research, and people with certain medical conditions or on certain medications should absolutely not take certain psychedelics. Any properly run treatment clinic will have a full physical and mental health screening before treatment, and walk you through any  contraindications that may be revealed. We do not endorse any illegal behavior, but from a harm reduction perspective, anyone who chooses underground treatment should exercise extreme levels of research, discernment, and safety precautions throughout the process.”

“Finding Integration Support – Beyond the psychedelic journey itself, integration of the experience after the fact plays a critical role in ensuring that the insights, progress, inspiration gained are translated into daily life in a sustainable way. Whether you are fresh out of an underground ayahuasca ceremony that helped you deal with childhood trauma, or a recent outpatient of an iboga center that helped you detox from an opiate addiction; a few weeks or months of integration support from someone who understands psychedelic treatment is immensely beneficial in securing your new goals, perspectives and commitments.” …

“Releasing the Stigma – One of the most insidious aspects of mental illnesses is the stigma that surrounds them. Despite the statistics that show how common these disorders are, our culture still often adopts a “toughen up and go it alone” approach, leading many to isolate themselves and be fearful of speaking up about their condition, much less seek help. Psychotherapy, prescription medications, and conventional rehab centers do help many people stabilize their lives, but sometimes these routes are not enough to fully eradicate the pain, trauma, and stress that lay at the core of the disorder, leading people to simply numb their symptoms without seeking true healing.” “Radical shifts in behavior, self-image, and wellbeing are something that psychedelics excel at when used appropriately, but not everyone is able to travel abroad for psychedelic treatment or willing to find underground options. The single most important thing that anyone suffering from an addiction or mental disorder can do is to speak up about it to their loved ones and seek help. Shame and stigma surrounding these issues should be forever discarded, as these conditions are an  integral part of the human condition, and everyone faces stress, challenges, and addictive habits in their own way.”

Glamour Magazine website: “Microdosing, Depression, and the Trippy Future of Mental Health Treatments, Psychedelics are a fringe frontier of mental health treatments. But are they safe?” By Deanna deBara, September 5, 2019 https://www.glamour.com/story/microdosing-for-depression-does-it-work

… “Carina*, a 59-year-old therapist in Oregon, sees the ripple effects of the anxiety and stress of our current cultural climate every day in her work—and in her personal life. She has struggled with depression for much of her career, managing it with regular therapy sessions and movement practices like yoga and dance, but when she found herself struggling with a particularly challenging depressive episode in the wake of the #MeToo movement, she began exploring alternative treatment modalities.”

“That’s when she was introduced to microdosing for depression. “So much of depression is feeling stuck,” says Carina. “Microdosing has helped me get out of preservation mode; it helped me get out of the stuck places and see that there are options.”

“Shrooms (aka psychedelic mushrooms) and LSD have a rich résumé of providing a hallucinatory high, and we’re in the midst of a psychedelic resurgence. The recent interest in psychedelics isn’t a throwback to the ’60s so much as it is the potential future of mental health treatment—especially for depression and anxiety.”

“The goal of microdosing is not to get you high. As the name implies, the practice involves taking a small amount—a microdose—of psilocybin (in the form of mushrooms) or LSD every few days. Unlike higher doses of psychedelics, which typically produce the “trip” experience these substances are most known for, the effect of microdosing is much more subtle. Most people start with “around 10ug of LSD (around a tenth of a tab) or 0.1g of dried psilocybin mushrooms,” according to The Third Wave, a psychedelic education resource. (The “right” dose varies from person to person. You should never take any substance without consulting your doctor first.)”

“Psychedelics aren’t legal—they’re currently classified as Schedule I drugs by the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration, meaning there’s “no currently accepted medical use and a high potential for abuse.” (For the record, cannabis is also classified as a Schedule I drug by the DEA.) That poses some considerable risks. Because psychedelics aren’t legal, they aren’t regulated. There’s no way of knowing what you’re getting, where it’s coming from, or how strong it is, which can put your safety in jeopardy.”

Medical News Today “Psychedelics: Risks and benefits of microdosing revealed: New research, published in the journal ACS Chemical Neuroscience, finds both potential benefits and risks of using psychedelic microdosing to treat mental health problems. The study reveals effects on cognitive skills and sociability, as well as metabolic and neuronal consequences.” By Ana Sandoiu on March 4, 2019 https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/324609.php#1

“An emerging body of research is making a case for using psychedelic drugs to treat mental health issues.”

“For instance, two studies published last year showed that psilocybin, the active psychedelic compound in magic mushrooms, alleviated symptoms of treatment-resistant depression.”

“Moreover, the psilocybin did so without causing any side effects of conventional antidepressants. Such side effects typically include emotional blunting or apathy.”

“People who use psychedelics to improve their mental health and boost their overall well-being tend to do so with a technique called microdosing. Taking microdoses of a psychedelic drug means taking only a fraction of a dose that is required to have a full-blown psychedelic experience, or “trip.”…

“The lead researcher is David Olson, Ph.D., an assistant professor in the departments of Chemistry and Biochemistry and Molecular Medicine at the University of California, Davis.”

… “conflicting results may suggest that an acute dose of psychedelic substances affects the brain differently from intermittent microdoses.”

“Side effects notwithstanding, say the authors, the current results are promising because they suggest that researchers can separate the psychedelic effects from the therapeutic ones.”

“Our study demonstrates that psychedelics can produce beneficial behavioral effects without drastically altering perception, which is a critical step towards producing viable medicines inspired by these compounds,” says Olson.”

“This is the first time anyone has demonstrated in animals that psychedelic microdosing might actually have some beneficial effects, particularly for depression or anxiety. It’s exciting, but the potentially adverse changes in neuronal structure and metabolism that we observe emphasize the need for additional studies.” David Olson, Ph.D.”

Refinery29 – “Can Microdosing Psychedelic Mushrooms Curb Your Anxiety?” By Cory Stieg, August 7, 2019 https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/2019/08/238497/microdosing-psilocybin-mushrooms-benefits-depression-anxiety

“Microdosing, or taking tiny amounts of a drug daily, does more than just get people mildly high. Specifically, psychedelics such as LSD (which is very similar to psilocybin, pharmacologically speaking) act on the neurotransmitter system, serotonin, which is widely used in traditional antidepressant drugs, says Harriet De Wit, PhD, founder and primary investigator in the Human Behavioral Pharmacology Laboratory at the University of Chicago. “So, there is some neurochemical rationale for the possibility that it improves mood,” she says. Compared to traditional antidepressants, which can take weeks to take effect, microdoses of LSD have been shown to have marginal subjective effects after just one administration”, she adds.”

“All of this points to the greater need for research into promising drugs like psilocybin. Most experts agree that psychedelic drugs have a lot of potential — either taken in microdoses or in combination with psychotherapy with psychological guidance. “This is an exciting new chapter in psychiatric research,” Dr. De Wit says.”

 

Gargoyle Image from https://pixabay.com/photos/gargoyle-cathedral-strasbourg-1663459/

Click the link below for cancer centers in your area. National Cancer Institute: NCI-  Designated Cancer Centers https://www.cancer.gov/research/nci-role/cancer-centers

 

Faerie GardenIMG_4051

 

 

 

 

 

 

Creativity

“The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider’s web.”                                                                                                                                                ~ Pablo Picasso

 

The following is another excerpt from my unfinished book.

Creativity

Years ago, during a meditation session, I realized we are beings that are constantly creating, if only in our thoughts. I also realized that when we are in the act of creating something, we are connecting with Creation itself. A special relationship is forged as we link up with that essence, and we feel energized, plugged-in, an open channel. Any act of creation begins with that connection and ends with an outer expression of that connection. This process is healing as we feel those creative juices flow through us and we find yet another way to connect with our innermost self.

Finding a creative outlet can be very useful for those of us with chronic health challenges. Instead of vegging-out in front of the TV, getting lost in cyberspace for hours, or spiraling into depression or anxiety, we can focus our energy toward something that really nourishes our spirit.  When we are being creative, we can shift our mood and

Artist - Depression Mystical Animals
From Emma Taggart    “My Modern    Met”       Artist Dawid Planeta

redirect that energy, transforming the chaos of fear or despair into the exciting chaos of creativity and by doing so, free up any numb, stuck places. It gives us a constructive outlet for all that we experience.

Being creative doesn’t require a certain level of expertise. Anyone can pick up a pen or a paintbrush. What is required, is a desire to play, to experiment, to explore, and to listen to what wants to be expressed. It also doesn’t mean you have to end up with a polished finished product. The outcome is often beside the point. Being creative can be as simple as playing your favorite music while dancing in your kitchen, or doodling on a piece of paper while you wait in a doctor’s office. It doesn’t mean you have to write a novel or to be published to write, or paint a landscape and have an art show to dabble in watercolors, which is really good news for those of us with limited energy. What’s important is to be engaged in the process and to allow the creative force to move through you with as little constraint as possible.

Most of us, at one time or another, experience blocks in our creativity. I think a large percentage of the time the reason for this is the critical voices in our head: “I’m too old for this”, “I’ve never taken a class”, “this is stupid”, or “Debra is really good at this – I’ll never be as good as her”.

During meditation, when critical voices arise, I try to recognize their tones for what they are, and to the best of my ability, take note of them and continue meditating. They can be handled the same way in regard to creativity. When the critic starts in, we can just say hello and continue what we’re doing. If it persists, we can set aside what we’re doing and take out a journal and let the voices have their say. We can write it all out as if they were talking and write until we can’t write any more. We may uncover something useful: We may recognize the voice of our mother, or our second grade teacher. Then, when we’re through, we can go back to writing that poem, creating that dance, painting that picture.

Another way of freeing up blocks is to try a different outlet for a bit. If we’re blocked with the still-life we’re painting, we can try our hand at a clay sculpture, or pick up the kazoo. There is something about trying out a different venue that can free up stuckness in another. It may be just that by taking a break from your particular creative endeavor and putting your attention elsewhere that makes a difference, or just allowing space for the flow of creativity, but I’ve seen this happen many times within myself.

Image Maluma Drummer Girl

Tapping into the creative can be a powerful and intense process that can have the side effect of bringing about a healing catharsis. I have a friend who began to have memories of early childhood sexual abuse. She started to make abstract pictures – nonverbal expressions of what she went through so long ago. She had never tried her hand at art before, but suddenly felt a compelling need to do so. During the process, she became possessed – spending hours working on them, for weeks. Afterwards, she had a series of probably ten pictures, which she shared with friends. The pictures were haunting and disturbing, especially the first ones, and then they became lighter and more hopeful, reflecting her inner process.

Another friend of mine had a car accident and suffered head trauma. She ultimately had to leave her job, because of her incapacitating symptoms. The accident changed her life completely and she was obviously distraught. She, too, began to make abstract pictures with an urgent need to express herself. Making these pictures became her main focus, churning out several pictures daily.

Creating an expression of your particular health challenge may be something you want to do.

Also, finding an outlet that is non-verbal can reach into the deepest parts of ourselves          that are beyond words, and

         2019-11-05 (3)                                                                                                                                                                   can satisfy a profound need in us.           

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Credits: Playing for Change “Everyday People” video on YouTube

 

One particular hard time in my life, I was experiencing partial seizures regularly. Because of cognitive problems, describing in words how my body felt was too difficult for me, so I drew a picture instead that was

Drawing Whole Body Electrical Dance
Maluma – Inner-body Experience

much more expressive of my inner experience. Everyone I showed it to, had a visceral reaction to it that gave me a sense that they understood how it must feel to be me, leaving me feeling more connected with them and less isolated, altogether.

 

 

Image Frida Kahlo Without Hope1945
“Without Hope” Frida Kahlo, 1945

When I’m not feeling well, but want to dabble in something new and different, I can easily become overwhelmed and can’t think of what I’d like to do. When that’s the case, I choose from a list of things I made up when I was feeling better. You might want to do the same for yourself. The following is a list you might want to consider, made up of activities that range in energy level.

Try this: Take a small jar and fill it with some dried beans. Put on your favorite music and shake your new, instant percussion instrument.

Try this: Take out a pad of paper and pick a topic, any topic, and for the next ten minutes, write without stopping and no crossing out. Just let your mind take off. This technique was developed by Natalie Goldberg, who has written many books on writing as a spiritual practice (1986). To stimulate your creativity, I highly recommend Julia Cameron’s books.

Try this: Make a collage. Your library or your doctor’s office may have old magazines that they’ll let you have. Bring the magazines home and cut out images and/or phrases that appeal or inspire you. Have fun with it. You may want to have a theme in mind when you do it, or just want to create something of beauty you can look at later.

Try this: Buy a cardstock and envelopes at a craft store. Use some of the images you cut out for collages and in no time flat, you have pretty cards for various occasions.

Try this: Make a model from a store-bought kit.

Try this: Buy adult coloring books at your local bookstore. Instead of using crayons to color with, buy a small set of watercolors, instead.

Try this: Buy a set of colored pencils and a pad.                                                                                                                                Put on your favorite music and                                                                                           let yourself go.                           

 

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Credit: Playing for Change “Love Train” video on YouTube

Image Kids Dancing hiphop pluspng.com
Credit: Transparent PNG Images

  

Try this: Go to the library, to the arts and crafts section and peruse. If something catches your eye, check it out.

 

Try this: Make a list of all the creative hobbies you’ve always wanted to do. Remember how you’ve always wanted to knit a sweater? Now’s the time.

Try this: Go for a walk. Collect pine cones, sticks, shells, a feather.  Buy an embroidery hoop at a craft store. Make a mobile.

Image Chorale Angel City Africa from Sunnyskyz
Credit to Sunny Skyz: The Angel City Chorale performs Toto’s “Africa.”

 

Consider this: Creativity with others.

The other day, when feeling too ill to write, I took out my colored pencils and pad of pages, and my caregiver and I made some drawings. I decided my cats were the perfect inspiration.

Drawing Zoe the Beautiful        Drawing Queen Regina

Try this: Using watercolors, colored pencils, pastels or??? and a big pad of paper, create an abstract picture of your symptoms. Don’t overthink this … just grab colors that speak to you, and go. Because symptoms fluctuate, you may want to do a series of pictures. What was it like to do this? How do you feel afterwards?

“The idea is like a blueprint; it creates an image of the form, Drawing Day 9 I decide I like Valiumwhich then magnetizes and guides the physical energy to flow into that form and eventually manifests it on the physical plane”. ~ Shakti Gawain  

Drawing Jumping Out of My Skin  “In a general sense, all artists are shamans, insomuch as they are channeling images or concepts on behalf of the collective”.  ~ Vicki Noble 

Drawing When Someone Asks Me How I'm Doing\

DEAFinitely Dope: Handing rap music to the deaf

2019-11-16 (4) Matt Maxey was diagnosed with profound hearing loss at an early age but has made music his life’s passion.  DEAFinitely Dope: Handing rap music to the deaf Matt Maxey was diagnosed with profound hearing loss at an early age but has made music his life’s passion. 

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