Gratitude

“Remind yourself that it’s up to you whether you actually experience gratitude and the preciousness of your life. The fleetingness and the rareness of it, or whether you become more resentful, and harsh and embittered and feel more and more cheated. It’s up to you how the law of karma all works out.” ~ Pema Chodron

It is not easy to feel thankful when we are chronically ill; in fact, sometimes we feel cheated out of life when we have yet another bout of pain, or have to go through the red tape required to get the financial assistance we may need, or start on yet another medication with possible side effects. We may find ourselves comparing our capabilities to others’ and coming up short. We are affected by a society which tells us acquiring more possessions will make us happy, along with a flurry of activities, a driving ambition, and worldly achievements. The inner spiritual life is not spoken of; seemingly left to hermits, gurus, and other spiritual masters we have heard about. Keeping this in mind, it’s not surprising that we find ourselves complaining and wanting our lives to be different than what they are.

Therefore, in order to manifest gratitude, we must cultivate it by practicing it regularly. Like any other discipline, be it exercise or meditation, in order to get the best results, just by doing it once in a while, isn’t going to get it. With regular gratitude practice, we develop a greater appreciation for our lives, despite the struggle in them.

There are several ways I know to practice gratitude. The following is a short, yet powerful practice:

Before settling in for the night, think of three things you are grateful for. I found that no matter how hard it has been for me that day, I could always come up with three things. They can be as basic but as needed as the breath that moves through your body, or the roof over your head. This practice can wake you up to what you do have and what is working in your life.

Another practice I recommend to activate gratitude, is to make a list of things you are grateful for. Perhaps you could put this list on your fridge or your mirror – some place where you are most apt to see it, in order to remind yourself. Some items on my list are my partner of 25 years, my caregivers, and that I live in the country. When you really begin to think about it, a lot comes to mind. It can shake us up doing this practice, because it puts us in touch with all the little things we take for granted.

Another practice is to start a gratitude journal. Recently, for a week, I did just that. Before, I made lists, but I thought I’d take it a step further and see what would happen with journaling. I wasn’t sure it would bring me anything different. But it did. It allowed me to go deeper into the feeling of gratitude by going into the fine details instead of skimming the surface.

Instead of just saying “I am grateful for the rain”, I wrote: “This morning I am grateful for the rain, the way it soothes the ground, saturating it, smells of the earth rising up, greeting it, embracing it. The sound of it surging out of gutters.

I am grateful for the nor’easters I experienced when young, the way the clouds would gather and grow dark, grow purple and move across the Vineyard Sound, changing the color of the water rapidly, as white caps raced to the shore.Image lightning cropped seashore-scenery-2418664

Then the clouds would move towards our house, lightning zig-zagging, thunder roaring, electricity in the air popping and fizzling, the surrounding leaves from tree branches turning inside out.

Then the rain would pound our roof, which seemed barely to protect us, our home uninsulated, magnifying the sound. Nature stopping us in our tracks, taking over, silencing us with its power”.

I am grateful for the rain.

We can come to gratitude in other ways, as well. Ironically, living with chronic illness can lead us to appreciate the ways our bodies are working well. For example, one day after picking some berries, I noticed a small thorn had embedded itself in my finger. It began to become sore and inflamed. I started to wonder if it was infected and considered making an appointment to see a doctor. But then, after a few days, it began to heal, and the redness and soreness subsided. I felt grateful to my body that in this small way, it was working well and taking care of itself; something I would’ve easily taken for granted if I was able-bodied.

Small occurrences like the above take place in our bodies daily, without our recognition of them and stopping in wonder. By practicing gratitude, we begin to see all kinds of things in our life that we can give thanks to: The caring attitude of a pharmacist, the trees growing in our backyard, the shoes on our feet.

Feeling grateful allows us to feel complete and satisfied. We are no longer searching for something or someone to fulfill our ongoing needs, but feel the grace that comes from the acknowledgement of our appreciation. We feel restored and even empowered by the inward calm that is a by-product of this practice. Giving thanks is a way of blessing our own lives.

Gratitude and generosity go hand-in-hand. As we begin to experience abundance we attain from gratitude, it feels natural to give back. On our gratitude list is surely our support system. Can we do something special for them? Perhaps we can’t afford a gift, but can we craft them a poem, create a collage? Sharing our sincere words of thanks can allow them to feel acknowledged and appreciated, and may be the biggest gift of all. Another unusual way we have to give to people that help us out that we may not notice at first, is to allow others to give. Many is the time I’ve had to ask for help when feeling seizury or recovering from a seizure. It has always been difficult to do when expressing that to my caregivers. I’ve often been told that it made them feel good to give in this way and they ended up enjoying the quiet and reflective time that came from it.

Also, with all that we know in coping with our illness, can we share our insights and knowledge gained by experience to others who are in a similar place? A kind word here, a thoughtful suggestion there? We can share our stories with others who are new to chronic illness, which can lead them to feel understood and lessen their loneliness?

We can also, of course, listen to their stories. Simply bearing witness with an open heart can allow others to feel heard, which can lighten their load. I once spoke with a woman surviving breast cancer, who had been through tremendous hardship. I asked her how she was doing, and she told me in great detail what her experience had been with surgery, chemotherapy and other medications and the side effects she had to endure. Her story was difficult to listen to and yet, having practiced sitting with my own difficult and weighty emotions made it easier not to run from hers.

Another way to help is to call others we know who are struggling with difficult symptoms and check in with them when we are feeling a bit better. We know from experience how uplifting that can be for us during more acute times of our illness, so if we have a little energy one day, this is certainly something we can do to contribute to others’ well-being.

Giving back in these simple yet profound ways gives us the opportunity to see we have something to offer our community, which increases our self-esteem, gladdens our heart and adds to our sense of purpose in the world.

What are you grateful for?

 

Image jumping in celebration pxhere.com

 

 

 

A Word or Two on Surrendering; Story on Surrendering

There are times when dealing with our health concerns that surrendering comes into the picture and becomes a quality that would serve us well to cultivate. When we are waiting for our test results from the laboratory or wake up with a migraine on a day we planned to get a lot done, we learn to give up control and let go. We have learned from the past that pushing ourselves in this state only increases our pain and that worrying about the outcome of our test results only causes us more distress. Often, excruciating symptoms can bring us to our knees and give us no choice but to relinquish control and surrender.

The act of surrendering is a humbling one. We are reminded that something bigger than ourselves is holding the reins and that by recognizing this, we find a way to allow our life to unfold, instead of forcing our will onto it. Twelve-step programs have developed the slogan “Let go and let God” and turning it over to a higher power greater than oneself, when we end up getting too much in our own way to do us any good. For those uncomfortable with the word “God”, they can exchange it with the concept that we are not always completely in charge of our circumstances and may have to put into place a different way of handling our present challenges, than worry and agitation.

The act of surrendering doesn’t mean we roll over and give up and do nothing. It means we allow energy to move through us and not manipulate it, thereby allowing The Great Mystery to unfold and leaving room for spirit to come into our life. When we become open like this, our intuition can be tapped, new solutions can come to us or just the understanding that for now, maybe all we need to “do”, is rest or putter around in the garden that day or get some support from a friend.

Numerology Guidance Cards by Michelle Buchanan
Surrender

Surrendering control may be something we have to do over and over again, if we are particularly anxious; like waiting for those test results. Surrendering takes practice like any other spiritual discipline and we may need constant reminders. We may notice that the way we are going about finding an answer to resolve our health issue has become too obsessive, i.e., going from one practitioner to the next without taking time to reflect on why this might be happening in the first place. It may be better for us in this case, to slow down a little and recognize that underneath this behavior is fear, and we might be better off to explore that fear and see what that has to teach us, rather than go about our health care in a frantic, grasping way. When fear rises again and again, surrendering can become the anecdote that calms us down.

 

Story on Surrendering

When I was in my twenties, I lived communally on land, with a small group, during the 70’s. I loved living there at the time, but for various reasons, the community was breaking up and individuals were moving on. I was unhappy with this idea, but I had no choice but to move on, too. I realized I relied on the others to be there in case of a seizure, but who could I rely on now? On top of that, with the stress of the dissolvement of the group and the stimulation that came from living communally, I had had a few seizures and came to the conclusion that I couldn’t take care of myself. Appallingly, it seemed to me, my only option was to pack up all my things and go stay with my parents – the very people whose way of living I felt estranged from and who I felt lived the opposite to what we had been trying to create on land, where I had been living. Not only that, but I needed help packing and couldn’t fly on my own – my mother had to come and get me! For a young woman out in the world on her own, developing new ideologies with others that branched away from the norm (with a lot of judgement towards others, I might add), this was beyond humiliating!

Once at my parents’ house, it took months for me to fully recover. Not only did I have to put aside my youthful ideals, but I had to let go of the elemental independent way of living we all usually take for granted. Most of the time, I couldn’t prepare meals for myself; my mother did. I couldn’t drive, so I had to rely on my father to get anywhere. Some part of me knew I was fortunate; that I had loving parents who could take me in, but my false pride wouldn’t allow a full appreciation of this fact. I chafed against their ways that I perceived as outdated and steeped in sexism, but felt I had to keep my mouth closed, because I was reliant on them for my basic needs. At times, I resented this, making it easy to resent them.

Although I wasn’t very good at it, I was forced to surrender. I had to put aside my beliefs and my prized independence in order to get my needs taken care of. I felt ashamed and humiliated to be in this position, and because of this, couldn’t fully give in to the feeling of surrendering, which made everything that much harder.

More than twenty years later, things have changed a great deal. I am more apt to be honest with myself about my limitations and needs, although, there often seems a layer of resistance before I let go and accept my circumstances. I no longer carry around the arrogance I used to have in my twenties that made me feel I was somehow more evolved than others. Having had to, time and time again, ask for help over the years, has led me to replace humiliation with humility and a letting in of others in my life I may not have otherwise, which expands my spiritual path that much more. When we only let in those who have the same ideology and lifestyle as ours, we develop a narrow way of being and living. I believe I have a  more developed sense of gratitude in general, because of having to let others in, by way of caregiving for me. All this I’ve gotten from the gift and act of surrendering.

 

Citations:

Buchanan, M., Numerology Guidance Cards. https://www.michellebuchanan.co.nz/numerology-oracle-cards/

Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation. Letting go of our need for control frees us. https://www.hazelden.org/web/public/hff11022.page

 

 

 

 

Mariah Carey at Rite Aid

While standing in line at Rite Aid, I look over at the magazines at the counter. On the cover of People Magazine is a picture of Mariah Carey, with a caption revealing she has bipolar disorder. When I reach the counter, I take a copy and set it down with my other items to buy: a notebook and my favorite pens.

The cashier ringing me up glances down at the cover.

“Mariah Carey’s bipolar?”, she scowls.

“Seems like everybody’s bipolar these days. I think it’s just an excuse. They want attention, or they’re just weak-minded. Sometimes you just got to buck up”.

I look at her tight mouth and flashing eyes and wonder about her life. Does she just “buck up” and push through? Is that how she handles the difficulties of her life?

I must have a shocked look on my face, or maybe my mouth is tightening, because when she looks at me again, she says, modifying her tone, “or maybe she is bipolar”.

“Maybe more people are coming out about it, are being braver”, I suggest.

And with that exchange, I leave.

The conversation bothers me. It’s attitudes like hers that keep brain disorders and mental illness in the closet. All chronically ill people have to push harder to go through life. Mentally ill people have the added difficulty of having a stigma attached, making it hard to feel okay about having an illness that affects the mind.

Why is it such a stigma? The brain is part of the body, not separate from it. So why do we get so judgmental or frightened about mental illness and not as much or at all about other illnesses? Unless someone is violent, it seems no point in being afraid or protecting ourselves. Are we all just frightened of losing control, ourselves? Aren’t we all trying to keep it together on some level, at least some of the time?

Strictly speaking, bipolar disorder is a mood disorder, not a mental illness. For that matter, so is an anxiety disorder. If I’m honest, I feel a sense of relief that I am not labeled “mentally ill”, because I don’t want to be lumped with “those people”. I’m not a psychiatrist, but it seems to me that there is some sort of spectrum. You have people like me on one end, and a paranoid schizophrenic on the other. Am I a better, more respectable, likeable, deserving person because I’m more functional in the world? No.

Personally, I’m happy Mariah Carey is on the cover of People, telling her story. Kanye West gives no apologies for his bipolar disorder. I’m happy Howie Mandell is honest about his plethora of anxieties, even making us laugh about them. When well-known people are outspoken about their mood disorders and mental illness, I think it encourages others to do the same. Maybe by doing so, the stigma of mental illness can slowly slough off because of their willingness and courage; to be vocal about it and be themselves.

We have a long way to go. There needs to be a lot more education about all kinds of brain disorders, until shame is ditched and replaced with compassionate understanding. Everyone can come out of the closet and not fear condemnation. We all deserve to be respected, accepted and treated well by our doctors, friends, and community. We are all part of a greater whole and deserve to be recognized as such. Otherwise, there will remain a fracture in our humanity and we will all suffer from it. And I don’t want that. Do you?

“We’re one but we’re not the same. We need to carry each other”.  ~ Mary J. Blige

How Are You?

 

For many (say 4) nights in a row I have slept pretty good, for me.  I know if others experienced these nights, would probably have something else to say.  But I’m happy with how I feel.  Wow.  Happy.  That’s a miracle to me.  I almost feel like a “normie” – what I call an able-bodied person.  And yet.  There is also a nervousness in me like I’m looking over my shoulder wondering how long this stretch will last.  Another night?  Please?  The rest of my life?  Please?  I know the last plea is highly unlikely, but I like to hold out for a miracle.

Do you ever have good days?  What do they look like?  Do you get nervous about another shoe dropping like me?

So today I’ll have a “good” day I imagine.  I’ll be more active.  I won’t feel this pressure to act “normal” around others like I usually feel.

Which brings be to this topic: “how are you?”  I’ve come to hate that question.  It makes me feel squirmy.  And sometimes resentful.  Do people really want to know the answer.  Sometimes I bump into others at the local natural food store, people I don’t know really well, but well enough to stop my cart and say hi.  And as usual they ask, “How are you?”.  Sometimes, because I just don’t feel like getting into it, I’ll say “fine” – it’s easier that way.  Sometimes I’ll just shrug my shoulders and make a face which translates into “not so good”.  Sometimes I’ll be bold and say “shitty”.  Sometimes I’ll say, “Right now, I’m good”, which really means “I’m doing my best to stay present because I know when we do everything is pretty much ok that way.” 

But mostly, unless it’s a good friend, I won’t get into the details.  I don’t think most people really want to know the details. They don’t want to know I’ve been awake most of the night and that anxiety, dread and self-hate took over.

I have a good story about this kind of thing though.  Once I was in Safeway and saw a woman from afar, I knew (not well) who had cancer and was going through treatment.  Our eyes met and after that you can’t pretend you didn’t see each other.  So, I waved and smiled and proceeded to push my cart up to her and she shook her head vehemently and turned away.  I received her message loud and clear, that she did not want to interact whatsoever.  I didn’t take it at all personally.  I understood.  And I appreciated her honesty.  Perhaps next time someone I don’t know well asks me how I’m doing and it’s a difficult day for me, I can be just as honest and say something like, “Not well.  And I don’t want to talk about it.  And I don’t want to know how you’re doing because I’m too tired to listen to your story, whatever it is.  I can’t be polite.”  And then walk away. 

What do you think?