Outside of an assignment once or twice in school, I've never written many haikus. But recently, I decided to attempt this form of creative outlet. Here were the results.
"Training"
What am I doing here?
None of this pertains to me.
What a waste of time.
"Fall"
Fall leaves swimming 'round.
Swirling, wooshing, floating down.
Autumn ecstasy.
"Kitties"
Whiskers brush my cheek.
Cuddly, purring ball of fluff.
Warm, feline snuggles.
"Motherhood"
Pervasive envy.
Aching maternal longing.
Morose pit of pain.
I realize the last poem is rather dark and sad. But it felt healing and cathartic to get the feelings out.
Peace,
Kelley
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Death and Dying
I think this might be a rambling post. I need a place to sort through the jumbled mess that are my thoughts. It may be blunt. It may be raw. But I hope to benefit from time on here typing. So here it is.
My grandma is dying.
She has dramatically lost weight. Her skin hangs off of her. Physically, she is a fraction of the woman she once was. The past couple of weeks have been heart-wrenching. I have burst into tears more times than I can count. I have been deeply sad over her imminent death and maddeningly angry over logistical hoops we've faced as a family to get our preferred care for her.
An incalculable blessing is that my own hospice team has been able to step in and care for my grandma. Some of the aforementioned logistical nightmares made this seem impossible at first, but in the end, the people I work with every day are taking care of my grandma as if she was one their own loved ones. The work that I have given my life to at the moment has reached out and compassionately touched my own family at a time of great emotional vulnerability. We do this for other families. Now we're doing it for mine.
This afternoon, my grandmother's breathing changed. It had become even more shallow and it seemed that her dying was going to happen within a matter of hours. All my family gathered in her room: her two daughters, their spouses, my brother, my cousin, my husband and me. I called my boss in tears and gave her an update. She informed my grandma's nurse who came out to visit, check in, and give us her opinion (to take with a grain of salt). She thinks my grandma may die by tonight or tomorrow.
At this point, I think most, if not all, of my family will see this at a good thing. My grandma's Alzheimer's has been so advanced that she's not been able to really *live* in quite some time. But now, her life has been reduced to gathering breaths in each moment. She can't engage with us. She can't speak. She can't process that we're there. But she's peaceful and comfortable.
I learned tonight that on this day, twenty years ago, my grandma's mom died on 1/3/93. I think it would be significant and meaningful if she died on 1/3/13. I don't want her to die quicker because of this, but I still think it would be serendipitous if it happened.
Because of everything that's going on, I've been so tired and drained lately. I feel sleepy most of the day, but have trouble falling asleep, then have a restless night. I think sheer exhaustion will win out soon and force my body to rest. But I don't see that happening tonight because I fully expect to be called in the middle of the night learning that she's died. My mom and aunt are staying with her.
I have been very grateful to be involved and help where I can. Whether it's picking up food to bring out to the nursing facility, passing tissues to people who need it, hugging family members, or updating family and friends. A particularly poignant moment for me was when Dan and I went to Belks to help pick out the clothes my grandmother will be buried in. When I asked my mom if any thought had been given to that, she said "Grandma always said she wanted to be warm." We supposed she meant "dressed warmly" and my mom had thought of getting a warm nightgown and robe. I offered to search the stores for an outfit. My mom gratefully took me up on the offer. Due to the Christmas shopping season, finding a set that actually matched was more difficult than anticipated, but in the end Dan, my mom, my aunt, and I were able to find a very lovely pajama and robe combination that we all thought was perfect. The outfit was completed with a matching set of silky panties and warm fuzzy socks.
I know it may seem like too much information to mention the silky panties, but let me elaborate as to why I did. Short explanation: "Gilmore Girls." Longer explanation: One of the main characters, Lorelei, has taken over planning her grandmother's elaborate funeral service and, just when she thinks she's got it all planned out, she realizes she's forgotten to buy underwear for her grandmother. She rushes out to a store and has a wild meltdown with a saleslady. That scene was in my mind when we were shopping and, before I had said anything, Dan commented, "This reminds me of 'Gilmore Girls.'"
It's also been a strange thing to bring in the new year when my grandmother will likely die soon. I typically associate new years with hopefulness, promise, and untapped potential. The end of a year seems a more natural time for death to me, though I am fully aware that death has no set schedule. Still, it's been a sad and pensive new year so far.
Also mixed in with all my other emotions is a sense of sadness because my dear cousin is not here to say goodbye. She moved to Florida within the last several months and hasn't been able to be present when our family has gathered together in the midst of our common loss.
Another thought I've been having is about endings and "lasts." When a new child is born, their world is tumbling over with "firsts." First smile, first laugh, first bath, first crawl, etc. But as I've sat with my grandmother, I've been realizing that I am a witness to her "lasts." Perhaps the last bath she'll be lovingly given by one of our hospice aides. Maybe her last smile. Her last time opening her eyes. The last time she says anything. Maybe even her last breath. There's such a finality to it all.
I keep imagining her at different stages in her life. This has been spurred on even more because of the stories being told by my family members. I imagine her as a school child in class, with her friends, and playing. I think of her as a young wife married to my grandfather. I picture them as new parents, then as parents to girls of different ages. I've been hearing stories about her mothering style, things she said and did. I'm learning about personality traits I didn't get to know and experience for myself. I imagine her as a quietly strong women of great sweetness and hospitality; as a faithful mother, sister, daughter, wife, cousin, and friend. She has loved and laughed. She has made a family. She is my last grandparent in my adopted family. With her death, I feel like my parents are much more exposed. I told Dan today, "If I'm this sad about my grandma, how am I ever going to get through my parents' deaths one day?"
But I think I know the "how." I will get through because I have people that love me. People who are there for me and show me kindness and compassion. I will get through because I have loved my parents and been through so much with them. Just like I will survive my grandmother dying. And hopefully my parents and I will have many more years of memories to make yet.
Within the last year, when my grandmother could still talk to us (though she had already forgotten the grandchildren generation) my church choir went to sing at my grandmother's assisted living facility. At one point, my grandma was watching me sing and she leaned over and said something to my mom, which promptly made her cry. My intuition was correct. My grandmother had remarked, "I want that girl to sing at my funeral." She no longer remembered me, but my singing stood out to her in a way that made her want me to sing for her in the service honoring her life. And I do hope to be able to, though I'm worried I won't be able to make it through. But it will be okay if I have to submit to tears before being able to finish singing. I'm not sure yet what I might sing, but I think it will be one of the old hymns my grandmother loved.
Though she can't hear me when I've said these next things to her, I feel like ending this by typing her a message.
Dear Grandma,
I love you very much. We all do. You have always loved me just the same as the other grandchildren, even though I came into the family differently. Thank you for never making me feel less important than them. I will always remember your fairness, your sweet Henderson accent, your smile and your laugh; smelling your amazing vegetable beef soup when we'd arrive for a visit; getting to go into the formal sitting room when someone rang your front doorbell! Playing in your basement and backyard; going to family reunions with you, getting rides to dance from you; knowing that you were a wonderful mother because of the two beautiful, loving and compassionate daughters you've raised. Thank you for being such a foundational person in our family. We will miss you so much. I hope you find granddaddy and great mama and that you can all be together again.
Love always,
Kelley
My grandma is dying.
She has dramatically lost weight. Her skin hangs off of her. Physically, she is a fraction of the woman she once was. The past couple of weeks have been heart-wrenching. I have burst into tears more times than I can count. I have been deeply sad over her imminent death and maddeningly angry over logistical hoops we've faced as a family to get our preferred care for her.
An incalculable blessing is that my own hospice team has been able to step in and care for my grandma. Some of the aforementioned logistical nightmares made this seem impossible at first, but in the end, the people I work with every day are taking care of my grandma as if she was one their own loved ones. The work that I have given my life to at the moment has reached out and compassionately touched my own family at a time of great emotional vulnerability. We do this for other families. Now we're doing it for mine.
This afternoon, my grandmother's breathing changed. It had become even more shallow and it seemed that her dying was going to happen within a matter of hours. All my family gathered in her room: her two daughters, their spouses, my brother, my cousin, my husband and me. I called my boss in tears and gave her an update. She informed my grandma's nurse who came out to visit, check in, and give us her opinion (to take with a grain of salt). She thinks my grandma may die by tonight or tomorrow.
At this point, I think most, if not all, of my family will see this at a good thing. My grandma's Alzheimer's has been so advanced that she's not been able to really *live* in quite some time. But now, her life has been reduced to gathering breaths in each moment. She can't engage with us. She can't speak. She can't process that we're there. But she's peaceful and comfortable.
I learned tonight that on this day, twenty years ago, my grandma's mom died on 1/3/93. I think it would be significant and meaningful if she died on 1/3/13. I don't want her to die quicker because of this, but I still think it would be serendipitous if it happened.
Because of everything that's going on, I've been so tired and drained lately. I feel sleepy most of the day, but have trouble falling asleep, then have a restless night. I think sheer exhaustion will win out soon and force my body to rest. But I don't see that happening tonight because I fully expect to be called in the middle of the night learning that she's died. My mom and aunt are staying with her.
I have been very grateful to be involved and help where I can. Whether it's picking up food to bring out to the nursing facility, passing tissues to people who need it, hugging family members, or updating family and friends. A particularly poignant moment for me was when Dan and I went to Belks to help pick out the clothes my grandmother will be buried in. When I asked my mom if any thought had been given to that, she said "Grandma always said she wanted to be warm." We supposed she meant "dressed warmly" and my mom had thought of getting a warm nightgown and robe. I offered to search the stores for an outfit. My mom gratefully took me up on the offer. Due to the Christmas shopping season, finding a set that actually matched was more difficult than anticipated, but in the end Dan, my mom, my aunt, and I were able to find a very lovely pajama and robe combination that we all thought was perfect. The outfit was completed with a matching set of silky panties and warm fuzzy socks.
I know it may seem like too much information to mention the silky panties, but let me elaborate as to why I did. Short explanation: "Gilmore Girls." Longer explanation: One of the main characters, Lorelei, has taken over planning her grandmother's elaborate funeral service and, just when she thinks she's got it all planned out, she realizes she's forgotten to buy underwear for her grandmother. She rushes out to a store and has a wild meltdown with a saleslady. That scene was in my mind when we were shopping and, before I had said anything, Dan commented, "This reminds me of 'Gilmore Girls.'"
It's also been a strange thing to bring in the new year when my grandmother will likely die soon. I typically associate new years with hopefulness, promise, and untapped potential. The end of a year seems a more natural time for death to me, though I am fully aware that death has no set schedule. Still, it's been a sad and pensive new year so far.
Also mixed in with all my other emotions is a sense of sadness because my dear cousin is not here to say goodbye. She moved to Florida within the last several months and hasn't been able to be present when our family has gathered together in the midst of our common loss.
Another thought I've been having is about endings and "lasts." When a new child is born, their world is tumbling over with "firsts." First smile, first laugh, first bath, first crawl, etc. But as I've sat with my grandmother, I've been realizing that I am a witness to her "lasts." Perhaps the last bath she'll be lovingly given by one of our hospice aides. Maybe her last smile. Her last time opening her eyes. The last time she says anything. Maybe even her last breath. There's such a finality to it all.
I keep imagining her at different stages in her life. This has been spurred on even more because of the stories being told by my family members. I imagine her as a school child in class, with her friends, and playing. I think of her as a young wife married to my grandfather. I picture them as new parents, then as parents to girls of different ages. I've been hearing stories about her mothering style, things she said and did. I'm learning about personality traits I didn't get to know and experience for myself. I imagine her as a quietly strong women of great sweetness and hospitality; as a faithful mother, sister, daughter, wife, cousin, and friend. She has loved and laughed. She has made a family. She is my last grandparent in my adopted family. With her death, I feel like my parents are much more exposed. I told Dan today, "If I'm this sad about my grandma, how am I ever going to get through my parents' deaths one day?"
But I think I know the "how." I will get through because I have people that love me. People who are there for me and show me kindness and compassion. I will get through because I have loved my parents and been through so much with them. Just like I will survive my grandmother dying. And hopefully my parents and I will have many more years of memories to make yet.
Within the last year, when my grandmother could still talk to us (though she had already forgotten the grandchildren generation) my church choir went to sing at my grandmother's assisted living facility. At one point, my grandma was watching me sing and she leaned over and said something to my mom, which promptly made her cry. My intuition was correct. My grandmother had remarked, "I want that girl to sing at my funeral." She no longer remembered me, but my singing stood out to her in a way that made her want me to sing for her in the service honoring her life. And I do hope to be able to, though I'm worried I won't be able to make it through. But it will be okay if I have to submit to tears before being able to finish singing. I'm not sure yet what I might sing, but I think it will be one of the old hymns my grandmother loved.
Though she can't hear me when I've said these next things to her, I feel like ending this by typing her a message.
Dear Grandma,
I love you very much. We all do. You have always loved me just the same as the other grandchildren, even though I came into the family differently. Thank you for never making me feel less important than them. I will always remember your fairness, your sweet Henderson accent, your smile and your laugh; smelling your amazing vegetable beef soup when we'd arrive for a visit; getting to go into the formal sitting room when someone rang your front doorbell! Playing in your basement and backyard; going to family reunions with you, getting rides to dance from you; knowing that you were a wonderful mother because of the two beautiful, loving and compassionate daughters you've raised. Thank you for being such a foundational person in our family. We will miss you so much. I hope you find granddaddy and great mama and that you can all be together again.
Love always,
Kelley
Friday, September 21, 2012
Further Connection and a Homily in Progress
So...
I wrote about my friend who proposed an intentional covenant of connection via weekly emails and monthly snail mail. So far, it's absolutely wonderful. To know that my emails will be read with care and responded to is so healing. Many times, I've tried to email, text, or call people in my world but haven't heard back from them. There's only so long that that kind of one-sided connection can last before it fizzles.
My friend said my enthusiastic response to her proposal gave her the confidence to make communication offers with other people. She has three more people who she'll be trying to stay in touch with in similar ways. With her encouragement, I decided to be brave and invite two of my other friends into the circle of connection.
So here's what I'll be doing!
With Tracy (the originator of this fantastic idea): I'll be receiving emails from her on Tuesdays and responding to them on Wednesdays. In addition, I'll be sending her a piece of real mail at least once a month.
With Kody: I'll be emailing him on Sundays. He's asked for two days of response time, so I'll be hearing back from him by Tuesdays. He also agreed to snail mail at least once a month and counter-proposed occasional packages as well!
With Kt: She liked the idea too, but said she writes enough emails in her life and would like to become...wait for it...actual pen pals, writing real mail to each other, trying for once a week.
So there you have it! The ways in which I hope to continue to be connected to my incredible friends. Now, I'd like to be intentional about spending time with Dan locally. Perhaps a guaranteed once a week walk? Away from anything with a screen to drag our attention away from each other.
Exciting.
On another note, I'm currently at a coffee shop getting my writing juices flowing with this blog because Sunday is my annual hospice memorial service. This is my once a year event where I invite everyone who has lost a loved one on our care for the past year to a memorial service that I have planned and facilitate. I think the event will be welcoming and hopefully healing for people. I have a local high school ensemble chorus who will be coming to share music with us. Dan's running the sound. My mom and Dan's mom are catering for the 2nd year in a row. The order of service has been printed beautifully thanks to one of my co-workers. I've received RSVPs to make me feel calmer about all the effort going into this event. The weather is supposed to be beautiful, which is excellent considering last year it POURED the day of.
Only thing left?
My homily.
It's also what was last minute for me last year. Damn procrastinating personality! It's just very difficult to write a homily that encompasses so many different people, both our deceased patients and their families. When I'm asked to do a service for a particular person, it's nice because I can focus on THEM. I can get personal stories, ask families what they want to have included, make the songs and words intentionally reflect particular people. But for dozens of different people and the staff that take care of them...much more difficult.
I want to focus on universal themes of loss and the trauma of death. Because frankly, death disrupts our lives. We're going along, living our day-to-day, then boom! Someone we love dies. And the truth of it is, no matter how many people tell you "It's going to be ok." there is, at least for a moment, a time where it doesn't feel that way. We live in a very death-denying society. With the transition of deaths to hospitals and nursing homes, (which are viable options, don't get me wrong) the feeling of someone dying has turned from being personal and family-oriented to stranger and machine-oriented. Hospice is trying to open up the possibility of people having the choice to die in their homes, surrounded by family, and photos, and memories, and love. In a personal way.
When someone dies in our culture, who is not a celebrity, I find that there is a stressful push to "be ok now!" We try to get back to "normal" as quickly as possible. At my HOSPICE job, it's written into the policy that employees receive "up to three days" of bereavement time at the death of a close loved one. And "close" only counts for parents, grandparents, and siblings. Really? Three days? Yeah, right. I think this is especially bogus when the person who we've lost because the sun of our universe...illness causing them to be the center of our world perhaps under very difficult circumstance and for an extended period of time.
While I want to acknowledge and make a sacred space for the losses, and the aching holes left behind, I also want to spend a good bit of time talking about love. There's a Forrest Church quote that I adore. It will be read by the hospice social worker before I homilize. I want this quote read at my own Memorial Service hopefully MANY years from now.
By the Reverend Forrest Church who was, before his passing, a Unitarian Universalist Minister:
"Every time we commit ourselves, every time we share ourselves with another...we risk so very much. We risk disappointment...we risk the enormous pain of loss. If we try to protect ourselves from suffering, we shall manage only to subdue the very thing that makes our lives worth living. Though we can, by a refusal to love, protect ourselves from the risk of losing what or whom we love, the irony is, by refusing to love we will have nothing left that is really worth protecting."
In other words, the only way we can avoid the pain of grief is also by avoiding the joy of love.
And I, for one, do not believe that my life would be worth a lick of beans, as they say here in the south, if I didn't have people to love and who loved me. My ideas about god change and evolve over the years, but one thing I have been consistent on believing is that there is evidence of divine love present in the love of my family and my friends. They are the embodiment of sacred connection, hope, and love. Without them, I feel depressed and disconnected. I feel like there is nothing worthwhile. But with them I feel full and whole. I soar and can expand to a fuller potential. I can make a difference in the world because of their love.
And when I lose someone I love, then their memory, and even my guilt and regrets, spark within me a desire to live better. To love more. To tell the people I care about how grateful I am for them. Each life, and even each death, alters my life perspective. They turn the course of my life path, sometimes a little and sometimes a lot.
Each of the people coming to the service on Sunday has been affected by death in the past year. More than anything I want their losses to be acknowledged and for them to feel cared for and safe. And I want for them to eat delicious food, because I fully believe there is something ancient and wonderful about sharing a meal with people.
Well this blog certainly has gotten my writing juices flowing just like I'd hoped! I've even been going back and forth from my homily writing while typing it. Now, I plan to focus more exclusively on my homily, praying that something loving and comforting will result.
If you have any thoughts please leave me a comment. Otherwise, until next time!
Blessings,
Kelley
I wrote about my friend who proposed an intentional covenant of connection via weekly emails and monthly snail mail. So far, it's absolutely wonderful. To know that my emails will be read with care and responded to is so healing. Many times, I've tried to email, text, or call people in my world but haven't heard back from them. There's only so long that that kind of one-sided connection can last before it fizzles.
My friend said my enthusiastic response to her proposal gave her the confidence to make communication offers with other people. She has three more people who she'll be trying to stay in touch with in similar ways. With her encouragement, I decided to be brave and invite two of my other friends into the circle of connection.
So here's what I'll be doing!
With Tracy (the originator of this fantastic idea): I'll be receiving emails from her on Tuesdays and responding to them on Wednesdays. In addition, I'll be sending her a piece of real mail at least once a month.
With Kody: I'll be emailing him on Sundays. He's asked for two days of response time, so I'll be hearing back from him by Tuesdays. He also agreed to snail mail at least once a month and counter-proposed occasional packages as well!
With Kt: She liked the idea too, but said she writes enough emails in her life and would like to become...wait for it...actual pen pals, writing real mail to each other, trying for once a week.
So there you have it! The ways in which I hope to continue to be connected to my incredible friends. Now, I'd like to be intentional about spending time with Dan locally. Perhaps a guaranteed once a week walk? Away from anything with a screen to drag our attention away from each other.
Exciting.
On another note, I'm currently at a coffee shop getting my writing juices flowing with this blog because Sunday is my annual hospice memorial service. This is my once a year event where I invite everyone who has lost a loved one on our care for the past year to a memorial service that I have planned and facilitate. I think the event will be welcoming and hopefully healing for people. I have a local high school ensemble chorus who will be coming to share music with us. Dan's running the sound. My mom and Dan's mom are catering for the 2nd year in a row. The order of service has been printed beautifully thanks to one of my co-workers. I've received RSVPs to make me feel calmer about all the effort going into this event. The weather is supposed to be beautiful, which is excellent considering last year it POURED the day of.
Only thing left?
My homily.
It's also what was last minute for me last year. Damn procrastinating personality! It's just very difficult to write a homily that encompasses so many different people, both our deceased patients and their families. When I'm asked to do a service for a particular person, it's nice because I can focus on THEM. I can get personal stories, ask families what they want to have included, make the songs and words intentionally reflect particular people. But for dozens of different people and the staff that take care of them...much more difficult.
I want to focus on universal themes of loss and the trauma of death. Because frankly, death disrupts our lives. We're going along, living our day-to-day, then boom! Someone we love dies. And the truth of it is, no matter how many people tell you "It's going to be ok." there is, at least for a moment, a time where it doesn't feel that way. We live in a very death-denying society. With the transition of deaths to hospitals and nursing homes, (which are viable options, don't get me wrong) the feeling of someone dying has turned from being personal and family-oriented to stranger and machine-oriented. Hospice is trying to open up the possibility of people having the choice to die in their homes, surrounded by family, and photos, and memories, and love. In a personal way.
When someone dies in our culture, who is not a celebrity, I find that there is a stressful push to "be ok now!" We try to get back to "normal" as quickly as possible. At my HOSPICE job, it's written into the policy that employees receive "up to three days" of bereavement time at the death of a close loved one. And "close" only counts for parents, grandparents, and siblings. Really? Three days? Yeah, right. I think this is especially bogus when the person who we've lost because the sun of our universe...illness causing them to be the center of our world perhaps under very difficult circumstance and for an extended period of time.
While I want to acknowledge and make a sacred space for the losses, and the aching holes left behind, I also want to spend a good bit of time talking about love. There's a Forrest Church quote that I adore. It will be read by the hospice social worker before I homilize. I want this quote read at my own Memorial Service hopefully MANY years from now.
By the Reverend Forrest Church who was, before his passing, a Unitarian Universalist Minister:
"Every time we commit ourselves, every time we share ourselves with another...we risk so very much. We risk disappointment...we risk the enormous pain of loss. If we try to protect ourselves from suffering, we shall manage only to subdue the very thing that makes our lives worth living. Though we can, by a refusal to love, protect ourselves from the risk of losing what or whom we love, the irony is, by refusing to love we will have nothing left that is really worth protecting."
In other words, the only way we can avoid the pain of grief is also by avoiding the joy of love.
And I, for one, do not believe that my life would be worth a lick of beans, as they say here in the south, if I didn't have people to love and who loved me. My ideas about god change and evolve over the years, but one thing I have been consistent on believing is that there is evidence of divine love present in the love of my family and my friends. They are the embodiment of sacred connection, hope, and love. Without them, I feel depressed and disconnected. I feel like there is nothing worthwhile. But with them I feel full and whole. I soar and can expand to a fuller potential. I can make a difference in the world because of their love.
And when I lose someone I love, then their memory, and even my guilt and regrets, spark within me a desire to live better. To love more. To tell the people I care about how grateful I am for them. Each life, and even each death, alters my life perspective. They turn the course of my life path, sometimes a little and sometimes a lot.
Each of the people coming to the service on Sunday has been affected by death in the past year. More than anything I want their losses to be acknowledged and for them to feel cared for and safe. And I want for them to eat delicious food, because I fully believe there is something ancient and wonderful about sharing a meal with people.
Well this blog certainly has gotten my writing juices flowing just like I'd hoped! I've even been going back and forth from my homily writing while typing it. Now, I plan to focus more exclusively on my homily, praying that something loving and comforting will result.
If you have any thoughts please leave me a comment. Otherwise, until next time!
Blessings,
Kelley
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Reconnection
I have a dear friend of mine who has made a beautiful proposal for us. She wants to be digital pen pals. The proposal came with specifics. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing as I'm going to ask for permission after the fact. She wrote, "I would like to make a commitment/covenant with you to email each other
once per week. I could email you on Tuesdays and you could email me on
Thursdays (or whatever days we decide on). It wouldn't have to take up
too much time, but we could just check in with each other, stay up on
life events, be encouraging to one another through the tough times."
I immediately loved the idea. After some discussion, we have also agreed to send a letter or postcard to each at least once a month! I'm very excited. What first struck me about it was the honor of being asked to take part in this endeavor with a very dear friend. I also was extremely grateful for the mutuality it implied. There have been many times in email or handwritten letter writings that I've felt like I'm putting forth all the effort. And while the writing is beneficial for me, it is so much more life-giving to have someone on the receiving end who is also actively committed to the connection.
It's also extremely lovely to feel loved. I have some very dear friends in my life. And at times when I feel like I can't land my feet on anything solid, it's incredible to have the sense of grounding that my close friends give me.
I may have written about this before, but there is a Celtic phrase that deeply moves me. It's the idea of "anam cara" which translates to "soul friend." John O'Donahue has written a book about this concept. In it he writes, "The anam cara was a person to whom you could reveal the hidden intimacies of your life. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an anam cara, your friendship cut across all convention and category. You were joined in an ancient and eternal way with the friend of your soul."
I truly and deeply believe that I have more than one anam cara in my life. Which is interesting because although I feel like I have a warm personality, I don't necessarily open up myself deeply to people. There have been many occasions when I've learned that someone else feels closer to me than I feel to them. The lack of mutuality in these situations seems to come from my unwillingness, or even fear, of being fully myself with another person. But despite my own reluctance, I have somehow been blessed with deep closeness from several people. People who know me, love me, have supported me through years of friendship and who, I genuinely hope, I have made feel the same sense of love and acceptance. With them, I belong.
So here's to a covenant with my friend! A covenant to intentionally stay close and connected to one another despite our separation of many miles. And here's to my anam caras. Spread out all over the country, but so near and dear to my heart.
Blessings,
Kelley
I immediately loved the idea. After some discussion, we have also agreed to send a letter or postcard to each at least once a month! I'm very excited. What first struck me about it was the honor of being asked to take part in this endeavor with a very dear friend. I also was extremely grateful for the mutuality it implied. There have been many times in email or handwritten letter writings that I've felt like I'm putting forth all the effort. And while the writing is beneficial for me, it is so much more life-giving to have someone on the receiving end who is also actively committed to the connection.
It's also extremely lovely to feel loved. I have some very dear friends in my life. And at times when I feel like I can't land my feet on anything solid, it's incredible to have the sense of grounding that my close friends give me.
I may have written about this before, but there is a Celtic phrase that deeply moves me. It's the idea of "anam cara" which translates to "soul friend." John O'Donahue has written a book about this concept. In it he writes, "The anam cara was a person to whom you could reveal the hidden intimacies of your life. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an anam cara, your friendship cut across all convention and category. You were joined in an ancient and eternal way with the friend of your soul."
I truly and deeply believe that I have more than one anam cara in my life. Which is interesting because although I feel like I have a warm personality, I don't necessarily open up myself deeply to people. There have been many occasions when I've learned that someone else feels closer to me than I feel to them. The lack of mutuality in these situations seems to come from my unwillingness, or even fear, of being fully myself with another person. But despite my own reluctance, I have somehow been blessed with deep closeness from several people. People who know me, love me, have supported me through years of friendship and who, I genuinely hope, I have made feel the same sense of love and acceptance. With them, I belong.
So here's to a covenant with my friend! A covenant to intentionally stay close and connected to one another despite our separation of many miles. And here's to my anam caras. Spread out all over the country, but so near and dear to my heart.
Blessings,
Kelley
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Feeling Unlike Myself
I'm a bit stumped for the moment on The Right to Write. I never got past one of the assignments and it's been holding me up. So I think I'll move forward soon, allowing myself the grace to skip over this roadblock.
I also have just not felt like myself lately. I think I may have an inner ear infection. I go to the doctor this afternoon to find out for sure. I am running on a constant, low-level dizziness. Pain and pressure. Clumsiness. Dis-ease. I've also been very tired and waking up feeling unrested. I sincerely hope an inner ear infection is as bad as it might be. I would very much like to be feeling better soon. Dan is off this weekend, which is a rarity, and I certainly don't want to sleep the entire time.
I don't really have a purpose in this blog post, for which I apologize to anyone who might be here reading it. I just feel...odd. Separate. Unwell. I'm having a very hard time concentrating, and I'm trying to focus well enough to write elsewhere for work. I hoped that by writing here, by dislodging some of the confusion, I could reign in my errant thoughts and bring them into some sense of order.
No such luck.
However, I did find it fun to write and type when nothing was dependent on it more than getting out what was in my head.
Here goes my second attempt at writing for work. Thanks for visiting. Hopefully your next stop by will come with a more fun/inspiring/insightful read.
Blessings,
Kelley
I also have just not felt like myself lately. I think I may have an inner ear infection. I go to the doctor this afternoon to find out for sure. I am running on a constant, low-level dizziness. Pain and pressure. Clumsiness. Dis-ease. I've also been very tired and waking up feeling unrested. I sincerely hope an inner ear infection is as bad as it might be. I would very much like to be feeling better soon. Dan is off this weekend, which is a rarity, and I certainly don't want to sleep the entire time.
I don't really have a purpose in this blog post, for which I apologize to anyone who might be here reading it. I just feel...odd. Separate. Unwell. I'm having a very hard time concentrating, and I'm trying to focus well enough to write elsewhere for work. I hoped that by writing here, by dislodging some of the confusion, I could reign in my errant thoughts and bring them into some sense of order.
No such luck.
However, I did find it fun to write and type when nothing was dependent on it more than getting out what was in my head.
Here goes my second attempt at writing for work. Thanks for visiting. Hopefully your next stop by will come with a more fun/inspiring/insightful read.
Blessings,
Kelley
Monday, July 30, 2012
Serendipitous Surprises
When I started my most recent venture in writing, I explained that I didn't know where it was going to lead me. I didn't need or want to know. I just wanted prance playfully along the path as it became visible, one leap and skip at a time. Well, the path took a surprising turn about which I wanted to share.
Last week, I received an email from one of the ladies in my company who works in Danville, VA. She and I are friends on facebook and she said she'd read my post "Being Someone's 'Angel.'" She asked if she could put it in her Hospice Volunteer Newsletter. Surprised, but pleased I assured her that would be fine and that I was honored she valued it enough to want to share it with others. From this conversation, I decided to show it to my own office's Volunteer Coordinator (henceforth "VC") Teresa. I know she is always looking for pieces to put in her newsletter and if this other VC found my blog interesting, I thought it might be worth showing to Teresa.
She also liked the words and immediately said that she too would like to use it in her newsletter. I was grateful for the compliment and the alacrity of her positive response. I also found myself feeling abnormally surprised and taken aback by her encouragement thinking to myself, "Really? You liked it that much?" I'm not sure why I responded so critically to my own writing. I suppose I've just never shared it beyond the internet world; a world and space that can feel distant despite its public nature.
I then discovered that Teresa shared it with another VC who then asked to know the link to my blog because she now wants to follow it. (Hi Donna!) Then! I find out today that not only did Teresa share it with the VC, but she also forwarded it along to our high up boss who forwarded it along to the woman who collects material for the company-wide newsletter. My boss also wondered about sending it out to the marketing agency that works with our company to potentially bring attention to our hospice in the larger community. Surprise after surprise!
All because of words I wrote. All because of words I wrote.
I feel like this all spiraled so quickly! Just last Monday, my blog was just a place where a few of my friends read about whatever I was currently pondering. I never fancied that a large number of people took interest in it. I'm an external processor and this was just another place that I could sort through my emotions and disorderly brain. And I do feel emotionally cluttered with all this. And since lists go a long way to helping me sort, here's a list of my current emotions: stunned, empowered, grateful, nervous, humbled, overwhelmed, shy, proud, thoughtful, encouraged, and confused.
Confused seems to be chief among my feelings. Confused because I don't quite understand why anything I would write would be valuable to others. How self-deprecating is that?! Especially in light of all that I've been reading from Julia Cameron about all people having a voice and all people being writers. That's all well and good in the privacy of my own journal and the semi-privacy of my blog, but I didn't realize how deeply embedded this feeling of unworthiness as a writer truly is for me. I suppose I have more work to do.
My writing feels valuable for me. It's a way to both experience the world and respond to it. I've always dreamed of becoming a published writer. And by that I mean publishing children's books or maybe even a book about Hospice Chaplaincy. But something like this never occurred to me! After I told my husband all of the above, he said, "You're a published writer." If that's the case, then one more excuse for not being able to call myself a writer has been wiped away from my list of obstacles.
How exciting! And confusing.
Perhaps someday, my other publishing dreams will become a reality. And maybe they will add to our financial livelihood. I think perhaps that's what I meant by being published. Being paid to write. Blech. I don't like defining a beautiful creative process by money. I'll continue to work on disassembling that line of thinking as well.
In the meantime, I'm grateful to report that my words are going to be reaching out to a larger community than I could have imagined. Julia Cameron, in The Artist's Way writes about serendipity, or moments where the Universe responds to our desires and creative yearnings. I think this certainly qualifies as a moment where serendipity has appeared, smiling and waving gleefully! And for now, I'll bashfully wave back feeling grateful for this serendipitous surprise. Thanks to everyone who has always been so supportive. I'm supremely grateful.
-Kelley
P.S. If you're interested in re-reading the blog that started all this, here's a link to "Being Someone's 'Angel'"
Last week, I received an email from one of the ladies in my company who works in Danville, VA. She and I are friends on facebook and she said she'd read my post "Being Someone's 'Angel.'" She asked if she could put it in her Hospice Volunteer Newsletter. Surprised, but pleased I assured her that would be fine and that I was honored she valued it enough to want to share it with others. From this conversation, I decided to show it to my own office's Volunteer Coordinator (henceforth "VC") Teresa. I know she is always looking for pieces to put in her newsletter and if this other VC found my blog interesting, I thought it might be worth showing to Teresa.
She also liked the words and immediately said that she too would like to use it in her newsletter. I was grateful for the compliment and the alacrity of her positive response. I also found myself feeling abnormally surprised and taken aback by her encouragement thinking to myself, "Really? You liked it that much?" I'm not sure why I responded so critically to my own writing. I suppose I've just never shared it beyond the internet world; a world and space that can feel distant despite its public nature.
I then discovered that Teresa shared it with another VC who then asked to know the link to my blog because she now wants to follow it. (Hi Donna!) Then! I find out today that not only did Teresa share it with the VC, but she also forwarded it along to our high up boss who forwarded it along to the woman who collects material for the company-wide newsletter. My boss also wondered about sending it out to the marketing agency that works with our company to potentially bring attention to our hospice in the larger community. Surprise after surprise!
All because of words I wrote. All because of words I wrote.
I feel like this all spiraled so quickly! Just last Monday, my blog was just a place where a few of my friends read about whatever I was currently pondering. I never fancied that a large number of people took interest in it. I'm an external processor and this was just another place that I could sort through my emotions and disorderly brain. And I do feel emotionally cluttered with all this. And since lists go a long way to helping me sort, here's a list of my current emotions: stunned, empowered, grateful, nervous, humbled, overwhelmed, shy, proud, thoughtful, encouraged, and confused.
Confused seems to be chief among my feelings. Confused because I don't quite understand why anything I would write would be valuable to others. How self-deprecating is that?! Especially in light of all that I've been reading from Julia Cameron about all people having a voice and all people being writers. That's all well and good in the privacy of my own journal and the semi-privacy of my blog, but I didn't realize how deeply embedded this feeling of unworthiness as a writer truly is for me. I suppose I have more work to do.
My writing feels valuable for me. It's a way to both experience the world and respond to it. I've always dreamed of becoming a published writer. And by that I mean publishing children's books or maybe even a book about Hospice Chaplaincy. But something like this never occurred to me! After I told my husband all of the above, he said, "You're a published writer." If that's the case, then one more excuse for not being able to call myself a writer has been wiped away from my list of obstacles.
How exciting! And confusing.
Perhaps someday, my other publishing dreams will become a reality. And maybe they will add to our financial livelihood. I think perhaps that's what I meant by being published. Being paid to write. Blech. I don't like defining a beautiful creative process by money. I'll continue to work on disassembling that line of thinking as well.
In the meantime, I'm grateful to report that my words are going to be reaching out to a larger community than I could have imagined. Julia Cameron, in The Artist's Way writes about serendipity, or moments where the Universe responds to our desires and creative yearnings. I think this certainly qualifies as a moment where serendipity has appeared, smiling and waving gleefully! And for now, I'll bashfully wave back feeling grateful for this serendipitous surprise. Thanks to everyone who has always been so supportive. I'm supremely grateful.
-Kelley
P.S. If you're interested in re-reading the blog that started all this, here's a link to "Being Someone's 'Angel'"
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Family, Southport and the Postcard Assigment
My family is complicated. Perhaps it's like the ever-evolving American family, but I still consider it unusual. Here's a (very!) quick overview, just to give context to who I spent part of my day with:
My biological mom (hereafter, "bio mom") was a teenager in no way prepared to become a mother. During the first several months of my life, I didn't have a steady home. I was taken to many different places across a couple of different states. Eventually, my bio mom stepped out of the picture. Insert fabulous, dependable, and consistently loving parents! Who were they? My bio mom's dad and his second wife. They have been my wonderful parents ever since. My bio mom had an older brother who I called Uncle Mike growing up despite the fact that we call the same guy "Dad." This weekend, Mike and his wife came into town and I spent the day with them and my parents. Now you should be up to speed on who I spent my day with and how we're all connected!
Southport is a small town south of Wilmington that you can either drive to or take a ferry to. We decided on the ferry route, which was a fun little adventure for the weekend. Here are some photos from when we were waiting for the ferry to arrive.
My biological mom (hereafter, "bio mom") was a teenager in no way prepared to become a mother. During the first several months of my life, I didn't have a steady home. I was taken to many different places across a couple of different states. Eventually, my bio mom stepped out of the picture. Insert fabulous, dependable, and consistently loving parents! Who were they? My bio mom's dad and his second wife. They have been my wonderful parents ever since. My bio mom had an older brother who I called Uncle Mike growing up despite the fact that we call the same guy "Dad." This weekend, Mike and his wife came into town and I spent the day with them and my parents. Now you should be up to speed on who I spent my day with and how we're all connected!
Southport is a small town south of Wilmington that you can either drive to or take a ferry to. We decided on the ferry route, which was a fun little adventure for the weekend. Here are some photos from when we were waiting for the ferry to arrive.
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| My beautiful mom |
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| Sheri and Mike |
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| My goofy dad |
Now some photos from while we were on the ferry! We had a lovely, windy trip across the water. Especially considering the smothering heat of recent weeks, being blown around by the wind was worth the relieving coolness.
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| Mom and Sheri getting windblown |
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| The ladies! Check out my mom's faux hawk! :) |
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| Feisty little tugboat doing it's job |
We had a lovely time. While in Southport, I was able to find a couple more Christmas gifts adding to my vastly growing gift list found excitingly early in the year! I thoroughly enjoy finding gifts throughout the year as I experience different traveling adventures!
Also while in Southport I got the supplies for my latest The Right to Write assignment, which was to grab five postcards and send them out to five friends. The full assignment was to set a 15min timer and spend no more than 2-3min on each one. Well...the Olympics are on and I'm captivated. So I decided to leave off the timer requirement and write in the breaks of the gymnastics competition. (On a sidenote: the image of Jordyn Wieber crying when she doesn't make the cut for the all-around absolutely broke my heart.)
As soon as I collect all the addresses from my friends, I'll be sending off five postcards, one each to California, Oregon, Arizona, Michigan and DC. I hadn't realized that I was picking such a broad base for my recipients, but it was a pleasant discovery.
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| Southport postcards for my friends |
I don't really have a neat, clean way planned to tie up this blog. But, as Julia Cameron constantly reminds me, it's worth it to write simply for the sake of writing! I hope all of you out there had a wonderful weekend and begin a promising new week filled with love! -Kelley
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