Gathering My Thoughts -

I began my social media sabbatical mid-February; I've been off Facebook and Instagram since then. I'm going on a FolkladysAdventure for the next little while, so I'll sign off here, leaving a few thoughts I've gathered this past few months.

Until . . .

Pathological Optimist -

I visited with a spouse of a patient who recently passed away. He was busy working on finalizing a book, talking about what his hopes are for that - Intentional Grandparenting. He shared with me his Mother's day experience for the first MD since his wife had passed: he went through his wife's jewelry, sorted through pieces, then hand-selected broaches and bracelets and necklaces for each daughter and grand-daughter. He put them in bags with a bow, and gave them to each person on Saturday. When they got together on Sunday, all of the children had these pieces on. He said he was so grateful he had decided to do this.

He talked about his wife's death and how beautiful it was, how grateful he was for his daughters and their help, and how much he missed her, but he knew she was enjoying her time in heaven with her family. 

I asked him about his outlook, looking forward, moving forward. And he said, "I'm a pathological optimist." I thought about a patient last week who asked, "What's wrong with being Pollyanna'ish? I think we give her a bum rap - there's nothing wrong with always looking for the silver lining." Another friend said, "I am skeptically optimistic." 

What's the difference between the three? And where do I fit in this continuum? Is optimism a healthy attribute? 

I do try to look for the best in others, even those who are not necessarily the best. And yet, I'm cautious - not showing all my cards until I can trust (and even then I'm hesitant). I am hopeful when I move into a project, cautious in determining what my role is, who the bosses are going to be, who the players are, and if the project is even real. I'm definitely not Pollyanna in my thinking. Life isn't full of sunshine and lollipops - I've had enough life experiences to know that some days are just cloudy, and tomorrow may be as well. 

So if I have to define myself and my optimistic outlook - I think I'd say I'm realistically optimistic, or critically thinking optimistic. I've learned to see inside, between, around, through people, events, projects, look for what can happen, what might happen, what should happen, and the time involved in building relationships and projects, and then decide if they are even worth my time. 

And you? 

What Makes You Come Alive?

I've been thinking about this question for quite some time - and I have a variety of answers:

A project that pushes me
A philosophical conversation
Critical thinking
Good acoustic music
Indian food
Belgium pastries
A warm blanket
Teaching a class of students who aren't afraid to ask questions
Visiting with a patient
Smell of a humid cool morning
Sitting in a car warmed by the sun
Discovery
Cuddling with a grandchild or Scott
A walk through a nursery

And this past few months I've been blessed to experience all of these. Being aware of this question has, to a large degree, made my recognition of these moments for what they are - moments of living, and - living in that moment.

This Tedx talk by Peter Breinholt presents some great thoughts and some great questions.

• What do you think about when you don't have to think about anything else? 
• What is your passion? 
• What makes you come alive? 

Did you ever play Hide and Go Seek? Was this your phrase? When was the last time you said this to yourself?

Dead man, dead man come alive

Before I count to the number five

One, two, three, four, five

Come alive! 

May is for Mindfulness -

With so much planned for this month, I am going to set my intent on "Being Here Now," and making sure Mindfulness is a focus for May.

RandomActsofKindness.org and Passiton.com  are both sites I visit regularly for breathing and inspiration moments.

May's calendar is filled with suggestions for focusing on awareness, presentism, smelling the roses. Practice along with me?

70 - Happy Birthday Mr. Weaver -

It's my husband's birthday! He is incredible, and he is 70! When I asked him if life was as he had expected, his reply hit me hard. "I never thought I would see 70, not even 60. I was drinking, smoking, messing with women, angry, and I believed, 'eat, sleep, and be merry, for tomorrow I may die.'" "And I'm happier today than I've ever been. More alive today than ever."

I love this man. Happy Birthday, Mr. Weaver!

Astrology - Signs?

So -

My first husband's birthday is May 6. Scott's is May 2. 3 years difference. Both Taurus.

My birthday is January 30. My first husband's wife's birthday is January 30. 1 year difference. Both Aquarius.

Odd? 

On Being Healthy - The Absence of Sickness -

I had a crummy March - the influenza flu kicked my butt, and I'm still getting back to health - a lingering cold sore (my first in 39 years) is a constant reminder to slow down, sleep, take care of my body and my soul. And yet looking back on March and this much of April, I'd say I'm happy and healthy. Interesting that the absence of sickness can often mean healthy, regardless of whether or not we are fully well.

I'm reminded of this day 6 years ago - having my port removed meant I was moving forward to healthy, even though, looking back, I was definitely not a robust being. Yet the absence of cancer-related appointments and the releasing phrase, "Go home and heal," subtly meant closure and joy and health.

Today I happened on two bits of information that reiterate these thoughts. First, an amazing Tedx talk by Robert Waldinger (reminds me of teacher Parker Palmer). It is in regards to a study by the Harvard School of Adult Development, studying more than 700 men for more than 75 years studying health and happiness. And the simple summary is this phrase, "Good relationships keep us happier and healthier." How profound, how simple, yet how complicated. Waldinger quotes Mark Twain, "Some of the worst thing sin my life never happened," and again, "There isn't time, so brief is life, for bickerings, apologies, heartburnings, callings to account. There is only time for loving, and but an instant, so to speak, for that."

I was impressed with Waldinger's calm joyful presence. He radiates that which he has studied. And as I was learning more about Waldinger and this study, I learned that he is also a Zen priest. Which answers my wondering about his peace.

So searching to understand him more, I found this blog, and this post, not too very long ago, and my message above and the post I've pasted below, pretty much reiterates where I am today.

Happy Friyay!

TUESDAY, JANUARY 29, 2019

On Not Having a Headache

water spout gargoyle, Italy

After a couple of weeks of enduring various bouts of illness, including bronchitis caused by a virus that kept moving from one part of the body to another (lungs, sinus, throat) I am noticing the absence of sickness as a most subtle joy.  This feeling is physical, emotional and mental.  It arises as a softness and ease in navigating the world.

When I'm sick, I often resign myself to feeling tired and miserable forever.  This attitude, while admittedly negative and fairly depressing,  has the positive effect of eliminating the anxiety that comes with wondering when and if I will ever feel good again.

I've been lucky in my life so far -- my various chronic conditions have very mild or absent symptoms, and it's only when I'm struck down by a bacterial infection, headache or virus that I get to experience what many people know intimately on a daily basis.  I'm reminded, in this tender presence of the absence of illness, of the Vietnamese Zen teacher Thich Nhat Hanh's description of the return of health as "the feeling of not having a headache."  When we are suffering, we forget what the absence of suffering feels like.  It's so subtle...and so sweet.  I'm planning to enjoy it until it changes once again into something challenging.  The memory of illness acts as a reminder to have empathy for everyone who struggles with ill health, while knowing that at some point I will once again join this noble company of suffering myself.