Unseen -

It is my daily goal to do one good turn for a stranger. I often pay for someone's coffee at the hospital cafeteria, give a used gift card with a few dollars left to the next person in line at a restaurant, pull a weed or two from a yard or garden, pick up trash on a walk, compliment someone - my latest favorite was a cashier at the grocery store I frequent - complimented her on her awesome hair style and her cool glasses; she seriously had no words and turned bright pink. When I saw her earlier this week, she remembered.

It really is satisfying to give without any desire for anything in return, yet in giving, I do receive. For instance, yesterday afternoon, I pulled the car into the driveway and there was the cutest 3 year old girl standing on the backdoor step waiting for me, wanting to play with Ronda. So much fun granting her run of the living room while recharging with little girl energy. 

I appreciated this story today, on NPR, about a woman lost and found by a woman who made a pact years ago to reach out (very short read or listen). 

My hospital work keeps me unseen - I don't take patients, or their stuff, home; I seldom share my life, and once they're discharged, I'm on to my next patient - which feeds my need for "carrying less," and this anonymity helps me as I recharge my introvert soul. 

Anyway, my meanderings for the week. Happy Friday - 

Flowers and Weeds - Perspective -

I came home from a day of friend time with a Mister Lincoln brilliant red rose bush, stopping at Sunriver Gardens to purchase this, which happens to be the happiest place on Utah County shopping earth. 

Scott does not like rose bushes. He's made this very apparent over the years, stating his parents had roses, and they grew totally out of control. In his mind, roses are thorny weeds. 

My counter-argument to this was to point out his giant sunflowers he proudly grows every year, come up voluntarily (as well as planted seedlings) and taking up so much garden space. I enjoy watching them grow, yet they're sunflowers, ginormous, taking up too much space and sun. They're pretty, but I wouldn't choose these to dedicate my time to. 

Well, he even helped me plant the rose bush, and I soaked the sunflower seeds for him to plant on Monday.

I walked outside from my office into the hospital yesterday, the landscaping around the courtyard here is beautiful, and yet I couldn't help but notice bright yellow dandelions, throughout the flower bed. My impulse was to kneel down and start digging. And then I saw the purple Creeping Jenny filling in the space between shrubs, and thought how lovely the ground cover is.  

I thought of Chick and Marie Swan, neighbors of ours in Alabama. Marie walked the neighborhood with a dagger attached to the end of  a long stick, digging up every dandelion she saw. She was super-vigilant in her desire to eradicate the neighborhood from dandelions. And yet the tiny purple grape hyacinth that spread right along-side the dandelions were more invasive and ignored. 

I thought of Mr. Lindsay, the USU-trained nursery-man, Brigham City neighbor, who spent his time pulling Creeping Jenny from every ditch-bank and public garden along his morning, afternoon, and evening walks. He said it choked out other plants, and people who bought this to keep erosion down were crazy, it spread too fast and too far. English Ivy was his favorite ground cover, even though it has a reputation of being so spreading. 

I feel fortunate to live in a world of contradiction. Differing opinions, various perspectives, viewpoints that challenge or intrigue, fill my heart. I enjoy listening, learning, understanding, gathering. 

Do differences have to be conflict? Do perspectives have to be challenged? Do viewpoints have to destructive? I say there is room for a variety of thoughts, perspectives, ground cover, flowers, weeds in our lives. Even rose bushes and sunflowers. 

I've cited before, I'll do so again, Anthropologist Wade Davis said, "The world in which you were born is just one model of reality. Other cultures are not failed attempts at being you; they are unique manifestations of the human spirit." 

Here's to peacefully co-existing. 

 

Journeys - Growth -

Talking with several clients this week about experiences and growth - staying behind closed doors, closed curtains, protecting what we have, or opening ourselves, our lives, up to risks, and gains. We talked of all sorts of continuing education - formal classes, experiential - life, travel, and the journeys - physical, emotional, mental, we all go on. Here are some of the quotes we gathered: 

Traveling - it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.  ~Ibn Battuta, 14th century Explorer

Travel isn't always pretty. It isn't always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that's okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.  ~Anthony Bourdain

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, "Wow! What a Ride!"  ~Hunter S. Thompson

A favorite of mine - The world in which you were born is just one model of reality. Other cultures are not failed attempts at being you; they are unique manifestations of the human spirit.  ~Wade Davis

A journey is called that because you cannot know what you will discover on that journey. What you will do with what you find, or what you find will do to you.  ~James Baldwin

I've had my share of journeys - moves from one state to the next, from one city to another, from one culture to another; traveling through years of higher education; the journey through marriage, divorce, marriage; cancer to crashes; journeys through building and remodeling houses to negotiating with  the contractor dance; and then travels - from one life to the next, one relationship to another, jobs to careers, and Alaska to Amsterdam, fields of Sweden to fields of Southeastern Idaho. 

And I continue to journey, to change, to enjoy the ride (even if it wasn't the tour I thought I'd signed up for).  

Joni and James and Carole and Carly -

 Joni Mitchell, James Taylor, Carole King, Carly Simon - 

All music icons who were coming into their own in the late 60s while I was coming of age -  a young teen, quickly and easily influenced by their poignant and pointed storytelling lyrics, soulful sounds, and their singer-songwriter pure talent with guitar and voice. Plus, my "hippie" older aunt and uncle and cousins were my role models; I listened to what they provided, as well as Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel, and Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. 

Of any musicians who have heavily influenced my life - it is Joni, James, Carole, and Carly, along with big band music and crooners Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. Parental influence! 

So you an imagine my pure delight when Brandi Carlile introduced Joni Mitchell at the Newport Folk Festival, July 2022. Tears, tears, tears. 

The songs of these greats have not lost their impact. Interesting how their songs are timeless, as timeless as those of the Mamas and Papas; Peter, Paul, and Mary, Pete Seeger, and the Guthries. And their more contemporaries, Nanci Griffith, John Prine, John Hartford, Iris DeMent, Williams, Thompson, and others. 

I am hopeful for the "next" generation of singer-songwriters - those who don't count on the background music to make up for what they can't provide. I am hopeful that Carlile, Batiste, Krauss, can keep the magic that filled my soul for so many decades can do similarly for another young girl, looking for music that speaks her language, speaks to her soul, and gives her room to dream. 

And this last week - so amazingly beautiful, well-worth anyone's time. Long live their music - 

Being the Other - Fitting In -

I was reared with both of my parents saying, "Why would you like to be like everyone else?" I remember the first time I was told to be myself - 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Gooch, looking at my cursive writing, and knowing that the year before, Becky had been in her class, was my neighbor, and my idol, said to me, "Ronda, why would you want to be like someone else when being you is so important." I'm not sure that I truly understood what she was teaching me, yet the lesson lingered, and while my cursive did look a little like Becky's, it was definitely my hand-writing. 

Tough thing about this statement though, is that I have spent my years being different, and yearning to fit in. From 4th grade writing lesson to 5th grade not passing the "join the club" vetting, to my first marriage, divorcing, remarriage, and even my education and careers, I have been the black-sheep, although still a sheep. I believe being the other, has, to some degree, allowed me to step away from competing and comparing, and to forge my own path, my own hand-writing. 

If you don’t fit in, then you are probably doing the right thing.

Interestingly, shortly before posting this, a call came in that a patient had coded. All the medical team was working on the patient, and I was able to stand back with the spouse and explain what was happening, and hold her hand, and give the team space. 

And when everyone left the room, I remained, the other, the one not in scrubs, and the patient leaned in and said, "Thank you for being here." 

Today, when I was not fitting in, I stayed, doing what I do best, my right thing.

Mark Twain and Kind Words -

 

I believe in the power of kindness, a kind gesture, a kind word, a quick smile, a dollar to the dude

on the corner. As much as I give them, I seem to figure out they never come to me, so I savor 

the satisfaction that comes with giving. 

Michael Singer, in his book, The Untethered Soul, suggests that we are very good at holding onto the unkind words, actions, that are given to us, consciously or otherwise, acknowledging them and then shoving them into our heart where we keep them, protect them, hang on to them, and pull them out when we need the validation that we are the no-body we thought we were. And when kind words and gestures come our way, we listen, thank, then blow them off, because the unkindness in our hearts tells us we're not worthy of the kind words, or we're faking it, or the giver has no idea what they're saying.

Singer suggests that perhaps if we flung those unkindnesses away and hung onto the goodnesses that others send our way, we would be different people, ones to be  constantly looking for good, for ourselves and others, rather than always on the look out for bad. 

Six weeks ago, at work, with my gesture of transparency and honesty, I reached out to management with two requests. Both requests could have been done without approval, yet I wanted to make sure my requests were honest and timely. 

In an untimely fashion (after the fact) I received one response with a firm "no." And then hours after making my second request, I likewise received a "not in your job description, so no," response. 

I left my office for a short walk, trying hard to let go of the negative, hold on to the goodness. But I was tired, still recovering from a 10 day cold, and I did not want to be at work. So the negative lingered. 

I walked into the Palliative Care Clinic, into an office, and our newest employee sat down next to me. She said, "I have told all of my friends who ask about my interview, that sitting by the chaplain was the best thing for me. You were calm, your energy was reassuring, and I was not anxious at all. I told them, if you ever have a healthcare job interview, request that a chaplain is seated next to you." This was unprovoked, a surprise to me, and a very generous gift. I held on. 

I came home, had to call my insurance representative for some car insurance info. After the business was finished he said, "Now we're finished with business, yes?" And I agreed, wondering. And he shared, "When I took the writing class from you (probably 5 years ago), I was so impressed with your teaching style. You pushed us all to go outside of our typical thinking when we gathered resources for our research papers. I remember one student wanting to write about a religious topic, and you told them that was fine, but they needed to find other resources as well, religious magazines were not scholarly documents, rather popular. You really pounded this into us. And as I began writing my paper on DACA (his SIL was a DACA child), I looked at popular articles, and you told me to think critically, think outside of my box. And I did, on that paper and on so many other things that were troubling me at the time. I looked past my comfort zone, and what I found, on so many other things that I wanted to take as truth, that there were many many other sides." 

He continued, "I was doubting my religion, questioning the size of my family, looking for reasons to stay in my faith community and reasons to totally walk away. And then I looked critically, talked to others inside and out. And - we're out, and became foster parents, and then we adopted two of the children, and one is transitioning, and I could not have done any of this without your lessons on critical thinking and validating resources. Thank you." Wow, and thank you. 

And then, as he was sharing this with me, I received a text with a picture of a prayer note left for me in the hospital chapel. The note was from the father of a young couple who were married in the hospital chapel, where their very sick father could attend; I arranged for treats, arranged for the nurse to bring the father to the chapel, and made the place as simply perfect as I could. The note said, "Prayer of Thank; Chaplain Ronda, My Absolute Gratitude for Helping our Daughter Have the Dream Wedding she thought she wouldn't be able to have. Thank You for being so kind and willing to Make This Happen." 

Mark Twain said, "I could live for two months on a good compliment." Six months worth here, and I'm holding them closely and tenderly. 

Medicine and Taste -

I have guzzled nearly 20 oz of cough syrup these past several days, swallowed enormous antibiotics and their associated probiotics, renewed acquaintances with Zinc, C, K, and Mucinex, all while also considering the associated gut trauma that taking these meds (and this terrible cold) cause. No appetite, no taste, no smell, no desire, just lingering between tissue and toilet paper, bed and couch, snot head and med fog. 

I often tell my patients to make their daily meds, that often trigger ridiculously awful side-effects, their friends, particularly because they will be together for a very long time, as well as because they're meant to help rather than hinder. So give the med a name or a positive characteristic, and take them with robust rather than drudge. Ingest kindness. 

Yesterday I was talking with two sisters about Karma - what goes around, comes around. What the mind thinks tends to be realized. Positive thinking. The conversation turned to, "Getting a taste of our own medicine." And of course, this phrase has a negative connotation to it - "Well, now they can get a taste of their own medicine." "I hope he'll get a taste of his own medicine, he'll see." And we think of this as bitter nasty medicine. 

But - why would we ingest bitter nasty medicine? If I want a taste of my own medicine, it better darn well be scrumptious, or at least cherry-flavored. This what I better be ready to share. 

So the meds I've been taking - they're awesome; they're the bomb-diggity; they are filled with goodness and healing and wonder and miracles, and I am forever grateful for them. 

And today I will give others what I want to receive, a taste of my own yummy meds. 

Amen. Cough, cough, where's the tissue?