Monday, September 15, 2014

9.9.14 Sometimes We Fall Into Hard Times

Photo: Sometimes we find ourselves falling into hard times. The hard times can be hopelessness, or a lingering grief; loneliness that is far more dire than we are willing to admit, a sense of emptiness, or a sense of feeling not being enriched our lives.
     Its so easy to try to look the other way, as if it will go away, and things will improve.
     It's a very difficult to learn that what you nourish  improves. And what you avoid gets worse. It's just one of those tenants of life that is absolutely true, sooner-or later.
     Of course, when we need to change things, and it still ispossible to do it on our own, versus with the aid of professional help, the hardest time to do something new and different is when we are feeling these challenges. 
     That's another basic tenant of life, isn't it? If we're doing well, everyone is more interested in us. Things roll into place somehow. And when we're not doing well? We're not a very fun person to be with. More and more things seem to hit us harder than they used to. And the whole deal snowballs.
     It's hard to problem-solve on our own, or have the courage to ask a friend, or find a therapist who fits for us, or a rabbi or a priest or minister, to help us consider the situation. It's really hard to face it. 
     For example, when we truly are too lonely. Loneliness harms. Loneliness starves.  Loneliness shortens the lives of people and animals. Loneliness is a very difficult thing.
     Loneliness preys  upon itself. Loneliness tends to make us doubt our own self-worth. Foster's our lack of confidence that possibly somebody wants to be in our company. 
     Loneliness can lead to depression and despair and terrible isolation. Often, when somebody well-meaning asks us if everything is okay, we have that strange compulsion, right? To put a smile on our face, and, and in complete denial, say "Oh , of course I am." And then slink away, knowing that it is not true at all. Having absolutely no idea how to ask for help I confide in anyone.
     There are a lot of people who are really helpful for problem-solving with. Often times we need somebody outside of our own selves to help us look at the situation anew.     
With fresh eyes. 
     We are herd animals. We are not meant to be one Canadian goose or one elephant. We're meant to be with others. And the culture  we have now? Makes  it difficult to figure out how to do that.
      And not end up being all alone, at home, eating something not so great, and watching TV.
     It takes a lot of courage to figure out how to decide upon a new plan. That's realistic and manageable. And doesn't make us too tired. Especially after our day, whether it involves a job, or health challenges, that limit how much or how late we can do things..
     But there are so many possibilities. 
     Sometimes we need to do something at first with somebody we know, because it is really hard to take that first step. 
     But we have to remember that no one knows how nervous we are. Or how much doubt we have over our self-worth. Or  our imaginings of our patheticness. No one has a clue about those things. Those are really important things to remember. You're the only one who knows that you foster those ideas.
     And inevitably? None of them are true. They are just places that we go to when  things have been hard and lonely or whatever else is ailing us.
     It's very difficult to have the courage to figure out how to have a nourishing life, in a way that fits our health and our habits of energy and our schedules. But it's really possible. It's simpler than it seems. And it really truly buffers us from health problems of many kinds.
     It's a lot like a recipe for bread. Where you don't want it to be some loaf that crumbles and you can't slice it. Or so tough and dry and hard that you can slice it but you can hardly bite into it. Something in between. 
    So you often have to work at it, messing around with the recipe, to figure out how to make the bread that works best for you.
     It seems our lives are recipes too. I remember when my children were young, and we moved from a house in Shelburne Falls, where my youngest spent a lot of time up in a tree, that meant a great deal to them.      
     They had a  friends at houses down the street, and a number of other things that they really enjoyed.
     When we moved, we got a video game. There were no special trees. There were no friends down the street. Everything changed.
      And one day I sat down with them and said, "You know, if we drew your life as if it was a pie, and we cut up in slices the different things that matter to you, and we compared our old house to where we live now, we could see what your life looks like. Because you don't seem very happy. And you're playing video games a lot."
     He agreed, and we drew two circles. The first one had big slices  at the old house with the friends down the street and the playing in the woods and all of the outdoor time and climbing in the tree whenever they were happy or sad.
     The new circle showed that they weren't really playing that much with friends, that they weren't  interested in that many things, and that the videogame  had become  a great big fat piece of pie. And, they were irritable and not very happy, and always always waiting to play the video game.
     We sat down and we figured out the things that they really liked to do, the things they kind of liked to do, and the things that maybe if you did enough, they would come to enjoy.
     And we did that thing you do with younger kids. Where you figure out a reward system. For engaging in the really fun things, sort of fun things, and that maybe it will never be fun things.
     This kid was not an adult, tired and stressed  after a long day, or with kids of their own, or with health problems. 
       But we did that for a month, and kept track, and then at the end of the month we drew two circles.
     And I asked them and they told me how big each of the sections were. And you know the end of the story. Of course. 
     That videogame slice became smaller. It happened more often when a friend came over. 
      And we figured out new things for them to enjoy. And then they had a more balanced source of nourishment, from a variety of origins.
    They  got to do childcare with their sibling  for a family of a whole bunch of kids, where the mom was there but needed helpers. Which gave them money. So they could save up for things they wanted.
     They liked me to read to them  still at night, and so we would go to the library and I would do my own research and we would find books that they were really interested in. Especially nonfiction, about certain kind of animals or periods of time.
     We bought two large Lego sets, and that was something we put in the living room on a sheet, so that anyone could sit down with them and hang out and talk and laugh and joke around, while making stuff together.
     And they and their sibling began walking the dog around the block together, which meant that they started getting to know the new neighborhood, and started waving to the neighbors, and seeing who had all kinds of cats that they could go up to and get to know. They ended up feeling a  little bit more independent that way too. Going out and seeing the world on their own.
     I've had clients as a case manager at a home care, working with older people. Clients  as a counselor. Clients as an Acupressurist. 
     And now in my own life, I have a physical condition, which enables me to have the smallest battery of energy you could possibly imagine.     
     There's a real need , like a lot of people with health conditions , to meter out what energy I have with great consciousness. 
     And it becomes more more important for me to really plan how to ensure that my life is not isolated and is enriched enough.
       It's not easy to consider going for the first time to the local bookstore's book club once a month. But if you do it, the same people are generally there the next month, and you get to know each other. Or your local library. 
     It's not easy to decide that even though you're not 150, you might go to a free physics class at your senior center, not to take notes or have tests, but just to learn with the same group of people each week, all about the universe.
     You might decide to take a cooking class, not because you really want to learn how to cook, but because once a week you are with the same people. And you are reciprocating nourishment.
     Or  you have tea or coffee once a week or once a month with a friend who may not be your best friend in the world, but nice to be with now and then.
     If you're healthy and you have energy, you may decide that you're going to mentor an elementary school kid or middle school or high school kid, for an hour a week,  and you try it out for a semester and see how it goes, starting small.
     There are so many ways to consciously schedule  enough interactions, rubbing shoulders with the same library staff once or twice a week. Smiling to the person at the small grocery store in the neighborhood. Talking over the merits of some tool at another shop.
     The funny thing is, every single person needs to ensure that they are exchanging enrichment. 
     Some people have a great big family and they're bumping into each other and they are just dying for a moment alone. I know most of my life is been like that until now.
     Most of us? No. For most of us we need to use some kind of conscious awareness. To look ahead at our week. To figure out how to have a reciprocal relationship with others, Be they  little tiny ways, or bigger ways. To really hedge out  bets. 
      And ensure that physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, we're taking good care of ourselves.
     When I was a teenager , we read the work of Voltaire. And there were some things  that stayed with me.        
     In his own French manner from hundreds of years ago,he  used the allegory of a garden, if you remember? Saying that it's important to cultivate and nourish your garden.
    It I really stayed with me. Realizing  for the first time in my life ,  that awareness that I had a life, and that it necessitated care. 
     Like a garden, I needed the right amount of rain and sun and fertilizer and weeding. 
    When my kids were growing up , when I used to talk to clients, when I talk with myself? I talk about cultivating our garden. 
     So here, is to a rich, fertile, beautifully cared-for garden of your own.

     Sometimes we find ourselves falling into hard times. The hard times can be hopelessness, or a lingering grief; loneliness that is far more dire than we are willing to admit, a sense of emptiness, or a sense of feeling not being enriched our lives.
     It's so easy to try to look the other way, as if it will go away, and things will improve.
     It's a very difficult to learn that what you nourish improves. And what you avoid gets worse. It's just one of those tenants of life that is absolutely true, sooner-or later.
     Of course, when we need to change things, and it still is impossible to do it on our own, versus with the aid of professional help, the hardest time to do something new and different is when we are feeling these challenges.
     That's another basic tenant of life, isn't it? If we're doing well, everyone is more interested in us. Things roll into place somehow. And when we're not doing well? We're not a very fun person to be with. More and more things seem to hit us harder than they used to. And the whole deal snowballs.
     It's hard to problem-solve on our own, or have the courage to ask a friend, or find a therapist who fits for us, or a rabbi or a priest or minister, to help us consider the situation. It's really hard to face it.
     For example, when we truly are too lonely. Loneliness harms. Loneliness starves. Loneliness shortens the lives of people and animals. Loneliness is a very difficult thing.
     Loneliness preys upon itself. Loneliness tends to make us doubt our own self-worth. Foster's our lack of confidence that possibly somebody wants to be in our company.
     Loneliness can lead to depression and despair and terrible isolation. Often, when somebody well-meaning asks us if everything is okay, we have that strange compulsion, right? To put a smile on our face, and, and in complete denial, say "Oh , of course I am." And then slink away, knowing that it is not true at all. Having absolutely no idea how to ask for help I confide in anyone.
     There are a lot of people who are really helpful for problem-solving with.         

     Often times we need somebody outside of our own selves to help us look at the situation anew.
     With fresh eyes.
     We are herd animals. We are not meant to be one Canadian goose or one elephant. We're meant to be with others. And the culture we have now? Makes it difficult to figure out how to do that.
     And not end up being all alone, at home, eating something not so great, and watching TV.
     It takes a lot of courage to figure out how to decide upon a new plan. That's realistic and manageable. And doesn't make us too tired. Especially after our day, whether it involves a job, or health challenges, that limit how much or how late we can do things..
     But there are so many possibilities.
     Sometimes we need to do something at first with somebody we know, because it is really hard to take that first step.
     But we have to remember that no one knows how nervous we are. Or how much doubt we have over our self-worth. Or our imaginings of our patheticness. No one has a clue about those things. Those are really important things to remember. You're the only one who knows that you foster those ideas.
     And inevitably? None of them are true. They are just places that we go to when things have been hard and lonely or whatever else is ailing us.
     It's very difficult to have the courage to figure out how to have a nourishing life, in a way that fits our health and our habits of energy and our schedules. But it's really possible. It's simpler than it seems. And it really truly buffers us from health problems of many kinds.
     It's a lot like a recipe for bread. Where you don't want it to be some loaf that crumbles and you can't slice it. Or so tough and dry and hard that you can slice it but you can hardly bite into it. Something in between.
     So you often have to work at it, messing around with the recipe, to figure out how to make the bread that works best for you.
     It seems our lives are recipes too. I remember when my children were young, and we moved from a house in Shelburne Falls, where my youngest spent a lot of time up in a tree, that meant a great deal to them.
      They had a friends at houses down the street, and a number of other things that they really enjoyed.
     When we moved, we got a video game. There were no special trees. There were no friends down the street. Everything changed.
     And one day I sat down with them and said, "You know, if we drew your life as if it was a pie, and we cut up in slices the different things that matter to you, and we compared our old house to where we live now, we could see what your life looks like. Because you don't seem very happy. And you're playing video games a lot."
     He agreed, and we drew two circles. The first one had big slices at the old house with the friends down the street and the playing in the woods and all of the outdoor time and climbing in the tree whenever they were happy or sad.
     The new circle showed that they weren't really playing that much with friends, that they weren't interested in that many things, and that the videogame had become a great big fat piece of pie. And, they were irritable and not very happy, and always always waiting to play the video game.
     We sat down and we figured out the things that they really liked to do, the things they kind of liked to do, and the things that maybe if you did enough, they would come to enjoy.
     And we did that thing you do with younger kids. Where you figure out a reward system. For engaging in the really fun things, sort of fun things, and that maybe it will never be fun things.
     This kid was not an adult, tired and stressed after a long day, or with kids of their own, or with health problems.
     But we did that for a month, and kept track, and then at the end of the month we drew two circles.
     And I asked them and they told me how big each of the sections were. And you know the end of the story. Of course.
     That videogame slice became smaller. It happened more often when a friend came over.
     And we figured out new things for them to enjoy. And then they had a more balanced source of nourishment, from a variety of origins.
     They got to do childcare with their sibling for a family of a whole bunch of kids, where the mom was there but needed helpers. Which gave them money. So they could save up for things they wanted.
     They liked me to read to them still at night, and so we would go to the library and I would do my own research and we would find books that they were really interested in. Especially nonfiction, about certain kind of animals or periods of time.
     We bought two large Lego sets, and that was something we put in the living room on a sheet, so that anyone could sit down with them and hang out and talk and laugh and joke around, while making stuff together.
     And they and their sibling began walking the dog around the block together, which meant that they started getting to know the new neighborhood, and started waving to the neighbors, and seeing who had all kinds of cats that they could go up to and get to know. They ended up feeling a little bit more independent that way too. Going out and seeing the world on their own.
     f

In my own life, then and now, I use this tool, the visual picture of the pie, with all the pieces of my life, there for clear view.
      I take myself in hand.
     I say “Something is off, sweetheart. Let’s check it out, shall we? “
     And I make the circles, one maybe for last year, or six months ago, or a month ago…and one for now.
     I delineate the parts of my life.
     It’s so different for each of us. What we must do. What fills us with satisfaction or fills our needs or ensures our connectiveness.
     And then, it shows up. Whatever the heck has shifted, or changed, unbeknownst to me, or known but in need of validating.
     Radically accepting, which does not necessarily mean feeling better, but often simply sitting with feeling uncomfortable.
     And then making choices for the future.
      And changing the focus of the moment. Or the evening.
     Or the bright early morning that may feel so weighted and blunted.
     Until we pick ourselves up, embrace ourselves with a smile we found somewhere or other, and turn ourselves to something new; something fresh, something away from the stuckness of the weight and the blunt and the uncomfortable.
     Something that reflects so many other vantage points that we actually can accesss, if we simply take ourselves to the left a bit, or turn ourselves toward the sunrise, or change our morning routine, or sing a bright song on the way to work, with vigor J , annoying the heck out of ourselves, as we pull ourselves from the muck and back on track.         I've had clients as a Case Manager of a Home Care,  working with older people. Clients as a counselor. Clients as an Acupressurist.
     And now in my own life, I have a physical condition, which enables me to have the smallest battery of energy you could possibly imagine.
     There's a real need , like a lot of people with health conditions , to meter out what energy I have with great consciousness.
     And it becomes more more important for me to really plan how to ensure that my life is not isolated and is enriched enough.
     It's not easy to consider going for the first time to the local bookstore's book club once a month. But if you do it, the same people are generally there the next month, and you get to know each other. Or your local library.
     It's not easy to decide that even though you're not 150, you might go to a free physics class at your senior center, not to take notes or have tests, but just to learn with the same group of people each week, all about the universe.
     You might decide to take a cooking class, not because you really want to learn how to cook, but because once a week you are with the same people. And there, you are reciprocating nourishment.
     Or you have tea or coffee once a week or once a month with a friend who may not be your best friend in the world, but nice to be with now and then.
If you're healthy and you have energy, you may decide that you're going to mentor an elementary school kid or middle school or high school kid, for an hour a week, and you try it out for a semester and see how it goes, starting small.
     There are so many ways to consciously schedule enough interactions, rubbing shoulders with the same library staff once or twice a week. Smiling to the person at the small grocery store in the neighborhood. Talking over the merits of some tool at another shop.
     The funny thing is, every single person needs to ensure that they are exchanging enrichment.
     Some people have a great big family and they're bumping into each other and they are just dying for a moment alone. I know most of my life is been like that until now.
     Most of us? No. For most of us we need to use some kind of conscious awareness. To look ahead at our week. To figure out how to have a reciprocal relationship with others, Be they little tiny ways, or bigger ways. To really hedge out bets.
     And ensure that physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, we're taking good care of ourselves.
     When I was a teenager , we read the work of Voltaire. And there were some things that stayed with me.
     In his own French manner from hundreds of years ago, he used the allegory of a garden, if you remember? Saying that it's important to cultivate and nourish your garden.
     It really grew into a part of  me. Realizing for the first time in my life , that awareness that I had a life, and that it necessitated care.
     Like a garden, I needed the right amount of rain and sun and fertilizer and weeding.
     When my kids were growing up , when I used to talk to clients, when I talk with myself? I talk about cultivating our garden.
     So here, is to a rich, fertile, beautifully cared-for garden life  of your own.

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