The Gift that Everyone Needs

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Tis the season for gift giving, whether you celebrate Hannukah, Las Posadas, Christmas, Kwanzaa, or a Hallmark “every day is a holiday” creation. People are buying gift cards, and trinkets to make someone they care about feel the joy of the season. Yet, it is said, “The best things in life are free.” (Interestingly this saying is credited to Coco Chanel who also famously added, “the second-best things are very, very expensive.”) I believe this is true, “the best things in life are free” as it relates to dollars and cents, and one of those best things is the gift of presence.

Presence is showing up, the state of being in place, being in attendance – it is a physical and spiritual thing. (Check out the etymology of the word in a dictionary.) In other words, you are singularly focused on being in a place with another person or people – mind, body, and soul. This is important because too often we consider ourselves present when our minds are elsewhere; like when you see a couple at dinner and they are both on their cell phones. Their bodies are in the right place, but their focus is not. They are really not present with one another. Being present requires us to fully give of ourselves – to be engaged. Our senses, our attention, and our focus is for the person or people we are with. We intentionally show up mentally and emotionally as well as physically. Each of us are seen and heard and appreciated. This is the gift that everyone needs, and I would like to think that everyone wants.

Presence is the gift that keeps on giving. When all the holiday decoration is gone and the parties are over, presence lingers on and creates a chain for future connections. It’s a gift that both the recipient and the giver can enjoy simultaneously, and it’s a gift that can be renewed over and over again. In today’s society, we need to make meaningful connections with the people in our lives and community. We need to know one another more intimately rather than make unwarranted assumptions about one another. We need to identify our commonalities, and form cherish-able memories. We need to let one another know how valuable our relationships are before we have regrets and before it’s too late. Every relationship requires a certain amount of presence to thrive.

If there are special people in your life (children, parents, spouses, siblings, friends, neighbors, co-workers, merchants, mentors, ministers, club members, charitable servants, etc.) it’s not too late to give the gift of presence to someone in your life. Perhaps there is that friend you have been meaning to call and catch up with. Perhaps there is a relative you saw at the last family funeral, and you said: “Let’s not meet this way again, let’s get together soon.” Perhaps there’s an elderly neighbor who could use a little company every now and then. Or maybe there is someone in your life who has given you the gift of their presence and you’ve not taken the time to tell them what they mean to you. The gift of presence is intangible. It doesn’t wear out or go out of style. The value of presence is an indescribably investment – one that you can carry with you and distribute for the rest of your life. 

Someone you know needs the gift of presence not because it’s the season of giving and getting, but because there is nothing like being known and seen, honored and appreciated, received and treasured. When you give the gift of presence you leave an indelible mark of true companionship and comradery that is priceless and continues to give for a lifetime. As long as you have breath, it’s never too late to give the gift that everyone needs. 

May the New Year bring you many gifts of presence and in this case, it really is better to give than to receive. Happy Hanukkah, Feliz Los Posadas, Merry Christmas, Kwanzaa Peace. Blessings in the New Year.

 

We Need More Storytellers

Isn’t it funny how things from your childhood pop up from time to time. I can remember friends and adults telling me, “You better quit your storytelling.” I grew up in a generation where you didn’t use the word “lie,” you were either fibbing or telling stories. Today, I consider myself a necessary storyteller. My medium is narrative poetry and prose. My stories are mostly fiction with real life as a backdrop (aka: representational literature). I tell my own stories and the stories of my ancestors. I tell stories with morals and stories just for shear entertainment, but mostly I tell stories to connect generations. Trials, triumphs, struggle, hard work, hopes, dreams, love, family – these are just a few timeless themes that can reach out and touch members of every generation. In this case, I’m not just talking about the written word, I’m talking about oral storytelling – stories in the midst of conversation. We need more of these kinds of storytellers in our world today.

You don’t have to be an author of books to be a storyteller. Your life is full of experiences and relationships that create a storytelling opportunity. The time you had your first kiss, when you found out you were going to have a brother or sister, what it was like when you moved from your parents’ home or went off to college – these milestones and more are stories waiting for you to tell them. Things we can identify with and learn from can be found in the lives of other people. That’s why so many people love to read memoirs, biographies, autobiographies, historical fiction and to watch documentaries. We are interested in how people made their dreams come true or how they survived a crisis or how they overcame the obstacles of systematic societal phenomenon. We are fascinated by love stories and the work ethic and processes of a visionary. We even live vicariously through the adventures and travels of others. Whether you think of your life as mundane or extraordinary, you have a story to tell that no one else can tell quite like you.

As I talk to teenagers and young adults it always surprises me that they feel like they have to go life alone. As older adults we tend to blame their feelings of despair and detachment on cell phones and social media, but that’s not really the problem. The problem is all of us. We don’t engage in conversations the way generations did before the technology boon. I remember when there was only two ways to find answers: ask somebody or read a book or both. You couldn’t get an answer without a story. Young people are facing some of the same experiences and fears that we all have had. They could benefit from hearing how we conquered our fears. They could be encouraged by the stories of how we had to start again and again before we got it right or how we had to reinvent ourselves to stay current in the industrial age. They could find hope in the fact that we had so little but still accomplish so much with that little. I’m not talking about preaching or even teaching, I’m taking about sharing, investing, and leaving an indelible mark. Youngsters, teens, and young adults are a ready audience for your stories.

While we have an open audience for our stories, we can also be an audience for the stories of others. I spend a lot of time with people older than me. In fact, that’s part of the story of my life, I have always been around people much older than myself. Years ago, and today I learn so much from the older generation. Innumerable stories about the Great Depression, the First Pandemic, moving from the South to the North, domestic jobs, civil rights activism, faith, answered prayers, living among the famous, surviving wars, and so much more have been shared with me. Fascinating tales of trials and victories, love and family, death and hatred that I have not experienced except for someone being willing to share their story with me. Older adults love to talk about the “good ole or bad ole days.” Many of them are from the generation when conversation was the normal way of life. Conversation was the medium for obtaining news because everyone didn’t have radio or TV. Some of them could catch up on the party line (old fashion telephone network when several people shared the same line), or in the church yard, or the quilting bee, or the fields during harvest, or at the civic meetings held in the schoolhouse. They shared everything from obituaries to new births by talking to each other. Almost everything in the community traveled by word of mouth, and they haven’t forgotten a single word. Trust me, there are stories you need to hear from the senior adults in and around your life. Listening can bring joy to the teller and the listener.

Long ago, I ignored those persons who told me to stop telling stories. I don’t want to stop. I want to continue telling stories and listening stories. Stories make you laugh, cry, reflect, dream, remember and imagine. Stories help you empathize and sympathize with the life journey of others. Stories can bring healing and understanding as well as open up new avenues of knowledge for the listener. Stories form a union between the teller and hearer, an intimate bond over a shared experience. Stories are our legacy – the part of us that will live on after our transition to the world beyond. The world needs more storytellers. Are you willing to share your stories? Do you have an audience just waiting for you to begin the small tales and the large volumes of your life’s journey? Have you been privy to stories you can retell so that the legacy of the original storyteller live on? I’d love to hear from you. Tell me your story.

“Storytelling is important. Part of human continuity.” – Robert Redford

An Indelible Mark

During a recent author talk, I found myself talking about the investment that my ancestors made in my life. Because they allowed me to be curious and took the time to answer my incessant questions, they each contributed to the person I am and am becoming. The husky laugh of my great grandfather, the supernatural patience of my great grandmother, the academic prodding of my grandmother, the fervent prayers of my mother, the proud recitations of my great uncle – all these things and much more have left an indelible mark on my life and my worldview. This seems like the way it should be – each generation leaving their mark on the next. So, I ask myself, what kind of mark am I leaving. Am I truly investing my life wisely, practically, and usefully in the generations around me?

At that same author talk, one of the parents of a student I taught in preschool and prekindergarten many years ago was present. Her daughter is now in college and has become quite the young lady. Her mom thanked me for laying the foundation for her daughter’s academic success. I couldn’t help but wonder if her daughter felt the same. Would she remember me the way I remember her. She was a bright and curious child, eager to please and filled with love and laughter. Beyond the academics, we laughed and danced, sang and read, and used the scientific method to investigate everything. She was one of many groups of children that have crossed my path as an educator and caregiver. I can only hope my methods left a positive impact on their young lives.

Not too long ago, I went into a bank to make a deposit for my mom. She and I stood in the line for several minutes before being called to a window. The young man at the window greeted us both by name before we presented any documentation. He said, “You don’t remember me, do you?” I had to admit I did not, nor did my mom. He introduced himself and told us he remembered us from a summer camp experience when he was in elementary school. He and his sister attended the program two years in a row. I ran the summer camp, and my mother ran the cafeteria program. He said, “Those were the best summers of our lives. I will never forget the field trips, the science experiments, and the kick ball games as long as I live. I wish y’all were still around for my kids.” Wow! I stood there proud and amazed. The summer camp and all its employees had left an indelible mark on this young man’s life.

I had a similar experience at Wal-Mart. This time there were two young men. One was a customer and the other a cashier. The customer said, “Aren’t you Ms. Wilson?” I hesitantly said yes. Then he said to the cashier, I told you so. I said, “You have me at a disadvantage who are you?” The customer started singing, O Holy Night. I laughed. During the years, when I worked for Will-Mariah Christian School he had sang O Holy Night for several of our Christmas programs. He was the older brother of one of our students. The cashier said you probably don’t know me, but you taught my little brother, and he told me his name. Little B (I’m withholding names because I didn’t get permission to use them. B was not his real name.) was hyperactive and very bright. He ran the teachers ragged and was sent to my office on a regular basis, but I never gave up on him. “OMG,” I said, “How is he, how’s your mom?” “He’s doing well, better than me. He joined the military and is stationed in N. Carolina. Mom is good. I can’t wait to tell her I saw you.” I not sure what kind of impact our school and staff had on these two siblings of our students, but apparently something touched them and stuck out in their minds; something that they had not forgotten over the years.

Each of us have an opportunity to leave an indelible mark. It doesn’t have to be academic in nature. It can be an act of kindness or sharing a story, a bit of food, or finances. It can be conversations or visits to a nursing home or children’s ward at a hospital. Encouraging words and expressions of faith in someone’s ability may be just the thing to make a marked and positive impact in someone’s life. Being a source of comfort or inquiry – a safe place for questions to be asked or secrets to be shared can leave an indelible mark which can be passed on to others by your example. It’s all about taking the time to invest your life in the lives of others – your time, talent, and treasure. (https://bene-log.com/2020/01/16/personal-investments/) It’s all about letting people know they are worth it. It’s about giving the gift of presence and wanting the best for others. (https://bene-log.com/2023/12/28/its-not-too-late-to-give-the-gift-of-presence/) Like all good things this can start at home and spread abroad.

What kind of mark are you leaving on your children, your grandchildren, your nieces and nephews? What if the only marks being left are negative and ugly – the marks of the world around them, rather than the marks of those who love them? Do we really want the marks that cannot be removed, erased, or forgotten to be all negative? I certainly don’t. I may not be able to stop those who choose to be the devil’s advocate, but I can certainly do my part to leave a legacy of positive impact. That’s what Bene-Log is all about – leaving a good word wherever I can.

Here’s a quote to live by: “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” – John Wesley

Now that’s a good word! PEACE!

My mom and I

Cherish Your Relationships

Not too long ago I wrote a piece on Fighting Loneliness (click the title if you missed it) . It was about missing the special relationships I had with my grandparents and great grandparents as well as their brothers and sisters. I really miss the times we spent together sharing stories and our hopes and dreams. Each one of those relationships hold a special place in my heart and always will, but that doesn’t mean I don’t treasure the relationships I have today. These relationships are equally as important and tremendously valuable to me. Sometimes we forget how valuable our relationships are. Every encounter and interaction is significant to our sense of belonging and our growth as a person. Relationships on various levels contribute to our self-esteem and our self worth in both positive and negative ways, but for this piece I want to concentrate on the positive ones.

Recently, my oldest granddaughter got married. Her wedding reunited family and friends from all over the country and from various walks of life. It felt like a family or class reunion. It was wonderful to catch up on all the events and achievements of each person. It made me realize how much I missed them. By not staying in contact for such long periods of time, I was totally out of touch. Somehow we had allowed life, work, technology, and general busyness to interfere with our ongoing relationships. Sure we hit each other up on social media from time to time and sent an occasional text message, but that is not the same as actively nurturing and growing a relationship. In the short time of the wedding and reception, we tried to share everything we missed. We laughed, we cried, we hugged, we tried to explain and share every trial and triumph. We could not have done that electronically and it was nearly impossible in the time we had on the day.

We experience words differently in person than we do in text. A person’s words are connected to their body language, inflection, and tone. In person these things add a dynamic to what is being said that we can only imagine in text. Whether it’s a coworker, your best friend, or a family member these interpersonal conversations are shared experiences when done in person. Discussions take on new meaning when you can see the person’s emotions or feel the tension in their body. We react to the total expression rather than trying to interpret meaning on the written page. That’s why actual friends mean more to you than social media friends. After all, you may not be at all aquatinted with the person on the other side of the screen even though you may have some common interest.

At the wedding, we all vowed to stay in contact and connect several times within the next couple of months. We said we would call, do lunch, or catch a movie – promises to cherish and nurture our relationships. I plan to keep those promises. Yet, it can only happen if I keep how much I value these relationships at the forefront of my mind. There are many important as well as trivial things that occupy my time and my thoughts, but I am willing to prioritize the relationships that are important to me starting with my immediate family, extended family and friends. Memories of our connections – how we met, the things we’ve done and said – these are the things I cherish in every relationship that I been blessed to have. I have been molded and shaped by precious connections both past and present so I am intent on cherishes my relationships.

How about you? Do you have relationships that you value? Are they in the past or in the present? How do you nurture the relationships you care about? I would love to hear from you.

Cherish your human connections – your relationships with friends and family.” – Barbara Bush

Grandparents with Bride and Groom

No Regrets

Today I received a survey from my undergraduate alma mater. It asked questions about the foundations taught there and whether they helped me in life today. At first, I thought that was so long ago, I have no idea; but, to my surprise I remember a lot. My experience had been great and challenging. I remember my professors and classmates. Indeed I learned a lot that I still use today. I learned how to do research, write nonfiction essays and public speaking. I also learned other skills such as keeping a budget and utilizing my time wisely. There was so much more to my college experience than academics. The final survey question was: “Would you choose this college again, if you had the choice today?” I answered absolutely. I have no regrets. I would recommend that my college to anyone. (The Master’s University in California)

Wouldn’t it be great if we could say we don’t have any regrets at all? Unfortunately, regret seems to be a part of life. Whether it’s due to difficulties in relationships, poor career choices, personal habits, or failure to move when the opportunity presented itself, we all have some regret. The bigger question is, what have we learned? Have we grown, remained the same, or degenerated. I certainly hope I’ve grown; I try to live with no regrets.

As some of you know, I have been a care provider for many years. It began with my grandchildren and eventually included my grandmother and my mother-in-law. My husband and I have been a part of “The Sandwich Generation.” That’s when you are sandwiched between generations as a care provider. We had our grandchildren and our parents to take care of on a daily basis making us the middle of the sandwich. While everyday was not an easy day, we tried to make sure everyone felt loved and seen. We worked hard to offer the best quality of life that was possible for our infirmed elders and for our growing adolescents. We never let wheelchairs or highchairs stop us from laughing with or loving our family. The blessing in that is now we can look back with no regrets.

I have shared things about my relationship with my mom in the past. Eventually, the whole story will come out. (lol) Today, I just want to share one incident. When I was in my late twenty’s my mother came to visit me in Arizona. It was the first time we spent time together in a number of years. She still lived in Ohio. At any rate, as we were standing in the airport for her departure, I heard a voice clearly say, “You need to make amends because you will have to take care of her someday.” Well, to some degree that seemed obvious, after all I am an only child, but for some reason this message seemed to hold a deeper meaning. I cried, I prayed, and I tried to define the kind of care my mother would need so I could be prepared. As you well know, there are some things you just can plan for. Since I don’t want to get off track from the topic at hand, I’ll just bullet point some live events:

  • Mom’s dad, my grandfather, had a paralyzing stroke
  • Her mom, my grandmother, was losing her sight to glaucoma
  • Mom experienced a double home invasion
  • We moved all of them to Georgia (my mom, grandmother and grandfather)
  • My grandfather died in a nursing home
  • My grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease

The day came when I knew my mom was in over her head. The stress of driving twenty miles to see my grandfather in his nursing home and taking care of my grandmother who was oppositional was taking its toll on her health. I realized if I didn’t step in, I was going to lose my mother too. My grandfather and grandmother were lost to me because Alzheimer’s had taken them away. I couldn’t stand by and let stress and exhaustion take my mother away. I needed to take care of her. The simplest way was to move her and my grandmother in with us. So, we sold our house (the house I loved) and she sold her house (the house she loved), and we bought the monstrosity we now live in. The grandchildren brought new life to my mom. She loved taking care of the baby while I dealt with my grandmother,

Maybe I’ll tell the rest of this story in the future. The point is, my mom and I have no regrets. We each took care of our loved ones to the best of our ability. We made decisions with their best interest in mine. The sacrifices we made allowed all of us to have a better quality of life. Now we live with the satisfaction that nothing was left undone or unsaid. There is no “wish I would have”, or “we should have”, or “if we could do that over” drama in our lives. We capitalized on giving everyone what they needed and some of what they wanted while giving ourselves permission to human. We ate cake, took vacations, celebrated holidays and holy days, ran a business, and nurtured our souls. It wasn’t easy, but it was living with laughter and love. I can honestly answer the survey question; I would do it all again.

The times I’ve had with my mom as an adult outweigh the hard times of my childhood. We’ve had so many wonderful trips and taking so many great pictures together, but more importantly we have survived many hardships together. At ninety-three she is slowing down. Dementia is knocking at the door. Mobility was modified by a stoke this past December. Still we’re taking a trip in July and looking forward to making more fond memories. We’re still too busy living to have regrets. I can tell you, I’m so thankful for that voice telling me I would have to take care of my mom. The reality is we take care of each other.

While I was working on this blog, I dreamed about death one night. I woke up thinking how regrets torment people when a loved one dies, and death can come at any time. Things left unsaid, unresolved conflict, or a wish that things had been different lead to regret. We have a chance to change all that while everyone is alive and breathing. Express love, forgive, find closure, do a good deed, extinguish your pride and live without remorse. That’s one less burden you have to carry. It’s just another game of “Show and Tell.” “Live, Love, Laugh” can be done, it’s a personal choice.

Mom and I enjoying our vacation

Don’t Just Show – Them Tell Them

All my life I’ve heard the saying, “Actions speak louder than words,” but I beg to differ. Actions only speak louder when I understand the meaning of the action. When I was a child, I thought my mom didn’t love me. I tried everything to make her love me. By the time I was a teen, I gave up on her love and began seeking love from other sources. Unfortunately, I thought love was tied to the words, “I love you.” If the person said the words, I didn’t require them to show me anything. It wasn’t until I was fully grown that I understood all the things my mother did for me was because she loved. She worked hard, often overtime, to make sure I had everything I needed and a few of my wants. She avoided relationships with men that she thought might have been harmful to me. She lived with her parents to make sure I had family support when she was away. She allowed me to participate in dance, gymnastics, basketball, and traveling choirs at an expense to the household budget, not to mention sending me South every year to keep me away from street gangs. She made and remade my clothes so that children couldn’t laugh at me. She took the time to style my hair, so I looked like an African princess. These were all the actions of her love, but I didn’t understand the actions when I needed it the most. How different my life choices would have been if I had only known she loved me. I needed the words to define the actions.

As an educator, I know that children need the words, “I love you,” to go along with the actions. Otherwise, when they hear the words, they may fall into the trap of manipulation and exploitation. Many parents today, like my mom, work hard to make sure their children have cell phones, video games, and the latest fashion. They take their kids to fancy restaurants, to movies, and concerts. Kids have tablets, TVs, and video consoles in their rooms and some of their parents think they are ungrateful. Children aren’t necessarily ungrateful, but they may feel entitled. The more we give, the more they want. All the things aren’t communicating love. It may communicate competition with the neighbors or family friends. It may communicate parents have money and means. It may communicate their rights as a child especially in today’s economy. It may even communicate, “we’re better than everybody else.” If we leave it up to the kids to define our actions, they may not define it correctly. Yet there are children who receive little or no commodities unaware of their true economic status; they seem to thrive on the hugs and expressions of love from their parents’ (and teachers) mouths.

As much as I don’t want anyone I know to call me by the “pet names” of my childhood, those names expressed love. My great grandparents had a different name for me than my grandparents. My aunts and uncles had their own nicknames for me too, but my mother called me by my birth certificate name, Patricia Ann. People always said they could tell when they were in trouble when their parents called them by their entire name. So, I guessed I was always in trouble with my mom. My relatives with the nicknames for me told me all kinds of stories, some made-up and others from their life experiences. We laughed a lot and hugged a lot. My mom read stories from books and insisted that learning to read was key to a good future. So, I learn to read, “See Jane run. Run, run, run Jane,” at the age of three. My great grandma let me sift the flour and stir her cake batter while using encouraging words even when I made a mess. My mom chased me out of the kitchen because I was in her way. I learned to cook from Betty Crocker’s cookbook and long distanced calls to my grandmother. Of course, I know these comparisons are skewed now, but as a child I didn’t know; I couldn’t understand that mom’s actions were expressing the same love as my other relatives only in a different way.

When I was in college my roommates and I would have this play argument. They were Math and Science majors, and I was an English major. The question was, “What came first math, science, or English?” I would always say, “English, because “In the beginning was the Word.” (John 1:1) “God didn’t create anything without speaking and He didn’t mention multiplication until the 3rd chapter.” (Haha!) We would laugh and continue this pretend argument whenever someone was too excited about something they learned in class. When a child is born the words generally come easily. We love every little finger and toe on our newborn. We tell them how much we love them and what dreams we have for them. We coo and we sing to them, but as they get older the words stop. Our actions may multiply; we may even get creative with our time and our money, but the words become assumptions. We assume they know we love them. We assume they know all that we are working for and working with is for them. We assume that everything is fine as long as no one is complaining or asking for anything, but the assumptions are wrong. This applies to spouses, elder members of our families, and especially our children. Love cannot be left to assumptions.

It’s time to play “Show and Tell.” When a child draws a picture for you, they want to tell you about it. When a child gives you a flower (even the top of a dandelion weed) they want you to know they picked it for you. When a child brings their favorite item to school for Show and Tell, the best part of this time together is for them to tell everyone all about what they brought. As a teacher, I can always tell when a parent gave the child something for Show and Tell because the child can show but they can’t tell us anything about the item. It may mean something to the parent, but it doesn’t have the same meaning for the child. So, we can’t just show, we have to tell. Tell your child why you work so much and so hard. Tell them why you bought them that toy or game. Tell them that you love them, but you’re just too tired to play. Offer to hold them or hug them just because you love them. Tell them stories from your childhood so they can identify with you on another level. Tell them the dreams you have for their future. Tell them you love them even when the answer is “No.” Take the time to show them how to do something and don’t forget to use your words. These kinds of Show and Tell events can make a lifetime of difference in their lives, in the choices they make, and in your future relationship with them. Don’t leave any room for misunderstandings. “Show and Tell.”

Photo by Agung Pandit Wiguna on Pexels.com

Don’t Just Show Them, Tell Them. Deepen your relationship with every generation. Peace.

The Far Away Place

Have you ever found your body present in a location and yet you felt far away? I don’t just mean your thoughts are far away from the position of your body, but all of you feels at a distance from everyone and everything around you. It’s almost like you are watching yourself from another dimension. That’s how I’ve been feeling lately – far, far away. Sometimes I see myself moving from project to project or room to room without making a connection with anything around me. This could be compassion fatigue. It could be a defense mechanism or perhaps it’s depression. Maybe it is simply an emotional disconnect to protect myself from the next harsh thing, but it feels like a distant place.

While I was away, I worked on writing and finishing my latest book of short stories and poetry, Talk from the Family Tree. (It’s in the editing process now.) I also worked in the classroom with my elementary school students, my GED students, and my Life Class participants. I’m not sure how much of this was ritual and habit, and how much was innovative teaching. There were days I tried to zone out at home on video games or TV shows such as holiday cooking contests. I prepared meals for the family, petted and walked my dogs, washed clothes, and read a couple of books. Still, I felt absent and far away from every task. I was moving along the continuum of my life without truly participating in my life. I missed my blog, and I missed my friends. I also missed loving routines and conversations with my family. The only thing I was truly able to focus on was crocheting. I made a lap mat for a friend’s birthday, and a loop scarf for a holiday gift. Now I’m working on a winter scarf and hat.

Crocheting forced me to concentrate on the stitches and the number of rows needed to complete the items. It takes my mind off worrisome issues like critical health issues of family members and the death of a legacy member of our community. Crocheting is a land of double crochet, single crochet, turn begin new row. Yet, I would use up a skein without realizing it and have to pull some of my work out to add a new skein. I was always shocked that the thread ran out without warning. So, I guess I wasn’t fully there either.

Perhaps these feelings of being far away was just wishful thinking on my part. Sometimes I bring up some soothing instrumental jazz on YouTube with a warm cabin scene and a picture window to watch the rain or snow fall. There would a fireplace and a cup of coffee or hot chocolate on the table along with an overstuffed chair or couch. The fireplace and window are my favorite parts. I could easily picture myself sitting there enjoying the solitude, the scenery, and the music. These times are so peaceful I can feel myself relaxing just thinking about them. They remind me that the faraway place does exist and may be only a cabin rental away.

Some people would describe this state of away-ness as melancholy. According to the Oxford Dictionary, melancholy is “a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.” While the Free Dictionary and the Merriam Webster Dictionary describes melancholy as “a gloomy state of mind, characterized by depression of spirits and dejection.” In ancient times melancholia was treated by bloodletting baths, exercise, and diet. Attempts were made to relieve the body of too much black bile. Some even theorized that melancholy came from the supernatural realm such as ghosts and demons. In that case a hole was drilled in the person’s head to release the evil spirits. Today, melancholy fits into a broad field of mental illnesses and is treated with talk therapy and/or antidepressants. While I am not a doctor, I know that research is ongoing to fine the cure and causes of major depressive disorder. Depression can stem from biological, psychological. and socio-emotional factors. No two cases are necessarily alike. Thank God we live in a time when the stigma is dying out and therapee is more readily available.

Am I depressed, or experiencing melancholy? I don’t think so. At least this does not feel like the bouts I’ve had with depression in the past. Maybe I just need a vacation from the rat race. Or perhaps I need some respite time away from being a caregiver, a teacher, or the “go-to” person. Perhaps I need to reinvent myself again. I do miss having my own business and calling my own shots. For certain, I need my Sabbath rest; being on 24/7 is not good for anyone. We’ve allowed multitasking and being connected to technology to take over our lives eliminating our time to renew, rest, and reflect. We need to give ourselves time to just “be.” I needed time to just “be.”

I am learning to allow myself to just “be.” I don’t need to over analyze my state of being, nor do I need to seek immediate changes in my lifestyle. I can simply trust my circadian rhythm to regulate the function of my mind and body. Intuitively and internally, my body and mind know when I need to rest, when I need nutrition, warmth, and natural light. Through the years I have learned how prayer and nature soothe my soul. I can rely on the Holy Scriptures to center and ground me when tests and trials challenge me. So, it’s okay to allow myself to retreat to the far away place until I’m ready to fully engage and connect to the here and now again. Afterall, I am still functioning in the present while my heart and spirit are shielded by the barrier of tranquility in a distance dimension. This is my coping mechanism nothing more, nothing less.

How do you give yourself a break from harsh realities? Do you meditate, exercise, go to a retreat center, call your parents, read poetry, cry in your bubble bath, or speed down the freeway like a race car driver leaving your troubles behind? How do you cope with unpleasant things and high demand? Do you see your therapist? Do you physically remove yourself or mentally disconnect? I would love to hear from you.

Shalom and Happy Holidays and Holy Days.

PS: Here’s a couple of titles you may enjoy reading:

Community = Common Unity

“Community” is on the lips of every local politician and every civic organization. Whether schools, churches, or mosques we all want to see stronger communities; but what do we mean by community. When we say community where are the boundaries and borders? Is it a one block radius around my house, or the whole area of the housing development? Is it the designated name of an area used by voting districts or property taxes, or is it the area used for postal services by zip code? In smaller towns is it the whole town or just the city limits? Perhaps it is time define or redefine community for everyone.

If you study the etymology of the word community you will find its origins in Latin, and Old French. In Latin it is the word “communis” meaning the same and “communitas.” meaning common, public, shared by all or many. Our English word community is an adaptation of these words from the Old French word “communaute” which refers to public spirit or commonality. Outside of the fact that I love studying the historic context of words it always interests me that most words we consider to be “American” are actually borrowed words from other languages. Needless to say, over time words seem to take on new meanings and lose their intended and original definition. So, allow me to simplify the meaning of community for this blog post as derived from this background: Community equals Common Unity,

Several weeks ago, a huge oak tree fell in my front yard. We were lucky that it fell at an angle, so it didn’t hit our home or the homes of our neighbors. It did fall across the street and left limbs and debris in our neighbors’ yards as well as blocked the entire street. A young man came over from the end house and offered to help my husband clean up the debris and cut and remove the tree. It turned out that he owned a tree cutting and removal business. Another neighbor from the cul-de-sac came with power saw in hand to help with the cleanup too. The young business owner finished the job of removing the fallen tree and proceeded to cut bad limbs on other trees in our yard. He also pruned my crepe myrtles and inspected other trees on our property. When my neighbor to my left came home there was no evidence that our tree had left limbs and leaves all over her yard. It turned out that this young businessman who was relatively new to the neighborhood has helped people all over the neighborhood. When asked what was really in it for him, he said, “This is my community it’s our job to help one another.” Imagine that. This young man saw our entire development as his community.

That fact is disaster has a tendency to draw a community together. Floods, hurricanes, fires, all these things bring families and neighbors together because they are experiencing “communitas.” Trauma, grief, upheaval, and lost is the commonality that brings everyone together. Differences are put aside. Unity of purpose is understood in terms of survival and rebuilding. This is commendable, but also temporary. I am always amazed how people come together from all over the country to help individuals in these disastrous situations. Yet, why should it take catastrophe to remind us that we are one community.

Before calamity happens, we have a common unity. Every parent wants a good education and a safe environment for their children. Every bread winner wants to make enough money to take care of their families. Renters want to become owners. Owners want to maintain their property values. Everyone wants to have nourishment and clean water to drink. All people need clothes appropriate for the weather and affordable housing. Healthcare and retirement income are all common needs amidst the aging. Everyone sheds tears at the loss of a loved one. Everyone is pursuing happiness – the so-called American dream. These are not political talking points; these are community needs. These are the things we have in common with our neighbors and others who live in our region. These are reasons for us to relate to one another and to help one another. If you really think about it, we have more in common than we have as differences. Pain, fear, hope, dreams, struggle, thriving are all part of our common experiences.

Rather than allowing politics, racism, sexism, classism, and other social economic circumstances to polarize us why can’t our commonalities unify us? We breathe the same air. We walk or drive the same streets. We have the same desires for our families. This is not rhetoric; look around our world. Here’s the reality and if we are not careful, we will create more disasters to draw us into unnatural communities. Let’s remember our common unity before things around us get worst. We should build our community to make it stronger by stepping in to help in any way that we can. Like the young businessman I mentioned above, we can use our expertise to make our communities better. Like the neighbors that came to help us, we can use our collective efforts to fix and clean up our shared space.

It’s time to unify. It’s time to be a real community. It’s time to capitalize on our common unity. PEACE!

Photo by Kaique Rocha on Pexels.com

Dream-ability!

Where do dreams come from? Are they purely an ability to imagine and propel our thoughts into different scenarios or are they produced from our subconscious desires? Are they embedded impressions stored in our brain from past experiences or conversations, or do they come from nebulous subliminal messages through the multi-media airways? Perhaps they come from another realm of existence such as angels, ancient ancestors, or the supreme divine source. I’m sure there are many explanations, but one thing is certain – people of all ages dream.

There are daydreams and dreams that come when we sleep. There are dreams (goals, plans, hopes, wishes) for a happier more prosperous future as well as dreams to change the past. There are dreams that are filled with fantasy and magic, and there are dreams that need strategic planning. There are dreaded dreams like nightmares filled with doom and gloom, and night terrors filled with danger and life-threatening disasters. Some people dream with perfect recall, while others barely remember any details at all. Dreams can be ethereal and almost impossible to capture the necessary details. Dreams can seem like an additional sense providing intuition and premonitions about the living and or the dying. Dreams seem to exist on many plains and levels of consciousness both tangible and intangible. Dreaming does not have fixed boundaries; everyone has the capacity to dream.

Doctors (MD’s and Psychologists) seem to believe vivid or intense dreams happen during REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep. (Mind you this is from my cursory reading on the subject.) They say this is when our brain is most actively engaged in the same way it is when we are awake and involved in some stimulating activity. On the other hand, daydreams happen when we allow our minds to drift and lack external stimulation, more likely when our attention is focused on feelings or imaginative thoughts – a sort of wishful thinking. In reality, information about one’s dream-ability is speculative. Doctors cannot see the dreamers’ dreams to examine them. They are dependent on the dreamer’s ability to recall and interpret the dream accurately which means even the recall and the interpretation is subject to human error. Most dreamers add commentary to explain their dreams. So, doctors look for patterns and listen to complaints when dreams cause mental anguish or peculiar behavior such as sleepwalking and insomnia. In this discussion mental illness is not our point of reference. By all means if your dreams disturb your life, see a physician. I am talking more about how we interpret the dreams that we have from time to time without trauma or external stimulation from drugs or alcohol. In other words, what do your dreams mean to you.

When I was a little girl, I remember our landlord always asking me what I dreamed. She had a dream book, and she would tell me what the dream meant according to her book. It seemed a little goofy to me, but she was quite serious about it. Eventually, my mom made her stop asking me about my dreams; she said the landlord was using my dreams to play the numbers. I had no idea what that meant until I was much older and read a book entitled Daddy was a Number Runner by Louise Meriweather. Not only did I have very vivid dreams when I slept, but I could stare out the window and dream an entire episode of travel and adventure. At any rate, I stopped telling anyone my dreams except my journal.

As I got older, I dreamed about my ancestors. In my dreams they seem to have messages for me. Sometimes they were people I had actually known, and other times they were people who had died before I was born. I shared these dreams with my grandmother who would try to figure out who the people in my dreams were. One person, my grandfather’s mother would appear in my dreams often. I felt like she came to protect me from danger. One time I described her hat to my grandmother, and it seemed to spook her. My grandmother pulled a big hat box from the top of her closet and showed me the hat I had described to her. It was a gift from her mother-in-law given to her before I was born. After that my grandmother believed me when I told her dreams about my great-grandmother, her mother-in-law who died when I was two years old. As I grew older, I learned not to share my dreams with adults because of their strange reactions to them, and sometimes to me as well. Apparently, a vivid imagination was not good for a young girl and foreknowledge, or foresight was too eerie or mysterious.

To this day, I keep a dream journal. Some dreams I chalk up to too much cabbage and cornbread or horror movies. (There is a theory that when you eat too much it can give you crazy dreams like watching too many scary movies.) Sometimes I wait to see if the dream is repetitive. At other times I try to decipher a message from them. Either way, I don’t dwell on them, because they are what they are – just dreams – until they prove otherwise. I don’t dream all the time, at least not that I can remember or recall, but on the occasion that I do I jot down what I can remember without commentary. If it leaves a particular impression, I write that down as well. I have learned to use discretion in sharing my dreams; however, I do have some friends and family members who have similar experiences with dreaming. I am certain that some of my creativity comes from my dream-ability. Writing stories can be like an awake dream of characters, places, and scenes. It’s like a preternatural gift that allows me to see more and feel more in addition to my five senses.

Whether dreams are a series of images produced by the brain unintentionally, or a self-indulging product of our own desires and thoughts, dreams can be useful tools for creativity and healthy imagination. I venture to say that all art forms: music, poetry, prose, lyrics, graphics, design, dance, etc. comes from one’s ability to see something outside the range of normal vision. Inspiration and even aspiration can come from a lingering daydream. Worlds can exist outside of our normal range of reality because of a person’s dream-ability. Foresight, insight, perspective, and stimulation can arise from one’s ability to dream. Whatever you attribute dream-ability to it sets us apart from the animal kingdom. We are able to hope, to set goals, to implement wishes, and accomplish bucket lists because we can dream. We follow intuition and premonitions based on our ability to imagine outcomes in our mind’s eye, a form of dreaming. The visual aspect of our dream-ability helps us create the faith we need to open and close doors in our daily life’s journey. How you interpret your dreams makes all the difference. Are they possibilities or impossibilities? Are they precursors to invention or forewarnings for potential failings? Are they comical reliefs for a stressful existence or serious roadmaps for a thriving future? How do you use your dream-ability?

Dreams may demand interpretation, but the interpretation starts with you. Take a little time to dream!.