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Category: Kindness

Posted
August 31, 2016
Category
Cancer, Fear, Grief, Growth, Happiness, harmony, Kindness, Pediatric Brain Cancer, Positivity, Wellness
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Sunflower Shadows

Writing about wellness and kindness does not mean I can’t be ill-tempered or ill-humored, or even just-plain-sick. Oh, I be illin’ sometimes;)

But I prefer to feel good.

So, I choose to assess my situation, and make a mental list of the reasons I’m lucky to be alive. I start with what I love most and end with the basics like clean water (denied to many) and shelter.

Finding sunshine in the shadows begins with a desire to seek it, and being honest about our preference can take a lot of the pressure off. Sometimes the stillness and solitude of the dark is where we want to be.

After all, the real world can’t promise endless happy days. Sadness comes. What life can promise us is that when we are ready to feel the sun again, we can always find it by looking to the bright side. It’s as basic and cliché as that.

Helen Keller beautifully brought it back to nature.

“Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows. It’s what the sunflowers do.”

I realize being a grateful human is trickier than being a healthy flower. But if we think like a sunflower, our choice is easy; we go sunshine.

Peace and light…

Posted
August 29, 2016
Category
Cancer, Fear, Grief, Happiness, harmony, Kindness, Pediatric Brain Cancer, Positivity
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At a Loss


Words cannot touch grief.

I have lost people I love dearly, but experiencing loss does not give me any special insight. All I can bring today is what I know. I know my own story. I know several families with critically ill kids, and I see them. I am them.

But then, there is loss.

What can we do when yet another family transitions from fighting to mourning? Condolences can ring hollow – especially when directed at a newly grieving family. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t speak. There is already enough silence in death, and we shouldn’t add to that chasm just because we can’t find the words.

We must get over the fact that we might not say the right thing; there simply is no blanket statement or correct sentiment to ease unimaginable grief. But we can do something. Send a card. Make eye contact. Make a casserole. Make a comforting noise. Make an effort to share our light and our self and our time.

Even more importantly, we must continue extending that light in the years to come. Life goes on for the observer, but for the observed, a dynamic part of the world is forever stopped.

Being afraid of death or confused by the “why’s” should not take away our ability to offer something of ourselves to those in mourning. From my perspective, I see three kind approaches: be there, be patient, and be genuine.  If we reach out with thoughtful concern, most of what we do or say will have merit.

We can’t expect to fill the void, but we can put a part of ourselves near the memory that lives on. Where there is nothing we can put something.

Our attempt may seem insignificant, but any thoughtful act can find a place inside the hollow of grief. That is the only way I know of to keep surviving loved ones from trying to exist on empty.


Peace.

Posted
August 24, 2016
Category
Cancer, Charles M. Schulz, Growth, Guided Imagery, Happiness, harmony, Kindness, Pediatric Brain Cancer, Positivity, Snoopy, Stress Reduction, Wellness
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Puppy Imagery

Guided imagery focuses and directs the imagination in proactive, positive ways. It can be just as simple as an athlete’s 10-second reverie, just before leaping off the diving board, imagining how a perfect dive feels when slicing through the water. Or it can be as complex as imagining the busy, focused buzz of thousands of loyal immune cells, scooting out of the thymus gland on a search and destroy mission to wipe out unsuspecting cancer cells. –Belleruth Naparstek

Some may simply call it “visualization,” but it goes beyond pictures in our head. Most of us have probably experimented on some level with its effectiveness on our own creativity, performance or anxiety.

More recently, research findings have demonstrated its positive impact on blood pressure, short-term immune cell activity, headaches, anxiety, nausea and fatigue- some of the all too common struggles faced during cancer treatment. Most find benefit by as little as 10 minutes of guided practice.

Guided imagery is considered a form of meditation, but requires minimal time and skill. This gentle yet effective technique can be tailored to the “genius of each person’s unique imagination” (Naparstek 1994).

Abram used his own personalized guided imagery on me last night. He was finishing his bath, and I was rushing around getting his towel and clothes ready.

For some reason, I was bent on finding “the” towel I had washed earlier that day. I’m not sure if I was tired, or if the towel actually has magically superior fibers, but when I found it crumpled and damp near the dirty-clothes basket, my shoulders tensed and I let out an exaggerated exhale through my nose. As I walked back to the linen closet, I felt I had to “settle” for a smaller, less plush towel. How ridiculous is that?

With bubbles on his semi-bald head, Abraham busted me out for acting rammy and flustered. He stopped me and ended my ridiculous huff by saying,

“Close your eyes.”

So, of course, I did.

From the tub, he instructs me, “Think about a super-soft kitten that doesn’t scratch curled by your neck, purring. It is all gray with one white paw and a bright pink nose. And there’s puppies in your lap.”

“What color should the puppies be, Mom?”

“All different shades of black and brown,” I replied. And then I added, “with floppy ears and that sweet puppy-paw scent.”

I didn’t peek, but I could tell he was pleased with my reply.

He continued to create my happy picture with images of Woodstock and Tweety Bird perched on my head.

“Do that for ten seconds or so.”

And, I did.

My young wiseman concluded our session with, “Use those thoughts when you’re stressed out, Mom, like with taxes.”

🙂

And just like that, I shifted my mood and my energy from frenetic and forward to calm and current. I had helped Abram use this meditative practice in the hospital before, but this was the first time he’d guided me to peace through a soothing “imaginary pet massage” (as he likes to call it).

I try to live in the now, but at certain times, I lose myself and spiral into a frenzy. When my mind calms and I realize that the moment I am in is the only one I am guaranteed, I regain my perspective. And luckily, when I forget to check myself, I have a Zen child who reels me back in.

Any of us can overreact or feel disappointed, but with a shot of awareness and a measure of practice, it’s possible to find peace at the same time.

Our bodies cannot escape the busy necessities of the world, but the quiet of our mind is ours to protect. No one, nor act, nor task should guide our thoughts without our permission. And when the noise creeps back in, there is always guided puppy (or kitty or birdy) imagery to quiet our thoughts and soothe our soul.

Peace and happiness…

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