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Learning from Tragedy

Have you ever been stopped in your tracks?  Stopped frozen in your tracks?  You’re moving along, day to day, in your predictable life and suddenly you hear or see something that rocks you so deeply and feels so shocking, that you actually put your hand on your heart because it feels like it might pound right out of your chest. 

Last night, after an uneventful and predictable routine, I put the kids to bed and turned on the tube in my bedroom.  Comfortable in my sweatpants, I sat in front of the laptop on my bed and clicked on Facebook, much like I do every other night after the house begins to wind down.  Expecting to see much of the same… links to interesting articles, updates from friends, funny or inspiring quotes, pictures from friends afar, and sometimes messages sent privately.  Upon my first click, I began to read, and my heart skipped a beat, maybe two beats.  Surely I was misunderstanding something.  This Facebook friend (who happens to be a classmate from high school) had passed away.  My mind, my gut, and my heart set out quickly and frantically to absorb and integrate their varying voices in an attempt to piece together what may have happened.  My gut spoke the loudest and came forward as the leader.  “Something terrible happened.  She was so depressed.  She posted daily about her pain and her inner struggles, day to day, through life.”  My mind chimed in, “Yes, but she also had physical health issues and perhaps the doctors just couldn’t help her.”  My gut won this fight and was later confirmed by the note she left on Facebook the night before she passed away.  She was saying goodbye to this world as she knew it and asking that God take her soul for a long and peaceful rest.  She thanked her friends in this post and let them know that she appreciated their support.

This is the moment that was frozen in time, where I stopped in my tracks, my bones shook, and somehow everything changed.  I learned a lesson, in an instant, more quickly than any other lesson I can remember.  I reflected on my own reactions to her outcries for help and support.  I looked back to see when I reached out to her and found a message I sent to her on November 30^th that was never met with any reply.  I remembered an update she posted in December that evoked enough fear and worry in me, I responded with some supportive and caring words.  She later deleted the entire update after she saw the fear and anxiety it produced in her friends, and posted an apology.  I never had a close relationship with her.  I have not seen or spoken with her since 1993.  I had a couple of classes with her but never saw her or spoke with her outside of school either.  None of these factors, these thoughts, these reflections changed the fact that a young woman had taken her own life.  Perhaps it was the posts she made, day after day, either attempting to brighten her own day or attempting to reach out for help.  All of it, the minimal number of times I tried to reach out to her, the desperation in her outcries, the sadness I feel for her family and close friends, all of it completely jolted me, rocked me.

A young life taken too soon, a group of family and friends left to feel the guilt and horror of experiencing a suicide.  Taken with all the weight that it bears, it seems too much to carry.  What are we left with, as onlookers?  What are her family and friends left with?  What was the lesson for me, the lesson that zapped me like a lightning bolt? 

In the last 18 hours, this is what I’ve gleaned.  When she passed from this human experience, a part of me passed along with her.  Instead of disappearing, though, the part that passed along with her, the assumptions and judgments, evolved into something more compassionate, more aware, and more connected to all humans.  I didn’t know her and I had no idea what might be going on in her life that led her to the desperation she felt.  What I do know, though, is that sadness was oozing from her being on a daily basis.  What could I have done to reach out, maybe even just one extra time?  I’m not implying it would have changed the outcome at all, but perhaps it might have given a tiny sliver of light, however dull it may have been, even if for only 15 seconds, during a time where she felt deeply depressed. 

I will continue to reflect on the ways that I can share my light with people.  The effort, however small it may be, could bring a smile to someone’s face, light a glimmer of hope in someone’s heart, or just convey a message that their life is important. 

We are like an ocean.  When one part of the ocean changes, it inadvertently affects every organism in the system.     The tide in our ocean changed on Saturday night when she made a choice to stop fighting those powerful demons.  Through the grief that her family and friends are experiencing, let us send out love and light, and encourage people to look outside themselves to nurture the WHOLE.   

Intentions for 2012

Each year around New Year's, there is a load of talk about resolutions and fresh starts.  I think there was one year, back in '84 or so, that I resolved to stop biting my fingernails.  To date, I think it is the only resolution that has been 100% successful (I'm sure you'd be grossed out and then relieved to also know that I even stopped biting my toenails that year).  I have always assumed that resolutions are an attempt to fix a problem, to find a solution to some maladaptive way of life. 

This year, I've decided that I'm not willing to set myself up for failure.  Instead, I developed some intentions for 2012 that will help me continue to grow as a person, and to be a source of positive growth for the evolutionary path of living things.  One of the things that I like about the idea of intentions is that it eliminates an 'all or nothing' assumption and softens goals to make them reachable by taking steps in a direction of growth, personally and globally.

What are my intentions?  In a nutshell, my goal is to reach a higher level of mindfulness.  How are my actions each moment, each day, each week, and each year affecting the world around me?  Am I making conscious choices that promote growth and love, or am I, at times, sending out negativity that leads to sabotage (for myself or others)?  Over the last year I have become keenly aware that my own thoughts have a profound impact on my environment and the people in it.  Am I questioning automatic thought patterns that reflect negativity?  Do I model behaviors that reflect the kind of people that I want my children to become?  What am I doing to make this world a better place to live?  

Sometimes I wonder if I conveniently 'forget' that my actions are always affecting something, somewhere else outside of myself and really it becomes an issue of paying more attention to the greater good of the whole and less attention to my own ego.

My word for 2012:  Mindful

How will I know that I am steering in the direction of these intentions?
At the end of each day, I will write down something that I intentionally did to reach for mindfulness.  It maybe one simple sentence, a couple of sentences, or a story about the transformation of my thoughts and actions along with the subsequent effect on myself and those around me.  As simple as an intentional interruption in my thought patterns to see a situation from another point of view, or a constructive critical view of my ego's desires and impulsive nature.

My 'Mindful Journal' is ready for its first entry, a copy of this blog post as a reminder of its birth.

May your reflections on the new beginnings of 2012 lead you to wonderful places!

A Titch of Writing

My aspirations to write have led to a whole lot of 'thinking' about writing and a complete absence of actual time spent with pen to paper.  As I read novels to my class, I am constantly dissecting the structure and layout of the text in an effort to understand how the 'engine' of the story actually works.  My favorite part of a book comes on the first page.  What did the author do in order to hook me as a reader.  What was on sale during this first page that makes me want to return to its pages over and over again?

Tonight I decided to spend 20 minutes trying to write an opening of a story that I might, as a reader, want to come back and continue to read.  I honestly haven't thought about what might happen following this first page, so it is not necessarily a story in progress but is instead, an exercise for me to see how the writing flows.  Where do I get stuck?  What does my mind want to do in terms of vocabulary and structure?  Where in the HELL do these thoughts come from?  I'm trying to pay attention to a lot of things at the same time.  Like any skill, writing takes practice.  This is the first formal assignment that I gave myself and here is the result.  My hope is that I can look back on this in a month, six months, or a year from now and find things that I would change because of the hours I will surely spend practicing and learning the trade. 

Page 1 of an unknown and unwritten book...

When they uncovered the floor tiles, one by one, they discovered a vast mass of nothingness underneath, devoid of color or shine, depth or contrast, a complete absence of all things that are describable.  A deep feeling of longing saturated their bodies, a strong magnetic pull. Involuntarily, their bodies took several steps forward until they reached that pivotal line where floor meets eternity and then the girls stepped off and began drifting down at a slow and graceful pace.  They glided past a whole lot of emptiness and neither saw nor heard any signs of life as they descended further and further into what felt like it could be inside the earth.  Sima reached out her hand to Roe in an effort to feel a bit grounded and also to touch something familiar..

“How far have we fallen, um, glided?” Roe asked.

“I can’t tell.  Maybe three stories, maybe fifty.  Where are we?” replied Sima.

“Are you scared?  I mean, is this real?  This can’t be real, right?”

Their hearts pounded louder and louder like the beat of rhythmic drums as they began to realize that, although they had no idea how or why, their lives may never be the same again.

“I think something must have happened at our tree.  Did we do something?  Are we dreaming?  Those birds.  They did something to us.  I don’t know how or what they did but they did something,” Sima mumbled in a confused and soft whisper.

Silence crept over them as they continued to descend further and further into the nothingness that was their surrounding.  Thoughts rushed through each of their minds and those, although inaudible to each other, were the only voices they heard.

There Is No Separation Between Ants and Elephants…

I've longed to see what it was like to have a couple of hours off work while the kids were at school. Take a stab at this whole writing thing and delight in the feeling of coming alive. My car drove the kids to school and I, then, immediately thought about a place I hadn’t been since I was a little girl. This is a place where I would come with my dad on Saturday mornings, on the Saturday mornings when he decided not have Winchell’s donuts waiting for us when we awoke. This is a place that has a distinctly delicious coffee smell and a croissant that has no competition. It IS the essence of all croissants. I remember, just like watching him eat the potato chips that curl on top of themselves, the look of love on my dad’s face when he pulled the doughy center out and let it melt away in his mouth. Pure bliss and joy is what I saw and is the face that floats in my memory.

I sit here and relish in the view out the second story window as I watch cars pass by, knowing that my dad is sitting right across from me. He is leaning back in his chair, sipping his coffee and eyeing the book that I brought with me, Writing Down the Bones, by Natalie Goldberg. He gave me a copy of this book almost twenty years ago and told me that he thought it was a staple for any aspiring writer. I crunched through the first bites of my croissant and began to read. Right when I got to that chewy center, I saw the words, ‘There is no separation between ants and elephants. All boundaries disappear.” In this way, today, this morning, right now, he is speaking to me. “There is no boundary between life and death,” is what he is saying.

I sit here with my dad and eat our favorite croissant and sip on the coffee that kept him coming back weekend after weekend over two decades ago. These walls are talking and they are telling me that this is my time. Despite the passage of time and the wrinkles I see on my face in the reflection of my computer screen, this is the right time, the perfect time. Let the writing begin!

“Cheers to that!” he bellows emphatically, and suddenly I see him drinking a glass of wine.

The Shift in ME

A dream, a pipe dream of sorts, has always been to write and publish children's books. It seems that life has always gotten in the way and there have always been a list of excuses and reasons that keep me from pursuing this dream. As I find more time for instropection and begin walking this journey to fulfill my soul's purpose, a nagging nudge continues to strengthen. Only as my awareness has deepened, have I been able to see things a bit more clearly. I am the author of my life and I am the only one who can make it happen for me. The inspiration to begin writing a blog and jump in with two feet on a new journey of writing absolutely slapped me in the face following a conversation with a friend about focus. We sent 'focus energy', cycled it, and recycled it back and forth... and here I am! So, what have I been afraid of, what has been keeping me from writing down the bones? The permanence of words on a page, the exposure, and the risk to my ego. I'm letting it go, the fear, the nasty voice in my head that says 'you can't do it'. Inspiration is born of inspiration and when I am on my deathbed, I won't have to wonder what would have happened if I had given it a GO. The only way to succeed is to try and the surest way to fail is to avoid taking the risk. Here I am , a part of the world, I WILL take the risk of living!