Love Is Eternal

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Tuesdays with Morrie is a book, then movie, about a disillusioned young man who visits his former professor, Morrie, every Tuesday and observes his gradual decline from ALS. In his wisdom, Morrie teaches his embittered protege about life, love, forgiveness. A line in the movie stands out in my mind. The student screams at his teacher, “All right! I love you. But what good does it do? You’re just going to die!!”

Morrie replied, “You’re right. I am going to die. But after I die, you will still love me.”

As I make my way through the grief of my husband’s death, I am so full of love for him that it is carrying me through his loss. I know his love for me and my love for him will always be with us. It is enough.

You write or draw it: Have you experienced love that is more powerful than grief?

Gratitude Is Stronger Than Grief

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On Thursday, October 6, my husband Harlan died after suffering an aneurism. Unexpected and sudden. My heart was broken.

I’ve reeled through the days of receiving fellow mourners and their bountiful gifts, of planning his memorial service and spreading his ashes, of all the activity of being with our family. Yesterday was my first day alone.

I decided to start the day with gratitude. Gratitude for toothpaste, for my dog Colt, for my bed, for food, for a beautiful day, for friends, for trees—well, you get the picture. I kept naming what I’m grateful for throughout the day. At the end of the day, as I was sitting on my terrace having a cup of tea, a rainbow subtly appeared over my right shoulder. It turned out to be a precursor. Within the next few minutes, the most splendid rainbow I’ve ever seen appeared right in front of me!

What I learned yesterday is that gratitude is stronger than grief.

Right Here Right Now

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Like so many other people, I was up in the very early morning to watch the Queen’s funeral. After a couple of hours of it, I felt as if I lived in that world of majesty and splendor..

Fortunately, it was my morning to lead meditation at Village Yoga, and as I did so, I felt my authentic energy coming back into my body. By the end of the meditation, the clear message to me was, “Right here. Right now.”

We are so prone, aren’t we, to spin off into someone else’s world? I’m grateful today to be right here. Right now.

You write it: Do you ever find yourself living in someone else’s world? What do you do?

Goodbye

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My neighbor has moved away to a distant city where her husband can get better medical care. I have been so very sad.

She and I connected during the pandemic when she bought groceries for me. I returned the favor. One afternoon when Harlan and I were unexpectedly delayed, she came into our home to feed our dog, Colt. She was that kind of neighbor. Generous and trusting and trustworthy.

She gave me pomegranates from her tree, and together we planted wildflower seeds in the cul-de-sac we shared. I miss her presence already.

This morning in meditation, the word “goodbye” came to my mind. But this time it was different. Instead of being “goodBYE,” the emphasis changed to “GOODbye.” I focused on the good and realized the relationship is complete. Her time here in the Village at the end of the cul-de-sac is complete. With this realization, I am able to release and let go.

You write or draw it: Is there anything you need to let go?

Circle

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Over the years, when it comes to setting boundaries, I have used the circle. Inside the circle I write what I want in a relationship or experience. Outside the circle, I write what I do not want. Eventually, I cut that part away.

The circle tool works for relationships, for meetings, for projects, for everything I need to accomplish. It also works for life in general. It answers the question, “What is the life experience I want?” It’s a discipline for me, not anyone else.

Sometimes I draw a circle for an event. When the event is over, I discard the circle. And sometimes I draw a circle for a life experience I want to change. Then I might carry the circle with me, in my wallet, and look at it from time to time, until it has come to fruition.

You write or draw it: Think of a concern. Draw a circle. Inside the circle, write what you want to experience. Outside, write what you do not want. Keep it with you or put it in a box.

Equanimity

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“What other people think of me is none of my business” is a slogan I learned in Al-Anon, the 12-step recovery program for families and friends of alcoholics that I have worked for 22 years.

Recently a friend texted me an apology for offending me. I had no idea what she was talking about. Maybe she intended some offense?

When we finally spoke, I simply said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t give anyone that kind of power over me.”

I spoke the truth, and I thank God for Al-Anon.

You write or draw it: How free are you from what other people think?

An Image of Joy

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This morning’s meditation focused on joy. After I read a story about joy from Simple Serenity, I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, for a 15-minute silent meditation. An image immediately popped into my mind of a bubble light, the kind you put on a Christmas tree. Then I saw a Christmas tree full of bubble lights. Finally, a single light entered my chest at my sternum.

You write or draw it: What is your image for joy today?

Meditation

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“Meditation is a practice in which an individual uses a technique—such as mindfulness, or focusing the mind on a particular object, thought, or activity—to train attention and awareness and achieve a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state.” (Wikipedia)

Every Monday morning at 8:00 I lead a meditation at Village Yoga in the Village of Oak Creek for members of Village Yoga and drop-ins, both local and tourists.

My technique is simple: We begin by getting in touch with our hearts and meditating on the energy of the heart. Then I read one of the passages from my newest book, Simple Serenity. Today we focus on the word “savor,” giving attention to the positive aspects of an experience—any experience.

Wherever you are, will you join us in spirit today to savor?

Write a letter

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By the substance and demeanor of the January 6 committee, my heart has been lifted. To hear, under oath, people speak the truth has fed my hungry soul. My gratitude led me to write a letter to each committee member and send it through the U.S. Mail. Old-fashioned, maybe, but very satisfying.

When I discussed my action with a friend, our conversation veered to the staffers who are doing the deep work of this committee, namelessly and tirelessly serving. I went right home and wrote a letter to the collective staff. Here’s an excerpt from that letter: “I’m writing to thank you for the essential work you are doing to promote truth, integrity, and restoration of American values and respect for law. You may be invisible, but you are mighty.”

Consider something happening in the news cycle that you are grateful for. Next step, write a letter or email or text to say, “Thank you” and thus break the cycle of complaining about what you don’t like while, more importantly, reinforcing what you like.

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Viktor Frankl, noted psychiatrist and survivor of a Nazi prison camp, wrote this: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

For me, the Al-Anon program has been a powerful teacher of this truth. The Twelve Steps, slogans, and success stories over the last 22 years have enabled me to live a life of serenity today.

Often, women ask me to be their “sponsor”; that is, teach them what I’ve learned so that they, too, may find serenity. Some of them do the hard work and reap the reward of a happy life. Others simply don’t make the effort. They want life to be what they want it to be, and they want it to be easy.

You write or draw it: What efforts have you made to live the life you truly want?

Breaking an Addiction

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Sometimes described as “sort of like chess,” Othello is a game of strategy that I have been playing compulsively—then obsessively—then addictively—on my phone. In any lull, I reached for my phone and got in a quick game. I rationalized that I wasn’t hurting anyone, so it was okay.

Then one afternoon, evening, and into the night, piercing pain in my hand from repetitive motion let me know who I was hurting. Me. Some CBD cream finally eased the pain.

Othello is in my past. Now that I’m free to live more fully in the moment, if I need a diversion, I read a book or work a wooden puzzle or weed the flower garden or play fetch with Colt. The possibilities are endless, and all is well.

You write or draw it: Do you have any addictive habits? Tell the story.

Kindness Beyond Generosity

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A neighbor brought Harlan and me a homemade quiche. We were near the end of our bouts with Covid and at the beginning of aftermath isolation.

We love quiche, and I hardly ever make it because it requires so much effort, so when our neighbor called to say she had quiche for us, I could hardly believe it.

Even the crust was homemade.

We savored every bite.

Our hearts lifted and floated in gratitude for this amazing act of kindness.

You write or draw it: When have you experienced kindness that goes beyond generosity? What effect did it have on you?

Precious Moments

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I just returned from three days of precious moments with family, gathered for my sister’s memorial service. As she was dying, my sister planned every detail of the service and reception, so in my mind and heart it was clean and pure. Through her pain, she left us with the experience of peace and everlasting love.

My children are happy, healthy, successful, and fun to be with. What more could a mother want?

Now, from the family I was born into, there’s only my brother and me. We love and want the best for each other.

Precious simple serenity with family. I know not everyone has it, and I’m grateful.

You write or draw it: What is your experience with your closest family? What do you want it to be?