Wabi Sabi Magic

Wabi Sabi Magic

What's "Wabi Sabi Magic"?

It's the magic that happens -- when we allow it -- from the imperfect events in life. 

Also known as "Beautiful Oops!" (Which is, not-so-coincidentally the name of a book.)

Or "Making lemonade from lemons" has a similar flavor. (Sorry, couldn't resist the pun!)

So the past 24 hours has been a series of wabi sabi magic events. And I want to be sure to note the process.

Truth be told, the past week or so could be included, but I'll focus on this past day because it's rich enough with those golden lessons that come from hardship.

It started with a phone conversation yesterday evening with a friend from college. We'd actually worked together at a summer camp, then solidified life-long friendships as a group of us became our own tribe in the years that followed. A sort-of gathering of soul-resonating misfits. 

The conversation last night was brief and filled with a very quick catch-up in life events, including news that a member of the tribe had recently died (RIP, Bob!), followed by a little reminiscing. I haven't kept up the individuals of our group except through my friend who'd called, so I'm grateful for his ability and desire to stay connected. 

(I grew up in a military family, so staying in touch with many people isn't my strength. That experience gave me the ability to connect with a variety of people, though. It also taught me to recognize like-souled individuals and forge friendships with them to assuage the deep loneliness I felt from having no roots.)

I need to say that I adore this friend who called. He has been an oxygen mask -- breaths of fresh air -- when my life has seemed to be taking a nose-dive. We haven't typically had particularly deep conversations but it's always been FUN to talk with him. I've admired his lack of "filter" at times because he says exactly what he's thinking. There's no trying to figure things out or guessing and I appreciate that in him.

So, last night, as we were talking, he was picking up kids as our conversation was continuing. And I took a leap -- for me -- to tell him of a plan I've been hatching in the past few weeks. 

In about a year from now, I'll be walking the Camino in Spain.

First I need to explain what "walking the Camino" means. The segment I'm planning to walk is  a 500+ mile pilgrimage that starts just inside France, on the border of France and Spain in the Pyrenees mountains. For most, the trail starts in the small French town called St. Jean and ends in the city of Santiago. For some, the journey ends another 100 miles on the Spanish coast at Fisterra. Most people take 4-6 weeks to walk the trail. The average distance each day is 15-18 miles -- a little more than a 1/2-marathon each day for 30 or more days! 

That's what I'll be doing in the Spring of 2016 and I've been preparing for it daily since early March by reading about it on the internet, from a guide book as well as from a personal story written by Elizabeth Sheehan, The Trail: A True Tale of the Camino. 

Last year, my interest was sparked when I saw the movie with Martin Sheen, The Way. The spark ignited this past January, after watching the documentary, Walking the Camino. 

What I know for sure is this: a journey of this kind -- a pilgrimage -- begins when the idea becomes clear, when the spark ignites. The journey begins to call to you and it's as important to pay attention to what happens BEFORE you go as much as you would WHILE you're there AND when you return. 

I'm paying attention, which is why I'm writing this now about something that some might believe to be trivial.

Back to the conversation last night...

When I told my friend that I was planning to walk the Camino and after I'd explained it to him, he was enthusiastic, but ended his excited support with, "You know you'll have to get off your fat ass!" To which I replied, "Really? You DO know I've completed 5 1/2-Marathons, right?" 

He didn't know. And because his car was filling with kids our conversation ended there.

Except I couldn't stop thinking about the exchange. 

I thought I'd get an apology after my 1/2-marathon comment, but nope.

It was such a trigger for a flood of family memories. 

You know, the unpleasant kind. 

The ones I've worked most of my life to undo but occasionally are reactivated unexpectedly. Of course there are so many layers to shift through, too. 

Normally, a comment like the one my friend made would have swamped me and knocked me down -- it had already been a rough week. When the thoughts of, "You're so sensitive," crept in along with the shame of how I have felt about this body, I knew I was in trouble.

This is me from a few weeks ago... I'm always aware of my size when I see pictures of myself!

And instead of drowning in the emotions, I decided I'd do something completely different for me. 

A couple hours after the conversation, I posted this on Facebook:
What do you think, FB friends:
Is it worse for a stranger or a friend to say, "You'll have to get off your fat ass"?
Do you think that's just being insensitive or unwittingly and simply insulting?
Comments?

I really wasn't sure what would happen. I was hoping for a shift in perspective. 

What I got was extraordinary words of encouragement. The first from a former student:
To hear it from a friend is hurtful because one should expect love and support from friends and family. However, to hear it from a stranger hurts just as much because it makes one question how a stranger might see them; is this what the outside world perceives me to be. Neither is worse. It is equally insulting, just in a different way depending on who it comes from. I can't imagine uttering those words. In the end, it is more a reflection of the insulter's insecurities and anger, than the beauty of the recipient of the insult.

THANK YOU!

And this one came:
No matter who says it the comment is crude and cruel. If a friend said it I would suspect some unspoken resentment. I'd probably think a stranger had some mental disorder going on!

Then this comment:
It's prejudicial coming from a stranger. I agree, it is hidden resentment from a friend. I'd be more curious about the friend's comment than the stranger's. Context is important with the friend: not the stranger. It could come out of frustration from the friend even if poorly delivered.

THANK YOU for that!

And these, each from a different voice; I felt the outpouring of kindness:

• Rude either way.
• Wow...
• Totally, totally insulting! Shame on them!
• When a friendship is damaged it is doubly hurtful.
• Worse from a friend because a friend should find supportive ways to motivate and uplift. However from a friend or a stranger, this comment serves no one.
• Sounds like their own projection of something that was triggered in them... Either way... They need life coaching!
• Rude, crude and insensitive no matter who says it....
• I would not want either in my life

THANK YOU ALL!

The upshot? 

One friend called me to find out if I was ok. (THANK YOU!) It turns out SHE has also heard the call of the Camino and we've committed to become walking buddies toward that goal.

That's Wabi Sabi Magic, by the way.

And...

I remembered that harsh words are such a reflection of the person speaking them. 

I remembered that my body is strong and that there are so many things I've been able to do in spite of its size.

I remembered that I don't have to handle it -- anything! -- alone.

Oh, yeah...

My friend recognized himself in the FB post and called this morning (early!) with a sincere and repeated apology. We talked about how hurtful his words were and how important our friendship is.

And some of the lessons for the journey? More Wabi Sabi Magic...

1. In any event or situation lies the possibility of crippling inner chatter or supportive positive self-talk. Even though it might be challenging to harness the inner critic, there's value in pausing to notice what it's saying, then sifting through what's needed.

2. We are ALL, yes every one of us, imperfect. If we honor the imperfections and seek to understand the cracks and chips we each bring, we can learn from each other. 

3. True friendships can withstand the pain of stepping on each others' toes if we figure out how to learn from them.

4. Reach out for help when it gets rough. Support from others is invaluable!

5. When in doubt, do something different -- anything -- that might shift the inner landscape and patterns. 

How's THAT for Wabi Sabi Magic?

Suzan

$1 Tickets to the Million Bulb Walk

The Norfolk Botanical Gardens has an annual, one-evening-only opportunity (tonight) to walk their Holiday Light Show, the "Million Bulb Walk". Tickets for the general public are $10 ($8 if you're already a member of the Gardens.

Merry Mary is a member and invited me to go. With her in the driver's seat, the trip from home to Norfolk was quick. We didn't expect to ride snail-paced to the entrance to purchase our tickets. It took 45 or so minutes from the time we joined the line to when we rolled by the ticket hut -- that included two lines of cars!

Our miracle happened about 5 minutes before we were going to shell out $10 and $8. In the parallel line, a woman driving an SUV motioned for me to roll down the window. She waived two tickets and said she had them for $1 each, having purchased them from her company, one of the sponsors. I'm pretty sure the car was still in motion when I jumped out to snag the tickets while Mary dug for dollar bills.

Ah-mazing!

And an equally ah-mazing mile-long walk through lights representing the seasons...

Magic AND a miracle all in one evening...

And this year is only just getting started!
Suzan

A Life Well Lived

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

A Life Well Lived

My dear four-legged friend, Max, the Beagle, transitioned at about 9:10 this morning.

In the past year or so, with each health issue or injury, I've wondered, "Is this it?"

I didn't see this coming though. About a week ago, I returned from a trip. He was limping a little but still able to get around. Still eager to go for a walk, for a treat, for the next morsel of food.

On Sunday, still normal. We walked the neighborhood before I went to speak at a church service. Back at home, my pack and I rest together before I leave again for an appointment. In retrospect I noticed Max needed help with getting up on the couch and when I returned from my appointment, he laid on a dog bed instead of jumping up on the couch.

His appetite has been off for months. Since November Max has been taking thyroid medication which sent him into a second puppyhood, giving me relief and him a newer, softer coat. But where before his thyroid issues he would eat nearly everything I would give him (except peanut butter -- he never did like that!), he became a picky eater.

Renal issues accompanied the thyroid problems so he was supposed to (not "supposed") to eat a reduced protein diet. Not a chance of that, though. The choice between not eating and eating high protein was pretty easy. Each time he would sniff at even that recently, I would wonder...

On Monday morning, I get up as usual, walk down the back hallway, let Max and Emma outside. Shadow also runs down the hallway then waits at the door for his buddies to burst in and run him over as they all, heard-like, merge in the kitchen for a meal or a treat. Monday morning, I take Max and Emma of them for a short walk. It is clear that Max's hind legs aren't working the way they're supposed to. Once inside, he eats very little of the chicken and rice mix he's been getting on top of the dog food.

I'd planned to finally return to my yoga class after over a week's absence and waffled about going versus calling the vet. Max didn't seem to be in pain, but I call the vet's office to try to get a walk-in appointment. It is after 8:30am when I put Max in the car for a less-than 10 min. trip to the office.

Max whimpers and shakes while we wait nearly 2 hours to see the vet. The last time we'd been there was after Emma had taken a chunk out of his neck while I had left for a few hours in early January -- he had a staple to close the wound, so I can't imagine that was a pleasant experience for him. I'm sure he remembered.

Not finding a misplaced disc -- Beagles are prone to this -- the vet  (Dr. C) lets me know that Max probably had degenerative disc disease. Although he didn't seem to be in pain, the vet prescribes a pain medication to help ease any discomfort. I'm not really clear what we talk about, but I know I ask her about what to do. She recommends monitoring Max and bringing him back in a few days. She gives me a hug before I leave. (Which, of COURSE made me cry even more. Kindness has a way of undoing me.)

Before I leave the vet's office, I make an appointment for Friday. I need some time to think, I guess. When it comes to most decisions, I imagine myself as one who can make them easily and effectively. But I have no clarity until later, when I reflect on what happened after we returned from the examination.

After I return home, I think, "I've got to let Donna know." Donna is a godsend-dogwalker-school psychologist who showed up too  many years ago for me to remember. When I had both Tigger (who transitioned 5 years ago) and Max and two kitties, Shadow and Izzy. With my crazy work schedule, Donna comes by my house to feed and walk and love my animals while I'm away. She's also, when I've travelled, come by several times a day to take care of my pack.

My habit is to let the dogs outside -- "out the back" is the command -- after I step into the house and shed my bags. Max is often the first to the back door, even before I've started toward the hallway that leads to it. Emma bounds to the door, barking her excitement to finally be going out (even if she's done so just 20 minutes before). This time, though, Emma beats Max to the door because he is swaying, drunk-like because his hind legs aren't moving in synch. (Fond memory: Hiking with Max just a few feet in front of me. His legs have a glide to them I've never seen in another dog...)

Once on the back porch, Emma bounds down the steps. Max slowly and cautiously and with a little help, thumps down them. He sways and sits and struggles as he walks around the yard. I watch, helpless. The uneven tufts of grass interrupt what little momentum he has. It's when he falls as he's trying to poop that I hold him around his waist. I start sobbing.

I text Donna, "Max is having problems walking. His hind legs aren't cooperating. Just came back from the vet. He is on pain meds right now. Pls give him a 1/2 tab (they are already cut). He will need help getting down and up the stairs. If no improvement in 2 days I will need to decide..." It doesn't feel right to let her know through a text that we may have only one or two more days with Max.

Because I have this strong sense of obligation and responsibility toward people and work, I leave the house for a meeting at ODU. While I'm driving, I realize what has just happened at my house, in my back yard. My dear friend is incapacitated! I had to help him up on the couch, his favorite daytime spot, before I headed out.

As I drive to Norfolk, I call the vet's office again and arrange to bring Max in on Tuesday. I cancel all my meetings except for the one I'm going to and one more. I'm not fully present at either. I call friends as I'm driving home. Jan offers to keep me company and bring me dinner. I'm grateful to have both.

Once home, I compose an email to friends and family:
Hi,

You're probably aware that Max's health has been declining. He's 13+ years old now (hard to believe!). Last fall, he was diagnosed with thyroid problems as well as renal issues. The thyroid medication gave him a new life -- he's had a bounce in his step, a soft coat and renewed energy. 

    Until this morning. When I got up, his hind legs were not working properly. He is unable to walk without wobbling and falling down. I took him to the vet to find out what's going on. It looks like he has degenerative disc disease which can't be treated with typical medications because of the renal issues. He's on a pain medication. 

    He stumbled around the back yard after I brought him home from the vet this morning. His hind legs were so weak that he couldn't hold himself up to poop. This is no way to live -- for him or for me. 

    I cancelled all my commitments for this afternoon so I could hang out and monitor him. Tomorrow I will be letting him go. We'll make the final trip to the vet in the morning. Wish us well...

Suzan

I curl up with Max. Emma and Shadow join us. Our pack...

Donna is the first to visit, responding to my message, "Pls swing by. I would like to talk for a few min. Max is really in bad shape." She cries as she sees how his legs aren't working. "He was fine on Saturday!" she says.

I know. I know. Who could have predicted this?

Jan brings tomato soup and mac & cheese. Comfort food. Oh, and wine and chocolate, "for medicinal purposes." (THANK YOU!) We both cry and remember Max as a puppy, as an adult. Before she leaves, she sings a beautiful prayer to Max. I am sobbing by the time she finishes. (And again now as I write this.)

I'm exhausted when I fall into bed. For years, especially in winter months, Max has slept not just ON the bed, but UNDER the covers. I help him up. This time, he whimpers. Something hurts in this motion. He nestles at the side of the bed and I curl around him, crying. This is the last time I will be able to snuggle with him. I cry myself to sleep. Twice Max wakes up and somehow jumps off the bed. Emma has become the sentential, warning me when Max is on the move. I'm a light sleeper, so I'm up and off the bed, trailing Max down the hall to the back door, on the porch, down the steps and into the grass. (Fond memory: When it rains or snows, Max keeps his back paws on the last step, stretching his front legs into the yard, then pees. He turns quickly and races back up the stairs. He simply hates getting wet!)

This email comes after I have gone to sleep:
Oh Suzan.  
What a terrible day for you, but also sweet.  I remember your Max when he was just a pup, when his ears were bigger than his body.  Of course at that time we had no idea what would come of the suggestion, "Use your words, Max."  He's been a fellow who felt no compunction about making his right-now needs and desires very clear!  And all those bay-barks to say, "Isn't this (anticipation of baby food supper, visiting dogs running around the house, sitting for treats, people coming to the door) so very exciting?!" I love telling dog-people the story of Evil Genius Max the Beagle who rang the back door bells and then beat you to your breakfast!  In so many ways, Suzan, he has had you well trained.   It is hard to believe he's 13+.  I have enjoyed his humor and admired his tenacity for all these years.   May he rest in peace.
Love, Mollie 

I laugh as I remember the life, the incident. He actually stole my breakfast twice in one week before I caught on and started pushing my plate back from the edge of the table when I got up.

Our normal wake-up time is as the sun rises -- about 6:20 these days -- so I'm awake by then with Emma sitting at my face, wiggling with excitement that it's a whole new day, ready for any adventure. Shadow is meowing, HUNGRY for breakfast. This is all so normal, then I remember...

I have counted the number of times I've let the dogs out the back in the past day. No more than usual, but each time I'm hit with a wave of grief. This morning it is the last time I will see Max in this environment. He seems exhausted by the effort of keeping his body in alignment and moving. His front legs are now also wobbly with the strain of pulling his torso and hind legs. If I pick him up to help, he wriggles and grunts, sending me the message, "Don't."

Breakfast, then Max drunk-walks to the dog bed close to the kitchen. Even though I cry very easily, I am not the sloppy, huggy type. I haven't picked Max up to hold him and cry into his coat. Only once did I curl up with him on the small couch in my room. He was uncomfortable, so I moved away.

The drive to the vet is only 10 minutes, but I sob and sob and sob. I can't get out of the car. Max doesn't want to either. He knows where we are.

Although we have an 8:30 appointment and I arrive precisely on time (not my usual habit!), it's not until close to 9 that I see the vet. She is kind and compassionate and tells me she supports my decision. Which of course makes me cry.

After the sedative, after the medication, after Dr. C leaves the examination room, I am left with my heart aching with sorrow and grief.

In a recent interview, Jack Kornfield, Ph.D., states:

   Things change. We’re a river of change, and if we try to hold on, what we end up getting is rope burn. It’s a kind of recipe for suffering.

   If instead, we accept the fact that everything changes and discover that we can float, that we can surf rather than try to stop the waves, then our life becomes more responsive. It becomes more of a dance and there’s a tremendous joy that comes in it.

   There’s a certain grief and loss that must be honored and felt, but it’s not the end of this story, and it’s not who you really are. That’s a limited identity. You were that for a while. Now, you’re going to be something else and that’s the way life unfolds itself all the time.

Max was a good dog.

What a life well lived. I already miss him and I also know that my life will unfold itself exactly as it needs to.

In a Wabi Sabi way,
Suzan

Pieces for You

Hi,

My friend Amy Frost sent me an email recently with a wonderful question:
What would you do if you had a million dollars?
(Here's a song to listen to while you're thinking http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXdFTh1yX2c)

Let me know what you'd do!

Below is most of the letter I sent to everyone in celebration and gratitude...

For the holidays, I created a huge collage (18” x 48”) called, “Pieces for You”. It’s a mixed-media piece with:

bits of cards (there may even be something from one YOU sent!), 

fabric (scraps from Bhutan), 

beads, 

photographs, 

canceled stamps (from a collection donated to me by Mollie Messimer), 

images from magazines, 

copies of old keys and other items, 

a poem, 

quotes and sayings, 

Washi tape 

and other odds- and-ends

All these I collected this past year, then topped with a sparkle Mod Podge (I LOVE sparkle!) to hold it all together. Can you tell where your piece fits in?

Use the card for:

a bookmark (do YOU still read books? I do!)

refrigerator art

inspiration for your next poem, short story or blog

artwork for your office (frame it!)

writing a note to someone else

** Tell me your idea...

The concept for this collage came as I was preparing for a few days of rest this holiday season. I’ve had a few adventures earlier this year, including trips to conferences in Alexandria, VA, and Denver, CO, as well as Atlanta, GA (for my niece, Magee's high school graduation) and Dublin, Ireland for a counseling institute I co-lead. It's been a rough past few months at my full-time job, but I submitted my letter of resignation in November -- effective at the end of my contract in the latter part of May this year. (Yay!)

In November, I opened a new counseling practice with two colleagues (www.MilitaryIntegrativeTherapies.com); it's really a continuation of what I've been doing since 2000, when I started my practice, only now I'm collaborating! AND, I finally figured out how to organize all the websites I have under my name! My new website is www.Suzan-Thompson.com. It's under construction right now, but will include the various aspects of services I offer.

I'll be blogging weekly on this site or at toolkit4transformation.blogspot.com, so check in now and again for what's new!

Here's a collage-photo of the whole collage I created:

The one complete poem in the collage (if you received it, let me know!) is called “Praying” by Mary Oliver:

It doesn’t have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

words together and don’t try

to make them elaborate,  this isn’t

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

So, with this letter, I’m sending patched words together from the collage – “Pieces for You” – that, as I was creating it, helped me remember my connections with friends and family.

Thanks for sharing yourself with me.

Yours in Magic, Wonder & Miracles,

Suzan

Waking Dream: A Miracle

The waking "dream" I had included a "visitation" by an angel (or, in Christian culture, it was Mary; Quan Yin, the embodiment of compassion in Buddhist)! 

Although I'm referring to it as a "dream", this ACTUALLY happened just a few days ago. I'm not much into "visitations" but it hit me as I was driving home that I had experienced something extraordinary.

Here's the "dream" (which is a real-life event):

     I'm driving to meet my colleague Ted for lunch and as I turn down a street, I see a car back right into another car which is parked on the street. The driver continues, without stopping. I honk my horn and grab a pen and paper to write down the license number because I see there's a dent in the car that was parked. The driver then turns her car around and pulls up behind the dented car. I'm still in mine, irritated and waiting to see what happens. 

     The driver pauses. I see she's an older woman. I roll down my window and say to her, "I saw you hit that car. You were just going to leave until I honked." She says to me, "I WAS turning around." I'm even more irritated, so I  just park my car, then return. 

     The driver is still sitting in her car when I walk back to the scene. She says she doesn't know what to do. I rattle off 3-4 steps in the process of reporting an accident (like I'm suddenly an expert -- I've had ONE in my entire life!). As I'm talking to her, another woman approaches (I have no idea where she came from!), crossing the street starting behind me, then ending just in front of me. She's a beautiful, African American woman, wearing a colorful scarf and long black coat, black skirt, top and shoes. She looks at me with compassion and says gently, "She's old. She doesn't know what to do. Help her. [And even more gently] You've started something, so finish it." She leaves and is gone in seconds. 

     I'm taken aback by her gentle tone and the contrast with my harsh attitude. I am able to shift into helping the driver briefly, then walk away.

     When I think about the incident later, after I've returned home, I realize, "Oh my God! I was visited by Mary!" I write about the event in my journal, starting with, "Dear Mary, I saw you today and I am overcome by tears of compassion...."

     It's moments like these I am deeply grateful for the guidance that just SHOWS UP when I'm least expecting it.

In Wonder,

Suzan

Unable to Sleep

I'm up late tonight (Sept. 11 & into early 12, 2013), unable to sleep.

So many thoughts swirling around in my head and feelings bubbling up. (Plus I drank coffee today -- even decaf has an effect on my system.)

One of the biggest ah-ha realizations today came when I was talking with a colleague. I heard myself say, "I've had enough of crazy. It's what I grew up in and I'm done with it." It hit me that I'm steeped in crazy-making -- actions of others around me -- and I've been having the same thoughts and feelings as I did when I was a kid.

This evening, I drew a card from my Toolkit for Transformation deck (go to www.HealTraumaFast.com for the most recent iteration): "Notice Your Own Process". No kidding!

(Completely unrelated to what I'm writing about... the "Spirit Box" I've created. Diggin' the concept.)

I'm asking for a miracle to shift what is going on. It certainly can be one that changes my perspective. I'd love for this miracle to change the dynamics of the situation I've been facing. I'll "settle" for a minor miracle -- and celebrate it with equal joy and wonder as if it were a major one -- that helps me shift my focus in my thinking.

Interesting... as I write the last paragraph, I notice my eyes are drooping and I could fall asleep. (Maybe a little avoidance?!?)

Mission accomplished: ready to go to sleep.

Zzzzzz,
Suzan

Two Weeks in Ireland: Post-Return Reflection

Overall, this was a great trip. I know I felt resentment in the weeks before going because I don't get paid for leading the program. It's not a vacation. It's work. Yet, I was able to get into somewhat of a vacation mode -- I was, after all, in Ireland!

The flight on Thursday leaving Dublin was delayed 2 hours. Someone was sick -- not a medical emergency from what I could tell -- so we sat on the tarmac for almost an hour before we could turn around and go back to a gate. Customs had to meet the person to clear them back into the country. Then, because we'd sat so long, the plane had to be refueled. Passengers seemed calm, though, taking it in stride.

The delay meant that I missed my 3pm connecting flight to Roanoke. Luckily, there was one at 5. I made it home by 11:30pm with enough time to get everything together for the ropes course program on Friday.

Shadow and Emma have stuck next to me everywhere I go in the house for the past 3 days. Every time I sit down, Shadow is on my lap. I know he was lonely and is happy to have us all back.

In checking ODU email today, there was a message from someone at Trinity regarding a complaint. I don't know yet what it is. I'm sure that it's never happened before, though, and I wonder what it is and who it was...

It's good to be home.
Suzan