Give Yourself a Break ...

Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares

that will not withdraw from us.

Maya Angelou

Hi everyone,

We're well into the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer but, for many of us, our care-giving work will continue regardless the season. If you're someone who is aching for a break while knowing that it won't happen any time soon, try this easy meditation to give yourself a brief "pause that refreshes".

By allowing yourself to "close your eyes and picture this ... ", you can quickly take yourself away from stress, problems and worries.

Why not give it a try?  Just take a few moments and close your eyes and fully picture any of the things on this list (or try opening a magazine with your eyes closed, pointing to a sentence or picture, and fully imagining that).

-  A new baby fresh from a bath

-  A cool early morning by a lake

-  The smell of freshly ground coffee

-   An afternoon in a bookstore

-  Sitting in your flower garden

-  The sound of Rice Krispies

-   A run at the beach

-  Candles dripping wax

-  The sound of rain on the roof

-   A wood stove

-  A field full of alpine flowers

-  Newly hatched chicks

-  Gathering eggs from a nest

-  Colouring in your colouring book

-  A hike in the woods

-  Flying a kite

-  The feel of grass on your feet

-  The dawn chorus of birdsong

-  Getting dressed for a dinner and concert

-  Skating on a frozen pond

-  Camping

-  Watching clouds 

-  Warm chocolate chip cookies and milk

-  Sipping tea by the fire

-  Plunging into a swimming pool or lake

-  Children's laughter

-  Riding your bike downhill fast

-  Meditating in the early hours

-  Plush terry bathrobes

-  Listening to seashells

-  Going to a Broadway show

-  Finger painting

-  Reading in a big chair

-  Renting a row boat 

-  Smelling laundry fresh from the line

-  Lying in tall grass 

Whatever you choose to picture, may it carry you to a place of refreshment and re-creation in the midst of your busy day.

I will be leaving for the cottage on Thursday to spend three weeks re-creating so won't be posting again until I return in August.

Til then, have a wonderful summer!

Jan

  

   

Summer Harvest: Or What I (Re)Learned On Summer Vacation ...

Hello, everyone!

I'm back from an unexpectedly busy summer and enjoying the quickening of heart and mind that always seems to accompany this time of year. As the days of summer shorten and I gear up for fall workshops, I find myself reflecting upon the things I've learned (or re-learned) this summer -  the fruits of my summer harvest.

1.  Remember to rest: 

This year's vacation began with two wonderful weeks at Kahshe Lake in northern Ontario. There, my body relaxed and I was reminded, once again, of the importance of rest and respite. Sitting on the deck, doing nothing, wrapped in the piney fragrance of sun-warmed trees is one of the most restorative things I can imagine and yet I can lose track of my need for this deep rest once I move into the busyness of the teaching season.

This year, I've decided to build rest days into the calendar in advance. On these days, I will stay at home by the fire, be silent, avoid screen and phone time, eat pre-prepared meals, perhaps read bits of poetry or fiction, and mostly, just rest. (I did learn this lesson more than ten years ago when my husband was ill but it seems that it takes intentionality and commitment to remember to use it during my busiest times.)

Perhaps you'd like to join me in honouring our universal need for rest and re-creation this fall? If your life won't accommodate a full rest day, perhaps a half day, or a couple of hours, or 30 minutes every morning or a 10 minute power nap in the afternoon would be a place to start ...? The important thing is to choose what works for you and then protect the time to do it.


2. Recommit to a spiritual practice:

As I've said elsewhere, most people believe that we have a spiritual life to tend as well as physical and psychological ones. After a very full late summer with considerable family caregiving and much writing, I found that I had lost the rhythm of two of my much-needed spiritual practices. I was falling asleep during (or sleeping right through) my early morning meditation/prayer time and I was skipping my treasured walks at the lake. (Not a good sign when fall's busyness hadn't yet begun!) Fortunately, I was able to get some rest, and with rest came the desire to refocus on this vital piece of self-care.

Research tells us that developing and maintaining a regular spiritual practice is important for our wellbeing if we want to work with people who are traumatized. Spiritual practice creates space - space for healing and transformation and space for building resilience. Whether you meditate, practice centering prayer, commune with nature, write a gratitude journal, read inspirational writings, dance or sing, or practice a nightly examen, consciously attending to your spiritual life can go a long way toward mitigating compassion fatigue.

If you have had a regular spiritual practice in the past but have let it slip away, why not consider beginning again this fall? First, take some time to consider why you are not practicing now. Has your life changed? Did you become bored with the practice? Was it not a good fit in the first instance?  Once you know why you stopped, begin again or do some exploring to discover new possibilities. Be sure to choose a practice congruent with both your personality and your current life circumstances.

As I re-learned when I returned to my regular practices last week, taking the time to deepen your spiritual life positively affects every other aspect of your being.


3.  Make heart connections with supportive people:

Isolation is both a source and consequence of compassion fatigue. When we hide painful emotional responses to our work, either in the name of strength and stoicism or because there's no energy left to connect with our support systems, we increase the likelihood of being traumatized. And when we become traumatized, we are likely to isolate and hide our trauma for all the same reasons. Isolation becomes entwined in the experience of compassion fatigue and healing involves connecting or reconnecting with loving, responsive supporters.

I felt a measure of this isolation recently, first as I supported an elderly friend for five weeks following emergency surgery and then, as I companioned extended family following a loved one's life-threatening post-transplant lung infection. In the days before I knew about compassion fatigue, I might have spiralled into a state of exhaustion and depletion. Fortunately, these days I can recognize when my early warning signs are saying, "Enough!"  One of those early warning signs is realizing that I haven't had contact with anyone on my KIT (Keeping In Touch) List.

My husband introduced me to the idea of keeping a KIT list. He kept a list of 6 or 8 good friends front-and-centre on his desk and committed to contacting each one at least once a month so that his important relationships could be regularly nourished. Sometimes, he wrote them "proper letters" with envelopes and stamps; sometimes they had coffee or lunch; sometimes they went for walks, hikes or a bike rides; and sometimes they just enjoyed short or protracted phone conversations. The point was that he was intentional about having regular heart-to-heart connection with people who mattered to him. It is this kind of connection that reduces stress and protects both our physical and emotional health. If the idea appeals to you, why not give it a try?


So, these are a few of the summer's lessons for me. What about you? What has been your summer harvest?

Self-care and the Fullness of Summer ...

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves ...

I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning 

over again with the summer.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Hi everyone - Happy Summer Solstice for yesterday!

Summer is finally here - the season of growth, ripening, fullness and veriditas when white blossoms turn into plump berries, trees become lush symphonies of green, and orchards hang heavy with a cornucopia of sun-warmed fruits. It can also be a time for growth and ripening in our own lives.

Traditionally, the summer months provide us with time to slow our pace, to rest and refresh, and to nurture our creative gifts. There is more time to listen in the silence, to reconnect with the rhythms of nature and to ponder whatever fresh springs are arising from deep within us.

As we make time to feed our empty-ish bodies and souls through living more simply and well - resting, reading, meditating, exercising, resting, connecting, eating well, resting - we may find that our hearts begin to fill with a sense of restoration and gratitude. And we may begin to experience a deep contentment. As author, Christine Paintner, says:

This (contentment) isn't a kind of resigned feeling of being happy with what you have, but a vibrant, even ecstatic joy at the abundance of life. To feel gratitude and awe that we have anything at all, much less a home, work, food, health, and friendship, knowing that any one of those is grace enough.

From this filling up and its vibrant contentment, can come a reawakening of our creative juices. Ideas for life changes, new projects and artistic expression can bubble into our consciousness, unbidden. Thoughts can flow with ease. We find that there is, once again, a feeling of aliveness, fullness and abundance within us.

It all begins with a choice to start over once again - to slow the pace and take small steps toward improving our self care. What about you? Are there places in your life that need a chance to fill up and grow into juicy ripeness this summer? What are your plans for this season of abundance? Is there any way at all that you can s-l-o-w things down and intentionally make some space for your own restoration? If you need some encouragement to make this choice, try reading Christine Paintner's recent and wonderful poem about feeling your body and spirit come back to life as the sap rises:

How to Feel the Sap Rising

(A poem for summer)

Walk as slowly as possible,

all the while imagining 

yourself moving through

pools of honey and dancing with

snails, turtles, and caterpillars.

Turn your body in a clockwise direction

to inspire your dreams to flow upward. 

Imagine the trees are your own

wise ancestors offering their emerald

leaves to you as a sacred text.

Lay yourself down across the earth

and stones. Feel the vibration of

dirt and moss, sparking a tiny

(or tremendous)

revolution in your heart

with their own great longing.

Close your eyes and forget this

border of skin. Imagine the

breeze blowing through your hair

is the breath of the forest and

your own breath joined, rising and

falling in ancient rhythms.

Open your eyes again and see it

is true, that there is no "me" and "tree"

but only One great pulsing of life,

one sap which nourishes and 

enlivens all, one great nectar

bestowing trust and wonder.

Open your eyes and see that there

are no more words like beautiful

and ugly, good and bad,

but only the shimmering presence of your

own attention to life.

Only one great miracle unfolding and

only one sacred word which is

yes.

Christine Valters Painter

Happy summer!