Tag Archives: Illness

Everything Changes

Another Wednesday without a wishcast prompt. And yet, I’m feeling a powerful need to make wishes — big wishes, important wishes, wishes for healing and peace.

I wish good health and healing for Jamie’s mom. I wish for strength, peace, and comfort for Jamie and anyone else loving and supporting her mom right now.

I wish for Dexter not to suffer, (he was at the emergency vet three weeks ago, his nose has been bleeding more that usual — whatever “usual” even means when cancer is involved — and on Saturday, he sprained his leg — a different one, not the one he’s already in physical therapy for). I also continue to wish that he have an easy death, whenever that might come.

I wish good luck, a safe trip and a workable outcome for my friend Ann. Today she’s making another visit to a doctor in Boston who might have a new treatment option for her cancer. No matter what happens, I wish her and her partner ease, comfort, and clarity.

I wish comfort for my friend Susan, my dear friend Kelly‘s mom. This past week had to have been so rough for her, with Mother’s Day and the three year anniversary of Kelly’s passing just days apart — but I also know that the arrival of a new granddaughter is offering so much joy. I wish for comfort for all of us who love Kelly and still feel so sad, miss her so much, who will forever carry that ache.

So many are suffering. It can feel overwhelming sometimes. But just when I start to feel like it’s all too much, someone does or says or makes or shares something so beautiful, that I remember: life is tender and terrible, beautiful and brutal — keep your heart open.

Today, it was a post on Hopeful World. It included beautiful words from Jen Lemen, who has been the healing balm for my own suffering so many times I’ve stopped counting. The video in the post is one she’d shared with me back in September, at a moment when it was just what I needed, and my response to it was just what she needed, but I was sworn to secrecy. I’ve been waiting patiently for her to share it with the world, so I could share it with you, and today is the day.

Everything changes. And when we can remember that during the low times, our hearts can fill with hope. And when we can tell each other this in the good times, our hearts can fill with gratitude. No matter what, we can be gentle, we can be kind. And we can remember, that even in this, we are never, ever alone. ~Jen Lemen

Gratitude Friday

frozen feather

This post started as a mashup of The Little Bliss List and Joy Jam, and as such is meant to celebrate: the little things that brought me hope and happiness this week, the sweet stuff of life, those small gifts that brought me joy this week. By sharing them, I not only make public my gratitude, but maybe also help you notice your own good stuff and send some positive energy out into the world.

1. Roasted Vegetables. I could eat roasted brussel sprouts every day of of the week. I like them even more than french fries.

2. Responses to a Cultivating Courage dare. The goal was to ask 5-10 people our strengths, gifts, superpower and to be able to hear, accept, allow their response, to take the compliment instead of brushing it off or shutting down. As in the last time I did this, I loved the responses I got, was so grateful for the people who took the time to answer, to make the offering. It’s such a powerful exercise to hear how other people see me (and they only tell you the good stuff).

3. Walking with the dogs. It’s been nice to get back to our routine. Over Winter Break, with both Eric and I off work, all four of us would go, and I love that, but there’s also something great about just me and the dogs. It is a beautiful world out there, and I love having a reason to go see it, to walk around in it and look, to be.

4. My health. A very nasty crud or two, along with a few varieties of the plague are out there this season. I am trying really, really hard not to judge, not to get frustrated or irritated when people who have the option of paid sick leave don’t stay home and get well, when they risk infecting other people with the same thing that’s making them feel so crappy, how that makes what is going around continue to go round and round. Instead, I shift my focus to being grateful for my continued good health, and to sending anyone who is sick healing vibes and compassion, and a wish that they know it’s okay to take care of themselves, that for most of them no one will die if they didn’t go to work for a few days–and I’m also washing my hands like a mad woman.

5. Videos of my dogs. I love being able to see Sam as a puppy, to watch Obi and Dexter play (even though it makes me sad too).

Here’s one of Dexter, rolling in the grass, one of his favorite things, growling and grunting like a pig.

Bonus Joy: Dexter is still here, still doing well. Just a bit ago, when I went out to clean up the backyard, he brought a ball for me to throw, and we played fetch for a bit. He and I have spent hundreds of hours this exact same way over the last 9.5 years.

The beam of sunlight in this picture from one of our walks this week makes him look like a unicorn.

Unicorn Dex

P.S. I remember back when I was so excited anyone read my blog, that I took a picture of my stats page when I hit 2000 views. At some point today or tomorrow, it will reach 50,000. I can barely wrap my mind around that number. All I know is that I have the kindest and gentlest readers, and I bow deeply and with such gratitude to each and every one of you who took the time to show up. Thank you.

Three Truths and One Wish

1. Truth: Confidence is the antidote to fear. It is medicine for the poison of anxiety and worry. And it doesn’t mean being cocky or puffed up about yourself. It means open-hearted faith in your own capacity for natural wisdom and compassion, belief in fundamental, basic goodness. It means resting in the knowledge that everything is unfolding exactly as it should be, and that everything presents an opportunity to love more, to learn to practice and get stronger.

2. Truth: I will know what to do when the bad stuff happens. It will be bad, hard, brutal, and maybe even terrifying, but I will be able to handle it, make the right decisions, do the right thing.

3. Truth: I don’t have to live in the someday moment of terror right now. I don’t have to actively reject it, plan for it, worry about it, or anticipate it. I can surrender, let go and be present in this moment. This moment when he is here, I can see him, reach out and touch his physical form, a body that right now is surprisingly healthy and strong, alive.

One wish: That everyone suffering from physical illness, whether it be chronic, temporary, or terminal feel some relief, experience love, connection, and joy in this moment.