Author Archives: Maren

Embracing Grief

“Grief stirs the heart. It is indeed the song of a soul alive.” – Francis Weller

The culture in which I was raised is not hospitable to grieving. We pride ourselves on being rugged individualists. From minor tugs at the heart to the most deeply rooted sorrows, we largely process such feelings alone or in the privacy of therapeutic relationships. We may bypass grief altogether through amnesia (forgetting) or anesthesia (numbing out) to avoid unpleasantness and get on with life.

Francis Weller’s book The Wild Edge of Sorrow: Rituals and Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief calls for a different response. He argues that “grief is not a problem to be solved, not a condition to be medicated, but a deep encounter with an essential experience of being human.” We are meant to be open and vulnerable to all the joys and sorrows that attend to the natural rhythm of growth/progress and decay/death. That is the essence of leading a vital and full life.

Weller defines five gates through which we all experience grief: one familiar and four typically outside conscious thought.

First Gate: Everything We Have, We Will Lose. We learn early in life that all things are impermanent. Everyone and everything we know will eventually fall away from us. While grief is inevitable, it also reminds us that we dared to love. We’re admonished not to let grief become a weight that drags us down or to allow our feelings to go underground and harden. We’re meant to feel and be present for grief.

“It is a holy thing to love what death can touch.” – Judah Halevior

Second Gate: The Places That Have Not Known Love. We may deem parts of ourselves unacceptable in the eyes of the world. They may be sources of shame or contempt, so we hide them from ourselves and others and deny them kindness, compassion, and warmth. Unfortunately, we cannot grieve that which lies outside our circle of worth. Weller encourages us to welcome our full range of being with interest, care, and curiosity. In so doing, we free ourselves from comparing ourselves to others and the obsession of getting things right.

“I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just to the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.” – Diane Ackerman

Third Gate: The Sorrows of the World. Our lives are inexorably tied to the health of the planet. And yet we have lost our connection to nature and the voices of the wild. Air, water, and land have become polluted. Every day up to 150 species are lost. The planet is warming, and the protective ozone layer depletes. We need to remember our bond to the earth and grieve her losses.

“We have lived our lives by the assumption that what was good for us would be good for the world. We must change our lives so that it will be possible to live by the contrary assumption, that what is good for the world will be good for us.” – Wendell Berry

Fourth Gate: What We Expected and Did Not Receive. We are born with certain expectations for connection and engagement. We long to belong; we want to contribute. We seek welcome, a sense of worth, and purposeful existence. We feel empty in their absence. Weller encourages us to recall the “original cadence of the soul,” acknowledge these wounds, work toward healing. Running away is not the answer. We’re admonished to be courageous; facing our pain is the key to freedom.

“Always remember you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.“ – A.A. Milne

The Fifth Gate: Ancestral Grief. Our forebearers’ sorrows insinuate themselves into the fabric of our lives: slavery, violence, disease, substance abuse, etc. We partake of their history; they shape our narratives and our futures.

“The long shadow of this violence persists in our psyches, and we need to address it and work with it until there is some genuine atonement for these wrongs.” – Francis Weller

We can develop skills and practices to tend to grief – by listening and being present, by giving ourselves space for silence and solitude, and by reaching out to community. As Weller says:

“Our ability to drop into this interior world and do the difficult work of metabolizing sorrow is dependent on the community that surrounds us.”

We need time to reflect and open to the experience. Weller says: “Holding grief is an act of great devotion to the soul.” When ready, we move out to share our sorrow with others, giving ourselves sustenance while strengthening bonds and belonging.

We are remade in grief – broken and reassembled. Per Carl Jung, our transformation rests upon three principles: insight (a new ways of seeing), endurance (keeping insights in front of us), and action (new gestures in the world). When we embrace these truths, we have the opportunity to come out the other side with emotional closure and wisdom born of darkness. At the end of the day:

“Don’t let sorrow drag us back into history. We are freed to love this life, and when we are asked finally to release it, we can let it go.”

A Year in Limbo

It has been a year since we sold our home and placed ourselves in a holding pattern until we figured out what we wanted to do. At the time, we knew that our humble abode was too much house and too much yard for our stage of life. The market and neighborhood favored sale, and we were rewarded with three offers within 24 hours of listing. For icing on the cake, we were delighted with the folks who purchased our home and have confidence that they will enjoy it as much as we did.

We got lucky on the rental property. It readily accommodates our downsized stuff. It’s a short walking distance to a shopping center, a wonderful gym, and lovely nature trails. Our landlord is a gem, and we’ve forged a nice connection with our next-door neighbor. Most of the time, it’s quiet.

While I’ll confess to hankering for a place to call our own, I’m grateful for having made the decision to have this year in limbo.

We needed to rest and recharge. The months leading up to our home sale were angsty as we contemplated making a major life change. Downsizing was effortful and a bit sorrowful. I suspect there was some grieving that went along with our change in circumstances. And, of course, it was effortful to pack, empty of the house, and move everything to a new location. (We U-Hauled all the boxes and manageable furnishings!) Amidst the turmoil, we realized that neither of us had the wherewithal to make another major decision. We needed to just chill out.

We needed to reflect on how we wanted to live during the next phase of our lives. Let’s face it. Once you reach a certain age, having a vibrant social life gets harder. And since socialization looms large in sustaining cognitive function, lifestyle considerations become as critical as housing decisions. I’ve had my fingers in a lot of pies, but several organizational affiliations have attenuated recently. My introverted husband could use a more hospitable setting especially given that he no longer drives. So, we’re taking a serious look at 55+ communities as well as those with high walkability and access to senior-friendly activities.

We needed to figure out where we wanted to live. We have lots of friends in this area but no extended family. Having gone through end-of-life management with both parents, I understand the value of having relatives nearby. Our exploration to date has included several visits to Washington and Idaho; we’re planning a trip to Colorado. Because an out-of-state move would prove daunting, we really needed to consider whether we had the stomach for it. We’ve done two cross-country moves in or married life. I’ve got the mechanics of relocation down and a pretty good idea of how I’d get enmeshed in community. Healthcare presents challenges given the number of doctors on our team and the difficulty getting appointments with them. Some practices are so busy that they aren’t taking new patients! That’s an extra layer of research for the planning phase. Mercifully, we’re both in a stable situation at the moment, so we could afford a few months of lag time getting established with new physicians.

We needed to get our financial house in order. I’ve always paid close attention to the family income, expenses, and balance sheet. We’ve lived within our means and established a decent nest egg on which to retire. That being said, end of life brings a new set of expenses and risks, and some senior housing options are really, really expensive. I’ve added some sophistication to my financial planning model, and we’ve worked with a financial advisor to adjust our investment portfolio to suit future needs. We can base our housing decision on a clear understanding of what we can and can’t afford.

I’d still like to be settled and moving forward into the next phase of our lives, but I’m glad we didn’t rush into a decision that we might have regretted. I’ve recognized that we’re not simply transitioning from a bigger-house-bigger-yard to a smaller-house-smaller-yard. We’re setting ourselves up for healthy aging in an environment that supports changing needs as they arise. And that takes a little time and planning.

Exercise Builds Strong Bones

As noted in a previous post, bones matter! Our skeletal frame defines our basic shape, protects our vital organs, and serves as the scaffolding on which all of our soft tissues hang. It undergoes tremendous growth between infancy and adulthood, achieving peak bone mass somewhere between age 20 and 30. Bone remodeling remains a mainstay of our physiology for a lifetime, constantly absorbing old and weakened bone to make way for deposit of stronger material.

Healthy bodies balance bone excavation and bone building via osteoblasts and osteoclasts, respectively. When osteoclast activity outpaces osteoblasts, a diagnosis of osteopenia or osteoporosis may result. Commonly prescribed pharmaceuticals (e.g., Fosamax, Boniva, Reclast, Prolia) put the brakes on osteoclast activity, but the question remains: What can I do to build bone once I’ve lost it?

There are a couple of bone building pharmaceuticals (e.g., Forteo, Evenity), but they’re quite spendy and generally reserved for folks with severe bone loss. Fortunately, there is a low cost, accessible, easily customizable alternative: EXERCISE!

Physical activity generates external and internal forces on the skeleton. The resulting mechanical strain and vibration in the bones stimulates stem cells to differentiate into osteoblasts and osteoclasts, thereby increasing bone turnover and promoting bone growth. Bone density and bone quality improve while squeezing out fat in the bone marrow. Not surprisingly, a history of vigorous physical activity is associated with stronger outer (cortical) bone, greater cross-sectional support (trabecular), and higher bone mineral density (BMD).

For postmenopausal women seeking to build bones, a recent study determined the effects of low, moderate, and high intensity exercise on BMD at the spine and hip in postmenopausal women.¹ It covered 53 trials testing 63 interventions: 19 low, 40 moderate, 4 high intensity. Consider exercise intensity as follows:

LOW: 40-50% of your maximum heart rate (MHR)² – e.g., a casual walk, a stretch session, a beginners’ yoga class or tai chi, bike riding, using an elliptical trainer at an easy pace
MODERATE: 50-70% of your MHR – e.g., brisk walking, walking uphill, jogging, using an elliptical trainer at a faster pace
HIGH: 70-85% of your maximum heart rate – e.g., running at a heart-pounding pace, High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT), jumping, aerobics, or any other impact-oriented vigorous activity where you can say but a few words before having to breathe

Results of the highest quality trials suggest that a combination of progressive resistance and impact training at moderate to high intensity appears to be the most effective regimen to improve bone strength at the spine and hip. Low intensity exercise does not appear to be efficacious, though some benefit has been registered in the femoral neck. For those who enjoy walking, the research suggests a spirited pace at 75% or greater MHR or walking with a weighted vest. Non-impact aerobics such as cycling or swimming have shown little to no effect on preventing age-related bone loss.

In another study on postmenopausal women,³ participants were randomly assigned to groups and tasked with hopping 50 times on each foot for either 0, 2, 4, or 7 days a week for 6 months. The 7-day a week group built significantly more bone during the study period. Not bad for such a simple intervention!

Of course, weight-bearing exercise may be contraindicated for folks with severe osteoporosis or osteoarthritis. Mechanical loading may also be ill-advised for those with diseased cartilage. And individuals with cardiovascular health problems may not be able to engage in the vigorous exercise recommended for BMD improvement. A consultation with a physician makes good sense.

Finally, bone guru Dr. R. Keith McCormick gives a big “thumbs up” to exercise in his masterpiece, Great Bones. He cites several benefits:

Increased muscle tone and strength
Improved coordination and balance
Tightened core muscles
Increased join flexibility
Reduced fall risk (which really matters to folks with osteoporosis!)
Enhanced circulation
Reduced systemic inflammation (which dampens osteoclast activity)
Improved mitochondrial function (which boosts energy)
Elevated protein synthesis
FUN!

He prefers short bouts of exercise (30 minute sessions) for resistance training (3+ days/week) and endurance training (3+ days/week) as excess stress combined with inadequate rest are bad for bones. His recipe for bone health calls for:

Notes:

¹ Melanie Kistler-Fischbacher, Benjamin K. Weeks, Belinda R. Beck, The effect of exercise intensity on bone in postmenopausal women (part 2): A meta-analysis, February 2021

² Multiply your age by 0.7 and subtract the total from 208 to get your maximum heart rate.

³ Christine A. Bailey, Katherine Brooke-Wavell, Optimum frequency of exercise for bone health: Randomised controlled trial of a high-impact unilateral intervention, April 2010

Presence in the Midst of Sorrow

The most recent module in my Mindfulness Meditation Teacher Certification Program concerned death and dying. It hearkened back to the training and clinical experience I received as a hospital chaplain. And I recalled stories that have stayed with me ever since.

The hospital’s policy called for the presence of a chaplain at every code blue and death. I took the first 24-hour shift among my peer group during which I was summoned to three deaths all with mourners my age – a wife saying good-bye to her husband, siblings witnessing the passing of a parent, and a sister at the bedside of her brother. I was anxious about doing and saying the right thing and a little triggered at being present in circumstances that could easily have been my own. Yet once I found myself in the moment, I realized that all I need do was be a loving and caring presence. That was enough.

Some weeks later, a 62-year man entered the ER having suffered what would become a fatal heart attack. He was Pakistani, and his family arrived shortly after he was pronounced dead. The women were dressed in traditional garb, and all but one of the family members were not English speaking. As I entered the ER and took in the scene, I had all kinds of noise going on in my head. I don’t speak their language. I’m not the right faith tradition. They won’t want me to intrude on their privacy. Yet I was duty bound to enter the space and express my condolences. The gentleman’s wife was sitting up by his head and holding his hand. I bent down to her ear and whispered, “I am so very sorry for your loss.” She reached her arm around my head and pulled me close to hers as we both wept. Then it hit me: We’re just two women brought together to share in a common experience of grief. Our differences don’t matter; our care for one another does.

Even families have difficulty knowing what to do at the end. A large one had gathered in the ICU for what was to be the final hour of their beloved patriarch’s life. They stood anxiously in the crowed space waiting for his passing… which didn’t come. As they started to disperse, I asked that they share stories about him. I found out that he loved singing in his church choir. I remembered that we had several hymnals in the chaplain’s office and brought them back to the room. The family selected song after song of his favorites and sang to him. He passed peacefully amidst this choir of angels.

Another gentleman kept vigil at the bedside of his lifelong friend and would not leave until he passed. Neither had family to which they were close, so it was an especially sorrowful time. The staff called for my support as they expected the patient to pass momentarily. Even though it was the end of my shift, I decided to stay until the end. I heard stories of how they met and all the adventures that they’d shared together. They both loved music, and the patient was especially fond of opera. As I was working up several arias at the time in my voice lessons, I sang several of them softly. (I felt silly doing it, but my supervisor suggested that we use all of our gifts in ministry. It seemed to be meaningful in this instance.) Fours hours later, the patient was still with us. I finally had to go home. Fifteen minutes after I left, the man passed and another chaplain provided prayer and support. It was as if the patient wanted to be a good host – or simply enjoyed the stimulation of our spirited conversation – and only departed when things quieted down. I was so sorry that I wasn’t there at the end.

Having been the attending chaplain for over a hundred deaths, I found a sense of peace at being in the midst of grief at the end of life. It helped me be present for my beloved father when he passed in 2016. His health had been faltering for several days, and he had endured an especially difficult night when I arrived that morning. He held my hand and settled in to his last few hours of life. I whispered in his ear, “You are the best father in the whole world.” With his characteristic sense of humor, he replied, “Are you sure you checked them all?” Those were the last words he spoke. He knew he was loved.

It is our natural tendency to avoid pain and suffering – our own and that of others. We fear wading into those waters, and our anxiety may cause us to try to may the anguish go away. It’s why so many folks rely on platitudes such as: “He’s in a better place.” “God must have wanted her in heaven.” “They wouldn’t want you to be sad.” Yet our hearts break and have their own time for healing and finding solace. What we most need are those who can “sit in the mud” with us. Care, compassion, love. It’s not so hard.

I’ll Be Happy When…

I’ve often fallen into the delayed happiness trap – that belief that happiness will arrive when a certain event happens or time frame passes. My favorite variation on the trap takes the form of “if I can just get through this week (deadline, project, exam, etc.), then I’ll be happy.” I say it a lot. And I get that it puts happiness “out there” when it’s absolutely within my grasp to have it in the midst of whatever is going on right now. It’s a bad habit that I’m trying to break.

Happiness guru Sonja Lyubomirsky wrote a book about this trap. In The Myths of Happiness, she explores ten adult “crisis points” and the false beliefs we carry regarding the impact they’ll have on our lives. It turns out, we’re not very good at forecasting future happiness:

We forget our tendency to adapt rapidly to good stuff (a.k.a. hedonic adaptation) and thereby cancel out any temporary bump in happiness that we experience.
We chronically overestimate how long and intensely a negative outcome will affect us and underestimate our capacity to marshal resources and move forward.
We don’t realize that people who have experienced some adversity may be happier than those who haven’t because of their increased resiliency, preparedness, and appreciation.
We can’t know the long-term impact of something in the moment. The “worst thing” may turn out to be the “best thing.”

With greater insights about common fallacies, Lyubomirsky can guide us toward helathier attitudes today.

Myth #1: “I’ll be happy when I’m married to the right person.” Even the best of choices may wind up seeming less that satisfactory once the thrill of the romance wears off. Marriage gets ordinary. To sustain positive vibes over the long haul: Appreciate your partner’s good qualities and small acts of kindness. Aim for at least 5 positive comments/interactions for every negative one. Add variety to your lives; break up routines. It boosts happiness and is good for the brain. Make the most of your partner’s good news and be a support resource toward realizing his/her/their best self. Make physical contact regularly.

Myth #2: “I can’t be happy when my relationship has fallen apart.” We habitually underestimate the strength of our psychological immune system. We are masters of survival. That being said, a support network helps as does talking through the experience from the perspective of an caring observer. Find liberation through forgiveness. It reduces grievances, minimizes negative thoughts, bolsters optimism, fosters contentment, improves health, and boosts productivity.

Myth #3: I’ll be happy when I have kids.” Parenting is quite stressful. While we have coping mechanisms for big life events, the daily hassles and irritants that come with raising children can be a drag on joy. Expressive writing can help parents give voice to their issues, understand them better, and move past them. Take time to step back and see the big picture. And give yourself some time off now and again!

Myth #4: I can’t be happy when I don’t have a partner.” While strong, caring, fulfilling relationships make us happy, they do not have to be sexual or romantic in nature. Focus on becoming your best possible self. Practice optimism. See possibilities in your life and community for social engagement.

Myth #5: I’ll be happy when I find the right job.” Much like the relationship myth, the “perfect job” falls prey to hedonic adaptation. While there’s a brief spurt of happiness upon attainment, the happiness scale resets to baseline in short order. Then, we think we won’t be happy until we get the next one! The antidote lies in aiming for high performance but loosening the grip on expectations and entitlement. Throw off pernicious comparisons with others; appreciate what you have right now. Pursue goals for which you enjoy the process of attaining them, not just the fruits of your labors. Shift the reference point from the “dream job” to one that is gratitude-inducing.

Myth #6: I can’t be happy when I’m broke. While income and happiness are correlated, the relationship isn’t strong once basic needs are met. Apply the ancient practice of thrift; live with less. The strain of debt far outweighs the thrill of purchase. Spend money on experiences versus possessions. Experiences are social, less prone to social comparison, and less likely to engender buyer’s remorse. Many small pleasures reap more benefits than a few large ones.

Myth #7: I’ll be happy when I’m rich. While money boosts overall life satisfaction, it doesn’t have a major impact on day-to-day happiness. Increased income tends to be accompanied by increased spending with the attendant comparisons with peers. Runaway materialism depletes happiness. Spend on need-satisfying things. Spend on others. Spend money to give you time to spend with loved ones.

Myth #8: I can’t be happy when the test results are negative. We may fear a dire diagnosis, yet we still hold the power to determine our life experience. As William James said: “My experience is what I agree to attend to. Only those items which I notice shape my mind.” Spend time in and around nature; it’s restorative. Use meditation to disengage from unhealthy thoughts. Learn what makes you happy and do it more. The happier we are, the better we’re able to address the inevitable challenges in this world.

Myth #9: I can’t be happy when I know I’ll never play shortstop for the Yankees. Life holds setbacks, disappointments, regrets for us all. Acknowledge them, but don’t be consumed by them. Reflect on where you are and how you got here. Avoid rumination. Be deliberate, analytical, philosophical, curious, self-aware, insightful. Think of life’s moments as a coherent journey, each propelling us forward. Leverage humor, compassion, gratitude. Then set new goals and embark on a new journey.

Myth #10: I can’t be happy when the best years of my life are over. Surprise, surprise. Seniors count themselves among the happiest people alive! They’re better at emotional regulation, and their shorter time horizons render them more present-oriented. Enhance happiness in this phase of life by thinking of the past as an endowment of wonderful memories, skills, experiences, insights. As Queen Elizabeth II said: “Good memories are our second chance at happiness.” Be open to new adventures and new life goals.

The big message: Don’t wait for happiness! Jettison these false beliefs and get on with finding happiness in the here and now.

Mid-Life Musing

could i be a puppy again?
tail wagging
paws in motion
ears flopping
fur flying
breathless

could i be a puppy again?
unspoiled
curious
playful
intrepid
shameless

could i be a puppy again?
companion
healer
entertainer
explorer
ambassador

could i be a puppy again?

woof!

Happiness in the Midst of Life

A few weeks ago, a piece of click bait showed up on my Facebook feed that directed me to a clip from America’s Got Talent. I took the bait and watched a lithe 30-year-old woman with a pixie haircut take the stage. When greeted and asked how she was doing, she said: “I’m awesome. I’m so happy to be here.” She planned to offer an original song entitled It’s OK which captured the last year of her life. Come to find out that she has been dealing with cancer for several years, and the disease has metastasized to her lungs, spine, and liver. But there she was, radiant, seemingly full of life.

Her song and performance were riveting – I’ve watched it at least a dozen times – and garnered rave reviews from the four judges. Even the ofttimes acerbic Simon Cowell was rendered temporarily speechless by her artistry and strength of character. In response, she said:

“You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.”

That’s my touchstone for today’s post. Because at this moment, there are a lot of dark clouds in my weather system. Dear friends are dealing with suffering and loss. The organizations with which I am involved have challenges and uncertain futures. The geopolitical landscape is awash in conflict with deep fissures in my country. Millions across the globe cry out to have their basic needs met. Mother Earth is in distress. And yet:

“You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.”

While you may not – at this moment – be in a place to heed this advice, there are really good reasons to give it a go.

Happiness guru Dr. Sonja Lyubomirsky of the University of California at Riverside tells us: “When we experience joy… we feel ready to take on the world, are more mindful, creative, and open to new experiences, feel more trust and oneness with intimate others, believe that life is more meaningful, and have the sense of being captains of our own ships.” Moreover, positive emotions give rise to positive thoughts. So, whether you want to tackle the world’s problems, your family’s or community’s problems, or your own challenges, being happy gives you the best chance of doing it well. Besides, it just feels good.

When I’m happy, I experience a lightness of being. Face open, perhaps with a smile. Brows relaxed. Chest, shoulders, and belly at ease. Restful breathing. Feeling connected to those around me. Feeling safe in this world. Being right here, right now. Free from thoughts that have me rehashing past woes or worrying about the future. Fully alive. So, I’m decidedly interested in figuring out how to have more of it in my life.

Extensive research gives us quite a lot of great advice about how to increase happiness. Yale professor Dr. Laurie Santos created an entire class on the subject. It’s wild popularity gave rise to a free on-line version of the course and a podcast entitled The Happiness Lab. But here are just a few simple things that we can do every day.

Express gratitude. Be mindful of everyday blessings – a practice that overcomes our natural tendency to notice what is wrong or simply take all the good for granted. It can be as simple as the regular expression of the words “Thank you” or a more formal exercise of capturing them in a journal.

Cultivate optimism. Look on the bright side daily activities and circumstances. For example, instead of: “Ugh, laundry again!,” think “Yay, I have lots of clothes and a washer and dryer.” In the midst of adversity, treat circumstances as temporary rather than intrinsic and hold confidently to a belief that you’ll get through it.

Savor life’s pleasures. Slow down and enjoy a soothing shower, a nice meal, a walk in the neighborhood, a trip to the grocery store with all that magnificent food, a quiet night with a good book. Savoring intensifies the positive feelings around something you love… and keeps them around longer.

Practice acts of kindness. Be on the lookout for what others need. As we bolster our capacity for compassion and act on it, we perceive others more positively, become more conscious of our interdependence, and act accordingly.

Cultivate community. In the company of close friends, family, and associates, we savor everyday moments, we experience the “flow” of seamless collaborations, we find purpose for our existence, and we share our triumphs and defeats.

Stop and Smell the Roses

I’ve been thinking about gratitude having shared some reflections on the subject last week. And, I particular, I’ve thought about the need to “pause, breath, appreciate” as the antidote to my usual hurry-up-and-get-it-done approach to life. My Scottish terrier decided to give me an object lesson on the subject.

Since moving into the townhouse, my husband and I need to trade off taking the dog for walks every time our pooch needs to respond to the call of nature. I view the task as a utilitarian effort to get the job done as expeditiously as possible, particularly when the weather is less than hospitable. My dog views it as an opportunity to take in every smell that may have settled on a blade of grass, a leaf, a tree trunk, or even the sidewalk since his last go round. Our difference of opinion has not resulted in favorable results.

For several nights running on the last walk of the night, Brodie and I have been in a tug-of-war. I tried to move things along with (significant) pressure on his harness. He resisted. Even if I just gently attempted to move forward, he pulled in the opposite direction. I know that Scotties are stubborn, but even this behavior seemed atypical for the breed.

I decided to give dear old Google a try and see what some experts had to say about it. Reading through several posts, I was reminded of my dog’s need for stimulation and his pleasure at noticing every little scent to which his nose might be attuned. Other than eating, it’s his happy place. I learned that resistance was an instinctual response to my tugging and that, perhaps, giving him some slack (and judicious use of treats) might get better results. And, as I thought about it, I realized: What in the world was I doing trying to rush things anyway? Couldn’t I stop and smell the roses while he was doing it, too?

The last few nights, I’ve done just that. I’ve let him control the pace while I paused, breathed, and gave thanks. For the lovely neighborhood. For the freshly cut grass. For the Spring flowers. For the stillness in the air (and relief from the heat of the day). For the adorable little dog who has given us so much love and joy over the years. For the gift of life.

The tug of war has more-or-less ceased. We still have a few moments where I need to remind him that I’m the “alpha dog” in this relationship. But having cut him some slack for most of the walk, he falls in line pretty easily.

Thanks for the lesson, Brodie.

Gratitude

A few worldwide statistics:

Nearly 1 in 10 persons lives below the international poverty level of $2.15 per day (per the World Bank)
Only 1 in 4 people have access to safely managed water (according to WHO)
Only 1 in 6 people own a car (per PD Insurance)

When exposed to this data in combination with sufficient media exposure to see how people live the world over, it’s not much of a stretch to acknowledge all the blessings in my life. Born white into one of the wealthiest countries on the planet. Raised by conscientious and loving parents. Access to stellar educational and employment opportunities. Loving friends and family. A comfortable roof over my head in a safe neighborhood with the means to keep it there. Nourishing food.

Gratitude ought to be a no-brainer, and yet it often feels like something that should be felt rather than naturally arises. That sensibility gained traction growing up as the gratitude factor was often invoked somewhat punitively. If we complained about a meal, we were reminded that there were starving children in Africa. My parents often recited the phrase: “I cried because I had no shoes until I saw the man who had no feet.” Very true. And quite guilt inducing. In fact, I still beat myself with the gratitude stick every time I complain.

Good old evolutionary science cuts me some slack here. Our survivalist brains aren’t wired for gratitude. They don’t take inventory of what’s going well. In fact, they get used to all the good stuff and barely take notice of it at all. If anything, they ratchet up expectations for more goodies in the future. But they are always on the look-out for what might go wrong: imminent danger, potential threats, scarcity. And they get drawn into social comparisons, determining their social and personal worth based on how they stack up against others in their peer groups. It isn’t me vis a vis the world’s population, but me vis a vis my community, my Facebook friends, my alumni groups, and so on.

That point was driven home to me years ago when colleagues of mine were doing a study in behalf of a major financial institution on the market needs for “private clients” – that is, individuals with very high net worth. They snagged an interview with an heiress of a major industrial enterprise. Upon explaining the nature of the work and the clientele they were interviewing, she said she didn’t think she fit the mold. After all, she wasn’t worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

Such behaviors are normal and natural, even if we wish they weren’t. Much like lovingkindness, forgiveness, and equanimity, it takes intentionality and practice to become beacons of light.

So, how do we turn the heart and mind toward gratitude?

First Off: Pause. Breathe. Appreciate.

If we want to disrupt those well-established neurological patterns that take the good for granted and trend toward negativity, it’s wise to take them off autopilot and redirect their attention. To slow down and start noticing all the blessings that arise in our lives and in the world. Want a guide to help you? Read Mary Oliver’s poetry.

Second: Good old… count your blessings.

Buddhist monks begin each day with a chant of gratitude for the blessings of their life. Native American elders begin each ceremony with grateful prayers to mother earth and father sky, to the four directions, to the animal, plant, and mineral brothers and sisters who share our earth and support our life. In Tibet, the monks and nuns even offer prayers of gratitude for the suffering they have been given: “Grant that I might have enough suffering to awaken in me the deepest possible compassion and wisdom.”

As Jack Kornfield says: “Gratitude is a gracious acknowledgment of all that sustains us, a bow to our blessings, great and small, an appreciation of the moments of good fortune that sustain our life every day.”

Third: Find silver linings.

Hate doing dishes? Be grateful for the food that messed them up. Hate paying taxes? Be grateful for the income that sustains you and makes it possible to remit funds to the government. Hate those lines that are creeping across your face? Be grateful for all the smiles over the years that have put them there. You get the drift…

Fourth: Establish a practice that works for you.

You can do a weekly gratitude walk, where you just go around wherever you live and find things for which you are grateful: the trees on the street, the neighbors who smile and say “hello,” the dogs that wag their tails when they see you, the flowers showing off their radiant colors, the warmth of the sun.

You can keep a gratitude journal or have a little gratitude jar into which you and your guests capture blessings as they arise.

Say thank you… even for all the ordinary things in life. Thank you for doing the laundry. Thank you for doing the dishes and putting them away. Thank you for walking the dog.

Just sit and reflect: What am I grateful for? What else could I be grateful for? What opportunity is life presenting right now for which I can be grateful?

Take in a guided gratitude meditation.

Equanimity

Like it or not, life presents challenges and setbacks. Thoughtful folks may make plans and take precautions to minimize their occurrence, but there remains much outside our control. A traffic jam precipitated by a roadway accident. A major financial reversal, or simply unanticipated expenses. The unnerving medical diagnosis. The unusually long line at the grocery check-out when you’re already late. Stalled deliverables on an important project. Depending on our response, some challenges can prove beneficial. They may help us grow and/or heighten appreciation for things that we previously took for granted. Some… not so much.

The ancient stoics – Zeno of Citium, Epictetus, Seneca – experimented with “framing” when facing setbacks. They’d consider all of the things that were going well in their lives and treat the setback as a minor inconvenience. They’d imagine how much worse things could be and took comfort that their circumstances weren’t all that bad. They’d frame news with a positive spin – e.g., a 60% survival rate for a disease versus 40% mortality. They’d consider how they’d feel in an hour, a day, a week, or a month and ask themselves: Will this setback really matter to me then?

St. Paul, the great Christian evangelist who organized communities of faith throughout the Near East, took solace in his unshakable faith in God. Though he is revered today, his life was far from easy. He spent a healthy amount of time in prison. And he tells us in a letter to the Corinthians, “Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea.” And, to top it off, he regularly dealt with squabbles in the churches that he’d founded.

Yet throughout the full arc of his life experiences, Paul seems neither puffed up by his successes nor undone by his trials and tribulations. Life can beat him about, and he just keeps on keeping on. As he writes to his compatriots in Phillippa:

“I rejoice in the Lord greatly that now at last you have revived your concern for me; indeed, you were concerned for me but had no opportunity to show it. Not that I am referring to being in need; for I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances, I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and having need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” [Philippians 4:10-13]

He speaks to the essence of equanimity – to be in the midst of life’s vicissitudes without whitewashing or sugarcoating them, and without being undone by them. To live in that peaceful place of knowing that it can all be taken in and experienced without fear or defeatism. To stand sure-footed in this world.

I cannot help but think of my husband who is a grand master in equanimity. He brings the capacity for great caring to his community, his work, and his relationships yet remains steady amidst the ups and downs of life. I’ve seen it in matters great and small. A story from our distant past…

We purchased a largish hunk of property in California a few years into our marriage. To control weeds, we opted to blanket the yard with fir bark. And being youthful and frugal, we spread the stuff ourselves. A dump truck arrived and unloaded a HUGE pile of the stuff which created a sizable mountain in our driveway, blocking egress by both our cars. Needless to say, we were highly motivated to get it spread – a task that required filling wheel barrels and carting them down a steep hill to our back yard, dumping the contents, and then spreading the stuff around.

After a few hours of effort, I could find no material evidence that we’d made any dent in the ginormous pile of fir bark. So, in addition to the physical fatigue, my mind starting spinning on: “Oh my gosh. Why did we decide to do this job? We will NEVER get it all spread! We can’t get the cars out to go get food. And I’m so tired. I just can’t do this anymore. What are we going to do?”

Amidst all my suffering, I notice that Spike just keeps spreading fir bark and saying nothing. Pretty soon, his calm demeanor starts to bug me. So, I say: “The pile isn’t getting any smaller. We’ll never finish. Aren’t you upset?” And he replies: “Not really. I just know that I’m going to be spreading fir bark until 5pm, and then I’ll go inside and have a beer.”

Jack Kornfield offers the following:

“Peace comes when our hearts are open as the sky, vast as the ocean. From this place, we choose to care for this moment, this cup of tea, this bowl of food in front of me, this child, this man, this woman, this earth, [this pile of fir bark,] the content of experience with a peaceful heart, knowing that it is all impermanent, not with sorrow, but saying how precious it is that we only get this day once. We only have this moment once.”

Healthy Lifestyle

Ideas to Nourish the Body, Mind, and Spirit