Elizabeth Edwards. Resilience.

     I just learned that Elizabeth Edwards died today.
     I commend to you Elizabeth Edwards' autobiography, Resilience:  Reflections on the Burdens and Gifts of Facing Life's Adversities.  I read it earlier this year. 
     Reflections.
     Elizabeth conveyed a truth FAR too often missed.  Response to our lives' experiences, whatever they may be, is not a simple matter.  Reading her life's story conveyed to me the importance of living the nuances of my experiences.  To live the nuances--the complicated realities of my life--with one unified response, with one broad stroke of a brush, is to miss Elizabeth's conveyed truth.
     Burdens.  Gifts.
     She addressed the complexities of her husband's affair in a way worthy of our notice.  Elizabeth made a distinction between her relationship with her husband, and her partnership with John as a parent to their four children--three of whom are still living.  When questioned by confounded reporters, as to why she continued to have amicable contact with John, she said something to the effect that John is a good father.  She said she did not want to get in the way of those strong relationships continuing.
    Life's Adversities.
    She lived realistic optimism.  She did not deny what she was facing.  Yet, she took actions necessary to co-create a positive life for herself--for her family.   She used her life experiences to support research and exploration.   My rereading is needed to listen as to what actions I may take in my own life.  How do I--how do we--live our lives.
     I pray that I do not elevate Elizabeth to the precarious perch of a hero.  She deserves a more personal response than heroism conveys.  I do not want to romanticize how she handled her life experiences.  That would be to drown out the truths she offers with noisy. self-serving declarations.
    My prayer is that I and others may be motivated to read her autobiography, and learn what she can teach us regarding resilience, reflection, burdens, gifts, and adversities.
     Resilience:  Reflections on the Burdens, and Gifts, of Facing Life's Adversities   
                                                                      Elizabeth Edwards, 1949-2010

Dignitaries of Compassion

     This week two experiences regarding help, listening, and hearing were given to me.  The first came with a doctor, who is new to me.  I was desperate for help.  I did not want to feel as needy as I felt.  Yet, I came to the doctor with undeniable needs.  The second experience continues yet today.  When I receive help, how do I respond?
     I am not alone in having needs--undeniable needs.  I am not alone in needing help.  If all of us have been given undeniable needs, does that mean that help is undeniable?
     Help.
     Can I ask for help?  Do I exert the strength I have been given to be needy to the degree I require?  Can I dignify compassion, while I deflect pity for my needs?
     Dignitaries of Compassion.  Deflectors of Pity.  
     Can we serve as dignitaries of compassion in our lives each day, as we meet individuals in need?  Can we be deflectors of pity, who serve as dignitaries of compassion?
     Cultivators Who Redefine "Needy."  
     Can we be cultivators willing to redefine needy?  Can we be cultivators willing to redefine undeniable help?
     Undeniable Needs.  Undeniable Help.  
     Do we hear undeniable needs?  Do we listen to provide undeniable help?
     Worthy Recipients?
     Do we view ourselves as the only worthy recipients of undeniable help?
     Do we view others as the only worthy recipients of undeniable help?
     Recipients.  Seekers.  Recipients.
     I am not alone.  We are receiving help.  Yet, how are we accepting it?  What are our undeniable needs?
    What undeniable help do we seek?  What undeniable help will we receive?

Don't Take Things Personally???

The Benefits of Not Taking Things Personally

     The biggest benefits of not taking things personally are self-awareness and clarity. Being centered and grounded while knowing that only you can dictate whether or not you’re on track or whether or not you’re successful is a reward in and of itself. Anyone who has experienced this state of being knows how good it feels. Once you get a taste of it, you’ll strive to be in that state more often. Even when you get thrown off, you’ll relish the knowledge that you get to choose whether or not to remain stuck. As Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.”

    Christine Kane, "How to NOT Take Things Personally:  A Practical Guide"          http://christinekane.com/blog/how-to-not-take-things-personally-a-practical-guide/#comment-388978

     Don't take things personally??? Hmmmm.... I am not sure that I agree....although I laughed aloud, when I read, "shut up and listen" [A friend gave me that advice, which I have heeded.] OK, not engaging in self-torture, and not becoming bitter about little things in daily life, OK, I can endorse--embrace--that wholeheartedly.... But...Without taking things personally, there is no hope for insight, growth, or sensitivity.... Without taking things personally, there is no hope of flourishing from "negative" experiences, or influences. Now, taking things personally may not be comforting, at first. But....It seems to me that the very core of living--breathing--demands "taking things personally," inhaling the world around us....inhaling all of the lessons available to us to live more fully...more authentically. Many times I have learned from--been given insight regarding--experiences and comments that others lovingly advised me not to take personally. By negative experiences and comments, I am referring to those in my life that have been related to disabilities over which I have no control to change. Ignorance of others is not an excuse to make. To do so is to miss the opportunity to nurture positive attitudes and deeper understanding between each of us as human beings. I will reread this, and try to apply it. In my humble opinion, we need to engage in more "taking things personally," not less.

The Gift That Keeps on Taking

     Throughout my life, I have known that my life experiences were gifts, which I must accept, and from which I must learn.  I am called to learn.  I must answer that call.  Each of us must answer our call. 

     I do not believe in mistakes.  Yes, I make mistakes.  But, I do not believe in mistakes.

     My birth was planned.  I was wanted.  I am wanted.  I was loved.  I am loved.

     I do not believe in doom--in being doomed to a negative existence.  I have doubts.  I will have doubts.  I am tested.  I will be tested.  But, I am not doomed.  I cannot be.  None of us is.  None of us can be so doomed.

     I do not believe in evil.  Nothing in the air I breathe is evil.

     All of the air that I breathe is filled with lessons.  I must be a student of those lessons.

     I am driven.  I am driven to appreciate, as Michael J. Fox says of his Parkinson's Disease, "the gift that keeps on taking."  I am called to appreciate my gifts.  Each of us is.  All of us are so called.

     My gifts?  Cerebral palsy and epilepsy.  The insights that flow from them.

     In "A Conversation with Michael J. Fox," CNN's Sanjay Gupta asked, "Do you ever ask yourself, 'Why me?"  

     Michael J. Fox responded, "Why not me?" ... "It is what it is."

     Fox voices the movement we must make from self-pity to determination.  He speaks with or of no arrogance.  If we are to receive the gifts we are given--our life experiences--then, we may not truncate them.  Painful though the process may be, to truncate our life experiences is to trip, and to fall flat on our faces.

    My life experiences are gifts.  I will my acceptance.  I will learn.  I will accept my call.  I am willing.  I call you.  Join me.

Intuition. Action. Transformation.

     Often, we speak of following our intuition.  Sometimes, it relates to people. Sometimes, it relates to a situation in which we find ourselves.  Most often, our spoken words are voiced in hindsight, "I should have followed my intuition."  Such hindsight speaks of an omen that we believe we should have anticipated, and on which we should have acted.
     Hindsight is useless self-torture.  Hindsight may not be the starting point from which we derive our actions for the future.  We are not disciplined to learn the lessons that might otherwise flow from it, if given the opportunity.
     Intuition.
     Intuition must be our starting point.  Disciplined, keen intuition.  We must discipline ourselves to listen to what we intuit--to what we "perceive without reasoning."  To intuit is not to disregard--not to forego--reasoning.  To intuit is the starting point to listen to other people without judgment.  Intuition is the child of to intuit. Only after we have intuited, may we receive an intuition--a keen and quick insight, as it is defined.
    Trust.
     In order to act upon intuitions we are given, we must trust. First, we must trust ourselves.  Trust is the preparation we are given to attune ourselves--our ears and our actions--to any force outside ourselves.  Trust requires discipline.  We must trust ourselves before we place our trust in anyone else.  We may not--we will not--act with trustworthiness always.  However, we must believe that we are trustworthy.  We must believe that we have been given the requisite capacity to act as trustworthy individuals, if we may having any hope of doing so.
     But, we must exceed ourselves in our will to trust.  How do we achieve that aspiration?
     Listen.
     Whom should I listen to?  What do I hear?  Whom do I hear?  Do I hear my voice?
     Cynicism breeds inaction.  Inaction breeds cowardice.
     Reason.
     Action without reason lacks integrity.  Action without intuition lacks the requisite passion to withstand cynical cowardice.
    Only after intuiting, receiving an intuition, trusting, and listening should we even consider acting. 
    Daily living, world events, and current affairs lead me to these convictions.  Now to transform convictions into actions.  That is uncharted territory in my book.  I pray for such trans-formations--for me, for each of us..

The Velcro Principle

     Before today I have not had the courage to express a long-held curiosity.  Are brain damage, short-term memory loss, intuition, and trust connected?  May intuition and trust be nurtured as agents to mitigate short-term memory loss caused by brain damage?
     I preface my reflections with a caveat.  First, at birth--my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck five times.  Oxygen was deprived from the left side of my brain, which controls the right side of my body--my right hand, arm, and leg.  That brain damage manifests itself in cerebral palsy, and epilepsy.
     I have known no other way of living.  I pray my questions are not excuses for my actions.
     With that said, I have a responsibility to express questions that may not arise as the result of clinical research, the practice of  medicine, or of auxiliary sciences.  I respect the contributions of all three.  Yet, these are not--may not be--the sole arbiters to living more fully.
     Short-term memory.  The Velcro Principle applies.  If there is any hope of saving what soon will be lost, I must stick to the Velcro Principle.
     The Velcro Principle?  The process of writing down the information is vital.  Participating in the adherence of information to my brain is essential.  Reading the information in writing is the next best solution.
     These two solutions are not mine alone, not by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, they are my starting points.
    Intuition.  Trust.
    Intuition?  That unspoken warning that screams out to my ears alone, "This information will be lost to you soon.  Act.  Act now.  Capture this information--act--before it floats beyond your memory's grasp."
    Trust?  "Should I act?  I should be able to remember this information longer.  Others do."
    Trust?  "I know that this information will float away as clearly as a kite in the springtime sky."
    The kiss of death?  "Don't worry about writing this down.  I will give this to you in writing," others tell me.
    The kiss of death.  I hear my voice, "If I do not write now, this information will be lost to me.  I must attach it to my brain with a secure piece of Velcro.  I must adhere to the Velcro Principle."
    "OK," I say obediently to the others.  My voice whispers, "It is OK to stop listening.  But, you know, you are doomed to forgetting, if you stop listening.  Yet, I must obey the others."
     By misplacing my trust from me to others, am I damaging the treasure of intuition that has been given to me?  If I displace my trust of others and replace it into my own hands, could I retrieve the short-term memory lost to me?  Am I disabling myself  by not making use of what has been given to me?  How do I reclaim my gifts without being defensive--without repelling other individuals, who have been given to me in my life?  How do I explain the Velcro Principle?  How do I adhere to the Velcro Principle?

Setting the Wheels in Motion

     For the past year, the prospect of living with a scooter has loomed over me--over my future.  With Advent, I will prepare to move into a Red Scooter--a new vehicle for me.  The reason?  My get up and go got up and went.  It did not run away.  An aging body.  Weakening legs.  It limped out of my life beyond my grasp to retrieve.
     I am called to accelerate my pace toward a red scooter, so that I may move back into circulation.
     I know that fact. I knew that fact all too well.    
     Yet, that knowing did not translate to a fast, heartfelt acceptance.  I knew I needed to grieve the loss of walking--of moving quickly.  I knew I needed to grieve physically, psychologically, and emotionally.
     Grief.  Fear.  Facts.  Fear.  Acceptance.
     I am not Grief's sole companion.  Each of us is Grief's intimate. Not in the same way. Not at all times.  Neither is ours to dictate.
     Fear demands my full surrender, patience, perseverance.  Only then may I embrace Acceptance fully.
     Grief.  Fear. Facts. Fear.  Acceptance.  None  may not be rushed--abbreviated--if full healing is to be possible.
     Full Healing is no cure.  Full Healing will not return me to my former body.  Full Healing must be the beginning of a new way of living--a New Form.
     My New Form?  Yet today, I may walk some.  Stamina is no longer mine--not for now.  Advent brings to me preparation for a different movement.  More learning.  A Red Scooter.  My pace will be different from others so embodied.  My mind is ready to go forth with this New Form--with this Red Scooter.
     My journey has not been taken at a timed pace toward a known destination.  The time of arrival has been vague, at best, certainly not by any schedule known to me. My journey's pace has not been timed by My Will's control, strong though she may be.  Strength masquerades no control for me to exercise.
    Expectations--mine, others--were not for me to control.  Waiting with faith--praying--that the necessary fortitude would be given to me--that was mine to will.  
    Fear.  The scooter will fall on top of me.  Fact.  With time, the words to describe my fear have dissolved.  Fear.  I am becoming Pathetic with a capital P.  Pathetic Patty.
    I may not succumb to that Fear.  To do so would be to compromise the person I have been for 50 years--the person I pray I may be in the years I am given to live.
    I move forward now.  I ask that I may relinquish any expectation of when I should have accepted the inevitable movement into a scooter.  I ask that I release any temptation to judge how this next chapter is to live compared to what my fears have been.  
     Acceptance is no more a given than is walking.  Both are gifts.  Both are to be treasured.  Neither is to be demanded or second guessed.  
   I am not alone in my calling.  We are called--each of us is called--to move from Grief, Fear, Facts, and Fear to Acceptance.  Our time--the cause--will not be in sync--identical.  Yet, each of us must embrace our calling together with a Capital C--with a holy, Capital E.