HEALTHY ATTITUDES ( "HELP, I'M OFF-KILTER")

 

A serious topic:  Do you ever wake with existential dread?  Existential dread may be too strong a phrase.  But depression, anxiety, regret, lack of motivation . . . each can be a sign of existential dread.  We may question things we have been doing in a rote way. We may question purpose and meaning.  Or we may simply feel anxious, off-kilter, needing to get up! and start our day.  Losses, age, health concerns, death, almost any important life change can be a trigger. This seems to be a part of life. 

For me, sometimes after a lovely day or night a painful thought will re-emerge, triggered I suppose by the knowledge that security and happiness are not givens. They can, and have, been attacked in unexpected ways. My father always said that the things that set you back are never what you were worried about.  That's pretty much true for me.

What can we do about this? Losses, age, health concerns and death aren't about to reverse.  Only our attitudes, our feelings are open to change.  Example:  We are getting older each year.  Can we feel good about that?  Amazingly, most days I can. I love the knowledge that age brings. I've experienced growth after trauma.  I love my life.  

We watched the Academy Award winning movie "The Father" last night with Anthony Hopkins playing the role of a brutally deteriorating Alzheimer's patient. This is not in my family history.  At 82 my mother made thoughtful end-of-life decisions.  My father lived without cognitive deficits until he died at age 94.  But we have a dear friend who is at the beginning of this decline; and an in-law's father has "good" days when he remembers which of his children is visiting. So this is not merely academic, for any of us. There's a new drug for Alzheimer's, but no one can actually say that it's promising. 

Plainly, any of us can veer into negative thinking.  After all, we're still in a pandemic. Plus, research shows that we overlearn from negative experiences but underlearn from positive ones. (Well, that's unfair!)  And that women are more likely to ruminate than men. (Maybe because women are victims of more traumatic experiences and fears than men? I don't see this considered.)  

So when I come across what we might call positive-thoughts-about-negative-things, I'm intrigued.  More than that:  I pounce on them. Anecdotes, medical articles, clinical studies, Bible passages, self-help classes . . . .  Surely that's one reason I get Mindful.org in my inbox each day, along with Greater Good Science Center (greater@berkeley.edu) and the Smiling Mind Meditation App.  It's why I took part in an expressive writing clinical trial for crisis management. And keep a Prayer Journal.

Experts agree that happiness often comes from within.  And that there are ways to encourage it. One is knowing that when someone does something bad to you, it's not about who you are, but who they are.  If you're bullied, or belittled, or assaulted, it's because of who the bully is, or the criminal, not you.  If the experience is closer to home and you're betrayed or humiliated by someone you know, it's about their need or weakness, not about you. 

Another way is to let negative thoughts run their course.  Like all thoughts, they come and go.  Acknowledging our pain is not an indulgence.  It's a stepping back so that the pain is not our whole self.  Thankfully, this helps even when the loss is what we call unbearable.  We find that we have borne it. As I'm believing that a hurt is too heavy, I become used to the weight. 

A third way to encourage happiness, or at least relief, is to reframe our stories. If I have to act to correct a situation that should not have happened, I can concentrate on my bravery in so doing. That's why we talk about survivors of sexual assault rather than victims. If we think we won't recover from a loss--of a person, a marriage, trust, self-esteem--we can reframe with something more accurate:  this is going to be very, very difficult.  It may take some time.  I may need help.

This is a big topic.  But I find just thinking about this challenging and interesting.  And writing about it, like expressive writing is said to do, improves my attitude.  I hope reading does the same for you, provokes thoughts about your life, how you want to cope, where you've been and how far you've come.  Introspection can be part of loving ourselves which helps us love others.  I almost feel like this is a sort of prayer.  Or at least thoughts guided by an unspoken prayer.  So I'll say it:  Amen 

  

 

 

  

SUMMER SOLSTICE → LOVING IT ALL!

June 21, 2016, 11:41 PM, Crowden Park, Fairbanks, Alaska

The longest day is tomorrow.  Five years ago to the day we were in Fairbanks, Alaska for the longest day.  Our most memorable summer solstice ever. Well, to be honest, many years the day passes without our notice.  I wish now that when we lived in England we had paid more attention; the summer evenings are so leisurely that far north. You can enjoy the theatre and if you live in central London, walk home in daylight.  One year we were in Norway, days even longer, taking pictures on a midnight hike of sheep grazing, then falling into a brief sleep as day turned to dusk then to day again.  No night at all.

In Fairbanks we went to the traditional minor league baseball game that begins at 10 pm, no lights needed.  When it ended we realized we had no way back to our cabin; the shuttle stops on its own schedule. Two women offered us a ride in their hatchback; grateful, we accepted.  One problem: we had to ride in the dog kennel, which took up the only available space.  Bent over we crawled in and smelled like dog by the end of the ride. Somehow this is a wonderful memory.

Atlantic Beach, North Carolina

This year we are at the beach doing pretty much nothing.  Not enough to create a lasting memory but nowhere else I'd rather be.  Biking, blogging, shelling, collage-making, cooking, walking Mr. Wiggles . . . all with a view. It's a vacation. 

I've also been thinking about ways to enjoy the rest of the summer, when the heat gets over-whelming, as it does in North Carolina: sand hot enough to blister, asphalt on fire, humidity soaking even the flimsiest tops, instant melt.  A sort of Heat Hacks of the day list, more tried-and-true than new: 

Come in from the heat; enjoy the air-conditioning.  Or if you've been avoiding all fresh air, do something outside and then come in and enjoy the air-conditioning.  The contrast feels great.

Sit, lie, twirl under a fan; children love fans.  Did you ever sit in front of a fan as a kid?  I did.  With my body itching from poison ivy, my mother would douse me in Calamine and plop me just inches from our floor fan.

If you can, watch a movie only you want to see.  On a weekend this is luxurious; on a weekday pure decadence.

Play a board game, or cards, with the children.  The only exertion is laughter.

Spread lotion on your parched skin; do the same for a child.

Pour something alcohol-free over ice, add lemon, and drink it down; make a glass for someone else.

Pile your hair up.

Keep your shoes off, wear a cami and something loose, anything .

Put out some nectar. Admire a hummingbird.  Be glad we don't have to move that fast.

Give the plants a drink.  If you're watering outdoors, soak your feet too.  Or legs, or whole self. 

Stretch every which way, high, to the right, to the left, arms, neck, torso, hamstrings . . . .

Cool off the dog with a nice bath, even if he's not in the mood.  Talk to him lovingly.  These aren't called dog days for nothing. 

Read, of course read, and write.

And the most obvious: wild swim, pool swim, hose-down, any wet choice at all.  And if skinny-dipping is an option . . . well there you go.

On the longest day, especially if you too have some time off, who knows how many or few ways you might decide to spend your daylight.         

 

 

 

  

THE VACCINE HONEYMOON, PART II

Jockey's Ridge, North Carolina

I've been trying to appreciate what's close to home as part of my post-vaccine honeymoon period. The US is not post-pandemic, with stronger variants seeking out the unvaccinated.  But I feel post-pandemic, having navigated my life without fear since my second shot on February 4. I hope you feel the same.  

 

Still, I don't want to fly anywhere. And I don't want a chocked-full schedule. Some changes are worth keeping.  So, we settled on visiting the dunes at Jockey's Ridge State Park just 3 1/2 hours from home.  Oh my; we felt like we were on the moon. No picture does it justice.  

 

It made me think.  Each of us lives where there is something nearby that we may have ignored, but which is magnificent.  When we lived in London years ago my husband mentioned to his barber, who liked to chat, that we went to Stratford-on-Avon.  Pregnant and tired, I nevertheless had made great efforts to see where Shakespeare lived and was buried.  "Is it nice?" the barber said. 

 
Maybe I've been like that. Neglecting what's close to home.  Have you?

 

Walking the dunes, Jockey's Ridge, NC

Jockey's Ridge is the tallest living sand dune on the Atlantic coast. Sand temperatures are 30⁰ hotter than air temperatures.  The view arcs from the Roanoke Sound through maritime shrub thickets to the Atlantic ocean.  I felt like we were in parts of Zion National Park in Idaho, it was that otherworldly.   I read that at times the dune can be as high as 60 feet.  Maybe it was the day we were there.  The winds come from the southwest in the summer and the northeast in the winter, so the dunes are never blown completely away.  They just keep shifting.

 

It's quite desert-like, but still there are brackish marshes along Roanoke Sound.  Also rabbits, foxes, lizards and migrating birds.  We didn't see the foxes.  I can't believe how long it took us to make this short trip. It's been kind of a running joke; if my husband is out of gift ideas he gives me a card with the promise of a trip to Manteo, the nearest island town to Jockey's Ridge.  I have a stack of these.  Finally, post-vaccine, I called his bluff. This week we're also at the beach, Pine Knoll Shores on Bogue Banks, where we come as often as we can.  Also a 3 1/2 hour drive.  Eastern North Carolina is a string of islands just off-shore. More deserted and not nearly as touristy as other places.  No one wants to be told what to do, but . . . if you have a choice, come.

 

I know, if you live in Portugal, or the UK, South Africa, Scandinavia or Vietnam or a host of other countries, a drive this short takes you to places that for much of the world are a dream-come-true.  World Heritage sites even. If that is you, rejoice. But if that is not you perhaps, like me, you're finding that a smaller compass is also to be treasured.  

 

We're taught not to be trite.  Who wants to be "lacking in originality and freshness?"  But I can't think of another way to say it:  My world is a wonderful place.  I bet yours is too. 

                                                           Nina Naomi  

 

One more picture, swirling

 

 

  

 

 

 

"GOD UNBOUNDED NET UNFURLED" BY NINA NAOMI

 

Faith is the water that buoys the soul. 

Rising, rocking

Heart-held, fear-felled. 

 

Faith is the thing with wings 

That lifts me from the mud and sets me loose. 

That lets us fly. 

No more this, no more that,

Just God unbounded net unfurled. 

 

Faith is the memory of all we believe.

All we trust. 

For you, for us.  

Our lovers perhaps, ourselves, our God.  

Faith makes a nest for love. 

 

Faith can be borrowed when all is ruined,

Until your own returns.  

Faith can sleep and then awaken like a moth.   

It will take hold of you, gently, and say in your ear 

"I am here.  I am here."  

 

 

THE SENSUAL LIFE

 

A Favorite Cedar Tree

Not sensual as in sexy but as in Open Your Senses.  Let your senses respond to all that's around you:  tasting, touching, seeing, hearing, smelling and, that greatest of sensual pleasures, your emotional response.  That leaning toward that leads to an indwelling of total presence.  A withness and a thereness.    As you write (or think or remember), be there again. Luxuriate.  Then maybe seek out the experience, repeat the things make your life full.  You might start with the words "I Love . . . " and go from there.  Mine range from the mundane to the life affirming.  

I LOVE . . .

the smell under the cedar trees.  Pruning the dead lower branches is a fragrance-paradise.  Clipping for winter bouquets brings memories indoors weeks before Christmas.  Keep or find a few low branches for perching after a long walk.  Under any tree is a great place to hang out, but here under a cedar the smell is sweetest.  Cedar is calming.

the way the neighborhood geese sound. They squawk their pass-by every morning and evening, keeping the flock organized; no camouflage for them.  Daytimes they waddle from pond to grass and back again, oblivious to the traffic jam of a car or two or the honk of a horn.  Such centered creatures.  We could all learn a lesson there.  

the smell of lotion on my skin.  Almond with lavender, or vanilla. What's your favorite? The soothing feel of hands stroking body.  A way of appreciating all our bodies do for us.  Freshly clean, squeaky wet hair.  Skin nourished, not tight or itchy.  This can be a true sensual experience that lasts all day. 

the way love makes all the difference.  (Now, in your own mind, elaborate. 💗)  Every sense awakened, contributing. The way nothing brings us into the moment like love.  The way love makes us brave, confident, compassionate.  The way God made us fit like puzzle pieces. 

the feeling that comes after a sincere compliment, by stranger or friend, given or received, an allover feeling.  

that if I listen to my intuition I know what's true.  That silencing my intuition when it tries to alert me to danger is a mistake.  Our intuitions are on our side. When I have wondered why I am fearful, why things seem off, my intuition has never been wrong.  I need to let it take the reins.

a hug.  A night of hugging.  Not a perfunctory hug, but bodies aligned.  Close your eyes and indulge the other senses 

when the rain cools the summer heat and brightens the trees.  The vivid green after a shower.  The tree frogs after a thunderstorm passes. When we rejoice in something as simple as rain. 

everything about a snowy day.  Here in the Piedmont we relish snow, the beauty, the softness, the slower pace, its miraculous appearance in the morning as daylight spreads.  

the feeling of disappearing into a natural sleep.  The meandering of thoughts further and further apart, the letting go, the sinking into stillness.  In sleep we heal, we're renewed, we lengthen our lives. Sleep is a gift.

Emily Dickinson's poems.  Now there's a revelry of senses. 

Where do your senses take you?  I bet our soul's innermost desires can be found if we follow our senses.  

 

 

 

THE VACCINE HONEYMOON

Mast Farm Inn

Many of us are in the post-vaccine honeymoon phase.  You know, loving everything about leaving the house safely. Part of that phase for me is planning outings close by. So often we neglect the near for the far.  I'm done with that.  I'm done taking my home, my neighborhood, my state for granted.  That's my promise for a better, simpler life.  

For last weekend I planned an anniversary break in the mountains, just 3 hours from home. I chose the picturesque mountain community of Valle Crucis in the high country of northwestern North Carolina, having no idea just how perfect it would be. We stayed at the Mast Farm Inn, one of several charming B & Bs in the area.  Of course most Southerners are familiar with a Mast General Store or two.  There are ten in all.  They span North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee and Virginia. But the original is in Valle Crucis with an old Esso Gas pump in front.  A sighting is a chance to browse.  

Candy Barrels, Mast General Store

 

As part of our adventure we drove up (and down) 9 miles of scenic hairpin turns to an even steeper gravel road leading to a small parking area and a hike to the Elk River Falls, just outside the town of Banner Elk.  The noise from a 65 foot drop of water is just plain mesmerizing.  You know that.  There were people dangerously eyeing the precipice at the top, swimming in pools at the bottom, fishing in the river beyond, taking photos and sunning on rocks. Dogs abounded.  

There is something so happy about friends and strangers enjoying the day in the freshest of air side-by-side without masks or isolation yet following the CDC guidelines. I lay back  on a boulder--eyes closed, my face to the sun--and listened.  Shouts, laughter, some still moments and, holding it all together, the thunderous falls.  My husband mentioned how trail walkers always greet one another with a comment on something--the day, their dog, the slipperiness of the trail. "Isn't it a great day to be out?" People reach out a hand, at least to someone my age they do.

Everything we do now, to me seems new.  I hope the excitement lasts. I plan to make the most of it.  What's near you to enjoy?  With thanksgiving for the simple things, 

                                           Nina Naomi

  

 

 

 

LIFT YOUR SPIRIT WITH THE SUN

Photo by Ellieelien

Sometimes we awake with unbidden thoughts.  Something that can't be undone, the very definition of the past.  Our waking minds can do that, fasten on a memory we can never account for; the unanswered "Why?"  One of those life-before and life-after events.  They're almost never good.  If big events are good they become part of the welcome continuity of our lives.  If bad, they become intrusive thoughts.  If this never happens to you, rejoice and be glad.

But if it does, here are some better ways to start the day (I speak from experience).  First, remember that thoughts come and go; they never stay.  Lie there and your mind will veer off somewhere else:  the birds outside, the dog who needs attention, a child stirring, that first sip of tea or coffee . . . .  Whether an unwanted thought is circling or not, I often awake with my husband's arm around me.  His comforting arm reminds me of the goodness of our life.  If someone is in bed with you, move closer.  Feel their body warmth.  

But alone is good too.  Burrow into the sheets.  Stretch.  Listen for the sounds of the morning.  Being on our own can be emotionally peaceful.  I have a friend whose single life is way more adventurous than mine.  Hard to admit, but when my children were at a difficult age I used to fantasize about what a life (or day) with no strings must be like.  

If you wake in darkness, guess the time.  Listen for rain.  Check the clock and decide.  Rise or turn over? If it's time to rise, maybe begin the day with a lovely splash of water on your face, and some cream to sooth your skin.  I start the kettle and let out the dog. If I grab my phone I turn to my meditation app, not the news.  Or my prayer journal.  Sit by a window with your drink and watch the daylight spread.  Are you up too early and must plan for a nap or an early night?  

If there's time to write, then nothing better.  I keep little prompts.  One might be, what in the past year have you discovered you can't do without?  I can't do without morning tea, reading in bed at night, a sanctuary bath, working outdoors, bare feet, wild flowers, feeling loved . . . .  It's a way to start the day thinking of the simple things that make us feel blessed.  Or this one, more unexpected:  what are your favorite messes?  Mine are the house after company leaves; a rumpled bed after a good night's sleep; a field too high because the daisies are in bloom; my craft table; the Christmas decorations spread out waiting to adorn the tree.  More blessings disguised as simple things.  

So what do you do to begin your day with kindness to yourself?  To lift your heart and spirit with the sun?   I bet you've thought of ways just right for you. 

By Emma Rose Tait

"NO ONE SHOULD CRY ALONE," THREE POEMS BY NINA NAOMI

A wounded heart can still sing. 

Though she may sing of sadness and pain,

She can also sing of passion and love.

A wounded heart can still sing.

Though she may sing of sorrow and loss,

She can also sing of sweetness and joy.

Love her, console her, offer her your own listening heart.  

No one should cry alone.

 

Later doesn't matter.

Later isn't now.

Night will come as it does.

But now, now is pure, 

Present like a child.   

Never thinking it will be tired. 

 

I saw the clouds gather

Gray on the horizon.

Lines move east to west

Heavy with rain. 

Come in, come in.

Don't wait for the storm.